Her voice ceased with an indrawing of the breath, and she hissed at La Mouche. “Return it then to the fire and thyself with it, thou French log!” she uttered in a screaming whisper in Huron, and hissed at him again as her humble lover dropped the lodge-flap. The candles shone mellowly from the sheltered altar upon kneeling Indians, but La Mouche slunk off into the darkness. IX. THE LADY OF ST. BERNARD. FIVE evenings later a boat was beached on one of the islands above Montreal lying near the south shore of the St. Lawrence. While this island presented rocky points, it had fertile slopes basking in the glow which followed a blue and vaporous April day, and trees in that state of gray greenness which shoots into leaf at the first hot shining. The principal object on the island was a stone house standing inclosed by strong palisades above the ascent from the beach. It appeared to be built against a mass of perpendicular rock that towered over it on the west side. This was, in fact, the strongest seigniorial mansion west of the Richelieu. There was, in addition, a small stone mill for grinding grain, apart from it on the brink of the river. Northward, the St. Lawrence spread towards the horizon in that distension of its waters called Lake St. Louis. Out of the palisade door came a censitaire and his wife, who, having hurried to St. Bernard for protection at an alarm of Indians, staid to guard the seigniory house during Jacques Goffinet’s absence with Dollard. “This is St. Bernard,” said Dollard, leading Claire up the slope. “Sometimes fog-covered, sometimes wind-swept, green as only islands can be, and stone-girdled as the St. Lawrence islands are. A cluster up-river belongs to the seigniory, but this is your fortress.” “And yours,” she added. “It will seem very rude to you.” “After my life of convent luxury, monsieur?” “After the old civilization of France. But I believe this can be made quite comfortable.” “It looks delicious and grim,” said the bride. “Tragic things might happen here if there be a tragic side to life, which I cannot now believe. Yet a few months ago I said there was no happiness!” Dollard turned his uneasy glance from her to the seigniory house. “There is scarcely such another private stronghold in the province.” “Did you build it?” “Not I. Poor Dollard brought little here but his sword. One of my superior officers abandoned it in my favor, and took a less exposed seigniory near the Richelieu. I wish the inside appointments better befitted you. It was a grand château to me until I now compare it with its châtelaine.” “Never mind, monsieur. When you demand my fortune from France, you can make your château as grand as you desire. I hope you will get some good of my fortune, for I never have done so. Seriously, monsieur, if no house were here, and there were only that great rock to shelter us, I should feel myself a queen if you brought me to it, so great is my lot.”