The spectator., 1920-02-10

to improve. Thcvc was every ilkeiS hood now of being able to carry on through the winter. Brousseau had showed no signs of further interfer- ence with his men, and there was even the possibility of getting out another small load.
 Hilary had sent Nanette home to St. Joseph. She had promised to write to him, but, as he had expected, he had not heard from her. Baptiste had thrown up his position with Dupont and gone into the Ste. Marie limits to trap. Marie Dupont avoided Hilary; he had not seen her since the day Of their adventure.
 As for Dupont, whatever he knew, he showed no signs. And things seemed to settle into equilibrium, though Hill ary was sure that denouement was to follow. He could only wait pa tiently for that. No action could come from him. He could not violate his pledge to Marie in order to secure him. self with Madeleine.
 Then came the news which stunned Hilary out of his mental apathy. Mad eleine was to marry Brousseau. It was to be in three weeks-at Christ mas, and the banns had been read in church that Sunday morning for the first time.
 What had happened was this: The Seigneur had not given his daughter any sign of remembrance of the events that had transpired immediately be- fore his stroke, though he was in other respects normal, save for the paraly- sis of the left side. But as the weeks went by he grew more and more nervous and depressed, until one night he blurted out:
 "Where will you take me after the estate changes hands? l cannot re- main in St. Boniface, nor can I remain with you and the American. am too old to go anywhere but to the grave
 So he had remembered all the time. Madeleine put her arms about his neck. "I am not going to marry Mon- sieur Askew," she answered.
 Then. without warning, the old Seigneur fell to crying and laughing, as if a tremendous load of care had been lifted from his shoulders. The land, which had meant so much to him all his life, now seemed to be every thing. and he interpreted Madeleine's answer to indicate her willingness to marry Brousseau.
 "Well, why not?" she thought with intense bitterness. as she listened. Have I any other duty now. save to my father?"
 She never doubted her judgment of Hilary. The story had been dnned into her ears by Brousseau since Hil. ary's first visit to Ste. Marie. She had heard 1t from tradesmen's wives, the postmistress, until their attachment was known; then had come silence and furtiveness And she had scorned to think of its possibility until that night.
 And she had given him his chance and he had said nothing
 She accepted the situation and sat down and penned short. formal let ter to BrouSseau.
 He came the next day, driving fu-
 
 riously up to the Chateau. He thrust Robtaille out of his way and pushed into the living room, where lie found Madeleine. deathly white, seated alone. waiting for him. He opened his arms to embrace her.
 "Sit down. EdOuard," she said with chilling apathy. Il am going to talk frankly to you. You wish to marry mef"
 II want you for my wife" said Brousseau. You know that You know l don't think anything of that affair"--Madeleine winced at the word, but he did not notice it-"wth Mon- sieur Askew. The mans scoundrel, a thief. and libertine-"
 'I do not wish to hear that, mon- sieur," said Madeleine peremptorily.
 'Diable. that's natural enough And so that's forgotten" Brousseau could