A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD QUEBEC

 By AMANDA M. DOUGLAS

A. L. BURT COMPANYPUBLISHERS NEW YORK

Copyright, 1906BY DODD, MEAD & COMPANY

CONTENTS

 I. A WILD ROSE

 II. THE JOY OF FRIENDSHIP

 III. SUMMER TIME

 IV. A HUSBAND

 V. CHANGING ABOUT

 VI. FINDING AMUSEMENTS

 VII. JOURNEYING TO A FAR COUNTRY

 VIII. WHAT ROSE DID NOT LIKE

 IX. ABOUT MARRIAGES

 X. MILADI AND M. DESTOURNIER

 XI. A FEAST OF SUMMER

 XII. A LOVER IN EARNEST

 XIII. FROM A GIRL'S HEART

 XIV. A WAY OVER THORNS

 XV. HELD IN AN ENEMY'S GRASP

 XVI. A LOVER OF THE WILDERNESS

 XVII. THE PASSING OF OLD QUEBEC

A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD QUEBEC

CHAPTER I

A WILD ROSE

Ralph Destournier went gayly along, whistling a merry French song thatwas nearly all chorus, climbing, slipping, springing, wondering in hisheart as many a man did then what had induced Samuel de Champlain todream out a city on this craggy, rocky spot. Yet its wildness had animpressive grandeur. Above the island of Orleans the channel narrowed, and there were the lovely green heights of what was to be Point Levis, more attractive, he thought, than these frowning cliffs. The anglebetween the St. Charles and St. Lawrence gave an impregnable site for afortress, and Champlain was a born soldier with a quick eye to seize onthe possibility of defence. 

On the space between the cliffs and the water a few wooden buildings, rough hewn, marked the site of the lower town. A wall had been erected, finished with a gallery, loopholed for musketry, and within this werethe beginnings of a town that was to be famous for heroic deeds, for menof high courage, for quaintness that perpetuates old stories which areperfect romances yet to-day after the lapse of three centuries. 

There was a storehouse quite well fortified, there was a courtyard withsome fine walnut trees, and a few gardens stretching out with pleasantgreenery, while doves were flying about in wide circles, a reminder ofhome. Ralph Destournier had a spirit of adventure and Champlain was agreat hero to him. Coming partly of Huguenot stock he had fewer chancesat home, and he believed there was more liberty in the new world, abetter outlook for a restless, eager mind. 

He went on climbing over the sun-baked cliffs, while here and there in adepression where rain could linger there were patches of verdure, treesthat somehow maintained a footing. How unlike the level old seaport townwhere he had passed a good part of his youth, considered hisgrandfather's heir, when in the turn of fortune's wheel the sturdy oldHuguenot had been killed in battle and his estates confiscated. 

Something stirred up above him, not any small animal either. It crackledthe bushes and moved about with a certain agility. Could it be a deer?He raised his gun. 

Then a burst of song held him in amaze. It was not a bird, though itseemed to mock several of them. There were no especial words or rhymes, but the music thrilled him. He strode upward. Out of a leafy bowerpeered a face, child or woman, he could not tell at first, a crown oflight, loose curling hair and two dark, soft merry eyes, a cherry-redmouth and dimpled chin. 

"Hello! How did you get up there?" he asked in his astonishment. Indianssometimes lurked about. 

"I climbed. You did not suppose I flew?"

The tone was merry rather than saucy, and taking a few steps nearer, hesaw she was quite a child. But she wore no cap and she shook thewind-blown hair aside with a dainty gesture. There was a fearlessnessabout her that charmed him. 

"And you live--here?"

"Not here in the woods--no. But down in the town. Down there by thegarden, M'sieu Hébert and the General. And Maman has one. But I hateworking in it. So I ran away. Do you know what will happen to me when Igo back?"

"No, what?" with a sense of amusement. "Perhaps you will get no supper!"

"I shall be whipped. And to-morrow I shall not be let out of the garden. When I get to be a woman I won't work in the garden. I won't even have ahusband. They make you do just as they like. Why isn't one's way as goodas another's?"

A line of perplexity settled between her eyes that were soft enough tomelt the heart of a stone, he thought, if stones really had hearts. 

"Older people are generally wiser. And mothers----"

"Oh, she isn't my mother, " interrupted the child. "Even Catherine wasnot my mother. I was very sorry for that. She was good and tender, butshe died. And Jean was very angry because she was not my real mother, and he would have nothing to do with me. So he brought me to Maman. Oh, it was a long while ago. Maman is good in some ways. She gives me plentyto eat when we have it and she does not beat me often, as she doesPani. "

"And who is Pani?"

"Oh, the little slave. His tribe was driven away after they had losttheir battle, but some of the children were left behind and they areslaves. Do you suppose the Indians will ever conquer M. De Champlain?Then we should be slaves--or killed. "

He shuddered. Already he had heard tales of awful cruelty in thetreatment of prisoners. 

"Are you not afraid some Indians may be prowling about?" and he glancedfurtively around. 

"Oh, they do not come here. They are good friends with M. De Champlain. And the fort is guarded. I should hide if one came. "

She began to descend and presently reached his level. 

"There are long shadows. It gets to be supper time. "

He smiled. "Are the shadows your clock hands?"

"We have no clock. M. De Champlain carries his in his pocket. But yousee the sun sends long shadows over to the east. It is queer. The sunkeeps going round. What is on the other side?"

"It would take a good deal of study to understand it all, " he returnedgravely. 

"I like to hear them talk. There are wonderful places. And where isIndia? Can any one find the passage they are looking for and sail roundthe world?"

"They have sailed round it. "

"And have you seen Paris and the King?"

"I fought for the dead King. And Paris--why, you cannot imagine anythinglike it. "

"Ah, but we are going to have new France here. And perhaps Paris. "

There were pride and gladness in her voice. He smiled inwardly, he wouldnot disturb her childish dream. Would she ever see the beautiful cityand the pageants that were almost daily occurrences?

"When did you come here?" she asked presently. 

"A fortnight ago, when the storeship arrived. "

"Ah, yes. Maman and I went to see it and M. Hébert sent us some curious, delicious dried fruits. M. De Champlain is quite sure we shall grow themin time and have beautiful gardens, and fine people who know manythings. Can you read?"

"Why, yes"--laughing. 

"I wish I could. But we have no books. Maman thinks it a waste of time, except for the men who must do business and write letters. Can you writeletters?"

"Yes"--studying her with amusement. 

"Catherine could read. But she had no books. I once learned some of theletters. Jean could make figures. "

"Where is he?"

"Oh, off with the fur-hunters. And Antoine makes ever so much money. Andhe says he and Maman will go back to France. And I suppose they willleave me here. Antoine has two brothers and one is at Brouage, where M. De Champlain was born. "

She leaped from point to point in a graceful, agile manner, ran swiftlydown some declivity, while he held his breath, it seemed so fraught withdanger, but she only looked back laughingly. What a daring midget shewas!

And when they were in sight of the palisades they saw a group of men, Pontgrave and Champlain among them. Destournier quickened his pace andtouched his hat to them with a reverent grace. 

"Have you had a guide?" and Champlain held out his hand to the littlegirl while he asked the question of Destournier. She took Champlain'shand in both of hers and pressed it against her cheek. Pontgrave smiledat her as well. 

Destournier glanced up at the eminence where he had first seen themoving figure. How steep and unapproachable!

"Could you find no fairer site for a new Paris?" he inquired smilingly. "How will you get up and down the streets when you come to that?"

"Is it not the key to the north and a natural fortress? Look you, with acannon at its base and over opposite, no trading vessel could steal up, no hostile man-of-war invade us. There will come a time when the oldworld will divide this mighty continent between them and the strugglewill be tremendous. It will behoove France to see that her entrances arewell guarded. And from this point we must build. What could be afairer, prouder, more invincible heritage for France? For we shall sweepacross the continent, we shall have the whole of the fur trade in time. We shall build great cities, " and Champlain's face glowed with the pridehe took in the new world. 

Yet it was a small beginning, and a less intrepid soul would have beendaunted by the many discouragements. A few dwelling houses, a moat witha drawbridge, and the space of land running down to the river dividedinto gardens. The Sieur de Champlain found time to sow various seeds, wheat and rye as well, to set out berries brought from the woods andnative grape vines that were better fitted to withstand the rigorousclimate. But now it was simply magnificent, glowing with the earlyautumn suns. 

"I have a good neighbor who takes a great interest in these things. Youmust inspect Mère Dubray's garden. With a dozen emigrants like her weshould have the wilderness abloom. She rivals Hébert. We must have someagriculture. We cannot depend on the mother country for all our food. And if the Indians can raise corn and other needful supplies, why notwe?"

"Ah, ha! little truant!" cried Mère Dubray, with a sharp glance at thechild, "where hast thou been all the afternoon, while weeds have beengrowing apace?"

"She has been playing guide to a stranger, " explained Destournier, "andI have found her most interesting. It has been time well spent. "

Mère Dubray smiled. She always felt honored by the encomiums of M. DeChamplain. She was proud of her garden, as well, and pleased to havevisitors inspect it. Indeed the young man thought he had seen no neatergardens in sunny France. 

"Mère Dubray, " he said, "convert this young man into an emigrant. I am alittle sorry to have him begin in the autumn when the summer is so muchmore enticing. But if the worst is taken first there is hope for betterto cheer the heart. "

Something about her brought to mind the women of old France who sturdilyfought their way to a certain prosperity. She was rather short andstout, but with no loosely-hanging flesh, her hair was still coal-black, with a sharp sort of waviness, and her eyes had the sparkle of beads. Her brown skin was relieved by a warm color in the cheeks and the red, rather smiling lips. No one could imagine the child hers. It was nothingto him, yet he felt rather glad. 

Destournier was very friendly, however, and found her reallyintelligent. The little girl ran hither and thither, quite a privilegedcharacter. There were very few children beyond the Indians andhalf-breeds. The fur-hunters often went through a sort of ceremony withthe Indian girls during their weeks of dickering with the traders. Somereturned another season to renew their vows, others sought new loves. 

"I suppose the child has some sort of story?" he said to Champlain asthey sat in the evening smoking their pipes. 

"The child? The reputed mother came over with some emigrants sent by theKing, and as a widow she married Jean Arlac. He, it seems, was muchdisappointed at not having children of his own and was not over-cordialto the little girl. Rather more than a year ago his wife was taken ill, she had never been robust. And in her last moments she confessed thechild was not her own, but that of a friend, and before she told thewhole story a convulsion seized her. Jean was very angry and declaredthe child was nothing to him. He brought it to Mère Dubray and then wentoff to the fur regions, from whence the tidings came that he had marriedan Indian woman and taken a post station. She is a bright little thing, and I think must have come of gentle people. Her only trinket is a chainand locket, with a sweet young face in it. "

"But there is no chance here for any sort of education. She seemsnaturally intelligent. "

"There will be soon. There is a plan to bring out some nuns, and weshall build a chapel. We cannot do everything at once. The mothercountry cannot be roused to the importance of this step. It is notsimply to discover, one must hold with a secure hand. And we must makehomes, we must people them. "

Pontgrave was to return to France. Ralph Destournier had half a mind toaccompany him, but he was young and adventurous and desirous of seeingmore of this strange country. At last he cast in his lot with them forthe year at least. 

October was a gorgeous month with its changing colors, its rather sharpnights when the log fires were a delight, and its days of sunshine thatbrought a summer warmth at noon. At night the sky sparkled with stars. 

The buildings were calked on the outside and hung with furs within. Harsh winds swept down from the northwest, everything was hooded withsnow. Now one counted stores carefully and wasted nothing, thoughChamplain's ever sympathetic heart dealt out a little from his not tooabundant supplies to the wandering Montagnais and gave their women andchildren food and shelter. There was a continual fight to keep eventolerably well. Scurvy was one enemy, a low sort of fever another. 

There were many plans to make for the opening of spring. Yet RalphDestournier would have found it intolerably dull but for the little girlwhose name was Rose. He taught her to read--Champlain fortunately hadsome books in French and Latin. There were bits of old history, a volumeof Terence, another of Virgil, and out of what he knew and read hereconstructed stories that charmed her. Most of all she liked to hearabout the King. The romances of Henry of Navarre fired herrapidly-awakening imagination. 

Destournier took several little excursions with the intrepid explorerbefore the severest of the winter set in. What faith he had in thiswonderful new France that was to add so much glory and prosperity to theold world! If its rulers could have but looked through his eyes and hadhis aims. There was Tadoussac, there was the upper St. Charles, whereJacques Cartier and his men had passed a winter that in spite of theutmost heroism had ended in the tragedy of death. To the south there wasa sturdy band of Englishmen trying the same experiment, not merely fortheir King and country, but also some reward for themselves. Neitherwere they eager to plant the standard of religion; that was left forPuritans and French missionaries. 

It seemed to Destournier that the scheme of colonization was hardlyworth while. He had not Champlain's enthusiasm--there was much to do forFrance, and that land had always to be on the defensive with England. Would it not be so here in the years to come? And the Indians would be acontinual menace. 

But there was a whole continent to convert, to civilize. He went back tothe times of Charlemagne and the struggles that had brought out aglorious France. And no one had given up the passage to India. Lyingwestward was a great river, and what was beyond that no one knew. It wasthe province of man to find out. 

It was a dull life for a little girl in the winter. Rose almost longedfor the garden, even if weeds did grow apace. In the old country MèreDubray had spun flax and wool, here there was none to spin. She hadlearned a little work from the Indian women, but she was severelyplain. What need of fringes and bead work and laying feathers in rows tobe stitched on with a sort of thread made of fine, tough grass? And asfor cooking, one had to be economical and make everything with a view toreal sustenance, not the high art of cooking, though her peasant lifehad inducted her into this. 

The little girl made a playhouse in one corner of the cabin and stood upsticks for Indian children to whom she told over what had been taughther. They blundered just as she had done, but she had a curious patiencewith them that would have touched one's heart. 

"What nonsense!" Mère Dubray would exclaim. "It is well enough for men, and priests must know Latin prayers, but this is beyond anything a womanneeds. And to be repeating it to sticks----"

"But I get so lonely when they are all away, " and the child sighed. "Thereal Indian girls were a pleasure, but I'm afraid you could not teachthem to read any more than these make-believes. "

"Yes, winter is a dreary time. I'm not sure but I would rather be up inthe fur country with my man. It seems they find plenty of game. "

There was not so much game here, for the Indians were ever on the alertand the roving bands always on the verge of starvation. But once in awhile there was a feast of fresh meat and Mère Dubray made tasty messesfor the hungry men. 

Rose, bundled up in furs sometimes, ran around the gallery where theyhad cleared the snow. Then there were the forge and the workshop, wherethe men were hewing immense walnut trees into slabs and posts for springbuilding. Some days the doves were let out of the cote in the sunshineand it was fascinating to see them circle around. They knew the littlegirl and would alight on her shoulder and eat grains out of her hand, coo to her and kiss her. Destournier loved to watch her, a real child ofnature, innocent as the doves themselves. Mère Dubray had scarcely moreidea of the seriousness of life or the demands of another existencebeyond. She told her beads, prayed to her patron saint with small ideaof what heaven might be like, unless it was the beautiful little hamletwhere she was born. And as she was not sure the child had beenchristened, she thought it best to wait for the advent of a priest todirect her in the right way. 

She was not a little horrified by Destournier's curious familiarity withGod and heaven, as it seemed to her. Rose understood almost intuitivelythat it terrified her, that it seemed a sacrilege, though she would nothave known what the word meant. So she said very little about it--it wasa beautiful land beyond the sky where people went when they died. Sometimes, when the wonderful beauty of sunset moved her to a strangeecstasy, she longed to be transported thither. And in the moving whitedrifts she saw angel forms with out-stretched arms and called to them. 

The beginning of the new year was bitter indeed. Snow piled mountainhigh, it seemed a whole world of snow. For windows they had clothsoaked in oil, but now the curtains of fur were dropped within and abarricade raised without. There were only the blazing logs to give lightand make shadows about. They hovered around it, ate nuts, parched corn, and heated their smoked eels. They slept late in the morning and went tobed early. The lack of exercise and vegetables told on health, andtowards spring more than one of the little band went their way to theland beyond and left a painful vacancy. But one week there came amarvellous change. The mountains of snow sank down into hills, there wasa rush in the river, the barricades were removed from the windows andthe fur hangings pushed aside to let in some welcome light. 

Rose ran around wild. "I can recall last spring, " she said, with a burstof gayety. "The trees coming out in leaf, the birds singing, theblossoms----"

"And the garden, " interposed Destournier. 

Rose made a wry face. 

"It will be an excellent thing for you to run about out of doors. Youhave lost your rosy cheeks. "

"But I am Rose still, " she said archly. 

She ran gayly one day, she went up the stream in the canoe withDestournier and was full of merriment. But the next day she feltstrangely languid. Most of the men had gone hunting. Mère Dubray waspiling away some of the heaviest furs. 

"Thou wilt roast there in the chimney corner, " she said rather sharply. "Get thee out of doors in the fresh air again. It is silly to think onecannot stir without a troop of men tagging to one. Thou art too youngfor such folly. "

"My legs ache, " returned the child, "and my head feels queer and goesround when I stir. And I am sleepy, as if there had not been any night. "

Mère Dubray glanced at her sharply. 

"Why, thy cheeks are red and thy eyes bright. Come, stir about or Ishall take a stick to thee. That will liven thee up. "

The child rose and made a few uncertain steps. Then she flung out herhands wildly, and the next instant fell in a little heap on the floor. 

The elder looked at her in amaze and shook her rather roughly by thearm. And now the redness was gone and the child had a strange gray look, with her eyes rolled up so that only a little of the pupil showed. 

"Saint Elizabeth have mercy!" she cried. "The child is truly ill. Andshe has been so well and strong. And the doctor gone up to Tadoussac!"

She laid her on the rude couch. Rose began to mutter and then broke intoa pitiful whine. There were some herbs that every householder gathered, there were secrets extorted from the squaws much more efficacious thanthose of their medicine men. The little hand was burning hot; yes, itwas fever. There had been scurvy and dysentery, but she was a littlenon-plussed by the fever. And the Sieur would not be here untilto-morrow; the doctor, no one knew when. 

She took out her chest of simples, a quaintly-made birchen-barkreceptacle. They had been carefully labelled by the doctor. Yes, herewas "fever"--here another. Which to take puzzled her. 

"I might try first one and then the other, " she ruminated. "I would getthe good of both. And they might not mix well. "

She boiled some water and poured it over the herbs. It diffused abitter, but not unpleasant flavor. Then she put it out of doors to cool. 

Rose was sleeping heavily, but her eyes were half open and it startledMère Dubray. 

"A child is a great responsibility, " she moaned to herself. "If theSieur were only here, or the doctor!" She woke her presently andadministered the potion. But it brought on a desperate sickness. 

"Perhaps I had better try the other. " She took the hot, limp hand, thecheeks were burning, but great drops of perspiration stood out on theforehead. She twisted the soft hair in a knot and struck one of herhighly-prized pins through it, then she thought a night-cap would bebetter. Only they would be a world too large for the child. But shesucceeded in pinning it to the right shape, though she grudged the twopins. They were a great rarity in those days, and if one was lost hourswere spent hunting it up. 

The second dose fared better. There was nothing to do but let the childsleep. She busied herself about the few household cares, studied theweather and the signs of spring. Oh, was that a bird! Surely he wasearly with his song. The river went rushing on joyously, leaping, foaming as if glad to be unchained. The air had softened marvellously. Ah, why should one be ill when spring had come!

The kindly Mère repeated her dose. Towards night the fever seemed toabate, but the child was desperately restless and the worthy woman muchtroubled. Yet what was the child to her? to any one? And death was sureto come sometime. She would be spared much trouble. She would also losemuch happiness. But was there any great share of it in this new world?

Rose was no better the next day. The nausea returned and clearly she wasout of her head. But late this afternoon the Sieur and the young guestreturned and were so much alarmed they dispatched an Indian servitorwith instructions to bring the doctor at once. 

"A pretty severe case, " he said, with a grave shake of the head. "Youhave done the best you could, Mère Dubray, and children have wonderfulrecuperative powers. So we will try. "

"Poor, pretty little thing, " thought Destournier. "Will she findanything worth living for?" Women had so few opportunities in thosetimes. And when one was poor and unknown, and in a strange country. Yethe could not bear to think of her dying. There was always a hopefulfuture to living. 

CHAPTER II

THE JOY OF FRIENDSHIP

She went down to the very boundaries of the other country, this littleRose. One night and one day they gave her up. She lay white and silentand Mère Dubray brought out a white muslin dress and ironed it up, muchtroubled to know whether she had a right to Christian burial or not. 

And then she opened her eyes with their olden light and began to ask ina weak voice what happened to her yesterday, and found her lastremembrance was six weeks agone. 

She could hardly raise her thin little hand, but all the air was sweetwith growing things. The tall trees had come into rich leafage, thesunshine glowed upon the grass that danced as if each blade wasfairy-born, and sparkled on the river that went hurrying by as if totell a wonderful story. The great craggy upper town glinted in athousand varying tints, and at evening was wreathed in trailing miststhat seemed some strange army marching across. The thickly wooded hillswere nodding and smiling to each other, some native fruit trees were inbloom, and the air was delicious with the scent of wild-grapefragrance. 

"It was a bad fever. And we had no priest to call upon. As if peoplehere did not need one as well as in that wild place with a long namewhere they are hunting copper and maybe gold. But thanks to the saintsand the good doctor, you have come through. Ah, we ought to have achapel at least where one could go and pray. "

"It is so beautiful and sweet. One would not want to be put in theground. "

She shuddered thinking of it. 

"No, no! And M. Pontgrave has come in with two ships. There is plenty ofprovisions and fruits from La Belle France. See, M'sieu Ralph broughtthem in for you. Now you have only to get well. "

Mère Dubray's face was alight with joy. The child smiled faintly. 

"And the Sieur de Champlain?" she asked. 

"Oh, he is as busy as any two men with plans for building up the town, and workmen, and some women for wives--two of whom are married already, though one couple did their courting on shipboard. Oh, you must soon getabout. We are going to have a rare summer. "

The child raised herself up a trifle and then sank back. 

"Oh, dear!" with a little cry. 

"Do not mind, _ma petite_. People are always so at first. To-morrowmaybe you can sit up, and a few days after walk. And then go out. "

"The world is so lovely and sweet, " she murmured. And she was glad shehad not died. 

The next day M'sieu Ralph came in. He appeared changed some way, but theold smile was there. The eyes seemed to have taken on a deeper bluetint. She stretched out her hands. 

"Thank the good God that you are restored, little one, " he exclaimed, with deep fervor. "Only you are a shadow of the Rose who climbed rockslike a joyous kid less than a year agone. When will you pilot me again?"

She drew a long breath like a sigh. 

"And there have been so many happenings. There are new people, though nolittle girls among them, for which I am sorry. And already they arebuilding houses. The Sieur de Champlain has great plans. He will have afine city if they work. Why, when thou art an old lady and goest dressedin silks and velvets and furs, as the women of the mother country, thouwilt have rare stories to tell to thy grandchildren. And no doubt thouwilt have seen Paris as well. "

Then she smiled, but it was a pitiful attempt. 

It was true Quebec had received a wonderful hastening in the new-comersand in several grants the King had made concerning the fur trade. Thedreary winter was a thing of the past. 

Destournier came in the next day and insisted the child should bewrapped up and carried out in the sunshine. She seemed light as a babywhen he took her in his arms. He seated himself on a bench and held herclosely wound up in Mère's choicest blanket she had brought from St. Malo, and which had been woven by her grandmother. 

Ah, how lovely that savage primeval beauty looked to the child, who feltmore than she could understand. Every pulse seemed instinct with newlife. The gardens with their beds of vegetables, the tall slim spikes ofonions which everybody had been requested to plant plentifully, thefeathery leaves of the young carrots, the beans already in white bloom, the sword-like leaves of the corn hardly long enough to wave as yet, andthe river with boats and canoes--why, it had never been so brisk andwonderful before. 

She drew in long breaths of health-giving fragrance. There had been sometrouble with the Indians and the Sieur de Champlain had gone to chastisethem. There were fur-traders on the way and soon everything would bestirring with eager business. And when she could they would take a sailaround and up the St. Charles, and visit the islands, for besides Panithe Mère had another Indian boy the Sieur had sent her, so there wouldbe no gardening for the small, white Rose. And he had made a new friendfor her, who was waiting anxiously to see her. 

Presently she went soundly asleep in the fragrant air, and he carriedher back and laid her on the bed. Mère Dubray came and looked at her andshook her head. She was indeed a white Rose now. They had cut her hairwhen she had tangled it with her tossing about, and it was now a bed ofgolden rings, but the long lashes that were like a fringe on her cheekswere black. 

"It will take her a good while to get back all she has lost, " said theyoung man. "It is little short of a miracle that she is here. "

She gained a little every day. But she felt very shaky when she walkedabout, and light in the head. And then Destournier brought her a visitorone afternoon, a lady the like of whom the child had not dreamed of inher wildest imaginings, as she had listened to tales of royalty. A tall, fair woman whose bright hair was a mass of puffs and short dainty curlsheld by combs that sparkled with jewels, and the silken gown that wasstrewn with brocaded roses on a soft gray ground. It had dainty rufflesaround the bottom that barely reached her ankles, and showed the clockedand embroidered stockings and elegant slippers laced back and forth withgolden cord, and a buckle that sparkled with gems like the combs. Evenroyalty condescended to wear imitation jewels, so why should not thelower round? Her shapely shoulders were half veiled by a gauze scarf onwhich were woven exquisite flowers. 

The child gazed with fascinated admiration. Did the Greek womenDestournier had read about, who won every heart, look like this?

"This is the lady I told you of, little one, who has lately come fromFrance, Madame Giffard. And this is Rose----" He paused suddenly with ahalf smile. "I believe the child has no other name. "

"Was she born here?" How soft and winning the voice was. 

Destournier flushed unconsciously. 

"She has a story and a mystery that no one has fathomed. The Sieur madesome inquiries. A woman of the better class who came over with someemigrants brought her, and was supposed to be her mother. But somesecret lay heavy on her mind, it seemed, and when she was dying sheconfessed that the child was not hers, but she had no time forexplanations. The husband brought her here and has gone to one of thefur stations. His disappointment was so intense he gave up the child. And so--her name is neither Arlac nor Dubray. We shall have torechristen her. "

"What a curious romance! If one knew what town she came from. Oh, mylittle one, will you let me be your friend? I had a little golden-hairedgirl who died when she was but four, and no children have come since togladden my heart. "

Madame Giffard bent over and took the small hand, noting the taperfingers and slender wrist that seemed to indicate good birth. Shepressed it to her lips. Rose looked up trustfully and smiled. 

"I like you, " she said, with frank earnestness. 

"Then I shall come to see you often. This is such a queer place with noready-made houses and really nothing but log huts or those made of roughslabs. I wonder now how I had the courage to come. But I could not beseparated from my dear husband. And when he makes his fortune we shallgo back to our dearly beloved France. "

The child smiled. The story had no embarrassment for her--Catherine hadbrought her from France and she had never called her mother until onshipboard. Back of it was vague and misty, though Catherine was in itall. But this beautiful woman with her soft voice, different fromanything she had ever heard--why, she liked her already almost as muchas M'sieu Ralph. 

"And you have been ill a long while?"

"It seemed only a day when I first woke up. Then the snow was on theground. I was so cold. I wanted to go to sleep on the chimney seat andMère would not let me. And now everything is in bloom and the garden isplanted and the sun shines in very gladness. I shall never like winteragain, " and she shuddered. 

"Are the winters so dreadful?" she inquired of Destournier. 

"I never knew anything like it. I can't understand why the Sieur deChamplain should want to found a city here when the country south is somuch more congenial. Although this is the key to the North, as he says. And there is a north to the continent over there. "

"You think there are fortunes to be made?"

"For those who come to make them. But the mother country will squeezehard. We have not found the gold and silver yet. But after all, trade isyour best pioneer. And this is an era of exploring, of fame, rather thanmoney-getting. We are just coming to know there are other sides to theworld. Ah, here is Mère Dubray. "

The child glanced from one woman to the other. She saw the samedifference as there was between the workmen and the few of the betterclass. Was it knowledge such as M'sieu Ralph had? And the good-heartedhome-making Mère scouted learning for women. Their business was cookingand keeping the house. But she decided she liked the lady the best, justas she liked M'sieu Ralph better than the brawny leathern- and fur-cladworkmen. But the Mère had been very good and never scolded her now. 

She brought in some little cakes and a glass of beer brewed from rootsand herbs. Madame Giffard thanked her and sipped it delicately. Somevague memory haunted the child, as if she had seen this lady before withthe dead Catherine. 

"It is a wild, wild country. There is nothing like it in France, " thelady said, in a tone of disparagement. "And how one is to live----"

"You were not in France two or three centuries ago, " he returnedgood-naturedly. "Most countries go through this period. Beginnings arenot always agreeable. "

"But I cannot admit this is a city. Yet they talk about it at home. Thefurs are certainly fine. But the Indians! You are in fear of them allthe time. And if they should make an attack here?"

"They will hardly dare now. Indeed one Indian tribe is practically wipedout. And the fortifications are to be strengthened. We manage to keepquite friendly, though we do not trust too far. "

"But it is horrible to live in perpetual fear, " and she shuddered. 

"You must not look on that side of it. It is a hard country for women, Ishall have to admit. "

"But I have not come to stay, thank the saints. A year maybe at thelongest. My husband is to go back when he has--what you callit--established his claim--concession. We like sunny France the best. Only one wants a fortune to enjoy it. "

"That is true, too. But here one can do without. At least a mancan"--laughing a little as he surveyed the dainty figure. 

"A year, " repeated the child. "How long is a year?"

Mère Dubray had been standing in the doorway, waiting to take the cupwhen my lady had finished. Now she said in an unemotional tone--

"It is a summer and a winter. It was last May when Jean Arlac broughtyou here. "

The child nodded thoughtfully and there came a far-away expression inher eyes. 

"Jean Arlac went up to the fur country, " she said to the guest. 

"Does he return when the furs come in?"

She glanced at Mère Dubray, who shook her head. 

"He comes back no more. He has married an Indian woman. But my husbandwill be here. "

"Does M. Gifford desire to go out himself?"

"That is his plan, I believe. Can he get back before winter?"

"Oh, yes, or by that time. "

"I shall come often to see the little one. And when they have finishedthe--the hut, the child must come often to me. I have brought somefurnishings and pictures and a few books. There is much more in the oldchâteau, and my aunt is there to take care of it. But I wanted some oldfriends about me. "

At the mention of books Rose had glanced up eagerly at Destournier. Thenthere was a sudden rush without. Both Indian boys were racing andyelling in their broken language. 

"They are coming; they are coming! The canoes are in, " and both began tocaper about. 

Mère Dubray took down a leathern thong and laid it about them; but theywere like eels and glided out of her reach. 

"One was bad enough, but I could manage him. The other"--and she gaveher shoulders a shrug. 

The lady laughed. "That is like home, " she said. 

"It is quite a sight. And I hope you will not be frightened, for thenext few days. I had better escort you back, I think, for there will bea crowd. "

They were guests of M. De Champlain, who had quite comfortablequarters. Beside his governmental business he was much engrossed with ahistory of his journeys and explorations and the maps he was making. Allthe furnishings were plain, as became a hardy soldier who often sleptout in the open. But the keeping room already showed some traces of awoman's love for adornment. He looked rather grim over it, but made nocomment. 

"I will come again to-morrow. " Madame Giffard pressed a kiss upon thewhite forehead. The child grasped her hand with convulsive warmth. 

An hour had changed the aspect of everything. Instead of the quiet, deserted, winding ways, you could hardly call them streets, everythingseemed alive with a motley, moving throng. A long line of boats, andwhat one might call a caravan, seemed to have risen from the very earth, or been evolved from the wilderness. There were shouting and singing, white men turned to brown by exposure, Indians, half-breeds of varyingshades, and attire that was really indescribable. 

"Is it an attack?" and Madame Giffard clung to her guide in affright. 

He laughed reassuringly. 

"It is only the awakening of Quebec after its long hibernation. Theyhave been expected some days. Ah, now you will see the true businessside and really believe the town flourishing, be able to carry a goodreport back to France. "

They looked over the land side from the eminence of the fortifications. Quebec did not mean to admit these roisterers within her precincts, which were none too well guarded. Still the cannons looked ratherformidable from their embrasures. But as little would these lawless menhave cared to be under the guard of the soldiery. 

They seemed to come to a pause. Indians and half-breeds threw down theirpacks. Some sat on them and gesticulated fiercely, as if on the verge ofa quarrel. A few, who seemed the leaders, went about ordering, pointingto places where a few stakes had been driven. Great bundles wereunpacked, a centre pole reared, and a tent was in progress. 

"Why, it is like a magic play, " and she clapped her hands in eagerdelight. "Will they live here? Oh, where is Laurent, I wonder. He oughtto see this. "

"They will live here a month or so. Some of the earlier ones will goaway, new ones come. The company's furs will be packed and loaded onvessels for France, but there are plenty of others who trade on theirown account. There will be roistering and drinking and quarrelling anddickering, and then the tents will be folded and packed and the throngtake up their march for the great north again, and months of hunting. "

It was fascinating to watch them. They were building stone fireplacesoutside and kindling fires. Here some deft hands were skinning a mooseor a deer and placing portions on a rude spit. And there was the Sieurde Champlain and a dozen or so of armed soldiers, he holding parley withsome of the leaders. 

"Oh, there is M. Giffard, " she cried presently. "And look--arethere--women?"

"Squaws. Oh, yes. "

"Do they travel, I mean come from the fur country? What a long journeyit must be for them. "

"They do not mind. They are nomads of the wilderness. You know theIndians never build towns as we do. Some of them settle for months untilthe hunting gives out, then they are off on a new trail. "

"What queer people. One would think the good missionaries would civilizethem, teach them to be like--can they civilize them?"

"After centuries, perhaps"--dryly. 

"Is all this country theirs?"

"Well"--he lifted his eyebrows in a queer, humorous fashion. "The Kingof France thinks he has a right to what his explorers discover; the Kingof England--well, it was Queen Elizabeth, I believe, who laid claim to aportion called Virginia. She died, but the English remain. Their colonyis largely recruited from their prisons, I have heard. Then his Spanishmajesty has somewhat. It is a great land. But the French set out to savesouls and convert the heathen savages into Christian men. They have madefriends with some of the tribes. But they are not like the people ofEurope, rather they resemble the barbarians of the north. And theChurch, you know, has labored to convert them. "

"How much men know!" she said, with a long sigh of admiration. 

The sun was dropping down behind the distant mountains, pine- andfir-clad. She had never looked upon so grand a scene and was filled witha tremulous sort of awe. Up there the St. Charles river, here themajestic St. Lawrence, islands, coves, green points running out in thewater where the reedy grass waved to and fro, tangles of vines and wildflowers. And here at their feet the settlement that had just sprung intoexistence. 

"You must be fatigued, " he said suddenly. "Pardon my forgetfulness. Ihave been so interested myself. "

"Yes, I am a little tired. It has been such a strange afternoon. Andthat poor little girl, Monsieur--does that woman care well for her? Shehas the coarseness of a peasant, and the child not being her own----"

"Oh, I think she is fairly good to her. We do not expect all the graceshere in the wilderness. But I could wish----"

Madame Gifford stumbled at that moment and might have gone over a ledgeof rock, and there were many there, but he caught her in strong arms. 

"How clumsy!" she cried. "No, I am not hurt, thanks to you. I waslooking over at that woman with something on her back that resembles achild. "

"Yes, a papoose. That is their way of carrying them. "

"Poor mother! She must get very weary. "

They threaded their way carefully to the citadel. The guard nodded andthey passed. An Indian woman was bringing in a basket of vegetables andthere was a savory smell of roasting meat. 

"Now you are safe, " he said. "The Sieur would have transported me toFrance or hung me on the ramparts if any evil had happened to you. "

He gave a short laugh as if he had escaped a danger, but there was agleam of mirth in his eyes. 

"A thousand thanks, M'sieu. Though I can't think I was in any greatdanger. And another thousand for the sweet little girl. I must see agood deal of her. "

The room she entered was within the double fortification and its windowswere securely barred. The walls were of heavy timbers stained justenough to bring out the beautiful grain. But some of the dresseddeerskins were still hanging and there were festoons of wampum, curiously made bead and shell curtains interspersed with gun racks, great moose horns and deer heads, and antlers. Tables and chairscuriously made and a great couch big enough for a bed. 

But the adjoining room was the real workroom of the Sieur. Here were hisbooks, he brought a few more every time he came from France; shelves ofcuriosities, a wide stone fireplace, with sundry pipes of Indian make onthe ledges. A great table occupied the centre of the room and all aboutit were strewn papers, --maps in every state, --plans for the city, plansof fortifications, diagrams of the unsuccessful settlements, and the newproject of Mont Réal. Notes on agriculture and the propagation offruits, for none better than the Sieur understood that the colony mustin some way provide its own food, that it could not depend uponsustenance from the mother country. For his ambition desired to make NewFrance the envy of the nations who had tried colonizing. He orderedcrops of wheat and rye and barley sown, and often worked in his ownfield when the moon shone with such glory that it inspired him. Andthough he had all the ardor of an explorer, he meant to turn the profitsof trade to this end, but to further it settlements were necessary, andhe bent much of his energy to the duller and more trying task ofbuilding colonies. Though the route to the Indies fired his ambition hewas in real earnest to bring this vast multitude of heathens within thepale of the Church, and to do that he must be friendly with them as faras they could be trusted, but there were times when he almost lostfaith. 

CHAPTER III

SUMMER TIME

The child sat in a dream on a rude, squarely-built settle with a coarseblanket on it of Indian make and some skins thrown over the back, foroften at sundown the air grew cool and as yet women were not spinning orweaving as in old France. A few luxuries had been brought thither, butthe mother government had a feeling that the colonists ought mostly toprovide for themselves, and was often indifferent to the necessarydemands. 

Mère Dubray went out to the kitchen and began to prepare supper. Therewas a great stone chimney with a bench at each side, and for a fireplacetwo flat stones that would be filled in with chunks of wood. When theblaze had burned them to coals the cooking began. Corn bread baked onboth sides, sometimes rye or wheaten cakes, a kettle boiled, though thehome-brewed beer was the common drink in summer, except among those whoused the stronger potions. The teas were mostly fragrant herbs, thoughtto be good for the stomach and to keep the blood pure. 

Mère Dubray dressed half a dozen birds in a trice. It was true that inthe summer they could live on the luxuries of the land in somerespects. Fish and game of all kinds were abundant, and as there werebut few ways of keeping against winter it was as well to feast while onecould. They dried and smoked eels and some other fish, and salted them, but they had learned that too much of this diet induced scurvy. 

The birds were hung on an improvised spit, with a pan below to catch thedrippings with which they were basted. Between whiles the worthy womanunexpectedly bolted out to the garden with a switch in her hand and laidit about the two Indian boys, who did not bear it with the stoicism oftheir race, as they learned the greater the noise the shorter theirpunishment. 

The little girl did not heed the screams or the shrill scolding, or eventhe singing of the birds that grew deliciously tender toward nightfall. She often watched the waving branches as the wind blew among them untilit seemed as if they must be alive, bending over caressing each otherand murmuring in low tones. If she could only know what they said. Ofcourse they must be alive; she heard them cry piteously in winter whenthey were stripped of their covering. Why did God do it? Why did He sendwinter when summer was so much better, when people were merry and happyand could hunt and fish and wander in the woods and fight Indians? Shehad not had much of an idea of God hitherto only as a secret charmconnected with Mère Dubray's beads, but now it was some great powerliving beyond the sky, just as the Indians believed. You could only gothere by growing cold and stiff and being put in the ground. She shrankfrom that thought. 

Something new had come in her life now. There was a vague, confused ideaof gods and goddesses, that she had gathered from the Latin verses thatshe no more understood than the language. And this must be one thatdescended upon her this afternoon. The soft, sweet voice still lingeredin her ears, entrancing her. The graceful figure that was like somedelicate swaying branch, the attire the like of which she had never evendreamed of. How could she indeed, when the finest things she had seenwere the soldiers' trappings?

And this beautiful being had kissed her. Only once she remembered beingkissed, but Catherine's lips were so cold that for days when she thoughtof it she shuddered and connected it with that mysterious going away, that horrid, underground life. This was warm and sweet and strange, likethe nectar of flowers she had held to her lips. Oh, would the lovelybeing come again? But M'sieu Ralph had said so, and what he promisedcame to pass. There was a sudden ecstasy as if she could not wait, as ifshe could fly out of the body after her charmer. Whither was she going?Oh, M'sieu Ralph would know. But could she wait until to-morrow?

Into this half-delirious vision broke the strong, rather harsh voicethat filled her for an instant with a curious hate so acute that if shehad been large enough, strong enough, she would have thrust the womanout of doors. 

"Oh, have you been asleep? Your eyes look wild. And your cheeks! Is itthe fever coming back again? That chatter went through my head. And tobe gowned as if she were going to have audience with the Queen! I don'tknow about such things. There is a King always--I suppose there must bea Queen. "

The child had recovered herself a little and the enraptured dream wasslipping by. 

"And here is your supper. Such a great dish of raspberries, and somejuice pressed out for wine. And the birds broiled to a turn. Here is alittle wheaten cake. The Sieur sent the wheat and it is a great rarity. And now eat like a hungry child. "

She raised her up and put a cushion of dried hay at her back. The foodwas on a small trencher with a flat bottom, and was placed on the settlebeside her. 

"No, no, the tea first, " she said, holding a birch-bark cup to her lips. 

Rose made a wry face, but drank it, nevertheless. Then she took theraspberry juice, which was much pleasanter. 

"Yes, a great lady, no doubt. We have few of them. This is no place forsilken hose and dainty slippers, and gowns slipping off the shoulders, and my lady will soon find that out. I wondered at M. Destournier. Thesaints forbid that we should import these kind of cattle to NewFrance. "

"She is very sweet"--protestingly. 

"Oh, yes. So is the flower sweet, and it drops off into withered leaves. And her eyes looked askance at M'sieu Ralph, yet she hath a husband. Come, eat of thy bird and bread, and to-morrow maybe thou wilt run aboutlest thy limbs stiffen up to a palsy. "

"Mistress, mistress, " called Pani--"here is a man to see thee. "

She went through both rooms. The man stood without, rather rough, unkempt, with buckskin breeches, fringed leggings, an Indian blanket, agrizzled beard hanging down on his breast, and his tousled hair wellsprinkled with white; his face wrinkled with the hardships he had passedthrough, but the gray-blue eyes twinkled. 

