, you will let
me know when the priest sets out for Pembina?"

I vowed more emphatically than the case required that she should know.

"Are there no dark halls in there, unsafe for you?" I questioned.

"None," and she went up the first step of the doorway.

"Are you sure you're safe?" I also mounted a step.

"Yes, quite, thank you," and she retreated farther, "and you, have you
forgotten you came to see Mr. Hamilton?"

"Why--so I did," I stammered out absently.

She was on the top step, pulling the latch-string of the great door.

"Stop! Frances--dear!" I cried.

She stood motionless and I felt that this last rashness of an unruly
tongue--too frank by far--had finished me.

"What? Can I do anything to repay you for your trouble in bringing me
here?"

"I've been repaid," I answered, "but indeed, indeed, long live the
Queen! May it please Her Majesty to grant a token to her leal and
devoted knight----"

"What is thy request?" she asked laughingly. "What token doth the knight
covet?"

"The token that goes with _good-nights_," and I ventured a pace up the
stairs.

"There, Sir Knight," she returned, hastily putting out her hand, which
was not what I wanted, but to which I gratefully paid my devoir. "Art
satisfied?" she asked.

"Till the Queen deigns more," and I paused for a reply.

She lingered on the threshold as if she meant to come down to me, then
with a quick turn vanished behind the gloomy doors, taking all the
light of my world with her; but I heard a voice, as of some happy bird
in springtime, trilling from the hall where she had gone, and a new song
made music in my own heart.

CHAPTER XI

A SHUFFLING OF ALLEGIANCE

Time was when Fort Douglas rang as loudly with mirth of assembled
traders as ever Fort William's council hall. Often have I heard veterans
of the Hudson's Bay service relate how the master of revels used to fill
an ample jar with corn and quaff a beaker of liquor for every grain in
the drinker's hour-glass.

"How stands the hour-glass?" the governor of the feast, who was
frequently also the governor of the company, would roar out in
stentorian tones, that made themselves heard above the drunken brawl.

"High, Your Honor, high," some flunkey of the drinking bout would bawl
back.

Thereupon, another grain was picked from the jar, another flagon tossed
down and the revel went on. This was a usual occurrence before and after
the conflict with the Nor'-Westers. But the n