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+The Project Gutenberg eBook, A Little Girl in Old Detroit, by Amanda
+Minnie Douglas
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+
+
+
+Title: A Little Girl in Old Detroit
+
+
+Author: Amanda Minnie Douglas
+
+
+
+Release Date: March 1, 2007  [eBook #20721]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD DETROIT***
+
+
+E-text prepared by Barbara Tozier, Bill Tozier, Emmy, and the Project
+Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net/c/)
+
+
+
+A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD DETROIT
+
+by
+
+AMANDA M. DOUGLAS
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+A. L. Burt Company
+Publishers New York
+
+Copyright, 1902,
+by Dodd, Mead & Company.
+
+First Edition Published September, 1902.
+
+
+
+
+TO
+
+MR. AND MRS. WALLACE R. LESSER
+
+
+
+Time and space may divide and years bring changes, but remembrance is
+both dawn and evening and holds in its clasp the whole day.
+
+A. M. D., NEWARK, N. J.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+    CHAPTER                                  PAGE
+
+        I. A HALF STORY,                        1
+
+       II. RAISING THE NEW FLAG,               16
+
+      III. ON THE RIVER,                       33
+
+       IV. JEANNE'S HERO,                      50
+
+        V. AN UNKNOWN QUANTITY,                65
+
+       VI. IN WHICH JEANNE BOWS HER HEAD,      82
+
+      VII. LOVERS AND LOVERS,                 102
+
+     VIII. A TOUCH OF FRIENDSHIP,             121
+
+       IX. CHRISTMAS AND A CONFESSION,        139
+
+        X. BLOOM OF THE MAY,                  157
+
+       XI. LOVE, LIKE THE ROSE, IS BRIERY,    176
+
+      XII. PIERRE,                            194
+
+     XIII. AN UNWELCOME LOVER,                209
+
+      XIV. A HIDDEN FOE,                      228
+
+       XV. A PRISONER,                        243
+
+      XVI. RESCUED,                           265
+
+     XVII. A PÆAN OF GLADNESS,                289
+
+    XVIII. A HEARTACHE FOR SOME ONE,          307
+
+      XIX. THE HEART OF LOVE,                 327
+
+       XX. THE LAST OF OLD DETROIT,           344
+
+
+
+
+
+A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD DETROIT.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+A HALF STORY.
+
+
+When La Motte Cadillac first sailed up the Strait of Detroit he kept his
+impressions for after travelers and historians, by transcribing them in
+his journal. It was not only the romantic side, but the usefulness of
+the position that appealed to him, commanding the trade from Canada to
+the Lakes, "and a door by which we can go in and out to trade with all
+our allies." The magnificent scenery charmed the intrepid explorer. The
+living crystal waters of the lakes, the shores green with almost
+tropical profusion, the natural orchards bending their branches with
+fruit, albeit in a wild state, the bloom, the riotous, clinging vines
+trailing about, the great forests dense and dark with kingly trees where
+birds broke the silence with songs and chatter, and game of all kinds
+found a home; the rivers, sparkling with fish and thronged with swans
+and wild fowl, and blooms of a thousand kinds, made marvelous pictures.
+The Indian had roamed undisturbed, and built his temporary wigwam in
+some opening, and on moving away left the place again to solitude.
+
+Beside its beauty was the prospect of its becoming a mart of commerce.
+But these old discoverers had much enthusiasm, if great ignorance of
+individual liberty for anyone except the chief rulers. There was a
+vigorous system of repression by both the King of France and the Church
+which hampered real advance. The brave men who fought Indians, who
+struggled against adverse fortunes, who explored the Mississippi valley
+and planted the nucleus of towns, died one after another. More than half
+a century later the English, holding the substantial theory of
+colonization, that a wider liberty was the true soil in which
+advancement progressed, after the conquest of Canada, opened the lake
+country to newcomers and abolished the restrictions the Jesuits and the
+king had laid upon religion.
+
+The old fort at Detroit, all the lake country being ceded, the French
+relinquishing the magnificent territory that had cost them so much in
+precious lives already, took on new life. True, the French protested,
+and many of them went to the West and made new settlements. The most
+primitive methods were still in vogue. Canoes and row boats were the
+methods of transportation for the fur trade; there had been no printing
+press in all New France; the people had followed the Indian expedients
+in most matters of household supplies. For years there were abortive
+plots and struggles to recover the country, affiliation with the Indians
+by both parties, the Pontiac war and numerous smaller skirmishes.
+
+And toward the end of the century began the greatest struggle for
+liberty America had yet seen. After the war of the Revolution was ended
+all the country south of the Lakes was ceded to the United Colonies.
+But for some years England seemed disposed to hold on to Detroit,
+disbelieving the colonies could ever establish a stable government. As
+the French had supposed they could reconquer, so the English looked
+forward to repossession. But Detroit was still largely a French town or
+settlement, for thus far it had been a military post of importance.
+
+So it might justly be called old this afternoon, as almost two centuries
+had elapsed since the French had built their huts and made a point for
+the fur trade, that Jeanne Angelot sat outside the palisade, leaning
+against the Pani woman who for years had been a slave, from where she
+did not know herself, except that she had been a child up in the fur
+country. Madame De Longueil had gone back to France with her family and
+left the Indian woman to shift for herself in freedom. And then had come
+a new charge.
+
+The morals of that day were not over-precise. But though the woman had
+had a husband and two sons, one boy had died in childhood, the other had
+been taken away by the husband who repudiated her. She was the more
+ready to mother this child dropped mysteriously into her lap one day by
+an Indian woman whose tongue she did not understand.
+
+"Tell it over again," said Jeanne with an air of authority, a dainty
+imperiousness.
+
+She was leaning against one knee, the woman's heels being drawn up close
+to her body, making a back to the seat of soft turf, and with her small
+hand thumping the woman's brown one against the other knee.
+
+"Mam'selle, you have heard it so many times you could tell it yourself
+in the dark."
+
+"But perhaps I could not tell it in the daylight," said the girl, with
+mischievous laughter that sent musical ripples on the sunny air.
+
+The woman looked amazed.
+
+"Why should you be better able to do it at night?"
+
+"O, you foolish Pani! Why, I might summon the _itabolays_--"
+
+"Hush! hush! Do not call upon such things."
+
+"And the _shil loups_, though they cannot talk. And the _windigoes_--"
+
+"Mam'selle!" The Indian woman made as if she would rise in anger and
+crossed herself.
+
+"O, Pani, tell the story. Why, it was night you always say. And so I
+ought to have some night-sight or knowledge. And you were feeling lonely
+and miserable, and--why, how do you know it was not a _windigo_?"
+
+"Child! child! you set one crazy! It was flesh and blood, a squaw with a
+blanket about her and a great bundle in her arms. And I did not go in
+the palisade that night. I had come to love Madame and the children, and
+it was hard to be shoved out homeless, and with no one to care. There is
+fondness in the Indian blood, Mam'selle."
+
+The Indian's voice grew forceful and held a certain dignity. The child
+patted her hand and pressed it up to her cheek with a caressing touch.
+
+"The De Bers wanted to buy me, but Madame said no. And Touchas, the
+Outawa woman, had bidden me to her wigwam. I heard the bell ring and the
+gates close, and I sat down under this very oak--"
+
+"Yes, this is _my_ tree!" interrupted the girl proudly.
+
+"I thought it some poor soul who had lost her brave, and she came close
+up to me, so close I heard the beads and shells on her leggings shake
+with soft sound. But I could not understand what she said. And when I
+would have risen she pushed me back with her knee and dropped something
+heavy in my lap. I screamed, for I knew not what manner of evil spirit
+it might be. But she pressed it down with her two hands, and the child
+woke and cried, and reaching up flung its arms around my neck, while the
+woman flitted swiftly away. And I tried to hush the sobbing little
+thing, who almost strangled me with her soft arms."
+
+"O Pani!" The girl sprang up and encircled her again.
+
+"I felt bewitched. I did not know what to do, but the poor, trembling
+little thing was alive, though I did not know whether you were human or
+not, for there are strange shapes that come in the night, and when once
+they fasten on you--"
+
+"They never let go," Jeanne laughed gayly. "And I shall never let go of
+you, Pani. If I had money I should buy you. Or if I were a man I would
+get the priest to marry us."
+
+"O Mam'selle, that is sinful! An old woman like me! And no one can be
+bought to-day."
+
+Jeanne gave her another hug. "And you sat here and held me--" forwarding
+the story.
+
+"I did not dare stir. It grew darker and all the air was sweet with
+falling dews and the river fragrance, and the leaves rustled together,
+the stars came out for there was no moon to check them. On the Beaufeit
+farm they were having a dance. Susanne Beaufeit had been married that
+noon in St. Anne. The sound of the fiddles came down like strange voices
+from out the woods and I was that frightened--"
+
+"Poor Pani!" caressing the hand tenderly.
+
+"Then you stopped sobbing but you had tight hold of my neck. Suddenly I
+gathered you up and ran with all my might to Touchas' hut. The curtain
+was up and the fire was burning, and I had grown stiff with cold and
+just stumbled on the floor, laying you down. Touchas was so amazed.
+
+"'Whose child is that?' she said. 'Why, your eyes are like moons. Have
+you seen some evil thing?'"
+
+"And you thought me an evil thing, Pani!" said the child reproachfully.
+
+"One never can tell. There are strange things," and the woman shook her
+head. "And Touchas was so queer she would not touch you at first. I
+unrolled the torn piece of blanket and there you were, a pretty little
+child with rings of shining black hair, and fair like French babies, but
+not white like the English. And there was no sign of Indian about you.
+But you slept and slept. Then we undressed you. There was a name pinned
+to your clothes, and a locket and chain about your neck and a tiny ring
+on one finger. And on your thigh were two letters, 'J. A.,' which meant
+Jeanne Angelot, Father Rameau said. And oh, Mam'selle, _petite fille_,
+you slept in my arms all night and in the morning you were as hungry as
+some wild thing. At first you cried a little for _maman_ and then you
+laughed with the children. For Touchas' boys were not grown-up men then,
+and White Fawn had not met her brave who took her up to St. Ignace."
+
+"I might have dropped from the clouds," said the child mirthfully. "The
+Great Manitou could have sent me to you."
+
+"But you talked French. Up in the above they will speak in Latin as the
+good fathers do. That is why they use it in their prayers."
+
+Jeanne nodded with a curl of disbelief in her red-rose mouth.
+
+"So then Touchas and I took you to Father Rameau and I told him the
+story. He has the clothes and the paper and the locket, which has two
+faces in it--we all thought they were your parents. The letters on it
+are all mixed up and no one can seem to make them out. And the ring. He
+thought some one would come to inquire. A party went out scouting, but
+they could find no trace of any encampment or any skirmish where there
+was likely to be some one killed, and they never found any trace. The
+English Commandant was here then and Madame was interested in you.
+Madame Bellestre would have you baptized in the old church to make sure,
+and because you were French she bade me bring you there and care for
+you. But she had to die and M. Bellestre had large interests in that
+wonderful Southern town, New Orleans, where it is said oranges and figs
+and strange things grow all the year round. Mademoiselle Bellestre was
+jealous, too, she did not like her father to make much of you. So he
+gave me the little house where we have lived ever since and twice he has
+sent by some traders to inquire about you, and it is he who sees that we
+want for nothing. Only you know the good priest advises that you should
+go in a retreat and become a sister."
+
+"But I never shall, never!" with emphasis, as she suddenly sprang up.
+"To be praying all day in some dark little hole and sleep on a hard bed
+and count beads, and wear that ugly black gown! No, I told Father Rameau
+if anyone shut me up I should shout and cry and howl like a panther! And
+I would bang my head against the stones until it split open and let out
+my life."
+
+"O Jeanne! Jeanne!" cried the horror-stricken woman. "That is wicked,
+and the good God hears you."
+
+The girl's cheeks were scarlet and her eyes flashed like points of
+flame. They were not black, but of the darkest blue, with strange,
+steely lights in them that flashed and sparkled when she was roused in
+temper, which was often.
+
+"I think I will be English, or else like these new colonists that are
+taking possession of everything. I like their religion. You don't have
+to go in a convent and pray continually and be shut out of all beautiful
+things!"
+
+"You are very naughty, Mam'selle. These English have spoiled so many
+people. There is but one God. And the good French fathers know what is
+right."
+
+"We did well enough before the French people came, Pani," said a soft,
+rather guttural voice from the handsome half-breed stretched out lazily
+on the other side of the tree where the western sunshine could fall on
+him.
+
+"You were not here," replied the woman, shortly. "And the French have
+been good to me. Their religion saves you from torment and teaches you
+to be brave. And it takes women to the happy grounds beyond the sky."
+
+"Ah, they learned much of their bravery from the Indian, who can suffer
+tortures without a groan or a line of pain in the face. Is there any
+better God than the great Manitou? Does he not speak in the thunder, in
+the roar of the mighty cataract, and is not his voice soft when he
+chants in the summer night wind? He gives a brave victory over his
+enemies, he makes the corn grow and fills the woods with game, the lakes
+with fish. He is good enough God for me."
+
+"Why then did he let the French take your lands?"
+
+The man rose up on his elbow.
+
+"Because we were cowards!" he cried fiercely. "Because the priests made
+us weak with their religion, made women of us, called us to their
+mumbling prayers instead of fighting our enemies! They and the English
+gave us their fire water to drink and stole away our senses! And now
+they are both going to be driven out by these pigs of Americans. It
+serves them right."
+
+"And what will _you_ do, Monsieur Marsac?" asked Pani with innocent
+irony.
+
+"Oh, I do not care for their grounds nor their fights. I shall go up
+north again for furs, and now the way is open for a wider trade and a
+man can make more money. I take thrift from my French father, you see.
+But some day my people will rise again, and this time it will not be a
+Pontiac war. We have some great chiefs left. We will not be crowded out
+of everything. You will see."
+
+Then he sprang up lithe and graceful. He was of medium size but so well
+proportioned that he might have been modeled from the old Greeks. His
+hair was black and straight but had a certain softness, and his skin was
+like fine bronze, while his features were clearly cut. Now and then some
+man of good birth had married an Indian woman by the rites of the
+Church, and this Hugh de Marsac had done. But of all their children only
+one remained, and now the elder De Marsac had a lucrative post at
+Michilimackinac, while his son went to and fro on business. Outside of
+the post in the country sections the mixed marriages were quite common,
+and the French made very good husbands.
+
+"Mam'selle Jeanne," he said with a low bow, "I admire your courage and
+taste. What one can see to adore in those stuffy old fathers puzzles me!
+As for praying in a cell, the whole wide heavens and earth that God has
+made lifts up one's soul to finer thoughts than mumbling over beads or
+worshiping a Christ on the cross. And you will be much too handsome, my
+brier rose, to shut yourself up in any Recollet house. There will be
+lovers suing for your pretty hand and your rosy lips."
+
+Jeanne hid her face on Pani's shoulder. The admiring look did not suit
+her just now though in a certain fashion this young fellow had been her
+playmate and devoted attendant.
+
+"Let us go back home," she exclaimed suddenly.
+
+"Why hurry, Mam'selle? Let us go down to King's wharf and see the boats
+come in."
+
+Her eyes lighted eagerly. She gave a hop on one foot and held out her
+hand to the woman, who rose slowly, then put the long, lean arm about
+the child's neck, who smiled up with a face of bloom to the wrinkled and
+withered one above her.
+
+Louis Marsac frowned a little. What ailed the child to-day? She was
+generally ready enough to demand his attentions.
+
+"Mam'selle, you brought your story to an abrupt termination. I thought
+you liked the accessories. The procession that marched up the aisle of
+St. Anne's, the shower of kisses bestowed upon you after possible evil
+had been exorcised by holy water; the being taken home in Madame
+Bellestre's carriage--"
+
+"If I wanted to hear it Pani could tell me. Walk behind, Louis, the path
+is narrow."
+
+"I will go ahead and clear the way," he returned with dignified sarcasm,
+suiting his pace to the action.
+
+"That is hardly polite, Monsieur."
+
+"Why yes. If there was any danger, I would be here to face it. I am the
+advance guard."
+
+"There never is any danger. And Pani is tall and strong. I am not
+afraid."
+
+"Perhaps you would rather I would not go? Though I believe you accepted
+my invitation heartily."
+
+Just then two half drunken men lurched into the path. Drunkenness was
+one of the vices of that early civilization. Marsac pushed them aside
+with such force that the nearer one toppling against the other, both
+went over.
+
+"Thank you, Monsieur; it was good to have you."
+
+Jeanne stretched herself up to her tallest and Marsac suddenly realized
+how she had grown, and that she was prettier than a year ago with some
+charm quite indescribable. If she were only a few years, older--
+
+"A man is sometimes useful," he returned dryly, glancing at her with a
+half laugh.
+
+After the English had possession of Detroit, partly from the spirit of
+the times, the push of the newcomers, and the many restrictions that
+were abolished, the Detroit river took on an aspect of business that
+amazed the inhabitants. Sailing vessels came up the river, merchantmen
+loaded with cargoes instead of the string of canoes. And here was one at
+the old King's wharf with busy hands, whites and Indians, running to and
+fro with bales and boxes, presenting a scene of activity not often
+witnessed. Others had come down to see it as well. Marsac found a little
+rise of ground occupied by some boys that he soon dispossessed and put
+the woman and child in their places, despite black looks and mutterings.
+
+What a beautiful sight it all was, Jeanne thought. Up the Strait, as the
+river was often called, to the crystal clear lake of St. Clair and the
+opposite shore of Canada, with clumps of dense woods that seemed
+guarding the place, and irregular openings that gave vistas of the far
+away prospect. What was all that great outside world like? After St.
+Clair river, Lake Huron and Michilimackinac? There were a great mission
+station and some nuns, and a large store place for the fur trade. And
+then--Hudson Bay somewhere clear to the end of the world, she thought.
+
+The men uttered a sort of caroling melody with their work. There were
+some strange faces she had never seen before, swarthy people with great
+gold hoops in their ears.
+
+"Are they Americans?" she asked, her idea of Americans being that they
+were a sort of conglomerate.
+
+"No--Spaniards, Portuguese, from the other side of the world. There are
+many strange peoples."
+
+Louis Marsac's knowledge was extremely limited, as education had not
+made much of an advance among ordinary people. But he was glad he knew
+this when he saw the look of awe that for an instant touched the rosy
+face.
+
+There were some English uniforms on the scene. For though the boundaries
+had been determined the English Commandant made various excuses, and
+demanded every point of confirmation. There had been an acrimonious
+debate on conditions and much vexatious delay, as if he was individually
+loath to surrender his authority. In fact the English, as the French had
+before them, cherished dreams of recovering the territory, which would
+be in all time to come an important center of trade. No one had dreamed
+of railroads then.
+
+The sun began to drop down behind the high hills with their
+timber-crowned tops. Pani turned.
+
+"We must go home," she said, and Jeanne made no objections. She was a
+little tired and confused with a strange sensation, as if she had
+suddenly grown, and the bounds were too small.
+
+Marsac made way for them, up the narrow, wretched street to the gateway.
+The streets were all narrow with no pretense at order. In some places
+were lanes where carriages could not pass each other. St. Louis street
+was better but irregularly built, with frame and hewn log houses. There
+was the old block house at either end, and the great, high palisades,
+and the citadel, which served for barracks' stores, and housed some of
+the troops. Here they passed St. Anne's street with its old church and
+the military garden at the upper end; houses of one and two stories with
+peaked thatched roofs, and a few of more imposing aspect. On the west of
+the citadel near St. Joseph's street they paused before a small cottage
+with a little garden at the side, which was Pani's delight. There were
+only two rooms, but it was quite fine with some of the Bellestre
+furnishings. At one end a big fireplace and a seat each side of it.
+Opposite, the sleeping chamber with one narrow bed and a high one,
+covered with Indian blankets. Beds and pillows of pine and fir needles
+were renewed often enough to keep the place curiously fragrant.
+
+"I will bid you good evening," exclaimed Marsac with a dignified bow.
+"Mam'selle, I hope you are not tired out. You look--"
+
+A saucy smile went over her face. "Do I look very strange?" pertly. "And
+I am not tired, but half starved. Good night, Monsieur."
+
+"Pani will soon remedy that."
+
+The bell was clanging out its six strokes. That was the old signal for
+the Indians and whoever lived outside the palisades to retire.
+
+He bowed again and walked up to the Fort and the Parade.
+
+"Angelot," he said to himself, knitting his brow. "Where have I heard
+the name away from Detroit? She will be a pretty girl and I must keep an
+eye on her."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+RAISING THE NEW FLAG.
+
+
+Old Detroit had seemed roomy enough when Monsieur Cadillac planted the
+lilies of France and flung out the royal standard. And the hardy men
+slept cheerfully on their beds of fir twigs with blankets drawn over
+them, and the sky for a canopy, until the stockade was built and the
+rude fort made a place of shelter. But before the women came it had been
+rendered habitable and more secure; streets were laid out, the chapel of
+St. Anne's built, and many houses put up inside the palisades. And there
+was gay, cheerful life, too, for French spirits and vivacity could not
+droop long in such exhilarating air.
+
+Canoes and row boats went up and down the river with merry crews. And in
+May there was a pole put in what was to be the military garden, and from
+it floated the white flag of France. On the green there was a great
+concourse and much merriment and dancing, and not a little love making.
+For if a soldier asked a pretty Indian maid in marriage, the Commandant
+winked at it, and she soon acquired French and danced with the gayest of
+them.
+
+Then there was a gala time when the furs came in and the sales were
+made, and the boats loaded and sent on to Montreal to be shipped across
+the sea; or the Dutch merchants came from the Mohawk valley or New
+Amsterdam to trade. The rollicking _coureurs des bois_, who came to be
+almost a race by themselves, added their jollity and often carried it
+too far, ending in fighting and arrests.
+
+But it was not all gayety. Up to this time there had been two terrible
+attacks on the fort, and many minor ones. Attempts had been made to burn
+it; sometimes the garrison almost starved in bad seasons. France, in all
+her seventy years of possession, never struck the secret of colonizing.
+The thrifty emigrant in want of a home where he could breathe a freer
+air than on his native soil was at once refused. The Jesuit rule was
+strict as to religion; the King of France would allow no laws but his
+own, and looked upon his colonies as sources of revenue if any could be
+squeezed out of them, sources of glory if not.
+
+The downfall of Canada had been a sad blow. The French colonist felt it
+more keenly than the people thousands of miles away, occupied with many
+other things. And the bitterest of all protests was made by the Jesuits
+and the Church. They had been fervent and heroic laborers, and many a
+life had been bravely sacrificed for the furtherance of the work among
+the Indians.
+
+True, there had not been a cordial sympathy between the Jesuits and the
+Recollets, but the latter had proved the greater favorites in Detroit.
+There was now the Recollet house near the church, where they were
+training young girls and teaching the catechism and the rules of the
+Church, as often orally as by book, as few could read. Here were some
+Indian girls from tribes that had been almost decimated in the savage
+wars, some of whom were bound out afterward as servants. There were
+slaves, mostly of the old Pawnee tribe, some very old, indeed; others
+had married, but their children were under the ban of their parents.
+
+With the coming of the English there was a wider liberty, a new
+atmosphere, and though the French protested bitterly and could not but
+believe the mother country would make some strenuous effort to recover
+the territory as they temporized with the Indians and held out vague
+hopes, yet, as the years passed on, they found themselves insensibly
+yielding to the sway, and compelled now and then to fight for their
+homes against a treacherous enemy. Mayor Gladwyn had been a hero to them
+in his bravery and perseverance.
+
+There came in a wealthier class of citizens to settle, and officials
+were not wanting in showy attire. Black silk breeches and hose, enormous
+shoe buckles, stiff stocks, velvet and satin coats and beaver hats were
+often seen. Ladies rejoiced in new importations, and in winter went
+decked in costly furs. Even the French damsels relaxed their plain
+attire and made pictures with their bright kerchiefs tied coquettishly
+over curling hair, and they often smiled back at the garrison soldiers
+or the troops on parade. The military gardens were improved and became
+places of resort on pleasant afternoons, and the two hundred houses
+inside the pickets increased a little, encroaching more and more on the
+narrow streets. The officers' houses were a little grander; some of the
+traders indulged in more show and their wives put on greater airs and
+finer gowns and gave parties. The Campeau house was venerable even then,
+built as it was on the site of Cadillac's headquarters and abounding in
+many strange legends, and there were rude pictures of the Canoe with
+Madame Cadillac, who had made the rough voyage with her ladies and come
+to a savage wilderness out of love for her husband; and the old, long,
+low Cass house that had sheltered so many in the Pontiac war, and the
+Governor's house on St. Anne's street, quite grand with its two stories
+and peaked roof, with the English colors always flying.
