“Monsieur Waldron!” cried Yvonne faintly.

“You here, Mademoiselle de Lamourie!” he exclaimed, with a surprise that his courtesy could not quite conceal.

“This, monsieur,” she said, in a brave confusion, “is my friend, here for a moment because of my foolish desire to see him. I beg you”—

But he interrupted, reluctantly enough:

“It hurts me, mademoiselle, to have to say that your friend is my prisoner. If I were free to please you, he should go free.”

The case was clearly beyond mending, so I would not condescend to evasion.

“I can do nothing but surrender, monsieur,” said I civilly, “under the conclusive arbitrament of your muskets. Here is my sword.” He took it, and I went on:

“I am Captain Paul Grande, of the French army in Canada.”

178His face changed.

“A spy, then!” he said harshly.

“You insult with impunity,” I began. “An unarmed”—

But Yvonne broke in, her eyes flaming:

“How dare you, sir, insult me? That is not to be done with impunity, I think.”

The man looked puzzled. Then his face cleared somewhat.

“I beg your pardon, mademoiselle,” he said slowly, looking from her face to mine. “I begin to understand a little, I think. There is a very sufficient reason why a French officer might appear in an enemy’s country without his uniform—that country being Grand Pré—and yet be no spy!”

“I give you my word of honour,” said I, “that I am no spy, but merely your prisoner. And if brought to trial I will prove what I say.”

“I beg your pardon also—provisionally,” he replied, with a pleasant air. “I am the last to believe a gentleman a spy, and I am confident you will clear yourself of the unavoidable charge. You are a soldier. You must see it to be unavoidable,” he added.

“I do, monsieur,” said I sorrowfully. “I have lain for months, wounded and delirious, in a hiding-place not far off, nursed by a faithful friend. Having just recovered, I came here for a farewell 179to dear friends; and you have arrived inopportunely, monsieur.”

There was the bitterness of final despair beneath the lightness which I assumed.

“Your action seems to me very pardonable, I assure you,” said he. “But I am not the judge. We must go.” And he motioned his men to me.

But Yvonne came close to my side and laid her hand lightly on my arm.

“It is my wish, Monsieur Waldron,” she said, “that Captain Grande should escort me, with your assistance, and that of your guard also, if you will!”

“Why, certainly, mademoiselle, it shall be as you wish,” he said, with a ghost of a smile, which set her blushing wildly. “I have Captain Grande’s............