Nothing appeared upon its surface, and the far shore was lost in the night.

It seemed to Robert, despite the stone walls of the chateau by their side, that they were back in the wilderness.

It was a northern wilderness too.
The light wind off the river made him shiver.
The front door of the house opened and a figure outlined against the light appeared.

It was an old man in a black robe, tall, thin and ascetic, and Robert seeing him so clearly in the light of a lamp that he held in his hand recognized him at once.

It was Father Philibert Drouillard, the same whom he had defeated in the test of oratory in the vale of Onondaga before the wise sachems, when so much depended on victory.
"Father Drouillard!" he exclaimed impulsively, stepping forward out of the shadows.
"Who is it who speaks ?" asked the priest, holding the lamp a little higher.
"Father Drouillard, don't you know me ?" exclaimed Robert, advancing within the circle of light.
"Ah, it is young Lennox!" said the priest.