A hush came over the company and some of the newcomers, who had heard wild tales of Margaret, were secretly afraid. Chandonnais kept on playing, and she watched him with wide, wondering eyes. For a long time the magic of the strings kept her quiet, then she began to mutter to herself uneasily. "Margaret," said Mackenzie, gently, "come here." Chandonnais threw down his violin with a gesture of impatience, beckoned to the singer, and walked away rapidly. The _voyageur_ rose lazily, yawned, and followed him with seeming indifference. Margaret's eyes were shining like the live coals which gleamed in the ashes. She leaned forward and picked up the violin, stroking it and crooning to it as if it were a child. "Margaret," said Mackenzie again, "come here." She went to him with a dog-like, unquestioning obedience, and sat down in front of him. Mrs. Mackenzie was next to her husband, with the baby in her lap, and Mrs. Howard sat on her mother's left. The Lieutenant was talking with Forsyth and the Captain, and at a little distance, on Mackenzie's right, sat Doctor Norton. A sharp cry came from the violin, where Margaret's fingers tightened on the strings. "I see blood," she said,--"much blood, then fire, and afterward peace." No one spoke, and Margaret mumbled to herself, then pounced upon Katherine. She took her by the shoulders and shook her roughly. "You will have your heart's desire," she cried, "at the time of the blood, but sorrow will come with it!" Before any one else had time to move, Doctor Norton caught Margaret and pulled her away. "Oh," she shrieked, shaking her fist in his face, "the Red Death has its fingers at your throat!" Mackenzie picked up the violin, found the bow in the darkness, and began to play--rudely enough, it is true, but in some semblance of rhythm. Margaret quieted almost immediately, and sat down in front of him, rocking back and forth in time with the faltering tune. "Aunt Eleanor," said Forsyth, over her shoulder, "don't you think I'd better take the children home?" "Yes, please, if you will." She put the sleeping baby into his arms, woke Maria Indiana, and directed Ellen and Johnny to go with "Cousin Rob." The procession moved slowly, for the baby was heavy, and the other children were inclined to linger. Mad Margaret had a terrible fascination for them. As they passed a grove of cottonwoods, angry voices came from the thicket, in a mongrel French which had but little in common with that Robert had learned at Yale. "It is abominable," cried Chandonnais. "It is too much!" "So?" laughed the other, mockingly; "and only last year you told me you would pay the price!" "A year's wages for a common crucifix!" "It is no common crucifix. It is of solid silver, and it is from the old mission, where it was blessed by Père Marquette himself." "How do you know?"