"Ha! ha!" A coarse, but not unfriendly laugh finished the greeting as hecaught both hands in an impetuous embrace. "Lalotte, old girl, has thymemory failed in two years? Or hast thou gotten another husband?"

The woman gave a shriek of mingled surprise and delight. "The saints bepraised, it is Antoine. And how if thou hast taken some Indian woman towife? Braves do not consort with white women who cannot be made intoslaves, " she answered, with spirit. 

"Lalotte, thou wert hard to win in those early days. But now a dozengood kisses with more flavor in them than Burgundy wine, and I willprove to you I am the same old Antoine. And then--but thy supper smellis good to a hungry man. And a dish of shallots. It takes a man back toold Barbizon. "

Stout and strong as was Madame Dubray, her husband almost kissed thebreath out of her body in his rapturous embrace. 

"But I had no word of your coming----"

"How could you, pardieu! But you knew the traders were coming in. And aman can't send messengers hundreds of miles. "

"I looked last year----"

"Pouf! There are men who stay five or ten years, and have left a wife inFrance. You can't blame them for taking a new one when you are invitedto. It is a wild, hard life, but not worse than a soldier's. And whenyou are your own master the hardships are light. But some of this goodsupper. "

"Out with you, " she said to the Indian boys, who had snatched a piece ofthe broiled fish. Then she put down a plate, took up two birds thatdripped delicious gravy, and a squirrel browned to a turn. From thecupboard beside the great stone chimney, so cunningly devised that noone would have suspected it, she brought forth a bottle of wine from theold world, her last choice possession, that she had dreamed of savingfor Antoine, and now her dream had come true. 

There was much to tell on both sides, though her life had beencomparatively uneventful. He related incidents of his wilder experiencesfar away from civilization that he had grown to enjoy in its perfectfreedom that often lapped over into lawlessness. And he ate untilsquirrel, fish, and the cakes, both of rye and corn, had disappeared. The slave boys fared ill that night. 

Rose had eaten her supper more daintily. The great pile of raspberrieswas a delight; large, luscious; melting in one's mouth without the aidof sugar, and being picked up with the fingers. She had been startled atthe sudden appearance of the husband she had heard talked of, but ofcourse not seen. His loud voice grated on her ears, made more sensitiveby illness, and when, a long while after, the pine torch that wasflaring in the kitchen defined his brawny frame as he stood in thedoorway, she wanted to scream. 

"Oh--what have you here--a ghost?" he asked. 

"A child who was left here more than a year ago. Jean Arlac lost hiswife, and not knowing what to do with her--she was not his ownchild--left her here. He went out with the fur-hunters. "

"Jean Arlac!" Antoine scratched among his rough locks as if to assisthis memory. "Yes. And on the way he picked up a likely Indian girl whohas given him a son. And he saddled her on you?"

"Oh, the Sieur will look after her--perhaps take her back to France, "she answered, indifferently. 

"The best place for her, no doubt. She looks a frail reed. And womenneed strength in this new world. A little infusion of Indian blood willdo no harm. I wouldn't mind a son myself, but a girl--pouf!"

The child was glad he would not want her. She turned her face to thewall. She had not known what loneliness was before, but now she felt itthrough all her body, like a great pain. 

On the opposite side of the room was another settle, part of whichturned over and was upheld by drawing out two rounds of logs. MèreDubray made up the wider bed now, and soon Antoine was snoring lustily. At first it frightened the child, though she was used to the screech ofthe owl that spent his nights in the great walnut tree inside thepalisade. 

Was it a dream, she wondered the next morning. She slept soundly at lastand late and found herself alone in the house. She put on her simplefrock and went to the doorway. Ah, what a splendid glowing morning itwas! The sunshine lay in golden masses and fairly gilded the green ofthe maize, the waving grasses, the bronze of the trees, and the riverthrew up lights and shadows like birds skimming about. 

No one was in the garden. The table had been despoiled to the lastcrumb. Even the cupboard had been ransacked and all that remained wassome raw fish. She was not hungry and the fragrant air was reviving. Itseemed to speed through every pulse. Why, she suddenly felt strongagain. 

She wandered out of the enclosure and climbed the steps, sitting downnow and then and drawing curious breaths that frightened her, they cameso irregularly. There were workmen building additional fortificationsaround the post, there were houses going up. It was like a strangeplace. She reached the gallery presently and looked over what wassometime to be the city of Quebec. The long stretch was full of tentsand tepees and throngs of men of every description, it would seem;Indians, swarthy Spaniards who had roamed half round the world, Frenchfrom the jaunty trader, with a certain air of breeding, down to therough, unkempt peasant, who had been lured away from his native landwith visions of an easily-made fortune and much liberty in New France, and convicts who had been given a choice between death and expatriation. Great stacks of furs still coming in from some quarter, haranguing, bargaining, shouting, coming to blows, and the interference of soldiers. Was it so last summer when she sometimes ran out with Pani, though shehad been forbidden to?

It was growing very hot up here. The sun that looked so glorious throughthe long stretches of the forest and played about the St. Lawrence as ifin a game of hide-and-seek with the boats, grew merciless. All the airwas full of dancing stars and she was so tired trying to reach out tothem, as if they were a stairway leading up to heaven, so that one neednot be put in the dark, wretched ground. Oh, yes, she could find theway, and she half rose. 

It seemed a long journey in the darkness. Then there was a coolness onher brow, a soft hand passed over it, and she heard some murmuring, caressing words. She opened her eyes, she tried to rise. 

"Lie still, little one, " said the voice that soothed and somehow made iteasy to obey. She was fanned slowly, and all was peace. 

"Did you climb up to the gallery all alone? And yesterday you seemed soweak, so fragile. "

"I wanted--some one. They had all gone----"

"Quebec looks like a besieged camp. Laurent, that is my husband, " with abright color, "said I could see it from the gallery, and that itresembled a great show. I went out and found you. At first I thought youwere dead. But the Indian woman, Jolette is her Christian name, but Ishould have liked Wanamee better, carried you in here and after a whilebrought you to. But I thought sure you were dead. Poor little whiteRose! Truly named. "

"But once I had red cheeks, " in a faint voice. 

"Then thou wouldst have been a red Rose. "

She sang a delicious little chanson to a red rose from a lover. Thechild sighed in great content. 

"Were they good to you down there? That woman seemed--well, hard. Andwere you left all alone?"

Rose began to tell the story of how the husband came home, and MadameGiffard could see that she shrank from him. "And when she woke they hadall gone away. There was nothing to eat. "

"Merci! How careless and unkind!" But Madame Giffard could not know thelittle slave boys had ransacked the place. 

"I was not hungry. And it was so delightful to walk about again. ThoughI trembled all over and thought I should fall down. "

"As you did. Now I have ordered you some good broth. And you must liestill to get rested. "

"But it is so nice to talk. You were so beautiful yesterday I wasafraid. I never saw such fine clothes. "

Madame Giffard was in a soft gray gown to-day that had long wrinkledsleeves, a very short waist, and a square neck filled in with rufflesthat stood up in a stiff fashion. She looked very quaint and pretty, more approachable, though the child felt rather than understood. 

"Are there no women here, and no society? Merci! but it is a strangeplace, a wilderness. And no balls or dinners or excursions, with gaylittle luncheons? There is war all the time at home, but plenty ofpleasure, too. And what is one to do here!"

"The Indians have some ball games. But they often fight at the end. "

The lady laughed. What a charming ripple it was, like the falls here andthere, and there were many of them. 

"Not that kind, " she said, in her soft tone that could not wound thechild. "A great room like a palace, and lights everywhere, hundreds ofcandles, and mirrors where you see yourself at every turn. Then festoonsof gauzy things that wave about, and flowers--not always real ones, theyfade so soon. And the men--there are officers and counts and marquises, and their habiliments are--well, I can't describe them so you wouldunderstand, but a hundred times finer than those of the Sieur deChamplain. And the women--oh, if I had worn a ball dress yesterday, youwould have been speechless. "

She laughed again gayly at the child's innocence. And just then Wanameecame in with the broth. 

"Madame Dubray's husband has come, " nodding to the child. 

"Yes, yesterday, just at night. "

"He has great stores, they say. He is shrewd and means to make money. But there will be no quiet now for weeks. And it will hardly be safe toventure outside the palisades. "

Jolette had been among the first converts, a prisoner taken in one ofthe numerous Indian battles, rescued and saved from torture by the Sieurhimself, and though she had been a wife of one of the chiefs, she hadbeen beaten and treated like a slave. Champlain found her amenable tothe influences of civilization, and in some respects really superior tothe emigrants that had been sent over, though most of them were eagerlyseized upon as wives for the workmen. Frenchwomen were not anxious toleave their native land. 

Madame Giffard fed her small _protégée_ in a most dainty and enticingmanner. The little girl would have thought herself in an enchantedcountry if she had known anything about enchantment. But most of thestories she had heard were of Indian superstition, and so horrid shenever wanted to recur to them. Madame Dubray was much too busy to allowher thoughts to run in fanciful channels, and really lacked any sort ofimagination. 

After she had been fed she leaned back on the pillow again. Madame soonsang her to sleep. The child was very much exhausted and in the quietudeof slumber looked like a bit of carving. 

"Her eyelashes are splendid, " thought her watcher, "and her lips havepretty curves. There is something about her--she must have belonged togentle people. But she will grow coarse under that woman's training. "

She sighed a little. Did she want the child, she wondered. If Laurentcould make a fortune here in this curious land where most of thepopulation seemed barbarians. 

She drew from a work-bag a purse she was knitting of silken thread, andworked as she watched the sleeping child. Once she rose, but the viewfrom the window did not satisfy her, so she went out on the gallery. AFrench vessel was coming up into port, with its colors at half mast andits golden lilies shrouded with crape. Some important personage must bedead--was it the King?

She heard her husband's voice calling her and turned, took a few stepsforward. "Oh, what has happened?" she cried. 

"The King! Our heroic Béarnese! For though we must always regret hischange of religion, yet it was best for France and his rights. And awretched miscreant stabbed him in his carriage, but he has paid thepenalty. And the new King is but a child, so a woman will rule. There isno knowing what policies may be overturned. "

"Our brave King!" There were tears in her eyes. 

"They are loading vessels to return. Ah, what a rich country, even ifthey cannot find the gold the Spaniards covet. Such an array of choicefurs bewilders one, and to see them tossed about carelessly makes onealmost scream with rage. Ah, my lady, you shall have in the winter whatthe Queen Mother would envy. "

"Then you mean to stay"--uncertainly. 

"Yes, unless there should be great changes. I have not seen the Sieursince the news came. He was to go to Tadoussac the first of the week, and I had permission to go with him. One would think to-day that Quebecwas one of the most flourishing of towns, and it is hard to believe thecontrary. But every soldier is on the watch. They trust no one. Whathave you been doing, _ma mie_?"

"Oh, I have something to show you. Come. "

She placed her finger to her lips in token of silence and led him backto the room she had left. The child was still sleep. 

"What an angel, " he murmured. "Is it--how did it come here? I thoughtyou said the little girl was ill. "

"She was, and is. Doesn't she look like a marvellous statue? But no oneseems to regard her beauty here. "

"She is too delicate. "

"But she was well and strong and daring, and could climb like a deer, M. Destournier says. She will be well again with good care. I want to keepher. "

"She will be a good plaything for thee when I am away. Though this maychange many plans. The Sieur is bent on discoveries, and now he hasorders to print his book. The maps are wonderful. What a man! He shouldbe a king in this new world. France does not understand the mightyempire he is founding for her. "

"Then you do not mind--if I keep the child? She has crept into the emptyniche in my heart. I must have been directed by the saints when I feltthe desire to go out. She would have died from exhaustion in thebroiling sun. "

"Say the good Father, rather. "

"And yet we must adore the saints, the old patriarchs. Did not thedisciples desire to build a memento to them?"

"They were not such men as have disgraced the holy calling by fire andsword and persecution. And if one can draw a free breath in this newland. The English with all their faults allow freedom in religion. It isthese hated Jesuits. And I believe they are answerable for the murder ofour heroic King. "

Wanamee summoned them to the midday repast. The plain walnut boardsthat formed the table had been polished until the beautiful grain andthe many curvings were brought out like the shades of a painting. If thedishes were a motley array, a few pieces of silver and polished pewterwith common earthenware and curious cups of carved wood as well asbirch-bark platters, the viands were certainly appetizing. 

"One will not starve in this new country, " he said. 

"But it is the winter that tries one, M. Destournier says. "

"There must be plenty of game. And France sends many things. But acolony must have agricultural resources. And the Indian raids are sodestructive. We need more soldiers. "

He was off again to plunge in the thick of business. It was supposed thefur company and the concessions ruled most of the bargain-making, butthere were independent trappers who had not infrequently secured skinsthat were well-nigh priceless when they reached the hands of the Parisfurrier. And toward night, when wine and whiskey had been passed aroundrather freely, there were broils that led to more than one fatal ending. Indian women thronged around as well, with curious handiwork made intheir forest fastnesses. 

The child slept a long while, she was so exhausted. 

"Why, the sun is going over the mountains, " she began, in vague alarm. "I must go home. I did not mean to run away. "

She sprang up on her feet, but swayed so that she would have fallen hadnot Madame caught her. 

"Nay, nay, thou art not well enough to run away from me, little one. Iwill send word down to the cabin of Mère Dubray. She has her husband, whom she has not seen for two years, and will care naught for thee. Women are all alike when a man's love is proffered, " and she gave a gaylittle laugh. 

"My head feels light and swims around as if it was on the rapid river. But I must go home, I----"

"Art afraid? Well, I promise nothing shall harm thee. Lie down again. Iwill send Wanamee with the word. Will it make thee happy--content?"

The child looked at her hostess as if she was studying her, but herintellect had never been roused sufficiently for that. There was a vaguedelight stealing over her as slumber does at times, a confusion of whatmight have been duty if she had understood that even, in staying awayfrom what was really her home. Mère Dubray would be angry. She wouldhardly beat her, she had only slapped her once during her illness, andthat was to make her swallow some bitter tea. And something within herseemed to cry out for the adjuncts of this place. She had been in theroom before, she had even peered into the Sieur's study. He always had akindly word for her, she was different from the children of the workmen, and looked at one with sober, wondering eyes, as if she might fathommany things. 

"You do not want to go back?"--persuasively. 

Was it the pretty lady who changed the aspect of everything for her?

"Oh, if I could stay here always!" she cried, with a vehemence of moreyears than had passed over her head. "It is better than the beautifulworld where I sit on the rocks and wonder, and dream of the great beyondthat goes over and meets the sky. There are no cruel Indians then, and Iwant to wander on and on and listen to the voices in the trees, theplash of the great river, and the little stream that plays against thestones almost like the song you sung. If one could live there always anddid not get hungry or cold----"

"What a queer, visionary child! One would not look for it in thesewilds. The ladies over yonder talk of them because it is a fashion, butwhen they ride through the parks and woods they want a train ofadmirers. And with you it is pure love. Could you love any one as you donature? Was any one ever so good to you that you could fall down attheir feet and worship them? Surely you do not love Madame Dubray?"

"M'sieu Ralph has been very kind. But you are like a wonderful flowerone finds now and then, and dares not gather it lest the gods of thewoods and trees should be angry. "

"But I will gather you to my heart, little one, " and she slipped downbeside the couch, encircling the child in her arms, and pressing kisseson brow and legs and pallid cheeks, bringing a roseate tint to them. 

"And you must love me, you must want to stay with me. Oh, there was alittle one once who was flesh of my flesh, on whom I lavished thedelight and tenderness of my soul, and the great Father took her. Hesent nothing in her place, though I prayed and prayed. And now I shallput you there. Surely the good God cannot be angry, for you have noone. "

She had followed a sudden impulse, and was not quite sure it was for thebest. Only her mother heart cried out for love. 

The child stared, motionless, and it dampened her ardor for the moment. She could not fathom the eyes. 

"Are you not glad? Would you not like to live with me?"

"Oh, oh!" It was a cry of rapture. She caught the soft white hands andkissed them. The joy was so new, so unexpected, she had no words forit. 

CHAPTER IV

A HUSBAND

Lalotte Dubray had had the gala day of her life. Her peasant wedding hadbeen simple enough. The curé's blessing after the civil ceremony, thedance on the green, the going home to the one room in the small thatchedhut, the bunk-like bed along the wall, the two chests that answered forseats, a kitchen table, two shelves for a rude dresser, with dishes thathad been earned by the hardest toil, but they were better off than some, for there was a pig grunting and squealing outside, and a little garden. 

Times had grown harder and harder. Antoine had been compelled to jointhe army and fight for he knew not what. Then he had decamped, andinstead of being shot had been sent to New France. Lalotte was willingenough to go with him. 

Hard as it was, it bettered their fortunes. He had gone out once as asort of servant and handy man to the company. Then he had struck out forhimself. He was shrewd and industrious, and did not mind hard work, norhardships. 

Now he was in the lightest of spirits. He had some choice furs that wereeagerly snapped up. The Indian women had been shrewd enough to arrangetempting booths, where frying fish and roasted birds gave forth anappetizing fragrance. There were cakes of ground maize baked on hotstones, and though Champlain had used his best efforts to keep somerestraint on spirituous liquors, there were many ways of evading. 

Lalotte was fairly stupefied with amazement at her husband's prosperity. 

"Why, you are rich with that bag of money, " she cried. "I never saw somuch. "

He laughed jovially. "Better than standing up to be shot--he! he!Jacques Lallemont had the idea, and they wanted emigrants for New Francebad enough. Why don't they send more? The English understand better. _Sacré!_ But it is a great country. Only Quebec stays little, when itshould be a great place. Why can they not see?"

Lalotte could venture no explanation of that. She seemed to be in a mazeherself. 

Vessels were taking on cargoes of furs as soon as they were inspected. The river as far as Tadoussac looked thriving enough. Antoine met oldfriends, but he was more level-headed than some, and did not get tipsy. Lalotte held her head higher than ever. 

When it was getting rather too rough they made their way out. 

"Oh, the child!" she exclaimed, with a sudden twinge of conscience. "Andthose wretched slave boys. If your back is turned they are in leaguewith the evil one himself. Baptism does not seem to drive it out. Whether the poor thing had her breakfast. "

"Let that alone. It was mighty cool in Jean Arlac to foist her on thee. And now that we have left the crowd behind and are comfortable in thestomach. "

"But the cost, Antoine. I could have gotten it for half!"

"A man may treat his wife, when he has not seen her for two years, " andhe gave a short chuckling laugh. "There has been a plan in my head, hatched in the long winter nights up at the bay. Why should man and wifebe living apart when they might be together? Thou hast a hot temper, Lalotte, but it will serve to warm up the biting air. "

"A hot temper!" resentfully. "Much of it you have taken truly! Two yearssoldiering--months in prison, and now two years again----"

He laughed good-humoredly, if it was loud enough to wake echoes. 

"The saints know how I have wished for the sound of your voice. Indianwomen there are ready enough to be a wife for six months, and thenperhaps some brave steals in at night and pouf! out goes your candle. "

"The sin of it!"--holding up both hands. 

"Sins are not counted in this wild land. But there are no old memories, no talks with each other. Oh, you cannot think how the loneliness almostfreezes up one's very vitals. And I said to myself--I will bringLalotte back with me. Why should we not share the same life and liveover together our memories of sunny France?--not always sunny, either. "

"To--take me with you"--gasping. 

"Yes, why not? As if a man cannot order his wife about!" he exclaimedjocosely, catching her around the waist and imprinting half a dozenkisses with smacks that were like an explosion. "Yes--I have sighed forthee many a night. There are high logs for firing, there are piles ofbearskins, thick and fleecy as those of our best sheep at home. There isenough to eat at most times, and with thy cookery, _ma mie_, a man wouldfeast. It is a rough journey, to be sure, but then thou wilt not refuse, or I shall think thou hast a secret lover. "

"The Virgin herself knows I shall be glad to go with thee, Antoine, " andthe tears of joy stood in her eyes. "There is nothing in all Quebec tocompare with thee. And heaven knows one sometimes grows hungry of awinter night, when food is scarce and one depends upon sleep to make itup. No, I should be happy anywhere with thee. "

They jogged along in a lover-like fashion, but they were not quite outof hearing of the din. At nightfall all dickering was stopped and guardsplaced about. But in many a tent there were drinking and gambling, andmore than one affray. 

They came to the small unpretentious cabin. The door stood wide open, and the shaggy old dog was stretched on the doorstep, dozing. No soulwas to be seen. 

"Where is the child, Britta? Why, she must have been carried off. Shecould not walk any distance. "

The dog gave a wise look and flicked her ear. Lalotte searched everynook. 

"Where could she have gone?" in dismay. 

"Let the child alone. What is she to us? Does Jean Arlac stay awakenights with trouble in his conscience about her? She was not his wife'schild and so nothing to him. What more is she to us? Come, get somesupper; I've not tasted such fried fish in an age as yours last night. "

"The fish about here has a fine flavor, that is true. Those imps ofboys, and not a stick of wood handy. Their skins shall be well warmed;just wait until I get at them. "

"Nay, I will get some wood. I am hungry as a bear in the thaw, when hecrawls out. "

But Lalotte, armed with a switch, began a survey of the garden. The workhad been neglected, that was plain. There under a clump of bushes layPani, sleeping, with no fear of retribution on his placid face. AndLalotte put in some satisfactory work before he even stirred. 

But he knew nothing of his compeer, only they had been down to the rivertogether. As for the child, when he returned she was gone. 

"Let the child alone, I say!" and Antoine brought his fist heavily downon the table. "Next thing you will be begging that we take her. Sincethe good Lord in His mercy has refrained from giving us any mouths tofeed, we will not fly in His face for those who do not concern us. Andthe puling thing would die on the journey and have to be left behind tofeed the wolves. Come! come! Attend to thy supper. "

The slim Indian convert was coming up the path. She was one of theAbenaqui tribe, and she had mostly discarded the picturesque attire. 

"The lady Madame Giffard sent me to say the girl is safe with her andwill not be able to return to-night. "

"So much the better, " growled Antoine, looking with hungry eyes on thefish browning before the coals. 

"Did she come and take her? I went with my husband to see the traders. "

"She has been very poorly, but is much better now. And miladithought----"

"Oh, yes, it is all right. Yes, I am glad, " nodding definitely, as ifthe matter was settled. She did not want to quarrel with Antoine about achild that was no kin to them, when he was so much like her old lover. He seemed to bring back the hopes of youth and a certain gayety to whichshe had long been a stranger. 

After enjoying his meal he brought out his pipe and stretched himself ina comfortable position, begging her to attend to him and let the slaveboy take the fragments. He went on to describe the settlement of thefur merchants and trappers at Hudson Bay, but toned down much of therudeness of the actual living. A few of the white women, wives of theleaders and the men in command, formed a little community. There wascard-playing and the relating of adventures through the long winterevenings, that sometimes began soon after three. Dances, too, Indianentertainments, and for daylight, flying about on snowshoes, andskating. There was a short summer. The Indian women were expert inmodelling garments--everything was of fur and dressed deerskins. 

Few knew how to read at that day among the seekers of fortune andadventurers, but they were shrewd at keeping accounts, nevertheless. There were certain regulations skilfully evaded by the knowing ones. 

No, it would never do to take the child. She had no real mother love forit, yet she often wondered whose child it might be, since it was notCatherine Arlac's? Strange stories about foundlings often came to lightin old France. 

The death of the King rather disorganized matters, for no one quite knewwhat the new order of things would be. The Sieur de Champlain sorrowedtruly, for he had ever been a staunch admirer of Henry of Navarre. Demont had not had his concession renewed and to an extent the fur tradehad been thrown open. Several vessels were eagerly competing for storesof Indian peltries, as against those of the company. Indeed it was aregular carnival time. One would think old Quebec a most prosperoussettlement, if judged only by that. But none of the motley crew wereallowed inside the palisades. The Sieur controlled the rough communitywith rare good judgment. He had shown that he could punish as well asgovern; fight, if need be, and then be generous to the foe. Indeed inthe two Indian battles he had won much prestige, and had frowned on thetorture of helpless prisoners. 

Madame Giffard besought her husband that evening to consent to hertaking the care of little Rose, at least while they remained in Canada, the year and perhaps more. 

"And that may unfit her for her after life. You will make a pet andplaything of her, and then it would be cruel to return her to this womanto whom it seems she was given. She may be claimed some day. "

"And if we liked her, might we not take her home with us? There seems nodoubt but what she came from France. Not that I could put any one quitein the place of my lost darling, but it will afford me much interestthrough the winter, which, by all accounts, is dreary. I can teach herto read--she hardly knows a French letter. M. Destournier has taken agreat interest in her. And she needs care now, encouragement to getwell. "

"Let us do nothing rash. The Sieur may be able to advise what is best, "he returned gently. He felt he would rather know more of the case beforehe took the responsibility. 

"She is so sweet, so innocent. She did not really know what love was, "and Madame laughed softly. "This Catherine Arlac must have been a maid, I think. Yes, I am sure she must have come from gentle people. She hasevery indication of it. "

"Well, thou canst play nurse a while and it will interest thee, and fillup thy lonely hours, for I have much to do and must take some journeysquite impossible for a woman. And then we will decide, if this woman isready to part with her. _Ma mie_, thou knowest I would not refuse theeany wish that was possible. "

"That is true, Laurent, " and she kissed him fondly. 

Destournier had been busy every moment of the day and had been closetedwith the Sieur until late in the evening. Champlain felt now that hemust give up an exploring expedition, on which his heart was set, andreturn to France, where large interests of the colony were at stake. There was much to be arranged. 

So it was not until the next morning that he found his way to the Dubrayhouse, and then he was surprised at the tidings. Lalotte was almost agirl again in her interest in the new plans. As soon as a sufficientnumber had sold their wares to make a journey safe from marauders theywould start for Hudson's Bay, while the weather was pleasant. Of coursethe child must be left behind. She had no real claim on them; neithercould she stand the journey. She was now with Madame Giffard. 

Thither he hurried. Little Rose had improved wonderfully, though she wasalmost transparently thin, and her eyes seemed larger and softer intheir mysterious darkness. Already love had done much for her. 

He told his story and the plans of the Dubrays. 

"Then I can stay here, " she cried with kindling eyes, reaching out hersmall hand as if to sign her right in Madame's. 

Madame's eyes, too, were joyous as she raised them in a sort ofgratitude to her visitor. 

"How strange it comes about, " she cried. "And now, M. Destournier, willyou learn all you can about this Catherine Arlac; where she came from inFrance, and if she was any sort of a trustworthy person? It may some daybe of importance to the child. "

"Yes, anything I can do to advance her interest you may depend on. Areyou happy, little one?"

"I could fly like a bird, I am so light with joy. But I would not flyaway from here. Oh, then I shall not have to go back! I was frightenedat M. Dubray. "

"I don't wonder. Yet these are the kind of men New France needs, who arenot afraid of the wilderness and its trials. The real civilizationfollows on after the paths are trodden down. Did you go out yesterday?"to the lady. 

"Only on the gallery. "

"That was safest. Such a crowd was fit only for Indian women, and someof them shrank from it, I noticed. You heard the news about the King?"

"The sad, sad news. Yes. "

"And the Sieur feels he must go back to France. "

"What is Quebec to do? And if there is an Indian raid? Oh, this new landis full of fears. "

"And think of the strifes and battles of the old world! Ah, if peacecould reign. Yet the bravest of men are in the forefront. "

Then he came over to the child. 

"Who brought you here yesterday?" he asked, with a smile. 

"I was all alone. I had nothing to eat. I wanted to get out in thesunshine. I walked, but presently I shook so, I crawled up on thegallery. And then----"

She looked wistfully at miladi, who took up the rest of the journey. 

"You were a brave little girl. But what if Madame had not chanced tocome out? Why, you might have died. "

The dark eyes grew humid. "It does not hurt to die, " she said slowly. "Only if you did not have to be put in the ground. "

"Don't talk of such things, " interposed Madame, with a half shudder. "You are going to get well now, and run about and show me the places youlove. And we can sail up to the islands and through the St. Charles, that looks so fascinating and mysterious, can we not?" smiling up atDestournier. 

"Oh, yes, a month will finish the trading, for the ships will want tostart with their freight, while the weather is fine. True, the Indiansand many of the _coureurs de bois_ will loiter about until the lastmoment. There is to be a great Indian dance, I hear. They generallybreak up with one that has a good deal of savagery in it, but this earlyone is quite mild, I have understood, and gives one an opportunity tosee them in their fine feathers and war paint. "

"Oh, it must be interesting. Would it be safe to go?" she inquired. 

"With a bodyguard, yes. Your husband and myself, and we might call inthe services of the Dubrays. Madame is a host in herself. And they areglad, it seems, to shift the care of the child on some one else, "lowering his voice. 

"You will not forget to inquire----"

"Why, there must be a record here. The Sieur has the name and addressesof all the emigrants, I think. There have not been many shiploads ofwomen. "

"She has no indication of peasant parentage. There is a curious delicacyabout her, but _merci!_ what wonderful and delightful ignorance. It islike a fallow field. Mère Dubray seems to have sown nothing in it. Oh, Ipromise myself rare pleasure in teaching her many things. "

"She has a quick and peculiar imagination. I am glad she has fallen intoother hands. Settling a new country is a great undertaking, especiallywhen one has but a handful of people and you have to uproot other habitsof life and thought. I wonder if one can civilize an Indian!" and helaughed doubtfully. 

"But it is to save their souls, I thought!"

"Yet some of them worship the same God that we do, only He is called theGreat Manitou. And they have an hereafter for the braves at least, ahappy hunting ground. But they are cruel and implacable enemies witheach other. And we have wars at home as well. It is a curious muddle, Ithink. You come from a Huguenot family, I believe. "

"My mother did. But she went with my father. There were no familydissensions. Does it make so much difference if one is upright andhonest and kindly?"

"Kindly. If that could be put in the creed. 'Tis a big question, " and hegave a sigh. "At least you are proving that part of the creed, " and hecrossed over to the child, chatting with her in a pleasant manner untilhe left them. 

That evening there was a serious discussion in the Sieur's study. Captain Chauvin was to return also, and who was most trustworthy to beput in command of the infant colony was an important matter. There hadbeen quite an acreage of grain sown the year before, maize waspromising, and a variety of vegetables had been cultivated. Meats andfish were dried and salted. They had learned how to protect themselvesfrom serious inroads of the scurvy. The houses in the post were beingmuch improved and made more secure against the rigors of the longwinter. 

An officer who had spent the preceding winter at the fort was put incommand, and the next day the garrison and the workmen were called inand enjoined to render him full obedience. 

Destournier and Gifford were to undertake some adventures in a northerlydirection, following several designated routes that Champlain hadexpected to pursue. Their journeys would not be very long. 

As for Rose, she improved every day and began to chatter delightfully, while her adoration of Madame Giffard was really touching, and filledhours that would otherwise have been very tedious. 

They had brought with them a few books. Madame was an expert atembroidery and lace-making, but was aghast when she realized her slenderstock of materials, and that it would be well-nigh a year before anycould come from France. 

"But there is bead work, and the Indian women make threads out ofgrasses, " explained Wanamee. "And feathers of birds are sewed aroundgarments and fringes are cut. Oh, miladi will find some employment forher fingers. "

Mère Dubray made no objection to accompanying them to the Indian dance. She had been to several of them, but they were wild things that onecould not well understand; nothing like the village dances at home. "Butwhat would you? These were savages!"

"I wish I could go, too, " the child said wistfully. "But I could notclimb about nor stand up as I used. When will I be able to run aroundagain?"

She was gaining every day and went out on the gallery for exercise. Shewas a very cheerful invalid; indeed miladi was so entertaining she wasnever weary when with her, and if her husband needed her, Wanamee cameto sit with the child. Rose knew many words in the language, as well asthat of the unfortunate Iroquois. 

All they had been able to learn about Catherine Arlac was that she hadcome from Paris to Honfleur, a widow, with a little girl. And Paris wassuch a great and puzzling place for a search. 

"But she is a sweet human rose with no thorns, and I must keep her, "declared miladi. 

Laurent Giffard made no demur. He was really glad for his wife to havean interest while he was away. 

The party threaded their way through the narrow winding paths that wereto be so famous afterward and witness the heroic struggle, when thelilies of France went down for the last time, and the heritage that hadcost so much in valiant endeavor and blood and treasure was signed away. 

There were flaming torches and swinging lanterns and throngs wending tothe part beyond the tents. The dance was not to pass a certain radius, where guards were stationed. Already there was a central fire of logs, around which the braves sat with their knees drawn up and their chinsresting upon them, looking as if they were asleep. 

"A fire this warm night, " said miladi, in irony. 

"We could hardly see them without it, " returned her husband. 

At the summons of a rude drum that made a startling noise, the bravesrose, threw down their blankets and displayed their holiday attire ofpaint, fringes, beads, and dressed deerskins with great headdresses offeathers. Another ring formed round them. One brave, an old man, cameforward, and gesticulating wildly, went through a series of antics. Oneafter another fell in, and the slow tread began to increase. Then shrillsongs, with a kind of musical rhythm, low at first, but growing louderand louder, the two or three circles joining in, the speed increasinguntil they went whirling around like madmen, shouting, thrusting at eachother with their brawny arms, until all seemed like a sudden frenzy. 

"Oh, they will kill each other!" almost shrieked Madame. 

"_Non, non_, but small loss if they did, " commented Madame Dubray. 

They paused suddenly. It seemed like disentangling a chain. Theconfusion was heightened by the cries and the dancing featherheaddresses that might have been a flock of giant birds. But presentlythey resolved into a circle again, and began to march to a slow chant. One young fellow seized a brand from the fire and began a wild gyration, pointing the end to the circle, at random, it seemed. Then another andanother until the lights flashed about madly and there was a scent ofburning feathers. The circle stood its ground bravely, but there wereshrieks and mocking laughter as they danced around, sometimes making alunge out at the spectators, who would draw back in affright, a signalfor roars of mirth. 

"They will burn each other up, " cried Madame. "Oh, let us go. The noiseis more than I can bear. And if they should attack us. Do you rememberwhat M. Du Parc was telling us?"

"I think we have had enough of it, " began M. Giffard. "They are said tobe very treacherous. What is to hinder them from attacking the whites?"

"The knowledge that they have not yet received any pay, and theirremaining stock would be confiscated. They are not totally devoid ofself-interest, and most of them have a respect for the fighting powersof the Sieur and his punishing capacity, as well. "

As they left the place the noise seemed to subside, though it was likethe roar of wild animals. 

"Am I to remain here all winter with these savages? Can I not returnwith M. De Champlain?" pleaded Madame Giffard. 

"Such a time would be almost a Godsend in the winter, " declaredDestournier. "But they will be hundreds of miles away, and the nearIndians are sometimes too friendly, when driven by hunger to seek thefort. Oh, you will find no cause for alarm, I think. "

"And how long will they keep this up?" she asked, as they were ascendingthe parapet from which they could still see the moving mass and theflashing lights, weird amid the surrounding darkness. 

"They will sit in a ring presently and smoke the pipe of peace andenjoyment, and drop off to sleep. And for your satisfaction, not a fewamong those were fur-hunters and traders, white men, who have given upthe customs of civilized life and enjoy the hardships of the wilderness, but who will fight like tigers for their brethren when the issue comes. They are seldom recreant to their own blood. "

"I do not want to see it again, ever, " she cried passionately. "I shallhardly sleep for thinking of it and some horrible things a sailor toldon shipboard. I can believe them all true now. "

"And we have had horrible battles, cruelty to prisoners, " declared herhusband. "These poor savages have never been taught anything better, andare always at war with each other. But for us, who have a higher stateof civilization, it seems incredible that we should take a delight indestroying our brethren. "

It was quiet and peaceful enough inside the fort. The Sieur was stillengrossed with his papers, marking out routes and places where lakes andrivers might be found and where trading posts might be profitably set, and colonies established. It was a daring ambition to plant the liliesof France up northward, to take in the mighty lakes they had alreadydiscovered and to cross the continent and find the sure route to India. There were heroes in those days and afterwards. 

CHAPTER V

CHANGING ABOUT

"If you are ready for your sail and have the courage----"

Laurent Giffard kissed his pretty wife as she sat with some needleworkin her hand, telling legendary tales, that were half fairyembellishments, to the little Rose, who was listening eager-eyed andwith a delicious color in her cheeks. The child lived in a sort of fairyland. Miladi was the queen, her gowns were gold and silver brocade, butwhat brocade was, it would have been difficult for her to describe. Shewas very happy in these days, growing strong so she could take walksoutside the fort, though she did not venture to do much climbing. Theold life was almost forgotten. Mère Dubray was very busy with her ownaffairs, and her husband was as exigent as any new lover. Her cookeryappealed to him in the most important place, his stomach. 

"And to think I have done without thee these two years, " he would moan. 

When she saw her, the little girl had a strange fear that at the lastmoment they would seize her and take her up to the fur country withthem. Pani was to go; he was of some service, if you kept a sharp eyeon him, and had a switch handy. 

"I'll tell you, " he said to Rose when he waylaid her one day, "becauseyou never got me into trouble and had me beaten. I shall have to startwith them and I will go two days' journey, so they won't suspect. Thenat night I'll start back. I like Quebec, and you and the good gentlemanwho throws you a laugh when he passes, instead of striking you. And I'llhunt and fish, and be a sailor. I'll not starve. And you will not telleven miladi, who is so beautiful and sweet. Promise. "

Rose promised. And now they were to go down the river. 

"The courage, of course, " and Madame glanced up smilingly. "We take thechild for the present. "

"I shall soon be jealous, _ma mie_, but it is a pleasure to see a brightyoung thing about that can talk with her eyes and not chatter shrilly. _Mon dieu!_ what voices most of the wives have, and they aretransmitting them to their children. Yes; we will start at noon, and begone two days. Destournier has some messages to deliver. Put on thyplainest frock, we are not in sunny France now. "

She had learned that and only dressed up now and then for her husband'ssake, or to please the child. And she had made her some pretty frocksout of petticoats quite too fine for wear here. 

Rose was overjoyed. Wanamee was to accompany them. When they were readythey were piloted down to the wharf by Monsieur, and there was M. Ralphto welcome them. The river was brisk with boats and canoes and shallops. The sun glistened on the naked backs of Indian rowers bending with everystroke of the paddles to a rhythmic sort of sound, that later on grew tobe regular songs. There were squaws handling canoes with grace anddexterity. One would have considered Quebec a great _entrepôt_. 

But the river with its beautiful bank, its groves of trees that had notyet been despoiled, its frowning rocks glinting in the sunshine, itswild flowers, its swift dazzle of birds, its great flocks of geese, snowy white, in the little coves that uttered shrill cries and thenhuddled together, the islands that reared grassy heads a moment and weresubmerged as the current swept over them. 

"Why are they not drowned?" asked Rose. "Or can they swim like thelittle Indian boys?"

M. Giffard laughed--he often did at her quaint questions. 

"They are like the trees; they have taken root ever so far down, and thetide cannot sweep them away. "

"And is Quebec rooted that way? Do the rocks hold fast? And--all theplaces, even France?"

"They have staunch foundations. The good God has anchored them fast. "

A puzzled look wavered over her face. "Monsieur, it is said the greatworld is round. Why does not the water spill out as it turns? It wouldfall out of a pail. "

"Ah, child, that once puzzled wiser heads than thine. And years mustpass over thy head before thou canst understand. "

"When I am as big as miladi?"

"I am afraid I do not quite understand myself, though I learned it inthe convent, I am quite sure. And I could not see why we did not falloff. Some of the good nuns still believed the world was flat, " andmiladi laughed. "Women's brains were not made for over-much study. "

"Is it far to France?"

"Two months' or so sail. "

"On a river?"

"Oh, on a great ocean. We must look at the Sieur's chart. Out of sightof any land for days and days. "

"I should feel afraid. And if you did not know where the land was?"

"But the sailor can tell by his chart. "

What a wonderful world it was. She had supposed Quebec the greatestthing in it. And now she knew so much about France and the beautifulcity called Paris, where the King and Queen lived, and ladies who wentgowned just like Madame, the first time she saw her. And there was anEngland. M. Ralph had been there and seen their island empire, whichcould not compare with France. She had a vague idea France was all therest of the world. 

What days they were, for the weather was unusually fine. Now and thenthey paused to explore some small isle, or to get fresh game. As forfish, in those days the river seemed full of them. So many small streamsemptied into the St. Lawrence. Berries were abundant, and they feastedto their hearts' content. The Indians dried them in the sun for winteruse. 

Tadoussac was almost as busy as Quebec. As the fur monopoly had been inpart broken up, there were trappers here with packs of furs, and severalIndian settlements. It was Champlain's idea which Giffard was to workup, to enlist rival traders to become sharers in the traffic, andenlarge the trade, instead of keeping in one channel. 

Madame and the little girl, piloted by Wanamee, visited several of thewigwams, and the surprise of the Indian women at seeing the white ladyand the child was great indeed. Rose was rather afraid at first, anddrew back. 

"They take it that you are the wife of the great father in France, thatis the King, " translated Wanamee, "because you have crossed the ocean. And you must not blame their curiosity. They will do you no harm. "

But they wanted to examine my lady's frock and her shoes, with theirgreat buckles that nearly covered her small foot. Her sleeves came infor a share of wonder, and her white, delicate arms they loaded withcurious bracelets, made of shells ground and polished until theyresembled gems. Then, too, they must feast them with a dish of Indiancookery, which seemed ground maize broken by curiously arrangedmillstones, in which were put edible roots, fish, and strips of driedmeat, that proved quite too much for miladi's delicate stomach. Thechild had grown accustomed to it, as Lalotte sometimes indulged in it, but she always shook her head in disdain and frowned on it. 

"Such _pot au feu_ no one would eat at home, " she would declareemphatically. 

They were loaded with gifts when they came away. Beautifully dresseddeerskins, strips of work that were remarkable, miladi thought, and shewondered how they could accomplish so much with so few advantages. 

The child had been a great source of amusement to all on shipboard. Herutter ignorance of the outside world, her quaint frankness and innocencetempted Giffard to play off on her curiosity and tell wonderful tales ofthe mother country. And then Wanamee would recount Indian legends andstrange charms and rites used by the sages of the Abenaquis in the timeof her forefathers, before any white man had been seen in the country. 