+
+Many of the houses were plastered over the rough hewn cedar lath, others
+were just of the smaller size trees split in two and the interstices
+filled in. Many were lined with birch bark, with borders of beautiful
+ash and silver birch. Chimneys were used now, great wide spaces at one
+end filled in with seats. In winter furs were hung about and often
+dropped over the windows at night, which were always closed with tight
+board shutters as soon as dusk set in, which gave the streets a gloomy
+aspect and in nowise assisted a prowling enemy. A great solid oaken
+door, divided in the middle with locks and bars that bristled with
+resistance, was at the front.
+
+But inside they were comfortable and full of cheer. Wooden benches and
+chairs, some of the former with an arm and a cushion of spruce twigs
+covered with a bear or wolf skin, though in the finer houses there were
+rush bottoms and curiously stained splints with much ornamental Indian
+work. A dresser in the living room displayed not only Queen's ware, but
+such silver and pewter as the early colonists possessed, and there were
+pictures curiously framed, ornaments of wampum and shells and fine bead
+work. The family usually gathered here, and the large table standing in
+the middle of the floor had a hospitable look heightened by the savory
+smells which at that day seemed to offend no one.
+
+The farms all lay without and stretched down the river and westward. The
+population outside had increased much faster, for there was room to
+grow. There were little settlements of French, others of half-breeds,
+and not a few Indian wigwams. The squaws loved to shelter themselves
+under the wing of the Fort and the whites. Business of all kinds had
+increased since the coming of the English.
+
+But now there had occurred another overturn. Detroit had been an
+important post during the Revolution, and though General Washington,
+Jefferson, and Clark had planned expeditions for its attack, it was, at
+the last, a bloodless capture, being included in the boundaries named in
+the Quebec Act. But the British counted on recapture, and the Indians
+were elated with false hopes until the splendid victories of General
+Wayne in northern Illinois against both Indians and English. By his
+eloquence and the announcement of the kindly intentions of the United
+States, the Chippewa nation made gifts of large tracts of land and
+relinquished all claims to Detroit and Mackinaw.
+
+The States had now two rather disaffected peoples. Many of the English
+prepared to return to Canada with the military companies. The French had
+grown accustomed to the rule and still believed in kings and state and
+various titles. But the majority of the poor scarcely cared, and would
+have grumbled at any rule.
+
+For weeks Detroit was in a ferment with the moving out. There were
+sorrowful farewells. Many a damsel missed the lover to whom she had
+pinned her faith, many an irregular marriage was abruptly terminated.
+The good Recollet fathers had tried to impress the sacredness of family
+ties upon their flock, but since the coming of the English, the liberty
+allowed every one, and the Protestant form of worship, there had grown a
+certain laxness even in the town.
+
+"It is going to be a great day!" declared Jeanne, as she sprang out of
+her little pallet. There were two beds in the room, a great, high-post
+carved bedstead of the Bellestre grandeur, and the cot Jacques Pallent,
+the carpenter, had made, which was four sawed posts, with a frame nailed
+to the top of them. It was placed in the corner, and so, out of sight,
+Pani felt that her charge was always safe. In the morning Jeanne
+generally turned a somersault that took her over to the edge of the big
+bed, from whence she slid down.
+
+The English had abolished slavery in name, but most of the Pani servants
+remained. They seldom had any other than their tribal name. Since the
+departure of the Bellestres Jeanne's guardian had taken on a new
+dignity. She was a tall, grave woman, and much respected by all. No one
+would have thought of interfering with her authority over the child.
+
+"Hear the cannon at the Fort and the bells. And everybody will be out!
+Pani, give me some breakfast and let me go."
+
+"Nay, nay, child. You cannot go alone in such a crowd as this will be.
+And I must set the house straight."
+
+"But Marie De Ber and Pierre are to go. We planned it last night. Pierre
+is a big, strong boy, and he can pick his way through a crowd with his
+elbows. His mother says he always punches holes through his sleeves."
+
+Jeanne laughed gayly. Pierre was a big, raw-boned fellow, a good guard
+anywhere.
+
+"Nay, child, I shall go, too. It will not be long. And here is a choice
+bit of bread browned over the coals that you like so much, and the corn
+mush of last night fried to a turn."
+
+"Let me run and see Marie a moment--"
+
+"With that head looking as if thou hadst tumbled among the burrs, or
+some hen had scratched it up for a nest! And eyes full of dew webs that
+are spun in the grass by the spirits of night."
+
+"Look, they are wide open!" She buried her face in a pail of water and
+splashed it around as a huge bird might, as she raised her beautiful
+laughing orbs, blue now as the midnight sky. And then she carelessly
+combed the tangled curls that fell about her like the spray of a
+waterfall.
+
+"Thou must have a coif like other French girls, Jeanne. Berthê Campeau
+puts up her hair."
+
+"Berthê goes to the Recollets and prays and counts beads, and will run
+no more or shout, and sings only dreary things that take the life and
+gayety out of you. She will go to Montreal, where her aunt is in a
+convent, and her mother cries about it. If I had a mother I would not
+want to make her cry. Pani, what do you suppose happened to my mother?
+Sometimes I think I can remember her a little."
+
+The face so gay and willful a moment before was suddenly touched with a
+sweet and tender gravity.
+
+"She is dead this long time, _petite_. Children may leave their mothers,
+but mothers never give up their children unless they are taken from
+them."
+
+"Pani, what if the Indian woman had stolen me?"
+
+"But she said you had no mother. Come, little one, and eat your
+breakfast."
+
+Jeanne was such a creature of moods and changes that she forgot her
+errand to Marie. She clasped her hands together and murmured her French
+blessing in a soft, reverent tone.
+
+Maize was a staple production in the new world, when the fields were not
+destroyed by marauding parties. There were windmills that ground it
+coarsely and both cakes and porridge were made of it. The Indian women
+cracked and pounded it in a stone mortar and boiled it with fish or
+venison. The French brought in many new ways of cooking.
+
+"Oh, hear the bells and the music from the Fort! Come, hurry, Pani, if
+you are going with us. Pani, are people slow when they get old?"
+
+"Much slower, little one."
+
+"Then I don't want to be old. I want to run and jump and climb and swim.
+Marie knits, she has so many brothers and sisters. But I like leggings
+better in the winter. And they sew at the Recollet house."
+
+"And thou must learn to sew, little one."
+
+"Wait until I am big and old and have to sit in the chimney corner.
+There are no little ones--sometimes I am glad, sometimes sorry, but if
+they are not here one does not have to work for them."
+
+She gave a bright laugh and was off like a flash. The Pani woman sighed.
+She wondered sometimes whether it would not have been better to give her
+up to the good father who took such an interest in her. But she was all
+the poor woman had to love. True she could be a servant in the house,
+but to have her wild, free darling bound down to rigid rules and made
+unhappy was more than she could stand. And had not Mr. Bellestre
+provided this home for them?
+
+The woman had hardly put away the dishes, which were almost as much of
+an idol to her as the child, when Jeanne came flying back.
+
+"Yes, hurry, hurry, Pani! They are all ready. And Madame De Ber said
+Marie should not go out on such a day unless you went too. She called me
+feather headed! As if I were an Indian chief with a great crown of
+feathers!"
+
+The child laughed gayly. It was as natural to her as singing to a bird.
+
+Pani gathered up a few last things and looked to see that the fire was
+put out.
+
+Already the streets were being crowded and presented a picturesque
+aspect. Inside the stockade the _chemin du ronde_ extended nearly around
+the town and this had been widened by the necessity of military
+operations. Soldiers were pouring out of the Citadel and the Fort but
+the colonial costume looked queer to eyes accustomed to the white
+trimmings of the French and the red of the British. The latter had made
+a grander show many a time, both in numbers and attire. There were the
+old French habitans, gay under every new dispensation, in tanned
+leathern small clothes, made mostly of deer skin, and blue blouses, blue
+cap, with a red feather, some disporting themselves in unwonted finery
+kept for holiday occasions; pretty laughing demoiselles with bright
+kerchiefs or a scarf of open, knitted lace-like stuff with beads that
+sparkled with every coquettish turn of the head; there were Indians with
+belted tomahawks and much ornamented garments, gorgets and collars of
+rudely beaten copper or silver if they could afford to barter furs for
+them, half-breed dandies who were gorgeous in scarlet and jewelry of all
+sorts, squaws wrapped in blankets, looking on wonderingly, and the new
+possessors of Detroit who were at home everywhere.
+
+The procession formed at the parade in front of the Fort. Some of the
+aristocracy of the place were out also, staid middle-aged men with
+powdered queues and velvet coats, elegant ladies in crimson silk
+petticoats and skirts drawn back, the train fastened up with a ribbon
+or chain which they carried on their arms as they minced along on their
+high heeled slippers, carrying enormous fans that were parasols as well,
+and wearing an immense bonnet, the fashion in France a dozen years
+before.
+
+"What is it all about?" asked one and another.
+
+"They are to put up a new flag."
+
+"For how long?" in derision. "The British will be back again in no
+time."
+
+"Are there any more conquerors to come? We turn our coats at every one's
+bidding it seems."
+
+The detachment was from General Wayne's command and great was the
+disappointment that the hero himself was not on hand to celebrate the
+occasion; but he had given orders that possession of the place should be
+signalized without him. Indeed, he did not reach Detroit until a month
+later.
+
+On July 11, 1796, the American flag was raised above Detroit, and many
+who had never seen it gazed stupidly at it, as its red and white stripes
+waved on the summer air, and its blue field and white stars shone
+proudly from the flag staff, blown about triumphantly on the radiant air
+shimmering with golden sunshine.
+
+Shouts went up like volleys. All the Michigan settlements were now a
+part of the United Colonies, that had so bravely won their freedom and
+were extending their borders over the cherished possessions of France
+and England.
+
+The post was formally delivered up to the governor of the territory.
+Another flag was raised on the Citadel, which was for the accommodation
+of the general and his suite at present and whoever was commandant. It
+was quite spacious, with an esplanade in front, now filled by soldiers.
+There were the almost deafening salutes and the blare of the band.
+
+"Why it looks like heaven at night!" cried Jeanne rapturously. "I shall
+be an American,--I like the stars better than the lilies of France, and
+the red cross is hateful. For stars _are_ of heaven, you know, you
+cannot make them grow on earth."
+
+A kindly, smiling, elderly man turned and caught sight of the eager,
+rosy face.
+
+"And which, I wonder, is the brave General Wayne?"
+
+"He is not here to-day unfortunately and cannot taste the sweets of his
+many victories. But he is well worth seeing, and quite as sorry not to
+be here as you are to miss him. But he is coming presently."
+
+"Then it is not the man who is making a speech?--and see what a
+beautiful horse he has!"
+
+"That is the governor, Major General St. Clair."
+
+"And General Wayne, is he an American?"
+
+The man gave an encouraging smile to the child's eager inquiry.
+
+"An American? yes. But look you, child. The only proper Americans would
+be the Indians."
+
+She frowned and looked puzzled.
+
+"A little way back we came from England and France and Holland and Spain
+and Italy. We are so diverse that it is a wonder we can be harmonized.
+Only there seems something in this grand air, these mighty forests,
+these immense lakes and rivers, that nurtures liberty and independence
+and breadth of thought and action. Who would have dreamed that clashing
+interests could have been united in that one aim, liberty, and that it
+could spread itself from the little nucleus, north, south, east, and
+west! The young generation will see a great country. And I suppose we
+will always be Americans."
+
+He turned to the young man beside him, who seemed amused at the
+enthusiasm that rang in his voice and shone in his eyes of light, clear
+blue as he had smiled down on the child who scarcely understood, but
+took in the general trend and was moved by the warmth and glow.
+
+"Monsieur, there are many countries beside England and France," she said
+thoughtfully.
+
+"O yes, a world full of them. Countries on the other side of the globe
+of which we know very little."
+
+"The other side?" Her eyes opened wide in surprise, and a little crease
+deepened in the sunny brow as she flung the curls aside. She wore no hat
+of any kind in summer.
+
+"Yes, it is a round world with seas and oceans and land on both sides.
+And it keeps going round."
+
+"But, Monsieur," as he made a motion with his hand to describe it, "why
+does not the water spill out and the ground slide off? What makes
+it--oh, how can it stick?" with a laugh of incredulity.
+
+"Because a wisdom greater than all of earth rules it. Are there no
+schools in Detroit?"
+
+"The English have some and there is the Recollet house and the sisters.
+But they make you sit still, and presently you go to Montreal or Quebec
+and are a nun, and wear a long, black gown, and have your head tied up.
+Why, I should smother and I could not hear! That is so you cannot hear
+wicked talk and the drunken songs, but I love the birds and the wind
+blowing and the trees rustling and the river rushing and beating up in a
+foam. And I am not afraid of the Indians nor the _shil loups_," but she
+lowered her tone a trifle.
+
+"Do not put too much trust in the Indians, Mam'selle. And there is the
+_loup garou_--"
+
+"But I have seen real wolves, Monsieur, and when they bring in the furs
+there are so many beautiful ones. Madame De Ber says there is no such
+thing as a _loup garou_, that a person cannot be a man and a wolf at the
+same time. When the wolves and the panthers and the bears howl at night
+one's blood runs chilly. But we are safe in the stockade."
+
+"There is much for thee to learn, little one," he said, after a pause.
+"There must be schools in the new country so that all shall not grow up
+in ignorance. Where is thy father?"
+
+Jeanne Angelot stared straight before her seeing nothing. Her father?
+The De Bers had a father, many children had, she remembered. And her
+mother was dead.
+
+The address ended and there was a thundering roll of drums, while
+cheers went up here and there. Cautious French habitans and traders
+thought it wiser to wait and see how long this standard of stripes and
+stars would wave over them. They were used to battles and conquering and
+defeated armies, and this peace they could hardly understand. The
+English were rather sullen over it. Was this stripling of newfound
+liberty to possess the very earth?
+
+The crowd surged about. Pani caught the arm of her young charge and drew
+her aside. She was alarmed at the steady scrutiny the young man had
+given her, though it was chiefly as to some strange specimen.
+
+"Thou art overbold, Jeanne, smiling up in a young man's face and
+puckering thy brows like some maid coquetting for a lover."
+
+"A young man!" Jeanne laughed heartily. "Why he had a snowy beard like a
+white bear in winter. Where were your eyes, Pani? And he told me such
+curious things. Is the world round, Pani? And there are lands and lands
+and strange people--"
+
+"It is a brave show," exclaimed Louis Marsac joining them. "I wonder how
+long it will last. There are to be some new treaties I hear about the
+fur trade. That man from the town called New York, a German or some such
+thing, gets more power every month. A messenger came this morning and I
+am to return to my father at once. Jeanne, I wish thou and Pani wert
+going to the upper lakes with me. If thou wert older--"
+
+She turned away suddenly. Marie De Ber had a group of older girls about
+her and she plunged into them, as if she might be spirited away.
+
+Monsieur St. Armand had looked after his little friend but missed her in
+the crowd, and a shade of disappointment deepened his blue eyes.
+
+"_Mon père_," began the young man beside him, "evidently thou wert born
+for a missionary to the young. I dare say you discovered untold
+possibilities in that saucy child who knows well how to flirt her curls
+and arch her eyebrows. She amused me. Was that half-breed her brother, I
+wonder!"
+
+"She was not a half-breed, Laurent. There are curious things in this
+world, and something about her suggested--or puzzled. She has no Indian
+eyes, but the rarest dark blue I ever saw. And did Indian blood ever
+break out in curly hair?"
+
+"I only noticed her swarthy skin. And there is such a mixed-up crew in
+this town! Come, the grand show is about over and now we are all reborn
+Americans up to the shores of Lake Superior. But we will presently be
+due at the Montdesert House. Are we to have no more titles and French
+nobility be on a level with the plainest, just Sieur and Madame?" with a
+little curl of the lips. The elder smiled good naturedly, nay, even
+indulgently.
+
+"The demoiselles are more to thee than that splendid flag waving over a
+free country. Thou canst return--"
+
+"But the dinner?"
+
+"Ah, yes, then we will go together," he assented.
+
+"If we can pick our way through this crowd. What beggarly narrow
+streets. Faugh! One can hardly get his breath. Our wilds are to be
+preferred."
+
+By much turning in and out they reached the upper end of St. Louis
+street, which at that period was quite an elevation and overlooked the
+river.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+ON THE RIVER.
+
+
+The remainder of the day was devoted to gayety, and with the male
+population carousing in too many instances, though there were
+restrictions against selling intoxicants to the Indians inside the
+stockade. The Frenchman drank a little and slowly, and was merry and
+vivacious. Groups up on the Parade were dancing to the inspiriting
+music, or in another corner two or three fiddles played the merriest of
+tunes.
+
+Outside, and the larger part of the town was outside now, the farms
+stretched back with rude little houses not much more than cabins. There
+was not much call for solidity when a marauding band of Indians might
+put a torch to your house and lay it in ashes. But with the new peace
+was coming a greater feeling of security.
+
+There were little booths here and there where squaws were cooking
+sagamite and selling it in queer dishes made of gourds. There were the
+little maize cakes well-browned, piles of maple sugar and wild summer
+plums just ripening. The De Ber children, with Jeanne and Pani, took
+their dinner here and there out of doors with much merriment. It was
+here Marsac joined them again, his hands full of fruit, which he gave to
+the children.
+
+"Come over to the Strait," he exclaimed. "That is a sight worth seeing.
+Everything is out."
+
+"O yes," cried Jeanne, eagerly. "And, Louis, can you not get a boat or a
+canoe? Let us go out on the water. I'm tired of the heat and dust."
+
+They threaded their way up to Merchants' wharf, for at King's wharf the
+crowd was great. At the dock yard, where, under the English, some fine
+vessels had been built, a few were flying pennons of red and white, and
+some British ships that had not yet left flaunted their own colors. As
+for the river, that was simply alive with boats of every description;
+Indian rowers and canoers, with loads of happy people singing, shouting,
+laughing, or lovers, with heads close together, whispering soft
+endearments or promising betrothal.
+
+"Stay here while I see if I can get a boat," said Louis, darting off,
+disappearing in the crowd.
+
+They had been joined by another neighbor, Madame Ganeau and her daughter
+Delisse, and her daughter's lover, a gay young fellow.
+
+"He will have hard work," declared Jacques. "I tried. Not a canoe or a
+pirogue or a flat boat. I wish him the joy of success."
+
+"Then we will have to paddle ourselves," said Jeanne. "Or float, Marie.
+I can float beautifully when the tide is serene."
+
+"I would not dare it for a hundred golden louis d'or," interposed
+Delisse.
+
+"But Jeanne dares everything. Do you remember when she climbed the
+palisade? When one has a lover--" and Marie sighed a little.
+
+"One comes to her senses and is no longer a child," said Madame Ganeau
+with a touch of sharpness in her voice. "The saints alone know what will
+become of that wild thing. Marie, since your mother is so busy with her
+household, some one should look you up a lover. Thou art most fourteen
+if I remember rightly."
+
+"Yes, Madame."
+
+"Well, there is time to be sure. Delisse will be fifteen on her wedding
+day. That is plenty old enough. For you see the girl bows to her
+husband, which is as it should be. A girl well brought up should have no
+temper nor ways of her own and then she more easily drops into those of
+her husband, who is the head of the house."
+
+"I have a temper!" laughed Jeanne. "And I do not want any husband to
+rule over me as if I were a squaw."
+
+"He will rule thee in the end. And if thou triest him too far he may
+beat thee."
+
+"If he struck me I should--I should kill him," and Jeanne's eyes flashed
+fire.
+
+"Thou wilt have more sense, then. And if lovers are shy of thee thou
+wilt begin to long for them when thou art like a dried up autumn rose on
+its stem."
+
+Jeanne bridled and flung up her chin.
+
+Pierre took her soft hand in his rough one.
+
+"Do not mind," he said in a whisper; "I would never beat you even if you
+did not have dinner ready. And I will bring you lovely furs and whatever
+you want. My father is willing to send me up in the fur country next
+year."
+
+Jeanne laughed, then turned to sudden gravity and gave back the pressure
+of the hand in repentance.
+
+"You are so good to me, Pierre. But I do not want to marry in a long,
+long time, until I get tired of other things. And I want plenty of them
+and fun and liberty."
+
+"Yes, yes, you are full of fun," approvingly.
+
+Louis was coming up to them in a fine canoe and some Indian rowers. He
+waved his hand.
+
+"Good luck, you see! Step in. Now for a glorious sail. Is it up or
+down?"
+
+"Down," cried Jeanne hopping around on one foot, and still hanging to
+Pani.
+
+They were soon settled within. The river was like a stream of golden
+fire, each ripple with a kind of phosphorescent gleam as the foam
+slipped away. For the oars were beating it up in every direction. The
+air was tensely clear. There was Lake St. Clair spread out in the
+distance, touching a sky of golden blue, if such colors fuse. And the
+opposite shore with its wealth of trees and shrubs and beginnings of
+Sandwich and Windsor and Fort Malden; Au Cochon and Fighting island,
+Grosse island in the far distance, and Bois Blanc.
+
+"Sing," said the lover when they had gone down a little ways, for most
+of the crafts were given over to melody and laughter.
+
+He had a fine voice. Singing was the great delight of those days, and
+nothing was more beguiling than the songs of the voyageurs. Delisse
+joined and Marie's soft voice was like a lapping wave. Madame Ganeau
+talked low to Pani about the child.
+
+"It will not do for her to run wild much longer," she said with an air
+of authority. "She is growing so fast. Is there no one? Had not Father
+Rameau better write to M. Bellestre and see what his wishes are? And
+there is the Recollet house, though girls do not get much training for
+wives. Prayers and beads and penance are all well enough, some deserve
+them, but I take it girls were meant for wives, and those who can get no
+husbands or have lost them may be Saint Catherine's maids."
+
+"Yes," answered Pani with a quaking heart; "M. Bellestre would know."
+
+"A thousand pities Madame should die. But I think there is wild blood in
+the child. You should have kept the Indian woman and made her tell her
+story."
+
+"She disappeared so quickly, and Madame Bellestre was so good and kind.
+The orphan of _Le bon Dieu_, she called her. Yes, I will see the good
+father."
+
+"And I will have a talk with him when Delisse goes to confession."
+Madame Ganeau gave a soft, relieved sigh. "My duty is done, almost, to
+my children. They will be well married, which is a great comfort to a
+mother. And now I can devote myself to my grandchildren. Antoine has two
+fine boys and Jeanne a little daughter. It is a pleasant time of life
+with a woman. And Jean is prospering. We need not worry about our old
+age unless these Americans overturn everything."
+
+Pani was a good listener and Madame Ganeau loved to talk when there was
+no one to advance startling ideas or contradict her. Her life had been
+prosperous and she took the credit to herself. Jean Ganeau had been a
+good husband, tolerably sober, too, and thrifty.
+
+The two older girls chatted when they were not singing. It was seldom
+Marie had a holiday, and this was full of delight. Would she ever have a
+lover like Jacques Graumont, who would look at her with such adoring
+eyes and slyly snatch her hand when her mother was not looking?
+
+Jeanne was full of enjoyment and capers. Every bird that flashed in and
+out of the trees, the swans and wild geese that squawked in terror and
+scuttled into little nooks along the shore edge as the boats passed
+them, the fish leaping up now and then, brought forth exclamations of
+delight. She found a stick with which she beat up the water and once
+leaned out so far that Louis caught her by the arm and pulled her back.
+
+"Let go. You hurt me!" she exclaimed sharply.
+
+"You will be over."
+
+"As if I could not care for myself."
+
+"You are the spirit of the river. Are your mates down there? What if
+they summon you?"
+
+"Then why should I not go to them?" recklessly.
+
+"Because I will not let you."
+
+He looked steadily into her eyes. His were a little blurred and had an
+expression that did not please her. She turned away.
+
+"If I should go down and get the gold hidden under the sands--"
+
+"But a serpent guards it."
+
+"I am not afraid of a snake. I have killed more than one. And there are
+good spirits who will help you if you have the right charm."
+
+"But you do not need to go. Some one will work for you. Some one will
+get the gold and treasure. If you will wait--"
+
+"Well, I do not want the treasure. Pani and I have enough."
+
+She tossed her head, still looking away.
+
+"Do you know that I must go up to Micmac? I thought to stay all summer,
+but my father has sent."
+
+"And men have to obey their fathers as girls do their mothers;" in an
+idly indifferent tone.
+
+"It is best, Jeanne; I want to make a fortune."
+
+"I hope you will;" but there was a curl to her lip.
+
+"And I may come back next spring with the furs."
+
+She nodded indifferently.
+
+"My father has another secret, which may be worth a good deal."
+
+She made no answer but beat up the water again. There was nothing but
+pleasure in her mind.
+
+"Will you be glad to see me then? Will you miss me?"
+
+"Why--of course. But I think I do not like you as well as I used," she
+cried frankly.
+
+"Not like me as well?" He was amazed. "Why, Jeanne?"
+
+"You have grown so--so--" neither her thoughts nor her vocabulary were
+very extensive. "I do not think I like men until they are quite old and
+have beautiful white beards and voices that are like the water when it
+flows softly. Or the boys who can run and climb trees with you and laugh
+over everything. Men want so much--what shall I say?" puzzled to express
+herself.
