"L'amour me réveille."

Turning to the governor, she asked:

"Who is he?"

"A convict," was the answer. "But what is his name?"

Laughing, the governor answered:

'They have no names.

Each man is given a

number, which is fastened on his cap and breast." She glanced at the one who had so moved her and saw on his cap number thirty-nine.

"Did they never have names?" she asked.

'Yes, Mademoiselle; before they forfeited them, they did. Now, each is given his number, and so long have some gone by their numbers, that they have forgotten their names."

แ

"Governor, why are they so cruelly treated?" They are transgressors of the law, Mademoiselle."

“Are all guilty? Are you sure all are guilty?” "Quite so. Some have violated the civil law, and some the military law; but most are Englishmen and Protestants."

Adele was not so bigoted as to believe Protestantism a sufficient crime for such punishment. She once more turned her eyes to No. 39. He was raising his heavy pick slowly, and, turning half way round, his eyes met hers.

"I wonder if he is a Protestant?" she thought.

At this moment, her father called to her to come on, and she discovered that her party had started away, leaving her alone.

"I will see him. I will talk with him, and learn something of him," was the mental determination of Adele. That day noon, while she and her father were alone, she said:

"Father, you never deny me anything." "No, my child; not if what

What do you want?"

"I want a thousand francs."

you wish is proper.

"A thousand francs, my child!"

Father, it is right and proper that I should

66

To bestow on charity."

"It is quite a large sum, my child." "Yet I want it."

Monsieur De Vere was one of the few wealthy men in the New World. He idolized his child, and had she asked for a much larger sum he would have given it her. She said no more for a day or two, but took a great interest in watching the workmen strengthening the forts. There were galley slaves, laborers, gentlemen and even women laboring on the forts.

"Father, I want to talk with him," she said one day.

"Why do you wish to talk with this galley slave?"

She answered his question by asking an

other.

Father, are people ever permitted to talk with galley slaves?"

"You can get this permission for me?"

"I cannot!" the puzzled and even angry father stoutly declared.

"You can. You have only to make the request of the governor, and it will be granted."

Monsieur De Vere was inclined to treat the request of his daughter as a wild whim; but she became earnest in her demand, and he finally laid the matter before the governor.

The governor did not think there could be any harm in gratifying the childish whim of the mademoiselle. He caused inquiry to be made of the keeper of 39 and learned that he was a very

quiet young fellow, who showed no disposition to be vicious.

The mademoiselle was determined on the interview, and her father and friends, after much protestation, consented.

There was an apartment in the great stone prison set apart for visitors. It was small, dark and unhealthy; yet the presence of a pure, noble girl seemed to fill it with sunlight.

No. 39 was amazed when the warden ordered his irons removed and told him he was to meet a visitor. He did not ask who his visitor was, for galley slaves soon learn not to question. He was conducted to the door of the dark room and told to go in. He paused on the threshold, his eyes fixed on the fair Acadian, while his fingers convulsively clutched his convict cap. Before him was an angel. He had seen that beautiful spirit before, for, like a messenger of peace and hope, it had hovered about him, until he instinctively felt that a better life was in store for him. The sweet voice of this fair being addressed him, saying:

Come nearer, I want to talk with you. "Will I dare, mademoiselle?" he asked.

His

French was good, though there was a slight for

eign accent, which might come from using his tongue so little.

"Yes, monsieur, you can talk with me with perfect freedom. I rule here."

Surely this must be a princess, he thought, who held the destiny of France in her hand. He bowed and gravely approached her. She pointed to a stool near, and bade him be seated.

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'I dare not, in your presence," he answered. "You will grow weary standing. Be seated, I command."

The galley slave obeyed and continued twirling his cap in a nervous, embarrassed manner. For a short time, she gazed on the frank, open countenance of the young man, and then said:

You look like a gentleman."

"Mademoiselle, I am not a thief," he answered. Why are you here?”

"I was brought here for trying to escape.

"Yes, mademoiselle; I was a prisoner of war." 66 Then you are no Frenchman?"

"How long had you been a prisoner of war?" "Almost three years.

"And no one would ransom you? Had you no friends?"

"Yes, mademoiselle; I have friends rich and powerful, who would willingly ransom me; but, alas, they know not that I live."