priest spoke in tones of feverish impetuosity. At these words
Claude stood thunder-struck. It seemed as though this priest knew
something about his family. What did he know? How could he allude to
the honor of that family, and the hope of its redemption?

"O, fly! O, fly! Haste!" cried Mimi, who had at last found her voice.
"Don't think of me. Fly--save yourself, before it's too late."

"What! and leave you at his mercy?" said Claude.

"O, don't think of me," cried Mimi; "save yourself."

"Haste--come," cried the priest; "it is already too late. You have
wasted precious moments."

"I cannot," cried Claude, as he looked at Mimi, who stood in an
attitude of despair.

"Then you are lost," groaned the priest, in a voice of bitterest
grief.

[Illustration: "Mimi Suddenly Caught Claude By The Arm."]

CHAPTER XIX.

THE CAPTIVE AND THE CAPTORS.

Further conversation was now prevented by the approach of a company
of soldiers, headed by the commandant. Mimi stood as if rooted to the
spot, and then suddenly caught Claude by the arm, as though by her
weak strength she could save him from the fate which was impending
over him; but the priest interposed, and gently drew her away.

The soldiers halted at the entrance to the garden, and the commandant
came forward. His face was clouded and somewhat stern, and every
particle of his old friendliness seemed to have departed.

"I regret, monsieur," said he, "the unpleasant necessity which forces
me to arrest you; but, had I known anything about your crime, you
would have been put under arrest before you had enjoyed my
hospitality."

"O, monsieur!" interrupted Mimi.

The commandant turned, and said, severely, "I trust that the Countess
de Laborde will see the impropriety of her presence here. Monsieur
L'Abbe, will you give the countess your arm into the house?"

Pere Michel, at this, led Mimi away. One parting look she threw upon
Claude, full of utter despair, and then, leaning upon the arm of the
priest, walked slowly in.

Claude said not a word in reply to the address of the commandant. He
knew too well that under present circumstances words would be utterly
useless. If Cazeneau was indeed alive, and now in Louisbourg, then
there could be no hope for himself. If the former charges which led
to his arrest should be insufficient to condemn him, his attack upon
Cazeneau would afford sufficient cause to his enemy to glut his
vengeance.

The soldiers took him i