For any trace of them that
could be found, both might have been supernaturally spirited away. The
great house, that had re-echoed to the boy's prattle, was deathly still;
and neither wife, nor child, answered his call. The nurse was summoned.
She was positive _Madame_ was amusing the boy across the hall, and
reassuringly bustled off to find mother and son in the next room, and
the next, and yet the next; to discover each in succession empty.

Alarm spread to the Chateau servants. The simple _habitant_ maids were
questioned, but their only response was white-faced, blank amazement.

_Madame_ not returned!

_Madame_ not back!

Mon Dieu! What had happened? And all the superstition of hillside lore
added to the fear on each anxious face. Shortly after Monsieur went to
the city, _Madame_ had taken her little son out as usual for a morning
airing, and had been seen walking up and down the paths tracked through
the garden snow. Had _Monsieur_ examined the clearing between the house
and the forest? _Monsieur_ could see for himself the snow was too deep
and crusty among the trees for _Madame_ to go twenty paces into the
woods. Besides, foot-marks could be traced from the garden to the bush.
He need not fear wild animals. They were receding into the mountains as
spring advanced. Let him take another look about the open; and Hamilton
tore out-doors, followed by the whole household; but from the Chateau in
the center of the glade to the encircling border of snow-laden
evergreens there was no trace of wife or child.

Then Eric laughed at his own growing fears. Miriam must be in the house.
So the search of the old hall, that had once resounded to the drunken
tread of gay French grandees, began again. From hidden chamber in the
vaulted cellar to attic rooms above, not a corner of the Chateau was
left unexplored. Had any one come and driven her to the city? But that
was impossible. The roads were drifted the height of a horse and there
were no marks of sleigh runners on either side of the riding path. Could
she possibly have ventured a few yards down the main road to an
encampment of Indians, whose squaws after Indian custom made much of the
white baby? Neither did that suggestion bring relief; for the Indians
had broken camp early in the morning and there was only a dirty patch of
littered snow, where the wigwams had been.

The alarm now became a panic. Hamilton, half-crazed and unable to
believe his own senses, began wondering