from their sins and being reconciled
to Him."

The count gladly took the opportunity of explaining further the truths
of the Christian faith to the young chief, who seemed to drink in
eagerly every word he heard. It was the first of many visits he paid,
and often was his canoe to be seen, as the shades of evening drew on,
skimming across the tranquil waters of the harbour towards the mainland.

The Indians received such entertainment on their first visit as the
French could afford; and while it was yet daylight they returned in
their canoes to the shore.

One evening the count and his daughter were sitting in their house with
several guests, among whom Nigel was one. They had met to read God's
Word and to sing the hymns of Marot, which the French Protestants loved
so well. The weather, hitherto fine, had, before sunset, given signs of
changing. Dark clouds were seen gathering eastward, and already a damp
and chilly wind blew up the harbour's mouth, while the sea rolled in,
sending its billows with an angry roar against the foundations of the
new fort. As the tempest increased, a gun fired from each of the ships
summoned their respective officers and men on board, and Nigel had
unwillingly to hasten away from the house of his friend. It was not
without difficulty that the boats reached the ships. The topmasts and
topgallant masts were sent down on deck, and fresh anchors were got out.
The settlers, as they saw the masts of the ships through the gloom,
rolling from side to side, and watched the furious waves rushing in from
the sea, began to tremble for their safety. They had, however, to think
of themselves. The wind rapidly increased, the tall trees still
remaining on the island bent before it, and the waves washed over the
walls of the fort with relentless fury, threatening every moment to
overwhelm them. Villegagnon, who had remained on shore, fearing that
the guns might be lost, ordered them to be dragged out of the fort to a
place of safety. It was a task of no slight danger, for already the
woodwork trembled at each assault of the billows, and scarcely were the
guns removed than, crash succeeding crash, large fragments of the fort,
the construction of which had cost them so many days of labour, were
rent away, and either carried off by the retiring seas, or thrown high
up on the shore.

Constance de Tourville anxiously watched the progress of the storm. She
had accompanied her father and several of