government. Three-quarters hunter and onequarter farmer, their sharpened senses and trusty rifles enabled them to procure most of their few necessaries; and the forts of the Hudson's Bay Company, where they supplied their remaining wants, afforded them the requisite market for the disposal of their furs. These men naturally heard with alarm that a fresh power, of which they knew nothing, was about to enter in and rule over them. They neither knew nor cared anything about the government of Canada; they merely knew that the Company' and themselves had long occupied and possessed the whole region; and what security had they that the new authority, which they heard was coming up to apportion their country off into square farms, would pay any heed to their claims?

The transfer of the territory from the Hudson's Bay Company to the Canadian government was effected about the middle of the year 1869. A number of land-surveyors were at once despatched to commence surveying the country; and a complete government, consisting of governor, ministers, secretaries, and all other functionaries, few of whom had any acquaintance with the freshlyacquired region, was formed in Ottawa, and despatched in a body to take possession of the new territory. This abortive government reached Saint Paul, in the State of Minnesota (four hundred and fifty miles south of Fort Garry, but at that time the nearest point of railway), early in the following October, and there commenced to make preparations for its long journey over the prairies. But news of its advent went on before; and the arrival of the information at Fort Garry fanned into the full blaze of rebellion the smouldering embers of ignorant prejudice and alarm. The Half-breeds held excited meetings, at which it was decided to oppose-by force, if need be the entrance of the governor, the Honourable Mr MacDougal, into the country. A message to this effect was forwarded to that gentleman, and the track from the United States boundary was barricaded near the La Salle River, some ten miles south of the fort.

At this time there appeared one Louis Riel, a French Half-breed, who is described as being a man of considerably greater intelligence, force of character, and capacity for leadership than the average of the class to which he belonged. This man now assumed the direction of the movement. He does not seem to have conducted himself at first in a way that was particularly improper; but, as the weather grew colder, the Half-breeds found themselves in very poor winter-quarters at the La Salle River, and it was decided to retire upon Fort Garry. This was accordingly done on the 2d of November, Riel and about one hundred of his followers entering the open gates of the fort without the slightest opposition from the governor or other of the Company's officials. Once established in the large stone fort, the rebels found themselves in comfortable circumstances. They occupied a very strong position, the fort being bastioned and defended by a battery of thirteen sixpounders, and containing nearly four hundred Enfield rifles, and an abundance of ammunition, besides large quantities of supplies of all kinds, a well-filled safe, and an overflowing wine-cellar. Moreover, the possession of the fort gave to the

Half-breed leader the command of all the other inhabitants of the settlement, such as the Scotch, English, and Canadians, who had refused to join in the movement. These were accordingly imprisoned and otherwise ill-treated by Dictator Riel, who, like many other small people when placed in situations of authority, began to imagine himself a very important individual indeed, and proceeded to act accordingly. He called together à Convention and styled himself the 'President of the Republic of the North-west.' A 'Bill of Rights'-which, it must be admitted, formed the basis of the Manitoba Act' passed by the Dominion Parliament in the following year-was drawn up and passed. In short, the rebels were now complete masters of the situation, there being no force in the settlement capable of dislodging them.

The state of affairs was much aggravated by the insane proceedings of a certain Colonel Dennis, who was to have been 'Conservator of the Peace' under the new government. This gentleman entered the settlement about the end of December with a proclamation from Governor MacDougal authorising him to assault, fire upon, break into houses, and attack, arrest, disarm, and disperse people; but, finding himself unable to carry out his injunctions, he wisely returned to Saint Paul, where he rejoined Mr MacDougal, who, with the rest of his government, set his face for home again.

