“The big grinning corporal,” he answered.
“He is shot this morning,” she said, her face darkening, “and, besides, he was—nevare—my hoosban’.”
“He said he was,” replied McGilveray, eagerly.
“He was alway a liar,” she answered.
“He decaved you too, thin?” asked McGilveray, his face growing red.
She did not answer, but all at once a change came over her, the half-mocking smile left her lips, tears suddenly ran down her cheeks, and without a word she turned and hurried into a little alley, and was lost to view, leaving McGilveray amazed and confounded.
It was days before he found her again, and three things only that they said are of any moment here. “We’ll lave the past behind us,” he said-“an’ the pit below for me, if I’m not a good husband t’ ye!”
“You will not drink no more?” she asked, putting a hand on his shoulder.
“Not till the Frenchies take Quebec again,” he answered.