+
+"Concession. Agreement," he subjoined; "that is right," with a decisive
+nod. "I hate it," with a vicious swish in the water.
+
+"But when your way is wrong--"
+
+"My way is for myself," with dignity.
+
+"But if you have a lover, Jeanne?"
+
+"I shall never have one. Madame Ganeau says so. I am going to keep a
+wild little girl with no one but Pani until--until I am a very old woman
+and get aches and pains and perhaps die of a fever."
+
+She was in a very willful mood and she was only a child. One or two
+years would make a difference. If his father made a great fortune, and
+after all no one knew where she came from--he could marry in very good
+families, girls in plenty had smiled on him during the past two months.
+
+Was it watching these lovers that had stirred his blood? Why should he
+care for this child?
+
+"Had we not better turn about?" said Jacques Graumont, glancing around.
+
+There were purple shadows on one side of the river and high up on the
+distant hills and a soft yellow pink sheen on the water instead of the
+blaze of gold. A clear, high atmosphere that outlined everything on the
+Canadian shore as if it half derided its proud neighbor's jubilee.
+
+Other boats were returning. Songs that were so gay an hour ago took on a
+certain pensiveness, akin to the purple and dun stealing over the river.
+It moved Jeanne Angelot strangely; it gave her a sense of exaltation, as
+if she could fly like a bird to some strange country where a mother
+loved her and was waiting for her.
+
+When Louis Marsac spoke next to her she could have struck him in
+childish wrath. She wanted no one but the fragrant loneliness and the
+voices of nature.
+
+"Don't talk to me!" she cried impatiently. "I want to think. I like what
+is in my own mind better."
+
+Then the anger went slowly out of her face and it settled in lovely
+lines. Her mouth was a scarlet blossom, and her hair clung mistlike
+about brow and throat, softened by the warmth.
+
+They came grating against the dock after having waited for their turn.
+Marsac caught her arm and let the others go before her, and she, still
+in a half dream, waited. Then he put his arm about her, turned her one
+side, and pressed a long, hot kiss on her lips. His breath was still
+tainted with the brandy he had been drinking earlier in the day.
+
+She was utterly amazed at the first moment. Then she doubled up her
+small hand and struck the mouth that had so profaned her.
+
+"Hah! knave," cried a voice beside her. "Let the child alone! And answer
+to me. What business had you with this canoe? Child, where are your
+friends?"
+
+"My business with it was that I hired and paid for it," cried Marsac,
+angrily, and the next instant he felt for his knife.
+
+"Paid for it?" repeated the other. "Then come and convict a man of
+falsehood. Put up your knife. Let us have fair play. I had hired the
+canoe in the morning and went up the river, and was to have it this
+afternoon, and he declared you took it without leave or license."
+
+"That is a lie!" declared Marsac, passionately.
+
+"Jeanne! Jeanne!" cried Pani in distress.
+
+The stranger lifted her out. Jeanne looked back at Marsac, and then at
+the young man.
+
+"You will not fight him?" she said to the stranger. Fights and brawls
+were no uncommon events.
+
+"We shall have nothing to fight about if the man has lied to us both.
+But I wouldn't care to be in _his_ skin. Come along, my man."
+
+"I am not your man," said Marsac, furiously angry.
+
+"Well--stranger, then. One can hardly say friend," in a dignified
+fashion that checked Marsac.
+
+Pani caught the child. Pierre was on the other side of her. "What was
+it?" he asked. How good his stolid, rugged face looked!
+
+"A quarrel about the boat. Run and see how they settle it, Pierre."
+
+"But you and Marie--and it is getting dark."
+
+"Run, run! We are not afraid." She stamped her foot and Pierre obeyed.
+
+Marie clung to her. People jostled them, but they made their way through
+the narrow, crowded street. The bells were ringing, more from long habit
+now. Soldiers in uniform were everywhere, some as guards, caring for the
+noisier ones. Madame De Ber was leaning over her half door, and gave a
+cry of joy.
+
+"Where hast thou been all day, and where is Pierre, my son?" she
+demanded.
+
+The three tried to explain at once. They had had a lovely day, and
+Madame Ganeau, with her daughter and promised son-in-law, were along in
+the sail down the river. And Pierre had gone to see the result of a
+dispute--
+
+"I sent him," cried Jeanne, frankly. "Oh, here he comes," as Pierre ran
+up breathless.
+
+"O my son, thou art safe--"
+
+"It was no quarrel of mine," said Pierre, "and if it had been I have two
+good fists and a foot that can kick. It was that Jogue who hired his
+boat twice over and pretended to forget. But he gave back the money. He
+had told a lie, however, for he said Marsac took the canoe without his
+knowledge, and then he declared he had been so mixed up--I think he was
+half drunk--that he could not remember. They were going to hand him over
+to the guard, but he begged so piteously they let him off. Then he and
+Louis Marsac took another drink."
+
+Jeanne suddenly snatched up her skirt and scrubbed her mouth vigorously.
+
+"It has been a tiresome day," exclaimed Pani, "and thou must have a
+mouthful of supper, little one, and go to bed."
+
+She put her arm over the child's shoulder, with a caress; and Jeanne
+pressed her rosy cheek on the hand.
+
+"I do not want any supper but I will go to bed at once," she replied in
+a weary tone.
+
+"It is said that at the eastward in the Colonies they keep just such a
+July day with flags and confusion and cannon firing and bells ringing.
+One such day in a lifetime is enough for me," declared Madame De Ber.
+
+They kept the Fourth of July ever afterward, but this was really their
+national birthday.
+
+Jeanne scrubbed her mouth again before she said her little prayer and in
+five minutes she was soundly asleep. But the man who had kissed her and
+who had been her childhood's friend staggered homeward after a
+roistering evening, never losing sight of the blow she had struck him.
+
+"The tiger cat!" he said with what force he could summon. "She shall pay
+for this, if it is ten years! In three or four years I will marry her
+and then I will train her to know who is master. She shall get down on
+her knees to me if she is handsome as a princess, if she were a queen's
+daughter."
+
+Laurent St. Armand went home to his father a good deal amused after all
+his disappointment and vexation, for he had been compelled to take an
+inferior canoe.
+
+"_Mon père_," he said, as his father sat contentedly smoking, stretched
+out in a most comfortable fashion, "I have seen your little gossip of
+the morning, and I came near being in a quarrel with a son of the trader
+De Marsac, but we settled it amicably and I should have had a much
+better opinion of him, if he had not stopped to drink Jogue's vile
+brandy. He's a handsome fellow, too."
+
+"And is the little girl his sister?"
+
+"O no, not in anyway related." Then Laurent told the story, guessing at
+the kiss from the blow that had followed.
+
+"Good, I like that," declared St. Armand. "Whose child is it?"
+
+"That I do not know, but she lives up near the Citadel and her name is
+Jeanne Angelot. Shall I find her for you to-morrow?"
+
+"She is a brave little girl."
+
+"I do not like Marsac."
+
+"His mother was an Indian, the daughter of some chief, I believe. De
+Marsac is a shrewd fellow. He has great faith in the copper mines.
+Strange how much wealth lies hidden in the earth! But the quarrel?" with
+a gesture of interest.
+
+"Oh, it was nothing serious and came about Jogue's lying. I rated him
+well for it, but he had been drinking and there was not much
+satisfaction. Well, it has been a grand day and now we shall see who
+next rules the key to the Northwest. There is great agitation about the
+Mississippi river and the gulf at the South. It is a daring country,
+_mon père_."
+
+The elder laughed with a softened approval.
+
+Louis Marsac did not come near St. Joseph street the next day. He slept
+till noon, when he woke with a humiliating sense of having quite lost
+his balance, for he seldom gave way to excesses. It was late in the
+afternoon when he visited the old haunts and threw himself under
+Jeanne's oak. Was she very angry? Pouf! a child's anger. What a sweet
+mouth she had! And she was none the worse for her spirit. But she was a
+tempestuous little thing when you ran counter to her ideas, or whims,
+rather.
+
+Since she had neither birth nor wealth, and was a mere child, there
+would be no lovers for several years, he could rest content with that
+assurance. And if he wanted her then--he gave an indifferent nod.
+
+Down at the Merchants' wharf, the following morning, he found the boats
+were to sail at once. He must make his adieus to several friends. Madame
+Ganeau must be congratulated on so fine a son-in-law, the De Bers must
+have an opportunity to wish him _bon voyage_.
+
+Pani sat out on the cedar plank that made the door-sill, and she was
+cutting deerskin fringe for next winter's leggings. "Jeanne," she
+called, "Louis has come to say good-by."
+
+Jeanne Angelot came out of the far room with a curious hesitation. Pani
+had been much worried for fear she was ill, but Jeanne said laughingly
+that she was only tired.
+
+"Why, you run all day like a deer and never complain," was the troubled
+comment.
+
+"Am I complaining, Pani?"
+
+"No, Mam'selle. But I never knew you to want to lie on the cot in the
+daytime."
+
+"But I often lie out under the oak with my head in your lap."
+
+"To be sure."
+
+"I'm not always running or climbing."
+
+"No, little one;" with smiling assent.
+
+The little one came forward now and leaned against Pani's shoulder.
+
+"When I shall come back I do not know--in a year or two. I wonder if you
+will learn to talk English? We shall all have to be good Americans. And
+now you must wish me _bon voyage_. What shall I bring you when I come?
+Beaver or otter, or white fox--"
+
+"Madame Reamaur hath a cape of beautiful silver fox, and when the wind
+blows through it there are curious dazzles on every tip."
+
+"Surely thou hast grand ideas, Jeanne Angelot."
+
+"I should not wear such a thing. I am only a little girl, and that is
+for great ladies. And Wenonah is making me a beautiful cape of feathers
+and quills, and the breast of wild ducks. She thinks Pani cured her
+little baby, and this is her offering. So I hardly want anything. But I
+wish thee good luck and prosperity, and a wife who will be meek and
+obedient, and study your pleasure in everything."
+
+"Thank you a thousand times." He held out his hand. Pani pressed it
+cordially, but Jeanne did not touch it.
+
+"The little termagant!" he said to himself. "She has not forgiven me.
+But girls forget. And in a year or two she will be longing for finery.
+Silver fox, forsooth! That would be a costly gift. Where does the child
+get her ideas? Not from her neighborhood nor the Indian women she
+consorts with. Nor even Madame Ganeau," with an abrupt laugh.
+
+Jeanne was rather quiet all that day and did not go outside the
+palisade. But afterward she was her own irrepressible self. She climbed
+the highest trees, she swung from one limb to another, she rode astride
+saplings, she could manage a canoe and swim like a fish, and was the
+admiration of the children in her vicinity, though all of the
+southwestern end of the settlement knew her. She could whistle a bird to
+her and chatter with the squirrels, who looked out of beady eyes as if
+amazed and delighted that a human being belonging to the race of the
+destroyer understood their language. She had beaten Jacques Filion for
+robbing birds' nests, and she was a whole year younger, if anyone really
+knew how old she was.
+
+"There will never be a brave good enough for you," said the woman
+Wenonah, who lived in a sort of wigwam outside the palisades and had
+learned many things from her white sisters that had rather unsettled her
+Indian faith in braves. She kept her house and little garden, made bead
+work and embroidery for the officers and official ladles, and cared for
+her little papooses with unwonted mother love. For Paspah spent most of
+his time stretched in the sunshine smoking his pipe, and often sold his
+game for a drink of rum. Several times he had been induced to go up
+north with the fur hunters, and Wenonah was happy and cheerful without
+him.
+
+"I do not want a brave," Jeanne would fling out laughingly. "I shall be
+brave enough for myself."
+
+"And thou art sensible, Red Rose!" nodding sagely. "There is no father
+to bargain thee away."
+
+"Well, if fathers do that, then I am satisfied to be without one,"
+returned the child gayly.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+JEANNE'S HERO.
+
+
+There were many changes to make in the new government. Under the English
+there had been considerable emigration of better class people and more
+personal liberty. It was no longer everything for a king whose rigorous
+command was that there should be no thought of self-government, that
+every plan and edict must come from a court thousands of miles away,
+that knew nothing of the country.
+
+The French peasants scattered around the posts still adored their
+priests, but they had grown more ambitious and thrifty. Amiable, merry,
+and contented they endured their privations cheerfully, built bark and
+log cottages, many of them surrounded by sharpened palisades. There were
+Indian wigwams as well, and the two nations affiliated quite readily.
+The French were largely agriculturists, though many inside the Fort
+traded carefully, but the English claimed much of this business
+afterward.
+
+Captain Porter was very busy restoring order. Wells had been filled with
+stones, windows broken, fortifications destroyed. Arthur St. Clair had
+been appointed Governor of the Territory, which was then a part of
+Illinois, but the headquarters were at Marietta. Little attention was
+paid to Detroit further than to recognize it as a center of trade, while
+emigrants were pouring into the promising sites a little farther below.
+
+M. St. Armand had much business on hand with the new government, and was
+a most welcome guest in the better class families. The pretty
+demoiselles made much of Laurent and there were dinners and dances and
+card playing and sails on the river during the magnificent moonlight
+nights. The young American officers were glad of a little rest from the
+rude alarms of war that had been theirs so long, although they relaxed
+no vigilance. The Indians were hardly to be trusted in spite of their
+protestations, their pipes of peace, and exchange of wampum.
+
+The vessel was coming gayly up the river flying the new flag. There was
+always a host of idle people and children about the wharf, and now they
+thronged to see this General Anthony Wayne, who had not only been
+victorious in battles, but had convinced Joseph Brant, Little Turtle,
+and Blue Jacket that they were mistaken in their hopes of a British
+re-conquest, and had gained by honorable treaty much of the country that
+had been claimed by the Indians. Each month the feeling was growing
+stronger that the United States was to be a positive and enduring power.
+
+General Wayne stepped from the boat to the pier amid cheers, waving of
+flags and handkerchiefs. The soldiers were formed in line to escort him.
+He looked tired and worn, but there was a certain spirit in his fine,
+courageous eyes that answered the glances showered upon him, although
+his cordial words could only reach the immediate circle.
+
+Jeanne caught a glimpse of him and stood wondering. Her ideas of heroes
+were vague and limited. She had seen the English dignitaries in their
+scarlet and gold lace, their swords and trappings, and this man looked
+plain beside them. Yet he or some power behind him had turned the
+British soldiers out of Detroit. What curious kind of strength was it
+that made men heroes? Something stirred within Jeanne that had never
+been there before,--it seemed to rise in her throat and almost strangle
+her, to heat her brain, and make her heart throb; her first sense of
+admiration for the finer power that was not brute strength,--and she
+could not understand it. No one about her could explain mental growth.
+
+Then another feeling of gladness rushed over her that made every pulse
+bound with delight.
+
+"O Pani," and she clutched the woman's coarse gown, "there is the man
+who talked to me the day they put up the flag--don't you remember? And
+see--he smiles, yes, he nods to me, to me!"
+
+She caught Pani's hand and gave it an exultant beat as if it had been a
+drum. It was near enough like parchment that had been beaten with many a
+drumstick. She was used to the child's vehemence.
+
+"I wish he were this great general! Pani, did you ever see a king?"
+
+"I have seen great chiefs in grand array. I saw Pontiac--"
+
+"Pouf!" with a gesture that made her seem taller. "Madame Ganeau's
+mother saw a king once--Louis somebody--and he sat in a great chariot
+and bowed to people, and was magnificent. That is such a grand word.
+And it is the way this man looks. Suppose a king came and spoke to
+you--why, you would be glad all your life."
+
+Pani's age and her phlegmatic Indian blood precluded much enthusiasm,
+but she smiled down in the eager face.
+
+The escort was moving on. The streets were too narrow to have any great
+throng of carriages, but General Wayne stepped into one. (The hospitable
+De Moirel House had been placed at his service until he could settle
+himself to his liking.) Madame Moirel and her two daughters, with
+Laurent St. Armand, were in the one that followed. Some of the officers
+and the chief citizens were on horseback.
+
+Then the crowd began to disperse in the slow, leisurely fashion of
+people who have little to do. Some men took to their boats. It did not
+need much to make a holiday then, and many were glad of the excuse. A
+throng of idlers followed in the _chemin du ronde_.
+
+Pani and her charge turned in the other direction. There was the thud of
+a horse, and Jeanne stepped half aside, then gave a gay, bright laugh as
+she shook the curls out of her eyes.
+
+"So you have not forgotten me?" said the attractive voice that would
+have almost won one against his will.
+
+"O no, M'sieu. I knew you in a moment. I could not forget you."
+
+"Thank you, _ma fille_." The simple adoration touched him. Her eyes
+were full of the subtle glow of delight.
+
+"You know what we spoke of that day, and now General Wayne has come. Did
+you see him?"
+
+"O yes, M'sieu. I looked sharp."
+
+"And were you pleased?" Something in her expression led him to think she
+was not quite satisfied, yet he smiled.
+
+"I think you are grander," she returned, simply.
+
+Then he laughed, but it was such a tender sound no one could be offended
+at it.
+
+"Monsieur," with a curious dignity, "did you ever see a king?"
+
+"Yes, my child, two of them. The English king, and the poor French king
+who was put to death, and the great Napoleon, the Emperor."
+
+"Were they very--I know one splendid word, M'sieu, _magnifique_, but I
+like best the way the English say it, magnificent. And were they--"
+
+"They were and are common looking men. Your Washington here is a peer to
+them. My child, kings are of human clay like other men; not as good or
+as noble as many another one."
+
+"I am sorry," she said, with quiet gravity, which betrayed her
+disappointment.
+
+"And you do not like General Wayne?"
+
+"O Monsieur, he has done great things for us. I hear them talk about
+him. Yes, you know I _must_ like him, that is--I do not understand about
+likes and all that, why your heart suddenly goes out to one person and
+shuts up to another when neither of them may have done anything for
+you. I have been thinking of so many things lately, since I saw you. And
+Pierre De Ber asked the good father, when he went to be catechised on
+Friday, if the world was really round. And Père Rameau said it was not a
+matter of salvation and that it made no difference whether it was round
+or square. Pierre is sure it must be a big, flat plain. You know we can
+go out ever so far on the prairies and it is quite level."
+
+"You must go to school, little one. Knowledge will solve many doubts.
+There will be better schools and more of them. Where does your father
+live? I should like to see him. And who is this woman?" nodding to
+Jeanne's attendant.
+
+"That is Pani. She has always cared for me. I have no father, Monsieur,
+and we cannot be sure about my mother. I haven't minded but I think now
+I would like to have some parents, if they did not beat me and make me
+work."
+
+"Pani is an Indian?"
+
+"Yes. She was Monsieur Bellestre's servant. And one day, under a great
+oak outside the palisade, some one, an Indian squaw, dropped me in her
+lap. Pani could not understand her language, but she said in French,
+'Maman dead, dead.' And when M. Bellestre went away, far, far to the
+south on the great river, he had the little cottage fixed for Pani and
+me, and there we live."
+
+St Armand beckoned the woman, who had been making desperate signs of
+disapprobation to Jeanne.
+
+"Tell me the story of this little girl," he said authoritatively.
+
+"Monsieur, she is mine and M. Bellestre's. Even the priest has no right
+to take her away."
+
+"No one will take her away, my good woman. Do not fear." For Pani's face
+was pale with terror and her whole form trembled. "Did you know nothing
+about this woman who brought her to you?"
+
+Pani told the story with some hesitation. The Indian woman talked very
+fair French. To what tribe she had belonged, even the De Longueils had
+not known otherwise than that she had been sent to Detroit with some
+Pawnee prisoners.
+
+"It is very curious," he commented. "I must go to the Recollet house and
+see these articles. And now tell me where I can find you--for I am due
+at the banquet given for General Wayne."
+
+"It is in St. Joseph's street above the Citadel," said Jeanne. "Oh, will
+you come? And perhaps you will not mind if I ask you some questions
+about the things that puzzle me," and an eager light shone in her eyes.
+
+"Oh, not at all. Good day, little one. I shall see you soon," and he
+waved his hand.
+
+Jeanne gave a regretful smile. But then he would come. Oh, how proud he
+looked on his handsome horse! She felt as if something had gone out of
+the day, but the sun was shining.
+
+At the corner of old St. Louis street they paused. Here was M. De Ber's
+warehouse,--the close, unfragrant smell of left-over furs mingling with
+other smells and scenting the summer air. There was almost everything in
+it, for it had great depth though not a very wide frontage: hardware of
+many kinds, firearms, rough clothing such as the boatmen and laborers
+wore, blankets, moccasins, and bunches of feathers, that were once in
+great demand by the Indians and were still called upon for dances,
+though they were hardly war dances now, only held in commemoration.
+
+Pierre threw down the bundle he was shifting to the back of the place.
+
+"Have you seen Marie this morning, Jeanne?"
+
+There was a slow, indifferent shake of the head. The child's thoughts
+were elsewhere.
+
+"Then you do not know?" The words came quick and tumbled out of his
+throat, as it were. He was so glad to tell Jeanne his bit of news first,
+just as he had been glad to find the first flowers of spring for her, to
+bring her the first fruits of the orchard and the first ripe grapes. How
+many times he had scoured the woods for them!
+
+"What has happened?" The boy's eyes were shining and his face red to its
+utmost capacity, and Jeanne knew it was no harm.
+
+"Madame Ganeau came to tea last night. Delisse is to be married next
+month. They are to get the house ready for her to go into. It is just
+out of St. Anne's street, not far from the Recollet house. It will be
+Delisse's birthday. And Marie is to be one of the maids."
+
+"Oh, that will be fine," cried Jeanne eagerly. "I hope I can go."
+
+"Of course you will. I'll be sure of that," with an assumption of
+mannishness. "And a great boat load of finery comes in to Dupree's from
+Quebec. M. Ganeau has ordered many things. Oh, I wish I was old enough
+to be some one's lover!"
+
+"I must go and see Marie. And oh, Pierre, I have seen the great general
+who fought the Indians and the British so bravely."
+
+Pierre nodded. It made little difference to the lad who fought and who
+won so that they were kept safe inside of the stockade, and business was
+good, for then his father was better natured. On bad days Pierre often
+had a liberal dose of strap.
+
+"Come, Pani, let us go to Madame De Ber's."
+
+Marie was out on the doorstep tending the baby, who was teething and
+fretful. Madame was cooking some jam of sour plums and maple sugar that
+was a good appetizer in the winter. There was always a baby at the De
+Bers'.
+
+"And Delisse is to be married! Pierre told me."
+
+"Yes; I wanted to run up this morning, but Aurel has been so cross. And
+I am to be one of the maids. At first mother said that I had no frock,
+but Madame Ganeau said get her a new one and it will do for next summer.
+I have outgrown most of my clothes, so they will have to go to Rose. All
+the maids are to have pink sashes and shoulder knots and streamers. It
+will take a sight of ribbon. But it will be something for my courting
+time, and the May dance and Pentecost. O dear, if I had a lover!"
+
+"Thou foolish child!" declared her mother. "Girls are never satisfied to
+be girls. And the houseful of children that come afterward!"
+
+Marie thought of all the children she had nursed, not her own. Yet she
+kissed little Aurel with a fond heart.
+
+"And Delisse--" suggested Jeanne.
+
+"Oh, Delisse is to wear the wedding gown her sisters had. It is long and
+has a beautiful train, some soft, shiny stuff over white silk, and lace
+that was on her _grand'mere's_ gown in France, and satin slippers. They
+are a little tight, Delisse declares, and she will not dance in them,
+but they have beautiful buckles and great high heels. I should be afraid
+of tipping over. And then the housekeeping. All the maids go to drink
+tea the first Sunday, and turn their cups to see who gets the next
+lover."
+
+Jeanne gave a shrug of disdain.
+
+Marie bent over and whispered that she was sorry Louis Marsac had gone.
+He was so nice and amusing.
+
+"Is he going to wait for you, Jeanne? You know you can marry whom you
+like, you have no father. And Louis will be rich."
+
+"He will wait a long while then and tire of it. I do not like him any
+more." Her lips felt hot suddenly.
+
+"Marie, do not talk such nonsense to Jeanne. She is only a child like
+Rose, here. You girls get crack-brained about lovers."
+
+"Come," said Pani. "Let us get a pail and go after wild plums. These
+smell so good."
+
+"And, Pani, look if the grapes are not fit to preserve," said Madame De
+Ber. "I like the tart green taste, as well as the spice of the later
+ripeness."
+
+Jeanne assented. She was so glad Louis Marsac had gone. Why, when she
+had liked him so very much and been proud to order him about, and make
+him lift her over the creeks, should she experience such a great
+revulsion of feeling? Two long years! and when he returned--
+
+"I can take Pani and run away, for I shall be a big girl then," and she
+laughed over the plan.
+
+What a day it was! The woods were full of fragrant odors, though here
+and there great patches had been cut and burned so as to afford no
+harbor to the Indians. Fruits grew wild, nuts abounded, and oh, the
+flowers! Jeanne liked these days in the woods, but what was there that
+she did not like? The river was an equal pleasure. Pani filled her pail
+with plums, Jeanne her arms with flowers.
