haggard,
miserable band, more like scarecrows than human beings.

Among them were a maiden of twenty and a boy of twelve years of age,
whose fortunes we shall follow in these pages. She was Constance de
Bernon, the only daughter of one of the most important families, and
he, Raoul de Bernon, her nephew, now an orphan, both his parents having
perished in the dreadful days of the siege.

Not all the horrors she had witnessed, nor the sufferings she had
borne, in the least degree shook Constance's fidelity to her faith.
She was of the stuff which makes martyrs, and would have died at the
stake rather than renounce her religion. Right glad, therefore, was
she when her parents succeeded in effecting their escape from old
France, where only persecution awaited Protestants, and making their
way across the Atlantic Ocean to the new France, where it was possible
to be true to one's belief without having to suffer for it.

The de Bernons settled in what was then known as Acadia, now the
Province of Nova Scotia, and began life again amid the wildness of the
land which the Micmac and Melecite Indians had hitherto held as their
hunting-ground. Raoul accompanied them. Since the loss of his parents
his whole heart had gone out to Constance. Never was aunt more beloved
by nephew. It might indeed with truth be said that he fairly
worshipped her, and found in her companionship the chief solace for his
great bereavement.

While to the older people the change from the comfort and security of
their former life at La Rochelle to the crude and hard conditions of
their new home could not help being a very trying one, Raoul, on the
contrary, was rather pleased with it. There was no going to school,
nor learning of lessons, except when his aunt could now and then spare
an hour to spend with him over the few books they had been able to
bring. He lived out-of-doors for the most part, and had no difficulty
in finding plenty to occupy his time.

He was a sturdy lad, with a bright, strong countenance, which gave good
promise for the future if only he kept in the right path; and he made
many friends, not only among the settlers, but also among the Indians,
some of whose camps were always near at hand.

"It seems to me you do not miss La Rochelle very much, Raoul," said
Constance to him as they sat at the door of the house in the quiet of
the evening, when all the work of the day was over. "You are quite
happy here, are you not?"

Th