is home again, kneeling at her old father's feet, pleading for
forgiveness, he will forgive--have no fear, _mon ami_."

So Jacqueline had left her home not more than a week before! And the
captain had no suspicion that she was married then! Yet Pere Antoine
claimed to have performed the ceremony.

To whom? And where was the man who should have stood in my place and
shielded her against Leroux?

I made Dubois understand, not without difficulty, that we were still
unmarried. His face fell when he realized that I was in earnest, but
after a little he made the best of the situation, though it was evident
that some of the glamour was scratched from the romance in his opinion.

By now we had arrived at the wharf. It was a short pier at the foot of
one of the numerous narrow streets that run down from the base of the
mighty cliff which ascends to the ramparts and Park Frontenac. On
either side, wedged in among the floes, lay a small ship of not many
tons' burden--the _Claire_ and the _Sainte-Vierge_ respectively. The
latter vessel lay upon our right as we approached the end of the wharf.

"Hallo! Hallo, Pierre!" shouted Dubois in what must have resembled his
dinner voice, and a seaman with a short black beard came running up the
deck and stopped at the gangway.

"It is all right," said Dubois, after a few moments' conversation.
"Pierre understands all that is necessary, and he will tell the men.
And now I will show you the ship."

There was a small cabin for Jacqueline and another for myself
adjoining. This accommodation had been built for the convenience of
the passengers whom the Saint-Laurent Company, though its boats were
built for freight, occasionally accepted during its summer runs. I was
very well satisfied and inquired the terms.

"If it were not for the children there should be no terms!" exclaimed
the captain. "But it is hard, _monsieur_, with prices rising and the
hungry mouths always open, like little birds."

He was overjoyed at the sight of the fifty dollars which I tendered
him. However, my generosity was not wholly disingenuous. I felt that
it would be wise to make one stanch friend in that unfriendly city; and
money does bind, though friendship exist already.

"By the way," I said, "do you know a priest named Pere Antoine?"

"An old man? A strong old man? Why, assuredly, _monsieur_," answered
the captain. "Everybody knows him. He has the parish of the Riviere
d'Or district, and th