"What?" queried Roderick. "I thought perhaps...." "But it is, Pauline." "You don't mean it?" "It is no other." "Cary Singleton!" Forgetful of everything, in her transport, she applauded with her gloved hands. Roderick took off his cap and saluted. "This is a brave sight, Pauline, and well worth our coming thus far to see." The girl was silent, and when at length she diverted her eyes, it was not to encounter those of her companion. A slight trouble arose within her which might have increased into an embarrassment, had not another incident almost immediately occurred to give distraction. The rider, having finished his gyrations, returned to his friends, who after a brief parley dispersed, leaving him alone with a small group of two or three, among whom appeared to be a lady on horseback. At least, so thought both Roderick and Pauline. They did not mind the circumstance, however, and were on the point of retracing their steps homeward, when they noticed that two riders detached themselves from the rest and took the direction of the plain. It was easy to recognize Cary Singleton, and, in a few moments, as easy to see that he was accompanied by a lady. The twain went along at a gentle walk directly towards the St. Lawrence. The sun was still shining brightly, and as they rode, they were sometimes in light and sometimes in shadow, according as they passed the leafless maples that skirted the path. When they reached the high bank overlooking the river, they stopped for a few moments in conversation, Singleton evidently describing something, as indicated by the movement of his arm along the line of the stream and again in the direction of the town. While they were thus engaged, the couple on the Citadel watched them closely without uttering a word. The reader will readily guess that Pauline watched the man, and Roderick the woman. Of the two, the latter was far more intent in his observation, the former looking on in rather a dreamy way. At length, the officer and the amazon turned their horses' heads on their backward journey. As they did so, they both happened to look directly toward the town. Whatever it was that drew their attention, it was sufficiently interesting to cause them to stop and confer together. Then the lady made a sudden movement as if to advance straight forward, but she was restrained by her attendant, who pointing to the guns on the ramparts, made her understand that she must keep out of range. It was at this point that Hardinge abruptly broke silence. "I thought so," was his brief remark, uttered almost sternly between his teeth. Pauline did not appear to hear him. "I knew I was not mistaken," he continued a little louder. Pauline caught the word and looked up in wonder. "I have a right to remember her." "What do you mean, Roddy?" "It is the very same riding habit?" Pauline was now perfectly astonished. Hardinge's face was aglow. "I would know that form in a thousand." "What form?" "And that carriage."