She waved her hand in reply to the shout.

The tall soldier went down to meet her, and paused, bareheaded, to make
the salutation of a subaltern to his military superior. She responded
with the same grave courtesy. But as he drew nearer she noticed him
whitening through the dusk.

"All has gone well, Klussman, at Fort St. John, since your lord left?"

"Madame," he said with a stammer, "the storm made us anxious about you."

"Have you seen D'Aulnay?"

"No, madame."

"You look haggard, Klussman."

"If I look haggard, madame, it must come from seeing two women follow
you, when I should see only one."

He threw sharp glances behind her, as he took her hand to lead her up
the steep path. Marie's attendant was carrying the baby, and she lifted
it for him to look at, the hairs on her upper lip moved by a
good-natured smile. Klussman's scowl darkened his mountain-born
fairness.

"I would rather, indeed, be bringing more men to the fort instead of
more women," said his lady, as they mounted the slope. "But this one
might have perished in the stockade where we found her, and your lord
not only misliked her, as you seem to do, but he held her in suspicion.