"I made haste to leave my companions at the first Acadian settlement, where I knew they would be nursed back to health. I was eager to return to Quebec, that I might be the first to inform General Murray of our shipwreck. I need not detail to you the incidents of the journey. Suffice to say that with the greatest peril I crossed from Cape Breton to the main-land in a birch canoe, through the sweeping ice cakes; and that I have covered now about five hundred leagues on my snow-shoes. I have had to change my guides very frequently, for after eight days' marching with me, Indian and Acadian alike find themselves utterly used up." After this story, the family passed the greater part of the night in bewailing the fate of their friends and kinsfolk, the victims of a barbarous decree. M. de Saint-Luc allowed himself but a few hours rest, so eager was he to present himself before Murray at Quebec as a living protest against the vindictive cruelty which had sent to their death so many brave soldiers, so many unoffending women and little ones. It had been thought that Murray's unreasoning bitterness was due to the fact that he could not forget his defeat of the previous year. "Do you know, D'Haberville," said M. de Saint-Luc at breakfast, "who was the friend so strong with Murray as to obtain you your two years' respite? Do you know to whom you owe to-day the life which you would probably have lost in our shipwreck?" "No," said Captain D'Haberville. "I have no idea what friend we can have so powerful. But whoever he is, never shall I forget the debt of gratitude I owe him." "Well, my friend, it is the young Scotchman Archibald de Lochiel to whom you owe this eternal gratitude." "I have commanded," almost shouted Captain D'Haberville, "that the name of this viper, whom I warmed in my bosom, should never be pronounced in my presence." And the captain's great black eyes shot fire. "I dare flatter myself," said M. de Saint-Luc, "that this command hardly extends to me. I am your friend from childhood, your brother in arms, and I know all the obligations which bind us mutually. I know that you will not say to me, as you said to your sister, the superior, when she sought to plead the cause of this innocent young man: 'Enough, my sister. You are a holy woman, bound to forgive your enemies, even those who have been guilty of the blackest ingratitude against you. But as for me, you know that I never forgive an injury. That is my nature. If it be a sin, God has not given me strength to conquer it. Enough, my sister; and never again pronounce his name in my presence, or all intercourse between us shall cease.' No, my dear friend," continued Saint-Luc, "you will not make me this answer; and you will hear what I have to say."