+
+The new house of Delisse Ganeau became a great source of interest. It
+had three rooms, which was considered quite grand for a young couple.
+Jacques Graumont had a bedstead, a table, and a dresser that had been
+his mother's, a pair of brass candlesticks and some dishes. Her mother
+looked over her own stores, but the thriftier kind of French people put
+away now and then some plenishing for their children. She was closely
+watched lest Delisse should fare better than the other girls. Sisters
+had sharp eyes.
+
+There was her confession to be made, and her instruction as to the
+duties of a wife, just as if she had not seen her mother's wifely life
+all her days!
+
+"I like the Indian way best," cried Jeanne in a spirit of half
+contrariness. "Your husband takes you to his wigwam and you cook his
+meal, and it is all done with, and no fuss. Half Detroit is running
+wild."
+
+"Oh, no," replied Pani, amused at the child's waywardness. "I dare say
+the soldiers know nothing about it. And your great general and the
+ladies who give dinners. After all it is just a few people. And, little
+one, the Church wants these things all right. Then the husbands cannot
+run away and leave the poor wives to sit and cry."
+
+"I wouldn't cry," said the child with determination in her voice, and a
+color flaming up in her face.
+
+Yet she had come very near crying over a man who was nothing to her. She
+was feeling hurt and neglected. One day out in her dainty canoe she had
+seen a pleasure party on the river and her hero was among them. There
+were ladies in beautiful garments and flying ribbons and laces. Oh, she
+could have told him among a thousand! And he sat there so grandly,
+smiling and talking. She went home with a throbbing heart and would eat
+no supper; crawled into her little bed and thrust her face down in the
+fragrant pillow, but her fist was doubled up as if she could strike some
+one. She would not let the tears steal through her lids but kept
+swallowing over a big lump in her throat.
+
+"Mam'selle," said the tailor's wife, who was their next door neighbor,
+"yesterday, no, it was the day before when you and Pani were out--you
+know you are out so much," and she sighed to think how busily she had to
+ply her needle to suit her severe taskmaster--"there came a gentleman
+down from the Fort who was dreadfully disappointed not to find you. He
+was grand looking, with a fine white beard, and his horse was all
+trapped off with shining brass. I can't recall his name but it had a
+Saint to it."
+
+"St. Armand?" with a rapid breath.
+
+"Yes, that was it. Mademoiselle, I did not know you had any such fine
+friends."
+
+Jeanne did not mind the carping tone.
+
+"Thank you. I must go and tell Pani," and she skipped away, knowing that
+Pani was not in the house, but she wanted to give vent to her joy.
+
+She danced about the old room and her words had a delight that was like
+music. "He has not forgotten me! he has not forgotten me!" was her glad
+song. The disappointment that she had missed him came afterward.
+
+For although Detroit was not very large at this time, one might have
+wandered about a good deal and not seen the one person it would have
+been a pleasure to meet. And Jeanne was much more at home outside the
+palisade. The business jostling and the soldiers gave her a slight sense
+of fear and the crowding was not to her taste. She liked the broad, free
+sweep outside. And whether she had inherited a peculiar pride and
+delicacy from the parents no one knew; certain it was she would put
+herself in no one's way. Others came to her, she felt then every one
+must.
+
+She could not have understood the many claims upon Monsieur St. Armand.
+There were days when he had to study his tablets to remember even a
+dinner engagement. He was called into council by General Wayne, he had
+to go over to the Canada side with some delicate negotiations about the
+upper part of the Territory, he was deeply interested in the opening and
+working of the copper mines, and in the American Fur Company, so it was
+hardly to be wondered at that he should forget about the little girl
+when there were so many important things.
+
+The wedding was not half so tiresome then. And oh, what glorious weather
+it was, just enough sharpness at night to bring out all the fragrant
+dewy smells! The far-off forests glowed like gardens of wonderful bloom
+when the sun touched them with his marvelous brilliancy. And the river
+would have been a study for an artist or a fairy pen.
+
+So one morning the bell of old St. Anne's rung out a cheerful peal. It
+had been rebuilt and enlarged once, but it had a quaintly venerable
+aspect. And up the aisle the troop of white clad maidens walked
+reverently and knelt before the high altar where the candles were
+burning and there was an odor of incense beside the spice of evergreens.
+
+The priest made a very sacred ceremony of the marriage. Jeanne listened
+in half affright. All their lives long, in sickness and health, in
+misfortune, they must never cease to love, never allow any wavering
+fancies, but go on to old age, to death itself.
+
+Delisse looked very happy when her veil was thrown back. And then they
+had a gala time. Friends came to see the new house and drink the bride's
+health and wish the husband good luck. And the five bridesmaids and
+their five attendants came to tea. There was much anxiety when the cups
+were turned, and blushes and giggles and exclamations, as an old Indian
+woman, who had a great reputation for foretelling, and would surely have
+been hung in the Salem witchcraft, looked them over with an air of
+mystery, and found the figure of a man with an outstretched hand, in the
+bottom of Marie De Ber's cup.
+
+"And she's the youngest. That isn't fair!" cried several of the girls,
+while Madelon Dace smiled serenely, for she knew when the next trappers
+came in her lover would be among them, and a speedy wedding follow.
+Marie had never walked from church with a young man.
+
+Then the dance in the evening! That was out of doors under the stars, in
+the court at the back of the house. The Loisel brothers came with their
+fiddles, and there was great merriment in a simple, delightful fashion,
+and several of the maids had honeyed words said to them that meant a
+good deal, and held out promises of the future. For though they took
+their religion seriously in the services of the Church, they were gay
+and light hearted, pleasure loving when the time of leisure came, or at
+festivals and marriages.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+AN UNKNOWN QUANTITY.
+
+
+"There was a pretty wedding to-day in St. Anne's," said Madelon Fleury,
+glancing up at Laurent St. Armand, with soft, dark eyes. "I looked for
+you. I should have asked you formally," laughing and showing her pearly
+teeth, "but we had hardly thought of going. It was a sudden thing. And
+the bridesmaids were quite a sight."
+
+"There is an old English proverb," began Madame Fleury--
+
+          "'Who changes her name and not the letter,
+           Marries for worse and not the better.'
+
+and both names begin alike."
+
+"But they are French," appended Lisa, brightly. "The prediction may have
+no effect."
+
+"It is to be hoped it will not," commented Monsieur Fleury. "Jacques
+Graumont is a nice, industrious young fellow, and not given to drink.
+Now there will be business enough, and he is handy and expert at boat
+building, while the Ganeaus are thrifty people. M. Ganeau does a good
+business in provisioning the traders when they go north. Did you wish
+the young couple success, Madelon?"
+
+The girl flushed. "I do not know her. We have met the mother
+occasionally. To tell the truth, I do not enjoy this mixing up of
+traders and workmen and--" she hesitated.
+
+"And quality," appended Lisa, with a mischievous glance at her sister.
+
+"We are likely to have more of it than less," said her father, gravely.
+"These Americans have some curious ideas. While they are proud enough to
+trace their ancestry back to French or English or even Italian rank,
+they taboo titles except such as are won by merit. And it must be
+confessed they have had many brave men among them, heroes animated by
+broader views than the first conquerors of the country."
+
+"Yes," exclaimed St. Armand, "France made a great mistake and has lost
+her splendid heritage. She insisted on continuing the old world policy
+of granting court favorites whatever they asked, without studying the
+conditions of the new world. Then England pinned her faith and plans to
+a military colonization that should emanate from a distant throne. It is
+true she gave a larger liberty, a religious liberty, and exploited the
+theory of homes instead of mere trading posts. The American has improved
+on all this. It is as if he said, 'I will conquer the new world by force
+of industry; there shall be equal rights to homes, to labor, to'--there
+is a curious and delightful sounding sentence in their Declaration,
+which is a sort of corner stone--'life, liberty, and pursuit of
+happiness.' One man's idea of happiness is quite different from
+another's, however;" smiling.
+
+"And there will be clashing. There is much to do, and time alone can
+tell whether they will work out the problem."
+
+"They seem to blend different peoples. There is the Puritan in the East,
+who is allowing his prejudices to soften; there are the Dutch, about the
+towns on the Hudson, the Friends in Pennsylvania, the proud old
+cavaliers in Virginia and Carolina."
+
+"And the Indians, who will ever hate them! The French settlements at the
+West, up and down the mighty river, who will never forget La Salle,
+Tonti, Cadillac, and the De Bienvilles. There's a big work yet to do."
+
+"I think they will do it," returned St. Armand, his eyes kindling. "With
+such men as your brave, conciliatory General Wayne, a path is opened for
+a more reasonable agreement."
+
+"You cannot trust the Indians. I think the French have understood them
+better, and made them more friendly. In many respects they are children,
+in others almost giants where they consider themselves wronged. And it
+is a nice question, how much rights they have in the soil."
+
+"It has been a question since the world began. Were not the children of
+Israel commanded to drive the Canaanites out of their own land? Did not
+the Romans carry conquests all over Europe? And the Spaniard here, who
+has been driven out for his cruelty and rapacity. The world question is
+a great tree at which many nations have a hack, and some of them get
+only the unripe fruit as the branches fall. But the fruit matures
+slowly, and some one will gather it in the end, that is certain."
+
+"But has not the Indian a right to his happiness, to his liberty?" said
+Laurent, rather mischievously. He had been chaffing with the girls, yet
+listening to the talk of the elders.
+
+"In Indian ethics might makes right as elsewhere. They murder and
+destroy each other; some tribes have been almost wiped out and sold for
+slaves, as these Pawnee people. Depend upon it they will never take
+kindly to civilization. A few have intermarried, and though there is
+much romance about Rolfe and his Indian princess, St. Castin and his,
+they are more apt to affiliate with the Indians in the next generation."
+
+"My young man who was so ready to fight was a half-breed, I heard," said
+Laurent. "His French father is quite an important fur trader, I learned.
+Yet the young fellow has been lounging round for the past three months,
+lying in the sun outside the stockade, flirting and making love alike to
+Indian and French maids, and haunting Jogue's place down on the river.
+Though, for that matter, it seems to be headquarters for fur traders. A
+handsome fellow, too. Why has he not the pride of the French?"
+
+"Such marriages are a disgrace to the nation," said Madame Fleury,
+severely.
+
+"And that recalls to my mind,--" St. Armand paused with a retrospective
+smile, thinking of the compliment his little friend had paid him,--"to
+inquire if you know anything about a child who lives not far from the
+lower citadel, in the care of an Indian woman. Her name is Jeanne
+Angelot."
+
+The girls glanced at each other with a little curl of the lip as St.
+Armand's eyes wandered around.
+
+"My father met her at the flag-raising and was charmed with her eyes and
+her ignorance," said Laurent, rather flippantly.
+
+"If I were going to become a citizen of Detroit I should interest myself
+in this subject of education. It is sinful to allow so many young people
+to grow up in ignorance," declared the elder St. Armand.
+
+"Most of our girls of the better class are sent to Montreal or Quebec,"
+exclaimed Madame Fleury. "The English have governesses. And there is the
+Recollet school; there may be places outside the stockade."
+
+Monsieur Fleury shook his head uncertainly. "Angelot, Angelot," he
+repeated. "I do not know the name."
+
+"Father Gilbert or Father Rameau might know. Are these Angelots
+Catholics?"
+
+"There is only one little girl."
+
+"Oh!" a light broke over Madame's face. "I think I can recall an event.
+Husband, you know the little child the Bellestres had?"
+
+"I do not remember," shaking his head.
+
+"It was found queerly. They had a slave who became its nurse. The
+Bellestres were Huguenots, but Madame had a leaning toward the Church
+and the child was baptized. Madame Bellestre, who was a lovely woman,
+deferred to her husband until she was dying, when Father Rameau was sent
+for and she acknowledged that she died in the holy faith. There was
+some talk about the child, but M. Bellestre claimed it and cares for it.
+Under the English reign, you know, the good fathers had not so much
+authority."
+
+"Where can I find this Father Rameau?"
+
+"At the house beside the church. It is headquarters for the priests who
+come and go. A delightful old man is the father, though I could wish at
+times he would exercise a little more authority and make a stand for our
+rights. I sometimes fear we shall be quite pushed to the wall."
+
+St. Armand had come of a long line of Huguenots more than one of whom
+had suffered for his faith. He was a liberal now, studying up religion
+from many points, but he was too gallant to discuss it with a lady and
+his hostess.
+
+The young people were getting restive. It was just the night for
+delightful canoeing on the river and it had been broached in the
+afternoon. Marie the maid, quite a superior woman, was often intrusted
+with this kind of companionship. Before they were ready to start a young
+neighbor came in who joined them.
+
+Monsieur Fleury invited his guest to an end porch shaded by a profusion
+of vines, notable among them the sweetbrier, that gave out a fragrant
+incense on the night air. Even here they could catch sounds of the music
+from the river parties, for the violin and a young French habitan were
+almost inseparable.
+
+"Nay," he replied, "though a quiet smoke tempts the self-indulgent side
+of my nature. But I want to see the priest. I am curiously interested
+in this child."
+
+"There were some whispers about her, Monsieur, that one does not mention
+before young people. One was that she had Indian blood in her veins,
+and--" here Madame Fleury lowered her voice almost to a whisper,--"and
+that Madame Bellestre, who was very much of the _haute noblesse_, should
+be so ready to take in a strange child, and that M. Bellestre should
+keep his sort of guardianship over her and provide for her. Some of the
+talk comes back to me. There have been many questionable things done we
+older people know."
+
+St. Armand gave an assenting nod. Then he asked himself what there was
+about the child that should interest one so much, recalling her pretty
+eager compliment that he resembled a king, or her vague idea of one.
+
+His dinner dress set him off to a fine advantage. It was much in the old
+French fashion--the long waistcoat of flowered satin and velvet with its
+jeweled buttons; the ruffled shirt front, the high stock, the lace cuffs
+about the hand, the silken small clothes and stockings. And when he was
+dressed in furs with fringed deerskin leggings and a beaver cap above
+the waving brown hair, with his snowy beard and pink cheeks, and his
+blue eyes, he was a goodly picture as well.
+
+The priest's house was easily found. The streets were full of people in
+the early evening, for in this pleasant weather it was much more
+refreshing out of door than in. The smells of furs and skins lingered
+in the atmosphere, and a few days of good strong wind was a godsend. The
+doorways were full, women caressing their babies and chanting low
+lullabies; while elsewhere a pretty young girl hung over the lower half
+of the door and laughed with an admirer while her mother sat drowsing
+just within.
+
+A tidy old woman, in coif and white apron over her black gown, bowed her
+head as she answered his question. The good father was in. Would the
+stranger walk this way?
+
+Père Rameau was crossing the hall. In the dim light, a stone basin
+holding oil after the fashion of a Greek lamp, the wick floating on top,
+the priest glanced up at his visitor. Both had passed each other in the
+street and hardly needed an introduction.
+
+"I hope I have not disturbed you in any way," began M. St. Armand in an
+attractive tone that gained a listener at once. "I have come to talk
+over a matter that has a curious interest for me, and I am told you have
+the key, if not to the mystery exactly, to some of the links. I hope you
+will not consider me intrusive."
+
+"I shall be glad to give you any information that is possible. I am not
+a politician, Monsieur, and have been trained not to speak evil of those
+appointed to rule over us."
+
+He was a tall, spare man with a face that even in the wrinkles and
+thinness of age, and perhaps a little asceticism, was sweet and calm,
+and the brown eyes were soft, entreating. Clean shaven, the chin showed
+narrow, but the mouth redeemed it. He wore the black cassock of the
+Recollets, the waist girded by a cord from which was suspended a cross
+and a book of devotions.
+
+"Then if it is a serious talk, come hither. There may be a little smoke
+in the air--"
+
+"I am a smoker myself," said St. Armand cordially.
+
+"Then you may not object to a pipe. I have some most excellent tobacco.
+I bethink me sometimes that it is not a habit of self-sacrifice, but the
+fragrance is delightful and it soothes the nerves."
+
+The room was rather long, and somewhat narrow. At the far end there was
+a small altar and a _prie dieu_. A candle was burning and its light
+defined the ivory crucifix above. In the corner a curtained something
+that might be a confessional. Indeed, not a few startling confessions
+had been breathed there. An escritoire with some shelves above,
+curiously carved, that bespoke its journey across the sea, took a great
+wall space and seemed almost to divide the room. The window in the front
+end was quite wide, and the shutters were thrown open for air, though a
+coarse curtain fell in straight folds from the top. Here was a
+commodious desk accommodating papers and books, a small table with pipes
+and tobacco, two wooden chairs and a more comfortable one which the
+priest proffered to the guest.
+
+"Shall we have a light? Marcel, bring a candle."
+
+"Nay," protested the visitor, "I enjoy this dimness. One seems more
+inclined to talk, though I think I have heard a most excellent reason
+educed for such a course;" and a mirthful twinkle shone in his eyes.
+
+The priest laughed softly. "It is hardly applicable here. I sat
+thinking. The sun has been so brilliant for days that the night brings
+comfort. You are a stranger here, Monsieur?"
+
+"Yes, though it is not my first visit to Detroit. I have gone from New
+York to Michilimackinac several times, to Montreal, Quebec, to France
+and back, though I was born there. I am the guest of Monsieur Fleury."
+
+The priest made an approving inclination of the head.
+
+"One sees many strange things. You have a conglomerate, Père Rameau. And
+now a new--shall I say ruler?"
+
+"That is the word, Monsieur. And I hope it may last as long as the
+English reign. We cannot pray for the success of La Belle France any
+more."
+
+"France has her own hard battles to fight. Yet it makes one a little sad
+to think of the splendid heritage that has slipped from her hands, for
+which her own discoverers and priests gave up their lives. Still, she
+has been proved unworthy of her great trust. I, as a Frenchman, say it
+with sorrow."
+
+"You are a churchman, Monsieur?"
+
+"A Christian, I hope. For several generations we have been on the other
+side. But I am not unmindful of good works or good lives."
+
+Père Rameau bowed his head.
+
+"What I wished to talk about was a little girl," St. Armand began,
+after a pause. "Jeanne Angelot, I have heard her called."
+
+"Ah, Monsieur, you know something about her, then?" returned the priest,
+eagerly.
+
+"No, I wish I did. I have crossed her path a time or two, though I can't
+tell just why she interests me. She is bright, vivacious, but curiously
+ignorant. Why does she live with this Indian woman and run wild?"
+
+"I cannot tell any further than it seems M. Bellestre's strange whim.
+All I know of the child is Pani's story. The De Longueils went to France
+and the Bellestres took their house. Pani had been given her freedom,
+but remained with the new owners. She was a very useful woman, but
+subject to curious spells of longing for her olden friends. Sometimes
+she would disappear for days, spending the time among the Indian squaws
+outside the stockade. She was there one evening when this child was
+dropped in her lap by a young Indian woman. Touchas, the woman she was
+staying with, corroborates the story. The child was two years or more
+old, and talked French; cried at first for her 'maman.' Madame Bellestre
+insisted that Pani should bring the child to her. She had lost a little
+one by death about the same age. She supposed at first that some one
+would claim it, but no one ever did. Then she brought the child to me
+and had it christened by the name on the card, Jeanne Angelot. Madame
+had a longing for the ministrations of the Church, but her husband was
+opposed. In her last illness he consented. He loved her very dearly. I
+think he was afraid of the influence of a priest, but he need not have
+been. She gave me all the things belonging to the child, and I promised
+to yield them up to the one who claimed her, or Jeanne herself when she
+was eighteen, or on her wedding day when she was married. Her husband
+promised to provide for the child as long as she needed it. He was very
+fond of her, too."
+
+"And was there no suspicion?" St. Armand hesitated.
+
+The pale face betrayed a little warmth and the slim fingers clasped each
+other.
+
+"I understand, Monsieur. There was and I told him of it. With his hand
+on God's word he declared that he knew no more about her than Pani's
+story, and that he had loved his wife too well for his thoughts ever to
+stray elsewhere. He was an honest, upright man and I believe him. He
+planned at first to take the child to New Orleans, but Mademoiselle, who
+was about fourteen, objected strenuously. She _was_ jealous of her
+father's love for the child. M. Bellestre was a large, fair man with
+auburn hair and hazel eyes, generous, kindly, good-tempered. The child
+is dark, and has a passionate nature, beats her playmates if they offend
+her, though it is generally through some cruel thing they have done. She
+has noble qualities but there never has been any training. Yet every one
+has a good word for her and a warm side. I do not think the child would
+tell a lie or take what did not belong to her. She would give all she
+had sooner."
+
+"You interest me greatly. But would it not be wiser for her to have a
+better home and different training? Does M. Bellestre consent to have
+her grow up in ignorance?"
+
+"I have proposed she and Pani should come to the Recollet house. We have
+classes, you know, and there are orphan children. Several times we have
+coaxed her in, but it was disastrous. She set our classes in an uproar.
+The sister put her in a room by herself and she jumped out of the window
+and threatened to run away to the woods if she were sent again. M.
+Bellestre thinks to come to Detroit sometime, when it will be settled no
+doubt. His daughter is married now. He may take Jeanne back with him."
+
+"That would be a blessing. But she has an eager mind and now we are
+learning that a broader education is necessary. It seems a pity--"
+
+"Monsieur, there are only two lines that seem important for a woman. One
+is the training to make her a good wife and mother, and in new countries
+this is much needed. It is simplicity and not worldly arrogance,
+obedience and not caviling; first as a daughter, then as a wife. To
+guide the house, prepare the meals, teach her children the holy truths
+of the Church, and this is all God will require of her. The other is to
+devote her whole life to God's work, but not every one has this gift.
+And she who bears children obeys God's mandate and will have her
+reward."
+
+"Whether the world is round or square," thought the Sieur St. Armand,
+but he was too courteous even to smile. Jeanne Angelot would need a
+wider life than this, and, if unduly narrowed, would spring over the
+traces.
+
+"You think M. Bellestre means to come?"
+
+"He has put it off to next year now. There is so much unrest and
+uncertainty all over the country, that at present he cannot leave his
+business."
+
+St. Armand sighed softly, thinking of Jeanne.
+
+"Would you show the clothes and the trinkets?"
+
+"O yes, Monsieur, to a person like you, but not to the idly curious.
+Indeed, for that matter, they have been mostly forgotten. So many things
+have happened to distract attention."
+
+He rose and went to the old escritoire. Unlocking a drawer he took out a
+parcel folded in a piece of cloth.
+
+"The clothes she wore," he said, "even to the little shoes of deerskin.
+There is nothing special about them to denote that she was the child of
+a rich person."
+
+That was very true, St. Armand saw, except that the little stockings
+were fine and bore the mark of imported goods. He mused over them.
+
+The priest opened a small, oblong box that still had the scent of snuff
+about it. On it was the name of Bellestre. So that was no clew.
+
+"Here is the necklet and the little ring and the paper with her name.
+Madame Bellestre placed these in my hand some time before she died."
+
+The chain was slender and of gold, the locket small; inside two painted
+miniatures but very diminutive, and both of them young. One would hardly
+be able to identify a middle aged person from them. There was no mark or
+initials, save an undecipherable monogram.
+
+"It is a pity there are no more chances of identification," St. Armand
+said. "This and the stockings come from France. And if the poor mother
+was dead--"
+
+"There are so many orphans, Monsieur. Kind people take them in. I know
+of some who have been restored to their families. It is my dream to
+gather them in one home and train them to useful lives. It may come if
+we have peace for a while."
+
+"She has a trusty guardian in you."
+
+"If I could decide her fate, Monsieur. Truly she is a child of the
+Church, but she is wild and would revolt at any abridgment of her
+liberty. We may win her by other means. Pani is a Christian woman though
+with many traits of Indian character, some of the best of them,"
+smiling. "It cannot be that the good Father above will allow any of his
+examples to be of none effect. Pani watches over her closely and loves
+her with untiring devotion. She firmly upholds M. Bellestre's right and
+believes he will return. The money to support them is sent to M. Loisel,
+the notary, and he is not a churchman. It is a pity so many of out brave
+old fathers should die for the faith and the children not be gathered in
+one fold. In Father Bonaventure's time it was not so, but the English
+had not come."
+
+The good priest sighed and began folding up the articles.
+
+"Father Gilbert believes in a stricter rule. But most of the people have
+years of habit that they put in the place of faith. Yet they are a good,
+kindly people, and they need some pleasures to compensate for their hard
+lives. They are gay and light-hearted as you have no doubt seen, but
+many of them are tinctured with Indian superstitions as well. Then for a
+month, when the fur traders come in, there is much drinking and
+disorder. There have been many deep-rooted prejudices. My nation cannot
+forgive the English for numberless wrongs. We could always have been
+friends with the Indians when they understood that we meant to deal
+fairly by them. And we were to blame for supplying them with fire water,
+justly so called. The fathers saw this and fought against it a century
+ago. Even the Sieur Cadillac tried to restrict them, though he did not
+approve the Jesuits. Monsieur, as you may have seen, the Frenchman
+drinks a little with the social tendency of his race, the Indian for the
+sake of wild expansion. He is a grand hero to himself, then, ready for a
+war dance, for fighting, cruelty, rapine, and revenge. I hope the new
+nation will understand better how to deal with them. They are the true
+children of the forest and the wilderness. I suppose in time they would
+even destroy each other."
