in examining her character, and deciding that, after all, the union of the Indian and Anglo-Saxon races would be favourable to both.  Talking, therefore, in the most friendly humour with each other, they pursued their way through the loose and uneven snow, sometimes stumbling into a deep drift, sometimes crossing a space swept almost bare by the wind.  Mrs. Costello leaned on her old friend’s arm.  Scarcely half the distance was passed when she began to be conscious of a feeling of exhaustion from cold and fatigue, but her determination to go on sustained her; she kept her veil closely over her face that the others might not see her paleness, and exerted all her energies to overcome her fatigue.  At length they approached the shore.  The sky had lightened considerably, and they could see some distance up the river.  Both sky and water were of a leaden dulness; only the effects of the morning storm could be seen in the great waves, tipped with foam, which still rolled sullenly upon the beach.  But there was no sail in sight.  A small canoe, which was labouring to make its way from the island to the American shore, was the only speck upon the broad, swift-flowing stream; and the party, after pausing for a moment to make quite certain that it was so, turned towards the house on the point, where they meant to keep their watch.

They had been seen from within; and as they came to the gate of the small enclosure in front, a little girl opened the door to admit them.  They passed immediately into the room where, on the evening of her flight, Mrs. Costello had found Christian and his companions.  Its aspect was very little changed.  The house and furniture, such as it was, had been sold years ago to its present occupants; Mr. Strafford had rescued such small articles as the fugitive wife’s desk, workbox, and various trifles which had been in her possession before her marriage, but other things remained just as they had been.  Two children, girls of ten and twelve, were the only occupants of the room, and they cast curious glances at the two ladies who followed the clergyman into their domains.

He spoke to them in Ojibway, asking first for their mother, and then why the younger sister was not at school?

“It was so stormy this morning,” the elder answered.  “She is going this afternoon.”

“It is quite time she was gone, then.  These ladies will stay with you, Sunflower, while I go in to see your mother.  Tell her I am here.”

“Sunflower”—­always thus called instead of by her baptismal name of Julia—­obeyed; and while she was away, Mr. Strafford placed a chair for Mrs. Costello in front of a window which commanded the long reach of the river towards Cacouna.  She sat down, and commenced her watch, which a glance at the American clock hanging on the wall told her would not be a very long one.