The old Citadel was brilliantly illuminated. Lights gleamed in every window. The snow was shovelled clean from the footpaths, and guardsmen had made smooth the drives for incoming sleighs. The full moon shone with softened lustre from a cloudless sky, filling the air with voiceless music, and enveloping with chastened beauty the wide stretches of ice and snow which mantled the earth.

Within the citadel a bevy of pretty girls, aided by the junior officers, had decorated the doors and windows with elaborate care. Festoons of cedar, sprigs of holly and bunches of red berries, softened by the light from the candelabra, while innumerable lamps of archaic design added variety and beauty to the scene.

The ballroom was decorated with national and colonial flags, those of the 100th being added to do honor to the occasion; while the Vice-Regal chair was surrounded with rugs of rich and rare texture. In a tÊte-a-tÊte corner to the left of the main entrance, luxurious, long-haired, polar bear skins littered the floor; while, on the opposite side, the feet of the guests sank deep in the furs of buffalo from the west.

"What a characteristic room!" exclaimed Helen, as she stood for a moment at the wide entrance, leaning on the arm of her husband. "I never saw so many flags and beautiful skins in one room in my life."

"Nor I either. Still the setting is appropriate—the flags a token of the present war, and the skins a trophy of the huntsmen's prowess. Furs are one of the main products of the country, you know."

"I wonder if it can produce as many women?" said Helen, glancing over the Hall. "There are few but men here yet."

"All the more triumph for the women who are," was his answer, as he looked down with love into her eyes.

The Governor and Lady Sherbrooke, with Mrs. and Colonel Mason and Sir George Head, were receiving when they entered. Officers of the garrison and several from the North King were there, as well as civilians with their wives and daughters.

"May I have the honor of the opening quadrille with you?" said Colonel Mason to Helen after presenting her.

"I shall be only too happy," was her answer. But a faint flush rose to her cheek. She would prefer to have danced the opening one with her husband.

"The guests are still coming, and our dance will be soon; au revoir until then."

Harold and she passed on. More than a dozen ladies had by this time arrived—most of them young and some very pretty, with white shoulders and graceful figures. Not a few had flashing diamonds, brought by their mothers from the old land over the sea, and they sparkled like the eyes of their winsome wearers as they mingled with the men.

"How pretty they are!" said Harold, sotto voce. "As fresh as if new from England."

"I don't see any of the blue noses they talk about," Helen returned. "It must be a healthy climate, Harold, if it is cold."

At this moment Judge and the Misses Maxwell were announced. The Judge, a large and portly man, crowned with periwig, had a keen, intelligent face. He was accompanied by his two daughters. One was of the large blonde type with blue eyes and flaxen hair, always smiling in a decided way of her own. The other, Miss Maud, was of a different type. No one would have taken them for sisters. Slight in build and quick in movement, there was a winsome charm about her that was very engaging. Perhaps the most distinguishing feature in her manner was her strong, unconscious frankness. Her features were regular and her eyes black, while her wealth of dark hair and sweet countenance combined to make her irresistibly charming. One would think from the color of her hair and eyes that she should have been a brunette; but her skin was exquisitely white and the petal of a delicate rose seemed to have planted its hue upon her cheek.

In attire the two young ladies differed as much as in personal appearance. The blonde was dressed in white; but Maud had a robe of chameleon hue, that reflected in changeable lustre every flash of light that fell upon it from the chandeliers above. The delicate fulness revealed by the low corsage was partially hidden by a bunch of violets from her own indoor garden, while a little circlet of pearls and minute diamonds flashed upon her neck.

"What character there is in that face!" said Helen to Mrs. Mason a moment later, as the Colonel joined her for the dance.

"Yes, there is. Would you like to know her?"

"I would indeed!"

"I will introduce her after the quadrille is over."

"Thank you."

Sir John Sherbrooke escorted Mrs. Mason to the upper end of the room. Then came Sir George and Lady Sherbrooke, followed by Captain Osborne and one of the colonial dames, while Colonel Mason and Helen brought up the rear. Together they formed the set for the opening quadrille—and stately and beautiful it was, as Helen remembered long afterwards.

All eyes were fixed upon the four couples. With elaborate bows and graceful formality, they stepped through the figures of the dance. The measured music from the violins and harps beat a slower time in the days of our forefathers than now; and there was a dignity and solemnity in the first dance of the period—almost equivalent to the sacred decorum of a religious rite—that in this rushing age has been forgotten.

