"He hath once found a woman there who could hold it," said Marie,
checking a laugh.

La Tour moved his palm over her cheek. Within his mind the province of
Acadia lay spread from Penobscot River to the Island of Sable, and from
the southern tip of the peninsula now called Nova Scotia nearly to the
mouth of the St. Lawrence. This domain had been parceled in grants: the
north to Nicholas Denys; the centre and west to D'Aulnay de Charnisay;
and the south, with posts on the western coast, to Charles de la Tour.
Being Protestant in faith, La Tour had no influence at the court of
Louis XIII. His grant had been confirmed to him from his father. He had
held it against treason to France; and his loyal service, at least, was
regarded until D'Aulnay de Charnisay became his enemy. Even in that year
of grace 1645, before Acadia was diked by home-making Norman peasants or
watered by their parting tears, contending forces had begun to trample
it. Two feudal barons fought each other on the soil of the New World.

"All things failing me"--La Tour held out his wrists, and looked at them
with a sharp smile.

"Let D'Aulnay shake a warrant, monsieur. He must needs have you before
he can carry you in chains to France."

She seized La Tour's hands, with a swift impulse of atoning to them for
the thought of such indignity, and kissed his wrists. He set his teeth
on a trembling lip.

"I should be a worthless, aimless vagrant without you, Marie. You are
young, and I give you fatigue and heart-sickening peril instead of