"With all the pleasure in the world, mon general," and he bowed and hurried off to order the sleigh. In a few moments we whirled out of the court-yard and were driving rapidly up Palace Hill.

M. Joannes chattered incessantly, which was the very spur I most needed. His open friendliness and my sure confidence in the protection of M. de Montcalm gave me a feeling of safety against any attempt on the part of M. de Sarennes that was perfectly rea.s.suring, and I slept that night without a fear, in spite of what I had gone through, until awakened by Angelique as the day was breaking.

"Oh, Marguerite, for shame! To think of your being at the ball and never letting me know!" she cried, to my consternation; but added, immediately: "I'm glad you went, though. Didn't we all look fine?"

"Very fine, and I admired you most of all the women, cherie."

"Flatterer! You made a fine stir yourself when you crossed the floor. I wish I had seen you, and I would have captured you, then and there! Did you not know you could have gone round by the pa.s.sage?"

"That is the way I came; but when I wished to go, the door was locked," I answered, boldly, as I saw she suspected nothing.

"I guessed who it was the moment they spoke of your hair; but I told no one, not even M. de Maxwell. Did you see him? He wore a brown coat laced with silver, and we were at your end of the room, I suppose, while you were there."

"Yes, cherie, I saw him when he first came to you."

"And am I not right? Has he not le bel air?"

"He certainly has."

"But who else in the world do you think was there? You will never guess. Charles! He was on his way to Montreal, and came to the ball only to see me in my finery, he said. Not every brother would do that, let me tell you! and he is off the first thing this morning without ever coming to the house. Now I must be off to bed; I couldn't help waking you to tell you my news;" and she kissed me and went to dream of her pleasures.

The following afternoon we went to the Jesuits for benediction--to me the sweetest service of the day. It was already growing dark as we entered. Within, the narrow windows broke the blackness of the walls with their slits of dull gray, and the worshippers sate or knelt in the twilight, a shadowy throng, over which the twinkling flood of light from countless tapers on the altar broke in yellow softness.

The peaceful, tender service was in perfect harmony with the quiet of the evening, and I felt my heart filled with a great comfort; when suddenly from the loft behind us, where the musicians stood, floated out the familiar words,

Tantum ergo sacramentum Veneremur cernui...

and I sank trembling to my knees, for the voice to me was as the voice of an angel--it was Hugh's! I covered my face with my hands and wept silent, blessed tears of joy, while the beautiful hymn thrilled through my very soul.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "Tantum ergo sacramentum Veneremur cernui..."]

"It is M. de Maxwell," whispered Angelique; but I could make no answer.

As I walked home with Angelique, her enthusiastic praise of Hugh stirred in me no spark of resentment, much less of jealousy; her satisfaction that I should have seen and admired was so honest and open, and the glimpse I had caught of his bearing towards her was so rea.s.suring, that I was undisturbed. In spite of the truculent suggestions of M. de Sarennes, and even in the face of my own doubts and fears and pride, I was so won back to the old dreamings, so reawakened to the old longings, that I felt nothing less than his own words could ever satisfy me that I had been mistaken. After all, I could not see that I ran any serious risk in meeting him; in such a place as Quebec it was likely to happen at any moment; and surely it were better to take place when I was prepared. At the worst, my position as Mme. de St. Just would still serve to stand between us, and I felt a.s.sured I could rely on his forbearance.

However, I was not suffered to come to any conclusion, for Mme. de Sarennes met us as we entered, with tidings that drove everything else out of my head for the moment.

"Marguerite, I have news for you. La mere de Ste. Helene sends word, saying an Englishwoman has been brought to the Hotel-Dieu, and from the description I believe her to be Lucie. Do you both go at once and ascertain."

We hurried off in great excitement, and an interview with the Superior satisfied us that the patient was indeed my poor Lucy.

She had been found that very morning, wandering in a benumbed and dazed condition on the road by the St. Charles, by a habitant coming with his load to early market, and as he had business at the Hotel-Dieu, he had carried her there and given her in charge of the nuns. She was much exhausted by cold and fasting, but sleep and food had restored her to consciousness, and, on finding she was English, they had at once sent us word.

