CHAPTER XII

THE HEART OF A WOMAN

As I sat in the officers' quarters, listening to the conversation
regarding existing conditions at the Fort and the unrest among the
Indians of the border, my thoughts kept veering from sudden and
ungracious disappearance of Mademoiselle to the early seeking after
that hapless orphan child for whose sake I had already travelled so far
and entered into such danger. Evidently, if I was to aid her my quest
must be no longer interrupted.

With characteristic gallantry, De Croix had at once been attracted
toward Lieutenant Helm's young and pretty bride, and they two had
already forgotten all sense of existing peril in a most animated
discussion of the latest fashionable modes in Montreal. I was not a
little amused by the interest manifest in her soft blue eyes as she
spoke with all the art of a woman versed in such mysteries, and at the
languid air of elegance with which he bore himself. Meanwhile, I
answered as best I might the flood of questions addressed to me by the
two officers, who, having been shut out from the world so long, were
naturally eager for military news from Fort Wayne and from the seat of
government. As these partially ceased, I asked: "Has a date been set
for the abandonment of the Fort?"

"We march out upon the fifteenth," was Helm's reply, "the day after
to-morrow, unless something occurs meanwhile to change Captain Heald's
plans. I confess I dread its coming, much as I imagine a condemned man
might dread the date of his execution," and his grave eyes wandered
toward his young wife, as if fearful his words might be overheard by
her. "There are other lives than mine endangered, and their peril
makes duty doubly hard."

"Lieutenant," I said, recalled to my own mission by these words, "I
myself am seeking to be of service to one here,--the young daughter of
one Roger Matherson, an old soldier who died at this post last month.
He was long my father's faithful comrade in arms, and with his dying
breath begged our care for his orphan child. It has come to us as a
sacred trust, and I was despatched upon this errand. Can you tell me
where this girl is to be found?"

Before he could frame a reply, for he was somewhat slow of speech, his
wife, who had turned from De Croix, and was listening with interest to
my story, spoke impulsively.

"Why, we have been wondering, Mr. Wayland, where she could have gone.
Not that we have worried, for she is a girl well a