The charge against you is, that you are both in league with Canadian spies, and enemies of Red River.  One of the said spies is myself!  It appears that you are to be taken to the common jail; and mademoiselle Marie is to be lodged in the house of a Metis hag, who is a depraved instrument of Riel’s will.  Therefore, I have brought hither an escort sufficient to accomplish your safe retreat to some refuge beyond the American frontier.  Paul tells me that you had proposed going to your brother’s.  I do not consider this a safe plan.  Your malignant persecutor will very speedily learn from your neighbours all information respecting the existence of relatives, and where they reside.  You would be no safer from the vengeance of this monster in adjacent, thinly settled American territory, than you would be in Red River.  Will you therefore come with me to my uncle’s in a town not far beyond the line?—­only too happy will he be to serve you in your need.”  The proposal was very gladly accepted.  Tears stood in old Jean’s eyes; and I doubt not that they came there when he began to reflect that, but for Marie, he should now have been acting in league with his miscreant persecutor against this noble, generous-hearted young fellow.

Within an hour, most of the little valuables in the dear old homestead, which neither Jean nor Marie ever again expected to see, were made up into small packs, each one to be carried by one of the escorts.  With a deep sigh Marie looked at the home of her happy youth, drowsing in the deep shadow of the oaks, and then mounted her horse.  All that night she rode by her lover’s side, and stole many a glance of admiring pride at his handsome, manly figure.  When they were a couple of hours out, a dusky yellow appeared in the south-east, and then the bright, greenish-yellow rim of the Autumn moon appeared, and began to flood the illimitable prairie with a thick, wizard light.

“So this miscreant has been hunting you, Marie?” said the young man, for both had unconsciously dropped in rear.  “I did not like his glances this morning, and had resolved to keep my eyes upon him.  I suppose, ma petite, if I had the right to keep you from the fans of water-mills, that I also hold the right of endeavouring to preserve you from a man whose arms would be worse than the rending wheel?” She said nothing, but there was gratitude enough in her eye to reward for the most daring risk that man ever run.

“You do not love this sooty persecutor, do you, ma chere?”—­and then, seeing that such a question pained and confused her, he said, “Hush now, ma petite fille; I shall not tease you any more.”  The confusion passed away, and her little olive face brightened, as does the moon when the cloud drifts off its disc.

“I am very glad.  O, if you only knew how I shudder at the sound of his name!”

“There now, let us forget about him, I can protect you from him; can I not?” and he reined his horse closer to hers, and leaned tenderly over towards the girl.  She said nothing, for she was very much confused.  But the confusion was less embarrassment than a bewildered feeling of delight.  But for the dull thud, thud of the hoofs upon the sod, her escort might plainly enough have heard the riotous beating of the little maiden’s heart.