both, Hulm, you understand!"

"Dear mistress, I understand." But the poor soul made a gesture of
despair.

"It is even as I say. We will both come back," was the quiet reply.
"Something as truthful as God Himself tells me so. Take care of my dear
father--I know you will; keep from him the bad news, and comfort him."

Then with an affectionate farewell she went to her room, knelt down and
prayed. When she rose she said to herself: "I am thankful now that I
have no child."

In ten minutes a little company of people, led by Aaron Hulm, started
away from Boston, making for a block-house fifteen miles distant, where
they were to sleep.

The journey was perilous, and more than once it seemed as if they could
not reach Quebec alive, but no member of the party was more cheerful than
Jessica. Her bravery and spirit never faltered before the others, though
sometimes at night, when lying awake, she had a wild wish to cry out or
to end her troubles in the fast-flowing Richelieu. But this was only at
night. In the daytime action eased the strain, and at last she was
rewarded by seeing from the point of Levis, the citadel of Quebec.

They were questioned and kept in check for a time, but at length Aaron
and herself were let cross the river. It was her first sight of Quebec,
and its massive, impregnable form struck a chill to her heart: it
suggested great sternness behind it. They were passed on unmolested
towards the Chateau St. Louis. The anxious wife wished to see Count