Then their homeward route began, the pause at the Isle d'Orléans, thenarrowing river, the more familiar Point Levis, the frowning rocks, thepalisades, and the fort. All the rest was wildness, except the clearingthat had been made and kept free that no skulking enemy should take anundue advantage and surprise them by a sudden onslaught. 

The Sieur de Champlain came down to meet them. Rose was leaping frompoint to point like a young deer. It was no longer a pale face, it hadbeen a little changed by sun and wind. 

"Well, little one, hast thou made many discoveries?"

"Oh, yes, indeed. I would not mind going to France now. And we havebrought back some such queer things; beautiful, too. But we did not likesome of the cooking, miladi and I, and Quebec is dearer, for it ishome, " and her eyes shone with delight. 

"Home! Thanks, little maid, for your naming it on this wise, " and hesmiled down in the eager face as he turned to greet Madame. 

She was a little weary of the wildness and loneliness of dense woods andgreat hills and banks of the river, that roared and shrieked at times asif ghost-haunted. Wanamee's stories had touched the superstitiousthreads of her brain. 

M. Giffard took the Sieur's arm and drew him a trifle aside. Destournieroffered his to the lady and assisted her up the rocky steep. Many atragedy would pass there before old Quebec became new Quebec, withfamous and heroic story. 

She leaned a little heavily on his arm. "The motion of the ship is stillswaying my brain, " she remarked, with a soft laugh. "So, if I amawkward, I crave your patience. Oh, see that child! She will surelyfall. "

Rose was climbing this way and that, now hugging a young tree growingout of some crevice, then letting it go with a great flap, nowsnatching a handful of wild flowers, and treading the fragrance out ofwild grapes. 

"She is sure-footed like any other wild thing. I saw her first perchedupon that great gray rock yonder. "

"The daring little monkey! I believe they brave every danger. I wonderif we shall ever learn anything about her. The Sieur has so much onhand, and men are wont to drop the thread of a pursuit or get it tangledup with other things, so it would be too much of a burthen to ask him. And another year I shall go to Paris myself. If she does not develop toomuch waywardness, and keeps her good looks, I shall take her. "

"Then I think you may be quite sure of a companion. "

Wanamee had preceded them and thrown open the room to the slant rays ofwestern sunshine. Madame sank down on a couch, exhausted. The Indiangirl brought in some refreshments. 

"Stay and partake of some, " she said, with a winsome smile. "I cannot bebereft of everybody. "

But the child came in presently, eager and full of news that was hardlynews to her, after all. 

"Pani is here, " she exclaimed. "Madame Dubray and her husband have gonewith the trappers. They took Pani. He said he would run away. They kepthim two days, and tied him at night, but he loosened the thongs and rannearly all night. Then he has hidden away, for some new people havetaken the house. And he wants to stay here. He will be my slave. "

She looked eagerly at my lady. 

"Thou art getting to be such a venturesome midge that it may be well tohave so devoted an attendant. Yet I remember he left thee alone and illand hungry not so long ago. "

Rose laughed gayly. 

"If he had not left me I could not have taken the courage to crawl out. And no one else might have come. He wanted to see the ships. And MadameDubray whipped him well, so that score is settled, " with a sound ofjustice well-paid for in her voice. 

"We will see"--nodding and laughing. 

"Then can I tell him?"

"The elders had better do that. But there will be room enough in Quebecfor him and us, I fancy, " returned miladi. 

Rose ran away. Pani was waiting out on the gallery. 

"They will not mind, " she announced. "But you must have some place tosleep, and"--studying him critically from the rather narrow face, thebony shoulders, and slim legs--"something to eat. Mère Dubray hadplenty, except towards spring when the stores began to fail. "

"I can track rabbits and hares, and catch fish on the thin places in therivers. Oh, I shall not starve. But I'm hungry. "

The wistful look in his eyes touched her. 

"Let us find Wanamee, " she exclaimed, leading the way to the culinarydepartment. 

Miladi had been surprised and almost shocked at the rough manner ofliving in this new France. The food, too, was primitive, lacking in thedelicacies to which she had been used, and the manners she thoughtbarbarous. But for M. Destournier and the courtesy of the Sieur shewould have prayed to return at once. 

"Wait a little, " pleaded Laurent. "If there is a fortune to be made inthis new world, why should we not have our share? And I can see thatthere is. Matters are quite unsettled at home, but if we go back withgold in our purses we shall do well enough. "

Then the child had appealed to her. And it was flattering to be the onlylady of note and have homage paid to her. 

So the children sought Wanamee, and while Pani brought some sticks andsoon had a bed of coals, Wanamee stirred up some cakes of rye and maize, and the boy prepared a fish for cooking. He was indeed hungry, and hiseyes glistened with the delight of eating. 

"It smells so good, " said Rose. "Wanamee, bring me a piece. I can alwayseat now, and a while ago I could not bear the smell of food. "

"You were so thin and white. And Mère Dubray thought every morning youwould be dead. You wouldn't like to be put in the ground, would you?"

"Oh, no, no!" shivering. 

"Nor burned. Then you go to ashes and only the bones are left. "

"That is horrid, too. Burning hurts. I have burned my fingers withcoals. "

"But my people don't mind it. They are very brave. And you go to thegreat hunting grounds way over to the west, where the good Manitou haseverything, and you don't have to work, and no one beats you. "

"The white people have a heaven. That is above the sky. And when thestars come out it is light as day on the other side, and there areflowers and trees, and rivers and all manner of fruit such as you neversee here. "

"I'd rather hunt. When I get to be a man I shall go off and discoverwonderful things. In some of the mountains there is gold. And out by thegreat oceans where the Hurons have encamped there are copper and silver. The company talked about it. Some were for going there. And there werefur animals, all the same. "

Rose had been considering another subject. 

"Pani, " she began, with great seriousness, "you are not any one's slavenow. "

"No"--rather hesitatingly. "The Dubrays will never come back, or if theyshould next summer, with furs, I will run away again up to the Saguenay, where they will not look. But there are Indian boys in plenty where thetribes fight and take prisoners. "

"You shall be my slave. "

The young Indian's cheek flushed. 

"The slave of a girl!" he said, with a touch of disdain. 

"Why not? I should not beat you. "

"Oh, you couldn't"--triumphantly. 

"But you might be miladi's slave, " suggested Wanamee, "and then youcould watch the little one and follow her about to see that nothingharmed her. "

"There shouldn't anything hurt her. " He sprang up. "You see I am growingtall, and presently I shall be a man. But I won't be a slave always. "

"No, no, " said the Indian woman. 

"That was very good, excellent, " pointing to the two empty birch-barkdishes, which he picked up and threw on the coals, a primitive way toescape dish washing. "I will find you a heap more. I will get fish orberries, and oh, I know where the bees have stored a lot of honey in ahollow tree. "

"You let them alone for another month, " commanded Wanamee. "Honey--thatwill be a treat indeed. "

Miladi had missed the sweets of her native land, though there they hadnot been over-plentiful, since royalty must needs be served first. Theybought maple sugar and a kind of crude syrup of the Abenaqui women, whowere quite experts in making it. When the sun touched the trees in themorning when the hoarfrost had disappeared, they inserted tubes of bark, rolled tightly, and caught the sap in the troughs. Then they filledtheir kettles that swung over great fires, and the fragrance arisingmade the forests sweet with a peculiar spiciness. It was a grand timefor the children, who snatched some of the liquid out of the kettle on abirch-bark ladle, and ran into the woods for it to cool. Pani had oftenbeen with them. 

"Let us go down to the old house, " exclaimed Rose. "Do you know who isthere?"

"Pierre Gaudrion. He gets stone for the new walls they are layingagainst the fort. And there are five or six little ones. "

"It must be queer. Oh, let us go and see them. "

She was off like a flash, but he followed as swiftly. Here was thegarden where she had pulled weeds with a hot hatred in her heart thatshe would have liked to tear up the whole garden and throw it over inthe river. She glanced around furtively--what if Mère Dubray should comesuddenly in search of Pani. 

Three little ones were tumbling about on the grass. The oldest girl wasgrinding at the rude mill, a boy was making something out of birchbranches, interlaced with willow. A round, cheerful face glanced up frompatching a boy's garment, and smiled. Madame Gaudrion's mother had beena white woman left at the Saguenay basin in a dying condition, it wassupposed, but she had recovered and married a half-breed. One daughterhad cast in her lot with a roving tribe. Pierre Gaudrion had seen theother in one of the journeys up to Tadoussac and brought her home. 

The Sieur did not discourage these marriages, for the childrengenerally affiliated with the whites, and if the colony was to prosperthere must be marriages and children. 

Rose stopped suddenly, rather embarrassed, for all her bravado. 

"I used to live here, " as if apologizing. 

"Yes. But Mère Dubray was not your mother. "

"No. Nor Catherine Arlac. "

The woman shook her head. "I know not many people. We live on the otherside. And the babies come so fast I have not much time. But Pierre saynow we must have bigger space and garden for the children to work in. Sowe are glad when Mère Dubray go up to the fur country with her man. Youwere ill, they said. But you do not look ill. Did you not want to gowith her?"

"Oh, no, no. And I live clear up there, " nodding to the higher altitude. "M'sieu Hébert is there and Madame. And a beautiful lady, MadameGiffard. I did not love Mère Dubray. "

"If I have a child that will not love me, it would break my heart. Whatelse are little ones for until they grow up and marry in turn?"

"But--I was not her child. "

"And your mother. "

"I do not know. She was dead before I could remember. Then I was broughtfrom France. "

Suddenly she felt the loss of her mother. She belonged to no one in theworld. 

"Poor _petite_. " She made a sudden snatch at her own baby and hugged itso tightly that it shrieked, at which she laughed. 

"Some day a man will hug thee and thou wilt not scream, " she said ingood humor. 

Pani came from round the corner and then darted back. The boy left hiswork and came forward. 

"Who was that?" he asked. "My father said 'get an Indian boy to work inthe garden. ' I am making a chair for the little one. And I can't tellwhich are weeds. Yesterday I pulled up some onions and father was angry, but he could set them out again. "

Rose laughed at that, and thought it remarkable that his father did notbeat him. 

"Pani might show you a little. He belongs to me now. We both used towork in the garden. Mère Dubray was always knitting and cooking. "

Pani emerged again. "Yes, let us go, " and Rose led the way, but shewould have liked to throw herself down among the babies, who seemed allarms and legs. 

"Can you read?" the boy said suddenly. "We have a book and I can readquite well. My father knows how. And I want to be a great man like theSieur, and some of the soldiers. I want to know how to keep accounts, and to go to France some time in the big ships. "

Rose colored. "I am going to learn to read this winter, when we have tostay in. But it is very difficult--tiresome. I'd rather climb the rocksand watch the birds. I had some once that would come for grains and bitsof corn cake. And the geese were so tame down there by the end of thegarden. "

The rows of corn stood up finely, shaking out their silken heads, turning to a bronze red. Then there were potatoes. These were of theDubrays' planting, as well as some of the smaller beds. 

"M'sieu Hébert gave father some of these plants. He knows a great deal, and he can make all kinds of medicine. It is very fine to know a greatdeal, isn't it?"

"But it must be hard to study so much, " returned Rose, with a sigh. 

"I don't think so. I wish I had ever so many books like the Sieur and M. Hébert. And you can find out places--there are so many of them in theworld. And do you know there are English people working with all theirmight down in Virginia, and Spanish and Dutch! But some day we shalldrive them all out and it will be New France as far as you can go. Andthe Indians----"

"You can't drive the Indians out, " exclaimed Pani decisively. "The wholecountry is theirs. And there are so many of them. There are tribes andtribes all over the land. And they know how to fight. "

"They are fighting each other continually. M. Hébert says they willsweep each other off after a while. And they are very cruel. You willsee the French do not fight the French. "

Alas, young Pierre Gaudrion, already Catholic and Huguenot were at war:one fighting for the right to live in a certain liberty of belief, theother thinking they did God a service by undertaking theirextermination. 

The argument rather floored Pani, whose range of knowledge was only wideenough to know that many tribes were at bitter enmity with each other. 

"Do you want to work in the garden? There are weeds enough to keep youbusy, " said Pierre presently. 

"No, " returned Pani stoutly. 

"And Pani belongs to me, " declared Rose. 

Pierre turned to look at the girl. Her beauty stirred him strangely. Sometimes, when his father sang the old songs of home, the same quiverwent through every pulse. 

"I'm sorry, " he said, in a gentler tone. "Now I must go back to mychair. "

"Is it to be a chair?"

"I can't weave the grasses just right, though some one showed me, only Iwas thinking of other things. "

"Let's see. " Pani was a little mollified. 

They went back to the boy's work. 

"I'm only making a little one for Marie. Then I shall try a larger one. There are two in the room. "

Yes, Rose knew them well. The place was about the same, with the greatbunk on one side and the smaller one on the other. Mère Dubray's brightblankets were gone, with the pictures of the Virgin, and the highcandlestick, that was alight on certain days. Little mattresses filledwith dried grass were piled on top of the bunk. It looked like, and yetunlike. Rose was glad she did not live here. 

Pani inspected the boy's work. 

"Oh, you haven't it right. You must put pegs in here, then you can pullit up. And this is the way you go. "

Pani's deft fingers went in and out like a bit of machinery. It wasforest lore, and he was at home in it. 

"You make it beautiful, " exclaimed Pierre. "Oh, go slower, so I canunderstand. "

Pani smiled with the praise and put in a word of explanation now andthen. The boys were fast becoming friends. 

"Maman, " Pierre cried, "come and see how fine the boy does it. If hewould come and live with us!"

"I might come a little while and look after the garden. And I couldcatch fish and I know the best places for berries, and the grapes willsoon be ripening. And the plums. I can shoot birds with an arrow. But Ibelong to mam'selle. "

"If she will let you come now and then, " wistfully. 

"Yes, I might, " with an air of condescension. 

"Thou art a pretty little lady, " was Mère Gaudrion's parting benison tothe little girl, and Rose smiled. "Come again often. "

When they were out of the narrow passageway she said, "Now let us have arace. I am glad Mère Dubray is there no longer, are you not? But what afunny pile of children!"

They had their race, and a climb, and on the gallery they found miladilooking for them, and they told over their adventure. 

"Yes, " she said smilingly. "I think we can find a place for Pani, andbetween us all I fancy we can keep him so well employed he will not wantto run away. "

CHAPTER VI

FINDING AMUSEMENTS

About the middle of August the Sieur de Champlain and Captain Françoisde Pontgrave sailed from Tadoussac for France. The Giffards, Destournier, and several others accompanied them to the port, and werethen to survey some of the places that had advantages for plantingcolonies. They did not return until in September. The season wasunusually fine and warm, and there had been an abundance of everything. The colonists had been busy enough preparing for winter. They hadlearned ways of drying fruit, of smoking meats and fish, of caring fortheir grains. There had been no talk of Indian raids, indeed thevillages about were friendly with the whites, and friendly with severalof the outlying tribes. Some had gone on raids farther south. 

Madame Giffard would have found time hanging heavy on her hands but forthe child. She began to teach her to read and to play checkers. Rose didnot take kindly to embroidery, but some of the Indian work interestedher. With Pani and Wanamee's assistance she made baskets and curiousvase-like jars. Pierre Gaudrion came up now and then, and miladiconsidered him quite a prodigy in several ways. 

When they were dull and tired miladi gave Rose dancing lessons. Thechild was really fascinated with the enjoyment. Miladi would dress up inone of her pretty gowns to the child's great delight, and they wouldinvent wonderful figures. Sometimes the two men would join them, andthey would keep up the amusement till midnight. 

Pani was growing rapidly and he was their most devoted knight. And whenthe snows set in there were great snowballing games; sometimes betweenthe Indians alone, at others, the whites would take a hand. 

It was splendid entertainment for the children to slide about on thesnowy crust, that glistened in the sunlight as if sprinkled with gems. The Indian women often participated in this amusement. And miladi lookedas bewitching in her deerskin suit, with its fringes and brightadornments of feather borders, and her lovely furs, as in her Parisattire. She often thought she would like to walk into some assembly andmake a stir in her strange garments. 

What is the Sieur doing? Making new bargains, persuading colonists tojoin them, getting concessions to the profit of New France. Alas! OldFrance was a selfish sort of stepmother. She wanted furs, she wantedcolonies planted, she wanted explorations, and possessions taken inevery direction, to thwart English and Dutch, who seemed somehow to beprospering, but the money supplies were pared to the narrowest edge. 

The little girl would have been much interested in one step her dearSieur was taking, though she did not hear of it until long afterward. This was his betrothment and marriage to Marie Hélène, the daughter ofNicolas Boullé, private secretary to the young King. A child of twelve, and the soldier and explorer who was now forty or over, but held hisyears well and the hardships had written few lines on his kindly andhandsome face. That he was very much charmed with the child, who wasreally quite mature for her age, was true, though it is thought thefriendship of her father and her dowry had some weight. But she adoredher heroic lover, although she was to be returned to the convent tofinish her education. Then the Sieur made his will and settled a part ofthe dowry on his bride, and the income of all his other property, hismaps and books, "in case of his death in voyages on the sea and in theservice of the King. "

If the autumn had been lovely and long beyond expectations, winterlingered as well. And the travellers had a hard time on their return. Lofty bergs floated down the Atlantic, and great floes closed in aroundthe vessel, and the rigging was encased in glittering ice. Sometimestheir hearts failed them and the small boats were made ready, butwhither would they steer? Captain Pontgrave kept up his courage, and"when they brought their battered craft into the harbor of Tadoussacthey fired a cannon shot in joyous salute, " says history. Seventy-fourdays had their journey lasted. 

The country was still white with snow, although it was May. Already sometrading vessels were bidding for furs, but the Montagnais had had a hardwinter as well, and the Bay traders would have perished on the way. 

Champlain pushed on to Quebec, though his heart was full of fears. 

Rose was out on the gallery, that Pani was clearing from the frequentlight falls of snow. A canoe was being rowed by some Indians and in thestern sat the dearly-loved Commander. "They have come! they have come!"shouted Rose, and she ran in to spread the joyful news. Destournier andGiffard were at a critical point in a game of chess, but both sprang up. The bell pealed out, there was a salute, and every one in the fortrushed out with exclamations of joy. For the sake of the little girl hehad left, the Sieur stooped and kissed Rose. 

Du Parc was in the best of spirits, and had only a good account. Therehad been no sickness, no Indian troubles, and provisions had lastedwell. All was joy and congratulations. Even the Indian settlements nearby built bonfires and beat their drums, dancing about with everyindication of delighted welcome. 

He had brought with him the young Indian Savignon, while Etienne Bruléhad wintered with the Ottawas, perfecting himself in their language. Hewas a fine specimen of his race, as far as physique went, and his winterin civilization had given him quite a polish. 

There was a great feast. Miladi was in her glory ordering it, andSavignon paid her some compliments that quite savored of old times inher native land. She was fond of admiration, and here there was butsmall allowance of it. 

He was to restore the young brave to his tribe, and Destournier was toaccompany him. He saw that with trade open to rivals there must be somestations. It was true no men could be spared to form a new colony, andthe few he had induced to emigrate would do better service in the oldsettlement. In Cartier's time there had been the village of Hochelega. It was a great stretch of open fertile land, abounding in wild fruitsand grapes, so he pre-empted it in the name of the King, put up a stoutcross, and built two or three log huts, and planted some grain seedsthat might in turn scatter themselves around. And so began Montreal. Theriver was dotted with islands; the largest, on which the wild iris, thefleur-de-lis, grew abundantly, he named St. Hélène, in remembrance ofhis little betrothed. 

They pushed on beyond the rapids and here he met the Algonquins andrestored their young brave to them, and was glad to find Etienne Bruléin good health and spirits. But Savignon bade him farewell ruefully, declaring life in Paris was much more agreeable, and spoiled one for thewilderness. 

Various bands of Hurons and Algonquins came to meet the great whiteSagamore, and he secured much trade for the coming season. But the furbusiness was being greatly scattered, and Demont's finances were at arather low ebb, so there could not be the necessary branching out. 

Destournier had some schemes as well. He had come to the new worldpartly from curiosity and the desire to mend his fortunes. He saw nowsome fine openings, if he could get a concession or grant of land. Hisold family seat might be disposed of, he had not Laurent Giffard's aimto make a fortune here and go back to France and spend it for show. 

Madame Giffard was deeply disappointed at this prospect, and Rose wasinconsolable. 

"Who will read to us in the long evenings and the days when the drivingsnow makes it seem like night. And oh, M'sieu, who will dance with meand tell me those delightful stories, and laugh at my sayings that comelike birds' flights across my mind and go their way?"

"You will have miladi. And there are the Gaudrion children. Pierre has aheart full of worship for you. And books that the Governor brought. Thetime will pass quickly. "

"To you. There will be so many things. But the long, long days. Andmiladi says there are so many pretty girls in Paris, whose dancing andsinging are marvellous, and who would laugh at a frock of deerskin. Oh, you will forget me, and all the time I shall think of you. You will notcare. "

Her beautiful eyes were suffused with tears, the brilliance of her cheekfaded, and her bosom heaved with emotion. What a girl she would be a fewyears hence. His dear Sieur had married a child--was he really in lovewith her? But his regard was fatherly, brotherly. 

"See, " he began, "we will make a bargain. When the first star comes outyou will watch for it and say, 'M'sieu Ralph is looking at it andthinking of me. ' And I will say--'the little Rose of Quebec is turningtoward me, ' and we will meet in heart. Will not this comfort thee?"

"Oh, I shall hug it to my heart. The star! the star! And when the sky isthick with clouds I shall remember you told me the stars were alwaysthere. And I will shut my eyes and see you. I see strange things attimes. "

"So you must not be unhappy, for I shall return, " and he took herthrobbing fingers in his. 

She raised her lovely eyes. What a charming coquette she would make, ifshe were not so innocent. But the long fringe of lashes was beaded withtears. 

It was odd, he thought, but with all the admiration of her husbandmiladi made as great a time as the child. What should she do in thishorrible lonely place, shut up in the fort all winter, with no companybut an Indian woman and a child whose limited understanding took in onlyfoolish pleasures. What miladi needed was companionship. Ah! if shecould return to France. If Laurent would only consent. But now hethought only of fortune-making. 

"And a return at the end. He is not taking root here. I am. I like theboundless freedom of this new country, " said Destournier. 

"You will marry. There is some demoiselle at home on whom your heart isset. And the old friendship will go for naught. You have been--yes, likea brother, " and she flushed. 

"No, I am not likely to marry, " he returned gravely. 

"But--you will not return, " in a desperate kind of tone. "You will bewon by Paris. "

"I shall return. All my interests are here. And as I said--I shall leavemy heart in this new country. "

Then she smiled, a little secure in the thought that she had no rival. 

So again the Sieur de Champlain set sail for France, and many adiscourse he held with Ralph Destournier on the future of Quebec, thatchild of his dreams and his heart. It would be fame enough, he thought, to be handed down to posterity as the founder of Quebec, the explorer ofthe great inland seas that joining arms must lead across the continent. 

Miladi was very capricious, Rose found, although she did not know themeaning of the word. What she wanted to-day she scouted to-morrow. Rose's reading was enough to set one wild. Sure she was notFrench-born, or she would know by intuition. Sometimes she would saypettishly, "Go away, child, you disturb me, " and then Rose would playhide-and-seek with Pani, or run down to the Gaudrions. Marie was quitean expert in Indian embroidery, the children were gay and frolicsome, and there was a new baby. Pierre was very fond of her; a studiousfellow, with queer ideas that often worked themselves out in some usefulfashion. They read together, stumbling over words they could notunderstand. 

"And I shall build a boat of my own and go out to those wonderfulrapids. At one moment it feels as if you would be submerged, then youride up on top with a shout. Cubenic said the Sieur stood it as bravelyas any Indian. Why--if your boat was overturned you could swim. "

"But there's a current that sucks you in. And there's a strange woman, awindigo, who haunts the rapids and drags you down and eats you. "

"I don't believe such nonsense. In one of the Sieur's books there is astory of some people who believed there was a spirit in everything. There were gods of the waters, of the trees, of the winds, and theIndians are much like them. I've never found any of their gods, haveyou?"

"No"--rather reluctantly. "But Wanamee has. And sometimes they bringback dead people. "

"Then they don't always eat them, " and the boy laughed. 

She had meant to tell miladi of her tryst and beg her to come out andsee the star, but when she found her not only indifferent, but fretful, she refrained and was glad presently that she had this delicious secretto herself. But there was a great mystery. Sometimes the star wasdifferent. Instead of being golden, it was a pale blue, and then almostred. Was it that way in France, she wondered. 

She came to have a strange fondness for the stars, and to note theirchanges. Was it true that the old people M'sieu Ralph had read about, the Greeks, had seen their gods and goddesses taken up to the sky andset in the blue? There were thrones mounted with gems, there werefigures that chased each other; to-night they were here, to-morrow nightsomewhere else. But the star that came out first was hers, and she senta message across the ocean with it. And the star said in return, "I amthinking of you. "

He did think of her, and tried to trace out some parentage. CatherineDefroy had gone from St. Malo, a single woman. Then by all the accountshe could find she must have spent two years in Paris. Clearly she wasnot mother of the child. 

After all, what did it matter? Rose would probably spend her life in NewFrance. If it was never proven that she came of gentlefolks, LaurentGiffard would hardly consent to his wife's mothering her. He had a gooddeal of pride of birth. 

The winter passed away and this year spring came early, unchaining thestreams and sending them headlong to the rivers; filling the air withthe fragrant new growth of the pines, hemlocks, and cedars, the younggrasses, and presently all blossoming things. The beauty touched Rosedeeply. No one understood, so she only talked of these strange things tothe trees and the stars at night. Often she was a merry romp, climbingrocks, out in a canoe, which she had learned to manage perfectly, thoughsometimes Pani accompanied her, sometimes Pierre Gaudrion, who wasgrowing fast and making himself very useful to Du Parc. 

As for the Sieur, he found much to engross his attention. There was anew trading company that had the privilege of eleven years. There wasanother volume of voyages and discoveries, the maps and illustrationsfinely engraved. Then he had laid before the secretary of the King theurgent need of some religious instruction. Acadia had quite a thrivingJesuit mission. This order was not in high favor with Champlain, whodeprecated their narrowness. The Sieur Houel recommended the Récollets, and four willing missionaries were finally chosen. The company hadfitted up a large vessel and were taking all the stores they couldpurchase or beg, and quite a number of emigrants of a better class thanheretofore. 

They were all warmly welcomed, and found the colonists in very goodorder. The enthusiastic priest startled them by kneeling on the soil anddevoutly consecrating it to God, and giving thanks that He had calledthem to this new and arduous field of labor. The coarse gray cassockgirt at the waist with a bit of rope, the pointed hood, which often hungaround their necks and betrayed the shaven crown, their general air ofpoverty and humility attracted attention, but did not so much appeal tothe colonists or the Indians. They were fearful of the new order ofthings. 

Quebec had enlarged her borders somewhat. The one-roomed hut had spreadout into two or three apartments. The gardens had increased. Some roadshad been made, the workmen taking the stone quarried to add to their ownhouses. Still they received the fathers with a certain degree ofcordiality. 

Champlain set aside ground for their convent, and they first erected analtar and celebrated Mass. Père Dolbeau was the officiating priest. Thepeople, most of whom came from curiosity, knelt around on the earth, while cannon from the ramparts announced the mystic services. TheGiffards joined in them reverentially, but Rose was full of wonderment. Indeed, her joy was so great at seeing Destournier again that she couldgive thanks for nothing else. 

Then they erected a rude hut and discussed the work that lay beforethem. Le Caron would go to the Hurons, Dolbeau to the Montagnais, Jamayand Du Plessis would take charge of Quebec and the outlying provinces, and planned to build a chapel. 

Destournier had been successful with his grant. He bad been madeseignior of a large tract outside of the town, which was destined oneday to be a part of it. Here he settled some friendly Indians, andseveral of the new-comers, who were to till the soil under hisdirections, and raise different crops to ward off the scarcity ofrations in the winter. He would build a house for himself and live amongthem. 

"But why not remain in the fort?" asked miladi. "What charm can you findwith those ignorant people? Though perhaps peas and beans, radishes andcabbages may console one for more intellectual pursuits. "

"I shall only spend the days with them at present, " he returned, with asmile. 

And now again came the influx of the fur-traders. It had been a goodseason and from the new settlement of Montreal to Tadoussac, vesselswere packing away the precious freight. Champlain had gone with a bodyof soldiers to help defend a town the Iroquois had threatened to attack. The missions thus far had borne no fruit. Indeed the new teaching of theRécollets in its severity was not pleasant. The Hurons were seized witha panic after losing several of their leaders and the Sieur was wounded. All winter the people at Quebec waited anxiously for their leader, andparties set out to see if they could find any tidings. At last they weresighted, and great was the joy at finding their beloved chieftain welland unharmed. But he was not allowed to remain long in his petsettlement. There were disputes and altercations, and he was summoned toFrance. 

"Another year we shall go ourselves, " announced Laurent Giffard to hiswife. "We have enough now to make ourselves comfortable, and I doubt ifthe company can weather through. At all events I shall be glad to bewell out of it. Art thou glad of the prospect?"

"There is great commotion with the King and his mother, and betweenHuguenot and Catholic, " she made answer slowly. "Does the SieurDestournier throw up his schemes in disgust as well?"

"Ah, I think he is wedded to the soil. The Governor trusts everything tohim, and Du Parc, and both are capable men. But truth to tell I havelost faith in the colony. I hear the Virginians and the Bostonnais aredoing much better. France cannot, or will not, spend the money, nor sendthe men to put the place on a sure foundation. The Indians grow moretroublesome. They hate being meddled with by the priests. They takewives when they want them, and send them away when they are tired ofthem. They torture prisoners--some day the priests will have a taste ofit themselves. "

"They are all horrible, " she said, with a shiver. 

"And we will go back to La Belle France. I fancy I can manage a sort ofpreferment with Dubissay, who has the ear of the Queen mother atpresent. At all events I am tired of this turmoil, and thou, _ma mie_, art wasting thy beauty in this savage land. "

He stooped and kissed her. If he had been ready last year, she wouldhave hailed the prospect with delight. Why did it not seem so attractivenow?

"And the child?" she asked presently, her eyes fixed on the floor. 

Was the tone indifferent?

"How much dost thou love her, _ma mie_? At first thy heart was sore forthe loss of our own, but time heals all such wounds. Destournier left nostone unturned to discover her parentage, and failed. I think she hasbeen some one's love child. True we could give her our name, and with agood dowry she could marry well. But she will want some years of conventtraining to tone her down. "

"And if we should leave her here? Though they say Miladi de Champlaincomes over soon, and there may be a court with maids of honor. "

He laughed. "What I fancy is this, though I am no seer. Destournier isfond of her, fatherly now, but she is shooting up into a tall girl. There will not be so many years between them as the Sieur andMademoiselle Boullé. And some day he will take her to wife. 'Twere apity to spoil the romance. She adores him. "

Miladi bit her lip hard, and drew her brow into a sharp frown. 

"What nonsense!" she made answer. 

"Destournier is a fine fellow, and will be a rich one some day. "

"The more need that he should marry in his own station. "

"But there is talk of reproducing home titles in this new land. AndBaron Destournier can raise his wife to his own station. If the childshould not be amenable to training, or develop some waywardness, theremight be sorrow, rather than joy or satisfaction in thine heart. "

"There will be time enough to consider, " she returned. 

He left the room. She went out on the shady side of the gallery, andlooked down over the town. The two under discussion a moment ago wereclimbing the steep rocks instead of taking the path where steps werecut. The wind blew her shining hair about, her face was filled withripples of laughter. He took her arm and she would have no help, butsprang like a deer from point to point, then turned to throw hermerriment at him. 

"Yes, miladi would take her to France. What if some day he shouldfollow?"

The Governor spent a month in intense satisfaction, enlarging theborders of his pet garden, talking with M. Hébert, who had been watchingthe growth of some fine fruit trees imported from northern France, thathad blossomed and were perfecting a few specimens of fruit. He thoughtsometimes it would be a joy to give up all cares and rest in cultivatingthe soil. If the summers were short everything grew abundantly. Therewere several rare plants, also, that they had acclimated. 

"Bring thy wife over and be content, " advised M. Hébert, in a cordialtone, "and enjoy the governorship. "

M. De Champlain laughed. But presently he said: "Friend, you little knowthe delights of an explorer who brings new countries to light, whobuilds cities that may continue after him. The route to India has notyet been located. The fields of gold and silver have not beendiscovered. The lilies of France have not been planted over there, "nodding his head. "We must go before the Spaniard gets a foothold. Yetthere are delights I must confess that even Horace longed for--agarden. "

But if he longed for it at times he found the restless current hurryinghim on. Some disaffected members of the company were bringing chargesagainst him, desiring to depose him from the governorship. But Condé, who had again come into power, knew there was not another man who wouldwork so untiringly for the good of New France, or make it bring in suchrich returns. 

CHAPTER VII

JOURNEYING TO A FAR COUNTRY

The colony passed a very fair winter. It was in the latter part of Aprilthat one night an alarm was given and the big bell at the fort rang outits call to arms. 

The messenger had trudged through the snow and was breathless. 

"An Indian attack. The Iroquois are burning the settlement, andmurdering our people. To arms! to arms!"

There had been no Indian raid for a long while. Destournier had tried tofortify the back of his plantation. There were Montagnais and Algonquinsof the better type living there peaceably. It was not altogethercupidity. An Iroquois woman had been found cruelly murdered, and thewandering band laid it at once to the settlement. It took only a briefwhile to work themselves up to a frenzy. 

It did not take long to plan revenge. There was no chief at the head;indeed, in these roving bands it was every brave for himself. And nowafter a powwow, since they were not large enough in numbers to attackthe fort, and they found some of the Indian converts were in the newsettlement, they determined on an onslaught. 

The barricade at the back was high and strong. It was not so wellfortified on the side toward the fort, and they pushed through a weakplace at the end, lighted their torches, and commenced a treacherousassault. Roused from their slumbers, and terrified to the last degree, the air was soon filled with shrieks, and bursting in doors, the houseswere set on fire. They were wary enough to guard their loop-hole forescape, but they found themselves outnumbered, and in turn had to fightfor their own lives. The blazing huts lighted up the snow in a weirdfashion; the shrieks and cries and jargon of the Iroquois added to thefrightfulness. Yet the struggle was brief. The enemy, finding themselveson the losing side, began to fly, pursued by the soldiers, and indeed, many of the inhabitants. 

Destournier roused at the first alarm, and Du Parc gave orders that werespeedily obeyed. The citadel was in a glow of light and wild commotion. 

Giffard ran down the stone steps with his musket. Destournier barred hisway. 

"Some of us have no wives, " he said briefly. "Go back and keep guarduntil we see what the dastardly attack means. "

"There are wives and children in the settlement, " was the reply, but hepaused while Destournier ran on. When he was out of sight, Giffardfollowed. 

The soldiers pursued the flying band, but they presently plunged intothe woods and crept on stealthily, while the pursuers returned. The graymorning began to dawn on the smoking ruin and the fitful blazes that themen were trying hard to extinguish with the snow. Destournier went fromone to another. A few huts had not been disturbed, and crying women andchildren were crowding in them. Some bodies lay silent on theblood-stained snow. Destournier had taken great pride in the surprise hehad thought to give the Governor on his return, and here lay most of hishopes in ruins. 

He gave orders that the wounded should be taken to the fort fortreatment. It was a gratification to find two Iroquois dead, and when asoldier despatched a wounded one he made no comment. It was pitiful whenthe sun rose over the scene of destruction. 

"Still there could not have been a large body, or the carnage would havebeen more complete, " he said, with some comforting assurance. 

"You had better come in for some breakfast, " an officer remarked. "Youlook ghastly, and you are blood-stained. "

He glanced down at his garments. "Yes, " he said, "I will take youradvice. I want something hot to drink. And we must send some food overthere. "

Rose came flying in as he was demolishing a savory slice of venison. 

"Where is M. Giffard?" she cried. "Miladi is so frightened. She wantshim at once. Oh, wasn't it dreadful! Thank the saints you are safe!"

"Giffard!" He had caught two or three glimpses of him in the mêlée. "Hemay be attending to the wounded. He is a brave fellow in an emergency. Imust find him. "

He swallowed the brandy and water and rushed down to the improvisedhospital. A dozen or more were being fed and nursed by Wanamee and twoother Indian women. The priest, too, was kindly exhorting courage andpatience. Giffard was not here. No one had seen him. He ran over thecrusty, but trodden-down snow, stained here and there with blood. Thesun had risen gorgeously, and there was a decided balminess in the air. He glanced at the insides of the huts. The furry skins had not been goodconductors of flames, and the snow on the roofs had saved them. Besidethe two dead Iroquois there was an Abenaqui woman and her child. In thehuts that were intact, the frightened women and children had huddled. Some of the men were already appraising possible repairs. 

"They went this way, " announced an Algonquin, in his broken French. Hehad been employed about the fort and found trusty. 

The path was marked with blood and fragments of clothing, bags of maize, that they had dropped in their flight--finding them a burthen. Here layan Iroquois with a broken leg, who was twisting himself along. TheAlgonquin hit him a blow over the head with the stout club he carried. 

"He will not get much further, " he commented, as the Indian dropped overmotionless. 

"Have you seen M. Giffard?" Destournier asked. 

"_Non, non_. The men came back. "

"He is not at the fort. "

"Shall we follow on?"

Destournier nodded. 

They heard a step crunching over the snow and waited breathlessly. 

It was Jacques Roleau they saw as he came in sight, one of the workmenat the fort. He gestured to them that all was right. 

"They have fled, what was left of them, " he explained. "I despatched twowounded Iroquois that they had left behind. There are two of our menthat they must have made prisoners, the M'sieu at the fort who has thepretty wife, and young Chauvin"--and he paused, as if there was more tosay. 

"Wounded?"

He shook his head sadly. 

"Dead?" Destournier's breath came with a gasp. 

"Both dead, M'sieu, but strange, neither has been scalped. "

"Let us push on, " exclaimed Destournier sadly. 

They followed the trail. After a short distance a body had been draggedevidently. Roleau led the way through a tortuous path until they came insight of a small vacant spot where sometime Indians had camped, as theycould tell by the scorched and blackened trees. A nearly nude body hadbeen fastened to one and a few dead branches gathered, evidently for afire. 

Destournier stood speechless. The head hung down, the face was unmarred, save for a few scratches, and he gave thanks for that. But his heart washeavy within him. The poor body had been stabbed and cut, yet it had notbled much, it seemed. 

He would have felt relieved if he had known the whole story. Twostalwart bucks had seized Giffard just beyond the settlement and hurriedhim along at such a pace that he could hardly breathe. They fastened hisarms behind, each man grasping an elbow, and fairly galloped, until oneof them caught his foot in a fallen tree and went down. In the fallGiffard's temple struck against a stone that knocked him senseless. Hemight have revived, but he was hurried along by a stout leathern thongslipped under the armpits, and was then dragged a dead weight. They hadstopped for a holocaust and bound him to a tree, while they despatchedthe younger man. But there was difficulty in finding anything dry enoughto burn, so they had amused themselves by gashing the dead body. Thensuddenly alarmed they had plunged farther into the forest, leaving oneof their own wounded that Roleau had finished. 

Giffard had been captured in a moment of incautiousness, but the sightsand the wantonness had fired his blood and roused a spirit ofretaliation. 

They had nearly stripped both bodies, and carried off the garments. 

"If you can manage, M'sieu, " exclaimed their guide, "I will take theyoung fellow. " He stooped, picked him up, and threw him over hisshoulder. 

"You will find him a heavy burthen, " as the man staggered a little. 

"I can carry. Do not fear, " nodding assurance. 

Destournier took off his fur coat and wrapped it about the poor body. Each took hold of the improvised litter and they commenced theirmelancholy journey. How could Madame Giffard stand it, for she reallydid love him. The man's heart ached with the sincerest pity. 

They laid down their burthens inside the settlement in one of the partlydestroyed cabins. Du Parc came thither to meet them. 

"Ah, " he exclaimed, "that fine young fellow who was going to be a greatsuccess. The company wanted him back in France. And his poor wife! Theblow will kill her. "

"I wished him to remain within for her sake. He was no coward, either. Iwould give the whole settlement if it would restore him to life. TheGovernor thought it an excellent, but venturesome plan. But we must havecolonists if ever we are to make a town that will be an honor to NewFrance. "

"It is not such a complete ruin. We have lost two men, one woman, andthree children. Five Iroquois bodies have been found and two are badlywounded. "

"And two more out in the woods. They had better be buried, so as to stirup no more strife. It could not have been a large party, or we wouldhave suffered more severely. "

"The English have had many of these surprises. I think we have beenfortunate, even if we have fewer in numbers. And it would have beenworse if there had been growing crops. "

"I shall have the fortifications strengthened. And perhaps it would bewell to keep guard. "

They left Roleau in charge of the bodies and turned to the fort. Thewounded had been made comfortable. 

Rose sprang down the steps to meet Destournier. 

"Oh, have you found him? Miladi is almost dead with grief and anxiety. She is sure they have killed M. Giffard. "

"Poor wife! How will we tell her?"

"Oh, then he is dead?" The child's face was blanched with terror. 

"Yes, he has been killed by the cruel savages. But we have brought homehis body. Who is with her?"

"Wanamee and Madawando, who is saying charms over her. She is themedicine woman who brought back the Gaudrion baby when he was dead. Oh, can you not make her bring back M. Giffard? Miladi will surely die ofgrief. Couldn't they put some one in his place? Wouldn't the great Godlisten to the priest's prayers?" and she raised her humid, beseechingeyes. 

"My child, you loved him dearly. "

"Sometimes. Then he made me feel--well, as if I could run away. He wasnever cross. Oh, I think it was because he loved Miladi so very much, there was no room for any one else. And that is why I love youso--because you have no one belonging to you. "

"We are alike in that, " he made answer. 

He saw Wanamee presently. 

"She goes from one dying fit to another. Madawando brings her back. Butif he is dead, M'sieu, why should they not let her join him?"

Would she be happier in that great unknown land with him. What was therehere for her?

And some way he felt in part responsible. He had risked his life to saveDestournier's property. 

There were sad days in the fort. The weather came off comparativelypleasant, and the half-ruined huts were repaired, the wounded healed, the losses made good, as far as possible. The dead Iroquois were put ina trench, but better sepulture was provided for the colonists, and theservices over the body of M. Giffard were in a degree military. The twoRécollet priests were kindness and devotion personified, and they saidprayers every hour in their rude little chapel, where a candle was keptburning before the altar. 