+
+St. Armand admitted to himself that it was hard to push them farther to
+the cold, inhospitable north, which would soon be the only hunting
+ground left them unless the unknown West opened a future resource.
+
+"They are a strange race. Yet there have been many fierce peoples on our
+earth that have proved themselves amenable to civilization."
+
+"Let us hope for better times and a more lasting peace. Prejudices die
+out in a few generations." Then he rose. "I thank you sincerely for your
+kindness, father, and hope you will be prospered in your good work, and
+in the oversight of the child."
+
+"You are not to remain--"
+
+St. Armand smiled. "I have much business on my hands. There are many
+treaty points to define and settle. I go to Washington; I may go to
+France. But I wish you all prosperity under the new government."
+
+The priest bowed.
+
+"And you will do your best for the child?"
+
+"Whatever I am allowed to do, Monsieur."
+
+There was still much soreness about religious matters. The English
+laxity had led to too much liberty, to doubting, even.
+
+They bade each other a cordial adieu, with hopes of meeting again.
+
+"Strange there should be so many interested in the child," St. Armand
+mused. "And she goes her own way serenely."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+IN WHICH JEANNE BOWS HER HEAD.
+
+
+General Anthony Wayne was a busy man for the next few weeks, though he
+was full of tireless activity to his finger tips. There was much to be
+done in the town that was old already and had seen three different
+régimes. English people were packing their worldly goods and starting
+for Canada. Some of the French were going to the farther western
+settlements. Barracks were overhauled, the palisades strengthened, the
+Fort put in a better state of defense. For there were threats that the
+English might return. There were roving bands of Indians to the north
+and west, ready to be roused to an attack by disaffected French or
+English.
+
+But the industrious inhabitants plied their vocations unmindful of
+change of rulers. Boat loads of emigrants came in. Stores of all kinds
+were dumped upon the wharf. The red painted windmills flew like great
+birds in the air, though some of the habitans kept to their little home
+hand mill, whose two revolving stones needed a great expenditure of
+strength and ground but coarsely. You saw women spinning in doorways
+that they might nod to passers-by or chat with a neighbor who had time
+to spare.
+
+The children played about largely on the outside of the palisade. There
+were waving fields of maize that farmers had watched with fear and
+trembling and now surveyed with pride. Other grains were being
+cultivated. Estates were staked out, new log houses were erected, some
+much more pretentious ones with great stone chimneys.
+
+Yet people found time for pleasure. There were canoe loads of merry
+girls going down or up the river, adroitly keeping out of the way of the
+larger craft and sending laughing replies to the chaff of the boatmen.
+And the evenings were mostly devoted to pleasure, with much music and
+singing. For it was not all work then.
+
+Jeanne roamed at her own wayward will, oftenest within the inclosure
+with Pani by the hand. The repairs going on interested her. The new
+soldiers in their Continental blue and buff, most of it soiled and worn,
+presented quite a contrast to the red and gold of the English to which
+their eyes had become so accustomed. Now and then some one spoke
+respectfully to her; there was much outward deference paid to women even
+if the men were some of them tyrants within.
+
+And Jeanne asked questions in her own fearless fashion. She had picked
+up some English and by dint of both languages could make herself
+understood.
+
+"Well?" exclaimed a young lieutenant who had been overseeing some work
+and cleaning up at the barracks, turning a smiling and amused face
+towards her, "well, Mademoiselle, how do you like us--your new
+masters?"
+
+"Are you going to be masters here for long? Are you sure the English
+will not come back?"
+
+She raised her head proudly and her eyes flashed.
+
+"It looks as if we might stay," he answered.
+
+"You will not be everybody's master. You will not be mine."
+
+"Why, no. What I meant was the government. Individuals you know have
+always a certain liberty."
+
+She wondered a little what individuals were. Ah, if one could know a
+good deal! Something was stirring within her and it gave her a sort of
+pain, perplexing her as well.
+
+What a bright curious face it was with the big eyes that looked out so
+straightforwardly!
+
+"You are French, Mam'selle, or--"
+
+"Am I like an Indian?"
+
+She stood up straight and seemed two or three inches taller. He turned a
+sudden scarlet as he studied the mop of black curling hair, the long
+lashes, through which her eyes glittered, the brown skin that was sun
+kissed rather than of a copper tint, the shapely figure, and small hands
+that looked as if they might grasp and hold on.
+
+"No, Mam'selle, I think you are not." Then he looked at Pani. "You live
+here?"
+
+"Oh, not far away. Pani is my--oh, I do not know what you call
+it--guard, nurse, but I am a big girl now and do not need a nurse.
+Monsieur, I think I am French. But I dropped from the clouds one evening
+and I can't remember the land before that."
+
+The soldier stared, but not impertinently.
+
+"Mam'selle, I hope you will like us, since we have come to stay."
+
+"Ah, do not feel too sure. The French drove out the Indians, the English
+conquered the French, and they went away--many of them. And you have
+driven out the English. Where will the next people come from?"
+
+"The next people?" in surprise.
+
+"The people to drive you out." She laughed softly.
+
+"We will not be driven out."
+
+"Are you as strong as that?"
+
+"Mam'selle, we have conquered the English from Maine to the Carolinas,
+and to the Mississippi river. We shall do all the rest sometime."
+
+"I think I shall be an American. I like people who are strong and can
+never be beaten."
+
+"Of course you will have to be an American. And you must learn to speak
+English well."
+
+"Monsieur," with much dignity, "if you are so grand why do you not have
+a language of your own?"
+
+"Because"--he was about to say--"we were English in the beginning," but
+the sharp, satirical curves lurking around her mouth checked him. What
+an odd, piquant creature she was!
+
+"Come away," and Pani pulled her hand. "You talk too much to people and
+make M'sieu idle."
+
+"O Pani!" She gave an exultant cry and sprang away, then stopped short.
+For it was not only her friend, but a number of gentlemen in military
+attire and mounted on horses with gay trappings.
+
+Monsieur St. Armand waved his hand to her. She shrank back and caught
+Pani's gown.
+
+"It is General Wayne," said the lieutenant, and paid him something more
+than the demands of superior rank, for admiration was in his eyes and
+Jeanne noticed it.
+
+"My little friend," said St. Armand, leaning down toward Jeanne, "I am
+glad to see you again." He turned a trifle. The general and his aids
+were on a tour of inspection, and now the brave soldier leaped from the
+saddle, giving the child a glance.
+
+"I have been coming to find you," began Monsieur. "I have many things to
+say to your attendant. Especially as in a few days I go away."
+
+"O Monsieur, is it because you do not like--" her eyes followed the
+general's suite.
+
+"It is because I like them so well. I go to their capital on some
+business, and then to France. But I shall return in a year, perhaps. A
+year is not very long."
+
+"Just a winter and a summer. There are many of them to life?"
+
+"To some lives, yes. I hope there will be to yours, happy ones."
+
+"I am always happy when I can run about or sail on the river. There are
+so many delightful things when no one bothers you."
+
+"And the bothers are, I suppose, when some one considers your way not
+the best for you. We all meet with such things in life."
+
+"My own way is the best," she replied, willfully, a daring light
+shining in her eyes. "Do I not know what gives me the most pleasure? If
+I want to go out and sing with the birds or run mad races with the dogs,
+or play with the children outside, that is the thing which gives me joy
+and makes my blood rush warm and bright in my veins. Monsieur, I told
+you I did not like to be shut up."
+
+"Well, well. Remain in your little cottage this afternoon, and let me
+come and talk to you. I think I will not make you unhappy."
+
+"Your voice is so sweet, Monsieur, but if you say disagreeable things,
+if you want me to learn to sew and to read--and to spin--the De Bers
+have just had a spinning wheel come. It is a queer thing and hums
+strangely. And Marie will learn to spin, her mother says. Then she will
+never be able to go in the woods for wild grapes and nuts. No, I cannot
+spend my time being so busy. And I do not care for stockings. Leggings
+are best for winter. And Touchas makes me moccasins."
+
+Her feet and ankles were bare now. Dainty and shapely they were, and
+would have done for models.
+
+"Monsieur, the soft grass and the warm sand is so pleasant to one's
+feet. I am glad I am not a grand lady to wear clumsy shoes. Why, I could
+not run."
+
+St. Armand laughed. He had never seen such a free, wild, human thing
+rejoicing exultantly in its liberty. It seemed almost a shame to capture
+her--like caging a bird. But she could not always be a child.
+
+General Wayne had made his round and given some orders, and now he
+reappeared.
+
+"I want to present you to this little girl of Detroit," began M. St.
+Armand, "so that in years to come, when she hears of all your exploits,
+she will be proud that she had the honor. Jeanne Angelot is the small
+maid's name. And this is our brave General Wayne, who has persuaded the
+Indians to peace and amity, and taught the English to keep their word.
+But he can fight as well as talk."
+
+"Monsieur, when they gave you welcome, I did not think you looked grand
+enough for a great general. But when I come near by I see you are brave
+and strong and determined. I honor you, Monsieur. I am glad you are to
+rule Detroit."
+
+"Thank you, my little maid. I hope Detroit will become a great city, and
+that you may live many years in it, and be very happy."
+
+She made a courtesy with free, exquisite grace. General Wayne leaped
+into his saddle and waved his hand.
+
+"What an odd and charming child," he remarked to St. Armand. "No woman
+of society could have been more graceful and less abashed, and few would
+own up change of opinion with such naïve sweetness. Of course she is a
+child of the people?"
+
+"I am interested in learning who she really is;" and St. Armand repeated
+what he knew of her story.
+
+"Her mother may have been killed by the Indians. There will be many a
+sad romance linked in with our early history, Sieur St. Armand."
+
+As for Jeanne Angelot, many a time in after years she recalled her
+meeting with the brave general, and no one dreamed then that his
+brilliant career was to end so soon. Until November he held the post,
+repairing fortifications, promulgating new laws, redressing abuses,
+soothing the disaffected and, as far as he could, studying the best
+interests of the town. In November he started for the East, but at
+Presque Isle was seized with a fatal malady which ended his useful and
+energetic career, and proved a great loss to the country.
+
+Monsieur St. Armand was late in keeping his word. There had been many
+things pressing on his attention and consideration. Jeanne had been very
+restless. A hundred desires flew to her mind like birds on the wing.
+Never had there seemed so many charms outside of the walls. She ran down
+to see Marie at the new spinning wheel. Madame De Ber had not used one
+in a long time and was a little awkward.
+
+"When I have Marie well trained I think I will take thee in hand," she
+said, rather severely. "Thou wilt soon be a big girl and then a maiden
+who should be laying by some garments and blankets and household gear.
+And thou canst not even knit."
+
+"But why should I? There are no brothers and sisters, and Wenonah is
+glad to make garments for me. Though I think M. Bellestre's money pays
+for them. And Touchas sends such nice fur things."
+
+"I should be ashamed to have other people work while I climbed trees and
+ran about with Indian children. Though it is half suspected they are
+kin to thee. But the French part should rule."
+
+Jeanne threw up her head with a proud gesture.
+
+"I should not mind. I often feel that they must be. They like liberty,
+so do I. We are like birds and wild deer."
+
+Then the child ran back before any reply could be made. Yet she was not
+as indifferent as she seemed. She had not minded it until lately, but
+now when it came in this sort of taunt she could not tell why a
+remembrance of Louis Marsac should rise before her. After all, what did
+a little Indian blood matter? Many a girl smiled on Louis Marsac, for
+they knew his father was a rich fur trader. Was it the riches that
+counted?
+
+"He will not come," she said half angrily to Pani. "The big ladies are
+very proud to have him. They wear fine clothes that come from France,
+and they can smile and Madame Fleury has a harp her daughters play upon.
+But they might be content with the young men."
+
+"It is not late yet," trying to console her darling.
+
+"Pani, I shall go outside the gates. I am so tired. I want to run races
+to get my breath. It stops just as it does when the fog is in the air."
+
+"No, child, stay here a little longer. It would be sad to miss him. And
+he is going away."
+
+"Let him go. I think all men are a great trouble! You wait and wait for
+them. Then, if you go away they are sure to come."
+
+Pani laughed. The child was brimming over with unreason. Yet her eyes
+were like stars, and in an uncomprehended way the woman felt the charm
+of her beauty. No, she would never part with her.
+
+"O Pani!" The child sprang up and executed a _pas seul_ worthy of a
+larger audience. Her first impulse was to run to meet him. Then she
+suddenly subsided from some inexplicable cause, and a flush came to her
+cheek as she dropped down on a seat beside the doorway, made of the
+round of a log, and folded her hands demurely, looking out to the
+barracks.
+
+Of course she turned when she heard the steps. There was a grave
+expression on her face, charming innocence that would have led anyone
+astray.
+
+Pani rose and made an obeisance, and brought forward a chair.
+
+"Or would Monsieur rather go in doors?" she inquired.
+
+"O no. Little one--" he held out his hand.
+
+"I thought you had forgotten. It is late," she said plaintively.
+
+"I am a busy man, my child. I could wish for a little of the freedom
+that you rejoice in so exuberantly, though I dare say I shall have
+enough on my journey."
+
+What a companion this gay, chattering child would be, going through new
+scenes!
+
+"Mademoiselle, are you ever serious? Or are you too young to take
+thought of to-morrow?"
+
+"I am always planning for to-morrow, am I not, Pani? And if it rains I
+do not mind, but go the same, except that it is not always safe on the
+river, which sometimes seems as if the giant monster of the deep was
+sailing about in it."
+
+"There is another kind of seriousness, my child, and a thought of the
+future that is not mere pleasure. You will outgrow this gay childhood.
+You may even find it necessary to go to some other country. There may be
+friends awaiting you that you know nothing of now. You would no doubt
+like to have them pleased with you, proud of you. And for this and true
+living you need some training. You must learn to read, to speak English,
+and you will find great pleasure in it. Then you will enjoy talking to
+older people. You see you will be older yourself."
+
+His eyes were fixed steadily on hers and would not allow them to waver.
+She felt the power of the stronger mind.
+
+"I have been talking with M. Bellestre's notary. He thinks you should go
+to school. There are to be some schools started as soon as the autumn
+opens. You know you wanted to learn why the world was round, and about
+the great continent of Europe and a hundred interesting subjects."
+
+"But, Monsieur, it is mostly prayers. I do not so much mind Sunday, for
+then there are people to see. But to have it every day--and the same
+things over and over--"
+
+She gave a yawn that was half ridiculous grimace.
+
+"Prayers, are very good, Mam'selle. While I am away I want you to pray
+for me that sometime God will bring me back safe and allow me to see
+you again. And I shall say when I see the sun rising on the other side
+of the world, 'It is night now in old Detroit and there is a little girl
+praying for me.'"
+
+"O Monsieur, would you be glad?" Her eyes were suffused with a mistlike
+joy. "Then I will pray for you. That is so different from praying for
+people you don't know anything about, and to--to saints. I don't know
+them either. I feel as if they sat in long rows and just nodded to you."
+
+"Pray to the good God, my child," he returned gravely. "And if you learn
+to read and write you might send me a letter."
+
+Her eyes opened wide in amazement. "Oh, I could never learn enough for
+that!" she cried despairingly.
+
+"Yes, you can, you will. M. Loisel will arrange it for you. And twice a
+week you will go to the sisters, I have promised Father Rameau. There
+will be plenty of time to run and play besides."
+
+Jeanne Angelot looked steadily down on the ground. A caterpillar was
+dragging its length along and she touched it with her foot.
+
+"It was once a butterfly. It will spin itself up in a web and hang
+somewhere all winter, and in the spring turn to a butterfly again."
+
+"That ugly thing!" in intense surprise.
+
+"And how the trees drop their leaves in the autumn and their buds are
+done up in a brown sheath until the spring sunshine softens it and the
+tiny green leaf comes out, and why the birds go to warmer countries,
+because they cannot stand snow and sleet, and return again; why the bee
+shuts himself up in the hollow tree and sleeps, and a hundred beautiful
+things. And when I come back we will talk them over."
+
+"O Monsieur!" Her rose lips quivered and the dimple in her chin deepened
+as she drew a long breath that stirred every pulse of her being.
+
+He had touched the right chord, awakened a new life within her. There
+was a struggle, yet he liked her the better for not giving up her
+individuality in a moment.
+
+"Monsieur," she exclaimed with a new humility, "I will try--indeed I
+will."
+
+"That is a brave girl. M. Loisel will attend to the matter. And you will
+be very happy after a while. It will come hard at first, but you must be
+courageous and persevering. And now I must say good-by for a long while.
+Pani I know will take excellent care of you."
+
+He rose and shook hands with the woman, whose eyes were full of love for
+the child of her adoption. Then he took both of Jeanne's little brown
+hands in his and pressed them warmly.
+
+She watched him as he threaded his way through the narrow street and
+turned the corner. Then she rushed into the house and threw herself on
+the small pallet, sobbing as if her heart would break. No one for whom
+she cared had ever gone out of her life before. With Pani there was
+complete ownership, but Monsieur St. Armand was a new experience.
+Neither had she really loved her playmates, she had found them all so
+different from herself. Next to Pani stood Wenonah and the grave
+brown-faced babies who tumbled about the floor when they were not
+fastened to their birch bark canoe cradle with a flat end balancing it
+against the wall. She sometimes kissed them, they were so quaint and
+funny.
+
+"_Ma mie, ma mie_, let me take thee to my bosom," Pani pleaded. "He will
+return again as he said, for he keeps his word. And thou wilt be a big
+girl and know many things, and he will be proud of thee. And M.
+Bellestre may come."
+
+Jeanne's sobs grew less. She had been thrust so suddenly into a new
+world of tender emotion that she was frightened. She did not want to go
+out again, and sat watching Pani as she made some delicious broth out of
+fresh green corn, that was always a great treat to the child.
+
+It was true there was a new stir in the atmosphere of old Detroit. For
+General Wayne with the prescience of an able and far-sighted patriot had
+said, "To make good citizens they must learn the English language and
+there must be schools. Education will be the corner stone of this new
+country."
+
+Governor St. Clair had a wide territory to look after. There were many
+unsettled questions about land and boundaries and proper laws. New
+settlements were projected, but Detroit was left to adjust many
+questions for itself. A school was organized where English and various
+simple branches should be taught. It was opposed by Father Gilbert, who
+insisted that all the French Catholics should be sent to the Recollet
+house, and trained in Church lore exclusively. But the wider knowledge
+was necessary since there were so many who could not read, and the laws
+and courts would be English.
+
+The school session was half a day. The better class people had a few
+select schools, and sometimes several families joined and had their
+children taught at the house of some parent and shared expenses.
+
+Jeanne felt like a wild thing caught and thrust into a cage. There were
+disputes and quarrels, but she soon established a standing for herself.
+The boys called her Indian, and a name that had been flung at her more
+than once--tiger cat.
+
+"You will see that I can scratch," she rejoined, threateningly.
+
+"I will learn English, Pani, and no one shall interfere. M. Loisel said
+if I went to the sisters on Wednesday and Friday afternoons that Father
+Rameau would be satisfied. He is nice and kindly, but I hate Father
+Gilbert. And," laughingly, "I think they are all afraid of M. Bellestre.
+Do you suppose he will take me home with him when he comes? I do not
+want to leave Detroit."
+
+Pani sighed. She liked the old town as well.
+
+Jeanne flew to the woods when school was over. She did envy the Indian
+girls their freedom for they were not trained in useful arts as were the
+French girls. Oh, the frolics in the woods, the hunting of berries and
+grapes, the loads of beautiful birch and ash bark, the wild flowers that
+bloomed until frost came! and the fields turning golden with the
+ripening corn, secure from Indian raids! The thrifty French farmers
+watched it with delight.
+
+Marie De Ber had been kept very busy since the spinning began. Madame
+thought schooling shortsighted business except for boys who would be
+traders by and by, and must learn how to reckon correctly and do a
+little writing.
+
+They went after the last gleaning of berries one afternoon, when the
+autumn sunshine turned all to gold.
+
+"O Marie," cried Jeanne, "here is a harvest! Come at once, and if you
+want them don't shout to anyone."
+
+"O Jeanne, how good you are! For you might have called Susanne, who goes
+to school, and I have thought you liked her better than you do me."
+
+"No, I do not like her now. She pinched little Jacques Moet until he
+cried out and then she laid it to Pierre Dessau, who was well thrashed
+for it, and I called her a coward. I am afraid girls are not brave."
+
+"Come nearer and let us hide in this thicket. For if I do not get a big
+lot of berries mother will send Rose next time, she threatened."
+
+"You can have some of mine. Pani will not care; for she never scolds at
+such a thing."
+
+"Pani is very good to you. Mother complains that she spoils you and that
+you are being brought up like a rich girl."
+
+Jeanne laughed. "Pani never struck me in my life. She isn't quite like a
+mother, you see, but she loves me, loves me!" with emphasis.
+
+"There are so many for mother to love," and the girl sighed.
+
+"Jeanne," she began presently, "I want to tell you something. Mother
+said I must not mention it until it was quite settled. There is--some
+one--he has been at father's shop and--and is coming on Sunday to see
+mother--"
+
+Jeanne stood up suddenly. "It is Martin Lavosse," she said. "You danced
+with him. He is so gay. O Marie!" and her face was alight.
+
+"No, it is not Martin. I would not mind if it were. But he is so young,
+only eighteen."
+
+"You are young, too."
+
+Marie sighed again. "You have not seen him. It is Antoine Beeson. He is
+a boat builder, and has been buying some of the newly surveyed land down
+at the southern end. Father has known him quite a long while. His sister
+has married and gone to Frenchtown. He is lonely and wants a wife."
+
+"But there are many girls looking for husbands," hesitated Jeanne, not
+knowing whether to approve or oppose; and Marie's husband was such a new
+idea.
+
+"So father says. And we have five girls, you know. Rose is as tall as I
+and has a prettier face and dances like a sprite. And there are so many
+of the fur hunters and traders who drink and spend their money, and
+sometimes beat their wives. Margot Beeson picked out a wife for him, but
+he said she was too old. It was Lise Moet."
+
+Jeanne laughed. "I should not want to live with her, her voice goes
+through your head like a knife. She is little Jacques' aunt and the
+children are all afraid of her. How old is Antoine?"
+
+"Twenty-eight!" in a low, protesting tone.
+
+"Just twice as old as you!" said Jeanne with a little calculation.
+
+"Yes, I can't help but think of it. And when I am thirty he will be an
+old man sixty years old, bent down and wrinkled and cross, maybe."
+
+"O no, Marie," cried Jeanne, eagerly. "It is not that way one reckons.
+Everything does not double up so fast. He is fourteen years older than
+you, and when you are thirty he can only be fourteen years older than
+you. Count up on your ten fingers--that makes forty, and four more, he
+will be forty-four."
+
+Marie's mouth and eyes opened in surprise. "Are you quite sure?" with an
+indrawn breath.
+
+"O yes, sure as that the river runs to the lake. It is what they teach
+at school. And though it is a great trouble to make yourself remember,
+and you wonder what it is all about, then at other times you can use the
+knowledge and are happy and glad over it. There are so many queer
+things," smiling a little. "And they are not in the catechism or the
+prayers. The sisters shake their heads over them."
+
+"But can they be quite right?" asked Marie in a kind of awesome tone.
+
+"Why they seem right for the men to know," laughed Jeanne. "How else
+could they be bartering and counting money? And it is said that Madame
+Ganeau goes over her husband's books every week since they found Jules
+Froment was a thief, and kept wrong accounts, putting the money in his
+own pocket."
+
+Jeanne raised her voice triumphantly.
+
+"Oh, here they are!" cried Cecile followed by a string of girls. "And
+look, they have found a harvest, their pails are almost full. You mean,
+selfish things!"
+
+"Why you had the same right to be hunting everywhere," declared Jeanne
+stoutly. "We found a good place and we picked--that is all there is of
+it."
+
+"But you might have called us."
+
+Jeanne laughed in a tantalizing manner.
+
+"O Jeanne Angelot, you think yourself some great things because you live
+inside the stockade and go to a school where they teach all manner of
+lies to the children. Your place is out in some Indian wigwam. You're
+half Indian, anyhow."
+
+"Look at us!" Jeanne made a sudden bound and placed herself beside
+Cecile, whose complexion was swarthy, her hair straight, black, and
+rather coarse, and her dark eyes had a yellowish tinge, even to the
+whites. "Perhaps I am the descendant of some Indian princess--I should
+be proud of it, for the Indians once held all this great new world; and
+the French and English could not hold it."
+
+There was a titter among the girls. Never had Jeanne looked prouder or
+handsomer, and Cecile's broad nose distended with anger while her lips
+were purple. She was larger but she did not dare attack Jeanne, for she
+knew the nature and the prowess of the tiger cat.
