ing eyes! I admit, I
believed the disloyal one, and doubted her who was loyalty itself."

"And you would go back into the wilderness with one who was as false as
you say."

"Never!" replied John Law, swiftly. "'Tis as you yourself say. 'Tis all
over. Hell itself hath followed me. Now let it all go, one with the
other, little with big. I did not forget, nor should I though I tried
again. Back to Europe, back to the gaming tables, to the wheels and
cards I go again, and plunge into it madder than ever did man before.
Let us see if chance can bring John Law anything worse than what he has
already known. But, Madam, doubt not. So long as you claim my
protection, here or anywhere on earth--in the West, in France, in
England--it is yours; for I pay for my folly like a man, be assured of
that. The child is ours, and it must be considered. But once let me find
you in unfaithfulness--once let me know that you resign me--then John
Law is free! I shall sometime see Catharine Knollys again. I shall give
her my heart's anguish, and I shall have her heart's scorn in return.
And then, Mary Connynge, the cards, dice, perhaps drink--perhaps gold,
and the end. Madam, remember! And now come!"

CHAPTER XV

THE GREAT PEACE

Of the long and bitter journey from the Iroquois towns to Lake St.
George, down the Richelieu and thence through the deep snows of the
Canadian winter, it boots little to make mention; neither to tell of
that devotion of Raoul de Ligny to the newly-rescued lady, already
reputed in camp rumor to be of noble English family.

"That _sous-lieutenant_; he is _tete montee_ regarding madame," said
Pierre Noir one evening to Jean Breboeuf. "As to that--well, you know
Monsieur L'as. Pouf! So much for yon monkey, _par comparaison_."

"He is a great _capitaine_, Monsieur L'as," said Jean Breboeuf. "Never a
better went beyond the Straits."

"But very sad of late."

"Oh, _oui_, since the death of his friend, Monsieur _le Capitaine_
Pembroke--may Mary aid his spirit!"

"Monsieur L'as goes not on the trail again," said Pierre Noir. "At
least not while this look is in his eye."

"The more the loss, Pierre Noir; but some day the woods will call to him
again. I know not how long it may be, yet some day Mother Messasebe will
raise her finger and beckon to Monsieur L'as, and say: 'Come, my son!'
'Tis thus, as you know, Pierre Noir."

Yet at length the straggling settlements at Montreal were reached, and
here, after t