Things continued to remain in this state through the whole of the winter. Riel, emboldened by the support of six or seven hundred armed followers, conducted himself in a most arbitrary manner, ruling with a high hand, and imprisoning at will those who would not support him. Both right and reason had, undoubtedly, to some extent been on the side of many of his earlier proceedings; and we might even now have fel: some amount of admiration for the energy and ability he showed in carrying on the movement, had he not at last become intoxicated with his own successes, and been thereby led to commit an act by which he once for all alienated from his cause the sympathy of all law-abiding people. This act was the murder, in cold blood, of one Thomas Scott, a Canadian, who had rendered himself obnoxious to the overbearing Dictator. This unfortunate man was shot in front of the fort on the 4th of March 1870. Riel himself seems to have been ashamed of his deed; for, refusing permission to bury him to two clergymen that had asked to be allowed to do so, he pretended to have the body interred at night within the walls of the fort; but, in the following year, when the coffin was dug up with the intention of giving a proper burial to the remains it was supposed to contain, it was found to be empty.

Thus affairs went on at Fort Garry for over nine months. But energetic preparations had been made in Eastern Canada for the suppression of the revolt; and, soon after the opening of navigation on the Great Lakes, a force consisting of one battalion of regular infantry, two of Canadian militia, a few artillerymen, and some engineers-about fourteen hundred souls in allset out for Fort Garry. The course to be followed on this expedition lay first by water up Lakes Huron and Superior, to Thunder Bay on the north-west coast of the latter, where now stands

the town of Port Arthur. From this point the little force had to traverse a veritable wilderness of glacier-scraped rocks, rushing rivers, countless lakes, and endless pine-forests, through which there were no roads, for full five hundred miles before it could reach Fort Garry-the easier means of approach, vid Saint Paul, lying through United States territory, and being closed against an armed force. No supplies could be obtained on the route: everything, including canoes, provisions, munitions of war, and supplies of all kinds, had to be carried on men's shoulders across the innumerable portages.' Only those who-like the writer-have been over the line of railway which now traverses the region, can have any true conception of the difficulties of the route, although enough was said of them at the time, and prophecies concerning the total failure of the expedition were heard on all hands. But the little force was under the command of a man who looked upon difficulties only in the light of obstacles to be overcome. This man was none other than General Lord (then Colonel) Wolseley. In due time, therefore, the journey was accomplished, and accomplished at a marvellously small expense and without the loss of a man. On the 23d of August the expeditionary force arrived under the walls of Fort Garry, amid extravagant signs of rejoicing from the loyal portion of the inhabitants of the settlement. But the fort was then empty. Riel, with his few remaining followers, had rushed off only a few minutes before, and was then making the best of his way to the frontier, in order to seek refuge on American soil. Thus ended the Red River Rebellion of 1869-70.

Looking at the matter in an unbiased light, it cannot be denied that, at the outset, the Halfbreeds had a certain amount of reason on their side. It does not appear that they had any greater grievances than the other inhabitants of the settlement who did not rise; but their ignorance led them to believe they had; and it is certain that the greater part of the blame for the whole affair is attributable to the eagerness of the Canadian officials to assume the government of the new territory. Captain Butler, who in his Great Lone Land has given us, from personal experience, one of the most readable accounts we have of the rebellion, says: "The blame for having bungled the whole business belongs collectively to all the great and puissant bodies [concerned]. An ordinary, matter-of-fact, sensible man would have managed the whole affair in a few hours; but so many high and potent powers had to consult together-to pen despatches, to speechify, and to lay down the law about it-that the whole affair became hopelessly muddled.' Moreover, it is a fact that, as a result of the rising, the Half-breeds obtained all they asked. A grant of nearly a million and a half acres of land was made to them and to their children, two hundred and forty acres being given to each of the latter. Rumour says that children were lent by one family to another, and were thus counted several times over; consequently, the Commissioners reported unusual multiplying powers as one of the characteristics of the Halfbreeds of the North-west! But the advantages obtained from the grant were almost nil. The reckless improvidence of the Half-breeds soon led

them to dispose of their lands, which were sold for merely nominal sums to the keen speculators who were soon in the field. Children of ten or twelve were allowed to go through all the legal farces connected with the sale of their lands, on the representation of the parents that they were unable to support their families without immediate help. At the present day, the ruined log shanties of the Half-breeds lie scattered in scores along the banks of the Assiniboine and the Red River, their owners, on the advent of the numerous white settlers, of whom they are by no means fond, having moved away to the more remote districts drained by the great Saskatchewan River, where they are now again creating a disturbance at the instigation of their old leader, Louis Riel, who, after ten years of banishment, returned to Winnipeg in the year 1883, while the writer was also on a visit to the city.

