and so had thrown
myself into the power of Sarennes.

"Good-evening, mademoiselle," whispered a voice; and I faced about,
trembling with sudden terror, to find M. de Sarennes close behind me.

"Good-evening, mademoiselle," he repeated, smiling at my dismay.
"You did not expect to see me?"

"I did not know you were in Quebec," I gasped, trying hard to
recover my self-control.

"Nor did any one else, save your friend M. de Montcalm; I arrived
an hour ago."

"How did you know I was here?" I asked, to gain time.

"I guessed whither you had been drawn when I did not find you at
the house, and a crown to the right lackey brought me here. And
now, with your permission, we will finish that conversation your
friend the Jesuit interrupted more than six months ago. No, you
dare not cry out; and see, I have the key. You are more alone with
me here than in the woods at Beaulieu," and he smiled with an air
of triumph that made me desperate.

"It is useless to attempt to frighten me, monsieur," I said, boldly.
"I am among friends."

"Indeed? And you count this Chevalier de Maxwell among them?"

"I do; for now I understand the letter he sent."

"May I ask in what way?"

"In the way of a warning not to trust myself to a man in whom he
had no confidence."

"Ah! He has explained this to you himself?"

"No, monsieur; it was my own fault I did not see it at the time."

"Will you answer me one question truthfully? Have you seen M. de
Maxwell? You will not answer? Then your silence speaks for you.
Now if this letter had been sent with the meaning you pretend to
put upon it, do you not think M. de Maxwell would have sought you
out in a little place like Quebec, where he has no other occupation
on his hands than to win enough at pharaon to dress himself for
such duties as these?" he said, contemptuously, as he waved his
hand towards the ball-room; and with the sneering words my defence
of a few moments before was in the dust. "You have seen him here,"
he went on, when he marked the effect of his words. "Does he look
like a man who is eating his heart out; or like one who is free of
a burthen and trying to enjoy the present? Marguerite, listen to
me! For your sake I have braved disgrace and perhaps ruin; for your
sake I would go through it again--"

"How dare you speak to me thus, monsieur!" I interrupted. "You
insult me beyond endurance when you dare to say I ever inspired
any man to be a traitor and a coward."

"By God!"