exclaimed. "Where is Marguerite--or
Gabrielle--and who are you?"

"If Monsieur de Valricour has forgotten me, I have not forgotten one
who was once so kind to me," replied Amoahmeh.

"What!" said he, as the words called up a recollection of the interest
he had taken in Marguerite's _protegee_. "Why, you are the Indian girl
who saved Isidore's life at Fort William Henry. How came you here?"

Amoahmeh did not at first reply: she was not sure how far her
questioner was to be trusted with that secret.

"Do you know what you have done?" he continued, impatiently. "If, as I
fancy you have helped her to escape, I ought to have you taken out and
shot before you are an hour older."

"Amoahmeh is ready to die," was the calm rejoinder.

The baron strode up and down, scarce knowing whether to be most pleased
or angry, yet sorely puzzled what to do.

"Stay," said he. "You were handed over to me as Gabrielle; it is no
business of mine that my predecessor handed over to me the wrong
person, and let the right Gabrielle escape. And yet, glad as I am for
one thing," he added, looking compassionately on his prisoner, "it goes
to my heart to think that you should be repaid for your devotion by
such a fate as this, not to say worse still when I may not be here to
look after you. I cannot let you go," said he, stopping abruptly in
front of her; "no, I can't let you go. I don't care even to ask you
where she is, or anything about her; you have been delivered over to me
as Gabrielle, and my duty is to keep you safe. I might be shot--nay, I
would rather be than betray my trust."

Amoahmeh knelt down and took his hand.

"Monsieur," said she, "if all the doors of this cruel place were open
Amoahmeh would stay and die here rather than bring trouble on one who
has been kind to her and them."

"You are a noble girl indeed," said de Valricour, as he raised her up.
"Only one thing more--you need not fear my betraying you. How on earth
did you discover that she was here?"

"I was at Quebec some weeks ago," answered Amoahmeh, "and overheard
some of the market people talking about a ship which had arrived there
from Nantes. The sailors had told them there were two mysterious
passengers on board, who were said to be state prisoners. My heart
leaped when I thought of what my poor young benefactor had related to
me about the lady; and when I found that the vessel had gone further up
the river, I traced it to Three Rivers, where I he