They frowned severely on what they termed the mummeries of Madawando. Even the Indian converts, and they were few enough, lapsed into charmsand incantations in times of trouble. They willingly had their childrenbaptized, as if this was one of the charms to ward off danger. But thepriests labored with unabated courage. 

Miladi seemed to hover a long while between the two worlds, it wasthought, but the real spring was coming on, and all nature was reviving. She had never quite wanted to die, so at the lowest ebb she seemed towill herself back to life by some occult power. 

Rose meanwhile had run quite wild, but she had been Destournier'scompanion in his walks, in his canoe journeys; sometimes with MarieGaudrion, she was in and out of the settlement, and as she understood alittle of the several Indian languages, she was quite a favorite; butDestournier felt troubled about her at times. She was very fearless, very upright, and detected the subterfuges of the children of thewilderness, condemning them most severely. But they never seemed angrywith her. 

Sometimes he thought he would send her to France and begin her educationin a convent. But could the wild little thing who skipped and danced andsung, climbed rocks and trees, managed a canoe, tamed birds that cameand sang on her shoulder, endure the dull routine of convent life? Shecould read French quite fluently. She had taken an immense fancy toLatin, and caught the lines so easily when Destournier read them frommusical Horace, or the stirring scenes of the Odyssey, the only twoLatin books he owned. And her head was stuffed full of wild Indiantales. 

"I wonder, " she said one day, as she sat on the rocks, leaning againstDestournier's knee, the soft wind playing through the silken tendrils ofher hair--"I wonder if you should die whether I could be like miladi, and want the room dark and have every one go in the softest moccasins, and have headaches and the sound of any one's voice pierce through youlike a knife. It would be terrible. "

"Why do you think of that?"

"Because I love you best of everybody. The Governor is very nice, but heis in France so much and you are here. Then we can climb rocks togetherand sit in the forests and hear the trees talk. I go to M. Giffard'sgrave and say over the spells Madawando taught me, to bring him back, but he does not come. If he could, miladi would be bright and gay again, and we would dance and sing, and have merry times. If you died I shouldwant to die, too. "

He was touched by the child's simple devotion. 

"I am not going to die. Your Madawando told me I should live to be veryold. There were some curious lines in my hand. "

"I am so glad, " she said simply. 

"But you had better not tell the good priest that you are trying tobring M. Giffard back to life in this Indian fashion. They think it asin. "

"I do not like the priests, in their dirty gray gowns, and their headslooking as if they had been scalped. Only when they read in their book. It sounds like those great people in the wars of Troy. "

And this was a little Christian girl. Were not the priests also prayingthat the souls in purgatory might be lightened of their burden? and hesmiled. 

But somehow miladi pressed heavily upon his conscience. M. Giffard hadcome to _his_ assistance, to save his property, as well as to save humanlives. He lost sight of the great brotherhood of mankind, of the heroismof a truly noble soul. Was there anything he could do to lighten herburthen?

At last she expressed a desire to see him. He had looked to find herwasted away with grief, changed so that it would be sorrow to look uponher. She was pale, but, it seemed, more really beautiful than he hadever known her. Her gown was white, and she had a thin black scarfthrown around her shoulders which enhanced her fairness. There could beno shopping for mourning in this benighted country. 

"I thought I should go to him, " she said in her soft, half-languidvoice. "But the good Père believes there is something for me to do andthat I must be content to remain, and thankful to live. But all is sochanged. Sometimes I make myself believe that Laurent has gone back toFrance to settle matters. He counted so on our return. And that he willcome again for me. "

"You would like to go to friends?"

"Alas, there are not many. Some have gone to England, some to Holland, not liking the new King's policy. And some are dead. I should have noone to make a home for me. A woman's loneliness is intense. She cannotturn to business, nor go out and find friends. "

That was true enough. He pitied her profoundly. 

"Is it true our Governor is bringing his new wife to Quebec?" she askedpresently. 

"So the trading vessels have said. They are already loading up withfurs, and trade seems brisk. Of course it brings great confusion. I havetaken charge of M. Giffard's bales that came in last week. They hadbetter be sent as usual. The Paris firm is eager for them. They are afine lot. What is your pleasure?"

"Oh, relieve me of all care that you can. I am so helpless. Laurent dideverything. Women were never meant for business, he thought. I am nowiser than a child. "

She looked so helpless, so sweet, so dependent. 

"I shall be glad to do what I can. Yes, it would be no place for awoman. She could not manage matters. And if you like to trust me----"

"I would trust you in all things. Laurent thought your judgmentexcellent. He cared so much for you. Oh, if you will take charge----"

She looked up with sweet, appealing eyes. Did he not owe her someprotection and care? He was pondering silently. 

"You have relieved me of such a burthen. I think I shall get well now. I hardly knew whether I wanted most to live or die. "

"Life is best, sweetest. " It would be for her. He uttered the sentenceinvoluntarily. 

"You make it so. " Her eyes were bewitchingly downcast and a faint colorfluttered over her face, while her pretty hands worked nervously. 

He paced the gallery afterward in the twilight, when the stars wereslowly finding their way through the blue vault overhead, and the riverplashed by with its monotone of music. She might desire to return toFrance; this life in the wilderness did not appeal to delicate women. Yet she had taken it very cheerfully, he thought. 

If she decided to stay--there was one way in which he could befriendher, perhaps make her happy again. Marriage was hardly considered theoutcome of love in that period, many other considerations entered intoit. There were betrothals where the future husband and wife saw eachother for the first time. And they did very well. His ideas of marriedlife were a sort of good-fellowship and admiration, if the woman waspretty; good cooking and a desire to please among the commoner ones. Atfour and twenty he had not given the matter much consideration. MadameGiffard was full thirty, but she looked like a girl in her lightness andgrace. And he owed the memory of M. Giffard something. This step wouldmake amends and allay a troublesome sort of conscience in the matter. 

CHAPTER VIII

WHAT ROSE DID NOT LIKE

Eustache Boullé, the Governor's brother-in-law, had been not a littlesurprised when his sister was helped off the vessel at Tadoussac. Hegreeted her warmly. 

"But I never believed you would come to this wild country, " heexclaimed, with a half-mischievous smile. "I am afraid the Sieur has lethis hopes of the future run riot in his brain. He can see great thingswith that far gaze of his. "

"But a good wife follows her husband. We have had a rather stormy andtiresome passage, but praised be the saints, we have at last reached ourhaven. "

"I hope you will see some promise in it. We on the business side do notlook for pleasure alone. "

"It is wild, but marvellously fine. The islands with their frowningrocks and glowing verdure, the points, and headlands, the great gulf andthe river are really majestic. And you--you are a man. Two years havemade a wondrous change. I wish our mother could see you. She hasfrightful dreams of your being captured by Indians. "

He laughed at that. 

"Are the Indians very fierce here?" she asked timidly. 

"Some tribes are, the Hurons. And others are very easily managed if youcan keep fire-water away from them. "

"Fire"--wonderingly. 

"Rum or brandy. You will see strange sights. But you must not getfrightened. Now tell me about our parents. "

The Sieur was quite angry when he heard some boats had been up theriver, and bartered firearms and ammunition for peltries. It was theirdesire to keep the white man's weapons away from the savages. 

Pontgrave had left a bark for the Governor, and Eustache joined them asthey went journeying on to Quebec. It was new and strange to the youngwife, whose lines so far had been cast in civilized places. The wide, ever-changing river, the rough, unbroken country with here and there aclearing, where parties of hunters had encamped and left their rudestone fireplaces, the endless woods with high hills back of them, andseveral groups of Indians with a wigwam for shelter, that interested hervery much. Braves were spread out on the carpet of dried leaves, playingsome kind of game with short knives and smoking leisurely. Squawsgossiping and gesticulating with as much interest as their fairersisters, their attire new and strange, and papooses tumbling about. Theypassed great tangles of wild grapes that scented the air, here and therean island shimmering with the bloom of blueberries. 

Then the great cliff of Quebec came in sight. Latterly it had taken onan aspect of decay that caused the Governor to frown. The courtyard waslittered with rubbish from a building that had actually fallen down, anda new one was being erected. And though some of the houses were quitecomfortable within, the exterior was very unattractive, from thedifferent materials, like patches put on to add warmth in winter. 

The cannon rang out a salute, and the lilies of France floated in thebrilliant sunshine. Officers and men had formed a sort of cordon, andfrom the gallery several ladies looked down and waved handkerchiefs. TheHéberts, with their son and daughter, a few other women, a little abovethe peasant rank, had joined them and Madame Giffard, who still essayeda rôle of delicacy. 

The Sieur took formal possession again in the name of the new GovernorGeneral, the Duke of Montmorency. Then they repaired to the littlechapel, where the priest held a service of thanksgiving for their safearrival. 

The Récollets had chosen a site on the St. Charles river, some distancefrom the post, and had begun the erection of a church and convent, forheadquarters. Madame Champlain was pleased to hear this and held quite alengthy talk with Père Jamay, who was glad to find the new wife took afervent interest in religion, for even among the French women he had notawakened the influence he had hoped for, in his enthusiasm. 

Eustache began a tour of observation. Perched on a rock with a greathemlock tree back of her, he saw a small human being that he was quitesure was not an Indian girl. She was talking to something, and raisedher small forefinger to emphasize her words. What incantation was sheusing?

As he came nearer he saw it was a flock of pigeons. She had been feedingthem berries and grains of rye. They arched their glossy necks and cooedin answer. He watched in amaze, drawing nearer. What sprite of theforest was this?

Did she feel the influence that invaded her solitude? She glanced upwith wide startled eyes at the intruder, and looked at first as if shewould fly. 

"Do not be afraid, I will not harm you, " said a clear, reassuring voice. "Are you charming the wild things of the forest? Your incantation was inFrench--do they understand the language?"

"They understand me. "

There was a curious dignity in her reply. 

"You are French, Mam'selle?"

"I came from France a long while ago, so long that I do not remember. "

"Was it in another life? Are you human, or some forest nymph? For youare not out of childhood. "

"I do not understand. "

"But you must belong to some one----"

"No, " she said proudly. "I have never really belonged to any one. M'sieuDestournier is my good friend, and miladi took me when the Dubrays wentto the fur country. But she has been ill, and she does not like me asshe used. "

"But you must have a home----"

"I live at the post, mostly with Wanamee. Some days my lady sends forme. But I like out-of-doors, and the birds, and the blue sky, and thevoice of the falling waters that are always going on, and the great grayrocks, where I find mossy little caves with red bloom like tinypapooses, and the tall grasses that shake their heads so wisely, as ifthey knew secrets they would never tell. And the birds--even some of thelittle lizards with their bright black eyes. They are dainty, not likethe snakes that go twisting along. "

"Are you not afraid of them?"

"I do not molest them, " calmly. 

"You should have been down at the post. The Governor's wife has come. "

"Yes, I saw her. And I did not like her. But the Sieur was always kindto me. He used to show me journeys on the maps, and the great lakes hehas seen. He has been all over the world, I believe. "

"Oh, no. But I think he would like to. Why do you not like Madame deChamplain?"

She studied him with a thoughtful gaze. 

"M'sieu Ralph told me when he went to France he was betrothed to apretty little French girl, and that some day he would bring her here tobe his wife. I was glad of the little girl. I like Marie Gaudrion, butshe has to care for the babies and--she does not understand why I lovethe woods and the rocks. And I thought this other little _girl_----"

She was so naïve that he smiled, but it was not the smile to hurt one. 

"She was a little girl then. But every one grows. Some day you will be awoman. "

"No, I will not. I shall stay this way, " and she patted the grounddecisively with her small foot, the moccasin being little more than asandal, and showed the high arch and shapely ankle that dimpled with themotion. 

"I am afraid you cannot. But I think you will like Madame when you knowher. I am her brother, though I have not seen her for over two years. "

She studied him attentively. The birds began to grow restless andcircled about her as if to warn off the intruder. Then she suddenlylistened. There was a familiar step climbing the rock. 

M'sieu Destournier parted the hemlock branches. 

"I thought I should find you here. Why did you run away? Ah, M. Boullé, "but the older man frowned a little. 

"She left the company because my sister was grown up and not the littlegirl she imagined. Is she a product of the forest? Her very ignorance ischarming. "

"I am not ignorant!" she returned. "I can read a page in Latin, and thatmiladi cannot do. "

"She is a curious child, " explained Destournier, "but a sweet and noblenature, and innocent is the better word for it. The birds all know her, and she has a tame doe that follows her about, except that it will notventure inside the palisade. I'm not sure but she could charm a wolf. "

"The Loup Garou, " laughed the younger man. "I think nothing would dareharm her. But I should like my sister to see her. Oh, I am sure you willlike her, even if she is a woman grown. "

"Come, " said Destournier, holding out his hand. 

The pigeons had circled wider and wider, and were now purplish shadowsagainst the serene blue. Rose sprang up and clasped Destournier's hand. But she was silent as they took their way down. 

"Whatever bewitched my august brother-in-law about this place I cannotsee. Except that the new fort will sweep the river and render the townimpregnable from that side. It will be the key of the North. ButMontreal will be a finer town at much less cost. "

Rose was fain to refuse at the last moment, but M'sieu Ralph persuaded. The few women of any note were gathered in the room miladi had firstoccupied. Rose looked curiously at the daughter of M. Hébert--she was somuch taller than she used to be, and her hair was put up on her headwith a big comb. 

"Thou art a sweet child, " said Madame de Champlain. "And whose daughtermay she be?"

It was an awkward question. Destournier flushed unconsciously. 

"She is the Rose of Quebec, " he made answer, with a smile. "Her parentswere dead before she came here. "

"Ah, I remember hearing the Governor speak of her, and learned thatthere were so few real citizens in Quebec who were to grow up with thetown as their birthright. It is but a dreary-looking place, yet the wildriver, the great gulf, the magnificent forests give one a sense ofgrandeur, yet loneliness. And my husband says it is the same hundreds ofmiles to the westward; that there are lakes like oceans in themselves. And such furs! All Paris is wild with the beauty of them. Yet they liearound here as if of no value. "

"You would find that the traders appraise them pretty well, " and heraised his brows a trifle, while a rather amused expression played abouthis eyes. 

"Is there always such a turmoil of trade?"

"Oh, no. The traders scatter before mid-autumn. The cold weather sets inand the snow and ice are our companions. The small streams freeze up. But the Sieur has written of all these things in his book. "

He looked inquiringly at her for a touch of enthusiasm, but her sweetface was placid. 

"Monsieur my husband desired that I should be educated in his religionin the convent. We do not take up worldly matters, that is notconsidered becoming to girls and women. We think more of the souls thatmay be saved from perdition. The men go ahead to discover, the priestscome to teach these ignorant savages that they have souls that must bereturned to God, or suffer eternally. "

There spoke the devotee. Destournier wondered a little how the Sieur hadcome to choose a dévote for a wife. For he was a born explorer, with abody and a will of such strength that present defeat only spurred himon. But where was there a woman to match him, to add to his courage andresolve! Perhaps men did not need such women. Destournier was not anenthusiast in religious matters. He had been here long enough tounderstand the hold their almost childish superstitions had on theIndians, their dull and brutish lack of any high motive, their brutaland barbarous customs. They were ready to be baptized a dozen times overjust as they would use any of their own charms, or for the gain of sometrifle. 

Madame seemed to study the frank face of the little girl. How beautifulher eyes were; her eager, intelligent, spirited face; the fine skin thatwas neither light nor dark, and withstood sun and wind alike, and lostnone of its attractive tints. But she was so different from the littlegirls sent to the nuns for training. They never looked up at you withthese wide-open eyes that seemed to question you, to weigh you. 

"There is no convent here where you can be taught?" addressing herselfto the child. 

"The fathers are building one. But it is only for the men. The womencook and learn to dress deerskins until they are like velvet. They mustmake the clothing, for not a great deal comes from France. And it wouldonly do for ladies like you and Madame Giffard. "

"But there must be some education, some training, some prayers, " and thelady looked rather helpless. 

She was very sweet and beautiful in her soft silken dress of gray, thatwas flowered in the same color, and trimmed with fur and velvet. Fromher belt depended a chain of carved ivory beads and a crucifix, fromanother chain a small oval looking-glass in a silver frame. Her flaringcollar of lace and the stomacher were worked in pearls. Many Parisianshad them sewn with jewels. 

"I can read French very well, " said Rose, after a pause. "And someLatin. "

"Oh, the prayers, and some of the old hymns----"

"No, it isn't prayers exactly--except to their gods. There are so manygods. Jove was the great one. "

"Oh, my child, this is heresy. There is but one God and the Holy Virgin, and the saints to whom you can make invocation. "

"Well, then I think you have a number of gods. Do you pray to them all?And what do you pray for?"

"For the wicked world to be converted to God, for them to love Him, andserve Him. "

"And how do they serve Him?" inquired the child. "If He is the great GodFather Jamay teaches He can do everything, have everything. It is allHis. Then why does He not keep people well, so they can work, and notblight the crops with fierce storms. Sometimes great fields of maize areswept down. And the little children die; the Indians kill each other, and at times the white men who serve them. "

"Oh, child, you do not understand. There must be convents in this newworld for the training of girls. They must be taught to pray that God'swill may be done, not their own. "

"How would I know it was God's will?" asked the irreverent child, decisively, yet with a certain sweetness. 

"The good Father would tell you. "

"How would he know?"

"He lives a holy life in communion with God. "

"What is the convent like?" suddenly changing her thoughts. 

"It is a large house full of little ones, the sisters' cells, thenovices' cells----"

"There are some at the post. They put criminals in them. They are filthyand dark, " with a kind of protesting vehemence. 

"These are clean, because they are whitewashed, and you scrub the floortwice a week. There is a little pallet on which you sleep, a_prie-dieu_----"

"What is that?" interrupted the child. 

"A little altar, with a stone step on which you kneel. And a crucifix atthe top, a book of prayer and invocation. Many of the sisters pray anhour at midnight. All pray an hour in the morning, then breakfast andthe chapel for another hour, with prayers and singing. After that theclasses. The little girls are taught the catechism and manners, if theyare to go out in the world, sewing and embroidery. At noon prayers againand a little lunch, then work out of doors for an hour, and runningabout for exercise, catechising again, singing, supper and a chapelhour, and then to bed. But the nuns spend the evening in prayer, so dothe devout. "

"Madame, I shall never go in a convent, if the Fathers build one forgirls. I like the big out-of-doors. And if God made the world He made itfor some purpose, that people should go out and enjoy it. I like thewilderness, the great blue sky, the sun and the stars at night, thetrees and the river, and the birds and the deer and the beautiful wildgeese, as they sail in great flocks. If I was shut up in a cell I shouldbeat my head against the stones until it was a jelly, and then I shouldbe dead. "

Madame de Champlain looked at the child in amaze. In her decorous lifeshe had known nothing like it. 

"And I wish there were no women. I do not like women any more. Men arebetter because they live out of doors and do not pray so much. Exceptthe priests. And they are dirty. "

Then she turned away and went out on the gallery, with a curiouslyswelling heart. Oh, why was not Marie Gaudrion different? What madepeople so unlike. If there was some one----

"Ha, little maid, where are you running to so fast?" exclaimed alaughing voice. "Have you seen my sister yet?"

Eustache Boullé caught her arm, but she shook him off, and stood upsquarely, facing him. What vigor and resolution there was in her smallbewitching face. 

"Hi, hi! thou art a plucky little _fille_, ready for a quarrel by thelooks of thy flashing eyes. What have I done to thee, that thou shouldstshake me off as a viper?"

"Nothing! I am not to be handled roughly. I am going my way, and I thinkit will not interfere with thine. "

A pleasant smile crossed his face which made him really attractive, andhalf disarmed her fierceness. 

"My way is set in no special lines until I return to Tadoussac. Hastthou seen my sister?"

She nodded. 

"Every one loves her. She is as good as she is beautiful. And she willcharm thee, " in a triumphant tone, gathering that the interview had notalready done this. 

"I am not to be charmed in that fashion. Yes, she is beautiful, but shewould like me to be put in a convent. And I would throw myself in theriver first. "

"There are no convents, little one. And but few people to put into them. In a new country it is best that they marry and have families. Whenthere are too many women then convents play a useful part. "

"Let me pass, " she cried disdainfully, but not trying to push aside. 

"Tell me where you go!"

"To Mère Gaudrion's to see that soft-headed Marie. I wish she had someideas, but she is good and cheerful, and does as she is told. "

"You are not very complimentary to your friend. "

"But if I said she had a bad temper, and told what was not true, andslapped her little brothers and sisters, that would be a falsehood. Andif I said she understood the song of the birds and the sough of the windamong the trees, and the running, tumbling little streams that arealways saying 'oh! let me get to the gulf as soon as possible, for Iwant to see what a great ocean is like, ' it would not be true either. Ilike Marie, " calmly. 

"Thou art a curious little casuist. I am glad you like her. It showsthat you are human. There are strange creatures in the woods and wildsof this new world. "

"There is the Loup Garou, but I have not seen him. He gets changed froma man to a fierce dog, and if you kill the dog, the man dies. There isthe Windigo, and the old medicine woman can call strange things out of asick person who has been bewitched, and then he gets well. But M. Destournier laughs at these stories. "

The young man had been backing slowly toward the steps and she hadfollowed without taking note. 

Now he said--"Let me help you down. "

"I am not lame, M'sieu, neither am I blind. "

"Will you take me to see Marie Gaudrion?"

"You would laugh at her, I see it in your eyes. "

"Are my eyes such telltales?"

He had not the placid fairness of his sister, and his chestnut haircurled about his temples. His cheeks were red enough for a girl. 

"Why should you want to see her?"

"I want to see all there is in Quebec. I want to know how the colonyprogresses. I may put it in a book. "

"Like the Governor. But you could not make maps out of people, " with anair of triumph. 

"I'm not so sure. See here. "

He drew from his pocket a roll and held one of the leaves before hereyes. 

"Oh, that is old Temekwisa sitting out by the hut. And, M'sieu, he lookshalf drunken, as he nearly always is. And that is Jacques Barbeaubreaking stone. Why, it is wonderful. And who else have you?"

There were several Indians in a powwow around the fire, there was awoman with a papoose on her back, and a few partly done. 

"And the Sieur--and your sister?" eagerly. 

"I have tried dozens of times and cannot please myself. The Indians haveabout the same salient points, and that lack of expression when they aretranquil. They are easy to do. And I can sometimes catch the fierceanger. At home I would have a teacher. Here I have to go by myself, try, and tear up. Then I am busy with many other things. "

Her resentment had mostly subsided. His gift, if it could be calledthat, fascinated her. She had reproduced wonderful pictures in herbrain, but to do them with her hand would be marvellous, like the Sieurwriting his books. 

They had reached the garden of the Gaudrions. Pierre was employedregularly now and was studying the plans of the new fort. Marie wasseated on the grass, cutting leather fringe for garments and leggings. You could use up otherwise useless bits that way. The Mère was fartherdown pulling weeds from the carrot bed, and directing the labors of twochildren, at whom she shook a switch now and then. Marie had a baby oneach side of her, tumbling about in the grass. 

She looked up and nodded, while a heavy sort of smile settled about herlips, the upper one protruding a little, on account of two prominentteeth. Eustache had seen the peasant type at home, the low forehead, thedeep-set eyes, the short nose, flattened at the base, the wide mouth andrather broad, unmeaning countenance, the type of women who bear burthenswithout complaining and do not resent when they are beaten. Marie had anabundance of blue-black hair, a clear skin, and a soft color in hercheeks. 

Boullé glanced from one to the other, the lithe figure, the spiritedface, the eyes that could flash and soften and sparkle with mirth almostin a minute, it seemed. What a distance lay between them. 

"Marie, this is"--then Rose paused and flushed, and glanced at herunbidden companion. 

"I am Eustache Boullé and my sister is the wife of the Governor deChamplain. And though I have been up and down the river I have neverreally visited Quebec before. "

Marie nodded and went on cutting fringe. 

"And he has done pictures--Temekwisa, that you would know in a minute. He did them with a pencil. Show them to her, " she ordered, in a prettyperemptory manner, as with a graceful gesture of the hand she invitedhim to be seated on the grass, deftly rolling one baby over, who staredan instant, and then fell to sucking his fist. 

Marie's heavy face lighted up with a kind of cheerful surprise. 

"Why did you not go up and see them come in? And after the service ofthanks, almost everybody went to see our dear Sieur's wife. She isbeautiful in the face and wears a silken gown, and a little cap so fineyou can see her hair through it. And she has small hands that look likesnow, but not many rings, like Madame Giffard. "

"_Ma mère_ went to the prayers, but we could not both go. I saw the lineof boats and heard the salute. And your sister will live here with theGovernor?"

Eustache wanted to laugh, but commanded his countenance. 

"Yes, though 'tis a dreary place to live in after gay France. I long togo back. "

"They are to build a new fort. My father will work on it, and mybrother, Pierre. And he wonders that you do not come oftener, Rose. "

"There has not been a moonlight in a long while. I cannot come in thedark. And now he wants his own way in all the plans and I like mine. Hehas grown so big he is not amusing any more. "

"But he likes you just as well, " the girl said naïvely. 

Eustache glanced. Rose did not change color at this frank admission. 

Then the gun boomed out to announce the day's work for the governmentwas over. 

Rose sprang up. "It will soon be supper time, " she said. 

"Stay and have it with us. There are some cold roasted pigeons, withspiced gravy turned over them. You shall have a whole one. "

"You are very good, Marie, but there are so many men about who have beendrinking too much, that M. Destournier would read me a long lecture. "

"But Pierre would walk up with thee. "

Eustache had gathered up his pictures. They had only been an excuse toprolong his interview with Rose. 

"I will see that no harm comes to your friend. Adieu, Mam'selle, " and hebowed politely, at which Marie only stared. 

"We are very good friends, are we not?" as he was parting with thepretty child. 

"But I might not like you to-morrow, " archly. 

CHAPTER IX

ABOUT MARRIAGES

The new fort was begun on the summit of the cliff, almost two hundredfeet above the water, and the guns would command it up and down. A gooddeal of stone was used. New houses were being reared in a much betterfashion, the crevices thickly plastered with mortar, the chimneys ofstone, with generous fireplaces. Destournier had repaired his smallsettlement and added some ground to the cultivated area. 

"The only way to colonize, " declared the Sieur. "If we could rouse theIndians into taking more interest. Civilization does not seem to attractthem, though the women make good wives, and they are a scarce commodity. The English and the Dutch are wiser in this respect than we. Whenchildren are born on the soil and marry with their neighbors, one may besure of good citizens. "

The church, too, was progressing, and was called Notre Dame des Anges. Madame de Champlain was intensely religious, and used her best effortsto further the plans. She took a great interest in the Indian children, and when she found many of the women were not really married to thelaborers around the fort, insisted that Père Jamay should perform theceremony. The women were quite delighted with this, considering it agreat mark of respect. 

She began to study the Algonquin language, which was the most prevalent. She had brought three serving women from France, but they were notheroic enough to be enamored of the hardships. There was so littlecompanionship for her that but for her religion she would have had alonely time. The Héberts were plain people and hardly felt themselves ona par with the wife of their Governor, though Champlain himself, withmore democratic tastes, used often to drop in to consult the farmer andtake a meal. 

Madame Giffard was not really religious. She was fond of pleasure andgames of cards, and really hated any self-denial, or long prayers, though she went to Mass now and then. But between her and the earnest, devoted Hélène there was no sympathy. 

The new house was ready by October. Hélène would fain have had it madeless comfortable, but this the Governor would not permit. It would behung with furs when the bitter weather came in. 

No one paid much attention to Rose, who came and went, and wanderedabout at her own sweet will. Eustache Boullé was fairly fascinated withher, and followed her like a shadow when he was not in attendance on hissister. He persuaded her to sit for a picture, but it was quiteimpossible to catch her elusive beauty. She would turn her head, changethe curve of her pretty lips, allow her eyes to rove about and then letthe lids drop decorously in a fashion he called a nun's face; but it wasadorable. 

"I shall not be a nun, " she would declare vehemently. 

"No, Mam'selle, thou art the kind to dance on a man's heart and make himmost happy and most wretched. No nun's coif for that sunny, tangled mopof thine. "

He would fain have lingered through the winter, but a peremptory messagecame for him. 

"I shall be here another summer and thou wilt be older, and understandbetter what life is like. "

"It is good enough and pleasant enough now, " she answered perversely. 

"I wonder--if thou wilt miss me?"

"Why, yes, silly! The splendid canoeing and the races we run, and I maybe big enough next summer to go to Lachine. I would like to rush throughthe rapids that Antoine the sailor tells about, where you feel as if youwere going down to the centre of the world. "

"No woman would dare. It would not be safe, " he objected. 

"Men are not always lost, only a few clumsy ones. And I can swim withthe best of them. "

"M. Destournier will not let you go. "

"He is not my father. I belong just to myself, and I will do as Ilike. "

She stamped her foot on the ground, but she laughed as well. He was notnineteen yet, but a man would be able to manage her. 

She did miss him when he was gone. And it seemed as if Marie grew morestupid and cared less for her. And that lout of a Jules Personeau wouldsit by her on the grass, or help her pick berries or grapes and openthem skilfully, take out the seeds or the pits of plums, and place themon the flat rocks to dry. He never seemed to talk. And Rose knew that M. Destournier scolded because he was not breaking stone. 

He was building a new house himself, and helping the Sieur plan out thepath from the fort up above to the settlement down below. They did notdream that one day it would be the upper and the lower town, and that onthe plain would be fought one of the historic battles of the world, where two of the bravest of men would give up their lives, and thelilies of France go down for the last time. Quebec was beginning to lookquite a town. 

Destournier's house commanded his settlement, which was more stronglyfortified with a higher palisade, over which curious thorn vines weregrowing for protection. He had a fine wheat field, and some tobacco. OfIndian corn a great waving regiment planted only two rows thick so as togive no chance for skulking marauders. 

The house of M. Giffard was falling into decay. Miladi had sent toFrance early in the season for many new stuffs and trinkets, and thesettlement of some affairs, instead of turning all over to Destournier. The goods had come at an exorbitant price, but there had been a greattangle in money matters, and at his death his concessions had passedinto other hands. 

"They always manage to rob a woman, " he thought grimly. 

"I supposed you were to leave things in my hands, " he said, a littleupbraidingly, to her. 

"I make you so much trouble. And you have so much to do for the Governorand your settlement, and I am so weak and helpless. I have never beenstrong since that dreadful night. I miss all the care and love. Oh, ifyou were a woman you would know how heart-breaking it was. I wish I weredead! I wish I were dead!"

"And you do not care to go back to France?"

"Do not torment me with that question. I should die on the voyage. Andto be there without friends would be horrible. I have no taste for aconvent. "

A great many times the vague plan had entered his mind as a sort ofduty. Now he would put it into execution. 

"Become my wife, " he said. He leaned over and took her slim hands in hisand glanced earnestly into her eyes, and saw there were fine wrinklessetting about them. What did it matter? She needed protection and care, and there was no woman here that he could love as the romancesdescribed. He was too busy a man, too practical. 

She let her head drop on his broad breast. She had dreamed of this andused many little arts, but had never been sure of their effect. Therewere the years between, but she needed his strength and devotion morethan a younger woman. 

"Oh, ought I be so happy again?" she murmured. "There is so much that isstrong and generous to you that a woman could rest content in giving herwhole life to you, her best love. "

He wished she had not said that. He would have been content that herbest love should lie softly in the grave, like an atmosphere around thesleeping body of Laurent Giffard, whom he had admired very much, and whohad loved his wife with the fervor of youth. He drew a long breath ofpity for the man. It seemed as if he was taking something away from him. 

"Is it true?" she asked, in a long silence. 

"That I shall care for you, yes. That you will be my wife. " Then hekissed her tenderly. 

"I am so happy. Oh, you cannot think how sad I have been for months, with no one to care for me, " and her voice was exquisitely pathetic. 

"I have cared for you all this while, " he said. "You were like a sisterto whom I owed a duty. "

"Duty is not quite love, " in her soft murmurous tone, touching his cheekcaressingly. 

He wondered a little what love was like, if this tranquil half pity wasall. Madame de Champlain was like a child to her husband, the womenemigrants thus far had not been of a high order, and the marriages hadbeen mostly for the sake of a helpmeet and possible children. TheGovernor had really encouraged the mixed marriages, where the Indianwomen were of the better sort. A few of them were taking kindly toreligion, and had many really useful arts in the way of making garmentsout of dressed deerskins. He chose rather some of those who had beentaken prisoners and had no real affiliation with the tribes. They felthonored by marrying a white man, and now Père Jamay performed a legaland religious ceremony, so that no man could put away his wife. 

"Oh, what do you think!" and Rose sprang eagerly to Destournier, catching him by the arm with both hands and giving a swing, as he waspacing the gallery, deep in his new plans. "It is so full of amusementfor me. And I can't understand how she can do it. Jules Personeau issuch a stupid! And that great shock of hair that keeps tumbling into hiseyes. It is such a queer color, almost as if much sitting in the sun wasturning it red. "

"What about Jules? He is very absent-minded nowadays, and does notattend to his work. The summer will soon be gone. "

"Oh, it isn't so much about Jules. Marie Gaudrion is going to marryhim. "

"Why, then I think it is half about Jules, " laughing down into the eagerface. "A girl can't be married alone. "

"Well, I suppose you would have to go and live with some one, " in apuzzled tone. "But Jules has such rough, dirty hands. He caught me a fewdays ago and patted my cheek, and I slapped him. I will not have roughhands touch me! And Marie laughs. She is only thirteen, but she says sheis a woman. I don't want to be a woman. I won't have a husband, and betaken off to a hut, and cook, and work in the garden. M'sieu, I shouldfly to the woods and hide. "

"And the poor fellow would get no dinner. " He laughed at her vehemence. "I suppose Jules is in love and we must excuse his absent-mindedness. Will it be soon?"

"Why, yes, Jules is getting his house ready. Barbe is to help her motherand care for the babies. I like Marie some, " nodding indecisively, "butI wish there was a girl who liked to run and play, and climb trees, andtalk to the birds, and oh, do a hundred things, all different from theother. "

She gave a little hop and a laugh of exquisite freedom. She was full ofrestless grace, as the birds themselves; her blooming cheeks and shiningeyes, the way she carried her head, the face breaking into dimples withevery motion, the mouth tempting in its rosy sweetness. He bent andkissed her. She held him a moment by the shoulders. 

"Oh, I like you, I like you, " she cried. "You are above them all, youhave something, "--her pretty brow knit, --"yet you are better than theSieur even, the best of them all. If you will wait a long while I mightmarry you, but no other, no other, " shaking her curls. 

He laughed, yet it was not from her naïve confession. She did notrealize what she was saying. 

"How old am I?" insistently. 

"About ten, I think. "

"Ten. And ten more would be twenty. Is that old?"

"Oh, no. "

"And Madame de Champlain was twelve when she was married in France. Well, I suppose that is right. And--two years more! No, M'sieu, I shallwait until I am twenty. Maybe I shall not want to climb trees then, norscramble over rocks, nor chase the squirrels, and pelt them with nuts. "

"Thou wilt be a decorous little lady then. "

"That is a long way off. "

"Yes. And Wanamee is calling thee. "

"The priest says we must call her Jolette, that is her Christian name. Must I have another name? Well, I will not. Good-night, " and away sheran. 

He fell into rumination again. What would she say to his marriage? Hehad a misgiving she would take it rather hardly. She had not been sorapturously in love with miladi of late, but since the death of herhusband, the rather noisy glee of the child had annoyed her. She wouldbe better now. Of course they would keep the child, she had no otherfriends, nor home. 

Marie Gaudrion's marriage was quite a mystery to Rose. That any onecould love such an uncouth fellow as Jules, that a girl could leave thecomfortable home and pretty garden, for now the fruit trees had grownand were full of fragrant bloom in the early season, and the ripeningfruit later on, and go to that dismal little place under the rocks. 

"You see it will be much warmer, " Jules had said. It was built againstthe rock. "This will shield us from the north wind and the heavy snows, and another year we will take a place further down in the allotment. Iwill lay in a store of things, and we will be as happy as the squirrelsin their hollow tree. "

Marie and her mother cleared it up a bit. The floor was of rough planksfilled in with mortar, and skins were laid down for carpet. There wasbut one window looking toward the south, and the door was on that sidealso. Then a few steps and a sort of plateau. Inside there was a boxbunk, where the household goods were piled away inside. A few shelveswith dishes, a table, and several stools completed the furnishing. 

So on Sunday they went up to the unfinished chapel on the St. Charles, where a Mass was said, and the young couple were united. It was a lovelyday, and they rowed down in the canoes to the Gaudrions, where a feastwas given and healths drank to the newly-wedded couple, in which theywere wished much happiness and many children. The table was spreadluxuriously; the Mère had been two days cooking. Roasts and broils, gameand fish, and many of the early fruits in preserve and just ripened. Sunday was a day for gorging in this primitive land, while summerlasted. No one need starve then. 

Afterward the young couple were escorted home. 

Rose sat out in the moonlight thinking of the strangeness of it all. Howcould Marie like it? Mère Gaudrion had said, "Jules will make a goodhusband, if he is clumsy and not handsome. He will never beat Marie, andnow he will settle to work again, and make a good living, since courtingdays are over. "

The child wondered what courting days were. Several strange ideas cameinto her mind. It was as if it grew suddenly and there were things inthe world she would like to know about. Perhaps M. Ralph could tell her. Miladi said she was tiresome when she asked questions, and there wasalways a headache. Would her head ache when she was grown up? And shestood in curious awe of Madame de Champlain, who would only talk of thesaints and martyrs, and repeat prayers. She was very attractive to thechildren, and gathered them about her, letting them gaze in her littlemirror she carried at her belt, as was the fashion in France. They likedthe touch of her soft hand on their heads, they were sometimes allowedto press their tawny cheeks against it. Then she would try to instructthem in the Catechism. They learned the sentences by rote, in an eagersort of way, but she could see the real understanding was lacking. 

"It seems an almost hopeless task, " she said one day to Père Jamay. "Andthough the little girls in the convent seemed obtuse, they didunderstand what devotion was. These children would worship me. When Italk of the blessed Virgin they are fain to press their faces to the hemof my gown, taking it to mean that I am our dear Lady of Sorrows. Neither do they comprehend penance, they suppose they have offended mepersonally. "

"'Tis a curious race that God has allowed to sink to the lowest ebb, that His laborers should work the harder in the vineyard. I do notdespair. There will come a glorious day when every soul shall bow theknee to our blessed Lord. The men seem incapable of any true discernmentof holy things. But we must not weary in well-doing. Think what aglorious thing it would be to convert this nation to the true faith. "

The lady sighed. Many a day she went to her _prie-dieu_ not seven times, but twice that, to pray for their conversion. 

"We must win the children. They will grow up with some knowledge andcast aside their superstitions. We must be filled with holy zeal andnever weary doing our Master's will. "

She had tried to win Rose, as well as some of the more intelligenthalf-breeds. But prayers were wearisome to the child. And why should youask the same thing over and over again? Even M. Destournier, she hadnoticed, did not like to be importuned, and why then the great God, whohad all the world to care for, and sent to His creatures what He thoughtbest. 

The child looked out on the wide vault so full of stars, and her heartwas thrilled with the great mystery. What was the beautiful world beyondthat was called heaven? What did they know who had never seen it? Thesplendor of the great white moon--moving majestically through theblue--touched her with a sort of ecstasy. Was it another world? And howtenderly it seemed to touch the tree tops, silvering the branches anddeepening the shadows until they were haunts of darkness. Did not othergods dwell there, as those old people in the islands on the other sideof the world dreamed? Over the river hung trailing clouds of mistysheen, there was a musical lapping of the waves, the curious vibrationof countless insects--now the shrill cry of some night bird, then suchsoftness again that the world seemed asleep. 

"_Ma fille, ma fille_, " and the half-inquiring accent of Wanamee's voicefell on her ear. 

"I am here. It is so beautiful. Wanamee, did you ever feel that you mustfloat away to some other world and learn things that seem to hover allabout you, and yet you cannot grasp?"

"You cannot, child, until you are admitted to the company of the saints. And this life is very comfortable, to some at least. Thou hast notrouble, little one. But it is time for the bed. "

"Why can I not sleep out here? The Indians sleep under the tree. So hasM'sieu Ralph, and the Governor. Oh, I should like to and have just thatgreat blue sky and the stars over me. "

"They would not show under the tree branches. And there are wolves andstrollers that it would not be safe to see at this time of the year, when there are so many drunken traders. So come in, child. "

She rose slowly. A little room in the end of the Giffard house wasdevoted to her and Wanamee. Two small pallets raised a little above thefloor, a stand with a crucifix, that the Governor's wife insisted wasnecessary, a box, in which winter bedding was stored, and that servedfor a seat, completed the simple furniture. 

Rose knelt before the stand. There were two or three Latin prayers sheoften said aloud, but to-night her lips did not move. This figure on thecross filled her with a kind of horror just now. 

"Mam'selle, " said the waiting Wanamee. 

The child rose. "You must pray for yourself to-night, " she said in asoft voice, throwing her pliant body on the pallet. "I do not understandanything about God any more. I do not see why He should send His Son todie for the thousands of people who do not care for Him. The greatManitou of the Indians did not do it. "

"_Ma fille_, ask the priest. But then is it necessary to ask God when wehave only to believe?"

"I am afraid I don't even believe, " was the hesitating reply. 

"Surely thou art wicked. There will be penance for thee. "

"I will not do penance either. You are cruel if you torture dumbanimals, and it is said they have not the keen feeling of humans. I amnot sure. But where one thinks of the pain or punishment he is bearingit is more bitter. And what right has another to inflict it upon you?"

Wanamee was silent. She would ask the good priest. But ah, could shehave her darling punished?

CHAPTER X

MILADI AND M. DESTOURNIER

"But what are you to do with this nice house? Why, the Governor's ishardly better. Will you live here and not at the post? And how prettythe furnishings are?"

Rose's face was wreathed in smiles, and the dimples played hide-and-seekin a most entrancing manner. 

"Yes, I am to live here. And you, and Wanamee, and Nugava, and----"

She clapped her hands and jumped up and down, she pirouetted around withgrace and lightness that would have enchanted the King of La BelleFrance. Where did she get this wonderful harmony of movement. His eyesfollowed her in admiration. She paused. "And what part is to be given tome?"

"This. And Wanamee will have the room between, to be within call. "

His cheek flushed. How was he to get his secret told?

