utterance and turned impatiently away, lest he
might curse the King as well as the favorite.

"But what became of the poor deceived girl?" asked the Lady de Tilly,
after hastily clearing her eyes with her handkerchief.

"Oh, the old, old story followed. She ran away from home in an agony of
shame and fear, to avoid the return of her father from France. She went
among the Indians of the St. Croix, they say, and has not been heard of
since. Poor, dear girl! her very trust in virtue was the cause of her
fall!"

Amelie turned alternately pale and red at the recital of her godfather.
She riveted her eyes upon the ground as she pressed close to her aunt,
clasping her arm, as if seeking strength and support.

Lady de Tilly was greatly shocked at the sad recital. She inquired the
name of the man of rank who had acted so treacherously to the hapless
girl.

"I will not utter the name to-day, my Lady! It has been revealed to me
as a great secret. It is a name too high for the stroke of the law,
if there be any law left us but the will of a King's mistress! God,
however, has left us the law of a gentleman's sword to avenge its
master's wrong. The Baron de St. Castin will soon return to vindicate
his own honor, and whether or no, I vow to heaven, my Lady, that the
traitor who has wronged that sweet girl will one day have to try whether
his sword be sharper than that of La Corne St. Luc! But pshaw! I am
talking bravado like an Indian at the war post. The story of those
luckless New England wives has carried us beyond all bounds."

Lady de Tilly looked admiringly, without a sign of reproof, at the old
soldier, sympathizing with his honest indignation at so foul a wrong to
her sex. "Were that dear child mine, woman as I am, I would do the same
thing!" said she, with a burst of feeling. She felt Amelie press her arm
as if she too shared the spirit of her bolder aunt.

"But here comes Felix Baudoin to summon us to dinner!" exclaimed Lady de
Tilly, as an old, white-headed servitor in livery appeared at the door
with a low bow, announcing that dinner was served.

Le Gardeur and La Corne St. Luc greeted the old servitor with the
utmost kindness, inquired after his health, and begged a pinch from
his well-worn snuff-box. Such familiarities were not rare in that day
between the gentlemen of New France and their old servants, who usually
passed their lifetime in one household. Felix was the majordomo of the
Manor House of Tilly, trust