Only a few scattered lodges had been raised to the eastward of where we were, nor did these show any signs of life.  We crept forward with painful slowness, partially hiding our movements by following a shallow, curving gully, until we had gained the extreme limits of the encampment, where we crawled out into the gloom of the surrounding prairie.  Not until then did either of us venture to stand erect, or advance with any degree of freedom.

Directly ahead of us there was nothing by which I could safely guide our course.  The flat sameness of the plain offered no landmarks, while the night sky was so thickly overcast as to leave no stars visible.  Nor was there light of any kind, save that of the fires in the camp we had just left.  I hesitated to risk the open prairie thus unaided, lest we should wander astray and lose much valuable time; so, although it measurably increased our peril of encountering parties of savages, I turned sharply northward, keeping the bright Indian fires upon our left, and groping forward through the gloom toward where I knew the main branch of the river must lie.  It was neither the time nor place for speech.  I held her hand closely while we moved onward silently, carefully guarding each step lest by mischance it should bring betrayal.  Once, after we had reached the river and were moving eastward again, a party of Indians passed us, coming so silently out of the black void, in their soft moccasins, that I had barely time to hold her motionless before they were fairly upon us.  I counted nine of them, moving rapidly in single file, like so many black ghosts.  We waited with wildly throbbing hearts, listening for fear others might follow in their trail.

We were almost beside the walls of the factory building before either of us was aware of its proximity.  Even then, as I lay prone on the earth and studied its dim outlines, they possessed nothing of familiarity, for the high-pitched roof had fallen in and carried with it the greater portion of the upper walls, leaving a mere shell, shapeless and empty.  I rested there, gazing at it, and wondering how best we might proceed to find our way beneath where the boat was to be moored, when I felt Mademoiselle’s fingers press my arm warningly.  Scarcely a yard away, on a ridge of higher ground, two dim figures came to a sudden pause.

“I perceive naught of the presence of your friends as yet, Monsieur,” spoke a soft voice, “but I will remain until certain of the outcome.”

“Then your decision is unchanged?” asked the other, in deeper accent, full of earnest pleading.  “All is to be over between us from this hour?  And you deliberately choose to devote your life to the redemption of these savages?”

“We have discussed all this at length, Monsieur le Marquis, as we came along, and, as you fully know, my choice is made beyond recall.  I am here to serve you to-night, because it seems to be a duty given unto me by some strange Providence; and I have relied upon your courtesy to make it as little unpleasant as possible.  I pray you, beseech me no more.  The girl I once was lives no longer; the woman I now am has been given a special mission by God, too sacred to be cast aside for aught that earth has to offer her of happiness.  We part in kindness, Monsieur,—­in friendship even; but that which was once between us may never be again.”