long ramble through the woods, where
they had gathered a profusion of wild flowers, Claude and Marguerite
found the old servant stretched lifeless on the slope before the door of
the hut. She had fallen forward on her face from her accustomed seat
near the fire, and was quite dead. There were no marks of suffering upon
her features; her end had seemingly been as peaceful as it was sudden,
and her spirit had, doubtless, wandered back to the sunny slopes of the
Somme, and the broad fields and blooming orchards of her beloved
Picardy.

They laid her body to rest beside Marie's, and the faithful old peasant
and the daughter of a noble slept side by side--equal in death.

The task completed, the two who were left wandered hand in hand in
silence about their lonely island, while on every side the birds fluted
joyously, and all Nature rejoiced in the beauty of the spring--unheeding
the presence of death.

As Claude gazed longingly over the wide, green waters, far off he
noticed a tiny speck, which, at first, seemed like the top of an
iceberg. Nearer it came, till it grew definite, and he saw, clearly
outlined against the sky, a vessel under full sail, steering towards the
straits of Belle Isle. It was the first ship they had seen, and they
rushed to their fire, and heaped it high with loads of dry boughs until
the flames shot into the air, and the smoke curled upwards in a mighty
column, and then spread over the ocean. They hoped to see the vessel
change her course and bear down upon their island. But their hopes were
in vain. She kept steadily on her way, and before night fell she had
vanished from their sight on the horizon.

On the high poop of the ship La Pommeraye paced with rapid, nervous
step. Land was in sight at last; he would soon be in the St Lawrence,
and with Marguerite. So he thought; while they prayed that the unknown
vessel might come a little nearer so that they might hail it.

As the ship passed away, Claude, in his despair, called on God to curse
the tyrant who had brought this suffering upon them; and, while he
prayed far away in Charlesbourg Royal, Roberval, on the eve of
departure, had six of his men stripped to the waist, lined up in the
square, and flogged till the blood streamed down their backs. The next
morning his ships were bearing away for the Old World, his hopes broken,
and his heart within him more savage than ever.

CHAPTER XIV

After the awful disappointment Claude and Margue