mind was buoyant with spontaneity, and there was a quality of
aggressive origination in it which scattered all conventionalities as
splinters before it. Pauline was likely to lean upon Zulma, listen with
admiration to her brilliant talk, ask her advice and then smile, fearing
to act upon it. Zulma, on the other hand, was not inclined to claim or
exercise patronage. She was actually too independent for that, and in
regard to Pauline, more particularly, she rather preferred bending as
much as she could to her level. In the few months after Zulma's return
from France, however, the girls had frequently met, and they would have
liked to see more of each other, had they not both been retained a great
deal at home by the seclusion of M. Belmont and the infirmities of Sieur
Sarpy respectively.

On the present occasion Pauline was one of the friends upon whom Zulma
called, and naturally her first business was to acquaint her with the
landing of the Continentals. She was surprised to find that the
intelligence caused a deathly pallor to spread over the features of her
companion.

"The siege will begin in earnest, and we shall be cut off from all the
world," murmured Pauline. "And my father has not yet returned."

"Is he outside of the city?" asked Zulma.

"Yes. He went away yesterday, promising to return early this morning.
His delay did not alarm me, but now from what you tell me, I fear he may
get into trouble."

"Do not fret, my dear. It will take several days before the city is
invested, and your father's return will not be interfered with. Besides,
he is not a militant, I believe."

Pauline drew a sigh, but said nothing. Zulma resumed:

"I am sure he is neutral like my father, and such will not be annoyed."

"I wish I could be sure of that, but----," and Pauline suddenly checked
herself as if fearful of giving expression to her suspicions.

"You must remember, my dear, that these Americans are not so black as
they are painted. They are men like others, and true soldiers are always
merciful," added Zulma.

"Indeed! Do you think so? I hardly know what to say about them. Father
says very little of late, but there is a friend of ours who speaks of
them in terms of hostility."

"He must be an ultra loyalist."

"He is a British officer."

"A British officer? Why, Pauline, I thought your father kept aloof from
British officials."

"Oh, but this one is really a Canadian and speaks French like
ourselves," said Pauli