"Ah, Marguerite, what a shame Charles must tack on that odious 'madame,' every time he addresses you!" exclaimed Angelique, merrily. "Had I my way, I'd banish the 'madame,' as I would banish every one who has a claim on you, and keep you all for our very own. What nonsense! to have other people in the world when we want you so much! Stay with us! I'll marry you myself; I'm sure I'm worth all the men in the world put together!" "Be sensible, my daughter! be sensible," interrupted Mme. de Sarennes, in her unruffled voice. "I cannot think how you find such nonsense amusing." "Now, maman, be fair! Do you know any man in the whole world, except Charles, you like better than me? There! There! I told you! And my mother has the very best taste in the world--eh, 'Mademoiselle' Marguerite?" And the madcap jumped up, and running over to her mother, embraced her in spite of her remonstrances. In the midst of this turmoil a soft knock was heard, and we all sprang to our feet. "Come in! Come in!" called Angelique, running to the door; but it opened before she could reach it, and there, in the bright light, stood an Indian holding his snow-shoes in his hand. As soon as I saw him I could not repress a cry of terror, for he was the very chief from whom le pere Jean had rescued me. "Do not be alarmed, Marguerite. He is Luntook, my son's man. He always brings word of my son's return." The Indian explained to Angelique, in his broken French, that his master had but sent him to announce his coming, and paid not the slightest attention either to Lucy or myself. As soon as he had answered Angelique's eager questionings, he took himself off again, and we began our preparations. "He will be here in an hour!" sang Angelique, as she danced about the room like a mad thing. Fresh wood was piled on the fire; the table was set with the best linen and silver, and loaded with every delicacy we had prepared; candles were placed in each window, of which the heavy wooden shutters were thrown back, and soon the whole house was a blaze of light. Into all this entered the long-expected guest, who, after tenderly embracing his mother, was caught in a whirl of kisses and questionings showered on him by Angelique. Suddenly she released him, crying: "But stop, Charles! you make me forget myself. Here is Mme. de St. Just, for whose sake, most of all, we have been waiting for you." While I acknowledged his salutation, Angelique rattled on: "She has waited for you all this time to take her to Louisbourg, she and her waiting-woman. Where is Lucie? Oh, she has gone--frightened by the Indian, no doubt. She--I mean Marguerite--is so glad you have come. When do you go back?" "Not to-night, at all events, ma belle. I'm sure even madame would not ask that. In any case not until I've tasted some of these good things. We can boast no such table at Mire."