"Mrs. Manning—Miss Maud Maxwell," said Mrs. Mason after the dance was over. "You young ladies have each expressed a desire to know each other."

As they clasped hands and looked into each other's eyes, several moments passed away; thoughts seemed to be uttered without words.

"Strangers, and yet not strangers," said Helen. "I could fancy I had known you for years."

"It must be the same feeling," said Maud, still holding the extended hand; "a sweet joy in seeing you, although we never met before."

"It is all owing to the talk you have made among us," said Mrs. Mason, taking each young lady by the arm and leading the way to one of the tÊte-a-tÊte corners already referred to. "Maud was always ambitious, headstrong, wayward. Perhaps a little chat between you two will do each good. There, I will leave you, but with so many gentlemen and so few ladies, I cannot guarantee a minute by yourselves."

"Would you care for a companion in your journey west, Mrs. Manning?" Maud asked in a swift, low voice, as Mrs. Mason, accepting the arm of an officer, left them. She must speak while the chance lasted.

"I know I would," was Helen's startled answer; "but after all that is said against it, I fear that I could not conscientiously advise."

"It would be simply glorious to go," said Maud, enthusiastically. "Out in the starry night with the trees cracking and the wolves howling, while you are rolled up in your buffalo robes, snug and warm, and safe from all danger."

"You young enthusiast! What a splendid companion you would make!"

"Would I?" and the girl's eyes flashed. "Oh, if I only could!"

At this moment Mrs. Mason returned to introduce another gentleman.

"Mrs. Mason," said Helen as they arose from their seat. "Do you know that Miss Maud Maxwell would like to be one of our party?"

"That is not surprising," was the answer. "I've known Maud ever since she was a baby, and she was always a Tom-boy."

"Why traduce my fair name?" said Maud with a laugh.

"My dear, is it not true?"

"Please don't be pathetic. I'd like to go; that is all."

"And you really mean it?" Helen asked, looking gravely into the girl's face.

"Yes, I do. But I suppose there will be little chance. Father would oppose it, and no doubt Sir George would also. Still I would give anything to go with you. But I am engaged for this waltz. Mrs. Manning—Doctor Beaumont."

And she walked away with him as Harold joined them. Helen followed the doctor for some moments with her eyes. His face had a French cast, although his skin was fairer and his hair lighter than is usually found in that race.

"The doctor is devoted to Maud," said Mrs. Mason, "although I do not think she cares for him."

"Is he the surgeon who is to go with the regiment?" Harold asked.

"I think not. Dr. Fairchild is the man spoken of," said Mrs. Mason. "I suppose I should not mention it, but as you are one of the officers it can do no harm to tell you. I believe that Dr. Beaumont would like to go. It will however be finally decided to-morrow."

"Thank you for telling us," said Helen. "I suppose it is out of the question about Miss Maud going?"

"Entirely out of the question." returned the elder lady emphatically. "If they should happen to appoint Dr. Beaumont, she would not dream of going. H-m, h-m," she continued, wisely shaking her little grey head; "that throws new light upon it; I do not believe she will really want to go."

"My dear, if we do not commence we shall lose our waltz," exclaimed Harold to his wife, "It is half through already."

"A thousand pardons, dearie. It is our first since we were married. I wouldn't miss it for the world," and her winsome smile thrilling him again, as it had always done, they glided over the floor.

The next afternoon Maud visited Helen at the Citadel.

"Our little chat remained unfinished," were almost her first words. "There were so many unmarried officers at the ball last night that the gentlemen outnumbered the ladies, and I did not get a chance to speak to you again."

"You were sensibly occupied, and I forgive you," returned Helen. "I know I danced more than I have done for years, and yet only managed to have two waltzes with my husband."

"I like Lieutenant Manning," returned Maud. "I had a polka with him, and his chivalry took me, for he stopped before our dance was over to escort old Mrs. Tindall across the room. Most young men would have let the lady look after herself."

"I knew what I was doing when I married Harold," said Helen with glowing face. "You see I think so much of my husband that I am willing to travel to the ends of the earth with him."

"I would have to love a man like that or I would never marry," said Maud.

"You'll find him some day, if you have not already. And what about Penetanguishene? Do you still desire to be one of our party?"

"Yes and no," was the girl's reply, her mouth assuming for the moment a set expression. "I'm afraid I said too much last night. Much as I would like to go I find it will be impossible. So there is no use even thinking about it."

"Perhaps later when our fort is built and the war is over, you will come."

