was it, when the door of my room opened after a quiet
knock, one stormy afternoon, and the dark face of the Canadian
appeared, that I sprang to my feet and demanded, savagely: "Where
is he? What have you done with him?"

"He was taken," he answered, quietly, "and I am here to answer for
him."

There was such a dignity in his bearing, such a sensibility in his
look, that I was melted at once, and my murderous suspicion put to
flight.

"A thousand pardons, monsieur, for my rudeness. I have been anxious
day and night for the boy. Tell me what has happened."

He told the story simply, and I could not doubt that he told it
truly. It was the ordinary incident, common to these wretched
marauding parties, an attempted surprise, a couple of men lost, my
poor boy wounded and captured before the baffled coureurs de bois
could attempt a rescue.

When Sarennes left me with some words of sympathy, I was suffering
only what hundreds of fathers have suffered before me. That it was
common was no alleviation to my pain.

CHAPTER X

"HE WHO SOWS HATRED SHALL GATHER RUE"

Sarennes had taken himself off again to gather fresh laurels in
ambuscade and retreat, the alternatives which compose the whole
science of la petite guerre, and I had but little to remind me of
my loss save the constant ache at my heart when I was alone, a
position I strove by every means possible to avoid.

That Sarennes was desirous of making some reparation for his injury
towards me, was proved by a letter from him dated in March, and
written from his mother's house at Beaulieu:

"Chevalier,--There is an Englishwoman staying here who claims
to be your wife. What do you wish me to do in the matter? I am
ready to oblige you in any way.

"Sarennes."

I have never made any pretension to a fortitude other than that
which any honourable gentleman of my standing might claim. I was
still sore under this last stroke of undeserved misfortune which
had so cruelly deprived me of Kit, and I could not but look on his
mother as at least the indirect cause of my loss. Under these
feelings I delivered the following to the Indian runner:

"Monsieur,--If you have any regard for me, keep the lady claiming
to be my wife at such distance that I may never set eyes on her
again. Should she be in want, I will gladly reimburse you for
any expenditure you may make on her account.

"Le Chev. Maxwell."

We now come to events on which the anti