"Well," he said reflectively, "he's an arrant fool, filled with the old-fashioned notion that men were brave and women true--that love nestled in the heart of every woman, and that it only required the right man and the right place to make it blossom as the rose. He fondly imagined that old England was the Queen of the Seas, and that her homes were the freest, the fairest, the loveliest in the wide world, and he dreamed of wooing and winning a fair damsel with flashing eyes, generous impulses, daring heart, and making her the wife of his bosom, the G.o.ddess of his love, the mistress of his home in the mansion and groves of his forefathers. But he was a daft and silly wight, and didn't know what he was doing."

What answer Maud would have made to the flowing speech it is difficult to tell, but there was a rap at the outer door, a hurrying along the hall and a mingling of voices that riveted her attention.

"An officer wants to see you, Miss Maud," said the maid.

"Show him in, Catharine," was her astonished answer, for the hour was already late.

"Dr. Beaumont!" she exclaimed, with flushed face, as she quickly rose to meet him.

"Maud Maxwell," was his only answer, as he grasped her hand in both of his, and looked down into the face that was ever near him, and of which he had dreamed so often.

In another moment she remembered that they were not alone.

"Major Morris--Dr. Beaumont"; and the two men clasped hands. Morris'

expression was one of honest but pained surprise; Beaumont's, one of pleasure that needed no questioning. Maud's eyes told him that he was welcome. That was enough.

The Doctor's old regimentals had stood long and hard service, while his face was bronzed with travel and his hair unkempt. Still Maud thought--as he stood in careless att.i.tude, so different from the dapper young man of long ago--that he was handsomer than ever. The contrast with the Major was marked. His clean-cut features, lace coat and silk stockings would have ornamented a drawing-room in London; while anyone could see that Beaumont had been a denizen of the woods.

He might have waited until his tailor had made him new again, but he would not; and with the wild freedom that the west had given, must be taken for himself, or not at all. Standing there, quick as a flash, he had taken a fresh grasp of life and knew his bearings.

The two men met again as old friends.

"I am proud of you, Morris," said the Doctor. "Slow as news travels in the west, word came at last, and your name was in everybody's mouth."

"Thank you," said the Major, forcing a smile. "But it's an old story now. When did you arrive?"

"Less than an hour ago. As luck would have it, I reached Quebec just as Sir George Head was leaving for Halifax on the _North King_."

"The ship he came out on with the 100th Regiment," said Maud.

"Yes," said Beaumont, "and he returns home to England on the same vessel."

"It will surprise the people here as much as your arrival," said Maud.

"Did no one know you were coming?"

"No one in Halifax knew until I landed," said the Doctor. "My opportunities were so uncertain that I took advantage of the first one that offered."

"And who is looking after your patients while you are away?" the Major asked.

"Oh, we don't have many! It is a healthy place, and as luck would have it, Dr. Sparling, of Little York, came over the trail with a party of friends, so the officers being willing, I persuaded him to take my place for a couple of months, and here I am."

"How delightful!" said Maud, "and what of the brave, devoted Mrs.

Manning?"

"She's the queen of our colony, loved by everyone; the same forever. And I must not forget, she sent her warmest love to you, and with it this letter."

"I will write her to-morrow, and tell her how well you have delivered her message."

"Well, I'm glad to see you, Beaumont," said the Major, rising and extending his hand. "I shall be at the old quarters for a day or two yet, but it will not be for long, as my company sails with Sir George when he leaves for the east. But come and see me any time, and welcome until then."

Maud accompanied him to the door. He took her hand without a word, and for a moment their eyes met.

"Believe me," she said earnestly, "I did not know it."

"I do believe you," he replied in a low voice, "but what of my faith in women?"

"Surely you have not lost it?" she said, grasping his hand in both of hers, and looking earnestly into his eyes.

"What else can one do? Wounds of the flesh are nothing, but what of the heart--the spirit of the man?"

"I am sorry," she spoke in a still lower tone, and her voice trembled.

"But you will not give way. Your soul is as brave as your heart is, and you will live to love and win a woman more worthy of you far than I could ever be."

Suddenly, he threw his arm around her, pressed a kiss upon her cheek, and was gone.

CHAPTER XLI.

A lump rose in Maud's throat, and a spasm crossed her features as she closed the door. Then she stopped to put a tray in order, making a noise in getting it even. It took her more than a minute to arrange it properly, but when she entered the parlor again her face was as though nothing had happened.

For a moment Beaumont looked at her keenly, but her features told no tale. The human heart is inscrutable, and a true woman never tells everything, even to her dearest. So, hidden in Maud's bosom was a little story of man's devotion, which ever after remained unspoken, and unforgotten, too.

Beaumont bowed over her hand and led her to a seat again.

"For months and months I have longed for this hour," he said. "Even after I started, three weeks of a journey seemed almost like years; but now that I see you, I know that I have not come in vain."

"Please don't talk in that way," said Maud, with a half-frightened look in her face. "Speak of anything, but not of that to-night."

"Mon Dieu! Surely I am not wrong?"

"Oh, something else, just for to-night," she pleaded. "You came so unexpectedly, without a moment's warning," and then she added archly, "You expect too much, sir, you must remember that I am the same Maud Maxwell that I was a year ago."

"Mon ami, forgive me!" he exclaimed, penitently. "I will do whatever you say."

And they talked of many things, but chiefly of Penetang, of the journey to York by trail, then by schooner to the St. Lawrence, down the rapids in a rowboat, guided by Indians, to Montreal; schooner again to Quebec, and then on the _North King_ with Sir George.

"The dear old Colonel! I quite learned to love him through Mrs.

Manning's letters," said Maud.

"He's a brave commander, as well as gallant gentleman," returned the Doctor, "and we missed him terribly after he left. Still, our Fort was established, and taking fifty men away from the new quarters gave the rest more room."

"The winter would be the hardest upon you," said Maud.

"On the whole, we did well though. The frost was keen but we learned how to meet it, and another winter we'll be better prepared."