"If you wish, you may see her now, madame," said the Superior. "And if we are right, it will serve to rea.s.sure her, for she is much troubled at being detained here."

Thanking her, I took my way in charge of a sister, and quietly entered the sick-room. The first glance at the frail face on the pillow told me our search had ended, and there was instant recognition in the eyes that met mine. I was by her bedside in a moment.

"Oh, my dear mistress!" she sobbed. "It was wicked of me to desert you, but I did not understand where you had gone."

"No, no, Lucy; I am the one to be forgiven. I should never have left you; but now we are together again, and when you are well nothing shall part us."

"Will you stay with me now? I am afraid here! It is all so strange, and I am not well," she ended, pitifully.

"Yes, Lucy, I will stay. But first I must ask permission, and send word to Mme. de Sarennes."

"Will you say to her that I am sorry?"

"Yes, dear; but no one is blaming you."

"You are all good," she said, with a sigh of content; and I ran off to obtain a ready approval of my stay from both the Superior and Angelique, who promised to return on the morrow.

My presence was all that was needed to quiet Lucy, and she pa.s.sed a restful night, to awaken so greatly improved that she readily talked of her wanderings. It was much as I had suspected; M. de Sarennes had wilfully encouraged and deceived her, feeding her delusion at every opportunity, even giving her directions for her road, in the evident intent of getting her out of the way, to have a freer hand in his designs. It was a relief to find that every one had treated her with kindness, and that she had found a shelter in St. Roch, with a widow, who was thankful for the trifle she paid for her lodging. Once she reached Quebec she was quite content, for she had only to wait until Christopher might appear. She gave no reason why she was wandering out by the St. Charles, and I did not question her; but no doubt she had really been ill for days, and was not fully conscious of her action.

Mme. de Sarennes came with Angelique in the morning, and it was touching to see how lively an interest this quiet Lucy had awakened in both their hearts.

"You are in good hands, my dear," said the old lady, graciously.

"Show your grat.i.tude by getting well and coming back to us."

"I will do my best, madame. G.o.d has been very good to me," she answered, in halting French; whereupon Mme. de Sarennes patted her cheek, and left to speak with her friend the Superior.

As she was going, Angelique beckoned me into the corridor, and whispered: "I was thinking last night that we might ask M. de Maxwell to come and give her news of her boy when he was in Louisbourg. You know Charles told us he was much with him there, and I am sure my mother can obtain leave from the Superior. What do you think?"

"I think it would do her more good than anything else in the world, We will ask her."

"Lucie," asked Angelique, "would you like me to bring a gentleman who was in Louisbourg, and who can give you news of Christophe when he was there?"

"Oh yes, mademoiselle; I should love it above all things," she answered, with a flush of joy over her pale face.

"Very well; we will come to-morrow."

There was every reason, for Lucy's sake, why Hugh should come, and in my heart I longed to see him again before I determined on my own course of action. It was a pleasing thought, too, that I should see him comforting one to whom it would mean so much.

The morrow was a long day for both of us, and at four o'clock, just as it was growing dusk, I sate by her bed, listening anxiously to every footfall in the corridor, until at last I caught Angelique's light step, followed by a firmer tread, which I recognised at once.

It would be hard to tell whether Lucy or I was the more excited.

"Be calm, Lucy," I whispered, laying a trembling hand on hers; and I drew my chair up to the head of the bed, so that I was completely hidden by its white curtain.

"Lucie," said Angelique, on entering, "I have brought my friend.

Shall he come in?"

"Yes, mademoiselle," answered Lucy, in an expectant voice.

I heard Angelique go towards the door, and then heard Hugh enter.

I caught the arms of my chair tightly as he approached the bed, when, to my amazement, I felt that Lucy had raised herself, and the next instant she cried, in a voice strained in agony:

"Hugh Maxwell! What have you done with our son?"