s with wide-open eyes.

Presently I heard Lucy's soft whisper, "Dear heart, what is the
matter?"

"Lucy, why are you awake?"

"Christopher," she answered. "I know my boy is in sore trouble on
my account, and, alas, he has not my faith to support him."

"Lucy," I whispered, after a pause, "I have been selfish. In my
own trouble I have not remembered yours."

"Why should you, mistress?" she said, simply. "You have been good
to me, beyond what one in my condition has any right to expect. My
trouble can have no claim, when you are burdened, perhaps even
beyond your strength."

It was strange she should remember the difference between us at
such a time. To me, we were simply two women suffering a common
sorrow in our severance from those most dear to us, and I longed
to take her in my arms and tell her all my pain. Had she been a
mere servant, I might have done so, if only for the comfort of
crying together; but she was too near my own class, and yet not
quite of it, to permit me to take this solace. So we talked quietly
for a space, and then fell once more to sleep.

CHAPTER XIV

I AM DIRECTED INTO A NEW PATH

The following morning, when we resumed our quiet way in the canoe,
le pere Jean asked, "Well, my daughter, did any light come to you
through the darkness?"

"No, my father, but I have found a little quiet."

"That is much. Now I shall ask you to listen to me patiently, for
I may say much with which you will not agree, but you will trust
me that I only say that which I know to be best. We have every
reason to believe a serious descent will be made on Louisbourg in
the spring, so that, apart from any other reason, your presence in
a town which will in all probability suffer a bombardment, would
be unwise and undesirable in the last degree. You have no idea of
what war actually means; it is a horror that would haunt you to
your dying day."

"But, my father, in that case I should at least be by his side.
That in itself would mean everything to us both."

"That is a point I had not intended to touch on, my daughter. I
know the world. I know that men, banished to such exile as that in
which M. de Maxwell has lived, change much with the years. Think
how you have changed yourself, in happier surroundings than he has
known. Think what new connections he may have formed. Did you never
think that he--"

"Oh, my father, what would you tell me? Do you know M. de Maxwell?"

"I have never been in Louisbou