"Virginia!" cried the young man.
"I am sending her to Quebec. I had not intended doing so until July, but the matters from Rupert's House make it imperative now."
"Yes."
"You consent? You—"
"Young man," said Galen Albret, not unkindly, "I give my daughter in your charge; that is all. You must take her to Sacré Cœur. And you must be patient. Next year I shall resign, for I am getting old, and then we shall see. That is all I can tell you now."
He arose abruptly.
"Come," said he, "they are waiting."
They threw wide the door and stepped out into the open. A breeze from the north brought a draught of air like cold water in its refreshment. The waters of the North sparkled and tossed in the silvery sun. Ned Trent threw his arms wide in the physical delight of a new freedom.
But his companion was already descending the steps. He followed across the square grass plot to the two bronze guns. A noise of peoples came down the breeze. In a moment he saw them—the varied multitude of the Post—gathered to speed the brigade on its distant journey.