"O world! thy slippery turns! Friends, now fast sworn in love
inseparable, shall within this hour break out to bitterest enmity."

Coriolanus, Act iv., Scene iv.


It was two months later, a chilly October afternoon.

The glory of the maple and the sumach had departed, and a dingy russet
brown had succeeded the more brilliant tints of early autumn. The tide
was high, and the waves dashed angrily against the long pier at Rimouski.

On this pier were gathered six persons, awaiting the arrival from Quebec
of the outward-bound steamer. They were Madame McAllister and her son
Noël, Marie Gourdon, Pierre, her father, Jean, her brother, and M.
Bois-le-Duc. What was the matter with M. le curé this afternoon? He
looked anxious and care-worn, and scarcely spoke to anyone. Marie, on
the contrary, was very bright, and tried to keep up Madame McAllister's
spirits, which were at the lowest ebb.

On the whole, there was not much talking done, for a cloud seemed to hang
over the whole party.

Presently, some miles out on the gulf, at first like a tiny black speck,
appeared the steamer. Nearer and nearer it came, growing larger and
larger as it approached. The dark waters heaved up in huge waves as her
bow pierced their depths. The foam dashed high, as if in angry protest at
the intruder. And Madame McAllister, glancing at the ship, said in her
quaint, pathetic way: "Ah! Noël, my son, here is the ship like some huge