"And this will be yours, M'sieu. I know it on account of the books. AndI can come in here and you shall teach me to read some of the newthings. I have been very naughty and lazy, have I not. But in thewinter one cannot roam about. Oh, how delightful it will be!"

She looked up out of such clear, happy eyes. How could he destroy herdelight--he knew it would. 

"There will be some one else here, " he began. 

"Not Père Jamay. He is with Madame a good deal. I do not like his sourface when he frowns upon me. And--oh, you will not have me sent toFrance and put in a convent. I would kill myself first. "

"No, no. It is not the priest. I am not over in love with him myself. Itis some one sweet and pretty, and that you love----"

"That I love"--wonderingly. 

He took both her hands in his. 

"Rose, " with tender gravity, "I am going to marry Madame Giffard. "

She stiffened up and looked straight at him, the glow on her cheekfading to marble paleness. 

"_Petite_, you did love her dearly. You will love her again for my sake. No, you shall not go away in this angry mood. Do you not wish me to behappy?"

"Miladi belongs to her husband, who is dead. When she goes to heaven hewill be there, and you two--well, one must give up. Do you not rememberthat Osaka murdered his wife because she went away from him and marriedanother brave?"

He was amused at her passion. 

"I will give her up then. It is only for this life. And she needs someone to care for her. Why are you so opposed to it, when you used tolove her? She will be like a mother to you. "

"I do not want any mother, " proudly. "And she does not love me now. Oh, one can feel it just like a blast of unfriendly wind. And when she hasyou she will not care for any one else. "

"But I can care for you both. You know you belong to me. And sometime, when new people cross the ocean, some brave, fine young fellow will loveyou and want to marry you. "

"I will not marry him. "

"Oh, my little girl, be reasonable. We shall all be happy here together. And you will grow up to womanhood and learn many things that will pleaseyou and be of great service. And will go to France some day----"

"I will not go anywhere with her. Unclasp my hands. I do not belong toyou any more, to no one, I am----"

She burst into a passion of weeping. In spite of her struggles heclasped her to his heart and kissed the throbbing temples, that seemedas if they would burst. 

"Oh, Rose, my little one, whom I love as a child, and always shall love, listen to me and be comforted. "

"She will not let you love me. She will want me to be sent to France andbe put in a convent. Father Jamay said that was what I needed. Oh, youwill see!"

The sobs seemed to rend her small body. He could feel the beating of herheart and all his soul was moved with pity, although he knew her griefwas unreasonable. 

"And you are willing to make me very unhappy, to spoil all my pleasurein the new home. Oh, my child, I hardly thought that of you. "

She made another struggle and freed herself. She stood erect, it seemedas if she had grown inches. "You may be happy with her, " she said, witha dignity that would have been amusing if it had not been sad, and thenshe dashed out of the room. 

He sat down and leaned his elbow on the table, his head on his hand. Hehad gathered from several things miladi had suggested, that she wasrather indifferent to the child, but he did not surmise that Rose hadfelt and understood it. No one had a better right than he, since in allprobability her parentage would remain unknown. He would not relinquishher. She should be a daughter to him. He realized that he had a curiouslove for the child, that she had attracted him from the first. In theyears to come her beauty and winsomeness would captivate a husband, withthe dowry he could give her. 

For several days he saw very little of her. He was busy and miladi wasexigent. Rose wandered about, sometimes to the settlement, watching thebusy women dressing skins, making garments, cutting fringes, andembroidering wampum for the braves. The tawny children played about, thesmall papooses, strapped in their cases of bark, blinked andoccasionally uttered wearisome cries. Or she rowed about in her canoe, often with Pani, for the river current was rather treacherous. Then shescudded through the woods like a deer, winding in and out of the statelycolumns that were here silver-gray, there white; beech and birch, darkhemlocks, that not having space to branch out, grew up tall with a headalmost like a palm. Insects hummed and shrilled, or whirred like a tinyorchestra. Now and then a bird flung out a strain of melody, squirrelsran about, and the doe came and put its nose in her hand. She had tied astrip of skin, colored red, about its neck, that no one might shoot it. The rich, deep moss cushioned the ground. Occasionally an acorn fell. She would sit here in dreamy content by the hours, often just enjoying, sometimes puzzling her brains over all the mysteries that in the yearsto come education would solve. So few could read, indeed books were onlyfor the few. 

Then she ran up and down the rocks, hid in the nooks, came out again indryad fashion. She had been wont to laugh and make echoes ring about, but now her heart, in spite of all she could do, was not light enoughfor that. Wanamee was sore troubled by her reticence, for she was tooproud to make any complaint. Indeed, she did not know what to complainof. In her childish heart everything was vague, she could not reason, she could only feel that something had been snatched out of her life andset in another's. She would henceforth be lonely. 

"Miladi wants to see you, " said Wanamee one morning. "She wonders whyyou do not run in as you used. And she has something joyful to tellyou. "

Rose shut her lips tightly together and stamped on the floor. 

"Oh, _ma petite_, you have guessed then! Or, perhaps M'sieu told you. Miladi is to marry him, and they are to go to the nice new house he isbuilding. They are to take you and me and Pani. And he will have the twoMontagnais, who have been his good servants. We shall get out of thisold, tumble-down post station, and be near the Héberts. Then M'sieu isgetting such a nice big wheat field and garden. "

Rose was drawing long breaths. She would not cry or utter a complaint. Wanamee approached her, holding out both hands. 

"Do not touch me, " she entreated, in a passionate tone. "Do not sayanything more. When I am a little tranquil I will go and see her. I knowwhat she wants me to say--that I am glad. There is something just herethat keeps me from being glad, " and she pressed her hands tightly overher heart. "I do not know what it is. "

"Surely you are not jealous of miladi? They are grown-up people. AndM'sieu told her yesterday--I heard them talking--that you were to be achild to them, that they would both love you. Miladi has been irritable, and not so gay as she used, but she is better now, and will soon be herolden self. She was very nice and cheerful this morning, and laughedwith the joy of other days. Oh, child, do not disturb it by anytempers. "

Wanamee's eyes were soft and entreating. 

"Oh, you need not fear, " the child exclaimed, proudly. "Now I will go. "

She tapped at miladi's door, and a very sweet voice said--"Come, littlestranger. "

She opened it. Miladi was sitting by the small casement window, in oneof her pretty silken gowns, long laid by. There was a dainty rose flushon her cheek, but the hand she held out was much thinner than of yore, when in the place of knuckles there were dimples. 

"Where have you been all these days when I have not seen you, littlemaid? Come here and kiss me, and wish me joy, as they do in old France. For I am going to take your favorite as a husband, and you are to be ourlittle daughter. "

Rose lifted up her face. The kiss was on her forehead. 

"Now, kiss me, " and she touched the small shoulder with something like ashake, as she offered her cheek. 

It was a cold little kiss from lips that hardly moved. Miladi laughedwith a pretty, amused ripple. 

"In good sooth, " she said merrily, "some lover will teach you to kisspresently. Thou art growing very pretty, Rose, and when some of thegallants come over from Paris, they will esteem the foundling of Quebecthe heroine of romance. "

The child did not flush under the compliment, or the sting, but glanceddown on the floor. 

"Come, thou hast not wished me joy. "

"Madame, as I have not been to France I do not know how they wish joy. "

"Oh, you formal little child!" laughing gayly. "Do you not know what itis to be happy? Why, you used to be as merry as the birds in singingtime. "

"I can still be merry with the birds. "

"But you must be merry for M. Destournier. He wishes you to be happy, and has asked me to be a mother to you. Why, I fell in love with youlong ago, when you were so ill. And surely you have not forgotten when Ifound you on the gallery, in a dead faint. You were grateful foreverything then. "

Had she loved miladi so much? Why did she not love her now? Why was herheart so cold? like lead in her bosom. 

"I am grateful for everything. "

"Then say you are glad I am going to marry M. Ralph, who loves medearly. "

"Then I shall be glad you are to marry him. But I am sorry for M. Giffard, in his lonely grave. "

"Oh, horrors, child! Do you think I ought to be buried in the samegrave? There, run away. You give me the shivers. "

Rose made a formal little courtesy, and walked slowly out of the room, with a swelling heart. 

Miladi told of the scene to her lover daintily, and with someembellishments, adding--"She is a jealous little thing. You will bebetween two fires. "

"The fires will not scorch, I think, " smiling. "She will soon outgrowthe childish whim. "

In his secret heart there was a feeling of joy that he had touched suchdepths in the little girl's soul. Miladi was rather annoyed that he hadnot agreed to send her to some convent in France, as she hoped. But in ayear or two she might choose it for herself. 

They went up to the chapel to be married. The Governor gave the brideaway. She was gowned just as Rose had seen her that first time, only shewas covered with a fine deerskin cloak, that she laid aside as theywalked up the aisle, rather scandalizing the two Récollet fathers. Shelooked quite like a girl, and it was evident she was very happy. 

Then they had a feast in the new house, and it was the first occasion ofreal note there had been in Quebec. Rose was very quiet and reservedamong the grown folks, though M. De Champlain found time to chat withher, and tell her that now she had found real parents. 

After this there was a busy season preparing for the winter, as usual, drying and preserving fruits, taking up root vegetables and storingthem, gathering nuts, and getting in grains of all kinds. Now they keptpigs alive until about midwinter, and tried to have fresh game quiteoften. The scurvy was practically banished. 

As for Rose, the marriage made not so much difference. She was let verymuch alone, and rambled about as she listed, until the snows came. Occasionally she visited Marie, but everything was in a huddle in thesmall place, and the chimney often smoked when the wind was east. ButMarie seemed strangely content and happy. Or she went to the Gaudrions, which she really liked, even if the babies did tumble over her. 

She went sometimes to the classes the Governor's wife was teaching, andtranslated to the Indian children many things it was difficult for themto understand. 

Madame de Champlain would say--"Child, thou ought to be in the serviceof the good God and His Virgin Mother. He has given thee manyattractions, but they are to be trained for His work, not for thy ownpleasure. We are not to live a life of ease, but to deny ourselves forthe sake of the souls of those around us. "

"I think oftentimes, Madame, they have no souls, " returned the daringgirl. "They seem never able to distinguish between the true God andtheir many gods. And if they are ill they use charms. Their religion, Iobserve, makes them very happy. "

"There are many false things that please the carnal soul. That is whatwe are to fight against. Oh, child, I am afraid the evil one desiresthee strongly. Thou shouldst go to confession, as we do at home, andaccept the penances the good priests put upon thee. "

Confession had not made much headway with these children of the newworld. Father Jamay, to his great disgust, found they would tell almostanything, thinking to please him with a multitude of sins, and they wentoff to forget their penance. So it was not strongly insisted upon. 

Madame de Champlain was a dévote. In her secret heart she longed for theold convent life. Still she was deeply interested in the plans of theRécollet fathers, who were establishing missions among the Hurons andthe Nipissings, and learning the languages. She gave generously of herallowance, and denied herself many things; would, indeed, have given upmore had her husband allowed it. 

Captain Pontgrave came in to spend the winter, brave and cheerful, though he had lost his only son. While the men exchanged plans for thefuture, and smoked in comfort, Madame was often kneeling on a flat stoneshe had ordered sent to her little convent-like niche, praying for thesalvation of the new world to be laid at the foot of God's throne, andto be a glory to old France. But the court of old France was revellingin pleasure and demanding furs for profit. 

Destournier occasionally joined the conclave. His heart and soul were inthis new land and her advancement, but his wife demanded his companymost of his evenings. She sat in her high-backed chair wrapped in furslistening to his reading aloud or appearing to, though she often drowsedoff. But there was another who drank in every word, if she did not quiteunderstand. The wide stone chimney gave out its glowing fire of greatlogs, sometimes hemlock branches that diffused a grateful fragrancearound the room. On a sort of settle, soft with folds of furs, Rosewould stretch out gracefully, or curl up like a kitten, and withwide-open eyes turn her glance from the fascinating fire to the reader'sface, repeating in her brain the sentences she could catch. Sometimes itwas poetry, and then she fairly revelled in delight. 

After a few weeks she seemed to accept the fact of the marriage withequanimity, but she grew silent and reserved. She understood there was asecret animosity between herself and miladi, even if they were outwardlyagreeable. She had gathered many pretty and refined ways from Madame deChamplain, or else they were part of the unknown birthright. She hadturned quite industrious as well, the winter day seemed dreary when onehad no employment. She read a good deal too, she could understand theFrench, and occasionally amused herself translating. 

When the spring opened the Governor and several others went to the newtrading post and town, Mont Réal. There really seemed more advantageshere than at Quebec. There was a long stretch of arable land, plenty offruit trees, if they were wild; a good port, and more ease in catchingthe traders as they came along. There, too, stray Indians often broughtin a few choice furs, which they traded for various trifles, exchangingthese again for rum. 

Rose drew a long breath of delight when the spring fairly opened, andshe could fly to her olden haunts. Oh, how dear they were! Though nowshe often smuggled one of M. Ralph's books and amused herself readingaloud until the woods rang with the melodious sounds. 

Miladi liked a sail now and then on the river, when it was tranquil. Shedid not seem to grow stronger, though she would not admit that she wasill. She watched Rose with a curious half-dread. She was growing tall, but her figure kept its lithe symmetry. Out in the woods she sometimesdanced like a wild creature. Miladi had been so fond of dancing in M. Giffard's time, but now it put her out of breath and brought a pain toher side. She really envied the bright young creature in the grace androsiness of perfect health. 

This summer a band of Jesuits came to the colony. They received a ratherfrigid welcome from the colonists, but the Récollets, convinced thatthey were making very slow advance in so large a field, opened theirconvent to them, and assisted them in getting headquarters of their own. And the church in Quebec began to take shape, it was such a journey tothe convent services at the St. Charles river. 

There followed a long, cold winter. Miladi was housed snug and warm, butshe grew thinner, so that her rings would not stay on her slim fingers. There had been troubles with the Indians and at times M. Destournier wasobliged to be away, and this fretted her sorely. 

There was a great conclave at Three Rivers, to make a new treaty ofpeace with several of the tribes. A solemn smoking of pipes, passing ofwampum, feasts and dances. And then, as usual, the influx of traders. 

Madame de Champlain desired to return to France with her husband, whowas to sail in August. The rough life was not at all to her taste. 

"Oh, " said miladi, eagerly, when she heard this, "let us go, too. I amtired of these long, cold winters. I was not made for this kind of life. If M. Giffard had lived a year longer he would have had a competency;and then we should have returned home. Surely you have made money. "

"But mine is not where I can take it at a month's notice. I have beenbuilding on my plantation, weeding out some incompetent and drunkentenants, and putting in others. Pontgrave is going. Du Pare is much atthe new settlement at Beaupré. It would not be possible for me to go, but you might. "

"Go alone?" in dismay. 

"It would not be alone. Madame de Champlain would be glad of yourcompany. "

"A woman who has no other thought but continual prayers, and anxietiesfor the souls of the whole world. "

"Another year----"

"I want to go now"--impatiently. 

She was like a fretful child. He looked in vain now for the charms shehad once possessed. 

"I could not possibly. It would be at a great loss. And I am notenamored of the broils and disputes. How do I know but some charge maybe trumped up against me? The fur company seize upon any pretext. Andeven a brief absence might ruin some of my best plans. Marguerite, I ammore of a Canadian than a Frenchman. The Sieur has promised to interestsome new emigrants. I see great possibilities ahead of us. "

"So you have talked always. I am homesick for La Belle France. I want nomore of Canada, of Quebec, that has grown hateful to me. "

Her voice was high and tremulous, and there burned a red spot on eachcheek. 

"Then let me send you. You should stay a year to recuperate, and I maycome for you. "

"I will take Rose. "

"If she wishes. But I will not have her put in a convent. "

"She is like a wild deer. Do you mean to marry her to some half-breed?There seems no one else. The men who come on business leave wivesbehind. There is no one to marry. "

"You found some one, " he returned good-naturedly, smoothing her fairhair. 

"Can you find another?"

"She is but a child. There need to be no hurry. "

"She has outgrown childhood. To be sure, there is Pierre Gaudrion, whohangs about awkwardly, now and then. "

"She will never marry Pierre Gaudrion. She is of too fine stuff. "

"A foundling! Who knows aught about her? Most Frenchmen like a well-bornmother for their children. "

"She is in no haste for a husband. But do not let us dispute about her. You excite yourself too much. Think seriously of this project. The Sieurwill see you safely housed when once you are there. "

He turned and went out. She fell into a violent fit of weeping. Shecould coax anything out of Laurent, poor Laurent, who might have beenalive to-day but for the friendship he thought he owed M. Destournier. And they might now be in Paris, where there were all sorts of gaygoings-on. This life was too stupid for a woman, too cold, too lonely. And a wife should be a husband's first thought. Ralph was cold andcruel, and had grown stern, almost morose. 

He walked over to the plantation. By one of the log huts Rose stoodtalking to an Indian woman. Yes, she was no longer a child. She was talland shapely, full of vigor, glowing with health, radiant in coloring, yes, beautiful. There was much of the olden time about her in the smilesand dimples and eagerness, though she was grave in miladi's presence. 

Yet neither was she a woman. The virginal lines had not wholly filledout, but there was a promise of affluence that neither my lady nor theMadame possessed. For the lovely Hélène had dévote written in every lineof her face, a rapt expression, that seemed to lift her above theordinary world. The souls of those she came in contact with were thegreat thing. And though the Sieur was a good Catholic, he was also ofthe present world, and its advancement, and had always been inspiredwith the love of an explorer, and of a full, free life. He could neverhave been a priest. He had the right view of colonization, too. Homeswere to be made. Men and women were to be attached to the soil to makeit yield up the bountiful provision hidden in its mighty breast. 

And miladi! There had been so few women in his life that he knew nothingof contrast, or analysis. Some of the men took Indian wives for a yearor so: that had never appealed to him. He had been charmed by MadameGiffard from the very first meeting with her, but she was another man'swife, and she loved her husband. The pretty coquetries were a part ofthe civilized world over in France and meant only a graceful desire toplease. Then in her sorrow he pitied her profoundly, and felt that heowed her the highest and most sacred duty. 

But as he studied Rose now, and thought of a suggested lover in PierreGaudrion, his whole soul rose in revolt. And the other thought ofsending her away was equally distasteful. Why, she was the light andsweetness of the settlement. In a different fashion, she captured thehearts of the Indian women, and taught them the love of home-making, roused in some of them intelligence. How did she come by it? There wasWanamee. 

He did not dream that he had awakened a desire for knowledge in thegirl's breast and brain. But she had gone beyond him in the lore of thesea and the sky, and the romance of the trees, that to him werepromising materials for houses and boats. They were her friends. Shecould translate the soft murmur that ran through their leaves, or thesweet, wild whistle of the wind that blew in from the river or down fromthe high hills, --from the ice and snow of the fur country. And sometimeshe had seen her run races with the foaming river, where it whirled andeddied and fretted against a spur of the mighty rocks. All her life, from the day he found her on the rocks, seemed to pass before him in onegreat flash. He exulted that she belonged to no one, that he had thebest right to her. He could not have told why. Heaven had denied him achild of his very own, and he had learned that miladi considered babiesa wearisome burthen, fit only for peasants and Indian women. 

Did the saintly and beautiful Hélène think so as well? he wondered. Hehad learned a good deal about womankind since his marriage, but he madea grand mistake, he had learned only about one woman; and she was notthe noblest of her kind. 

Rose turned suddenly and saw him in that half-waiting attitude. Therewas little introspection, or analysis, in those days; people simplylived, felt without understanding. She had outgrown her first feeling ofaversion. In a vague fashion she realized that miladi needed protectionand care that no one but M. Destournier could give her. She was sorryshe could not ramble about, that she never brightened up, and sung anddanced any more. And this was why she, Rose, did not want to grow oldand give up the delights of vivid, enchanting exercise. 

Why miladi was captious and changeful, never of the same mind twice, shecould not understand. What suited her to-day bored her to-morrow. Shegave up trying to please, though she was generally ready and gracious. But she remarked it was the same way with M. Ralph, and he bore thecaptiousness with so sweet a temper that she felt moved to emulate him. In the depths of her heart there was a great pity, and it was sweet tohim, though neither ever adverted to it. 

CHAPTER XI

A FEAST OF SUMMER

As if his eyes had summoned her, she turned toward him. Out here inGod's wide, beautiful world they could be the same friends, and not fretany one. It might have been dangerous if he had not been so upright aman, with no subtle reasonings, and she less simple-hearted. 

"I have been helping Evening Star arrange her house. She is anxious tobe like a Frenchwoman, and has put off many Indian ways since she becamea convert. "

"But you do not give her her Christian name, " and he smiled. 

"Maria Assunta! It isn't half as pretty. She has such lovely deep eyes, and such velvety skin that her Indian name suits her best. What does itmatter?"

"Perhaps it helps them to break away from Indian superstitions. I do seesome improvement in the women, but the men----"

She laughed lightly. "The women were better in the beginning. They wereused to work. And all the braves care for is hunting and drinking bouts. If I were a priest, I should consider them hardly worth the trouble. "

"A fine priest you would make. They consider you half a heretic. "

"I go to chapel, M'sieu, when one can get there. I know a great manyprayers, but they are much alike. I would like all the world to beupright and good, but I do not want to stay in a stifling little boxuntil my breath is almost gone, and my knees stiff, saying a thing overand over. M'sieu, I can feel the Great Presence out on the beautifulrocks, as I look down on the river and watch the colors come and go, amber and rose, and greens of so many tints; and the music that isalways so different. Then I think God does not mean us to shut it allout and be melancholy. "

"You were ever a wild little thing. "

"I can be grave, M'sieu, and silent, when there is need, for others. ButI cannot give up all of my own life. I say to my heart--'Be still, it isonly for a little while'--then comes the dance of freedom. "

She laughed, with a ripple of music. 

"I wonder, " he began, after a pause, watching her lithe step and theproud way she carried her head--"I wonder if you would like to cross theocean, to go to France?"

"With the beautiful Madame? It is said she is to sail as soon as theboats are loaded. "

"Miladi might go with her. I could not be spared. And you----"

He saw the sudden, great throb that moved her breast up to her veryshoulders. 

"I should not want to go, " in a quiet tone. 

"But if I found at the last hour that I could go?"

She drew a long breath. "M'sieu, I have no desire to see France. I hearyou and the Governor talk about it, and the great court where the Kingspends his time in foolishness, and the Queen Mother plots wickedschemes. And they throw people in prison for religion's sake. Did I heara story of some people who were burned at the stake? Why, that is ascruel as the untaught Indians. And to cross the big, fearful ocean. Lastsummer we sailed up to the great gulf, you know, and you could see wherethe ocean and sky met. No, I like this old, rocky place the best. "

"But if miladi wanted you to go very much?"

"She will not want me very much, in her heart, " and she glanced up sostraightforwardly that he flushed. "No, you will leave me here and Iwill be very religious. I will go to the chapel every Sunday and pray. Iwill have a _prie-dieu_ in one corner, and kneel many times a day, praying that you will come back safely. I shall have something real topray for then. And--miladi will be very happy. "

There was a fervor, touching in its earnestness, that penetrated hissoul. 

"You will not miss me much, " he ventured. 

The quick tears sprang to her eyes. 

"Oh, yes, I should miss you, " and her voice had a little tremble in it. "But you would return. Oh, yes, I know the good God would send you back. See how many times he has sent the Sieur de Champlain back!"

She raised her face to his, and though the tears still beaded her longlashes, the lips smiled adorably. He could have kissed her, but his finerespect told him that endearment was sacred to another man now. 

"I do not think I shall go. Some one must be here to see that things donot go to wreck. "

She wondered if miladi would go without him. They walked on silently. Hewas thinking of the other man. The Sieur hoped to persuade somebetter-class emigrants on his next voyage. 

Whether miladi would have gone or not could not be known. She was takenquite ill. The doctor came down from Tadoussac, and said she would notbe strong enough to stand such a long voyage. 

Wanamee was her indefatigable nurse when her husband was away, as he wascompelled to be in the daytime. On a few occasions she insisted thatRose should read from some old volumes of poems. She used to watch, withstrange, longing eyes. Ah, if she could be young again, and strong. DidM'sieu Ralph often think of the years between, and that some time in thefuture she would be an old woman! He appeared to grow more vigorous andyounger. 

There were busy times in the little town. The traders seemed to berougher every year. They were not much inside the palisade, but they setup booths and tents on the shore edge, and there was much drinking andchaffering. 

"Thou must not go outside of the palisade, " said Destournier to Rose. "There are many rude, drunken men about. "

She did not demur. In truth she spent many hours comforting the Indianwomen for the loss of their angel lady, whom they had truly worshipped, and whom, in their vague ignorant fashion, they had confused with theVirgin. But she had wearied of the wildness and the lack of the societyof the nuns that she loved so dearly. Two of her maids would return withher, the other had married. 

And though she had not made very warm friends with Madame Destournier, she would have liked her companionship on the long voyage. And miladiwas really sorry to have the break, since there were so few women, evenif she did tire of her religion. 

"If we do not meet again here, " Madame Hélène said, in hersweetly-modulated voice, that savored of the convent, "it is to be hopedwe shall reach the home where we shall rest with the saints, when theDivine has had His will with us. Farewell, my sister, and may the HolyVirgin come to your assistance in the darkest hours. "

Then she knelt and prayed. Miladi shuddered. Was she going to die? Oh, no, she could not. 

The vessel came down from Tadoussac. All the river was afloat, as usual, at this season. A young man sprang off and pressed his sister's handwarmly. 

The Héberts, with their son and daughter, the married maid and herhusband and several others, who had stood a little in awe of theGovernor's lady, were there to wish her _bon voyage_. Her husbandassisted her, with the tenderest care. Was he happy with her, when shewas only half his age? M. Destournier wondered. 

When they started, a salute was fired. He was leaving his new fort buthalf completed. 

"Who was that pretty young girl who kept so close to the Héberts?"Eustache Boullé asked his sister. "There, talking to that group ofIndian women. "

"Oh, that is M. Destournier's ward. Surely, you saw her when you firstcame here, though she was but a child then. A foundling, it seems. GoodFather Jamay was quite urgent that she should be sent home, and spendsome years in a convent. "

"And she refused? She looks like it. Oh, yes, I remember the child. "

"Beauty is a great snare where there is a wayward will, " sighed thedevoted Hélène. "It is no country for young girls of the better class. Though no one knows to what class she really belongs. "

Eustache fell into a dream. What a bright attractive child she hadbeen. How could he have forgotten her? He was two-and-twenty now, andhis man's heart had been stirred by her beauty. 

If Rose was not so much of a dévote she began to make herself useful tomany of the Indian converts who missed their dear lady. To keep theirhouses tidy, to learn a little about the useful side of gardening, andhow their crops must be tended, to insure the best results. The childrencould be set to do much of this. 

Quebec fell back to its natural state. There was no more carousing alongthe river, no drunken men wrangling in the booths, no affrays. Rosecould ramble about as she liked, and she felt like a prisoner set free. Madame Destournier was better, and each day took a sail upon the river, which seemed to strengthen her greatly. Presently they would spend afortnight at the new settlement, Mont Réal. Many things were left in thehands of M. Destournier, and his own affairs had greatly increased. 

One afternoon Rose had espied a branch of purple plums, that no one hadtouched, on a great tree that had had space and sun, but fruited only onthe southern side. No stick or stone could dislodge them. How temptingthey looked, in their rich, melting sheen. 

"I must have some, " she said, eyeing the size of the trunk, the smoothbark, and the distance before there was any limb. Then she considered. Finding a crotched stick, a limb that had been broken off in some highwind, she caught it in the lowest branch and gently pulled it down untilshe grasped it with her hand. 

Yes, it was tough. She swung to it. Then she felt her way up cautiously, like a cat, and when she swung near enough, caught one arm around thetree trunk. It was a hard scramble, but she stood upon it triumphantly. It bore her weight, yet she must go higher, for she could not reach thetemptingly-laden limb. Now and then a branch swayed--if she had herstick up here that she had dropped so disdainfully when she had capturedthe limb. 

"It is a good thing to be sure you will not want what you fling away, "she said to herself, sententiously. 

"Aha!" She had caught the limb and drew it in carefully. There she sat, queen of a solitary feast. Were ever plums so luscious! Some of theripest fell to the ground and smashed, making cones of golden red, witha tiny cap of purple at the top. 

In the old Latin book she still dipped into occasionally there weredescriptions of orchards laden with fruit that made the air aroundfragrant. She could imagine herself there. 

In that country there were gods everywhere, by the streams, where onenamed Pan played on pipes. What were pipes that could emit music? Thenooks hid them. The zephyrs repeated their songs and laments. 

There was a swift dazzle and a bird lighted on the branch above her, andpoured out such a melodious warble that she was entranced. A bird fromsome other tree answered. Ah! what delight to eat her fill to measuresof sweetest music, and she suddenly joined in. 

The young fellow who had been following a beaten path paused in amaze. Was it a human voice? It broke off into a clear, beautiful whistle that, striking against a ledge of rock, rebounded in an echo. He crept alongon the soft grass, where the underbrush had some time been fired. Thetree was swaying to and fro, and a shower of fruit came to the ground. 

He drew nearer and then he espied the dryad. From one point he could seea girl, sitting in superb unconcern. Was it the one he had beensearching for diligently the last hour? How had she been able to perchherself up there?

Presently she had taken her fill of the fruit, of swinging daintily toand fro, of watching the sun-beams play hide-and-seek among the distantfir trees, that held black nooks in their shade, of studying withintense ecstasy the wonderful colors gathering around the setting sun, for which she had no name, but that always seemed as if set to somewondrous music. Every pulse stirred within her, making life itselfsweet. 

She stepped down on the lower limb. It would be rather rough to slidedown the tree trunk, but she had not minded it in her childhood. Theother way she had often tried as well. She held on to the limb above, and walked out on hers, until it began to sway so that she could hardlybalance herself. Then she gave one spring, and almost came down in theyoung man's arms. 

She righted herself in a moment, and stared at him. There was somethingfamiliar in the soft eyes, in the general contour of the face. 

"You do not remember me!"

"Let me think, " she said, with a calmness that amused him. "Yes, itcomes to me. I saw you on the boat that conveyed Madame de Champlain. You are her brother. "

"Eustache Boullé, at your service, " and he bowed gracefully. "But I didnot know you, Mam'selle. You were such a child four years ago. Even thenyou made an impression upon me. "

She was so little used to compliments that it did not stir her in theslightest. She was wondering, and at length she said--

"How did you find me?"

"By hard searching, Mam'selle. I saw your foster-mother--I believe sheis that--and she gave me a graphic description of your wanderings. Ipaused here because the beauty of the place attracted me. And I heard avoice I knew must be human, emulating the birds, so I drew nearer. Willyou forgive me when I confess I rifled your store? What plums these are!I did not know that Canada could produce anything so utterly delicious. We have some wild sour ones that get dried and made eatable in thewinter, when other things are scarce. And the Indians make aqueer-tasting drink out of them. "

"I found this tree quite by accident. I never saw it before, and if youwill look, there are only two branches that have any fruit. The otherside of the tree is barren. And that high branch will give the birds afeast. I do not think I could venture up there, " laughing. 

"I wondered how you ventured at all. And how you dared come down thatway. "

His eyes expressed the utmost admiration. 

"Oh, " she answered carelessly, "that was an old trick of mine, mychildhood's delight. I used to try how far I could walk out before thelimb would give me warning. "

"But if it had broken?"

"Why, I should have jumped, all the same. You did not go with yoursister and M. De Champlain. "

"I had half a mind to, then I reconsidered. "

She met his gaze calmly, as if she was wondering a little what hadprevented him. 

"And I came to Quebec. It begins to grow. But we want something besideIndians. M. Destournier has settled quite a plantation of them, and mysister has believed in their conversion. But when one knows themwell--he has not so much faith in them. They are apt to revert to theoriginal belief, crude superstitions. "

"It is hard to believe, " the girl said slowly. 

"That depends. Some beliefs are very pleasant and appeal to the heart. "

"But is it of real service to God that one rolls in a bed of thorns, orwalks barefoot over sharp stones, or kneels all night on a hard, coldfloor? There are so many beautiful things in the world, and God has madethem----"

"As a snare, the priest will tell you. Mam'selle, thou hast not beenmade for a devotee. It would be a great loss to one man if thou shouldstbury all these charms in a convent. "

"I do not know any man who would grieve, " she made answer indifferently. 

"But you might, " and a peculiar smile settled about his lips. 

"I am going to take home as many of these plums as I can carry. MadameDestournier is not well, and has a great longing for different things. Ifound some splendid berries yesterday which she ate with a relish. Sickness gives one many desires. I am glad I am always well. At least Iwas never ill but once, and that was long ago. "

She sprang up and began to look about her. "If I could find some largeleaves----"

"I will fill my pockets. "

She looked helplessly at her own garments, and then colored vividly, thinking if this young man were not here she would gather a lapful. Whyshould she have this strange consciousness?

Nothing of service met her gaze, and she drew her brow into a littlefrown. It gave her a curious piquancy, and interested him. She hadspirit. 

"Oh, I know! What a dullard I was. Those great flaring dockweeds do notgrow about here. But something else will answer. "

She ran over to an old birch tree and tore off great pieces of bark, then gathering some half-dried grasses, began to fashion a sort of pail, bending up the edges to make the bottom. She was so quick and deft, itwas a pleasure to watch her. Then she filled it with the choicest of thefruit. There was still some left. 

"We might have another feast, " he suggested. 

"I have feasted sufficiently. Let us make another basket. It can besmaller than this. "

It was very pleasant to dally there in the woods. He was unnecessarilyawkward, that the slim fingers might touch his, and her little laugh wascharming. 

"Allow me to carry the larger one, " and he reached for it. 

"No, no. You are weighted in the pockets. And these are choice. I willhave no one take part in them. "

She drew herself aside and began to march with a graceful, vigorousstep, her head proudly poised on the arching neck that, bared to summersuns and wind, yet was always white. The delicious little hollow, wherethe collar bones met, was formed to lay kisses in, and be filled withwarm, throbbing lips. Yes, he was right in coming back to Quebec, shewas more enchanting than the glimpse of her had been. 

"Why do you look at me so?" she cried, with a kind of quick repulsionshe did not understand, but it angered her. 

"It is the homage we pay to beauty, Mam'selle. "

"Your sister is beautiful, " she said, with an abruptness that was almostanger. 

"So thought the Sieur de Champlain, and I believe she was not offendedat it. "

"I am not like that, " she declared decisively. "She was fair as a lily, and Father Jamay said she had the face of a saint. "

"I am not so partial to saints myself. And my brother-in-law would havebeen better satisfied, I do believe, if she had been less saintly. "

She looked a trifle puzzled. 

"It is long since you left France, " she commented irrelevantly. 

"I was not seventeen. It is six years ago. "

"Do you mean to go back?"

"Sometime, Mam'selle. Would you like to go?"

"No, " she said decidedly. 

"But why not?" amused. 

"Because I like Quebec. "

"It is a wretched wilderness of a place. "

"Madame Destournier talks about France. Why, if Paris is all gayety andpleasure, are people put in dungeons, and then to death? And there seemso many rulers. They are not always good to the Sieur, either. "

"They do not understand. But these are too weighty matters for a younghead. "

"Why do they not want a great, beautiful town here! All they care aboutis the furs, and the rough men and Indians spoil the summer. I like tohear the Sieur tell what might be, houses and castles, and streets, instead of these crooked, winding paths, and--there are fine shops, where you buy beautiful things, " glancing vaguely at him. 

"Why should you not like to go thither then, if you can dream of thesedelights?"

"I want the Sieur to have his way, and do some of the things he has sethis heart upon. Miladi would like it too. But I am well enoughsatisfied. "

She tossed her head in her superb strength. He had not known many women, and they were older. There was something in her fresh sweetness thattouched him to the soul. 

"This way, M'sieu. " He was plunging ahead, keeping pace with sometumultuous thoughts. 

"Ah----!"

"And see--you have been careless. You are sowing plums along the way. This is no place for them to take root. "

She gave a little laugh as well, though she had begun in a sharp tone. 

He had pressed the side of his slight receptacle and made a yawningcrack in it. 

"Well, now you must gather that great leaf and patch it. Here are somepine needles. I sew with them sometimes. You do not need a thread. "

Was she laughing at him?

He managed to repair the damages, and picked up the plums he had nottrodden upon, that were yielding their wine-like fragrance to the air. 

"Which way do you go, M'sieu?" she asked, with unconscious hauteur. 

"Why--to M. Destournier's. I called on miladi, and she sent me to findyou in some wood, she hardly knew where. And I have brought you safelyback. "

"M'sieu, I have come back many a time in safety without you. "

Her voice had a suggestion of dismissal in it. 

"I must present my spoils to Madame. No, I believe they are yours, youwere the discoverer, you made the purple shower that I only helpedgather. "

She skipped up the steps lightly. How dainty her moccasined feet were!The short skirt showed the small ankles and the swell of the beautifulleg. Her figure was not a whit behind his sister's convent-trained one, but she was fearless as a deer. 

Miladi sat out on the gallery in her chair, that could be moved aboutwith ease by a small lever at the side. Looking down at the youthfulfigures, the thought beset her that haunts all women, that here wasmaterial for a very fortunate match. He was much superior to PierreGaudrion. 

"The trophies of the hunt, " Boullé exclaimed gayly. "The huntress andthe most delicious harvest. I have seen nothing like it. "

"I found some plums, a tree quite by itself, and only two branches offruit. We must send some of the best pits to M. Hébert. And I shallplant a row in the Sieur's garden. "

She brought out a dish and took them carefully from the birch-barkreceptacle. The exquisite bloom had not been disturbed. 

"I will get a dish for yours, " she said to the young man. 

"Mine were the gleanings, " he laughed. 

Miladi's eyes glowed at the sight of the feast. Rose had not emptied allof hers out, and now she laid three beauties in the corner of thecupboard, looking around until she espied a pan. Wooden platters weremostly used, even the Indian women were handy in fashioning them. 

The young man had taken a seat and a plum, and was regaling his hostesswith the adventure. 

"Curious that I should find the place so easily, " and he smiled mostbeguilingly. "Sometimes one seems led in just the right way. "

For several reasons he preferred not to say he had heard the singing. 

"Yes, " and now she gave a soft, answering smile, as if there might be amysterious understanding between them. Miladi was often ennuied, nowthat she was never really well, and the sight and voice of a young mancheered her inexplicably. 

"Every one knows her. She is the most fearless thing. "

"I remember her when she was very little. How tall she has grown. A verypretty girl. "

"Youth always has a prettiness. It is the roundness and coloring. Ioften long to go back and have it all over again. I should remain inFrance. I do not see what there is in this bleak country to charm one. "

"There was some talk of your going with my sister, was there not?"

"Yes. But I was too ill. And M. Destournier thought he could not leave. He has many interests here. "

Rose re-entered the room. 

"I never tasted such delicious plums, " the elder commented, in a pleasedtone. "I want some saved as long as they will keep. "

"There is a quantity of them. I should have had to make another journeybut for M. Boullé, " and she dropped a charming little courtesy. 

"We might see if we could not find another tree. "

"I doubt it. "

"Will you stay some time?" asked miladi. 

"They can do without me a while. Business is mostly over. "

She raised her eyes, and they said she was pleased with the plan. Rosebusied herself about the room, then suddenly disappeared. She had seenM. Destournier coming up the crooked pathway, and with a parcel in herhand, went out to meet him. 

"I thought of you. Miladi was delighted with hers. Some seagull musthave brought the pit across the ocean. It is so much finer than any wehave around here. "

He broke it open, but the golden purple juice ran over his hand. 

"It is the wine of sunshine. Here is to thy health, Rose of Quebec. "

"M. Boullé is in there, " nodding. "He came out in the wood and found meup the tree, " and she laughed gayly. 

"Found thee----" Something sharp went to the heart of the man, and helooked down into the fearless eyes, with their gay, unsuspectinginnocence. 

"As if I could be lost in dear old Quebec!"

"Is it dear to thee?"

"Why, I have never known any other place, any other home. "

There were many knowledges beside that of childhood. And among them onemight be all-engrossing. 

CHAPTER XII

A LOVER IN EARNEST

Eustache Boullé seemed in no hurry to return to Tadoussac. He waswonderfully interested in the new fort, in the different improvements, in miladi, who, somehow, seemed to improve and render herself veryagreeable. She had a queer feeling about him. If one could be youngagain--ah, that would be back in France. She had a happy time withLaurent. She had exulted in winning her second husband, but somehow thereal flavor and zest of love had not been there. 

When Eustache was with Rose she experienced a keen, hungering jealousy, and it was then she wanted to be young. The girl was strangely obtuse. She never colored when he came, or evinced any half-bashful joy, sheleft him with miladi, and went off with the utmost unconcern. She wasmuch in the settlement, showing the Indian women nice ways of keepingtheir homes and children tidy, so that when the beautiful wife of theGovernor returned they would have great improvement to show her. True, they went out canoeing, and the sweet breath of the river washing thesedgy grass on the small islands, gave a faint tang of salt, or where itdashed and fretted against the rocks made iridescent spray. There wereso many beautiful places. And though she had seen the falls more thanonce, she went again to please him, after making several excuses. Paniwas her bodyguard. He was still small, and lithe as an eel, and themixture of races showed in him. Wanamee was sometimes peremptorilyordered to accompany him. 

The wooing of looks and smiles had little effect on her. Sometimes hereached for her hand, but it cunningly evaded him. She seemed sosufficient for herself that the matter was reduced to good-comrade-ship. Yet there were times when he was wild to kiss the rosy, dimpling mouth, to press the soft cheek, to hold the pliant figure in his arms. 

It was but right that he should ask M. Destournier for hisfoster-daughter. 

To lose her! Ah, how could he give her up?

"Would you come to Quebec?"

"My interests are at Tadoussac. And there are the fisheries at theislands growing more profitable. But I might come often if she grewhomesick, and pined for this rough, rocky place. "

"It will be as she pleases, " the man said, with a heavy heart. 

"I must tell you that I think Madame favors my suit. "

M. Destournier merely bowed. 

The husband and wife had never touched upon the subject. She could notdecide. The girl was very useful to her since she had fallen intoinvalid ways. M. Destournier had to be journeying about a good deal. Shecould read so delightfully when the nights were long, tiresome, andsleepless. Even Wanamee could not arrange her hair with such defttouches, and it really appeared as if she could take off the burthen ofyears by some delicate manipulations. Yes, she would miss her very much. But it would be a grand match for a foundling. And if they went toFrance, she would rouse herself and go. M. Destournier was so occupiedwith the matters of the town that he had grown indifferent, and seldomplayed the lover. 

