Dumais was carried in all haste to the manor house, where everything that the most loving care could suggest was done for him. At the end of a half-hour some drops of wholesome moisture gathered upon his brow, and a little later he reopened haggard eyes. After staring wildly around the room for a time, he at length fixed his regard upon the old priest. The latter placed his ear to Dumais's lips, and the first words he gathered were: "My wife! My children! Mr. Archie!" "Be at ease, my dear Dumais," said the old man. "Your wife has recovered from her swoon; but, as she believes you to be dead, I must be careful how I tell her of your deliverance, lest I kill her with joy. As soon as prudent I will bring her to you. Meanwhile, here is Mr. de Lochiel, to whom, through God, you owe your life." At the sight of his deliverer, whom he had not yet recognized among the attendants who crowded about him, a change came over the sick man. He embraced Archie, he pressed his lips to his cheek, and a flood of tears broke from his eyes. "How can I ever repay you," said he, "for all you have done for me, for my poor wife, and for my children?" "By getting well again as soon as possible," answered Lochiel gayly. "The seigneur has sent a messenger post-haste to Quebec to fetch the most skillful surgeon, and another to place relays of horses along the whole route, so that by midday to-morrow, at the latest, your leg will be so well set that within two months you will be able again to carry the musket against your old enemies the Iroquois." When the old priest entered the room whither they had taken his adopted daughter, the latter was sitting up in bed, holding her youngest child in her arms while the other slept at her feet. Pale as death, cold, and unresponsive to all that was said by Madame de Beaumont and the other women, she kept repeating incessantly: "My husband! my poor husband! I shall not even be allowed to kiss the dead body of my husband, the father of my children!" When she saw the old priest she stretched out her arms to him and cried: "Is it you, my father, you who have been so kind to me since childhood? Is it you who can have the heart to come and tell me all is over? No, I know your love too well; you can not bring such a message. Speak, I implore you, you whose lips can utter nothing but good!" "Your husband," said the old man, "will receive Christian burial." "He is dead, then," cried the unhappy woman; and for the first time she burst into tears. This was the reaction which the old priest looked for. "My daughter," said he, "but a moment ago you were praying as a peculiar favor that you might be permitted once more to embrace the body of your husband, and God has heard your petition. Trust in him, for the mighty hand which has plucked your husband out of the abyss is able also to give him back to life." The young woman answered with a fresh storm of sobs.