"Possibly," and her eyes melted into a dreamy expression. "Let me thank you for the suggestion. If I can I will."

"It is probably better so," said Helen, puzzled at such a speedy change of attitude.

At this moment Mrs. Mason entered the room.

"I have just received the latest news," she said. "It was announced at the officers' quarters this morning, that Dr. Beaumont has received the appointment as surgeon to the 100th. Colonel Mason told me only a few minutes ago."

Helen involuntarily glanced at Maud, but at this moment the frank expression was absent. Did she know already?

"Is not this a surprise?" said Helen. "Of course I know nothing about the appointment, only that rumor last evening gave the place to Dr. Fairchild."

"So it did," said Mrs. Mason; "but his father is not well and can ill spare him. Perhaps that is the reason of the change."

"I have just been taking back some of my own foolish talk," said Maud, looking directly at Mrs. Mason. "My sudden fancy of going west with the regiment was inspired by the fortitude of this brave lady—just an enthusiastic idea that cannot be realized."

"But she has promised to visit me at Lake Huron after the war is over," said Helen.

"The very time you ought to go yourself," was her hostess' comment.

Mrs. Mason was one of those kind-hearted ladies who, having no children of their own, consider it their duty to interest themselves in the children of others. She always had two or three of her young lady friends under her wing, and was never contented unless endeavoring to pilot them to their destined haven. She must not only guide them aright, but see also that they did not wilfully go wrong. That Maud Maxwell, in her estimation the sweetest girl in all Halifax, should be allowed to go on that desperate western journey was not to be thought of for a moment. If she could not prevent the newly arrived bride from sacrificing herself on the altar of a "crazy idea," she certainly could prevent Maud from following suit. At all events she would try.

There were more ways of killing a cat than one. Persuasion in one quarter might have no effect, but a square talk in another, might; and Maud's incomprehensible coolness with Dr. Beaumont might be turned to advantage. Socially as well as professionally he was a very estimable young man; and Mrs. Mason was surprised, knowing how deeply he was in love with Maud, that a better understanding had not been arrived at between them. Now, however, when she discovered that Maud intended to make a special appeal to both Sir George and Colonel Mason to allow her to accompany Helen on the journey, she concluded to turn the association between Dr. Beaumont and the maiden to the best account, and in her own quiet way put an end to the mad "project."

What passed in the way of a curtain lecture between Colonel Mason and his spouse after the ball was over, there was no one to tell; but the celerity with which the medical appointment was discussed, decided upon, and ratified when morning came, was somewhat remarkable. Sir George and Colonel Mason were closeted together for half an hour after breakfast; and then a couple of orderlies were summoned, and messages dispatched to both of the doctors, containing the results of the decision. As a consequence, Dr. Beaumont's mind was filled with conflicting thoughts when he received the message. The first impression was surprise, for he knew it had been otherwise arranged; but as the decision now was final, he must obey, and his relation to Maud disturbed him. To leave her at once might render his unreturned love hopeless. If he could have remained, possibly he might win her yet; but to go away now and stay perhaps for years, with the attentions and hearts of other men continually at her feet, seemed more than he could bear.

Still there was the other side to view. The post of surgeon to the 100th was a distinct promotion; for he and Doctor Fairchild were both army officers, and it flattered the spirit of rivalry which existed between them to be selected over his fellow. The illness of Dr. Fairchild's father was quietly hinted to both gentlemen as the probable cause of the change; but the possibility that Mrs. Mason might have had something to do with the final appointment, was not thought of, much less mentioned.

The die was cast however, whatever would come of it, and Dr. Beaumont realized that he must prepare at once for the journey. The mixed blood of his parentage had made a strong man of him; for he possessed the passion and vehemence of the Frenchman from his father, tempered by the stolidity and integrity of the Scotch race from his mother.

After reporting himself at headquarters, and rapidly making preparations for the prospective march, it was late in the evening before he could spare time to call at the Judge's. He had sent no message to Maud. Still he hoped and believed that she would be ready to receive him. She must have heard of his appointment. Would she be glad or sorry? How would she welcome him? Was it possible that she would rejoice at being relieved of the attentions of an unwelcome suitor? Or was it imaginable that she would be glad of his promotion, and reward his devotion by encouragement on the very eve of his departure?

At any rate he would see and know the truth; and, after walking past the house several times to soothe his nerves and check the rapid beating of his heart, he finally knocked at the door for a final interview with Maud.

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