“For our Blessed Lady’s sake try to comfort her,” were du Chesne’s parting words. “She is only a child, sensitive and tender-hearted, and it is I who have brought this sorrow upon her. For my sake be good to her, Diane.” “My daughter!” As he looked upon his youngest son, Jacques Le Ber grasped his ward’s arm. He spoke almost sternly. The strong muscles about his mouth quivered, though the facial lines did not lose their firm expression. A soft golden haze, obscuring the view of the opposite shore, lay upon the river, sweeping on in subdued silvery tints. The Indians manned the large elm-bark canoes, their paddles cleaving the sunshine and dimpling the waters of the river. The savage voices arose in a wild tumult of resounding yells; the soldiers cheered lustily; a sharp wailing cry resounded from the shore. The agony of parting, the strain and stress of the hour at last over, du Chesne stood erect in the bow of his canoe. His handsome young face, eager and animated with the excitement of adventure, bore no trace of grief or care or doubt; in the relief afforded by action all dark forebodings had sunk into the background. As the boats vanished from the tear-dimmed eyes that watched the last gleam of the receding oars, the strains of a stirring chorus resounded across the wave— “_Grand Dieu! sauvez le Roi._ _Grand Dieu! sauvez le Roi,_ _Sauvez le Roi._ _Que toujours glorieux,_ _Louis victorieux,_ _Voit ses enemies,_ _Toujours soumis._” CHAPTER XXIII. _SUSPENSE._ LE BER stood alone in the world, though surrounded by family ties and dependents. His individuality was so marked and striking that he had few close friends, though his commercial interests bound him to many associates. During this period of anxiety old griefs, seared over by time and distance, acquired fresh vitality to sting. Pierre, in his feverish unrest, had betaken himself to the hospital to pray; but it was not so much the fate of the colony, or anxiety for his brother’s welfare, that troubled Le Ber’s eldest son, as consternation concerning his own individual shortcomings. His sister was as remote from her father as though she had already attained that heaven which was the object of her thoughts and prayers. The merchant’s spirit fainted for sore need of human help, human nearness. In this emergency it was the stranger that he had sheltered who clasped his hand, whispering bright words of cheer and encouragement, ever ready to offer sweet and gracious sympathy.