ing so, she
offered him, in the name of her father and in her own, a welcome home in
the Sarpy mansion. In fact, she insisted that she would allow her to
live nowhere else. Cary smiled and thanked Zulma with an approving nod.
Pauline had not a word to utter, but her answer was only too painfully
significant when she buried her face in her hands and gave way to a
tempest of grief. Perplexity was painted on every countenance. Batoche
alone retained his equanimity, and calmly, but with a tone almost of
authority, he said:

"M. Belmont, it is near midnight. There is a long road to travel. A
decision must at once be made. What do you say?"

M. Belmont still hesitated.

"Then, Pauline will decide. Come, my dear, shall we go or stay?"

Pauline immediately rose, and with a look of pathetic imploring,
murmured:

"Oh, father, let us go."

M. Belmont instantly complied. As Batoche signified his intention of
going along, in order to see them safe within the walls, Zulma earnestly
demanded permission to accompany him. M. Belmont, Pauline, and Cary
tried their best to dissuade her, but the old soldier silenced their
objections by at once according his consent. The wounded officer having
received the last attention for the night, the party took their
departure. They reached Quebec without incident, and Batoche readily
found an opening for them into the town from a ravine in the valley of
the St. Charles.

Zulma and Pauline embraced each other fervidly.

"Before we separate, I have a dreadful secret to tell you," said
Pauline.

"What is it, my dear?"

"Do you know who pointed the gun that wounded the Captain?"

"I do not."

"Can't you guess?"

"No."

"It was Roderick Hardinge."

The eyes of the two friends exchanged sparks of fire.

On the return journey, Zulma inquired of Batoche:--

"Do you know who fired the fatal gun against you from the walls?"

"I do."

"Does Captain Singleton know it?"

"He does not."

"Why did you not tell him?"

"On account of little Pauline."

XVII.

NISI DOMINUS.

Quebec was the centre of missionary labor for years before our Atlantic
coast was thoroughly settled. The church of San Domingo is older, having
been founded in 1614. That of Mexico dates from 1524, and that of Havana
was established at an earlier epoch still. But none of these can be said
to have exercised the same influence which distinguished the city of
Champlain. From Quebec came forth nearly all th