With regard to the movement now going on, it is difficult to give any reliable information. It is almost impossible to say what grievances— real or supposed-have occasioned it, or what it may lead to. It is certain, however, that so long as it is confined to the Half-breeds, it is not likely to be very serious: the only real danger lies in a general rising of the Indians throughout the North-west. If this once takes place, it is impossible to say where the matter will end. Thus far, it is true, the Canadian Indians-unlike those across the boundary-line-have always been fairly peaceable, largely because the conditions of their treaties with the government have been honestly observed; but still more because, for two centuries past, they have been in daily contact, for purposes of mutual advantage, with the officers of the Hudson's Bay Company. This latter fact is too often overlooked. But it is probable that even the Canadian Indians, in spite of their quiet and orderly conduct, were never in a worse condition than they are now. Although they are partially fed and maintained by government, the buffalo and the other large game-animals, which formerly supplied nearly all their wants, have been now killed off by the white men. has brought many of the Indians down almost to starvation-point, and they are often compelled to use as food gophers and other small prairie animals. Consequently, it is not altogether surprising that some at least of the Indians should now be ready to join any demonstration of malcontents that may arise.

This

It may be well to point out that the difficulty of getting troops and supplies to the seat of the present rebellion will be much less than on the last occasion. A continuous line of railway now extends from the Atlantic seaboard to within two hundred miles of the centre of the existing disturbance, and Canada is now better prepared than she was fifteen years ago to suppress anything of the kind that may break out.

Civilisation has now completely overrun the scene of the last rising. A fine city of thirty thousand inhabitants surrounds the site of Fort Garry, the strong stone walls of which have entirely disappeared; and little now remains to mark the spot where it stood except the oldfashioned beam-and-plaster houses which were formerly used as stores and residences, and a few dismounted guns and rotting gun-carriages which are scattered around. The writer has seen

tram-cars running over the spot on which the ill-fated Thomas Scott met his death.

A considerable amount of needless alarm must have been occasioned in the minds of the parents and other relatives of the many young men who have recently emigrated to Manitoba by the appearance in most of the daily papers of paragraphs headed, Revolt in Manitoba." As a matter of fact, Prince Albert, the point at which the rebellion broke out, is on the North Saskatchewan River, more than two hundred miles from the nearest part of Manitoba and nearly five hundred miles in a direct line from the city of Winnipeg. In any case, whatever development the rising may ultimately reach, the probabilities are that settlers in the province of Manitoba will not be placed in situations of real danger. The near proximity of the capital and of the railway, the comparatively small number of the combined Indians and Half-breeds, and the comparatively large number of whites in Manitoba, render it in every way likely that the movement will be confined to the wilder, more remote, and thinly settled districts lying to the north and west.

A HOUSE DIVIDED AGAINST ITSELF.

CHAPTER XXIL

LADY MARKHAM's story was one which was very well known to Society-to which everything is known-though it had remained so long a secret, and was still a mystery to one of her children. Waring had been able to lose himself in distance, and keep his position concealed from every one; but it was clear that his wife could not do so, remaining as she did in the world which was fully acquainted with her, and which required an explanation of everything that happened. Perhaps it is more essential to a woman than to a man that her position should be fully explained, though it is one of the drawbacks of an established place and sphere, which is seldom spoken of, yet is very real, and one of the greatest embarrassments of life. So long as existence is without complications, this matters little; but when these arise, those difficulties which so often distract the career of a family, the inevitable explanations that have to be made to the little interested ring of spectators, is often the worst part of domestic trouble. Waring, whose temperament was what is called sensitive-that is, impatient, self-willed, and unenduring-would not submit to such a necessity. But a woman cannot fly; she must stand in her place, if she has any regard for that place, and for the reputation which it is common to say is more delicate and easily injured than is that of a man -and make her excuse to the world. Perhaps, as, sooner or later, excuses and explanations must be afforded, it is the wiser plan to get over them publicly and at once; for even Waring, as has been seen, though he escaped, and had a dozen years of tranquillity, had at the last to submit himself to the questions of Mr Durant. that was over for these dozen years with Lady Markham. Everybody knew exactly what her position was. Scandal had never breathed upon

