ing out into song!

"Father," said Flora, as her sire, wearied by a long spell at the bow
oar, resigned his seat to Kenneth, and sat down beside her, "that
glorious light brings to my remembrance a very sweet verse, `Weeping may
endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning.'"

"True, true, Flo," returned her father, "I wish I had the simple faith
that you seem to possess, but I haven't, so there's no use in pretending
to it. This," he added bitterly, "seems only a pure and unmitigated
disaster. The last remnant of my fortune is wrecked, I am utterly
ruined, and my poor boy is perhaps dying."

Flora did not reply. She felt that in his present state of mind nothing
she could say would comfort him.

At that moment Le Rue suddenly roused himself, and suggested that it was
about time to think of breakfast.

As all the party were of the same mind, the boat was allowed to drift
down the gulf with the tide, while the pork and biscuit-bags were
opened. Little time was allowed for the meal, nevertheless the
mercurial Canadian managed, between mouthfuls, to keep up a running
commentary on things in general. Among other things he referred to the
property which his master had just purchased in Partridge Bay.

"Whereabouts is this property that you talk of?" asked McLeod, becoming
interested at the mention of Partridge Bay.

"About la tete of de village near de house of Monsieur Gambart."

"What like a place is it?" asked McLeod, becoming suddenly much more
interested.

"Oh! one place mos bootiful," replied Le Rue, with enthusiasm; "de house
is superb, de grounds splendeed, et le prospect magnifique, wid plenty
of duck--perhaps sometimes goose, vild vons--in von lac near cliff
immense."

At the mention of the lake and the cliff McLeod's brow darkened, and he
glanced at Flora, who met his glance with a look of surprise.

"Did you happen to hear the name of the place?" asked McLeod.

"Oui, it vas, I tink, Lac Do, or Doo--someting like so."

"The scoundrel!" muttered McLeod between his teeth, while a gleam of
wrath shot from his eyes.

Le Rue looked at him with some surprise, being uncertain as to the
person referred to by this pithy remark, and Flora glanced at him with a
look of anxiety.

After a brief silence he said to Flora in a low tone, as though he were
expressing the continuation of his thoughts, "To think that the fellow
should thus abuse my hospitality by inducing me to speak of our fallen
fortune