I slipped away through an opening in the curious throng, and hastened across the open parade toward the messroom.  I felt dust-covered and bruised from my rough experiences, and hoped to discover opportunities for a bath.  The building called the mess-room was long, running nearly half the length of the stockade, built like the others of logs, two stories in height, and containing a number of rooms.  The single flight of stairs, opening just within the porch, was exceedingly rude, and built without any protecting rail.  I hesitated a moment when fairly within the entrance, scarce knowing which way to turn in search of what I sought; but as I waited there, a light step sounded upon the bare floor above, and glancing up, with quickened beat of the heart, my eyes caught the soft drapery of a woman as she stepped on the upper stair.

I could scarcely have retreated had I wished to do so, though I realized instantly who it was, and drew back against the wall, so that she came down, singing lightly to herself, without noticing my presence until we were face to face.  It was a picture to touch the heart of any man, and abide forever in the memory.  I saw the sunlight as it streamed through an upper window along the rough log wall and flecked her white dress with ever-changing spots of quivering gold, and, as she drew nearer to my standing-place, played softly amid the masses of her dark-brown hair, giving it a tinge of glory.  How daintily fair she was! how archly sweet looked the clear girlish face under the coquettish sweep of the broad hat! and with what unconscious grace she moved down the rude stairway, one white hand steadying her against the brown logs, the other gathering her draperies so close that I could not be blind to the daintily slippered foot that shyly peeped below the petticoat of ruffled silk.  I may not have loved her then as I learned to do in later days, but my heart throbbed riotously at her presence, and I stood forgetful of all else.

As she turned aside at the foot of the stairs, she saw me, and the color deserted her face, only to return instantly in deeper volume, while her tell-tale eyes hid themselves behind long lashes.

“And are you indeed returned, Master Wayland?” she asked quickly, conquering her first emotion with a proud uplifting of her head.  “You surprised me greatly.  I think I first mistook you for a ghost come back to haunt me for having despatched you on so perilous a quest.  You cannot know how I have been scolded for doing such a thing; yet surely you would have gone, even if I had failed to encourage it.”

“Perhaps so, Mademoiselle,” I answered, hoping I might lead her to speak with greater seriousness; “but it was the hope of the reward that spurred me forward.”

“Ah, of course,” she said deliberately ignoring her own offer, and with a reckless toss of her head, “you sought a fair girl for whose sake you have travelled far.  Pray tell me, Monsieur,—­I am so curious to know,—­do you truly think Josette fairer than I?”