her, either at the moment of the separation or afterwards. It had been a foolish, romantic lovemarriage between a woman of Society and a man who was half-rustic, half-scholar. They had found after a time that they could not endure each other-as anybody with a head on his shoulders could have told them from the beginning, Society said. And then he had taken the really sensible though wild and romantic step of banishing himself and leaving her free. There were some who had supposed this a piece of bizarre generosity, like the man, and some who thought it only a natural return to the kind of life that suited him best.

Lady Markham had, of course, been censured for this, her second marriage; and equally, of course, was censured for this breach of it; for the separation, which, indeed, was none of her doing; for retaining her own place when her husband left her; and, in short, for every step she had taken in the matter from first to last. But that was twelve years ago, which is a long time in all circumstances, and which counts for about a century in Society and nobody thought of blaming her any longer, or of remarking at all upon the matter. The present lords and ladies of fashionable life had always known her as she was, and there was no further question about her history. When, in the previous season, Miss Waring had made her debut in Society and achieved the success which had been so remarkable, there was indeed a little languid question as to who was her father among those who remembered that Waring was not the name of the Markham family; but this was not interesting enough to cause any discovery of the other life, of which she had excitement. And Frances, still thrilling with the never suspected the existence, and ignorant even now of everything except the mere fact of it, suddenly found herself embraced and swallowed up in a perfectly understood and arranged routine in which there was no mystery at all.

'The first thing you must do is to make acquaintance with your relations,' said Lady nately, we have this quiet time before Easter to Markham next morning at breakfast. Fortu get over all these preliminaries. Cavendish will expect to see you at once.'

Your aunt

Journal

carved oak, which, as a 'reproduction,' was very much thought of in Eaton Square. Frances felt that the blush with which she met her mother's look must be seen, though she turned her head away, through the criticised clothes.

'Her dress is very simple; but there is nothing in bad taste. Don't you think I might take her anywhere as she is? I did not notice her hat,' said Lady Markham with gravity; but if that is right Simplicity is quite the right thing

at eighteen

'And in Lent,' said Markham.

'It is quite true; in Lent, it is better than the right thing-it is the best thing.-My dear, you must have had a very good maid. Foreign women have certainly better taste than the class we get our servants from. What a pity you did not bring her with you. One can always find room for a clever maid.'

'I don't believe she had any maid; it is all ont of her own little head,' said Markham. 'I told you not to let yourself be taken in. She has a deal in her, that little thing.'

Lady Markham smiled, and gave Frances a kiss, enfolding her once more in that soft atmosphere which had been such a revelation to her last night. I am sure she is a dear little girl, and is going to be a great comfort to me.-You will want to write your letters this morning, my love, which you must do before lunch. And after lunch, we will go and see your aunt. You know that is a matter of-what shall we call it, Markham-conscience: with me.'

'Pride,' Markham said, coming and standing by them in front of the fire.

'Perhaps a little,' she answered with a smile; but conscience too. I would not have her say that I had kept the child from her for a single day.'

That is how conscience speaks, Fan,' said Markham. You will know next time you hear it. And after the Cavendishes?'

'Well-of course, there must be a hundred things the child wants.-We must look at your evening dresses together, darling. Tell Josephine to lay them out and let me see them. We are going to have some people at the Priory for Easter; and when we come back, there will be no time. Yes, I think on our way home from Portland Place, we must just look into-a shop or two.' 'Now my mind is relieved,' Markham said.-'I thought you were going to change the course of Lature, Fan.'

