The National tribune., 1902-11-13
CHAPTER Xxx.
THE cAPTIvE's sToRx-A MYSTERIOUS
CtET

Ten DAYS of this life at tile Inn wore
hediously away, bringing to Mary Shepie!
40 hope. Her tasks were not excessive
but she knew constantly that feeling oi
being overlooked in whatever move she
made. While granted; certain privileges
she was in fact prisoner, and was likely
to remain so, until she should became sc
far resigned to her fate as to show no de,
sire to escape. Could she ever so far
forget the bitter past as to accept this as
ineyitable?
Perplexed by such thoughts as these
and unable to sleep, she rose one morning
to leave the inn quietly, hoping to find a
few minutes of communion with the erea-
lures of the open air, which at least were
tastiug the sweets of liberty. She knew
it would not do for her to go far, but she
ventIlred to seek the little grove of naples
standing in the yard of the hostelry, which
through the warmer season had been a
favorite retreat for the young people, who
could find here protection from the heat
of the sun, as well it might be a quiet
nook where the idle gossip of the day,
such as reached this isolated place, might
be discussed, or some coquettlsh maid
might play havoc, with the affections of a
rustic swain.
"A few frosty nights had ushered in the
Summer of st. Martin, y as the habitans
styled that period of Autumn designated
by the inhabitants of New England as the
Indian Summer If IFS reign was des-
tined to be brief it was likely to be as
glorious as it was short, as if nature was
improving her last opportunity to rejoice
in beauty and happiness. The Canadian
forests spreading their frost-painted foliage
over hillside and valley looked not unlike
a mighty bird of paradise displaying its
bright and dazzling plumage. A morning
mist, common at this season, hung over
the valley, half concealing, half reveal
ing the beauty it attempted to vail, while
showing with its delicate tracery the
course of the majestic river of the north
as far as the eye could see. The rising
sun was tinging with its gold and pink the
rustic garb of the hills. and lifting lightly
here and there like an Ephesian Diana at
her bath, the drapery at their feet.
Above this misty surface, pierced now
and then by the tall mast of one of tile
King ships, rose the caStellated walls of
that stronghold of New France, Quebec,
torn aside the gray vail of morning, and
stood proudly, defantly outlined in the
clear northern atmosphere. Seen in the
morning light. or any other light for that
matter, the extended line of Notifications
presented a striking picture, the watch
fires that had been kept burning during
the night casting feeble beams against the
sunlight of the newborn day. The in
habitants were already astir, and from a
wide circle about the city lines of men and
women, singly, or IN pairs, came throng-
ing toward the guarded gates, as if drawn
thither by natural magnet. At one side,
at this early hour, workmeE We're repair
ing the city walls, for rumors had recently
reached the authorities that the British
xrara vain in armS1 and fha in In b;f N
of this fortified town. always lived up to
the common expression, THE key of
France in America hangs inside the walls
of Quebec" The truth of this saying was
most forcibly proven when the gallant
Wolfe and his intrepid followers, a few
years later, scaled the rocky ramparts OF
the fortified town and seized the strong
box holding the magical talisman.
Mary, however, saw little of this dis
taDt view, or even of the enchantment of
the pretty picture hanging nearer her, the
picturesque Norman-like homesteads en-
powered in apple orchards, where the care
free people had caught the wine-like spirit
of the morning. and flung wide open the
easements to drink in the balmy air of
the all too feeting sunshine of the season.
She was standing by one of the trees, with
hands clasped and eyes upturned in silent
supplication to Him who overruleth the
world, asking for a release from this bond
age which was more CALLING than death,
when low sob, as of seme one in distress,
reached her ears. Not dreaming anyone
else was near at this early hour, she was
surprised, upon turning around, to discover
slight, girlish figure dung upon one of
the rude benches, the face of the unknown
person buried in her white hands.
Naturally her own affliction gave her
an uncommon interest in another who was
apparently in greater distress, and she
ct. oricktv tn har ci1a aSEipu for
the cause of her sorrow. Showing by her
appearance that she had not dreamed of
another SO near By, the stranger lifted a
tear-wet, but beautiful, countenance, and
as soon as she could speak for the grief
choking her, murmured:
"Your are very kind, but you cannot
help me. Nay, stand back, lest my pres
ence brings you harm. Do not tell them
was weeping. See, my eyes aare as clear
as-yon have been weeping, too. You are
the maid who came to Jean La Farge's
little over week ago. You are an Eng
1ish captive"
81 am" replied Mary. "And you are
another?"
tWho told you thati" she asked, rising
to her feet, when Mary had her first full
view of her. She did not appear to be
over 1G, and she was dressed in the de.
mure garb worn by the nuns of the church
across the way. She had spoken English
with 4 marked French accent, and now
our heroine was at loss whether to know
If she was of one race or the other.
my name is Marie st. AlOise," con
tinued the other. 80 you see you were
mistaken. ! have weakness for crying
so you must not think of my foolish ac
tions again. Good morning." and she
started to leave the grove, but something
prompted her to stop, and looking bach
she asked:
1sDid Won know the Enplish canf;vo yyhr
ran away last evening"
Thinking in a moment Of Mrs. Craig
Mary sprang forward, and catching upoI
her hand. cried:
"Giye me her name? / have a frient
here"
'T am sorry, but / did not learn hel
name. / only heard of her attempted es
cape by accident. But she cannot remain
long away. They have sent the warrior,
of Merru-Maqua after her. The Chief i,
very cunning ON the trail, and it is quit,
likely he has already brought her back
] pity her il her master happens to be
cross-grained Gascon."
"You know Merru-Maqua? asked
Mary, new train of thoughts awakened
by the mention of the name of the youn,
Chief.
''As brave Indian, who is noted fo
his cunning on the trail of the English.
is said that he is partly of white blood
his mother having been an English cap
tive, who married an Indian and live,
with them at Sagarac."
''Does ht come here often?"
''Not as often as he used to. I think
But have been here only a short time
SO / may be wrong. ! used to live il