“Let him be brought up, Mr. Lawson,” was the reply.  Then advancing into the heart of the group, and addressing the two adventurers, he enquired, in a tone that startled from its singular mildness, “if they were provided with every thing they required.”

An affirmative reply was given, when the governor, taking the taller of the young men aside, conversed with him earnestly, and in a tone of affection strangely blended with despondency.  The interview, however, was short, for Mr. Lawson now made his appearance, conducting an individual who has already been introduced to our readers.  It was the Canadian of the Fleur de lis.  The adjutant placed a small wooden crucifix in the hands of the governor.

“Francois,” said the latter, impressively, “you know the terms on which I have consented to spare your life.  Swear, then, by this cross; that you will be faithful to your trust; that neither treachery nor evasion shall be practised; and that you will, to the utmost of your power, aid in conveying these gentlemen to their destination.  Kneel and swear it.”

“I do swear it!” fervently repeated the aubergiste, kneeling and imprinting his lips with becoming reverence on the symbol of martyrdom.  “I swear to do dat I shall engage, and may de bon Dieu have mercy to my soul as I shall fulfil my oat.”

“Amen,” pronounced the governor, “and may Heaven deal by you even as you deal by us.  Bear in mind, moreover, that as your treachery will be punished, so also shall your fidelity be rewarded.  But the night wears apace, and ye have much to do.”  Then turning to the young officers who were to be his companions,—­“God bless you both; may your enterprise be successful!  I fear,” offering his hand to the younger, “I have spoken harshly to you, but at a moment like the present you will no longer cherish a recollection of the unpleasant past.”

The only answer was a cordial return of his own pressure.  The Canadian in his turn now announced the necessity for instant departure, when the young men, following his example, threw their long guns carelessly over the left shoulder.  Low, rapid, and fervent adieus were uttered on both sides; and although the hands of the separating parties met only in a short and hurried grasp, there was an expression in the touch of each that spoke to their several hearts long after the separation had actually taken place.

“Stay one moment!” exclaimed a voice, as the little party now moved towards the gateway; “ye are both gallantly enough provided without, but have forgotten there is something quite as necessary to sustain the inward man.  Duck shooting, you know, is wet work.  The last lips that were moistened from this,” he proceeded, as the younger of the disguised men threw the strap of the proffered canteen over his shoulder, “were those of poor Ellen Halloway.”