“Alas!  Clara, poor Baynton is no more.  Even at the moment when he confided the unconscious burden, preserved at the peril of his own life, to the arms of Sir Everard here, he fell beneath the tomahawk of a pursuing savage.  Poor, noble, generous Baynton,” he continued, mournfully; “to him, indeed, Clara, are you indebted for your life; yet was it purchased at the price of his own.”

Again the pained and affectionate girl wept bitterly, and her brother proceeded:—­

“The strange object you saw on the lake, my love, was nothing more than a canoe disguised with leafy boughs, in which Sir Everard Valletort and myself, under the guidance of old Francois of the Fleur de lis, whom you must recollect, have made the dangerous passage of the Sinclair in the garb of duck hunters,—­which latter we had only discarded on reaching the schooner, in order to assume another we conceived better suited to our purpose.  Alas!” and he struck his hand violently against his brow, “had we made directly for the shore without touching the vessel at all, there might have been time to save those we came to apprise of their danger.  Do you not think there was, Valletort?”

“Most assuredly not,” returned his companion, anxious to remove the impression of self-blame that existed in the mind of Captain de Haldimar.  “From the moment of our reaching the schooner, which lay immediately in our route, to that when the shout was raised by the savages as they rushed into the fort, there was scarcely an interval of three minutes; and it would have required a longer period to have enabled us even to gain the shore.”

“Thank, thank you for that!” exclaimed the officer, drawing himself up with the air of one who breathes more freely.  “I would not, for the wealth and honours of the united world, that such a cause for self-reproach should linger on my mind.  By Heaven! it would break my heart to think we had been in time to save them, and yet had lost the opportunity through even one moment of neglect.”  Then turning once more to his sister,—­“Now, Clara, that I see you in safety, I have another sacred duty to perform.  I must leave you, but not alone.”

“What mean you, Frederick?” exclaimed his agitated sister, clinging more closely to his embrace.  “Scarce have we met, and you talk of leaving me.  Oh, whither would you go?”

“Surely, my love,” and he spoke half reproachfully, although with tenderness of accent, “my meaning must be obvious.  But what do I say?  You know it not.  Madeline still lives.  We saw her, as we pulled towards the shore, led across the clearing in the direction of Chabouiga.  Hear me, then:  the canoe in which we came is still towing from the vessel’s stern, and in this do I mean to embark, without further loss of time, in search of her who is dearer to me than existence.  I know,” he pursued with emotion, “I have but little hope of rescuing, even if I do succeed in finding her; but at least I shall not have to suffer under the self-reproach of having neglected the only chance that now lies within my reach.  If she be doomed to die, I shall then have nothing left to live for—­except you, Clara,” he concluded, after a pause, pressing the weeping girl to his heart, as he remarked how much she seemed pained by the declaration.