It was not the first time he had been ushered into vice-regal presence,
but his was an odd position. He was in a strange land, charged with an
embassy which accident had thrust upon him. Then, too, the presence of
the girl had withdrawn him for an instant from the imminence of his duty.
His youth came out of him, and in the pause one could fairly see him turn
into man.

He had not the dark complexion of so many of his race, but was rather
Saxon in face, with rich curling brown hair. Even in that brave time one
might safely have bespoken for him a large career. And even while the
Scotsman in the doorway eyed him with distant deprecation, as he eyed all
Frenchmen, good and bad, ugly or handsome, he put off his hesitation and
entered the governor's chamber. Colonel Nicholls came forward to greet
him, and then suddenly stopped, astonished. Then he wheeled upon the
girl. "Jessica, you madcap!" he said in a low voice.

She was leaning against a tall chair, both hands grasping the back of it,
her chin just level with the top. She had told the governor that Count
Frontenac had sent him a lame old man, and that, enemy or none, he ought
not to be kept waiting, with arm in sling and bandaged head. Seated at
the table near her was a grave member of the governor's council, William
Drayton by name. He lifted a reproving finger at her now, but with a
smile on his kindly face, and "Fie, fie, young lady!" he said, in a
whisper.

Presently the governor mastered his surprise, and seeing that the young
man was of birth and quality, extended his hand cordially enough, and
said: "I am glad to greet you, sir;" and motioned him to a seat. "But,
pray, sit down," he added, "and let us hear the message Count Frontenac
has sent. Meanwhile we would be favoured with your name and rank."