but the heartless Rebel ruffian was insensible to every human impulse.  Bursting into the chamber of the sick man, he raged like a wild bull, stamped upon the floor, and declared that he would have him shot before midnight.  Then telling off a guard he sent them to invest the house.  His rage cooled down after a little, and the murderous threat was not carried into execution.  I have said that the loyalty and obedience of his entire followers were, so far, by no means assured.  Hundreds who sympathized with the uprising, and in the beginning expressed admiration for his courage and daring, began to be shocked at his tyranny, and to hold aloof.  This was the reason, we may be sure, that some of the revengeful threats which he, about this time made, were not carried into effect.  He held long counsel with his military leader, Lepine.

“How does the sentiment of the settlement go now?  Do they disapprove of my severe measures?”

“They do, Monsieur; and I am inclined to think that you will be obliged to show some generosity, even toward your worst enemies, to maintain the confidence and sympathy of your followers.”

“Suppose I release these prisoners?”

“I know of nothing more popular that you could do.”

“But Scott?  He is my deadliest enemy.  It is to give a colour of justification to my attitude towards him that I have incarcerated the rest.”

“Even him, Monsieur, I think it would be advisable now to let him depart with the rest.  I am quite certain that he will before long, moved by his hatred of yourself, commit some act that will justify you in according to him very stern sort of punishment.

“Be it so.  I shall let them all go.  But remember:  you never must allow this man to pass from under your eye.”

Meanwhile poor Marie was far away, sighing all the day for some word from her lover.  She had heard that they had captured him and locked him in a dungeon.  A terrible fever seized her, and she cried out in her delirium to take her to her lover.  For many days after the fire of her illness had cooled, she lay between life and death like some fitful shadow; but when a letter came to her, in the dear writing that she so well knew, announcing that he was once more free, the enfeebled blood began to stir in her veins, and a faint tint of rose began to appear on the wasted cheek.

“I will run over and see my little love during the first breathing time that offers,” he wrote.  “I hope, ma amie, you are not sorrowing at my absence.  No hour passes over me, whether wake or dreaming, that I do not sigh for my darling Marie; but I am consoled with the thought that when the turmoil is ended, when this land of tumult and tyranny has become a region of peace and fruitful industry, I will be able to bring my darling back to her dear old home; and in a little wed her there, and then take her to my arms for ever.”