+
+"Let us go home; it gets late," cried one of the girls, turning her
+companion about.
+
+"O Jeanne," whispered Marie, "how splendid you are! No husband would
+ever dare beat you."
+
+"I should tear out his eyes if he did."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+LOVERS AND LOVERS.
+
+
+There were days when Jeanne Angelot thought she should smother in the
+stuffy school, and the din of the voices went through her head like the
+rushing noise of a whirlwind. She had stolen out of the room once or
+twice and had not been called to an account for it. Then one day she saw
+a boy whipped severely for the same thing. Children were so often beaten
+in those days, and yet the French habitans were very fond of their
+offspring.
+
+Jeanne lingered after the children made their clumsy bows and shuffled
+out.
+
+"Well, what is it?" asked the gruff master.
+
+"Monsieur, you whipped the Dorien boy for running away from school."
+
+"Yes, and I'll do it again. I'll break up the bad practice. Their
+parents send them to school. They do a mean, dishonest thing and then
+they lie about it. Don't come sniveling to me about Dorien."
+
+"Monsieur, I was not going to snivel for anybody. You were right to keep
+your word. If you had promised a holiday and not given it to us we
+should have felt that you were mean and not of your word. So what is
+right for one side is right for the other."
+
+He looked over the tops of his glasses, and he made deep wrinkles in
+his forehead to do it. His eyes were keen and sharp and disconcerted
+Jeanne a little.
+
+"Upon my word!" he ejaculated.
+
+Jeanne drew a long breath and was almost afraid to go on with her
+confession. Only she should not feel clean inside until she had uttered
+it.
+
+"There'd be no trouble teaching school if the pupils could see that.
+There'd be little trouble in the world if the people could see it. It is
+the good on my side, the bad shoved off on yours. Who taught you such a
+sense of fairness, of honesty?"
+
+If he could have gotten his grim face into smiling lines he would have
+done it. As it was it softened.
+
+"Monsieur, I wanted to tell you that I had not been fair. I ran out of
+school the second day. It was like daggers going through my head and
+there were stars before my eyes and such a ringing in my ears! So I ran
+out of doors, clear out to the woods and stayed there up in a high tree
+where the birds sang to me and the wind made music among the leaves and
+one could almost look through the blue sky where the white boats went
+sailing. I thought I would not come to school any more."
+
+"Well--you did though." He was trying to think who this strange child
+was.
+
+"You see I had promised. And I wanted to learn English and many other
+things that are not down in the prayers and counting beads. Pani said it
+was wrong. So I came back. You did not know I had run away, Monsieur."
+
+"No, but there was no rule then. I should have been glad if half of them
+had run away."
+
+He gave a chuckle and a funny gleam shone out of his eye, and there was
+a curl in his lip as if the amusement could not get out.
+
+Jeanne wanted to smile. She should never be afraid of him again.
+
+"And there was another time--"
+
+"How many more?"
+
+"No more. For Pani said, 'Would you like to tell Monsieur St.
+Armand?'--and I knew I should be ashamed."
+
+A delicate flush stole over her face, going up to the tangle of rings on
+her forehead. What a pretty child she was!
+
+"Monsieur St. Armand?" inquiringly.
+
+"He was here in the summer. He has gone to Paris. And he wanted me to
+study. It is hard and sometimes foolishness, but then people are so much
+nicer who know a great many things."
+
+"Oh," he said thoughtfully, "you live with an Indian woman up by the
+barracks? It is Monsieur Loisel's protégée?" and he gave her an
+inquiring look.
+
+"Monsieur, I would like to know what a protégée is," with a puzzled
+look.
+
+"Some one, generally a child, in whom you take an interest."
+
+She gave a thoughtful nod, then a quick joy flamed up in her face. She
+was Monsieur St. Armand's protégée and she was very glad.
+
+"You are a courageous child. I wish the boys were as brave. I hate
+lying;" the man said after a pause.
+
+"O M'sieu, there are a great many cowardly people--do you not think so?"
+she returned naïvely.
+
+He really smiled then, and gave several emphatic nods at her youthful
+discrimination.
+
+"And you think you will not run away any more?"
+
+"No, Monsieur, because--it is wrong."
+
+"Then we must excuse you."
+
+"Thank you, Monsieur. I wanted you to know. Now I can feel light
+hearted."
+
+She made a pretty courtesy and half turned.
+
+"If you did not mind I should like to hear something about your Monsieur
+St. Armand, that is, if you are not in a hurry to get home to your
+dinner."
+
+"Oh, Pani will wait."
+
+She told her story eagerly, and he saw the wish to please this friend
+who had shown such an interest in her was a strong incentive. But she
+had a desire for knowledge beside that. So many of the children were
+stupid and hated study. He would watch over her and see that she
+progressed. This, no doubt, was the friend M. Loisel had spoken of.
+
+"You have been very good to me, M'sieu," she said with another courtesy
+as she turned away.
+
+Several days had elapsed before she saw Marie again, for Madame De Ber
+rather discountenanced the intimacy now. She had not much opinion of the
+school; the sisters and the priests could teach all that was necessary.
+And Jeanne still ran about like a wild deer, while Marie was a woman.
+
+On Sunday Antoine Beeson came to pay his respects to Madame, the mamma.
+He surely could not be considered a young girl's ideal,--short, stout,
+red-faced from exposure to wind and water and sun, his thick brown hair
+rather long, though he had been clean shaven the evening before. He wore
+his best deerskin breeches, his gray sort of blouse with a red belt, and
+low, clumsy shoes with his father's buckles that had come from France,
+and he was duly proud of them. His gay bordered handkerchief and his
+necktie were new for the occasion.
+
+Monsieur De Ber had satisfied himself that he would make a good
+son-in-law.
+
+"For you see there is the house all ready, and now the servant has no
+head and is idle and wasteful. I cannot stand such work. I wish your
+daughter was two or three years older, since I cannot go back myself,"
+the admirer exclaimed rather regretfully.
+
+"Marie will be fifteen in the spring. She has been well trained, being
+the eldest girl, and Madame is a thrifty and excellent housekeeper. Then
+we all mend of youth. You will have a strong, healthy woman to care for
+you in your old age, instead of a decrepit body to be a burthen to you."
+
+"That is well thought of, De Ber;" and the suitor gave a short chuckle.
+There was wisdom in the idea.
+
+Madame had sent Marie and Rose out to walk with the children. She knew
+she should accept the suitor, for her husband had said:--
+
+"It is quite a piece of luck, since there are five girls to marry off.
+And there's many a one who would jump at the chance. Then we shall not
+have to give Marie much dowry beside her setting out. It is not like
+young people beginning from the very hearthstone."
+
+She met the suitor with a friendly greeting as if he were an ordinary
+visitor, and they talked of the impending changes in the town, the
+coming of the Americans, the stir in business prospects, M. Beeson was
+not much of a waster of words, and he came to the point presently.
+
+"It will be hard to spare Marie," she said with an accent of regret.
+"Being the eldest she has had a great deal of experience. She is like a
+mother to the younger ones. She has not been spending her time in
+fooling around idly and dancing and being out on the river, like so many
+girls. Rose is not worth half of Marie, and I do not see how I shall
+ever get the trifler trained to take Marie's place. But there need be no
+immediate haste."
+
+"O Madame, we can do our courting afterward. I can take Mam'selle out to
+the booths Saturday night, and we can look at the dancing. There will be
+all day Sunday when I am at liberty. But you see there is the house
+going to wrack, the servant spending my money, and the discomfort. I
+miss my sister so much. And I thought we would not make a long story.
+Dear Madame, you must see the need."
+
+"It is sad to be sure. But you see Marie being so young and kept rather
+close, not having any admirers, it takes us suddenly. And the wedding
+gear--"
+
+"Mam'selle always looks tidy. But I suppose a girl wants some show at
+the church and the maids. Well, one doesn't get married many times in
+one's life. But I would like it to be by Christmas. It will be a little
+dull with me no doubt, and toward spring it is all hurry and drive,
+Antoine here and Antoine there. New boats and boats to be patched and
+canoes and dugouts. Then the big ships are up for repairs. I have worked
+moonlight nights, Madame. And Christmas is a pleasurable time."
+
+"Yes, a pleasant time for a girl to remember. I was married at
+Pentecost. And there was the great procession. Dear! dear! It is not
+much over seventeen years ago and we have nine children."
+
+"Pierre is a big lad, Madame, and a great help to his father. Children
+are a pleasure and comfort in one's old age if they do well. And thine
+are being well brought up. Marie is so good and steady. It is not wisdom
+for a man like me to choose a flighty girl."
+
+"Marie will make a good wife," returned Madame, confidently.
+
+And so when Marie returned it was all settled and Antoine had been
+invited to tea. Marie was in a desperate flutter. Of course there was
+nothing for her to say and she would not have had the courage to say it
+if there had been. But she could not help comparing him with Martin
+Lavosse, and some of the young men who greeted her at church. If his
+face were not quite so red, and his figure so clumsy! His hands, too,
+were broad with stubby ends to the fingers. She looked at her own; they
+were quite shapely, for youth has a way of throwing off the marks of
+toil that are ready enough to come back in later life.
+
+"_Ma fille_," said her mother when the lover had wished them all good
+night, rather awkwardly, and her father had gone out to walk with him;
+"_ma fille_, Monsieur Beeson has done us the honor to ask for thy hand.
+He is a good, steady, well-to-do man with a nice home to take thee to.
+He does not carouse nor spend his money foolishly, but will always stay
+at home with thee, and make thee happy. Many a girl will envy thy lot.
+He wants the wedding about Christmas time, so the betrothal will be
+soon, in a week or so. Heaven bless and prosper thee, my child! A good
+daughter will not make an ill wife. Thy father is very proud."
+
+Rose and Marie looked unutterable things at each other when they went to
+bed. There were little pitchers in the trundle-bed, and their parents in
+the next room.
+
+"If he were not so old!" whispered Rose.
+
+"And if he could dance! But with that figure!"
+
+"Like a buffalo!" Marie's protest forced its way up from her heart. "And
+I have just begun to think of things that make one happy. There will be
+dances at Christmastide."
+
+"I wonder if one is sure to love one's husband," commented Rose.
+
+"It would be wicked not to. But how does one begin? I am so afraid of
+his loud voice."
+
+"Girls, cease whispering and go to sleep. The night will be none too
+long," called their mother.
+
+Marie wiped some tears from her eyes. But it was a great comfort to her
+when she was going to church the next Sunday and walking behind the
+Bronelle girls to hear Hortense say:--
+
+"I have my cap set for Tony Beeson. His sister has kept close watch of
+him, but now he is free. I was down to the dock on Friday, and he was
+very cordial and sent a boy over the river with me in a canoe and would
+take no pay. Think of that! I shall make him walk home with me if I
+can."
+
+Marie De Ber flushed. Some one would be glad to have him. At first she
+half wished he had chosen Hortense, then a bit of jealousy and a bit of
+triumph surged through her slow pulses.
+
+Antoine Beeson walked home on the side of M. De Ber. The children old
+enough to go to church were ranged in a procession behind. Pierre
+guarded his sisters. Jeanne was on the other side of the street with
+Pani, but the distance was so small that she glanced across with
+questioning eyes. Marie held her head up proudly.
+
+"I do believe," began Jeanne when they had turned out of St Anne's
+street, "that Marie De Ber is going to be betrothed to that rough boat
+builder who walks beside her father."
+
+"Antoine Beeson has a good record, and she will do well," returned Pani
+briefly.
+
+"But I think it would not be easy to love him," protested Jeanne.
+
+"Child, you are too young to talk about love. It is the parents who
+decide such matters."
+
+"And I have none. You could not make me marry anyone, Pani. And I do not
+like these common men."
+
+"Heaven forbid! but I might advise."
+
+"I am not going to marry, you know. After all, maybe when I get old I
+will be a sister. It won't be hard to wear a black gown then. But I
+shall wait until I am _very_ old. Pani, did you ever dream of what might
+happen to you?"
+
+"The good God sends what is best for us, child."
+
+"But--Monsieur Bellestre might come. And if he took me away then
+Monsieur St. Armand might come. Pani, is Monsieur Bellestre as nice as
+Monsieur St. Armand? I cannot seem to remember him."
+
+"Little maids should not be thinking of men so often. Think of thy
+prayers, Jeanne."
+
+Sunday was a great time to walk on the parade ground, the young men
+attired in their best, the demoiselles gay as butterflies with a mother
+or married sister to guard them from too great familiarity. But there
+was much decorous coquetting on both sides, for even at that period many
+a young fellow was caught by a pair of smiling eyes.
+
+Others went to walk in the woods outside the farms or sailing on the
+river, since there was no Puritan strictness. They did their duty by the
+morning mass and service, and the rest of the day was given over to
+simple pleasure. There was a kind of half religious hilarity in the very
+air.
+
+And the autumn was so magnificently beautiful. The great hillsides with
+their tracts of timber that looked as if they fenced in the world when
+the sun dropped down behind them, but if one threaded one's way through
+the dark aisles and came out on the other side there were wonderful
+pictures,--small prairies or levels that suggested lakes and then a sort
+of avenue stretching out until another was visible, undulating surfaces,
+groves of pine, burr oak, and great stalwart hickories, then another
+woody ridge, and so on and on through interminable tangles and over
+rivers until Lake Michigan was reached. But not many of the habitans, or
+even the English, for that matter, had traveled to the other side of the
+state. The business journeys called them northward. There were Indian
+settlements about that were not over friendly.
+
+Jeanne liked the outside world better. She was not old enough for smiles
+and smirks or an interest in fine clothes. So when she said, "Come,
+Pani," the woman rose and followed.
+
+"To the tree?" she asked as they halted a little.
+
+"To the big woods," smilingly.
+
+The cottages were many of them framed in with vines and high pickets,
+and pear and apple orchards surrounded them, whose seed and, in some
+instances, cuttings had been brought from France; roses, too, whose
+ancestors had blossomed for kings and queens. Here and there was an oak
+turned ruddy, a hickory hanging out slender yellow leaves, or a maple
+flaunting a branch of wondrous scarlet. The people had learned to
+protect and defend themselves from murderous Indian raids, or in this
+vicinity the red men had proved more friendly.
+
+Pierre De Ber came shambling along. He had grown rapidly and seemed
+loose jointed, but he had a kindly, honest face where ignorance really
+was simplicity.
+
+"You fly over the ground, Jeanne!" he exclaimed out of breath. The day
+was very warm for September. "Here I have been trying to catch up to
+you--"
+
+"Yes, Mam'selle, I am tired myself. Let us sit down somewhere and rest,"
+said Pani.
+
+"Just to this little hillock. Pani, it would make a hut with the
+clearing inside and the soft mosses. If you drew the branches of the
+trees together it would make thatching for the roof. One could live
+here."
+
+"O Mam'selle,--the Indians!" cried Pierre.
+
+Jeanne laughed. "The Indians are going farther and farther away. Now,
+Pani, sit down here. Then lean back against this tree. And now you may
+take a good long rest. I am going to talk to the chipmunks and the
+birds, and find flowers."
+
+Pani drew up her knees, resting on her feet as a brace. The soft air had
+made her sleepy as well, and she closed her eyes.
+
+"It is so beautiful," sighed Jeanne. "Something rises within me and I
+want to fly. I want to know what strange lands there are beyond the
+clouds. And over there, far, farther than one can think, is a big ocean
+no one has ever seen. It is on the map. And this way," inclining her
+head eastward, "is another. That is where you go to France."
+
+"But I shall never go to France," said the literal youth. "I want to go
+up to Michilimackinac, and there is the great Lake Huron. That is
+enough for me. If the ocean is any bigger I do not want to see it."
+
+"It is, oh, miles and hundreds of miles bigger! And it takes more than a
+month to go. The master showed me on a map."
+
+"Well, I don't care for that," pulling the leaves off a branch he had
+used for a switch.
+
+The rough, rugged, and sometimes cross face of the master was better,
+because his eyes had a wonderful light in them. What made people so
+different? Apples and pears and ears of corn generally grew one like the
+other. And pigs--she smiled to herself. And the few sheep she had seen.
+But people could think. What gave one the thinking power? In the brain
+the master said. Did every one have brains?
+
+"Jeanne, I have something wonderful to tell you."
+
+"Oh, I think I know it! Marie has a lover."
+
+He looked disappointed. "Who told you?"
+
+"No one really told me. I saw Monsieur Beeson walking home with your
+father. And Marie was afraid--"
+
+"Afraid!" the boy gave a derisive laugh. "Well, she is no longer afraid.
+They are going to be betrothed on Michaelmas eve. Tony is a good
+fellow."
+
+"Then if Marie is--satisfied--"
+
+"Why shouldn't she be satisfied? Father says it is a great chance, for
+you see she can really have no dowry, there are so many of us. We must
+all wait for our share until father has gone."
+
+"Gone? Where?" She looked up in surprise.
+
+"Why, when he is dead. Everybody has to die, you know. And then the
+money they leave is divided."
+
+Jeanne nodded. It shocked her in a vague sort of fashion, and she was
+glad Pani had no money.
+
+"And Tony Beeson has a good house and a good business. I like him," the
+boy said, doggedly.
+
+"Yes," assentingly. "But Marie is to marry him."
+
+"Oh, the idea!" Pierre laughed immoderately. "Why a man always marries a
+woman."
+
+"But your liking wouldn't help Marie."
+
+"Oh, Marie is all right. She will like him fast enough. And it will be
+gay to have a wedding. That is to be about Christmas."
+
+Jeanne was looking down the little slant to the cottages and the
+wigwams, and speculating upon the queerness of marriage.
+
+"I wish I had made as much fortune as Tony Beeson. But then I'm only a
+little past sixteen, and in five years I shall be twenty-one. Then I am
+going to have a wife and house of my own."
+
+"O Pierre!" Jeanne broke into a soft laugh.
+
+"Yes, Jeanne--" turning very red.
+
+The girl was looking at him in a mirthful fashion and it rather
+disconcerted him.
+
+"You won't mind waiting, Jeanne--"
+
+"I shan't mind waiting, but if you mean--" her cheeks turned a deeper
+scarlet and she made a little pause--"if you mean marrying I should mind
+that a good deal;" in a decisive tone.
+
+"But not to marry me? You have known me always."
+
+"I should mind marrying anyone. I shouldn't want to sweep the house, and
+cook the meals, and wash, and tend babies. I want to go and come as I
+like. I hated school at first, but now I like learning and I must crack
+the shell to get at the kernel, so you see that is why I make myself
+agree with it."
+
+"You cannot go to school always. And while you are there I shall be up
+to the Mich making some money."
+
+"Oh," with a vexed crease in her forehead, "I told you once before not
+to talk of this--the day we were all out in the boat, you remember. And
+if you go on I shall hate you; yes, I shall."
+
+"I shall go on," said the persistent fellow. "Not very often, perhaps,
+but I thought if you were one of the maids at Marie's wedding and I
+could wait on you--"
+
+"I shall not be one of the maids." She rose and stamped her foot on the
+ground. "Your mother does not like me any more. She never asks me to
+come in to tea. She thinks the school wicked. And you must marry to
+please her, as Marie is doing. So it will not be me;" she declared with
+emphasis.
+
+"Oh, I know. That Louis Marsac will come back and you will marry him."
+
+The boy's eyes flamed with jealousy and his whole face gloomed over with
+cruelty. "And then I shall kill him. I couldn't stand it," he
+continued.
+
+"I hate Louis Marsac! I hate you, Pierre De Ber!" she cried vehemently.
+
+The boy fell at her feet and kissed the hem of her frock, for she
+snatched away her hands.
+
+"No, don't hate me. I'm glad to have you hate him."
+
+"Get up, or I shall kick you," she said viciously.
+
+"O Jeanne, don't be angry! I'll wait and wait. I thought you had
+forgotten, or changed somehow. You have been so pleasant. And you smiled
+so at me this morning. I know you have liked me--"
+
+"If ever you say another word--" raising her hand.
+
+"I won't unless you let me. You see you are not grown up yet, but
+sometimes people are betrothed when they are little children--"
+
+She put her fingers in her ears and spun round and round, going down the
+little decline. Then she remembered Pani, who had fallen asleep. She
+motioned to Pierre.
+
+"Go home," she commanded as he came toward her. "And if you ever talk
+about this to me again I shall tell your father. I am not for anybody. I
+shall not mind if I am one of St. Catherine's maids."
+
+"Jeanne--"
+
+"Go!" She made an imperative motion with her hand.
+
+He walked slowly away. She started like a mad thing and ran through the
+woods at the top of her speed until her anger had vanished.
+
+"Poor Pierre," she said. "This talk of marriage has set him crazy. But
+I could never like him, and Madame Mère just hates me."
+
+She went slowly back to Pani and sat down by her side. How tired she
+looked!
+
+"And I dragged her way up here," she thought remorsefully. "I'm glad she
+didn't wake up."
+
+So she sat there patiently and let the woman finish her nap. But her
+beautiful thoughts were gone and her mind was shadowed by something
+grave and strange that she shrank from. Then Pani stirred.
+
+"O child, I've been sleeping stupidly and you have not gathered a
+flower--" looking at the empty hands. "Have you been here all the time?"
+
+"No matter. Pani, am I a tyrant dragging you everywhere?" Her voice was
+touching with regret.
+
+"No, _cherie_. But sometimes I feel old. I've lived a great many years."
+
+"How many?"
+
+"Oh, I cannot count them up. But I am rested now. Shall we walk about a
+little and get my knees limber? Where is Pierre?"
+
+"He went home. Pani, it is true Marie is to be betrothed to M'sieu
+Beeson, and married at Christmastide."
+
+"And if the sign holds good Madame De Ber will be fortunate in marrying
+off her girls, for, if the first hangs on, it is bad for the rest. Rose
+will be much prettier, and no doubt have lovers in plenty. But it is not
+always the prettiest that make the best wives. Marie is sensible. They
+will have a grand time."
+
+"And I shall not be counted in," the child said proudly.
+
+"Jeanne, little one--" in surprise.
+
+"Madame does not like me because I go to the heretic school. And--I do
+not sew nor spin, nor sweep the house--"
+
+"There is no need," interrupted Pani.
+
+"No, since I do not mean to have a husband."
+
+And yet--how amusing it was--a boy and a man were ready to quarrel over
+her. Did ever any little girl have two lovers?
+
+"Ah, little one, smile over it now, but thou wilt change presently when
+the right bird whistles through the forest."
+
+"I will not come for any man's whistle."
+
+"That is only a saying, dear."
+
+They walked down the hill. Cheerful greetings met them and Pani was
+loaded with fruit. At the hut of Wenonah, the mistress insisted upon
+their coming in to supper and Jeanne consented for them both. For,
+although the bell rang, the gates were no longer closed at six.
+
+Marie De Ber made several efforts to see her friend, but her mother's
+watchful eye nipped them in the bud. One Friday afternoon they met.
+Wednesday following was to be the betrothal.
+
+"I wanted to explain--" Marie flushed and hesitated. "There have been
+many guests asked, and they are mostly older people--"
+
+"Yes, I know. I am only a child, and your mother does not approve. Then
+I go to the heretic school."
+
+"She thinks the school a bad thing. And about the maids--"
+
+"I could not be one of them," Jeanne said stiffly.
+
+"Mother has chosen them, I had no say. She manages everything. When I
+have my own home I shall do as I like and invite whom I choose. Mother
+thinks I do not know anything and have no mind, but, Jeanne, I love you,
+and I am not afraid of what you learn at school. Monsieur Beeson said it
+was a good thing. And you will not be angry with me?"
+
+"No, no, Marie." The child's heart was touched.
+
+"We will be friends afterward. I shall tell M'sieu Beeson how long we
+have cared for each other."
+
+"You--like him?" hesitatingly.
+
+"He is very kind. And girls cannot choose. I wish he were younger, but
+it will be gay at Christmastide, and my own home will be much to me.
+Yes, we will wait until then. Jeanne, kiss me for good luck. You are
+quite sure you are not angry?"
+
+"Oh, very sure."
+
+The two girls kissed each other and Jeanne cried, "Good luck! good
+luck!" But all the same she felt Marie was going out of her life and it
+would leave a curious vacancy.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+A TOUCH OF FRIENDSHIP.
+
+
+How softly the bells rang out for the service of St. Michael and All
+Angels! The river flowing so tranquilly seemed to carry on the melody
+and then bring back a faint echo. It was a great holiday with the
+French. The early mass was thronged, somehow the virtue seemed greater
+if one went to that. Then there was a procession that marched to the
+little chapels outside, which were hardly more than shrines.
+
+Pani went out early and alone. And though the good priest had said to
+her, "The child is old enough and should be confirmed," since M.
+Bellestre had some objections and insisted that Jeanne should not be
+hurried into any sacred promises, and the child herself seemed to have
+no desire, they waited.
