Time! Yes, time was all that Gabriel needed for the escape of those whom he loved, happen what might to himself. Yet on his own safety theirs in part depended, he thought. How should the riddle be solved? The peace and well-being of those two once secured, he would spread his untried wings and do more than merely dream of a new life beyond the bars of the narrow cage in which his life had hitherto been passed. He longed to lead a man’s life,—worthy of Margot, worthy of his dead father,—not that of a dull steer hitched to a plow! He had not told Cornwallis that among the Micmacs incited to this deed of treachery there were in all probability some of his own countrymen disguised as Indians. It was the policy of Le Loutre to induce by threats or bribes the more or less reluctant Acadians to perform such services. It was easy for the priest to protest in case of the capture of the Acadians that it was not the French who had broken the peace, but the inhabitants themselves, of their own free will. The Acadians were useful for the encouragement of the Indians; therefore were they used. Gabriel reasoned that not until the presence of the Acadians was discovered would the time arrive to plead for them. The governor was a man of kind heart as well as of good sense, and the boy would represent to him the simplicity and ignorance of these his country-people, who, although not loving those of alien blood, would assuredly have lived peaceably under their rule, had it not been for their priest’s threats and their terror of eternal damnation. Gabriel knew, but would never add, that the cowardice of weak natures was allied with its almost inevitable comrades, deceit and untruthfulness. Whilst Gabriel waited without, Cornwallis sat in his room, the tallow candles in the silver sconces brought from England shedding their flaring light upon his bowed head. He had dismissed his council and was alone with his secretary. His kind, manly face was clouded with dejection. His term of service was drawing to a close, and despite his efforts, the Acadians were no better off than before. Presently he arose and began pacing the floor. “Poor, unhappy people!” he exclaimed. “Why cannot they understand that France but uses them as in the ancient fable the monkey used the cat? They were contented enough before this priest came to scare their small wits out of them.” “Yet, my lord,” put in the secretary, “I have heard that the Acadians were ever a contentious race, given to petty strife and over fond of the law.” The governor smiled. “And who would deny them those simple joys in their dull lives? Their harmless disputes kept the sluggish blood moving in their veins and serious trouble was rare. Now all is changed. If by their vacillation they drive us to stern courses, sad, alas, will be their fate. We have borne much treachery, but the end is at hand.”