he was a dying man he saw in him no menace to the cause. Besides, was
not Ferrol practically dependent upon their hospitality? If he had
guessed that his friend knew accurately of his movements since the night
he had seen Vanne Castine hand him his commission from Papineau, he would
have felt less secure: for, after all, love--or prejudice--of country is
a principle in the minds of most men deeper than any other. When all
other morals go, this latent tendency to stand by the blood of his clan
is the last moral in man that bears the test without treason. If he had
known that Ferrol had written to the Commandant at Quebec, telling him of
the imminence of the Rebellion, and the secret recruiting and drilling
going on in the parishes, his popular comrade might have paid a high
price for his disclosure.

That morning at sunrise, Christine, saying she was going upon a visit to
the next parish, started away upon her mission to the English province.
Ferrol had urged her to let him go, but she had refused. He had not yet
fully recovered from his adventure with the bear, she said. Then he said
they might go together; but she insisted that she must make the way
clear, and have everything ready. They might go and find the minister
away, and then--voila, what a chance for cancan! So she went alone.

From his window he watched her depart; and as she drove away in the fresh
morning he fell to thinking what it might seem like if he had to look
forward to ten, twenty, or forty years with just such a woman as his
wife. Now she was at her best (he did not deceive himself), but in
ten years or less the effects of her early life would show in many ways.
She had once loved Vanne Castine! and now vanity and cowardice, or
unscrupulousness, made her lie about it. He would have her at her best
--a young, vigorous radiant nature--for his short life, and then, good-
bye, my lover, good-bye! Selfish? Of course. But she would rather--