But how was Eustache to propose to a girl who could not, or would notunderstand, who never allowed any endearments or softened to sentiment. Why, here had been a whole fortnight since he had won the Sieur's tardyconsent. Now and then he had found some soft-eyed Indian girl not averseto modestly-caressing ways, but his religion kept him from any absolutewrong, and meaning to marry some time, he had not played at love. 

So he came to miladi with his anxieties. Was there ever a woman's soulformed with no longing, no understanding of the divine passion, thatcould kneel at the marriage altar in singleness of heart?

Miladi studied the young man. Had the girl no warm blood coursingthrough her veins, no throb of pleased vanity, at the preference of thispatient lover? Perhaps he was too patient. 

"Yes, " she made answer, "I will see. You are quite sure your family willnot be displeased? We know nothing of her birth, you are aware. "

"Her beauty will make amends for that. "

One could not deny her beauty. Such a dower had never been miladi's, though she had been pretty in youth. 

"Beg her to listen to me. "

"A man should be able to compel a woman to listen, " she made answer alittle sharply. 

Glancing out over the space between, she caught sight of Rose and herhusband coming down from the fort. She was gay enough now, talking withno restraint. 

"I am almost jealous of M. Destournier, " Eustache said, with a sigh. 

Miladi was suddenly jealous as well, and this swept away the last shredof reluctance. 

"You give her great honor by this marriage proposal. She shall becompelled to consider it. "

"A thousand thanks. If Madame will excuse, I will go out to them. "

M. Destournier left her with the young lover. Would she not go out onthe river? No. Then let them take a forest ramble. There were some finegrapes back of the settlement. Pani had brought in a great basket full. What would she do?

"Sit here on this ledge and watch the river. Pierre Cadotte is at thefort. They came through the rapids at Lachine. It was very exciting. Hehas been at the trading post up to the strait and tells marvellousstories of hardships and heroism. And the good priest up there has madeconverts already. "

She was always so interested in some far-off thing. 

"I wish a priest might make a convert here. There is much need. "

She was off her guard. Canoes and boats were going up and down theriver. Some men were hauling in a catch of fish; just below, an Indianwoman sat weaving reed baskets, while a group of children played around. Not an ideal spot for love-making, but Eustache was desperate. 

"Thee"--leaning over until his black curls touched hers. "I would havethee converted to love and matrimony. I have been a coward, and kept myheartaches and desires to myself. I can do it no longer. "

"But I am not for matrimony. " She raised her clear eyes that would havedisheartened almost any man. "I do not want any husband. I like my ownfancies, and I suppose they are strange. There is only one person I evertalk to about them. No one else understands. I think sometimes I do notbelong here, but to another country; no, the country is well enough. Iam suited to that. I do not want to go away. "

"You would like old France, Paris. My mother would be glad to welcomeyou, I know. And, oh, you would like Paris. Or, if you would rather stayhere----"

"I do not want to be married in a long time yet. Women change so muchwhen they have husbands, and it seems as if they made themselves unhappyover many things their husbands do. "

"But my sister was very happy. She would not have come all the way toNew France if she had not loved her husband dearly. "

"You see that is so different. I do not love any one in that manner. And, oh, M'sieu, she was like an angel, and prayed so much. It is a goodthing, but I would not like to stay in a darkened room and pray. I likebetter to be roaming in the woods, and singing with the birds, andgathering flowers. I believe I am not old enough to accept thesethings. "

"But my sister was only twelve when she was betrothed to the Sieur deChamplain. "

"You see something makes the difference. " Her brow knit in perplexity. "If it is a thing you want, it would be very easy to reach out your handand take it----"

"But I want it!" He reached out his hand and caught hers. "I love you, strange, bewitching as you are in your innocence. And I would teach youwhat love was. No young girl loves much before marriage. But when she iswith her husband day by day and his devotion is laid at her feet, shecannot help understanding what a delight it is, and she learns to giveof her sweetest and best, as you will, my adorable child. "

The heat of his hand and the pulse throbbing in every finger roused adeeper feeling of resistance. She tried to withdraw it, but the pressureonly tightened. 

"Will you release my hand?" she said, with a new-born dignity. "It ismine, not yours!"

"But I wish it for mine. Oh, Rose, you sweet, delightful creature, you_must_ learn to love me. I cannot give you up. And the Destourniers arequite willing. I have asked for you. "

"No one can give me away. I belong only to myself. "

She drew her hand away in an unguarded moment. She sprang up straightand lithe, her head poised superbly. Every pulse within him wasmysteriously stirred, and his breath came in gasps. Yes, he must set herin his life. It would be bleak and barren without. To kiss the rosy lipswhen he listed, to pillow the fair head on his shoulder, to encircle thesupple figure, so full of vitality, in his arms--yes, that would be thehighest delight. 

"I will wait, " he said, in a beseeching voice. "You are but a child. Pity has not sprung up in your heart yet. I will wait and watch for thefirst sign. "

"Go!" She made a dismissing gesture with her hand. "Do not attempt tofollow me. "

He stood still, looking after her. His whole soul was aflame, his voicecould have cried to the heavens above that she might be enkindled withthe sacred flame that leaped and flashed within him. 

Rose picked her way deftly, daintily over the rocky way. She did notstop at the house, but went on to the beach. A fish-hawk was chasing arobin, that suddenly veered round as if asking her protection, andpicking up a sharp stone, she took aim at the hawk and stunned him foran instant, so that he lost his balance. 

"Bravo, little Rose, " said a hearty voice, and the canoe turned in thebend. "If your stone had been larger it might have done more execution. "

"But I saved the bird. " The robin had perched himself on the limb of adead fir tree, and began a gay song. 

"You had better go farther away from your enemy, " she counselled. Thento the canoeist--"Will you let me come in and go down the river?"

"Yes, I will take you down. What did you do with young Boullé?"

She colored a little. "I want to tell you. "

"I saw you both up on the cliff. "

"I came away and left him. "

He drew up the canoe and she stepped in lightly, seating herself sogently that the canoe did not even swerve. 

"How blue the water is! And so clear. It is like the heaven above. Andthere are rays of sun in the river bed. It does not seem very deep, doesit? I could almost touch it with my hand. "

Destournier laughed. "Suppose you try?"

"And tip us over?" She smiled as well. 

It was so lovely that both were moved to silence. Now and then theyglanced at each other, at some special point or happening. She was noteffusive. 

After a while she began with--"Do you like M. Boullé very much?"

"He is a promising young man, I am glad he did not return to France. Wehave few enough of them here. Every one counts. "

"He will go some time, " she said, reflectively. 

A sudden thought flashed through his mind. The girl's face was verycalm, but her eyes had a sort of protest in them. 

"Will he take you?" Destournier asked, in a husky tone. 

"Oh, M'sieu Ralph, would you send me? Would you give me to any oneelse?"

Now her eyes were alight with an eager breathless expression that wasalmost anguish. 

"Not if you did not want to go. "

"I do not want to go anywhere. Oh, M'sieu Ralph, " and now her tone waspiteous, "I wish you would send him away. I liked him very well atfirst, but now he wants me to love him, and I cannot, the kind of lovethat impels one to marry, and I do not want to be married. "

"Has he tried to persuade you?"

Ralph Destournier knew he would make a good husband. Some time Rosewould marry. But it was plain she did not love him. And though lovemight not be necessary, it was a very sweet accompaniment that, he knewnow, it was sad to miss. 

"He talked to me about marriage. I do not like it. " She gave a littleshiver, and the color went out of her face, even her lips, and herpliant figure seemed to shrink as from a blow. 

"My child, no one shall marry you against your will, neither shall yoube taken away. Rest content in my promise. "

She nodded, then smiled, with trusting eyes. He wondered a little abouther future. While he lived--well, the Sieur de Champlain was well andhearty, and much older. She was only a child yet, though she hadsuddenly grown tall. He could care for her in the years to come, and shewould no doubt find a mate. He knew very little about girls. Theygenerally went to convents and were educated and husbands were chosenfor them by their parents. But in this new world matters had changed. There was talk of a convent to train the Indian girls, and thehalf-breeds who took more readily to civilization. The priests were inearnest about it, but money was lacking. Rose had picked up much usefulknowledge, and knew some things unusual for a girl. Good Father Jamaywould be shocked at Terence, Aristophanes, and Virgil for a girl. 

"So you do not like marriage?" he said, rather jestingly. 

She shook her head. 

"But then you know nothing about it. "

"Why, there is the Sieur and the beautiful Madame. And you and miladi. And Marie, with her dirty house and her babies. She is not as nice asthe Indian women. And they have to wait upon the braves or else, whenthe braves are off fur hunting, they have to plant the crops and catchfish, and even hunt and mend tents, and do such hard work. All that isno delight like dreaming on the moss in the woods, and talking to thebirds, and breathing the fragrance all about, and having rushes ofdelight sweep over you like a waft from the beautiful heaven above. Oh, why should I marry; to think of some one else that I do not want and notfeel that my life was my very own. "

He studied the youthful unconscious face before him, the clear, fineskin, a few shades deeper from the daily contact with sun and muchdallying on the river; the beautiful dark eyes that seemed alwaysgathering the choicest of life, with joy and wonder; the rounded cheeks, with exquisitely-faint coloring, seeming to join the clear-cut chin, with its dimpled cleft melting into the shapely throat, that upheld itlike a flower on a strong, yet delicate stem. He was strangely moved bythe peculiar aloofness of the beauty. 

Her soft hair hung about her like a cloud, the curling ends moved nowand then as if by their own vigorous life. Indeed, there was an intensesort of vitality about her that, quiescent as it often was, in thistrifling, daily round, could shoot up into a bewildering flame. Perhapsthat was love. She did not have it for Eustache Boullé, she might neverhave it for him. Were men and women but half alive? Was there somesudden revivifying influence that raised them above the daily wants, that gave them an insight into a new existence? Had he ever experiencedit?

The sun dropped down behind a range of hills, covered with pines, furs, and cedars, that were growing into a compact dark wall, the intersticesbeing black. The edge of the river took on these sombre hues, but alittle beyond there were long strips of rose and tawny gold, betweenzones of purple and green. The current tossed them hither and thither, like some weird thing winding about. Destournier was strangely moved bythis mysterious kinship to nature that he had never experienced before. 

"We must turn back, " he began briefly, though it seemed to him he couldgladly go on to a new life in some other land. 

She nodded. The tide was growing a little stronger, but it was in theirfavor. They kept quite near the shore, where it was dark in spaces, andthen opened into a sort of clearing, only to close again. Even now thevoyager dreams on the enchanting shores that are not all given up totowns and business. 

She began to sing. It was melody without words. Now and then sherecalled a French verse or two, then it settled into some melancholyIndian plaint, or the evening song of a belated bird. She was notsinging for him, yet he was enchanted. 

He drew in the canoe presently. She sprang out with the agile gracecaught from much solitary rambling and climbing. Then she waited for himto fasten it. 

"You are quite sure that you will not consent to M. Boullé's wishes?"she inquired, as they turned in and out of the winding path. 

"You shall be left entirely free. You shall not marry at all, if youprefer, " he answered solemnly. 

"Oh, a thousand thanks. And you will convince miladi. I think she wishesM. Boullé all success. I must go make my peace with Wanamee and get somesupper. "

She ran to the end of the house, the wide kitchen, where the cooking wasdone. Wanamee and Mawha were in a discussion, as often happened. Panisat with a great wooden platter on his knees, eating voraciously. Roserealized suddenly that she was hungry, and the smell of the broilingfish was appetizing. 

"I'm famished, Wanamee, " she cried. "Will you give me some supper?"

"Miladi is much vexed with you, little one. She had supper sent to herroom and M. Boullé was there. They wanted you and M. Destournier. Therewas to be a--I do not know what you call it, but he wanted you topromise to be his wife, for he goes to Tadoussac to-morrow. "

Rose's heart beat with a guilty joy. 

"I should not promise that. I do not want to be a wife. "

Mawha, who had been a wife several times, a tall, rather severe-lookingIndian woman, turned upon her. 

"Thou art well-grown and shouldst have a husband. Girls get too wild ifthey are let go too long. A husband keeps them in order. "

"I will have some supper, " Rose said, with dignity, ignoring thestricture. 

Then she cleared a place on the table and brushed it clean with thebirch twigs. Wanamee brought a plate of Indian meal cake, deliciouslybrowned, some potatoes baked in the hot ashes, and a great slice offish, with a dish of spiced preserves of some green fruit and berries. 

"I looked for you, " Pani said. "Were you up on the mountain?"

Rose shook her head. 

She was hungry, but she dallied over her meal, wondering if she had bestgo in and say good-night to miladi. She did not always; she quiteunderstood now that there were times when miladi did not care to seeher; then, at others, she sent for her. Now she would let her send. Shewent up to her small chamber presently. The young moon was travellingover westward with her attendant star. There were boats still out on theriver, merry voices, others in loud and angry dispute. Why did peoplewant to quarrel, when the world was so beautiful! Then a shrill cry ofsome night bird, guards coming and going about the fort. She grew drowsypresently, and went to bed, serene in the belief that M. Boullé would gohis way and torment her no more, for had not M. Ralph promised?

M. Ralph and miladi were having a rather stormy time. She had inquiredvery peremptorily what had kept him so late. Pani had been sent to thewarehouse and had not found him, neither had he been at the fort. 

M. Destournier was no hand to prevaricate. He lived an open, honestlife, and had few secrets beside those of business. Ordinarily, he wouldhave explained what he had been about the last two hours, but he had asudden premonition that it was wiser not to do so. Miladi was sometimescaptious where Rose was concerned. 

"I was busy, " he made answer briefly. 

"M. Boullé goes to Tadoussac to-morrow. The vessel came down for himto-day. Some urgent business requires his attention. "

"He has loitered quite long enough, " commented her husband. "He is apleasant young fellow, but there is more than indolent pleasuring to ayoung man's life. "

"He has had a purpose, a matter that lies near his heart. This newcountry and the lack of fixed rules are demoralizing, and it will be agood thing when there is a convent for the proper training of girls. Butlawless as Rose has grown, he has asked her in marriage. We wanted youto ratify the consent I have given. He will make arrangements for themarriage a few months hence. "

"You seem to think Rose has no voice in this. "

"Why should she have? Do we not stand in the place of parents? My fatherchose M. Giffard, and he was presented to me as my future husband. Nowell-bred girl makes any demur. But it seems that Mam'selle Rose hassome queer ideas, imbibed from heaven only knows where, that she mustexperience a kind of overwhelming preference for a man, which would bepositively disgraceful in a young girl who has no right to consider loveuntil she is called upon to give it to her husband. It will be a mostexcellent thing for her. "

There was a moment or two of silence. He was considering how best tomake his protest. 

"Well--why do you not reply?" tartly. "The young man is very ardent. Shecan never do better. "

"She is but a child. There need be no haste. And if she does notcare----"

"She is no longer a child. Fully fourteen, I think, and Mam'selle Boulléwas married younger that that. "

"And whether the Sieur would quite approve. There are some formalitiesin old France which we have not shaken off. His parents are stillalive----"

"And he is quite certain he can have the mystery about her fathomed. Sheshould go down on her knees to a man who would prove her honorably born, even if he had no fortune. To-morrow morning he wants the mattersettled, and a betrothal, before he goes. If you know where she is, youhad better summon her and instruct her as to her duty. She is quite oldenough to understand. She has played the child too long already, and ithas spoiled her. "

"I will not have her betrothed against her will. She has no fancy formarriage. And there will be time enough. If M. Boullé chooses to waituntil the Sieur returns, and he consents----"

"She has always been a favorite of his, " interrupted miladi. Thensuddenly--"Why are you so obstinate about it, when it will be such anexcellent thing for her?"

"I am not obstinate about it, only as far as she is concerned. If shedesired it she should have my full and free consent. But I will notinsist upon a step she does not desire. "

"As if a girl knew what was best!" reiterated miladi scornfully. "Andwhy should you wish to keep her? Unless"--and now miladi's eyes flashedfire--"unless----"

"Do not say it!" He held up his hand forbiddingly. 

"I will say it! You are not her father, and it seems strange you shouldhave such an overwhelming fondness for her as to keep her from a mostexcellent marriage, and persuade yourself that a woman grown can indulgein all kinds of childish behavior, without detriment to her character. If it is your fondness for her that stands in the way----"

Miladi at that moment was in a jealous fury. The passion leaped to herheart full-grown. She understood now why she half-feared, half-dislikedthe child that she had once esteemed a pet and plaything. She hadsupplanted her in her husband's affections. She had youth and beauty, and miladi was fading, beside being years older than her husband, andthen never very well any more. 

"Hush!" exclaimed her husband, in a commanding tone. "I forbid you tothink of such a thing! When have I failed in my devotion to you?To-morrow she shall have her choice, but she shall not be forced intoany promise beside her own wishes. And then I will find a new home forher. "

He turned and went out of the room. Miladi pounded on the table beforeher with her small fist, as if she could beat the life out ofsomething. 

CHAPTER XIII

FROM A GIRL'S HEART

Rose stood looking over the wide expanse of the river to the oppositeshore, wondering a little. Down there, miles and miles below, were theEnglish settlements. The men, as traders, came to Quebec now and then. Were the English women like the French? Were there young girls amongthem? She was beginning to experience a peculiar loneliness, a want ofcompanionship, that no one about her could satisfy. 

"Madame Destournier wishes to see you, " exclaimed Pani, who had beensent on the errand. 

She went slowly to miladi's room, and entering it wished hergood-morning, with a dainty courtesy. 

"You will be needed for a matter in hand, " began miladi, "about which Idesire to say a few words before the gentlemen come. It would have beensettled yesterday, but you were not to be found. Where were you?"

Miladi asked it carelessly, so intent on the matter in hand that she didnot remark the color that flew up to the fair brow. 

"Out on the river, " she answered briefly. 

"It is not proper for you to go alone. I have told you of this before. You are a young woman, and with so many men roaming about, it is toobold and unsafe, as well. "

"I am never in any danger. "

"You do not know. But then it is not proper. "

Rose made no reply to that. For some time miladi had not seemed to carewhere she went. And she often did have Pani with her. 

There was a rather awkward silence. Rose was meditating an escape. Thenmiladi began, in so severe a tone that every nerve within her quivered. 

"Yes, you were needed yesterday afternoon. M. Boullé came in and laidbefore me a grave matter. You two seem to have wandered about in amanner that would have scandalized a more civilized place, but thereappear to be no restrictions in this wilderness of savages. I have notbeen able to watch over you as I should, and Wanamee does notunderstand. Out of all this freedom, so unusual to a French maid, hascome a proposal of marriage, and this morning you are to be betrothed. "

"I? But I have not consented, Madame. I told M. Boullé yesterday that Icould not marry him, that I did not want to marry any one. "

"You will consider. Remember you are a foundling, with no name ofancestry, no parents, that a man might refer to with pride when childrengrow up about the family altar. It is not a thing to be quite satisfiedwith, Mademoiselle, or proud of, " and there was a sting in her tone. "This man loves you so well that he is willing to overlook it and offeryou honorable marriage, which but few men would do. We have accepted himfor you. He returns to Tadoussac to-day, but the marriage day will besettled and though you cannot have what I would wish, we will do ourbest. "

The girl's face had changed from scarlet to deathly whiteness. Somethinginside of her seemed to spring into a flame of knowledge, of womanhood, and burn up grandly. That subtle chemistry that works in the girl'ssoul, and transforms it, sometimes slowly, was in her case like thesudden bursting of a bud into flowering. She was her own. She had saidthis before; in a way, she had always felt it; but now it was gravenwith a point of steel. 

"Madame, " she began, in a tone she vainly strove to render steady, "onlyyesterday I told M. Boullé I could not take the love he proffered me, and make any return. And then I felt on a certain equality. I understandbetter now. I am nameless, a rose of the wilderness, a foundling, as yousaid. So I will marry no man who may be ashamed of me before hischildren. Thank M. Boullé for the honor, and tell him----"

The door opened, Destournier recalled one of the few plays he had seenin Paris, with a tragedienne who had won a king's heart, and it seemedalmost as if this girl might step into fame, so proud and full of powerwas she, standing there. Miladi had not been willing to wait for aconference. But the result would have been the same. 

Both men looked at her in surprise, and were speechless for a moment. Then M. Destournier, recovering, reached out and took the girl's slim, nerveless hand. 

"Rose, " he said, "M. Boullé has done us all the honor to ask your handin marriage. If you can accept him you will have our heartiest wishesfor your happiness; if you feel that you cannot, if no affection drawsyou to him, then do not give him a cold, loveless heart in return. Makeyour own choice; there is no one to compel you, no one to insist. "

"I thank you, M. Boullé, for the honor. " She held her head up verystraight; it seemed as if she had grown since yesterday. Her eyes werefearless in their high light, the delicious curves of her lips seemedset as if they had been carved, instead of rosy flesh. "It is more thanthe usual honor, I believe. I am a nameless foundling, and have beenhanded about from one to another, and they were not the kind in whom onecould take pride. Therefore, I shall not bestow myself on any man, andno one has any right to take advantage of his generosity. If I lovedyou, I should do the same thing. How much more resolute I should be whenI do not love you, and would wed you simply for the sake of shelteringmyself under your name. I am sorry any one has considered this possible, since it is not. "

Boullé took a step forward and grasped her hand, as he poured out atorrent of ardent love. Miladi looked on, amazed. Was the girl made ofstone, or was her heart elsewhere? She made no appeal to M. Destournier, indeed her face was turned a trifle from him. 

"You pain me, " she said wearily, yet with a tender pity. "I can say nomore. "

"But I will wait, " he pleaded. 

"My answer would always be the same. "

"Rose!" miladi exclaimed. 

"Madame Destournier, I thank you also for your kindness to a foundling, and you, also, " turning to M. Destournier, "for home and shelter, andmany other things. I feel now that since I have disappointed you Icannot avail myself of your generosity any longer. I can find anotherhome----"

She turned swiftly as a ray of light, and disappeared. 

"Have you no control over her?" cried Madame angrily, "that she defiesyou to your face. It shows the blood that runs in her veins, wayward, ungrateful thing that no honor can raise, no generosity touch. She hasthe heart of a stone. M. Boullé, you have made a fortunate escape. "

"But I love her, Madame. And I thought her noble in her refusal, but Iwould have taken her to my heart, no matter what she was. And I do notquite despair. I may find some link that will rehabilitate her. She musthave come from a fine race. There is no peasant blood there. "

"Perhaps honorable peasant blood may be cleaner than a king's bastard, "returned miladi scornfully. 

"You have my most fervent sympathy, " and M. Destournier wrung thelover's hand. "But it would be ill work marrying a woman who did notcare for you. Perhaps another year"--should he give him hope? It wassuch an honest, earnest face, and he would have been brave to set atnaught family tradition. 

They went down the winding stair together. Rose was nowhere to be seen. 

"Oh, you will watch over her?" M. Boullé cried, with a lover'sdesperation. 

"Do not fear. She has been like a child to me. No harm shall come toher. "

Miladi in her transport of rage tore the handkerchief she held in herhand to shreds, and stamped her foot on the floor. 

"She shall never come in this house again, the deceitful, ungratefulwretch. And he shall not care for her, or befriend her in any way. Shemust love him, and it is no child's love, either. Why, I have been blindand silly all this last year. "

Rose had flown out of the house, across the gardens and the settlementto the woods, where she had spent so many delightful hours. She threwherself down on the moss and the fragrant pine needles, and gave way toa fit of weeping that seemed to rend both soul and body. Was she anoutcast? Oh, it could not be that M. Destournier would forsake her. Butshe could ask nothing from him, and miladi would never see her again. Why could she not have loved M. Boullé? Did it take so much love to be aman's wife? to be held in his arms and kissed, to live with him day byday--and she shuddered at the thought. 

But she was young, and the flood of tears subsided. She sat up, leaningagainst a stout pine. Then she rose and peered about. Was it true thatM. Boullé was to go away? What if he came and found her again?

She crawled out cautiously, and looked up at the sun. It had passed themeridian. She was hungry, so she searched about and found some berries, but she longed for something more substantial. For the first timesolitude seemed to pall upon her. She felt as if everything had beenswept away. 

Toward night she crept down to the settlement. Several of the Indianwomen would take her in, she knew. There was Noko sitting just outsideher tent; she would not accept a cabin of logs or stone. She was makinga cape of gulls' feathers, that she might sell to some of the traders, who often took curious Indian finery home with their furs. Her threesons were trappers. One had a wife and three children that the poormother provided for, and when her brave came home, she was devoted tohim, grateful for a pleasant word. What curious ideas these aborigineshad of wedded love!

"Noko, will you take me in for the night, and give me some supper?" sheasked, as she threw herself down beside the Indian woman, who, atforty, looked at least sixty, and though she had the face of her tribe, it was marked by a grave sort of pleasantness, and not the severity thatgenerally characterized middle life. 

"Has the Sieur gone to Tadoussac?"

"Not that I know of. But I have offended miladi. And your wigwam isalways so clean, and there are no children. "

The woman shook her head with a sort of remonstrance. 

"You will have them of your own some day. When they are little, you willcare for them. They will be no trouble. When they are older, you will beproud of them, and rejoice in their bravery. Then they go away, andforget. "

She began to put up her work. "Are you in earnest?" she asked. "Do youneed shelter?"

"Oh, the Gaudrions would take me in, but there is such a crowd, I am fora little quiet and solitude to-night. "

"Thou shalt have it. The Sieur has been good to me. But it is hardlywise to quarrel with one's home. "

"There was no quarrel. Miladi wanted me to do something that I couldnot. And you know I have no real claim upon them, Noko, I belong toQuebec, not to any person. "

She gave a little laugh that sounded almost shrill. There was not somuch joy in belonging only to one's self. 

"To Quebec, yes. "

"Now let me kindle the fire. See how handy I can be. And to-morrow I canhelp you with that beautiful cape. I suppose the great ladies in Parisfeel very grand in some of these things. I heard the Governor say that agreat deal of money was paid for a deerskin dress by some one at court. It was worked beautifully, and as soft as velvet. "

Rose busied herself in her eager, graceful fashion. Noko broiled somedeer steak on the coals, and had a stew made of various things, withfish for the foundation. Rose was not very partial to this, but thesteak and the cakes made of rye and corn, and well browned, tasted goodto the hungry girl. There was a tea made of herbs, which had adelightful fragrance. 

Afterward they sat in the doorway, and one and another came to give Nokoa bit of gossip. Rose crept off to bed presently. How fragrant the freshbalsam of fir was, and the tired girl soon fell asleep. 

M. Destournier had been quite engrossed with a few forgotten things thathad to go to Tadoussac. Then the vessel pushed off and he turned to thestorehouse. Presently a load would go to France. Though he wasmechanically busy, his thoughts turned to Rose. She must have anotherhome. He had wondered more than once how it had come to pass that miladihad lost so many of her charms, yet grown so much more exacting. He hadawakened to the fact that he had never been a rapturous lover. He paidEustache Boullé all honor that he had proved so manly and brave, yet inhis secret heart he felt glad that Rose had not loved him. Why, he couldnot tell, except that she was too young. And he wondered how much miladihad loved Laurent Giffard. How much was she capable of loving? And thesweet angel-like Hélène, who had willingly crossed the ocean and exiledherself from the life she loved to these uncongenial surroundings. Theywere that for a woman. 

When business was through with, he made his way down to M. Hébert's. Though the man had been bred an apothecary, and had a wider educationthan many in a higher round, he was making an excellent and enthusiasticfarmer. Madame Hébert had brought some of the old-world knowledge andfrugality with her, and put them in practice, bringing up her daughtersto habits of industry, while the son was equally well trained by thefather. 

M. Hébert was busy with his young fruit trees. Every year he sent forsome hardy kind, and had quite a variety. He was a colonist, which sofew of the emigrants were. 

After a walk about the garden, they went in to see Madame Hébert andThérèse, who was making lace. Then M. Destournier preferred his requestthat they would take Rose for a while. He did not hint at anydisagreement. Madame Destournier's health was precarious, and she hadlittle idea of what was necessary for a girl, having beenconvent-trained herself. Now that Madame de Champlain had gone therewas no real companionship for Rose, who was surely outgrowing herchildish fancies. 

"How would you like it, Thérèse?" asked her mother. 

Thérèse was a solid dark-eyed, dark-haired, rather heavy-looking girl, without the French vivacity and eagerness. Destournier smiled inwardly;he could hardly fancy their being companions; yet in a way, each mightbenefit the other. 

"Why--if you approved. Though I am never lonely, " raising her eyes tothe visitor. 

"Rose is quite given to rambling about. She haunts the woods, she isfond of canoeing, and I think she has quite a mind for study. I am sorrythere are so few opportunities. Our good fathers seem to frown oneverything but prayers. "

"Prayers are good, but there must be work, as well, " said Madame Hébert, who had been brought up a Huguenot, and who thought conventual life agreat waste. 

"I should like the change for her. It may not be for long, but it wouldbe a favor. And you need not feel that you must devote a great deal oftime and energy to her, but give her the shelter of a home, untilmatters change a little, " with a hopeful accent in his voice, and asmile that had the same aspect. 

"Madame Destournier is not well?" in a tone of inquiry. 

"No. She should have gone to France with the Sieur and his wife, but itwas thought she had not the strength to stand the sea voyage. I feelmuch troubled about her. "

Madame Hébert was sympathetic, but she had never admired the wife asmuch as she did the husband. She was too volatile in the early days, andheld her head quite too high. 

It was arranged that Rose should be an inmate of the Hébert home for amonth or two. It was such a comfortable, cheerful-looking place. Therewas a set of bookshelves, and no one beside the Governor owned more thana prayer-book, which did little good, since they could hardly read intheir own language. 

M. Ralph did not go at once to his wife, but stopped in the kitchen. Mawha was brewing some herbs. Wanamee entered with a plate on whichthere was some wheaten toast. 

"She will not take it. She does nothing but fret for Monsieur, and saydreadful things about _ma fille_"--then she stopped in a fright, seeingher master. 

"Where is Rose?" he asked. 

"She has not been here all day. I sent Pani to look for her, but he hasnot returned. "

M. Destournier went to his wife's room. She was hysterical andunreasonable. 

"Promise me that such a miserable, deceitful thing as that girl is shallnever enter this house, " she cried. "I cannot breathe the same air withher. You must choose between us. If you keep to her, I shall know youhave no love for me. I will kill myself. "

"Marguerite, calm yourself. Rose is not to remain here, but go to theHéberts. So you will have quiet and nothing to do but recover yourhealth. And if you can get well enough, we will go to Montreal, as Ihave to transact some business. The change will do you good. "

"You will not take her?"

"No, no. Now let the girl alone. She is provided for, and you have thetwo women at your service. "

"She did nothing for me. And after roaming the woods and canoeing withM. Boullé, she should have been glad to marry him, for decency's sake. "

"We will let her quite alone, " he exclaimed authoritatively. "Why didyou not eat some supper?"

"I couldn't. Oh, Ralph, be kind to me. Do not let that girl steal yourlove from me. I was quite as pretty in youth, but the years are hard onone. And I need your love more than ever. You are not tender andcaressing as Laurent was. "

He bent over and kissed her, smoothed her tangled hair, and patted thehot cheek. 

"I have been busy all day, and have had no supper, " he began, looseningthe hands about his neck. 

She sobbed wildly. She had been so lonely all day. She missed M. Boulléso much. He would have been a son to them. 

He had to tear himself away. He did not take his supper, but rushed outto make inquiries. Where had Rose gone? Was she wandering about thewoods? There had been wolves, stray Indians, and a dozen dangers. Thepalisade gates were fastened. He asked at two or three of the cabins, where he knew she was a favorite. And where was Pani?

Pani was asleep on a soft couch of moss, under a clump of great oaktrees. He had lain down, warm and tired, and his nap was good for ten ortwelve hours. 

"I saw her by Noko's wigwam, " said a woman, as she heard him inquiring. 

Not even waiting to thank her, he rushed thither. Noko had thereputation of being a sort of seer, though she seldom used her gift. Shesat on the stone beside her door, and a woman knelt before her, to whomshe was talking in a low monotonous tone. His step startled thelistener, and she sprang up. 

"Whither did Rose go?" he asked peremptorily, seizing Noko's arm. 

"She is here, Monsieur. She is in bed asleep. There is trouble and thefair-haired woman hates her. You had better not try to make them agree. And she has no love for the dark-haired suitor who is on the river, dreaming of her. She is too young. Let her alone. "

"I wanted to know that she was safe. I will see her in the morning. Keepher until I come. "

"Yes, Monsieur. "

Madame Destournier had wept herself to sleep, and was breathing incomparative tranquillity. Ralph sat down beside the bed. If Rose hadloved Eustache Boullé, the way would have been smooth as a summer sea. Was he sorry, or mysteriously glad? Why should he be glad? he demandedof himself. 

Rose made no demur the next morning when M. Destournier told her of thenew arrangements, only stipulating that she should have her liberty, togo and come as she pleased. 

"Are you very angry because I could not take M. Boullé for a husband?"she inquired timidly. 

"Oh, no, no. It was your life, Mademoiselle, for sorrow or joy. You onlyhad the right to choose. "

The bronze lashes quivered sensitively upon her cheeks, and a soft flushseemed to tangle itself among them. 

"Is it joy, M'sieu?" in a low tone. 

"It ought to be. "

"Then I shall wait until there comes a touch of joy greater than any Ihave yet known. And I have had thrills of delight that have gone allthrough my body, but they faded. The love for a husband should lastone's whole life. "

"Yes, Mademoiselle. Why not?"

All the white tones of her skin flushed to rose, and crept even amongthe tendrils of her hair and over her small ears. Had he ever remarkedhow perfect they were before?

"_Ma fille_, " he responded softly. "And you will be content until bettertimes. "

"So long as I do not have to marry, yes. "

"That is a good _fille_. I shall see you now and then. You will like M. Hébert. He has plenty of books, and it will be a good practice to readup French. "

She nodded. 

He took a second thought. 

"You may as well go now, and I will see that all is fair sailing. Noko, thanks for keeping Rose of Quebec where neither wolves nor marauderscould get at her. "

They walked quietly along, she with her agile step, that gave gracefulturns to her figure. She was hardly a woman, and yet more than a child. But she kept the sweet simplicity of the latter. 

Madame Hébert gave her a pleasant welcome. Thérèse glanced up from herlace work and nodded, hoping in a formal and quite ungirlish manner thatshe would be happy with them. Rose sat down beside her, and looked atthe lace. There were pins stuck in a cushion and Thérèse threw herthread over this one and that one. How queer it looked. 

"But if you should go wrong?" she inquired. 

"Here is the pattern. This is quite simple. I have one very intricate, but handsome, like they make at home, Maman says. And one with beads. Itook the idea from an Indian woman. I have some finished work, too. "

"I have done a little of that. Miladi, that is Madame Destournier, usedto do embroidery. At first she had such a store of pretty things. Butnow they cost so much. Only there are always packs of furs to exchange. "

M. Hébert came in, with a pleasant word for his guest. They wereextremely sorry that Madame was ill, but it gave them the pleasure of avisit from Rose. M. Destournier said she was fond of reading; he hadsome poets, and books on gardening, out of which he made poetry, smilingwith French gayety. 

On the whole, Rose liked the exchange. For a few days it seemed ratherstiff, but there were so many new things, and M. Hébert liked a goodlistener. She walked about the garden with him. There were some rareflowers, of which he was very proud, and several he had found in thewoods. Then there was a bed of herbs, and he distilled remedies, as wellas some delightful perfumes. He soon grew quite fond of the pretty girlwho was so interested in his pursuits, and fond of hearing him readaloud, and though his wife and children listened amiably, their thoughtswere more on their work. Industry was Madame Hébert's cardinal virtue, and her daughter was a girl after her own heart. 

But this fresh young creature to whom a marvellous world was beingopened, who watched with eager eyes, who smiled or was saddened, who wassympathetic or indignant, who flushed or paled with the pain of tragedy, how charming she was!

She often ran up to the old home for a word with Wanamee, who was gladto see her. Miladi was neither better nor worse, some days so irritablethat nothing could please her. 

"She would keep M. Destournier beside her all the time, " said Wanamee, "but a man has business. He is not meant for a nurse, and to yield toevery whim. She is not a happy woman, miladi, and one hardly knows howmuch of her illness is imaginary. If she would only brighten up and goout a little, I think she would be better. "

Rose used her strongest efforts to induce Thérèse to take a ramble withher. She did go to the woods occasionally, but she took her work along, always. 

"Why do you keep so closely to it?" Rose asked one day. 

"Mam'selle, part is for my trousseau. Maman instructed me in the fashionof her old home, where girls begin to fill up a chest, to be ready. "

"Oh, Thérèse, have you a lover?"

"_Non. _" Thérèse shook her head. "But I may have, some day. There willbe people, men sent over to settle New France. The King has promised. "

"Did you see M. Boullé, when he was here?"

"Oh, yes. And a nice young man he is, too. "

"I wish he had wanted to marry you. He is nice and good to look at. Howcould one marry Pierre Gaudrion, with his low brow and fierce eyebrowsthat meet over his nose, and his great hands, that seem made of lead, ifhe lays them on you! Yet he is smart and ingenious. "

"And they say now that he visits Anastase Fromont. She will make a goodwife. "

Rose gave a little shiver. She could recall one time, the last, whenPierre had laid his hand on both her shoulders and drawn her to him, andshe had wrenched herself away, every drop of blood within her rising upin protest. 

"Don't you dare to touch me again, or I will kill you, " she had flungout with blazing eyes. 

Then for weeks he had never so much as looked at her. 

"Yes, " retrospectively. "Why do people take likes the wrong way? Now ifM. Boullé had----"

"It is said he was wild for love of you, " interposed Thérèse. 

"That made the trouble. Miladi liked him so much. Thérèse, there is somekind of love we must have before you can put yourself in a man's hand, and let him take you to his home, where you must remain while lifelasts. A whole long life, think of it! And if you wanted to get free thepriest would forbid it. There would be nothing but to throw yourselfinto the river. "

Thérèse looked with frightened eyes at the impetuous girl. 

"There is God to obey and serve. And if He sends you a good husband--M. Boullé was brother to our dear Sieur's wife. It would have been anexcellent marriage. "

"If it hadst only been thou!" Rose's short-lived passion was over, andshe was smiling. 

"But you see, Mam'selle, they are strong Catholics. I follow my mother'sfaith, and we do not believe telling beads and saying prayers is all ofthe true service to the Lord. So it would never have done. "

Rose was minded to laugh at the grave, satisfied tone, and the placidface. 

"I am not a good Catholic, either. I do not go to confession. I do nottell lies nor steal, and though I get in tempers, it is because peopletry me and insist that I should do what I know it would be wrong for meto do. I did not want any husband, and I said so. "

"But all girls hope to marry some time. I should like to have as good ahusband as my mother has, and be as happy with him. "

"He is delightful, " admitted Rose. "But your mother loved him. "

"He was chosen for her, and there was no good reason why she should notaccept him. Yes, they have been very happy. But in France girls do nothave a voice, and when the husband is chosen, they set themselves aboutmaking every act and thought of theirs agreeable. "

"But if he was--unworthy?"

"Few parents would choose an unworthy lover, I think. They have the goodof their children at heart. "

Eustache Boullé had not been unworthy. He would have married her, nameless. Her heart turned suddenly tender toward him. She was learningthat in the greater world there was a certain pride of birth, an honorin being well-born. She was better satisfied that she had not acceptedEustache. What if the Sieur had been opposed to it and Madame deChamplain frowned upon her?

And then the Sieur returned, but he came alone. The house in the Rue St. Germain l'Auxerrois, with Madame Boullé, was more attractive than theroughness of a half-civilized country. Even then Hélène plead forpermission to become a lay sister in a convent, which would have meant aseparation, but he would not agree to this. Ten years after his deathshe entered the Ursuline Convent, and some years later founded one inthe town of Meaux, endowing it with most of her fortune. And though thenext summer Eustache renewed his suit, he met with a firm refusal, andfound the influence of his brother-in-law was against him. 

Rose had been brave enough to lay the matter before him. 

"Little one, " he said, in the most fatherly tone--"if thou dost not lovea man enough to give him thy whole soul, except what belongs to God, todesire to spend thy life with him, to honor and serve him with the bestthou hast, then do not marry him. It is a bitter thing for a man to gohungry for love, when a woman has promised to hold the cup of joy to hislips. "

Eustache then returned to France, and after a period of study andpreparation, took holy orders, as a Friar. 

CHAPTER XIV

A WAY OVER THORNS

Champlain found on his arrival five Jesuit priests, who had received apoor welcome, even from their French brethren. The Récollets had offeredthem the hospitality of their convent, which had been gratefullyaccepted. So far not much advance had been made among the Indians, whoseemed incapable of discerning the spiritual side of religion, thoughthey eagerly caught up any superstition. 

There had also come over a number of emigrants, two or three families, the others, men of no high degree, who had been tempted by the lure of aspeedy fortune. It was a long, hard, cold winter, and throngs of Indiansapplied for relief. Champlain had established a farm at Beaupré, downthe river, and stocked it with cattle he had imported. But for weekseverything was half-buried in snow. 

One morning M. Destournier came in. Rose was sitting by the fire in M. Hébert's study and shop. The great fireplace was full of blazing logs, and she looked the picture, not only of comfort, but delight. She hadnot seen much of him for the month past. There was no opportunity forsledging even, the roads had been so piled with snow. Then she hadtaken quite a domestic turn, much to the gratification of Madame Hébert. 

M. Destournier looked thin and careworn. Rose sprang up, deeply touched. 

"Oh, you are ill, " she cried. "I have not seen you in so long. Sit herein the warmth. And miladi?"

She always inquired after her. 

"That is what I have come about. Rose, my dear child, can you forgetenough of the past, and the long silence, to come back to us? Miladiwants you, needs you, has sent me to see. She is very ill, and lonely. "

Rose flushed warmly, with both pain and pleasure, and her eyes softened, almost to tears. 

"I shall be glad to come. " There was a tremble of emotion in her voice. "I realize how great a disappointment it was to her, but you know I wasright, and when I asked the Sieur if I had been too hasty, or unjust, heapproved. He thinks no woman ought to marry without giving her wholeheart, and somehow I had none to give, " blushing deeply and lookinglovelier than ever. "I think it is because--because I am a foundling, and could not go to any man with honor. So I must make myself happy inmy own way. "

Her figure had taken on more womanly lines, though it was still slim andexquisitely graceful. And the girlish beauty had ripened somewhat, losing none of its olden charm. 

