, among the savages. _Voila_, Monsieur! We take you again
captive, and 'tis madame enslaves us all!"

There had indeed ensued conversation between the young French officer
above named and Mary Connynge; yet prompt as might have been the former
with gallant attentions to so fair a captive, it could not have been
said that he was allowed the first advances. Mary Connynge, even after a
month of starving foot travel and another month of anxiety at the
Iroquois villages, had lost neither her rounded body, her brilliance of
eye and color, nor her subtle magnetism of personality. It had taken
stronger head than that of Raoul de Ligny to withstand even her slight
request. How, then, as to Mary Connynge supplicating, entreating,
craving of him protection?

"Ah, you brave Frenchmen," said she to De Ligny, advancing to him as he
stood apart, twisting his mustaches and not unmindful of this very
possibility of a conversation with the captive. "You brave Frenchmen,
how can we thank you for our salvation? It was all so horrible!"

"It is our duty to save all, Madame," rejoined De Ligny; "our happiness
unspeakable to save such as Madame. I swear by my sword, I had as soon
expected to find an angel with the Iroquois as to meet there Madame!
Quebec--all Quebec has told me who Madame was and is. And I am your
slave."

"Oh, sir, could you but mean that!" and there was turned upon him the
full power of a gaze which few men had ever been able to withstand. The
blood of De Ligny tingled as he bowed and replied.

"If Madame could but demand one proof."

Mary Connynge stepped closer to him. "Hush!" she said. "Speak low! Do
not let it seem that we are interested. Keep your own counsel. Can you
do this?"

The eyes of the young officer gleamed. He was bold enough to respond.
This his temptress noted.

He nodded.

"You see that man--the tall one, John Law? Listen! It is from him I ask
you to save me. Oh, sir, there is my captivity!"

"What! Your husband?"

"He is not my husband."

"_Mais_--a thousand pardons. The child--your pardon."

"Pish! 'Tis the child of an Indian woman."

"Oh!" The blood again came to the young gallant's forehead.

"Listen, I tell you! I have been scarce better than a prisoner in this
man's hands. He has abused me, threatened me, would have beaten me--"

"Madame--Mademoiselle!"

"'Tis true. We have been far in the West, and I could not escape. Good
Providence has now brought my rescue--and you, Monsieur