'The child is quite bewildered by your nonsense, Markham,' the mother said.

And this was quite true. Frances had never been on such terms with her father as would have entitled her to venture to laugh at him. She was confused with this new phase, as well as with her many other discoveries: and it appeared to her that Markham looked just as old 13 his mother. Lady Markham was fresh and fair, her complexion as clear as a girl's, and her hair still brown and glossy. If art in any way added to this perfection, Frances had no suspicion of such a possibility. And when she looked from her mother's round and soft contour to the wrinkles of Markham, and his no-colour and indefinite age, and heard him address her with that half-caressing, half-bantering equality, the girl's mind grew more and more hopelessly

confused. She withdrew, as was expected of her, to write her letters, though without knowing how to fulfil that duty. She could write (of course) to her father. It was of course, and so was what she told him. 'We arrived about six o'clock. I was dreadfully confused with the noise and the crowds of people. Mamma was very kind. She bids me send you her love. The house is very fine, and full of furniture, and fires in all the rooms; but one wants that, for it is much colder here. We are going out after luncheon to call on my aunt Cavendish. I wish very much I knew who she was, or who my other relations are; but I suppose I shall find out in time.' This was the scope of Frances' letter. And she did not feel warranted, somehow, in writing to Constance. She knew so little of Constance and was she not in some respects a supplanter, taking Constance' place? When she had finished her short letter to her father, which was all fact, with very few reflections, Frances paused and looked round her, and felt no further inspiration. Should she write to Mariuccia? But that would require time-there was so much to be said to Mariuccia. Facts were not what she would want—at least, it would have to be facts of a different kind; and Frances felt that daylight and all the arrangements of the new life, the necessity to be ready for luncheon and to go out after, were not conditions under which she could begin to pour out her heart to her old nurse, the attendant of her childhood. She must put off till the evening, when she should be alone and undisturbed, with time and leisure to collect all her thoughts and first impressions. She put down her pen, which was not, indeed, an instrument she was much accustomed to wield, and began to think instead; but all her thinking would not tell her who the relatives were to whom she was about to be presented; and she reflected with horror that her ignorance must betray the secret which she had so carefully kept, and expose her father to further and further criticism.

There was only one way of avoiding this danger, and that was through Markham, who alone could help her, who was the only individual in whom she could feel a confidence that he would give her what information he could, and understand why she asked. If she could but find Markham! she went down-stairs, timidly flitting along the great staircase through the great drawing-room, which was vacant, and found no trace of him. She lingered, peeping out from between the curtains of the windows upon the leafless gardens outside in the spring sunshine, the passing carriages which she could see through their bare boughs, the broad pavement close at hand with so few passengers, the clatter now and then of a hansom, which amused her even in the midst of her perplexity, or the drawing up of a brougham at some neighbouring door. After a minute's distraction thus, she returned again to make further investigations from the drawing-room door, and peep over the balusters to watch for her brother. At last she had the good-luck to perceive him coming out of one of the rooms on the lower floor. She darted down as swift as a bird and touched him on the sleeve. He had his hat in his hand, as if preparing to go out. Oh,' she said in a breathless

whisper, 'I want to speak to you; I want to ask you something,' holding up her hand with a warning hush.

'What is it?' returned Markham, chiefly with his eyebrows, with a comic affectation of silence and secrecy which tempted her to laugh in spite of herself. Then he nodded his head, took her hand in his, and led her up-stairs to the drawingroom again. What is it you want to ask me? Is it a state secret? The palace is full of spies, and the walls of ears,' said Markham with mock solemnity, and I may risk my head by following you. Fair conspirator, what do you want to ask?'

'O Markham, don't laugh at me it is serious. -Please, who is my aunt Cavendish?'

'You little Spartan!' he said; 'you are a plucky little girl, Fan. You won't betray the daddy, come what may. You are quite right, my dear; but he ought to have told you. I don't approve of him, though I approve of you.'

'Papa has a right to do as he pleases,' said Frances steadily; that is not what I asked you, please.'

