“'Un fou fait toujours commencement,' madame, and I know not how to begin. But the English began with M. de Sarennes, and they found him so little to their taste that they have ended by burning the manor at Beaulieu level with the ground, and not a barn nor out-building is left on the domaine.”
“If their sons could give such cause for reprisal, there is not a woman in Canada who would not be proud to suffer a like revenge,” responded the old lady, with unfaltering voice.
“Do not fear, madame, our day will come; and when it comes we will all have our scores to wipe out. I know that I have mine!”
“Surely they have not stooped to burn your cottage?”
“No; it is safe; and so is my Amelia. My quarrel is on my own account. They tricked me on board their fleet by flying our colours, and carried me here.”
“Do not dare to stand here and tell me that you piloted them!” cried the old lady, with the utmost scorn.
“No, madame, I did not.”
“Then you may go on,” she said, sternly.
“I did not; but it makes little difference, madame.”
“It makes every difference whether we are traitors or not! Go on.”