She colored still more deeply under his glance. 

"Is there anything new with miladi?" she inquired, with some hesitation. 

"It seems a gradual wasting away and weakness. She thinks she will bebetter when spring opens, and longs to return to France. I am putting myaffairs in shape to make this possible. She is very lonely. She hasmissed your brightness and vivacity. It has seemed a different place. "

Rose's heart swelled with pity. She forgave Madame from the depths ofher heart, remembering only the old times and the tenderness. 

"When shall I come?"

"At once. She begged for you last week, but I was afraid it was arestless fancy. The road is quite well broken. What a winter we havehad! The drought last summer shortened crops, and there have been somany extra mouths to feed among the unfortunate Indians. So if you willinform the Héberts--I have seen Monsieur. "

She went through to the kitchen, where mother and daughter wereconcocting savory messes for the sick. They both returned with her andexpressed much sympathy for the invalid. M. Hébert had said to his wifethat miladi was slowly nearing her end, while her real disease seemed amystery, but medical lore in the new world had not made much advance. 

"We shall only lend her to you for a while, " Madame Hébert said, with afaint smile. "I hardly know how Monsieur will do without her. She istruly a rose-bloom in this dreary winter, that seems as if it wouldnever end. "

"And I want her to bloom for a while in the room where my poor sick wifehas to stay. She longs for some freshness and sweetness, " he said, in apleading tone. 

"She was rightly named, " said Madame, with a smile. "Her poor mothermust have died, I am quite sure, for she could not have sent away suchan adorable child. Even when Mère Dubray had her, she was charming, inher wild, eager ways, like a bird. The good God made her a living Rose, indeed, to show how lovely a human Rose could be. "

She came in the room wrapped in her furs, her hood with its border ofsilver-fox framing in her face, that glowed with youth and health. 

"You have all been so good to me, " and her beautiful eyes were alightwith gratitude. "I shall come in often, and oh, I shall think of youevery hour in the day. "

"Do not forget the latest pattern of lace-making, " added the practical, industrious Thérèse. 

It was glorious without, a white world with a sky of such deep blue italmost sparkled. Leafless trees stretched out long black or gray arms, and here and there a white birch stood up grandly, like some fairgoddess astray. Stretches of evergreens suggested life, but beyond themhills of snow rising higher and higher, until they seemed lost in theblue, surmounted by a sparkling frost line. 

The paths had been beaten down--occasionally a tract around a doorwayshovelled. It was hard and smooth as a floor. Destournier slipped herarm within his, and then gazed at her in surprise. 

"You must have grown. How tall you are. I wonder if I shall getaccustomed to the new phase? I seem always to see the little girl whosat upon my knee. Oh, do you remember when you were ill at MèreDubray's?"

"All my life comes to me in pictures. I sometimes think I can rememberwhat was before the long sail in the boat, but it is so vague. Now it isall here, its rough ways, its rocks, its beautiful river are a part ofme. I am never longing to go elsewhere. I am sorry Madame de Champlaindid not love it as well. And the Sieur was such a good, tender husband. "

Destournier sighed a little, also. The Sieur kept busy and full ofplans, but occasionally there came a wistfulness in his eyes and a painin the lines that were settling so rapidly about his face. 

They crunched over the icy paths. A time or two she slipped, and he drewher nearer, the touch of her body, though wrapped in its furs, givinghim a delicious thrill. He lifted her up the steep ways he had seen herclimb with the litheness of a squirrel. 

Wanamee came out with a fervent welcome. The old kitchen was the same. Pani was toasting himself in his favorite corner. Mawha was doing Indianbead and feather work, and looked up with a cordial nod. 

"Get good and warm. I will tell miladi you have come. You will find hermuch changed, but she does not like it remarked upon. "

She and Wanamee were in an earnest talk when she was summoned. The roomhad in it some new appointments, brought from France, but even aluxurious court beauty might have envied the rich fur rugs lying aboutand hanging over the rude and somewhat clumsy chairs of homemanufacture. 

Pillowed up in a half-sitting posture in the bed was miladi. Rose couldhardly forbear a shocked exclamation. When she had seen her every day, the changes had passed unremarked, for they had begun, even then. Thelovely skin was yellowed and wrinkled and defined the cheek bones, thebeautiful hair had grown dull, and the eyes had lost their lustre. Allher youth was gone, she was an old lady, even before the time. 

And this vision of youthful, vigorous beauty was like a sudden sunburst, when the day had been dull and cloudy. She seemed to animate the room, to light up the farthest recesses, to bring a breath of revivifying airand hope. 

"I have wanted you so, " the invalid said piteously. "Oh, how strong andwell you are! I never was very strong, and so the illness has taken adeeper hold on me. And now you must help me to get well. Your freshnesswill be an elixir--that is what I have wanted. Wanamee is good for aservant nurse, but I have needed something finer and better. "

She held out her hand and Rose pressed it to her lips. It was bony, showing swollen blue veins, and had a clammy coldness that struck achill to the rosy lips. 

"Did you like them at the Héberts? They are very staid people, and thinkonly of work, I believe. "

"They were very kind, and I found them well-informed about everything. "

"Why, when they know so much, can they not cure me? You know it is notas though my case was very serious. I am weak, that is all. The doctorcame down from Tadoussac, but he just shook his head, and his powdersdid me no good. M. Hébert sent some extracts of herbs, but nothing givesme any strength. And the snow and cold stays on as if spring would nevercome. What have you been doing all this while? You couldn't run about inthe woods. "

"Oh, Madame, I am outgrowing that wild longing, though the trees have ahundred voices, and I seem to understand what they say, and the song ofthe birds, the ripple and plash of the river. But I have been learningother things. How great the world is, and the stories of kings andqueens, and brave travellers, who go about and discover new places. Itwidens one's subjects of thought. And I have learned some cooking, andhow to make home seem cheerful, and the weaving of pretty laces, likethose the ships bring over. I am not so idle now. "

"And you liked them very much?" She uttered this rather resentfully. 

"Ah, Madame, how could one help, when people were so good, and took somuch pains with one. "

Her voice was sweet and appealing, yet it had a strand of strength andappreciation. But had _she_ not been good to the little girl all theseyears!

"Has Mam'selle Thérèse any lover?" she asked, after a pause. 

"Not yet, Madame. Some old family friends are to come over in thesummer, and one has a son that Thérèse played with in childhood. It maybe that she will like him. "

"And she will do as her parents desire!"

"They are very just with her, and love her dearly. "

"And the brother?"

"He went to Mont Réal before the hard cold. If there were only people tosettle there it would be finer than Quebec, it is said. "

"I am so tired of Quebec. Next summer we will go home; that is thecountry for me. M. Destournier is willing to go at last, and I shall seethat he never returns to this dreary hole. "

"It can hardly be called a hole, when there are so many heights allabout, " laughed the girl. 

"It is a wretched place. And you will soon like France, and wonder howpeople are content to stay here. You see the Governor's wife had enoughof it. She had good sense. "

"But, Madame, the priests teach that a wife's place is beside herhusband. "

"What have I gained by staying beside mine, who is always planning howto civilize those wretched squaws, and make life better for them? Thebetter should have been for me. And now I have lost my health, and mybeautiful hair has fallen out and begins to turn white. Am I very muchchanged?"

Rose was embarrassed. Years ago miladi hated the thoughts of growingold. 

"Illness tries one very much, " she said evasively. "But you will gain itup when you begin to mend. "

"Oh, do you think so? You see I must get something to restore the wastedflesh. How plump you are. And I had such an admirable figure. M. Laurentthought me the most graceful girl he had ever seen, had so many prettycompliments, and that keeps one in heart, spurs one on to new efforts. M. Destournier is not of that kind. He is cold-blooded, and seems moreEnglish than French. "

Rose colored. The dispraise hurt her. 

"Fix my pillows, and put me down. I get so tired. And stir up the fire. "

Rose did this very gently, smoothing out wrinkles, holding the coldhands in hers, so warm and full of strength. The room seemed smotheringto her, but she stirred the fire vigorously, and sent a vivid shower ofsparks upward. 

"Now if you had a little broth----"

"But I cannot bear to have you go away. Yes, I know I shall get strongerwith you here. "

"You need some nourishment. I will not be gone long, " giving a heartsomesmile. 

A gallery ran along this side of the house, built for miladi'sconvenience. She stepped out on it, in the clear air and sunshine, andtook a few turns. Poor Madame! Would she get well when she seemed sonear dying?

The broth was reviving. Rose fed her with a teaspoon, instead of givingher the cup to drink from, and they both laughed like children. Then shearranged the pillows and bathed the poor, wrinkled face and hair withsome fragrant water, and miladi fell asleep under these ministrations. 

Rose moved lightly about the room, changing its aspect with defttouches. She was glad to do something in return. Miladi had been verysweet when she was ill, and there had been the pleasant years when shehad not minded the exactions. Was there really a plan to go to France?Would they take her from her beloved Quebec?

M. Destournier brought in a book from the Governor's store and Rose readaloud in the evening. That was a restless time for miladi, but thesweet, cheerful voice tranquillized her. M. Ralph sat in the corner ofthe wide stone fireplace, watching the changes in the lovely face, asshe seemed to enter into the spirit of the adventures. Heroism appealedto her. The flush came and went in her cheek, her eyes sent out gleamsof glory, and her bosom rose and fell. 

There came an instant of rapture to Ralph Destournier, that mysteriousand almost sublime appreciation of a woman's love, a love such as thisgirl could give. He had possessed the childish affection, the innocentgirlish fondness, but some other would win the woman's heart, the prizehe would lay down his life for. What had been the pity and weaktenderness was given to the woman in the bed yonder. He knew now she hadonly touched his heart in sympathy, and a fancied duty. In a thousandyears she would never be capable of such love as this girl, blossominginto womanhood, could give. 

"There should be some women at hand, " declared a weak voice from thebed. "It adds an interest to the discoveries, to think, if a woman didnot inspire it, she crowned it with her admiration. But for a party ofmen to go off alone----"

"The hardships would be too great for a woman. "

Destournier's voice was husky with repressed emotion. This girl wouldkeep step and inspire an explorer. 

"They would not take so many hardships then. What if there is a greatriver or ocean leading to India! A man can live but one life, and thatshould be devoted to some woman. "

He rose, crossed the room, and kissed his wife on the forehead. Helearned by accident one day that she used something to keep her lips redwith the lost bloom of youth, and they had never been sweet to himsince. 

"Good-night. I hope you will sleep. Rose had better not read any more. We must not have all the good things in one day. "

He ran down the steps to where a street had been straightened andwidened in the summer. The moonlight gave everything a weird glow, thestars were tinted in all colors, as one finds in the clear cold of thenorth. Only the planets and the larger ones, the myriad of small oneswere outshone. What beauty, what strength, what wonders lay hidden inthe wide expanse. He was tempted to plunge into the wilderness, to thefrozen north, to the blooming south, or that impenetrable expanse of thewest, and leave behind the weak woman, who in her selfish way loved him, and the girl who could create a new life for him, that he could lovewith the force of manhood suddenly aroused, that had been clean andwholesome. He was glad of that, though he could not lay it at the girl'sfeet. Miladi had been in this state so long, sometimes rallying, and inthe summer they would go to France. But they would leave Rose of oldQuebec behind. 

Over there at the fort a man sat poring over maps and papers, asolitary man now, who had wedded youth and beauty, and found only DeadSea fruit. But he was going bravely on his way. That was a man's duty. 

In a few days there was a decided improvement in miladi. She wasdressed, and sat up part of the time. She evinced an eager resolve toget well, she put on a sort of childish brightness, that was at timespitiful. But nothing could conceal the ravages of time. She looked olderthan her years. She was, in a curious manner, drawing on the vitality ofthe young girl, and it was generously given. 

Then came to Rose a great sorrow. M. Hébert, who had been such aninspiring influence to her, died from the effects of a fall. There was ageneral mourning in the small settlement. The Governor felt he had lostone of his most trusty friends. The eldest daughter, Guillemette, whohad married one Guillaume Couillard, came down from Tadoussac, and theytook his place on the farm. Hers had been the first wedding in Quebec. 

Rose felt that this must change the home for her. She had counted ongoing back to them. There were days when she grew very tired of miladi'swhims and inanities, and longed to fly to her beloved wood. 

"If I should die, he will marry her, " miladi thought continually. "Iwill not die. I will take her to France and marry her to some one beforeher beauty fades. She will make a sensation. "

Rose never dreamed she was so closely watched. After that moonlightbattle with himself, Destournier allowed his soul no further thought ofthe present Rose, but dreamed over the frank child-charm she hadpossessed for him. He grew grave and silent, and spent much of his timewith the Sieur. 

Spring was very late. It seemed as if old Quebec would never throw offher ermine mantle. Richelieu was now at the helm in France, and thatcountry and England were at war with each other. Quebec was lookingforward to supplies and reinforcements that had been promised. 

From a cold and unusually dry May, they went into summer heats. TheSieur de Champlain spent much of his time getting his farm at CapeTourmente in order. M. Destournier was engrossed with the improvementsof the town, and keeping the Indians at work, who were, it must beconfessed, notoriously lazy. Miladi complained. Rose grew weary. Shemissed her dear friend M. Hébert, and she was puzzled at the coldnessand distance of M. Destournier. But the rambles were a comfort and akind of balance to her life. She brought wild flowers to miladi, and thefirst scarlet strawberries. And there was always such an enchantingfreshness after these excursions, that the elder woman liked her to takethem. 

Richelieu understood better than any one yet the importance of thiscolony to France, when the English were making such rapid strides in thenew world. He was planning extensive improvements in colonizing, andfitting out ships with stores and men. 

The news came to Cape Tourmente that vessels had been sighted. Word wassent on to Quebec, and there was a general rejoicing. 

But it was soon turned to terror and anguish. Some savages came paddlingfuriously to the town, and though the cries were indistinguishable atfirst, they soon gathered force. 

"The English have burned and pillaged Cape Tourmente, and are atTadoussac! Save yourselves. Man the fort. Call all to arms!"

Alas! The fort was considerably out of repair. The Indians had beenpeaceable for some time and the mother country had kept them short ofsupplies. The walled settlement was protection from marauding bands, andthe fort could have been made impregnable if the Governor had carriedout his plans and not been hampered by the lack of all-neededimprovements. 

The farmer at Cape Tourmente had been slightly wounded, and was broughtdown with the boat, on which several had escaped. The buildings had beenburned, the cattle killed, the crops laid waste. No doubt they were nowpillaging Tadoussac. 

Champlain began to prepare for defense with all the force available. Muskets were loaded, cannon trained down the river, the fort manned. Friendly Indians offered their services. All was wild alarm, the blowwas so unexpected. 

Miladi, hearing the noise and confusion, explained it her way. 

"It is always so when the horde of traders come in, " she said. She hadbeen looking over old finery, and getting ready for a return to France. 

The little convent on the St. Charles was prepared to repel anysurprise. But at mid-afternoon a boat hovered about in the river, and itwas learned presently that it conveyed some captives taken by theEnglish, who were sent with a letter from the commander of the fleet, that now appeared quite formidable, with its six well-manned vessels. 

The Governor at once called together the leading men of the place andlaid before them the summons of surrender, and the first news of the warbetween France and England. It was couched in polite terms, butcontained a well-laid plan. In all, eighteen ships had been despatchedby His Majesty, the King of Britain. Several small stations had beencaptured, also a boat with supplies from France, and all resources wereto be cut off. By surrendering they would save their homes and property, and be treated with the utmost courtesy, but it was the intention of theEnglish to take the town, although they preferred to do it withoutbloodshed. 

It was quite a lengthy document, and Champlain read it slowly, that eachsentence might be well considered. The hard winter, the late spring, thesupplies at Cape Tourmente and Tadoussac being cut off, rendered them inno situation for a prolonged struggle. But they would not yield soeasily to the demand of the English. They had the courage of men who hadundergone many hardships, and the pride of their nation. Quebec had beenthe child of the Sieur de Champlain's work and love. With one voice theyresolved to refuse, and the word was sent to Captain David Kirke. 

He meanwhile turned his fleet down the river, fancying the town an easyprey, when he espied the relief stores sent from France, a dozen or sovessels, bringing colonists, workmen, priests, women, and children, andfarming implements, as well as stores, convoyed by a man-of-war. It wasa rich prize for the Englishman, and an order for surrender was sent, which was refused. 

The battle was indeed disastrous for Quebec, though they were not toknow it until months afterward. Most of the emigrants Captain Kirkedespatched back to France, some of the least valuable vessels he burned, and sailed home with his trophies, leaving Quebec for another attempt. 

Meanwhile the little colony waited in ill-defined terror. Day after daypassed and no attack was made. Then they ventured to send out some boatsand found to their surprise the river was clear of the enemy, but everylittle settlement had been laid waste. The stock of food was growinglow, the crops were not promising. Every consignment sent from Francehad miscarried, and since the two nations were at war there was smallhope of supplies. What would they do in winter? Already the woods werescoured for nuts and edible roots, and stores were hidden away withtrembling hands. There were many plans discussed. If they could sendpart of their people out to find a Basque fishing fleet, and thus returnhome. 

No heart was heavier than that of the Sieur de Champlain. To be surethere was his renown as a discoverer and explorer, but the city he hadplanned, that was to be the crowning point of France's possessions, wasslowly falling to decay. 

CHAPTER XV

HELD IN AN ENEMY'S GRASP

These were sad times for old Quebec and for the little girl who wasblossoming into a womanhood that should have been joyous and serene, sheasked so little of life. 

When the news of the reverse and the loss of the stores reached them, they were still more greatly burthened by the influx from Tadoussac andthe settlements around. Then, too, the wandering Indians joined in theclamor for food. Trade was stopped. Mont Réal took the furs and disposedof them in other channels. No one knew how many English vessels werelying outside, ready to confiscate anything valuable. 

Madame Destournier was in a state of ungovernable terror. 

"Why should we stay here and be murdered?" she would cry. "Or starve todeath! Let us return to France, as we planned. Am I of not as muchconsideration as an Indian squaw, that you all profess so much anxietyfor?"

"It would not be prudent to cross the ocean now, " her husband said. "Wemight be taken prisoners and carried to England. You are in no state toface hardships. "

"As if I did not face them continually! Oh, I should have gone at once, when Laurent died. And if the English take the town, where will be thefortune he struggled for! I wish I had never seen the place. "

She would go on bewailing her hard fate until utterly exhausted. Therewere days when she would not let Rose out of her sight, except when herhusband entered the room. It was well that he had a motive of thehighest honor, to hold himself well in hand, though there were timeswhen his whole heart went out in pity for Rose. Was there another soulin the world that would have been so pitiful and tender?

Eustache Boullé had come from Tadoussac, since so little could be donetoward rehabilitating that, and proved himself a most worthy compatriotto Champlain. Rose was sorely troubled at first, but she soon found thatmiladi no longer cared for the marriage. She was too selfish to think oflosing one who was so useful to her. The girl's vigor and vivacity werea daily tonic to her. Would she sap the strength out of this splendidcreature? Ralph Destournier wondered, with a pang. Yet to interfere wasnot possible. He understood the jealous nature, that if given theslightest ground would precipitate an _esclandre_. 

Among the Indians flocking in was Savignon, who had gone to France yearsbefore with Champlain, and who had been in demand as an interpreter. Hehad spent a year or two up at the strait, where there was quite acentre, and the priests had established a station, and gone further onto the company's outpost. An unusually fine-looking brave, with many ofthe white man's graces, that had not sunk deep enough to be called realqualities. But they were glad to see him, and gave him a warm welcome. 

And now what was to be done? All supplies being cut off, the grainfields laid in ruin, the crops failing, how were they to sustainthemselves through the winter? Various plans were suggested. One of themost feasible, though fraught with danger, was to lead a party ofAlgonquins against the Iroquois, and capture some of their villages. Thetribe had proved itself deceitful and unfriendly on several occasions. The Algonquins were ready for this. Another was to accept the proffer ofa number settled at Gaspé, who had been warm friends with Pontgrave, andwho would winter about twenty of the suffering people. 

Ralph Destournier offered to head the expedition, as it needed a personof some experience to restrain the Indians, and good judgment in notwasting supplies, if any could be found. Savignon consented to accompanythem, and several others who were weary of the suffering around them andpreferred activity. They would be back before winter set in if they metwith any success. 

Destournier planned that his wife should be made comfortable while hewas gone. At first she protested, then she sank into a kind of sullensilence. She had seemed stronger for some weeks. 

Rose had gone for her daily walk late in the afternoon. She read miladito sleep about this time and was sure of an hour to herself. She wasfeeling the severe drain upon her quite sensibly, and though she longedto throw herself on a couch of moss and study the drifting clouds in theglory of the parting day, when the sun had gone behind the hills and thewake of splendor was paling to softer colors; lavender and pale green, that mingled in an indescribable tint, for which there could be no name. There was a little coolness in the air, but the breath of the river wassweet and revived her. Many of the leaves had dried and fallen from thedrought, yet the juniper and cedar were bluish-green in the comingtwilight, with their clusters of berries frostily gray. 

But she walked on. There was a craving in her heart for a change, alarger outlook. It would not be in marrying M. Boullé, though more thanonce when she had surprised his eyes bent wistfully upon her, a pang ofpity for him had gone to her heart. Could she spend years waiting onmiladi, whose strength of will kept her alive. Or was it that horriblefear of death? If it was true as the priests taught--oh, yes, it mustbe. God could not be so cruel as to put creatures in this world to toiland suffer, and then drop back to dust, to nothingness. Even the Indiansbelieved in another sphere, in their crude superstitious fashion, andthere must be some better place as a reward for the pain here that wasnot one's own fault. She loved to peer beyond the skies as she thought, and to drift midway between them and the grand woods, the changeful sea. What if one floated off and never came back!

There was a step beside her, and she drew a long breath, though she wasnot alarmed, for she almost felt a presence, and turned, waited. 

"Rose, " the voice said, "I have wanted to find you alone. I have severalthings to say. I have promised to go on this expedition because I feltit was necessary. You will not blame me. I have made all arrangementsfor you and miladi, and I shall be back before the real cold weathersets in. I only pray that we may be successful. "

"Yes, " she said under her breath, yet in vague surprise. 

"It is a hard burthen to lay upon you. Do not imagine I have not seenit. At first I thought it only the restless whim of failing health, butI believe she loves you as much as she can love any human being. Irealize now that she should have gone to her own sunny France long ago. She is formed for pleasure and brightness, variety, and to have newpeople about her when she exhausts the old. I should not have marriedher, but it seemed the best step then. I truly believed----"

No, he would not drag his weak justification before this pure, sweetgirl, though he had almost said "I believed she loved me. " And he hadlearned since that she loved no one but her own self. Laurent Giffardhad never awakened to the truth. But he had taken the best of her youth. 

"Oh, you must know that I am glad to make some return for all yourkindness in my childhood. And she was sweet and tender. I think it isthe illness that has changed her. Oh, I can recall many delightful hoursspent with her. I should be an ingrate if I could not minister to hernow of my best. "

"You could never be an ingrate, " he protested. 

"I hope not, " fervently. 

"I count confidently on returning. I can't tell why, for we shall riskthe fate of war, but I can almost see myself here again in the oldplace. Like our beloved Commandant I, too, have dreams of what Quebeccan be made, a glorious place to hand down to posterity. Meanwhile youwill care for her as you do now, and comfort her with your many pleasantarts. I am a man formed for business and active endeavor, and cannotminister in that manner. Perhaps Providence did not intend me for ahusband, and I have thwarted the will of Providence. "

There was a humorous strain in his voice at the last sentence. 

"Oh, you need not fear but that I will do my best. And I, too, shalllook for your home-coming, believe in it, pray for it. "

"The women will remain, and Pani will serve you to the uttermost. Whenthis weary time is ended, and we are in better condition, you will haveyour reward. "

"I do not want any reward, it is only returning what has been given. "

He knew many things miladi had grudged her, most of all the home, sinceit was of his providing and intent. 

They wandered on in silence for some time. Both hearts were too full forcommonplace talk, and he did not dare venture out of safe lines. Hecould not pretend to fatherly love, even that cloaked by brotherlinesswould be but a sham, he knew. He had his own honor to satisfy, as wellas her guilelessness. 

Now it was quite dark. 

"Oh, I must go back. It has been so pleasant that I have loitered. Letus run down this slope. "

She held out her hand, and he took it. They skimmed over the ground likechildren. Then there were the steps to climb, but she was up the first. 

"Good-night. " She waved her white hand, and he saw it in the darkness. 

"The saints bless and keep you. "

She ran over to the level and then up again toward the kitchen end. There was a savory smell of supper. A moose had been killed and dividedaround. 

"Oh, how delightful! Is there enough for two bites? One will not satisfyme. But I must see miladi. "

"No, " interposed Wanamee. "I took in a cup of broth, but she was soundlyasleep. Have some steak while it is hot. The saints be praised for amouthful of decent food. "

Yes, it was good. Pani watched with eager, hungry eyes and lips aquiver. Rose felt almost conscience-smitten that she should have been satisfiedfirst. 

"Was there much to be divided?" she asked of him. 

"He was a noble, big fellow. And they have gone up in the woods fordeer. "

Miladi was still asleep when she entered the room. She held the lamp alittle close with a sudden fear, but she saw the tranquil movement ofher chest and was reassured. There was a young moon coming up, a goldencrescent in a sky of flawless blue. It was too small to light the savagecliffs, but she could hear the plash of the incoming tide that swirledalong with the current of the river. If the English came, what then?

It was near ten when miladi woke. 

"What time is it?" she asked. "Not quite morning, for it is dark. I havehad such a splendid sleep. Why, I feel quite well. "

She sat up in the bed. 

"Come and bathe my face, Rose. Do you know whether Madame Hébert has therecipe of this fragrant water? Mine is nearly gone. It is sorefreshing. "

"I am quite sure she has. You have had no supper. There is some tastymeat broth. "

"I'm tired of pease and greens, and make-believe things that don'tnourish you at all. And there was such nice fish. Why do they not getsome? The river certainly hasn't dried up. "

"No, Madame, " in almost a merry tone, as if it might take the edge offof complaining. "But there is such a scarcity of hooks. Petit Gabou ismaking a net of dried grass that he thinks will answer the purpose. Andwe have always had such a plentiful supply of fish. "

The broth was very nourishing. Then Rose must sit with both of miladi'shands in hers, so warm and soft, hers being little beside bone andjoints. She talked of France and her youth, when she was a pretty girl, just out of the convent, and went to Paris. "You will like it so much. Ican hardly wait for the summer to come. I shall not mind if Monsieur hasso much business on hand that he cannot leave, " and her tone had alittle mocking accent. "When men get older they lose their nice ways ofcompliment and grace. They care less for their wives. Even M. DeChamplain does not fret after his, who is no doubt enjoying herselffinely. She was wise not to return. "

The slim, golden crescent had wandered away to other worlds, and thestars grew larger and brighter in their bed of blue. She watched themthrough the open window. A screen was set up so that no draught shouldannoy miladi. Presently she fell asleep again, and Rose stole to her owncouch, the other side of the screen, where she could still watch thestars. 

Savignon had come in with news. The Algonquins knew of a storehouse ofthe Iroquois, who had gone on the war-path, and would hardly be back fora whole moon. It would be best to start at once, and they beganpreparations. Some of the Indian women volunteered, they were used tocarrying burthens. Bags were packed up. They trusted to find most oftheir food upon the route. 

Miladi took the parting tranquilly. M. Ralph had spent weeks onexploring expeditions. If there was any danger in this, she did not heedit. She held up her face to be kissed, and he noted how dry and parchedthe lips were. 

He gave a brief good-bye to Rose, who was standing near. 

"Surely, he does not care for women, " Miladi thought exultingly. "Evenher fresh, young beauty is nothing to him. He has no tender, eagersoul. "

Rose went down to the plateau to see the start. 

"You are much interested, Mam'selle?" Savignon said. "Give us the charmof your thoughts and prayers. "

"You have both, most truly. " What a fine, stalwart fellow Savignon was, lighter than the average, and picturesque in his Indian costume, thoughhe often wore the garb of civilization. French had become to him almosta mother tongue. 

Yet Rose wondered a little if it was right to rob the storehouse wherethe industrious Indians had been making preparations for the comingwinter. Was it easier for one race to starve than another?

"And wish us a safe return. "

The look in his eyes disconcerted her for an instant. Her own drooped. She was acquiring a woman's wisdom. 

"I do that most heartily, " she made answer, turning aside; but theadmiration lingered over her fine, yet strong figure, with its grace ofmovement. The beautiful eyes haunted him, if they were turned away. 

Such forays were not uncommon among the tribes. The Iroquois had plantedmore than one storehouse in the wilderness, in most secluded places. Itsaved carrying burthens, as they wandered about, or if in desperateweather, they set up their wigwams, and remained eating and sleeping, until hunger drove them elsewhere. 

A ship had come down from Acadia with news that several English vesselswere hovering about. They offered to take some of the women andchildren, and M. De Champlain was thankful for this. By spring theremust be some change in affairs. The mother country could not whollyforget them. 

Rose wondered at times that miladi remained so tranquil. She slept agreat deal, and it was an immense relief. It seemed occasionally thather mind wandered, though it was mostly vague mutterings. 

Once she said quite clearly--"I will not have the child. You will cometo love her better than you do me. "

Then she opened her eyes and fixed them on Rose, with a hard, coldstare. 

"Go away, " she cried. "Go away. I will not have you here to steal hislove from me. You are only a child, but one day you will be a woman. AndI shall be growing old, old! A woman's youth ought to come back to herfor a brief while. "

Rose's heart swelled within her. Was this why miladi had taken suchqueer spells, and sometimes been unkind to her for days? And M. Destournier had always stood her friend. 

Yet she felt infinitely sorry for miladi, and that calmed her firstburst of indignation. She went out to the forest to walk. The witheredleaves lay thick on the ground, they had not been as beautiful as insome autumns, the drought had turned them brown too soon. The whitebirches seemed like lovely ghosts haunting the darkened spaces. Childrenwere digging for fallen nuts, even edible roots, and breaking offsassafras twigs. What would they do before spring, if relief did notcome!

Suppose she went away with the next vessel that came in. But then shehad promised. Oh, yes, she must look after miladi, just as carefully asif there were depths of love between them. How did she come to know somuch about love? Surely she had never loved any one with her whole soul. Neither had she craved an overwhelming affection. But now the worldseemed large, and strange, and empty to her. She rustled the leavesunder her feet, as if they made a sort of company in the loneliness. Perhaps it would not have been so bad to have taken M. Boullé's love. Ifonly love did not mean nearness, some sacred rites, kisses. She felt ifshe raised her hand in permission it might still be hers. No, no, shecould not take it, and she shivered. Why, it was nearly dark, and cold. She must run to warm her blood. 

She came in bright and glowing, her eyes in cordial shining. 

"Thank the Holy Mother that you have come, " cried Mawha. "Miladi hasbeen crying and going on and saying that you have deserted her. Wanameecould not comfort her. Run, quick. "

Miladi was sobbing as if her heart would break. Rose bent over her, smoothed her brow and hair, chafed the cold hands. 

"The way was so long and dark, " she cried, "such a long, long path. WillI have to go all alone?" and Rose could feel the terrified shiver. 

"You will not have to go anywhere, " began the girl, in a soothing tone. "I shall stay here with you. "

"But you were gone, " complainingly. 

"I will not go again. "

"Then sit here and hold my hands. I think it was a dream. I am not goingto die. I am really better. I walked about to-day. Is there word fromMonsieur? You know we are going to France in the summer. Do you knowwhat happens when one dies? I've seen the little Indian babies die. Doyou suppose they really have souls?"

"Every one born in the world has. The priest will tell you. " Rose gaineda little courage. "Perhaps you would like to see Father Jamay. "

"I went to confession a long while ago. The priest wanted my Frenchbooks. M. Ralph said I need not give them up. I prayed to the Virgin. Iprayed for many things that did not come. But we will go to France, M. Ralph promised, and he never breaks his word, so I do not need to prayfor that. I am cold. Cover me up warm, and get something for my feet. Then sit here and put your arms around me. Promise me you will never goaway again. "

"I promise"--in a sweet, soft tone. 

Then she sat on the side of the bed and placed her arm about theshoulders. How thin they were. 

"Sing something. The silence frightens me. "

Rose sang, sometimes like a chant, lines she could recall that had amusical sound. The leaning figure grew heavier, the breathing was slowand tranquil. Wanamee came in. 

"Help me put her down, " Rose said, for she was weary with the strainedposition. 

They laid her down tenderly, without waking her. 

"Stay with me, " pleaded Rose. "You know when I went away M. Destournierused to come in. I do not like to leave her alone. "

"It is curious, " exclaimed Wanamee. "This morning she seemed so well, and walked about. Then she sinks down. How long she has been ill, thisway. "

Rose wanted to ask a solemn question, but she did not dare. PresentlyWanamee dozed off, but Rose watched until the eastern sky began to showlong levels of light. There seemed an awesome stillness in the room. 

"Wanamee, " she said faintly. 

The woman rose and looked at the figure on the bed, standing someseconds in silence. 

"Go out quietly, _ma fille_, and find Mawha. Send her in. " Then sheturned Rose quite around, and the girl uttered no question. 

"What is the matter?" asked Pani. "Mam'selle, you are white as asnowdrift. "

"I think miladi is dead, " and she drew a long, strangling breath, herfigure trembling with unknown dread. 

Pani bowed and crossed himself several times. 

Wanamee came in presently. "The poor lady is gone, " she said reverently. "She was so afraid of dying, and it was just like a sleep. Pani, youmust row up to the convent at once, and ask some of the fathers to comedown. Stop first at the fort and tell the Governor. "

That Madame Destournier should die surprised no one, but it wasunexpected, for all that. It appeared to accentuate the other sorrowsand anxieties. And that M. Destournier should be away seemed doubly sad. Two of the priests came down with Pani, and held some services over thebody. Her ill health was the excuse of her not having paid moreattention to the offices of the Church, that so far had not flourishedat all well. The convent was really too far, and the chapel service hadwaned since the departure of Madame de Champlain. 

When Rose gained courage to go into the room where a few tapers weredimly burning, she lost her fear in an instant. It was a thin andwrinkled face, but it had a certain placid sweetness that often hallowsit, when pain and fear are ended. Rose pressed her lips to the coldforehead, and breathed a brief prayer that miladi had found entrance toa happier land. A new thought took possession of her. Miladi belongedwholly to Laurent Giffard now. The tie that bound her to M. Destournierwas broken, and it was as if it had never been. She remembered he hadonce said he would relinquish her in that other country. She had simplybeen given to him in her sorrow, to care for a brief while. And howgrandly he had done it. Rose was too just, perhaps with some of theincisive energy of youth, to cover up miladi's faults at once. If shehad been grateful to him for his devotion she would have thought moretenderly of love. Yet she experienced a profound pity. 

There had been set aside a burial plot, one end for the whiteinhabitants. Thither the body was taken, and laid beside her truehusband, with the rites of the Church. M. De Champlain headed theprocession, but on the outskirts there was a curious throng. 

The Héberts pressed their hospitality upon Rose, but even they were ingreat straits. Then Wanamee was less superstitious than most of herrace, and made no demur at remaining in the house, if Rose desired tostay. It was home to the girl, and she could almost fancy the betterpart of miladi's spirit hovered about it, released from suffering. 

How would M. Destournier take it? Would he regret he had not been here?

Day after day they waited the return of the party. Had there been abattle? Sometimes Rose felt as if she must join them, the suspenseseemed the hardest of all to endure. 

At last most of the Indians returned, with bags and blankets ofsupplies. There had been no battle. They had come unexpectedly upon astorehouse, cunningly hidden in the wood. There were no guards about. Sothey had entered, and after satisfying their hunger, packed corn anddried meats, onions, which would be a great treat, and nuts. Theydivided the party, and sent one relay on ahead, to travel as fast aspossible, with the good news, and relieve the famishing people. 

Quebec greeted them with the wildest joy. Savignon headed this party. They had two days' start, and though the ground was frozen, there hadbeen no deep snow to prevent the others from a tolerably comfortablemarch. They would no doubt be in soon. It seemed a large addition totheir scanty store. A great joy pervaded the little colony. 

Two days passed, then a third. A party, headed by Savignon, went out tomeet them. They found a few men, dragging and carrying weary loads. There had been an accident to M. Destournier. He had stumbled into anunseen pitfall and broken his leg. They had carried him on a litter fortwo days, then he had begged the others to leave him with an attendant, and hurry onward, coming back for him as soon as possible. 

Rose was all sympathy and anxiety. She flew to one of the half-breeds, who had borne the litter. Was there much injury beside the broken leg?

"He was a good deal shaken up, but he knew what to do about bandaging, and he uttered no groans. But when he attempted to walk the next morninghe died for a few moments, as your women sometimes do. And when he cameto life, they made the litter. He was very brave. So we rigged up a sortof tent in the woods, as he insisted on being left. "

The Commandant ordered that a party be formed at once to rescue him. They could not allow him to perish there in the wilderness. He might beill. 

"He might die, " Rose said to herself. And then an intense ungovernablelonging came over her to see him once again. Women could minister to himbetter than men. And if Wanamee and Pani would go. Pani had been so muchwith women that he had lost many of the virile Indian traits. 

Yes, they would go, but Wanamee did not quite approve of the journey. Noone could tell how deep a snow would set in. 

"But it will be only a six days' journey, and most of it through theforests. Savignon will be an excellent guide. And no one must speak ofthe great sorrow that awaits him here. "

M. De Champlain opposed the plan. It was too severe for women. Butcuriously enough Savignon said--"The blossom of Quebec is no daintyflower, to be crushed by wind and storm. If she wants to go, I am on herside. "

When Rose heard this she flew out to thank him, catching one hand inboth of hers, her eyes luminous with gladness. 

"Oh, I cannot truly thank you, Monsieur. I must go, even if I ran awayand followed on behind. And I am no delicate house-plant. "

"Thou art a brave girl, " admiringly. "Thou hast been used to woods androcks, and art strong and courageous. "

To be called monsieur was one of Savignon's great delights. He had tirednot a little of the roughness of savage life, and though he had caressedpretty Indian maidens he had never been much in love with them. And thisgirl was different from most of the white women. The courage in everyline of her face, the exuberant bounding life that flushed her veins, her straight lithe figure, and the grace of every movement, appealedstrongly to him. 

"Thou wilt find it hard going, Mam'selle, keeping step to the men, andsleeping in the woods. But three days are soon spent, and we need notmarch back so hastily. Our women have stood more than that. "

"You will see how much I can stand, " she answered proudly. She believedthe admiring eyes were for her courage alone. 

Go she must. She did not stop to question. There was only one thinguppermost in her mind. If he died she must see him; if he lived, shemust wait upon him, comfort him in his sorrow, for although in a vagueway she knew he had not come up to the highest joy in his marriage, anymore than her dear Sieur de Champlain, he had cared very tenderly formiladi, and would sorrow to know her shut out of life. And it had beenso quiet at the last, just falling asleep. Her arms had been around her, her voice the last sound miladi had heard. He would rejoice in hissorrow that all had been so tranquil. 

Rose and Wanamee came down in their robes of fur, with their deerskinfrocks underneath. Rose's cap had its visor turned up and it framed inher beautiful face. Her hair fell in loose curls, the way she had alwaysworn it, and the morning sun sent golden gleams amongst it. There was asmall crowd to wish them God-speed. 

The horses that De Champlain had brought over and a few mules that hadbeen at Cape Tourmente were carried off in the English raid. True, theywould not have been of much account in the overgrown brush of thewilderness. 

"Mam'selle, " Savignon said, after an hour or two, "do not hurry aheadso. You will tire before night. "

"I feel as if I could run, or fly, " she made answer, and she looked so. 

CHAPTER XVI

A LOVER OF THE WILDERNESS

The weather was splendid, the sky cloudless, the air scented with theresinous fragrance of cedar, fir, and pine. They paused for a middaylunch and then kept on until dark. In a clearing in an almostimpenetrable forest they paused, built a fire, and prepared to camp. Savignon drew some young saplings together and filled up the intersticeswith boughs, ordering smaller ones inside that a sort of bed should beraised off the ground. One of the men had shot some squirrels, and theirbroiling over the coals was appetizing. 

"You and Wanamee will be quite safe, " the guide said. "We shall wrap inour blankets and sleep about the fire. If you hear the cry of wolves, donot be alarmed. "

"How good you are, " Rose returned, her eyes glorious with gratefulemotions. "M. Destournier will never forget your service. It cannot berewarded. "

"Mam'selle, a man would give his life for your pleasure. Sleep well anddo not fear. "

And sleep she did, with the slumber of youth and health. Naught came toalarm them. 

Their second day's journey was uneventful, though it was not so clearand sunny, and again they camped for the night. Was there only one daymore? Rose's heart beat with alternate fear and joy. Indeed, they mightmeet the cavalcade on the way. 

She would not admit fatigue, indeed she did not feel it. Her grand hopegave lightness to her step and color to her cheeks, which were like adelicious opening rose, and you were fain to declare they had the samefragrance. When she talked to Wanamee, Savignon did not listen for anygirlish secrets, but simply the music of her voice. That day some birdastray in the forest gave his whistle, perhaps to his mate, and sheanswered it with the most enchanting music. He came so near they couldhear the flutter of his wings. Cadotte started up with his gun. 

"You shall not kill it!" she cried. "Do you think I would lure a bird tosuch a cruel, treacherous death!"

Her face was bewitching in its indignation. What spirit, what strengthof purpose shone in it!

"He will freeze before spring, Mam'selle, " Cadotte returned sullenly. 

"Then let him die as the good God intends. "

"Mam'selle, I never heard a human voice so like a bird's, " Savignondeclared, in a tone of admiration. "Do you know other voices that rangein Quebec?"

She laughed, her present anger vanishing. 

"I used to tame them when I was a child. They would come at my call. Iloved them so. And a tame deer knew my voice and followed me. "

"As anything would. Mam'selle, sing or whistle, and it will make oursteps lighter. Among the Bostonnais they march to music not as sweet asthine. "

She was glad to give them pleasure. 

The last day seemed long indeed, to her. Once they mistook the path andhad to pick their way back. Savignon's acute eyes told him another partyhad crossed it, and he went on warily. 

Presently, in the coming darkness, two scouts ran on ahead. 

"Art thou tired, Mam'selle?" asked the well-modulated voice that hadlost the guttural Indian tone. 

