BETRAYED.

They had met again. Were together, never more to part unless parted by one thing, Death! Death that was imminent at any moment, that might overtake them that very night, or to-morrow, or the next day; for Cavalier was on his way down to the plains to make those reprisals of which Montbonneux had spoken. God only knew what might be the end of all.

She, riding on the captured little mule and enveloped in costly furs--as usual, part of a spoil of a successful foray made by the Camisards on a more or less unprotected manoir--had seen him as the large body of Cavalier's followers had rounded a point in the mountain pass, and, springing from the animal's back, had thrown herself into his outstretched arms, unheeding those who came behind her and the Cévenole chief, thinking of naught at the moment but that he was safe and with her again, deeming all else insignificant beside that one supreme mercy vouchsafed by God. For she knew in what awful danger he had stood not many hours before; knew that, not more for the purpose of exacting vengeance than for that of rescuing him, was this descent from the mountains being made. And now he was safe, by her side again.

He drew her apart from where Cavalier stood with all his followers behind him; drew her apart and whispered words of love and thankfulness at seeing her once more. Then suddenly, observing on the fair young face and in the clear, pure eyes a look that he had never seen before, he murmured:

"What--what is it, Urbaine, my sweet?"

But she would not answer him, only contenting herself with saying, "Not now, not now," while even as she did so he saw beneath the light of the full moon that her eyes were full of tears. Felt, too, the warm hand which he held quiver in his grasp.

And as he noticed those symptoms of unhappiness he wondered if she had learned while among these Camisards that secret which one at least of them knew--that secret which, to prevent her from ever learning, had caused Baville to bid him fly with her out of France, away, anywhere, so that she might never know it. Never know that her father's death lay at his door.

"Come," said Cavalier, approaching them and speaking very quietly, after having carried on a hurried conversation for some moments with Montbonneux and the other two men, "come, we must move forward. Thank God, you are free, out of the tiger's claws; for your sake and ours as well, if what my followers report of the news you bring is true. Is it?" and he looked piercingly at the other in the moonbeam's light.

"It is true if they have told you that a large force is making its way toward these mountains. They must have left N?mes some time before me, since I followed them a considerable distance before coming up with their rear, and I have outstripped them by perhaps two hours, though not longer, I think."

Then he told Cavalier that Baville had himself released him.

"Baville released you! Because of my threat?"

"Because of----" yet since Urbaine was by his side he paused and told no more, or only with a look which Cavalier understood sufficiently well, for he also now knew of the Intendant's part in the death of Urbain Ducaire, understood that his love for Urbaine had grown out of his remorse.

"Come," he said shortly, after meditating for a moment with his eyes fixed on the ground, "come, we must go forward now. Best meet this force and check it, or part of it. How many strong are they, do you suppose?"

"At least a thousand. Perhaps more. Composed of dragoons, chevaux-légers, and Miquelets. Can you cope with those?"

"If we are united, yes. But Roland is away, ahead, with half our men; yet, stay. We have to meet at the Tour de Bellot. If we can join them before these soldiers reach that, then we can win. If not, if they catch Roland's force alone, then God help Roland!"

As he spoke, from afar off there came a sound that none in all the vast band which had descended from the mountains could have mistaken, unless it were Urbaine alone. A sound deep, muffled, roaring. That of cannons firing. Heard first down in the valley, then reverberating high up amid the clouds that capped the summits of the cold mountain tops.

"You hear?" he said. "You hear? We must on at once. On, on! What will you do with the lady? She is yours now. You see, I remembered my promise. I was bringing her to you, knowing full well that either by threats or siege we would have you out of the hands of Baville. Yet I thought not you could have been free to-night, so soon."

"My place is by her side forever now. Where she is, there am I."

"Be it so. Will you go back with her? Yet I know not, if they gain the passes, the caverns will be surrounded and--and--if they succeed we shall not be there to help or succour. God, he knows what is best!"

"Can they do that, gain the summits?"

"Scarce can I say. Yet now at last I fear. The prophets see visions, speak of rebuffs at last. The extasées, the woman seers, the female children--all foretell disaster. Even I, who have ere now believed that I could read the future, am shaken, not in my courage, but my hopes."

His last words were lost, or almost lost, in the dead muffled roar that rose once more from far down in the valley, and as the sound was heard again Cavalier started.

"We must not tarry, even for her. Decide, therefore, and decide quickly," while, as he spoke, he gave orders briefly to all who surrounded them and commanded that they should be transmitted along the line of Camisards which stretched far behind and up to where the great plateau was.

"I have decided," Martin answered. "That firing is some distance off, some five or six miles at least. At the foot of the mountains there are many side-paths leading east and west. I can convey her by one of those to some haven of shelter, out of harm. Let us accompany you to the valley; then, Cavalier, we part."

"Do as you will," the other answered. "I gave you my word that all should be as you desired when you returned from Cette. I keep it to the last. We part to-night forever. Remember me in years to come as one who was an honourable man."

Then, as though he wished no more said, he gave another order for the band under his command to set forth again upon its descent, and, quitting Martin, went forward and placed himself at its head.

And now Martin took his place by the side of her he loved, walking by the little mule, holding her hand in his beneath the richly-furred cloak. Also he told her what was decided on as best for her safety. Once, too, he asked, after he had informed her of the arranged plan:

"You do not fear? Are content?"

"Content! To be with you!"

And the glance that rested on him, and plainly to be seen beneath the ray of the moon, told ............