+
+"But you peril the salvation of her soul. Since she has been baptized
+she should be confirmed," said Father Rameau. "She is a child of the
+Church. And if she should die!"
+
+"She will not die," said Pani with a strange confidence, "and she is to
+decide for herself."
+
+"What can a child know!"
+
+"Then if she cannot know she must be blameless. Monsieur Bellestre was a
+very good man. And, M'sieu, some who come to mass, to their shame be it
+said, cheat their neighbors and get drunk, and tempt others to drink."
+
+"Most true, but that doesn't lessen our duty."
+
+M. Bellestre had not come yet. This time a long illness had intervened.
+
+Jeanne went out in the procession and sang in the hymns and the rosary.
+And she heard about the betrothal. The house had been crowded with
+guests and Marie had on a white frock and a beautiful sash, and her hair
+was curled.
+
+In spite of her protests Jeanne did feel deeply hurt that she should be
+left out. Marie had made a timid plea for her friend.
+
+"We cannot ask all the children in the town," said her mother
+emphatically. "And no one knows whether she has any real position. She
+is a foundling, and no company for you."
+
+Pani went down the river with her in the afternoon. She was gayety
+itself, singing little songs and laughing over everything so that she
+quite misled her nurse into thinking that she really did not care. Then
+she made Pani tell some old legends of the spirits who haunted the lakes
+and rivers, and she added to them some she had heard Wenonah relate.
+
+"I should like to live down in some depths, one of the beautiful caves
+where there are gems and all lovely things," said the child.
+
+"As if there were not lovely things in the forests. There are no birds
+in the waters. And fishes are not as bright and merry as squirrels."
+
+"That is true enough. I'll stay on the earth a little while longer,"
+laughingly. "But look at the lovely colors. O Pani, how many beautiful
+things there are! And yet Berthê Campeau is going to Quebec to become a
+nun and be shut out of it. How can you praise God for things you do not
+see and cannot enjoy? And is it such a good thing to suffer? Does God
+rejoice in the pain that he doesn't send and that you take upon
+yourself? Her poor mother will die and she will not be here to comfort
+her."
+
+Pani shook her head. The child had queer thoughts.
+
+"Pani, we must go and see Madame Campeau afterward. She will be very
+lonely. You would not be happy if I went away?"
+
+"O child!" with a quick cry.
+
+"So I am not going. If Monsieur Bellestre wants me he will take you,
+too."
+
+Pani nodded.
+
+They noted as they went down that a tree growing imprudently near the
+water's edge had fallen in. There was a little bend in the river, and it
+really was dangerous. So coming back they gave it a sensibly wide berth.
+
+A canoe with a young man in it came flying up. The sun had gone down and
+there were purple shadows about like troops of spirits.
+
+"Monsieur," the child cried, "do not hug the shore so much. There is
+danger."
+
+A gay laugh came back to them and he flashed on, his paddle poised at a
+most graceful angle.
+
+"O Monsieur!" with eager warning.
+
+The paddle caught. The dainty canoe turned over and floated out of reach
+with a slight gust of wind.
+
+"Monsieur"--Jeanne came nearer--"it was a fallen tree. It was so dusk I
+knew you could not see it."
+
+He was swimming toward them. "I wonder if you can help me recover my
+boat."
+
+"Monsieur, swim in to the shore and I will bring the canoe there." She
+was afraid to risk taking him in hers. "Just down below to escape the
+tree."
+
+"Oh, thank you. Yes, that will be best."
+
+His strokes were fine and strong even if he was encumbered by his
+clothing. Jeanne propelled her canoe along and drove the other in to
+shore, then caught it with a rope. He emerged from his bath and shook
+himself.
+
+"You have been very kind. I should have heeded your warning or asked you
+what it meant. And now--I have lost my paddle."
+
+"I have an extra one, Monsieur."
+
+"You are a godsend certainly. Lend it to me."
+
+He waded out, rescued his canoe and leaped adroitly into it. She was
+interested in the ease and grace.
+
+"That tree is a dangerous thing," he exclaimed.
+
+"They will remove it, Monsieur. It must have recently fallen in. The
+tide has washed the ground away."
+
+"It was quite a mishap, but owing to your quick thought I am not much
+the worse;" and he laughed. "I do not mind a wetting. As for the lost
+paddle that will break no one's heart. But I shall remember you with
+gratitude. May I ask your name?"
+
+"It is Jeanne Angelot," she said simply.
+
+"Oh, then I ought to know you--do know you a little. My father is the
+Sieur St. Armand."
+
+"Oh!" Jeanne gave a little cry of delight.
+
+"And I have a message for you. I was coming to find you to-morrow."
+
+"Monsieur may take cold in his wet clothes, Jeanne. We ought to go a
+little faster," said Pani. "The air is getting chilly here on the
+river."
+
+"If you do not mind I will hasten on. And to-morrow I shall be glad to
+come and thank you again and deliver my message."
+
+"Adieu," responded Jeanne, with a delicious gayety.
+
+He was off like a bird and soon out of sight. Jeanne drew her canoe up
+to a quiet part of the town, below the gate. The day was ending, as
+holidays often did, in a sort of carouse. Men were playing on fiddles,
+crowds of men and boys were dancing. By some flaring light others were
+playing cards or dominoes. The two threaded their way quickly along,
+Jeanne with her head and face nearly hidden by the big kerchief that was
+like a shawl.
+
+"How queer it was, Pani!" and she laughed. Her eyes were like stars in
+their pleasure. "And to think Monsieur St. Armand has sent me a message!
+Do you suppose he is in France? I asked the master to show me France--he
+has a map of these strange countries."
+
+"A map!" gasped Pani, as if it were an evil spirit.
+
+"Why, it is like a picture with lines all about it. This is France. This
+is Spain. And England, where the English come from. I should think they
+would--it is such a little place. Ever so many other countries as well.
+But after all I don't understand about their going round--"
+
+"Come and have some supper."
+
+"We should have seen him anyhow if he had not fallen into the river. And
+it was funny! If he had heeded what I said--it was lucky we saw the tree
+as we went down."
+
+"He will give due notice of it, no doubt. The water is so clear that it
+can easily be seen in the daytime. Otherwise I should feel troubled."
+
+Jeanne nodded with gay affirmation. She was in exuberant spirits, and
+could hardly eat.
+
+Then they sat out in the doorway, shaded somewhat by the clinging vines.
+From below there was a sound of music. Up at the Fort the band was
+playing. There was no moon, but the stars were bright and glittering in
+strange tints. Now and then a party rather merry with wine and whisky
+trolled out a noisy stave that had been imported from the mother country
+years ago about Jacques and his loves and his good wine.
+
+Presently the great bell clanged out. That was a signal for booths to
+shut, for deerhide curtains to be drawn. Some obstreperous soldiers were
+marched to the guardhouse. Some drunken revelers crept into a nook
+beside a storage box or hid in a tangle of vines to sleep until
+morning.
+
+But in many of the better class houses merriment and gayety went on
+while the outside decorousness was observed. There was a certain respect
+paid to law and the new rulers were not so arbitrary as the English had
+been. Also French prejudices were wearing slowly away while the real
+characteristics of the race remained.
+
+"I shall not go to school to-day," said Jeanne the next morning. "I will
+tell the master how it was, and he will pardon me. And I will get two
+lessons to-morrow, so the children will see that he does not favor me. I
+think they are sometimes jealous."
+
+She laughed brightly and went dancing about singing whatever sounds
+entered her mind. Now it was a call of birds, then a sharp high cry,
+anon a merry whistle that one might fancy came from the woods. She ran
+out and in, she looked up and down the narrow street with its crooks
+that had never been smoothed out, and with some houses standing in the
+very road as it were. Everything was crowded in the business part.
+
+Rose De Ber spied her out and came running up to greet her; tossing her
+head consequentially.
+
+"We had a gay time last night. I wish you could have peeped in the
+windows. But you know it was not for children, only grown people. Martin
+Lavosse danced ever so many times with me, but he moaned about Marie,
+and I said, 'By the time thou art old enough to marry she will have a
+houseful of babies, perhaps she will give you her first daughter,' and
+he replied, 'I shall not wait that length of time. There are still good
+fish in the lakes and rivers, but I am sorry to see her wed before she
+has had a taste of true life and pleasure.' And, Jeanne, I have resolved
+that mother shall not marry me off to the first comer."
+
+Jeanne nodded approval.
+
+"I do not see what has come over Pierre," she went on. "He was grumpy as
+a wounded bear last night and only a day or two ago he made such a
+mistake in reckoning that father beat him. And Monsieur Beeson and
+mother nearly quarreled over the kind of learning girls should have. He
+said every one should know how to read and write and figure a little so
+that she could overlook her husband's affairs if he should be ill. Marie
+is going to learn to read afterward, and she is greatly pleased."
+
+It was true that ignorance prevailed largely among the common people.
+The children were taught prayers and parts of the service and catechism
+orally, since that was all that concerned their souls' salvation, and it
+kept a wider distinction between the classes. But the jolly, merry
+Frenchman, used to the tradition of royalty, cared little. His place was
+at the end of the line and he enjoyed the freedom. He would not have
+exchanged his rough, comfortable dress for all the satin waistcoats,
+velvet small clothes and lace ruffles in the world. Like the Indian he
+had come to love his liberty and the absence of troublesome
+restrictions.
+
+But the English had brought in new methods, although education with them
+was only for the few. The colonist from New England made this a
+specialty. As soon as possible in a new settlement schools were
+established, but there were other restrictions before them and learning
+of most kinds had to fight its way.
+
+Jeanne saw her visitor coming up the street just as her patience was
+almost exhausted. She was struck with a sudden awe at the sight of the
+well dressed young man.
+
+"Did you think I would not keep my word?" he asked gayly.
+
+"But your father did," she answered gravely.
+
+"Ah, I am afraid I shall never make so fine a man. I have seen no one
+like him, Mam'selle, though there are many courageous and honorable men
+in the world. But you know I have not met everybody," laughing and
+showing white, even teeth between the red lips. "Good day!" to Pani, who
+invited him in into the room where she had set a chair for him.
+
+"I want to ask your pardon for my rudeness yesterday," bowing to the
+child and the woman. "Perhaps my handling of the canoe did not impress
+you with the idea of superior knowledge, but I have been used to it from
+boyhood, and have shot rapids, been caught in gales, oh, almost
+everything!"
+
+"It was not that, Monsieur. We had seen the tree with its branches like
+so many clinging arms, and it was getting purple and dun as you came up,
+so we thought it best to warn."
+
+"And I obstinately ran right into danger, which shows how much good
+advice is thrown away. You see the paddle caught and over I went. But
+the first thing this morning some boatmen went down and removed it.
+However, I did not mind the wetting. It was not the first time."
+
+"And Monsieur did not take cold? The nights are chilly now along the
+river's edge. The sun slips down suddenly," was Pani's anxious comment.
+
+"Oh, no. I am inured to such things. I have been a traveler, too. It was
+a gay day yesterday, Mam'selle."
+
+"Yes," answered Jeanne. Yet she had felt strangely solitary. "Your
+father, Monsieur, is in France. I have been learning about that
+country."
+
+"Oh, no, not yet. There was some business in Washington. To-morrow I
+leave Detroit to rejoin him in New York, from which place we set sail,
+though the journey is a somewhat dangerous one now, what with pirate
+ships and England claiming a right of search. But we shall trust a good
+Providence."
+
+"You go also," she said with a touch of disappointment. It gave a
+bewitching gravity to her countenance.
+
+"Oh, yes. My father and I are never long apart. We are very fond of each
+other."
+
+"And your mother--" she asked hesitatingly.
+
+"I do not remember her, for I was an infant when she died. But my father
+keeps her in mind always. And I must give you his message."
+
+He took out a beautifully embossed leathern case with silver mountings
+and ran over the letters.
+
+"Ah--here. 'I want you to see my little friend, Jeanne Angelot, and
+report her progress to me. I hope the school has not frightened her.
+Tell her there are little girls in other cities and towns who are
+learning many wonderful things and will some day grow up into charming
+women such as men like for companions. It will be hard and tiresome, but
+she must persevere and learn to write so that she can send me a letter,
+which I shall prize very highly. Give her my blessing and say she must
+become a true American and honor the country of which we are all going
+to feel very proud in years to come. But with all this she must never
+outgrow her love for her foster mother, to whom I send respect, nor her
+faith in the good God who watches over and will keep her from all harm
+if she puts her trust in him.'"
+
+Jeanne gave a long sigh. "O Monsieur, it is wonderful that people can
+talk this way on paper. I have tried, but the master could not help
+laughing and I laughed, too. It was like a snail crawling about and the
+pen would go twenty ways as if there was an evil sprite in my fingers.
+But I shall keep on although it is very tiresome and I have such a
+longing to be out in the fields and woods, chasing squirrels and singing
+to the birds, which sometimes light on my shoulder. And I know a good
+many English words, but the reading looks so funny, as if there were no
+sense to it!"
+
+"But there is a great deal. You will be very glad some day. Then I may
+take a good account to him and tell him you are trying to obey his
+wishes?"
+
+"Yes, Monsieur, I shall be very glad to. And he will write me the letter
+that he promised?"
+
+"Indeed he will. He always keeps his promises. And I shall tell him you
+are happy and glad as a bird soaring through the air?"
+
+"Not always glad. Sometimes a big shadow falls over me and my breath
+throbs in my throat. I cannot tell what makes the strange feeling. It
+does not come often, and perhaps when I have learned more it will
+vanish, for then I can read books and have something for my thoughts.
+But I am glad a good deal of the time."
+
+"I don't wonder my father was interested in her," Laurent St. Armand
+thought. He studied the beautiful eyes with their frank innocence, the
+dainty mouth and chin, the proud, uplifted expression that indicated
+nobleness and no self-consciousness.
+
+"And now I must bid thee good-by with my own and my father's blessing.
+We shall return to America and find you again. You will hardly go away
+from Detroit?"
+
+She was quite ready at that moment to give up M. Bellestre's plans for
+her future.
+
+He took her hand. Then he pressed his lips upon it with the grave
+courtesy of a gentleman.
+
+"Adieu," he said softly. "Pani, watch well over her."
+
+The woman bowed her head with a deeper feeling than mere assent.
+
+Jeanne sat down on the doorstep, leaning her elbow on her knee and her
+chin in her hand. Grave thoughts were stirring within her, the
+awakening of a new life on the side she had seen, but never known. The
+beautiful young women quite different from the gay, chattering
+demoiselles, their proudly held heads, their dignity, their soft voices,
+their air of elegance and refinement, all this Jeanne Angelot felt but
+could not have put into words, not even into thought. And this young man
+was over on that side. Oh, all Detroit must lie between, from the river
+out to the farms! Could she ever cross the great gulf? What was it made
+the difference--education? Then she would study more assiduously than
+ever. Was this why Monsieur St. Armand was so earnest about her trying?
+
+She glanced down at her little brown hand. Oh, how soft and warm his
+lips had been, what a gentle touch! She pressed her own lips to it, and
+a delicious sensation sped through her small body.
+
+"What art thou dreaming about, Jeanne? Come to thy dinner."
+
+She glanced up with a smile. In a vague way she had known before there
+were many things Pani could not understand; now she felt the keen,
+far-reaching difference between them, between her and the De Bers, and
+Louis Marsac, and all the people she had ever known. But her mother, who
+could tell most about her, was dead.
+
+It was not possible for a glad young thing to keep in a strained mood
+that would have no answering comprehension, and Jeanne's love of nature
+was so overwhelming. Then the autumn at the West was so glowing, so
+full of richness that it stirred her immeasurably. She could hardly
+endure the confinement on some days.
+
+"What makes you so restless?" asked the master one noon when he was
+dismissing some scholars kept in until their slow wits had mastered
+their tasks. She, too, had been inattentive and willful.
+
+"I am part of the woods to-day, a chipmunk running about, a cricket
+which dares not chirp," and she glanced up into the stern eyes with a
+merry light, "a grasshopper who takes long strides, a bee who goes
+buzzing, a glad, gay bird who says to his mate, 'Come, let us go to the
+unknown land and spend a winter in idleness, with no nest to build, no
+hungry, crying babies to feed, nothing but just to swing in the trees
+and laugh with the sunshine.'"
+
+"Thou art a queer child. Come, say thy lesson well and we will spend the
+whole afternoon in the woods. Thou shalt consort with thy brethren the
+birds, for thou art brimming over."
+
+The others were dismissed with some added punishment. The master took
+out his luncheon. He was not overpaid, he had no family and lived by
+himself, sleeping in the loft over the school.
+
+"Oh, come home with me!" the child cried. "Pani's cakes of maize are so
+good, and no one cooks fish with such a taste and smell. It would make
+one rise in the middle of the night."
+
+"Will the tall Indian woman give me a welcome?"
+
+"Oh, Pani likes whomever I like;" with gay assurance.
+
+"And dost thou like me, child?"
+
+"Yes, yes." She caught his hand in both of hers. "Sometimes you are
+cross and make ugly frowns, and often I pity the poor children you beat,
+but I know, too, they deserve it. And you speak so sharp! I used to jump
+when I heard it, but now I only give a little start, and sometimes just
+smile within, lest the children should see it and be worse. It is a
+queer little laugh that runs down inside of one. Come, Pani will be
+waiting."
+
+She took his hand as they picked their way through the narrow streets,
+having to turn out now and then for a loaded wheelbarrow, or two men
+carrying a big plank on their shoulders, or a heavy burthen, one at each
+end. For there were some streets not even a wagon and two horses could
+get through.
+
+To the master's surprise Pani did not even seem put out as Jeanne
+explained the waiting. Had fish toasted before the coals ever tasted so
+good? The sagamite he had learned to tolerate, but the maize cakes were
+so excellent it seemed as if he could never get enough of them.
+
+The golden October sun lay warm everywhere and was tinting the hills and
+forests with richness that glowed and glinted as if full of life. Afar,
+one could see the shine of the river, the distant lake, the undulations
+where the tall trees did not cut it off. Crows were chattering and
+scolding. A great flock of wild geese passed over with their hoarse,
+mysterious cry, and shaped like two immense wings each side of their
+leader.
+
+"Now you shall tell me about the other countries where you have been,"
+and Jeanne dropped on the soft turf, motioning him to be seated.
+
+In all his journeying through the eastern part of the now United
+Colonies, he thought he had never seen a fairer sight than this. It
+warmed and cheered his old heart. And sure he had never had a more
+enraptured listener.
+
+But in a brief while the glory of wood and field was gone. The shriveled
+leaves were blown from the trees by the fierce gusts. The beeches stood
+like bare, trembling ghosts, the pines and firs with their rough dark
+tops were like great Indian wigwams and were enough to terrify the
+beholder. Sharp, shrill cries at night of fox and wolf, the rustle of
+the deer and the slow, clumsy tread of the bear, the parties of Indians
+drawing nearer civilization, braves who had roamed all summer in
+idleness returning to patient squaws, told of the approach of winter.
+
+New pickets were set about barns and houses, and coverings of skin made
+added warmth. The small flocks were carefully sheltered from marauding
+Indians. Doors and windows were hung with curtains of deer skins, floors
+were covered with buffalo or bear hide, and winter garments were brought
+out. Even inside the palisade one could see a great change in apparel
+and adornment. The booths were no longer invitingly open, but here and
+there were inns and places of evening resort where the air was not only
+enough to stifle one, but so blue with smoke you could hardly see your
+neighbor's face. No merry parties sang songs upon the river nor went up
+to the lake in picnic fashion.
+
+Still there was no lack of hearty good cheer. On the farms one and
+another gave a dance to celebrate some special occasion. There was
+husking corn and shelling it, there were meats and fish to be salted,
+some of it dried, for now the inhabitants within and without knew that
+winter was long and cold.
+
+They had sincerely mourned General Wayne. A new commandant had been
+sent, but the general government was poor and deeply in debt and there
+were many vexed questions to settle. So old Detroit changed very little
+under the new régime. There was some delightful social life around the
+older or, rather, more aristocratic part of the town, where several
+titled English people still remained. Fortnightly balls were given,
+dinners, small social dances, for in that time dancing was the amusement
+of the young as card playing was of the older ones.
+
+Then came days of whirling, blinding snow when one could hardly stir
+out, succeeded by sunshine of such brilliance that Detroit seemed a
+dazzle of gems. Parties had merry games of snowballing, there were
+sledging, swift traveling on skates and snowshoes, and if the days were
+short the long evenings were full of good cheer, though many a gruesome
+story was told of Pontiac's time, and the many evil times before that,
+and of the heroic explorers and the brave fathers who had gone to plant
+the cross and the lilies of France in the wilderness.
+
+Jeanne wondered that she should care so little for the defection of the
+De Bers. Pierre passed her with a sullen nod when he met her face to
+face and sometimes did not notice her at all. Marie was very important
+when she recovered from the surprise that a man should want to marry
+her, and that she should be the first of Delisse Graumont's maids to
+marry, she who was the youngest of them all.
+
+"I had a beau in my cup at the tea drinking, and he was holding out his
+hand, which was a sign that he would come soon. And, Rose, I mean to
+have a tea drinking. I hope you will get the beau."
+
+"I am in no hurry," and Rose tossed her pretty head.
+
+Marie and her mother went down to the Beeson house to see what
+plenishings were needed. It was below the inclosure, quite a farm, in
+the new part running down to the river, where there was a dock and a
+rough sort of basin, quite a boat yard, for Antoine Beeson had not yet
+aspired to anything very grand in ship building. They pulled out the
+great fur rugs and hangings and put the one up and the other down, and
+Antoine coming in was so delighted with the homelikeness that he caught
+his betrothed about the waist and whirled her round and round.
+
+"Really, I think some day I shall learn to dance," and he gave his
+broad, hearty laugh that Marie had grown quite accustomed to.
+
+Madame De Ber looked amazed and severe.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+CHRISTMAS AND A CONFESSION.
+
+
+Ah, how the bells rang out on Christmas morning! A soft, muffled sound
+coming through the roofs of white snow that looked like peaked army
+tents, the old Latin melody that had rejoiced many a heart and carried
+the good news round the world.
+
+It was still dark when Jeanne heard Pani stirring, and she sprang out of
+bed.
+
+"I am going to church with you, Pani," she declared in a tone that left
+no demur.
+
+"Ah, child, if thou hadst listened to the good father and been
+confirmed, then thou mightst have partaken of the mass."
+
+Jeanne almost wished she had. But the schoolmaster had strengthened her
+opposition, or rather her dread, a little, quite unknowingly, and yet he
+had given her more reverence and a longing for real faith.
+
+"But I shall be thinking of the shepherds and the glad tidings. I
+watched the stars last night, they were so beautiful. 'And they came and
+stood over the place,' the schoolmaster read it to me. That was way over
+the other side of the world, Pani."
+
+The Indian woman shook her head. She was afraid of this strange
+knowledge, and she had a vague idea that it must have happened here in
+Detroit, since the Christ was born anew every year.
+
+The stars were not all gone out of the sky. The crisp snow crunched
+under their feet, although the moccasins were soft and warm; and
+everybody was muffled in furs, even to hoods and pointed caps. Some
+people were carrying lanterns, but they could find their way, straight
+along St. Anne's street. The bell kept on until they stood in the church
+porch.
+
+"Thou wilt sit here, child."
+
+Jeanne made no protest. She rather liked being hidden here in the
+darkness.
+
+There were the De Bers, then Marie and her lover, then Rose and Pierre.
+How much did dull Pierre believe and understand? The master's faith
+seemed simpler to her.
+
+A little later was the regular Christmas service with the altar decked
+in white and gold and the two fathers in their beautiful robes of
+rejoicing, the candlesticks that had been sent from France a century
+before, burnished to their brightest and the candles lighted. Behind the
+screen the sisters and the children sang hymns, and some in the
+congregation joined, though the men were much more at home in the music
+of the violins and in the jollity.
+
+Jeanne felt strangely serious, and half wished she was among the
+children. It was the fear of having to become a nun that deterred her.
+She could not understand how Berthê Campeau could leave her ailing
+mother and go to Montreal for religion's sake. Madame Campeau was not
+able to stand the journey even if she had wanted to go, but she and her
+sister had had some differences, and, since Berthê would go, her son's
+wife had kindly offered to care for her.
+
+"And what there is left thou shalt have, Catherine," she said to her
+daughter-in-law. "None of my money shall go to Montreal. It would be
+only such a little while for Berthê to wait. I cannot last long."
+
+So she had said for three years and Berthê had grown tired of waiting.
+Her imagination fed on the life of devotion and exaltation that her aunt
+wrote about.
+
+At noon Marie De Ber was married. She shivered a little in her white
+gown, for the church was cold. Her veil fell all over her and no one
+could see whether her face was joyful or not. Truth to tell, she was
+sadly frightened, but everybody was merry, and her husband wrapped her
+in a fur cloak and packed her in his sledge. A procession followed, most
+of them on foot, for there was to be a great dinner at Tony Beeson's.