He stood and smiled at her, patting her on the shoulder. 'I wonder if you will stand by me like that, when you hear me get my due?Who is your aunt Cavendish? She is your father's sister, Fan; I think the only one who is left.'

'Papa's sister! I thought it must be-on the other side.'

'My mother,' said Markham, 'has few relations; which is a misfortune that I bear with equanimity. Mrs Cavendish married a lawyer a great many years ago, Fan, when he was poor; and now he is very rich, and they will make him a judge one of these days.'

A judge,' said Frances. 'Then he must be very good and wise. And my aunt'

My dear, the wife's qualities are not as yet taken into account. She is very good, I don't doubt; but they don't mean to raise her to the Bench.-You must remember when you go there, Fan, that they are the other side.'

'What do you mean by the other side?' inquired Frances anxiously, fixing her eyes upon the kind, queer, insignificant personage, who yet was so important in this house.

Markham gave forth that little chuckle of a laugh which was his special note of merriment. 'You will soon find it out for yourself,' he replied; but the dear old mammy can hold her own. Is that all? for I'm running off; I have an engagement.'

'Oh, not all-not half. I want you to tell me-I want to know-I-I don't know where to begin,' said Frances, with her hand on the sleeve of his coat.

'Nor I,' he retorted with a laugh.-'Let me go now; we'll find an opportunity. Keep your eyes, or rather your ears, open; but don't take all you hear for gospel.-Good-bye till to-night. I'm coming here to-night.'

'Don't you live here?' said Frances, accompanying him to the door.

'Not such a fool, thank you,' replied Markham, stopping her gently, and closing the door of the room with care after him as he went away.

Frances was much discouraged by finding

nothing but that closed door in front of her where she had been gazing into his ugly but expressive face. It made a sort of dead stop, an emphatic punctuation, marking the end. Why should he say he was not such a fool as to live at home with his mother? Why should he be so nice and yet so odd? Why had Constance warned her not to put herself in Markham's hands? All this confused the mind of Frances whenever she began to think. And she did not know what to do with herself. She stole to the window and watched through the white curtains, and saw him go away in the hansom which stood waiting at the door. She felt a vacancy in the house after his departure, the loss of a support, an additional silence and sense of solitude; even something like a panic took possession of her soul. The impulse was to rush up-stairs again and shut herself up in her room. She had never yet been alone with her mother except for a moment. She dreaded the (quite unnecessary, to her thinking) meal which was coming, at which she must sit down opposite to Lady Markham, with that solemn old gentleman, dressed like Mr Durant, and that gorgeous theatrical figure of a footman, serving the two ladies. Ah, how different from Domenico-poor Domenico, who had called her carina from her childhood, and who wept over her hand as he kissed it, when she was coming away. Oh when should she see these faithful friends again?

'I want you to be quite at your ease with your aunt Cavendish,' said Lady Markham at luncheon, when the servants had left the room. She will naturally want to know all about your father and your way of living. We have not talked very much on that subject, my dear, because, for one thing, we have not had much time; and because- But she will want to know all the little details. And, my darling, I want just to tell you, to warn you. Poor Caroline is not very fond of me. Perhaps it is natural. She may say things to you about your mother'

"O no, mamma,' said Frances, looking up in her mother's face.

'You don't know, my dear. Some people have a great deal of prejudice. Your aunt Caroline, as is quite natural, takes a different view. I wonder if I can make you understand what I mean without using words which I don't want to use?'

'Yes,' said Frances; 'you may trust me, mamma; I think I understand.'

Lady Markham rose and came to where her child sat, and kissed her tenderly. My dear, I think you will be a great comfort to me, she said. 'Constance was always hot-headed She would not make friends, when I wished her to make friends. The Cavendishes are very rich; they have no children, Frances. Naturally, I wish you to stand well with them. Besides that I would not allow her to suppose for a moment that I would keep you from herthat is what I call conscience, and Markham calls pride.'

Frances did not know what to reply. She did not understand what the wealth of the Cavendishes had to do with it; everything else she could understand. She was very willing,