"That has he," remarked La Corne St. Luc; "I have spoken to the Sieur Philibert and cautioned him, but he is not impressible on the subject of his own safety. The Intendant spoke savagely of him in public the other day."

"Did he, Chevalier?" replied Philibert, his eyes flashing with another fire than that which had filled them looking at Amelie. "He shall account to me for his words, were he Regent instead of Intendant!"

La Corne St. Luc looked half approvingly at Philibert.

"Don't quarrel with him yet, Pierre! You cannot make a quarrel of what he has said."

Lady de Tilly listened uneasily, and said,--

"Don't quarrel with him at all, Pierre Philibert! Judge him and avoid him, as a Christian man should do. God will deal with Bigot as he deserves: the crafty man will be caught in his own devices some day."

"Oh, Bigot is a gentleman, aunt, too polite to insult any one," remarked Le Gardeur, impatient to defend one whom he regarded as a friend. "He is the prince of good fellows, and not crafty, I think, but all surface and sunshine."

"You never explored the depths of him, Le Gardeur," remarked La Corne.

"I grant he is a gay, jesting, drinking, and gambling fellow in company; but, trust me, he is deep and dark as the Devil's cave that I have seen in the Ottawa country. It goes story under story, deeper and deeper, until the imagination loses itself in contemplating the bottomless pit of it--that is Bigot, Le Gardeur."

"My censitaires report to me," remarked the Lady de Tilly, "that his commissaries are seizing the very seed-corn of the country. Heaven knows what will become of my poor people next year if the war continue!"

"What will become of the Province in the hands of Francois Bigot?"

replied La Corne St. Luc. "They say, Philibert, that a certain great lady at Court, who is his partner or patroness, or both, has obtained a grant of your father's sequestered estate in Normandy, for her relative, the Count de Marville. Had you heard of that, Philibert? It is the latest news from France."

"Oh, yes, Chevalier! Ill news like that never misses the mark it is aimed at. The news soon reached my father!"

"And how does your father take it?"

"My father is a true philosopher; he takes it as Socrates might have taken it; he laughs at the Count de Marville, who will, he says, want to sell the estate before the year is out, to pay his debts of honor--the only debts he ever does pay."

"If Bigot had anything to do with such an outrage," exclaimed Le Gardeur warmly, "I would renounce him on the spot. I have heard Bigot speak of this gift to De Marville, whom he hates. He says it was all La Pompadour's doing from first to last, and I believe it."

"Well," remarked La Corne, "Bigot has plenty of sins of his own to answer for to the Sieur Philibert, on the day of account, without reckoning this among them."

The loud report of a cannon shook the windows of the room, and died away in long-repeated echoes among the distant hills.

"That is the signal for the Council of War, my Lady," said La Corne. "A soldier's luck! just as we were going to have music and heaven, we are summoned to field, camp, or council."

The gentlemen rose and accompanied the ladies to the drawing-room, and prepared to depart. Colonel Philibert took a courteous leave of the ladies of Tilly, looking in the eyes of Amelie for something which, had she not turned them quickly upon a vase of flowers, he might have found there. She plucked a few sprays from the bouquet, and handed them to him as a token of pleasure at meeting him again in his own land.

"Recollect, Pierre Philibert!" said the Lady de Tilly, holding him cordially by the hand, "the Manor House of Tilly is your second home, where you are ever welcome."

Philibert was deeply touched by the genuine and stately courtesy of the lady. He kissed her hand with grateful reverence, and bowing to both the ladies, accompanied La Corne St. Luc and Le Gardeur to the castle of St.

Louis.

Amelie sat in the recess of the window, resting her cheek upon her tremulous hand as she watched the gentlemen proceed on their way to the castle. Her mind was overflowing with thoughts and fancies, new, enigmatical, yet delightful. Her nervous manner did not escape the loving eye of her aunt; but she spoke not--she was silent under the burden of a secret joy that found not vent in words.

Suddenly Amelie rose from the window, and seated herself, in her impulsive way, at the organ. Her fingers touched the keys timidly at first as she began a trembling prelude of her own fantasy. In music her pent-up feelings found congenial expression. The fire kindled, and she presently burst out with the voice of a seraph in that glorious psalm, the 116th:

"'Toto pectore diligam Unice et Dominum colam, Qui lenis mihi supplici Non duram appulit aurem.

