exhumed, was found to contain only
stones and rubbish. What the fate of the body was no one
has since discovered, but it has been conjectured that
it was taken during the night by Riel's bloodhounds and
dropped through the ice into the river.

Mr. Young was faithful to his pledge. On the following
day he set out over the bitter, snowy wastes for Pembina,
and thence through storm, and over pathless stretches he
held his way till he reached the settlement where abode
Marie and her father.

She was sitting at the window-pane thinking of her lover
when the stranger passed; and she opened the door to the
clergyman's knock. There could be no mistaking who this
girl was, and the clergyman's heart was numb as he looked
upon her.

"Did he send me any message?" And then reflecting that
this man was a stranger who may never have seen her lover,
she blushed deeply. But she recovered herself in a moment.

"Where does Monsieur come from?"

"From Winnipeg."

"O, then," she thought, "he perhaps _does_ know my beloved.
Is there peace there now," she asked, "or is that wicked
man still at his evil deeds?"

"There is not peace at Red River, my child. Come in;--it
is to speak to you about events at Red River that I have
come all the way from that far settlement."

She learnt her doom, and the good clergyman sat by her
trying to afford some consolation. But she seemed not to
understand the meaning of his words, or even to hear
them. The blow had been too overwhelming for mortal tongue
to fashion words that could convey aught of comfort. She
sat there, her face like a stone, her eyes tearless. Yes,
she read his letter and kissed his presents. She would
fold the letter sometimes and lay it away near to her
heart. Then she would open it again, spread it upon her
lap, and sit half the day alternately looking at, and
tenderly handling it. A few days and nights were spent
during which she spake no word, eat no food, nor took
any sleep. At the end of the fourth day they found her
on a little seat beside the door where _he_ had said
good-bye to her. She had his letter in her hand and his
ring upon her finger. But she was dead.

CHAPTER IX.

After the return of Mr. McDougall to Ottawa, and while
the Government press busied itself in laying upon that
gentleman's shoulders the blame which should have been
debited to the blundering of the administration, steps
were being taken to have an armed force sent at once to
the scene