"Oh, forgive me, forgive me, Tom, my love!" she said as she buried her
face on his breast.




CHAPTER XIV

Before he left for the front next morning to join his company and march
to Papineau's headquarters, Nic came to Ferrol, told him, with rage and
disappointment, the story of the highway robbery, and also that he hoped
Ferrol would not worry about the Rebellion, and would remain at the Manor
Casimbault in any case.

"Anyhow," said he, "my mother's half English; so you're not alone. We're
going to make a big fight for it. We've stood it as long as we can. But
we're friends in this, aren't we, Ferrol?"

There was a pause, in which Ferrol sipped his whiskey and milk, and
continued dressing. He set the glass down, and looked towards the open
window, through which came the smell of the ripe orchard and the
fragrance of the pines. He turned to. Lavilette at last and said, as he
fastened his collar:

"Yes, you and I are friends, Nic; but I'm a Britisher, and my people have
been Britishers since Edward the Third's time; and for this same Quebec
two of my great-grand-uncles fought and lost their lives. If I were
sound of wind and limb I'd fight, like them, to keep what they helped to
get. You're in for a rare good beating, and, see, my friend--while I
wouldn't do you any harm personally, I'd crawl on my knees from here to