Aurem qui mihi supplici, Non duram dedit; hunc ego Donec pectora spiritus Pulset semper, amabo.'"

The Lady de Tilly, half guessing the truth, would not wound the susceptibilities of her niece by appearing to do so; so rose quietly from her seat and placed her arms gently round Amelie when she finished the psalm. She pressed her to her bosom, kissed her fondly, and without a word, left her to find in music relief from her high-wrought feelings.

Her voice rose in sweeter and loftier harmonies to the pealing of the organ as she sang to the end the joyful yet solemn psalm, in a version made for Queen Mary of France and Scotland when life was good, hope all brightness, and dark days as if they would never come.

CHAPTER XII. THE CASTLE OF ST. LOUIS.

The Count de la Galissoniere, with a number of officers of rank in full uniform, was slowly pacing up and down the long gallery that fronted the Castle of St. Louis, waiting for the Council of War to open; for although the hour had struck, the Intendant, and many other high officials of the Colony, had not yet arrived from Beaumanoir.

The Castle of St. Louis, a massive structure of stone, with square flanking towers, rose loftily from the brink of the precipice, overlooking the narrow, tortuous streets of the lower town. The steeple of the old Church of Notre Dame des Victoires, with its gilded vane, lay far beneath the feet of the observer as he leaned over the balustrade of iron that guarded the gallery of the Chateau.

A hum of voices and dense sounds rose up from the market of Notre Dame and from the quay where ships and bateaux were moored. The cries of sailors, carters, and habitans in thick medley floated up the steep cliffs, pleasant sounds to the ear of the worthy Governor, who liked the honest noises of industry and labor better than all the music of the Academy.

A few merchantmen which had run the blockade of the English cruisers lay at anchor in the stream, where the broad river swept majestically round the lofty cape. In the midst of them a newly-arrived King's ship, the Fleur-de-Lis, decorated with streamers, floated proudly, like a swan among a flock of teal.

Le Gardeur, as an officer of the garrison, went to report himself to the military commandant, while La Corne St. Luc and Colonel Philibert proceeded to the gallery, where a crowd of officers were now assembled, waiting for the Council.

The Governor at once called Philibert aside, and took his arm.

"Philibert," said he, "I trust you had no difficulty in finding the Intendant?"

"No difficulty whatever, your Excellency. I discovered the Intendant and his friends by ear long before I got sight of them." An equivocal smile accompanied Philibert's words, which the Governor rightly interpreted.

"Ah! I understand, Philibert; they were carousing at that hour of daylight? Were they all--? Faugh! I shame to speak the word. Was the Intendant in a condition to comprehend my summons?" The Governor looked sad, rather than surprised or angry, for he had expected no less than Philibert had reported to him.

"I found him less intoxicated, I think, than many of his guests. He received your message with more politeness than I expected, and promised to be here punctually at the hour for opening the Council."

"Oh, Bigot never lacks politeness, drunk or sober: that strong intellect of his seems to defy the power of wine, as his heart is proof against moral feeling. You did not prolong your stay in Beaumanoir, I fancy?"

remarked the Governor, dinting the point of his cane into the floor.

"I hastened out of it as I would out of hell itself! After making prize of my friend De Repentigny and bringing him off with me, as I mentioned to you, I got quickly out of the Chateau."

"You did rightly, Philibert: the Intendant is ruining half the young men of birth in the Colony."

"He shall not ruin Le Gardeur if I can save him," said Philibert, resolutely. "May I count upon your Excellency's cooperation?" added he.

"Assuredly, Philibert! Command me in anything you can devise to rescue that noble young fellow from the fatal companionship of Bigot. But I know not how long I shall be permitted to remain in New France: powerful intrigues are at work for my removal!" added the Governor. "I care not for the removal, so that it be not accompanied with insult."

"Ah! you have received news to-day by the frigate?" said Philibert, looking down at the King's ship at anchor in the stream.

"News? Yes; and such news, Philibert!" replied the Governor in at one of despondency. "It needs the wisdom of Solon to legislate for this land, and a Hercules to cleanse its Augean stables of official corruption. But my influence at Court is nil--you know that, Philibert!"

"But while you are Governor your advice ought to prevail with the King,"

replied Philibert.

"My advice prevail! Listen, Philibert: my letters to the King and the Minister of Marine and Colonies have been answered by whom, think you?"