r, are never fair judges of female beauty, we all know
that, though I rather wonder at my uncle's want of taste. Beautiful
she certainly is not--in the sense in which I might have understood the
word a twelvemonth ago; but a little wear and tear in the world makes
us look below the surface. I could envy a fellow now who had such a
girl for his sister; it makes a man selfish and frivolous if he has
only himself to think of. I don't believe I should have been guilty of
half the follies and extravagances which I am afraid I must own to if I
had always had such a young loving thing at my side to lead me to
better and gentler thoughts and ways. Well, I was not so favoured, so
much the worse for me. By the way, I suppose that as my uncle has now
entirely got over the effects of his wound, he will give up the notion
of going back to France till next year. I am glad of it; for I don't
think the baroness is likely to care much about having poor Marguerite
Lacroix on her hands, though it will be the very thing for Clotilde,
who must be moped to death in that dismal old chateau, without any one
of her own age to associate with and no amusement of any kind, for they
are as poor as church mice, and must find it hard enough to keep up
even the small appearance they do make. I wonder when I shall go back
to old France again! I thought when I left it that six months would be
quite enough of this; but I really do not think it so bad after all,
and now that I have got this staff appointment, why, I suppose I must
make up my mind to stay, at all events for next year's campaign."

So Isidore resigned himself to his fate; nay, when it came to his turn
to have the option of carrying despatches to the king in person, he
actually gave up the privilege in favour of a brother officer, who had
not got over his old longing to spend New Year's Day in Paris. It is
not for us to say how far Colonel de Beaujardin may have been
influenced by the private knowledge that General Montcalm's
head-quarters were to be transferred for a time to Quebec. Such,
however, was the case, and Isidore spent his New Year's Day under the
hospitable roof of Madame de Rocheval.

The first two or three days that Isidore passed at Quebec were
singularly happy ones. Some months had now elapsed since the death of
Captain Lacroix, and Marguerite had regained much of her natural
cheerfulness, which seemed all the more bright and winning for the
shade of melancholy th