"Not tired, but impatient. Do you suppose we have missed them? What ifthey should have started in some other direction?"

"I hardly think that. I have expected to meet them. M. Destournier musthave been more disabled than we supposed. But we shall soon know. "

Oh, what if he were dead! A blackness fell over everything. She caughtWanamee's arm for support. It was growing so dark they kept closertogether. The dead leaves rustled under their feet, now and then in anopening they saw the sky in the soft, whitish-gray tints before it turnsto blue. 

There was a shrill, prolonged whistle. 

"They are coming back with news. " Savignon guessed it was not cheering. He answered through his fingers. 

The two scouts came hurrying forward. 

"They are gone. They must have taken some other road. The campfire isout, the stones are missing. What shall we do?"

Rose gave a soft, appealing cry, that she vainly strove to restrain. 

"We had better go on. We must stop for the night. It is too dark to findtheir trail. "

It seemed to Rose as if she would sink to the ground with indescribableterror. 

"Oh, do you think----" She caught Savignon's arm. 

"They have started on and missed the trail, " he replied, in an almostindifferent tone, but he guessed in his heart there had been somesurprise. "We must find the old place and camp for the night. To-morrowwe will seek out the trail. "

"You do not think there can have been----" Her voice faltered for veryfear. 

"We had best think nothing. We should no doubt come wide of the mark. Let us push on, " to the men. 

There were heavy hearts and slow steps. It seemed as if it must bemidnight when they reached the clearing, though it was not that late. They built their fire. Cadotte and Savignon took a survey. 

"Another party has been here, " Cadotte exclaimed, in a whisper. "Therehas been a struggle. They are carried off somewhere. "

"Do not speak of it to-night. The women are tired. And Mam'selle willhave a thousand fears. "

They found the others busy with fire and supper. Rose sat apart, herface buried in her hands, a thousand wild fears chasing one anotherthrough her mind. Life would be dreary if--if what? If he were dead? Hadhe suffered long with no one to cheer? Or had he been suddenlydespatched by some marauding party? Then they would find his poor body. Yes, to-morrow they would know all. 

She did not want any supper and crept to bed, weeping out her fears inWanamee's arms. 

They were all astir the next morning at daybreak. It was a littlecloudy. The three days had been unusually fine. Savignon had beentracing this and that clew, and presently came upon a piece of wampum, with a curious Huron design at one end. And a little further on he founda trail where things had been roughly dragged. But he came to breakfastwith no explanation. 

Did the Rose of Quebec care so much for this man? He had been like afather to her, perhaps it was only a child's love. But now M. Destournier was free to choose a new wife--if he were alive. He was abrave man, a fine man, but if he were dead! The Hurons would show scantpity to a disabled man. Savignon had done and would do his best, butsomehow he could not feel so bitterly grieved. He loved this woman--heknew that now. 

They were discussing plans when a near-by step startled them. Partingthe undergrowth, a torn and dishevelled man appeared. It was Paul DeLoie. He almost dropped on the ground at their feet. 

"I have run all night, " he cried gaspingly. "The Hurons! They took usprisoners, and the stores. They are expecting another relay of thetribe, and are going up north for the winter, to join the Ottawas. Butfirst they are to have a carouse and dance, " and the three prisoners areto be tortured and put to death. He had escaped. He supposed the partywould be back for M. Destournier and the stores. They must fly at once, and return if they would save their lives. And what madness possessedthem to bring women!

"Wait!" commanded Savignon. "Let us go apart, De Loie, and consider thematter, " and taking the man by the arm, he raised him and walked him alittle distance. 

"Now tell me--M. Destournier--how did he progress?"

"Well, indeed. We made him a crutch. We decided to take what stores wecould manage, and resume our journey, thinking we would be met by someof the party. _Ma foi_, if we had started a day earlier! There were notmany of them, but twice too many for us. There was nothing to do, wecould gain nothing by selling our lives, we thought, but now they willtake them. In two days the rest of the party, thirty or forty, will jointhem. We cannot rescue the others. Vauban could have escaped, but hewould not leave M. Destournier. And now retrace your steps at once. "

Savignon buried his face in his hands, in deep thought. Should he try torescue these men? The Hurons were superstitious. More than once he hadplayed on Indian credulity. He held some curious secrets, he had thewampum belt that he could produce, as if by magic. He was fond, too, ofadventure, of power. And he imagined he saw a way to win the prize hecoveted. He was madly, wildly in love with Rose. She was heroic. If shewould grant his desire, the safety of three people would accrue from it. And surely she had not loved the Frenchman, who until a brief while agohad a wife. As he understood, they had been as parents to her. She wasyoung, but if a man could inspire her with love--with gratitude even----

He questioned De Loie very closely. The trouble with Destournier wouldbe his inability to travel rapidly. They would soon be overtaken. Escapethat way was not feasible. 

"I will consider. Come and share our breakfast. "

Rose was walking by herself, on the outskirts of the clearing, her slimhands clasped together, her head drooping, and even so her figure wouldhave attracted a sculptor. The Indian was enchanted with it. To clasp itin his arms--ah, the thought set his hot blood in a flame. 

She turned and raised her eyes beseechingly, her beautiful, fathomlesseyes in whose depths a man easily lost himself, the curved sweetness ofthe mouth that one might drain and drain, and never quite have his fill. 

"What is it, M'sieu? Is there any hope? Can nothing be done?" Her voicewent to his heart. 

"What would you be willing to do, Mam'selle?"

"If I were a man I would attempt his rescue, or die with him. It wouldnot be so hard to die holding a friend's hand. "

"You love him very much?"

The love Savignon meant had so little place in her thoughts that thequestion did not cause her to change color. 

"He was so good to me when I was little, and ill for a long while. Heused to hold me on his knee, and let my head rest on his strong breast. And when I was well again we climbed rocks, and he showed me where thechoicest wild fruit grew. And we went out in the canoe. He taught me toread, he had books of strange, beautiful stories. And after he marriedmiladi he took me in his home as if I was a child. Ah, I could not helploving one so kind, unless I had been made of stone. And I wanted tocomfort him in his sorrow. "

Her voice, in its pathos, the eyes luminous with tears that did notfall, swept through the man like a devouring flame. He must have her. Hewould risk all, he would test her very soul. 

"You have not said what you would give. "

"My life, M'sieu, if I could exchange it for his. "

"It does not need that. Listen, Mam'selle: When I first looked upon you, I was swept away with a strange emotion. I had seen lovely girls, thereare some in our own race, with eyes of velvet, and lips that temptkisses. And I knew when I helped you get your way on this expedition, what it was; that I loved you, that I would have kissed the ground youhad walked on. And on our journey here I have dreamed beautiful, thrilling dreams of you. I slept at the door of your improvised tentlest some danger should come upon you unawares. Last night when I notedyour tired step I wanted to take you in my arms and carry you. You havefilled my soul and my body with the rapture of love. I can think ofnothing else but the bliss of straining you to my heart, of touchingyour lips with the fire that plays about mine, like the rosy lightningthat flashes through the heavens, engendered by the heat of the day. Oh, take me for your husband, and your life shall be filled with the best Ican give. You shall not weary your small hands with work, they shall bekept for a husband's kisses. I will worship you as the priests do theirVirgin. "

She had been transfixed at the outburst and flaming, passionate tone, that in its vehemence seemed to grow finer, loftier. Was that love'swork?

"But it will not save M. Destournier, " she wailed. 

"Listen again. " He stood up, manly and strong, and somehow touched herwith a subtle influence. It is not in a woman's nature to listen to atale of passionate love unmoved. "Once, among the Hurons an old witchwoman was wild to adopt me for her son. She gave me a great many secretcharms, many you white people would think the utmost foolishness. Somewere curious. And my people are superstitious. I have used them morethan once to the advantage of myself and others. I have brought aboutpeace between warring tribes. I have prevented war. I will go to theHurons, and try for M. Destournier's liberty. From what De Loie said, they mean to sacrifice the men to-morrow. There are horrid, agonizingtortures before death comes. If you will promise to marry me I will goat once and do my utmost to rescue him, them. "

"And if you fail?" Her very breath seemed like a blast of winter cold. 

"Then, Mam'selle, I can ask no reward, only a share in your sorrow. Iwill try to lighten their sufferings. That is all I can do. "

She crossed her arms upon her breast and rocked herself to and fro. 

"Oh, I cannot, I cannot, " she said, with a cry of anguish. "Another man, our dear Madame de Champlain's brother asked this thing of me, and Icould not. I do not want to marry. "

"All women do in their hearts, " he said moodily. 

Was she not quite a woman yet? Had she just the soul of the little girlwho had climbed trees, scaled rocks, and plunged headlong into theriver to swim like a fish!

"It is three lives, " he said, with the persuasive voice of the tempter. 

Three lives! And among them her best friend! Something rose in herthroat, and she thought she was dying. 

"And if I cannot?" in a tone of desperate anguish. 

"Then we must start homeward at once. When the Hurons have whet theirappetite with their hellish pleasure, it is not easily satisfied. Theywill look about for more fuel to add to the flames. So we must decide. Icannot risk my own liberty for months for nothing. It will not make M. Destournier's death pang easier. "

"Oh, go away, go away!" she almost shrieked, but the sorrow in her voicetook off the harshness. "Let me think. I do not love you! I might runaway. I might drown myself. I might not be able to keep my promise. "

"I should love you so much that you would not want to break it. Ah, Icould trust you, since you love no one else that you desire to marry. "

She dropped on the ground and hid her face, too much stunned even tocry. "Three lives" kept singing in her ears. Was she not selfish andcruel? O God, what could she do!

"You know even the Sieur and the priests have approved of these mixedmarriages, so there would be no voice raised against it. The childrenwould belong to the Church and be reared in the ways of wisdom andhonor. In my way I am well born. I could take you to Paris, where youwould be well received. I have had some excellent training. Oh, it wouldbe no disgrace. "

They were calling to him from the group. He turned away. His intenselove for her, his little understanding of a woman's soul, his passionatenature, not yet adjusted to the higher civilization, could notunderstand and appreciate the cruelty. 

When he came back her small hands were nervously beating the dried turf. He could not see her face. 

"They have decided to go at once, " he exclaimed. "De Loie says there isno time to lose. "

"I shall stay here and die, " she said. 

"That will not save any one's life. "

Oh, that was the pity of it!

She rose with a strained white face. She looked like some of thebeautiful carvings he had seen abroad. Not even anguish could make herunlovely. 

"If you will go, " she began hoarsely, and she seemed to strain her verysoul to utter the words, "and bring back M. Destournier, and the others, I will marry you--not now, but months hence, when I can resolve upon thestep. I shall have to learn--no, you must not touch me, nor kiss me, until I give you leave. "

"But you must let me take your hand once, and promise by the Holy Motherof God. "

His seriousness overawed her. She rose and held out her slim, whitehand, from which the summer's brown had faded. Her lips shook as if withan ague, but she promised. 

He wanted to kiss the hand, but he in turn was overawed. 

She heard the voices raised in dissent around the fire. What if theywould not let him go? She was chill and cold, and almost did not care. She would stay here and die. Perhaps they could take the strange, awesome journey together. 

Wanamee joined her. "Savignon has determined to go to the rescue of themen, " she began, "but De Loie thinks it a crazy step. And we must stayand risk being made prisoners. What is the matter, _ma fille_? You areas white as the river foam in a storm. "

"I am tired, " she made answer. "I slept poorly last night. Then theythink there is no chance of success?"

"Oh, no, no! And we ought to escape. "

She dropped down again, pillowing her head on a little rise of ground. Should she be glad, or sorry? Either way she seemed stunned. 

The sky cleared up presently, and the sun came out. The few men walkedabout disconsolately. The rations were apportioned, some went farther inthe woods, to find nuts, if possible. Now that the stores had been takenand two days added to the journey, want might be their portion. 

Two of the men succeeded in finding some game. There was a small streamof water, but no fish were discernible in it. It froze over at night, but they could quench their thirst, and with some dried pennyroyal madea draught of tea. 

Rose wondered if she had ever prayed before! All she could say now was:"Oh, Holy Mother of God, have pity on me. "

The long night passed. De Loie said in the morning: "I think one of youhad better start with the women. If we should be beset with the savages, they might find their way home. Here are some points I have marked out. "

"No, " returned Rose, "let us all perish together. "

"_Mon Dieu!_ Do you suppose they would let you perish? You would have tobe squaw to some brave. "

Rose shuddered. No, she could but die. 

De Loie started out on the path he had come. It was mid-afternoon. Alight snow began to fall, and the wind moaned in the trees. Rose andWanamee huddled together at the fire, their arms around each other, under the blanket. It was easy to love Wanamee. But then she had begunit as a child--Was it easy to love when one was grown?

The darkness was descending when they heard a shout. Was it friend orfoe? Another, and it came nearer. It was not the voice of an Indian. 

De Loie rushed in upon them. "You men go and relieve those at thelitter. Savignon is a wizard. He has the three men. I could not believeit at first, and I am afraid now it is a trick. You cannot trust anIndian. "

Rose drew a long breath. Then her fate was sealed. Or, if they wereattacked in the night, it would be some compensation to die together. 

They came in at last, with Destournier on an improvised hemlock litter. The fire blazed up brightly, making a striking picture of the eagerfaces. The men lowered the litter to the ground, and they crowded aroundit. Destournier was ghostly pale, but full of thankfulness. When therewas a little space open he reached out his hand to Rose. 

"You two women have been very brave, but you should not have taken thejourney. As for Savignon, we all owe him a debt that we can neverrepay. "

"It is repaid already, " returned the Indian, glancing over at Rose. "Tohave rescued you----"

"What arts and incantations you used! I could not have believed itpossible to move their stony hearts. "

"It was not their hearts. " Savignon gave a grim smile. "It was theirfears that were worked upon. I was afraid at one time that I would notsucceed. But I had a reward before me. "

"Quebec will pay you all honor. It is a grand thing to have saved threelives from torture and death. For there was no other escape. "

That night Destournier related the surprise and capture. The stores werea great loss. But they would not let him bemoan them. 

"We must get back as rapidly as we can, " he said. "I do not trust thetemper of the reinforcements, when they find they have been balked oftheir prey. "

The snow had only been a light fall, and the trees in their higherbranches were marvels of beauty. It had not reached the ground in manyplaces. 

After a frugal breakfast the cavalcade started. Destournier insistedupon walking at first, as he was freshened by his night's rest, comparatively free from anxiety. His broken leg was well bandaged, andhe used two crutches. Rose noticed the thinness and pallor, and thegeneral languid air, but she kept herself quite in the background. Savignon was really leader of the small party. 

"Wanamee, " she said, in a low tone, "will you tell M. Ralph aboutmiladi?--I thought to do it, but I cannot. And I am so sorry she left nomessage for him. He was always so good to her. And you can tell him Iheld her a long while in my arms that night. "

"You were an angel to her, _ma fille_. I used to wonder sometimes----"

"I suppose it was being ill so long, and trying so hard to get well, that made her unreasonable. It is better to go out of life suddenly, doyou not think so?"

"I should like to know a little about the hereafter. You see our nationbelieve we go at once to another land, and do not stay in that miserableplace they tell of. But many of the braves believe there are no womenin the happy hunting grounds. One is swung this way and that, " andWanamee sighed. 

Rose's mind was torn and distracted by her promise. Now and then anawful shudder took her in a giant grasp, and she thought she would dropdown and ask them to leave her. Savignon would stay behind, if sheproposed that. What if he had not gone to the Hurons? Frightful storiesof torture she had heard rushed to her mind. Old Noko had witnessedthem. So had some of the men at the fort. Death itself was not so hard, but to have burning sticks thrust into one's skin, to have fingers andtoes cut off, piecemeal--oh, she had saved him from that. Yes, she wouldmarry Savignon, and then throw herself into the river, after she hadkept her promise. 

The weather was growing colder. They halted for the night, and made afire. They had shot nothing, but the supper was very light, indeed. 

"Little Rose, " said Destournier, "come over beside me, since I cannotwell come to you. I have hardly seen you, and have not asked what hasgone on at the fort. I feel as if I had been away half a lifetime. Andmiladi----"

"Wanamee will tell you, I cannot. " She drew away the hand he held, andgently pushed the Indian woman forward, going out of the clear sound ofher voice. Oh, would it be a great sorrow to him?

Wanamee's recital of that last night set a halo about Rose in the man'smind. He had known for years that he had not loved miladi as a man couldlove, but he also questioned whether such a light, frivolous naturecould have appreciated the strong, earnest affection. Her great effortto keep herself young had led to a meretricious childishness. She had avain, narrow soul, and this had dwarfed it still more. Many a night hehad watched over her, pained by her passionate beseeching that he wouldnot let her die, her awesome terror of death. He felt God had beenmerciful not to allow her to suffer that last rending pain. He hadreally become so accustomed to the thought of her dying that it did notseem new or strange to him, but one of the inevitable things that onemust endure with philosophy. He realized the sweetness and patience ofRose through these last months. 

When Wanamee came back she was snugly tucked in her blanket, and feignedsleep. She did not want to talk. She fancied she would like to liebeside miladi in the little burying ground. Young sorrow always turns todeath as a comforter. 

That night an adventure befell them, though most of them were sleepingfrom exhaustion. It was the Indian's quick hearing that caught asuspicious sound, and then heard a stealthy rustle. He reached for hisgun, and his eyes roved sharply around the little circle. The sound camefrom nearly opposite. The fire was low, but his sight was keen, andpresently he espied two glaring eyes drawing nearer Wanamee and hercharge. There was a quick shot, a shriek, almost human, and a rushfarther in the forest. 

They were all awake in an instant. "An attack!" shouted two of the men. 

"A wolf, " rejoined Savignon. He took up a brand and peered about in thedarkness. The body was still twitching, but the head was a mangled mass. There were no others in sight, but they heard their cry growing fainterand fainter. 

Rose sat up in affright. How near it had been to her. Was she always tobe in debt to this Indian?

"Go to sleep again, " he said, in a low tone. "We shall have no morealarms to-night. I am keeping watch. I would give my life to save youfrom harm. "

Wanamee drew the trembling, shrinking figure closer. Rose felt as if herheart would burst with the sorrow she could not confess. 

CHAPTER XVII

THE PASSING OF OLD QUEBEC

They ate their last crumbs for breakfast. A fine, cutting sleet was inthe air, but they kept quite inside of the forest, except when they wereafraid of losing the trail. There was no stop for a midday meal, andthey pushed on, carrying Destournier in a litter. Must they spendanother night in the woods?

Suddenly a shout reaches them, the sound of familiar French voices, andevery heart thrilled with joy, as they answered it. Blessed relief wasat hand. 

Being alarmed at the long delay, a party had been sent out to search forthem. They halted, for indeed it seemed as if they could go no further. Weak and hungry, some of the men sat down and cried, for very joy. 

"I have hardly been worth all the trouble, " Destournier said, in abroken voice. 

"It was not altogether you, " replied one of the men. "And to haverescued some of our men from those fiendish Hurons was worth while. Savignon must have had some wonderful power to make them give up theirprey. "

The relief party were provided with food, dried meat that had come downfrom some friendly Indians. After they had eaten, they resolved to pushon, and started with good courage. The storm had ceased and the starswere pricking through the blue. The moon would rise later on. But it wasmidnight when they came in sight of the fort. The warm welcome madeamends for all. 

Wanamee took Rose under her protection. She was nearly exhausted. M. DeChamplain insisted upon caring for Destournier, and examining the leg, which was much swollen, but had been very well set. The story of thewonderful escape was told over, to interested listeners. 

"We owe Savignon a great debt, and are too poor to pay it, " said theGovernor sorrowfully. 

Poor indeed they were. It was the hardest winter the colony had known. The dearth of news was most trying, and the fear of the English descentupon them racked the brave heart of the Commandant, who saw his dream ofa great city vanishing. Jealousy had done some cruel work, and themisgovernment of the mother country stifled the best efforts. 

Rose lay listless in bed for many days. How could she meet Savignon, whohaunted the place hourly, to inquire, and begged to see her? One day shetold Wanamee to send him in, and braced herself for the interview. 

Semi-famine had not told on him, unless it had added an air ofrefinement. That he was superior to most of his race, was evident. 

He was not prepared for the white wraith-like being who did not risefrom her chair, but nodded and motioned him to a seat at a distance. 

"Oh, Mam'selle, you have been truly ill, " he said, and there was atender sort of pity in his tone. "I have been wild to see you, to hearyou speak. Mam'selle, you must not die. I cannot give you up. I havebeen starved, I have been half-crazy with impatience. Oh, can you nothave a little pity on me, when I love you so? And you have no one whohas a right to protest. You will keep your promise? For I swear to youthat I will kill any man who marries you. I cannot help if it bringsgrief upon you. It would be the sorrow of my life not to have you! Oh, let me touch your little white hand"--and he started from his seat withan eager gesture. 

She put both behind her. "I do not love you, " she began bravely. "Itwould take time----"

"I said I would wait, Rose of Quebec, wait months, for your sweetness toblossom for me. But I cannot see you go to another. "

"There is no other. There will be no other. " She was sure she told thewhole truth. "But if you insist now, I shall die before a marriagecomes. I could slip out of life easily. Perhaps when I am strong again, courage may come back to me. You must go away and let me be quite bymyself, and think how brave you were, how patient you are. Then whenyou come again----"

She would be in her white winding sheet, then, and he would be afraid tokiss her. 

"But I won you fairly, Mam'selle. And I had great trembling of heart, for the Huron chief was obdurate. I succeeded at length. _He_ has had awife, he does not need another. He might be your father. And you haverepaid him for all care by giving him back his life, by saving him fromtorture you know little about. For if the party joining them haddiscovered the robbery of their storehouse, there would have been littlemercy. Oh, Mam'selle, how can so sweet a being be so cold andunyielding?"

"I have told you the secret of it. I do not love you. I do not want youfor a husband. But I will keep my promise. Give me time to get well. Itmay not look so terrible to me then. "

How lovely she was in her pleading, even if it did deny. He could havesnatched her to his heart and stifled her with kisses, yet he did notdare to touch so much as her little finger. What strange power held heraloof? But if she was once his wife----

"A month, " he pleaded. 

"Longer than that. Three months. Three whole moons. Then you may comeagain and I will answer you. "

His face paled with anger, his eyes were points of flame, his blood washot within him. 

"I will not wait. "

"Then you may have my dead body. "

"But you break your promise. "

"I ask you to wait, " she said, in a steady tone. "That is all. "

"And you will not seek to die, Mam'selle?"

"I will be your wife then. Now go. I am too tired to argue any more. "

A sudden ray of hope kindled in the Indian's heart. He would see M. Destournier, and lay the case before him, and beg his assistance. Surelyhe could not refuse, when his life had been saved!

Rose leaned back in a half-faint. Oh, surely God would take her beforethat time. But she had promised in good faith. Matters might lookdifferent to her when she was strong once more. 

Savignon meant to be armed at all points. He went up to the St. Charlesand laid his case before one of the fathers. His fine bearing andintelligence won him much favor. 

"Men often married Indian women, who made good wives. In this case ifthe woman desired to take him for her husband, there could be no realobjection; it was between the two parties. No over-persuasion was to beused. And if her friends or parents consented, it would be right enough. Only they must truly love each other. "

He knew now she did not truly love him. You might beat an Indian womaninto obedience--he had never struck one since he had come to manhood. But this beautiful being, who was like a bit of flame, would be blownout by harshness or force, and one would have only the cold body left. If he could not make her love him at the end of the three months----

Then he sought Destournier, and laid the tale before him. He had wonMademoiselle honorably. She had given her promise. At the end of thethree months he would come for her. Now he had resolved to go to theislands, since it would be wretched to stay here and not see Mam'selle. 

"Yes, the best thing, " Destournier said, but he was stunned by thebargain. Was his life to cost that sacrifice? There must be some way ofpreventing it. 

As the days went on he considered various plans. This was why Rose wasso languid and unlike herself. Perhaps the hard winter and poor food hadsomething to do with it. She had bought his life at too great asacrifice. And then came the sweet, sad knowledge that he loved her, also. 

The spring was quite early. Men began to work in their gardens and mendthe damages of the winter, but with a certain fear of what was to come. And one day Destournier found Rose sitting in the old gallery, where shehad run about as a child. But she was a child no longer. Theindescribable change had come. There were womanly lines in her figure, although it was thinner than of yore, and the light in her eyes deeper. 

He had given up the house to her and the two Indian women, with Pani forattendant. M. Pontgrave had been a great invalid through the winter, andbesought the younger man's company. The Sieur often came in and theytalked over the glowing plans and dreams of the earlier days, when theywere to rear a city that the mother country could be proud of. 

He understood why Rose had shunned him, and whenever he resolved to takeup this troublous subject his courage failed him. Saved from thismarriage she surely must be. In a short time Savignon would return. Hehad known of two women who had cast in their lots with the better-classIndians at Tadoussac, and were happy enough. But they were not Rose. 

He came slowly over to her now. She looked up and smiled. Much keepingindoors of late had made her skin fair and fine, but her soft hair hadnot shed all its gold. 

"Rose, " he began, then paused. 

She flushed, but made a little gesture, as if he might be seated besideher. 

"Rose, " he said again, "in the winter you saved my life. I have known itfor some time. "

Her breath came with a gasp. How had he learned this, unless Savignonhad come before the time?

"And you paid a great price for it. "

"Oh, oh!" she clasped her hands in distress. "How did you know it?"

"Savignon told me before he went away. He asked my consent to yourmarriage. I could not give it then. He will soon return. I cannot giveit now. "

"But it was a promise. Monsieur, your life was of more account thanmine. "

"Do you think I will accept the sacrifice? I have been weak and cowardlynot to settle this matter before, not to give you the assurance that Iwill make a brave fight for your release. "

"I was very sad and frightened at first, partly ill, as well, and Ihoped not to live. But the good God did not take me. And if He meant meto do this thing, keep my word, I must do it. I asked Father Jamay onetime about promises, and he said when one had vowed a vow it must bekept. And I have prayed for courage when the time comes. See, I am quitetranquil. "

She raised her face and he read in it a nobly spiritual expression. Herecalled now that she had gone up to the convent quite often withWanamee, and that more than once she had slipped into Madame deChamplain's _prie-dieu_, that her husband never would have disturbed. Was she finding fortitude and comfort in a devotion to religion thatwould strengthen her to meet this tremendous sacrifice? She looked likea saint already. 

She could not tell him that he knew only half, that he might still bethe object of Savignon's vengeance, if she failed to keep her word. 

"Perhaps the Sieur will have something to say, if my wishes fail. Unless you tell me you love this Indian, and that seems monstrous to me, this marriage shall never take place. "

"It must, it must, " she said, though her face was like marble, where ithad been human before. "M'sieu, what is right must be done. I promised, and you were saved. "

"Of your own free will? Rose, " he caught both hands in a pressure thatseemed to draw her soul along with it, "answer me truly. "

"Of my will, yes, Monsieur. " Her white throat swelled with the anguishshe repressed. 

"You have left out the 'free, '" but he knew well why she could not utterit. 

"Monsieur, I think you would be noble enough to give your life for afriend"--she was about to say "whom you loved, " but she caught her voicein time. 

Was this heroic maiden the little girl who had run wild in the old town, and sung songs with the birds; who had been merry and careless, butalways a sweet human Rose; the child he had taken to his heart long ago, the girl he had watched over, the woman--yes, the woman he loved with aman's first fervent passion! She should not go out of his life, now thatGod had made a space for her to come in it. Miladi he had given up toLaurent Giffard, she had never belonged to him in the deep sacredness oflove. And as he watched her, his eyes seeming to look into her soul, through the motes of light that illumined them, he knew it was notsimply that she had no love for the Indian, but that she loved him. Itseemed the sublime moment of his life, the sweetest consciousness thathe had ever known. 

"You gave something greater than life. Listen, " and he drew his browsinto a resolute line. "When that man comes we will have it out betweenus. For I love you, too. I owe you a great reward that only a life'sdevotion can pay. I am much older, but I seem to have just awakened tothe dream of bliss that sanctifies manhood. My darling, if a better mancame, I could give you up, if I went hungering all the rest of my days. But you shall not go to certain wretchedness. And he must see the truth. That is the way a man should love. "

Her slender, white throat rose and fell like a heartbeat. With Savignonshe would be loved with a fierce passion, for the man's supreme joy;this man would love for the woman's joy. 

"Monsieur, I have studied the subject, and I think it is right. I prayyou, do not disturb my resolve. It has been made after many prayers. Ifthe good Father should change His mind--but that is hardly to be thoughtof. Do not let us talk about it, " and she rose. 

For instead of throwing herself in the river, as she had thought in herwildness, she could cross to France, and enter a convent, if she couldnot endure it. 

Ralph Destournier saw that argument was useless. When the time came, hewould act. 

But May passed without bringing the lover. Quebec was beginning to takecourage, and what with hunting and fishing, semi-starvation was at anend. Emigrants came back and all was stir and activity in the littletown. 

There came a letter to Rose, after a long delay. Savignon had joined aparty of explorers, who were pushing westward, and marvelled at thewonderful country. He had pondered much over his desires, and while hislove was still strong, he did not want an unwilling bride. He would giveher a longer time to consider--a year, perhaps. He had wrung a reluctantassent from her, he admitted, and taken an ungenerous advantage. Forthis he would do a year's penance, without sight of the face that had socharmed him. 

Was he really brave enough to do that? Rose thought so. Destournierbelieved it some new attraction to the roving blood of the wilderness. 

But Rose would not wholly accept her freedom. Still she was more likethe Rose of girlhood, though she no longer climbed or ran races. TheSieur was whiling away the heavy hours of uncertainty by teachingseveral Indian girls, and Rose found this quite a pleasure. 

The servant came in with some news. Not the French vessel they hopedfor, but an English man-of-war, with two gunboats, was approaching. 

If defence had been futile before, it was doubly so now. The fort wasout of repair, the guns useless from lack of ammunition, there was noprovision to sustain a siege. A small boat with a flag of truce roundedthe point, and with a heavy heart Champlain displayed his on the fort. 

The two brothers of Captain David Kirke, who was now at Tadoussac, hadagain been sent to propose terms of surrender. The English were to takepossession in the name of their king. 

It was a sad party that assembled around the large table, where so manyplans and hopes had stirred the brave hearts of the explorers andbuilders-up of new France. Old men they were now, Pontgrave a wreck fromrheumatism, a few dead, and Champlain, with the ruin of his ambitionsbefore him. There was some vigorous opposition to the demands, but therewas clearly no alternative but surrender. Hard as the terms were, theymust be accepted. And on July 20, 1629, the lilies of France ceased towave over Quebec, dear old Quebec, and Captain Louis Kirke tookpossession of the fort and the town, in the name of His Majesty, KingCharles I, and the standard of England floated quite as proudly over theSt. Lawrence. 

Did they dream then that this scene would be enacted over again when anew Quebec, proud of her improvements and defences, that were consideredimpregnable, should fight and lose one of the greatest of battles, andtwo of the bravest of men, and again lower the lilies! A greater romancethan that of old Quebec, the dream of the Sieur de Champlain. 

But it seemed a sad travesty that the mother country should send succortoo late. A French vessel, with emigrants and supplies, came in sightonly to fall into the hands of the victorious English. 

Captain Emery de Caen insisted that peace had been declared two monthsbefore, but the Kirkes would not admit this. It was said that allconquests after that date were to be restored. A new hope animated theheart of the brave old Commandant. If it were true, the lilies mightreplace the flaunting standard. 

Many of the citizens preferred to remain. They had their little homesand gardens, and the English proved not overbearing. Then there was anend to present want. A hundred and fifty men gave the town a newimpetus, and when the next fleet came, with the large war-ships, therewas a certain aspect of gayety, quite new to the place. 

After some discussion, Champlain resolved to return to France, andthence to England, to understand the terms of peace, and if possible, towin New France once more. 

Ralph Destournier was a Frenchman at heart, though a little Englishblood ran in his veins. He had a strong desire to see France. 

"Will you go?" he asked of Rose. 

"Not until the year is ended, " she said gravely. "But if you willgo--Wanamee and Pani can care for me. I am a little girl no longer. "

It was true. There was no more little girl, but there was no more oldQuebec. It had already taken on a different aspect. Officers and men inbright uniforms climbed the narrow, crooked streets, with gay jests, inwhat seemed their rough language; there were little taverns opened, where the fife and drum played an unmelodious part. Religion was free, for there had come to be a number of Huguenots, as well as of the newEnglish church. The poor priests were at their wits' end, but they werewell treated. 

Eustache Boullé was to go with the Sieur, but he never returned. He tooka rather fond farewell of Rose. "If you would go, we might findsomething of your family, " he said. "I once had a slight clew. "

"Is it not worth looking after?" asked Destournier, as he and Rose werewalking the plateau, since known as the Plains of Abraham. "If you wereproved of some notable family--there have been so many over-turns. "

"Would you feel prouder of me?"

"No. Do you not know that you are dearer to me as the foundling ofQuebec, and the little girl I knew and loved?"

She raised luminous eyes and smiled. 

"Then I do not care. No place will seem like home but this. "

He would not go to France, but busied himself with his fields and histenants. He came back to the old house, altered a little, the room wheremiladi had spent her fretful invalid years was quite remodelled. Vinesgrew up about it. The narrow steps were widened. 

Autumn came, and winter. The cold and somewhat careless living carriedoff many of the English. But Madame Hébert had married again, andThérèse had found a husband. There was Nicolas Revert, with some growingchildren. Duchesne, a surgeon, they had been glad to welcome. ThomasGodefroy, Pierre Raye, and the Couillards formed quite a French colony. They met now and then, and kept the old spirit alive with their songsand stories. 

June had come again, and the town had begun to bloom. There were stillparties searching for the north sea, for the route to India, for thegreat river that was said to lie beyond the lakes. The priests, too, were stretching out their lines, especially the Jesuits, about whomstill lingers the flavor of heroic martyrdom. Father Breibouf comingback for a short stay, to get some new word from France, told the fateof one unfortunate party. Among them he said "was that fine Indianinterpreter, Savignon, who you must remember went to the rescue of aparty the last time he was in Quebec. He was a brave man, and a greatloss to us. He had come to an excellent state of mind, and was one ofthe few Indians that give me faith in the salvation of the race. "

Rose's eyes were lustrous with tears as she listened to this eulogy. Hehad proved nobler than his first passion of love. She had some Massessaid for his soul, but it pleased her better to give thanks to God forhis redemption. 

"Now you belong to no one but me, " Destournier said to her some weekslater, when she had recovered from her sorrow. "Yet I feel that it isselfish to take your sweet youth. I am no longer young. I shall alwaysbe a little lame, and never perhaps realize my dream of prosperity. ButI love you. I loved you as a little girl, you have always, in somefashion, belonged to me. "

"I am glad to belong to you, to take your name. Do you remember that Ihave no other name but Rose? You are very good to shelter me thus. Ithink I could never have gone gladly to any one else. We are a part ofold Quebec, we are still French, " and there was a little triumph in hertone. 

It was true the English had taken possession after peace had beendeclared, and had not the right to hold the country. When Francedemanded the recession King Charles held off, and the Kirkes wereunwilling to yield up the government, as they found great profit in thefur trade. But needing money sorely, and as the Queen's dowry as aFrench princess had only been half paid, he made this a condition, andRichelieu accepted it. 

So in 1632 Acadia, and all the important points in Canada, were cededback to France. 

In the spring of the next year Champlain was again commissionedGovernor, and he set sail from Dieppe, with three vessels freighted withgoods, provisions, and the farming implements of that day, clothing andsome of the new hand-looms, beside seeds of all kinds. Two hundredpersons, many of them married couples, and farmers were to found a newQuebec. 

One May morning, just at sunrise, there was a great firing of bombards, and for a brief while all was consternation and fear. But persons sentout to explore, brought the welcome news of Champlain's return. Thenwent up a mighty shout of joy, and the lilies of France were once moreunfurled to the breeze. There stood the stalwart old commander, whoselife work was crowned with success. All was gratulation. He must havebeen touched by the ovation. 

M. And Madame Destournier were among the throng, while Wanamee carriedthe little son, who stared about with wondering eyes, and smiled as ifhe enjoyed the glad confusion. 

Even the Indians vied with the French, as he was triumphantly escortedup the cliff, with colors flying and drums beating, and once morereceived the keys of the fort. The spontaneous welcome showed how deephe was in the affections of the people. He had been thwarted in many ofhis plans, neglected, traduced, but this hour made amends. 

"Little Rose, " he said, "thou art a part of old Quebec, but thy sonbegins with the new régime. Heaven bless and prosper thee and thyhusband. I should have missed thee sorely had any untoward eventhappened. "

The settlement at the foot of the cliff had been burned, but the uppertown, as it came to be called, had stretched out. The Héberts were onthe summit of the cliff, that part of the town where the ancientbishops' palace stood for so long. Many of the former settlers had comeup here. 

"I had hoped Madame de Champlain would return with him, " Rose said. "Iwonder if any time will ever come when I shall love myself better thanyou. "

He bent over and kissed her. He had never quite understood love or knownwhat happiness was until now. 

When the Indians learned of the return of their beloved white chief, they planned to come in a body, and salute him. Algonquins, Ottawas, Montagnais, and the more friendly Hurons, came with their gifts, andsmoked the pipe of peace. 

In the autumn Champlain commenced the first parochial church, called, appropriately, Notre Dame de Recouvrance. The Angelus was rung threetimes a day. For now the brave old soldier had grown more religious, there were no more exploring journeys, no more voyages across the stormyocean. He had said good-bye to his wife for the last time, though now, perhaps, he understood her mystical devotion better. 

It was indeed a new Quebec. There was no more starvation, no moredigging of roots, and searches for edible food products. Their anxiousfaces gave way to French gayety. Up and down the steep road-way, leadingfrom the warehouses to the rough, tumble-down tenements by the river, men passed and repassed with jests and jollity, snatches of song or amerry good-day, for it was indeed good. There were children of mixedparentage, playing about, for Indian mothers were no uncommon thing. Thefort, the church, and the dwellings high up above, gave it a picturesqueaspect. You heard the boatmen singing their songs of old France as theywent up and down the beautiful river. Stone houses began to appear, though wigwams still remained. New streets were opened, but they wereloth to level the hills, and some of them remain to this day. 

Ralph and Rose Destournier had a happy life. Children grew up aroundthem. A large, new house received them presently, but they kept a fondremembrance for the old one that seemed somehow to belong exclusively toMiladi and a dreamy sort of old life. 

A mixed population it was, shaped by the sincerity of their religion. There were priests in their gray and black cassocks, officers in bravetrappings, traders, Indians, farmers, stout and strong, and thepicturesque _coureurs de bois_, that came to be a great feature, andadded not a little to the romance of the place. They were not all mereadventurers, but they loved a roving life. Settlements were made hereand there, an important one at Three Rivers, where the Récolletsestablished a mission. The summers were given over to work and business, thronged with traders and trappers, but they found time in the wintersfor much social life. 

If the Sieur missed his old friend Hébert, there were others to take anactive interest in horticulture. Pontgrave was no more, but his grandsonkept up the name. A few years later the earnest young René de Robaultgave his fortune for the building of a college, and this kept the youngmen from returning to old France for an education. Convent schools wereestablished, and Indian girls were trained in the amenities andindustries of social life. Montreal spread out her borders as well, theBeauport road came to be a place of fine estates. All the way to themouth of the great river there were trading stations. The fur company'sbusiness was good, there were new explorations to Lake Huron, GeorgianBay, Lake Michigan, up to the Fox river. 

Of the sons and daughters growing up in the Destournier household, Hélène, who should have been a devotee, was a merry madcap, who exceededher mother in daring feats, a dark-eyed, laughing maid the Indian girlsadored. She could manage a canoe, she could fly, they said, she tooksuch wonderful leaps. Rose could sing like a bird and had a fondness forall animals. Little Barbe was a dainty, loving being, always clinging toher mother, and three sons were devoted to their father whose snowywhite hair was like a crown of silver. They loved to hear the old tales, and fired with resentment when the lilies of France had to give way tothe flag of England. 

"But they will never do it again, " Robert Destournier would exclaim, with flashing eyes. 

But they did almost a century later. Robert was not there to strike auseless blow for his beloved land. That belongs to the story of a newerQuebec, and now all the romances are gathered up into history. 

In the autumn of 1635 the brave, beloved Champlain passed away in theheart of the city that had been his love, his ambition, his life-dream. The explorer, the crusader, the sharer of toils and battles, his storyis one of the knightly romances of that period, and his name isenshrined with that of old Quebec. Other heroes were to come, otherbattles to be fought, much work for priest and civilian, but this is thesimplest, the bravest of them all, for its mighty work was done at greatodds. 

To-day you find the Citadel, the old French fort, but the wharves anddocks run out in the river, and there are steamboats, instead of canoes. There is the Market Place and the City Hall, the Grande Allée St. LouisPlace and Gate, the crowded business-point, with its ferries, the greatLouise basin and embankment. The city runs out to St. Charles river, andstretches on and on until you reach the Convent of the Sacred Heart. There are still the upper and the lower town, and the steep ways, theheights that Wolfe climbed, the world-famed Plains of Abraham. 

Everywhere is historic ground, monuments of courage, zeal, and religion. The streets have old names. Here on a height so steep you wonder howthey are content to climb it, juts out a little stone eyrie, just as itstood a hundred years ago. Three or four generations have lived withinits walls, and they are as French to-day as they were then. They wantnothing of the modern gauds of the present. Grandmothers used the clumsyfurniture, and it is almost worth a king's ransom, it has so manylegends woven around it. 

There is the Château Frontenac, that recalls romance and bravery. Thereare churches, with their stories. There are the old Jesuit barracks, outof which went many a heroic soul to face martyrdom, there is the Chiend'Or, with its stone dog gnawing a bone, and the romance of NicolasJaquin Philibert, the brave Huguenot. 

There are old graveyards, where rest the pioneers who prayed, and hoped, and starved with Champlain. All the stories can never be written, allthe monuments that speak of glory do not tell of the sufferings. Yetthere were happy lives, and happy loves, as well. The storms die out, the light and sunshine dry up the tears, and courage is given to go on. 

The old French days have left their impress. Champlain will always be aliving memory, as the founder of one of the marvellous cities of theworld. Gay little girls run about and climb the heights, they dance andsing, and have their festivals, and are happy in the thrice-renewedQuebec. Many a Rose has blossomed and faded since the days ofDestournier. 

THE END

 * * * * *

The "Little Girl" Series

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 A Little Girl in Old Quebec

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