+
+Then, although the morning had been so lovely, the sky clouded over with
+leaden gray and the wind came in great sullen gusts from Lake Huron. You
+could hear it miles away, a fierce roar such as the droves of bisons
+made, as if they were breaking in at your very door. Pani hung the
+bearskin against the door and let down the fur curtains over the
+windows. There was a bright log fire and Jeanne curled up on one side in
+a wolfskin, resting her head on a cushion of cedar twigs that gave out a
+pleasant fragrance. Pani sat quietly on the other side. There was no
+light but the blaze. Neither was the Indian woman used to the small
+industries some of the French took up when they had passed girlhood. In
+a slow, phlegmatic fashion she used to go over her past life, raising up
+from their graves, as it were, Madame de Longueil, Madame Bellestre, and
+then Monsieur, though he never came from the shadowy grave, but a garden
+that bore strange fruit, and where it was summer all the year round. She
+had the gift of obedient faith, so she was a good Catholic, as far as
+her own soul was concerned, but her duty toward the child often troubled
+her.
+
+Jeanne watched the blaze in a strange mood, her heart hot and angry at
+one moment, proud and indifferent at the next. She said a dozen times a
+day to herself that she didn't care a dead leaf for Marie, who had grown
+so consequential and haughty, and Rose, who was full of her own
+pleasure. It seemed as if other children had dropped out as well, but
+then in this cold weather she could not run out to the farms or lead a
+group of eager young people to see her do amazing feats. For she could
+walk out on the limb of a tree and laugh while it swung up and down with
+her weight, and then catch the limb of the next tree and fling herself
+over, amid their shouts. No boy dared climb higher. She had caught
+little owls who blinked at her with yellow eyes, but she always put them
+back in the trees again.
+
+"You wouldn't like to be carried away by fierce Indians," she said when
+the children begged they might keep them. "They like their homes and
+their mothers."
+
+"As if an owl could tell who its mother was!" laughed a boy
+disdainfully.
+
+She had hardly known the feeling of loneliness. What did she do last
+winter, she wondered? O yes, she played with the De Ber children, and
+there were the Pallents, whom she seldom went to visit now, they seemed
+so very ignorant. Ah--if it would come summer again!
+
+"For the trees and the flowers and the birds are better than most
+people," she ruminated. It must be because everybody had gone out of her
+life that it appeared wide and strange. After all she did not care for
+the De Bers and yet it seemed as if she had been stabbed to the heart.
+Pierre and Marie had pretended to care so much for her. Then, in spite
+of her sadness, she laughed.
+
+"What is it amuses thee so, little one?" asked the Indian woman.
+
+"I am not old enough to have a lover, Pani, am I?" and she looked out of
+her furry wrap.
+
+"No, child, no. What folly! Marie's wedding has set thee astray."
+
+"And Pierre is a slow, stupid fellow."
+
+"Pierre would be no match for thee, and I doubt if the De Bers would
+countenance such a thing if he were older. That is nonsense."
+
+"Pierre asked me to be his wife. He said twice that he wanted to marry
+me--at the raising of the flag, when we were on the water, and one
+Sunday in the autumn. I am not as old as Rose De Ber, even, so Marie
+need not feel set upon a pinnacle because Tony Beeson marries her when
+she is barely fifteen."
+
+"Jeanne!" Pani's tone was horror stricken. "And it will make no end of
+trouble. Madame De Ber is none too pleasant now."
+
+"It will make no trouble. I said 'no' and 'no' and 'no,' until it was
+like this mighty wind rushing through the forest, and he was very angry.
+So I should not go to the De Bers any more. And, Pani, if I had a father
+who would make me marry him when I was older, I should go and throw
+myself into the Strait."
+
+"His father sends him up in the fur country in the spring."
+
+"What makes people run crazy when weddings are talked of? But if I
+wanted to hold my head high and boast--"
+
+"Oh, child, you could not be so silly!"
+
+"No, Pani. And I shall be glad to have him go away. I do not want any
+lovers."
+
+The woman was utterly amazed, and then consoled herself with the thought
+that it was merely child's play. They both lapsed into silence again.
+But Jeanne's thoughts ran on. There was Louis Marsac. What if he
+returned next summer and tormented her? A perplexing mood, half pride,
+half disgust, filled her, and a serious elation at her own power which
+thrills young feminine things when they first discover it; as well as
+the shrinking into a new self-appropriation that thrusts out all such
+matters. But she did not laugh over Louis Marsac. She felt afraid of
+him, and she scrubbed her mouth where he had once kissed it.
+
+There was another kiss on her hand. She held it up in the firelight. Ah,
+if she had a father like M. St. Armand, and a brother like the young
+man!
+
+She was seized with an awful pang as if a swift, dark current was
+bearing her away from every one but Pani. Why had her father and mother
+been wrenched out of her life? She had seen a plant or a young shrub
+swept out of its rightful place and tossed to and fro until some
+stronger wave threw it upon the sandy edge, to droop and die. Was she
+like that? Where had she been torn from? She had been thrown into Pani's
+lap. She had never minded the little jeers before when the children had
+called her a wild Indian. Was she nobody's child?
+
+She had an impulse to jump about and storm around the room, to drag some
+secret out of Pani, to grasp the world in her small hands and compel it
+to disclose its knowledge. She looked steadily into the red fire and her
+heart seemed bursting with the breath that could not find an outlet.
+
+The bells began to ring again. "Come," "come," they said. Had she better
+not go to the sisters and live with them? The Church would be father and
+mother.
+
+She bent down her head and cried very softly, for it seemed as if all
+joy had gone out of her life. Pani fell asleep and snored.
+
+But the next morning the world was lovelier than ever with the new
+fallen snow. Men were shoveling it away from doorways and stamping it
+down in the streets with their great boots, the soles being wooden and
+the legs of fur. And they snowballed each other. The children joined and
+rolled in the snow. Now and then a daring young fellow caught a
+demoiselle and rubbed roses into her cheeks.
+
+All the rest of the week was given over to holiday life. There were
+great doings at the Citadel and in some of the grand houses. There were
+dances and dinners, and weddings so brilliant that Marie De Ber's was
+only a little rushlight in comparison.
+
+The master went down to Marietta for a visit. Jeanne seemed like a
+pendulum swinging this way and that. She was lonely and miserable. One
+day the Church seemed a refuge, the next she shrank with a sort of
+terror and longed for spring, as a drowning man longs for everything
+that promises succor.
+
+One morning Monsieur Loisel, the notary, came in with a grave and solemn
+mien.
+
+"I have news for thee, Pani and Mam'selle, a great word of sorrow, and
+it grieves me to be the bearer of it. Yet the good Lord has a right to
+his own, for I cannot doubt but that Madame Bellestre's intercession has
+been of some avail. And Monsieur Bellestre was an upright, honorable,
+kindly man."
+
+"Monsieur Bellestre is dead," said Pani with the shock of a sudden
+revelation.
+
+Jeanne stood motionless. Then he could never come back! And, oh, what if
+Monsieur St. Armand never came back!
+
+"Yes. Heaven rest his soul, say I, and so does the good Father Rameau.
+For his gift to the Church seems an act of faith."
+
+"And Jeanne?" inquired the woman tremblingly.
+
+"It is about the child I have come to talk. Monsieur Bellestre has made
+some provision for her, queerly worded, too."
+
+"Oh, he does not take her away from me!" cried the foster mother in
+anguish.
+
+"No. He had some strange notions not in accord with the Church, we all
+know, that liberty to follow one's opinion is a good thing. It is not
+always so in worldly affairs even, but of late years it has come largely
+in vogue in religious matters. And here is the part of his will that
+pertains to her. You would not understand the preamble, so I will tell
+it in plain words. To you, Pani, is given the house and a sum of money
+each year. To the child is left a yearly portion until she is sixteen,
+then, if she becomes a Catholic and chooses the lot of a sister, it
+ceases. Otherwise it is continued until she is married, when she is
+given a sum for a dowry. And at your death your income reverts to the
+Bellestre estate."
+
+"Monsieur Bellestre did not want me to become a nun, then?"
+
+Jeanne asked the question gravely as a woman.
+
+"It seems not, Mam'selle. He thinks some one may come to claim you, but
+that is hardly probable after all these years;" and there was a dryness
+in the notary's tone. "You are to be educated, but I think the sisters
+know better what is needful for a girl. There are no restrictions,
+however. I am to see that the will is carried out, and the new court is
+to appoint what is called a guardian. The money is to be sent to me
+every six months. It surely is a great shame Mam'selle has no male
+relatives."
+
+"Shall we have to change, Monsieur?" asked Pani with a dread in her
+voice.
+
+"Oh, no; unless Mam'selle should--" he looked questioningly at the girl.
+
+"I shall never leave Pani." She came and stretching up clasped her arms
+about the woman's neck as she had in her babyhood. "And I like to go to
+school to the master."
+
+"M. Bellestre counts this way, that you were three years old when you
+came to Detroit. That was nine years ago. And that you are twelve now.
+So there are four years--"
+
+"It looks a long while, but the past does not seem so. Why, last winter
+is like the turn of your hand," and she turned hers over with a smile.
+
+"Many things may happen in four years." No doubt she would have a lover
+and marry. "Let me go over it again."
+
+They both listened, Jeanne wide-eyed, Pani nodding her head slowly.
+
+"I must tell you that M. Bellestre left fifty pounds to Father Rameau
+for any purpose he considered best. And now the court will take it in
+hand, but these new American courts are all in confusion and very slow.
+Still, as there is to be no change, and the money will come through me
+as before, why, there will be no trouble."
+
+Pani nodded again but made no comment. She could hardly settle her mind
+to the fact of Monsieur Bellestre's death.
+
+"Allow me to congratulate you, Mam'selle, on having so sincere a
+friend." M. Loisel held out his hand.
+
+"If he had but come back! I do not care for the money."
+
+"Still, money is a very good thing. Well, we will have several more
+talks about this. Adieu, Mam'selle. My business is ended at present."
+
+He bowed politely as he went out; but he thought, "It is a crazy thing
+leaving her to the care of that old Indian woman. Surely he could not
+have distrusted Father Rameau? And though the good father is quite
+sure--well, it does not do for anyone to be too sure in this world."
+
+Father Rameau came that very afternoon and had a long talk with Pani. He
+did not quite understand why M. Bellestre should be so opposed to the
+Church taking charge of the child, since she was not in the hands of any
+relative. But he had promised Pani she should not be separated from her,
+indeed, no one had a better right to her, he felt.
+
+M. Bellestre's family were strong Huguenots, and had been made to suffer
+severely for their faith in Old France, and not a little in the new
+country. He had not cordially loved the English, but he felt that the
+larger liberty had been better for the settlement, and that education
+was the foe to superstition and bigotry, as well as ignorance. While he
+admitted to himself, and frankly to the town, the many excellencies of
+the priest, it was the system, that held the people in bondage and
+denied enlightenment, that he protested against. It was with great pain
+that he had discovered his wife's gradual absorption, but knowing death
+was at hand he could not deny her last request. But the child should
+choose for herself, and, if under Pani's influence she should become a
+Catholic, he would not demur. From time to time he had accounts from M.
+Loisel, and he had been pleased with the desire of the child for
+education. She should have that satisfaction.
+
+And now spring was coming again. The sense of freedom and rejoicing
+broke out anew in Jeanne, but she found herself restrained by some
+curious power that was finer than mere propriety. She was growing older
+and knowledge enlarged her thoughts and feelings, stirred a strange
+something within her that was ambition, though she knew it not; she had
+not grown accustomed to the names of qualities.
+
+The master was taking great pride in her, and gave her the few
+advantages within his reach. Detroit was being slowly remodeled, but it
+was discouraging work, since the French settlers were satisfied with
+their own ways, and looked with suspicion on improvements even in many
+simple devices for farming.
+
+With the fur season the town was in wild confusion and holiday jollity
+prevailed. There were Indians with packs; and the old race of the
+_coureurs des bois_, who were still picturesque with their red sashes
+and jaunty habiliments. They were wild men of the woods, who had thrown
+off the restraints of civilized life and who hunted as much for the
+pleasure as the profit. They could live in a wigwam, they could join
+Indian dances, they were brave, hardy, but in some instances savage as
+the Indians themselves and quite as lawless. A century ago they had been
+the pioneers of the fur hunters, with many a courageous explorer among
+them. The newer organizations of the fur companies had curtailed their
+power and their numbers had dwindled, but they kept up their wild
+habits, and this was the carouse of the whole year.
+
+It was a busy season. There was great chaffering, disputing, and not a
+few fights, though guards were detailed along the river front to keep
+the peace as far as was possible. Boats were being loaded for Montreal,
+cargoes to be shipped down the Hudson and from thence abroad, with mink
+and otter and beaver, beautiful fox furs, white wolf and occasionally a
+white bear skin that dealers would quarrel about.
+
+Then the stores of provisions to be sent back to the trappers and
+hunters, the clothes and blankets and trinkets for the Indians, kept
+shopkeepers busy day and night, and poured money into their coffers. New
+men were going out,--to an adventurous young fellow this seemed the
+great opportunity of his life.
+
+Jeanne Angelot's fortune had been noised abroad somewhat, though she
+paid little attention to it even in her thoughts. But she was a girl
+with a dowry now, and she was not only growing tall but strangely pretty
+as well. Her skin was fairer, her hair, which still fell in loose
+curls, was kept in better order. Coif she would not wear, but sometimes
+she tied a bright kerchief under her chin and looked bewitching.
+
+French mothers of sons were never averse to a dowry, although men were
+so in want of wives that few went begging for husbands. Women paused to
+chat with Pani and make kindly inquiries about her charge. Even Madame
+De Ber softened. She was opposed to Pierre's going north with the
+hunters, but he was so eager and his father considered it a good thing.
+And now he was a strapping big fellow, taller than his father, slowly
+shaping up into manhood.
+
+"Thou hast not been to visit Marie?" she said one day on meeting Jeanne
+face to face. "She has spoken of it. Last year you were such a child,
+but now you have quite grown and will be companionable. All the girls
+have visited her. Her husband is most excellent."
+
+"I have been busy with lessons," said Jeanne with some embarrassment.
+Then, with a little pride--"Marie dropped me, and if I were not to be
+welcome--"
+
+"Chut! chut! Marie had to put on a little dignity. A child like you
+should bear no malice."
+
+"But--she sent me no invitation."
+
+"Then I must chide her. And it will be pleasant down there in the
+summer. Do you know that Pierre goes back with the hunters?"
+
+"I have heard--yes."
+
+"It is not my wish, but if he can make money in his youth so much the
+better. And the others are growing up to fill his place. Good day to
+thee, Jeanne."
+
+That noon Madame De Ber said to her husband, "Jeanne Angelot improves
+greatly. Perhaps the school will do her no harm. She is rather sharp
+with her replies, but she always had a saucy tongue. A girl needs a
+mother to correct her, and Pani spoils her."
+
+"She will have quite a dowry, I have heard," remarked her husband.
+
+Pierre flushed a little at this pleasant mention of her name. If Jeanne
+only walked down in the town like some of the girls! If Rose might ask
+her to go!
+
+But Rose did not dare, and then there was Martin ready to waylay her.
+Three were awkward when you liked best to have a young man to yourself.
+
+How many times Pierre had watched her unseen, her lithe figure that
+seemed always atilt even when wrapped in furs, and her starry eyes
+gleaming out of her fur hood. Not even Rose could compare with her in
+that curious daintiness, though Pierre would have been at loss to
+describe it, since his vocabulary was limited, but he felt it in every
+slow beating pulse. He had resolved to speak, but she never gave him the
+opportunity. She flashed by him as if she had never known him.
+
+But he must say good-by to her. There was Madelon Dace, who had
+quarreled with her lover and gone to a dance with some one else and held
+her head high, never looking to the right or the left, and then as
+suddenly melted into sweetness and they would be married. Yet Madelon
+had said to his sister Marie, "I will never speak to him, never!" What
+had he done to offend Jeanne so deeply? Girls were not usually angered
+at a man falling in love with them.
+
+So Pierre's pack was made up. In the autumn they could send again. He
+took tea the last time with Marie. The boats were all ready to start up
+the Huron.
+
+He went boldly to the little cottage and said courageously to Pani,
+though his heart seemed to quake almost down to his feet, "I am going
+away at noon. I have come to say good-by to Jeanne--and to you," put in
+as an afterthought.
+
+"What a great fellow you are, Pierre! I wish you good luck. Jeanne--"
+
+Jeanne had almost forgotten her childish anger, and the love making was
+silly, even in remembrance.
+
+"Surely I wish thee good luck, Pierre," she said formally, with a smile
+not too warm about her rosy lips. "And a fortunate hunting and trading."
+
+"A safe return, Mam'selle, put that in," he pleaded.
+
+"A safe return."
+
+Then they shook hands and he went his way, thinking with great comfort
+that she had not flouted him.
+
+It was quite a great thing to see the boats go out. Sweethearts and
+wives congregated on the wharves. Some few brave women went with their
+husbands. Other ships were setting out for Montreal well loaded, and one
+or two were carrying a gay lot of passengers.
+
+After a few weeks, quiet returned, the streets were no longer crowded
+and the noisy reveling was over for a while. The farmers were busy out
+of doors, cattle were lowing, chanticleer rang out his call to work in
+the early morn, and busy hens were caroling in cheerful if unmusical
+voices. Trees budded into a beautiful haze and then sprang into leaf,
+into bloom. The rough social hilarity was over for a while.
+
+A few of the emigrant farmers laughed at the clumsy, wasteful French
+methods and tried their own, which were laughed at in turn, but there
+was little disputing.
+
+Easter had fallen early and it had been cold, but Whitsuntide made
+amends, and was, if anything, a greater festival. For a procession
+formed at St. Anne's, young girls in gala attire, smart, middle-aged
+women with new caps and kerchiefs, husbands and sons, and not a few
+children, and marched out of the Pontiac gate, as it was called in
+remembrance of the long siege. Forty years before Jacques Campeau had
+built the first little outside chapel on his farm, which had a great
+stretch of ground. The air was full of the fragrance of fruit blossoms
+and hardly needed incense. Ah, how beautiful it was in a sort of
+pastoral simplicity! And after saying mass, Father Frechette blessed and
+prayed for fertile fields and good crops and generous hearts that tithes
+might not be withheld, and the faithful rewarded. Then they went to the
+Fulcher farm, where, in a chapel not much more than a shrine, the
+service was again said with the people kneeling around in the grass. The
+farmers and good housewives placed more faith in this than in the
+methods of the newcomers with their American wisdom. But it was a
+pleasing service. The procession changed about a little,--the young men
+walking with the demoiselles and whispering in their listening ears.
+
+Jeanne was with them. Madame De Ber was quite gracious, and Marie Beeson
+singled her out. It had been a cold winter and a backward spring and
+Marie had not gone anywhere. Tony was so exigent, and she laughed and
+bridled. It was a very happy thing to be married and have some one care
+for you. And soon she would give a tea drinking and she would send for
+Jeanne, who must be sure to come.
+
+But Jeanne had a strange, dreary feeling. She seemed between everything,
+no longer a child and not a woman, not a part of the Church, not a part
+of anything. She felt afraid of the future. Oh, what was her share of
+the bright, beautiful world?
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+BLOOMS OF THE MAY.
+
+
+The spring came in with a quickening glory. A fortnight ago the snow was
+everywhere, the skaters were still out on the streams, the young fellows
+having rough snowballing matches, then suddenly one morning the white
+blanket turned a faint, sickly, soft gray, and withered. The pallid
+skies grew blue, the brown earth showed in patches, there were cheerful
+sounds from the long-housed animals, rivulets were all afloat running in
+haste to swell the streams, and from thence to the river and the lakes.
+
+The tiny rings of fir and juniper brightened, the pine branches swelled
+with great furry buds, bursting open into pale green tassels that moved
+with every breath of wind. The hemlocks shot out feathery fronds, the
+spruce spikes of bluish green, the maples shook around red blossoms and
+then uncurled tiny leaves. The hickories budded in a strange, pale
+yellow, but the oaks stood sturdy with some of the winter's brown leaves
+clinging to them.
+
+The long farms outside the stockade awoke to new vigor as well.
+Everybody set to work, for the summer heats would soon be upon them, and
+the season was short. There was a stir in the town proper, as well.
+
+And now, at mid-May, when some of the crops were in, there was a day of
+merrymaking, beginning with a procession and a blessing of the fields,
+and then the fiddles were taken down, for the hard work lasting well
+into the evening made both men and women tired enough to go to bed
+early, when their morning began in the twilight.
+
+The orchards were abloom and sweetened all the air. The evergreens sent
+out a resinous, pungent fragrance, the grass was odorous with the night
+dews. The maypole was raised anew, for generally the winter winds
+blowing fiercely over from the great western lake demolished it, though
+they always let it stand as long as it would, and in the autumn again
+danced about it. It had been the old French symbol of welcome and good
+wishes to their Seigneurs, as well as to the spring. And now it was a
+legend of past things and a merrymaking.
+
+The pole had bunches of flowers tied here and there, and long streamers
+that it was fun to jerk from some one's hand and let the wind blow them
+away. Girls and youths did this to rivals, with mischievous laughter.
+
+The habitans were in their holiday garb, which had hardly changed for
+two hundred years except when it was put by for winter furs, clean blue
+tunics, scarlet caps and sashes, deerskin breeches trimmed with yellow
+or brown fringe, sometimes both, leggings and moccasins with bead
+embroidery and brightly dyed threads.
+
+There were shopkeepers, too, there were boatmen and Indians, and some of
+the quality with their wives in satin and lace and gay brocades.
+Soldiers as well in their military gear, and officers in buff and blue
+with cocked hats and pompons.
+
+The French girls had put on their holiday attire and some had festooned
+a light skirt over one of cloth and placed in it a bright bow. Gowns
+that were family heirlooms, never seeing day except on some festive
+occasion, strings of beads, belts studded with wampum shells,
+high-heeled shoes with a great buckle or bow, but not as easy to dance
+in as moccasins.
+
+Two years had brought more changes to the individual, or rather the
+younger part of the community, than to the town. A few new houses had
+been built, many old ones repaired and enlarged a little. The streets
+were still narrow and many of them winding about. The greatest signs of
+life were at the river's edge. The newer American emigrant came for land
+and secured it outside. Every week some of the better class English who
+were not in the fur trade went to Quebec or Montreal to be under their
+own rulers.
+
+There was not an entire feeling of security. Since Pontiac there had
+been no great Indian leader, but many subordinate chiefs who were very
+sore over the treaties. There was an Indian prophet, twin brother to the
+chief Tecumseh who afterward led his people to a bloody war, who used
+his rude eloquence to unite the warring tribes in one nation by wild
+visions he foresaw of their greatness.
+
+Marauding tribes still harassed parties of travelers, but about Detroit
+they were peaceable; and many joined in the festivities of a day like
+this. While as farm laborers they were of little worth, they were often
+useful at the wharves, and as boatmen.
+
+Two years had brought a strange, new life to Jeanne, so imperceptibly
+that she was now a puzzle to herself. The child had disappeared, the
+growing girl she hardly knew. The wild feats that had once been the
+admiration of the children pleased her no longer. The children had grown
+as well. The boys tilled the fields with their fathers, worked in shops
+or on the docks, or were employed about the Fort. Some few, smitten with
+military ardor, were in training for future soldiers. The field for
+girls had grown wider. Beside the household employments there were
+spinning and sewing. The Indian women had made a coarse kind of lace
+worked with beads that the French maidens improved upon and disposed of
+to the better class. Or the more hoydenish ones delighted to work in the
+fields with their brothers, enjoying the outdoor life.
+
+For a year Jeanne had kept on with her master, though at spring a wild
+impulse of liberty threatened to sweep her from her moorings.
+
+"Why do I feel so?" she inquired almost fiercely of the master.
+"Something stifles me! Then I wish I had been made a bird to fly up and
+up until I had left the earth. Oh, what glorious thing is in the bird's
+mind when he can look into the very heavens, soaring out of sight?"
+
+"There is nothing in the bird's mind, except to find a mate, build a
+nest and rear some young; to feed them until they can care for
+themselves, and, though there is much romance about the mother bird,
+they are always eager to get rid of their offspring. He sings because
+God has given him a song, his language. But he has no thought of
+heaven."
+
+"Oh, he must have!" she cried passionately.
+
+The master studied her.
+
+"Art thou ready to die, to go out of the world, to be put into the dark
+ground?"
+
+"Oh, no! no!" Jeanne shuddered. "It is because I like to live, to
+breathe the sweet air, to run over the grass, to linger about the woods
+and hear all the voices. The pines have one tone, the hemlocks and
+spruces another, and the soft swish of the larches is like the last
+tender notes of some of the hymns I sing with the sisters occasionally.
+And the sun is so glorious! He clasps the baby leaves in his unseen
+hands and they grow, and he makes the blades of grass to dance for very
+joy. I catch him in my hands, too; I steep my face in the floods of
+golden light and all the air is full of stars. Oh, no, I would not,
+could not die! I would like to live forever. Even Pani is in no haste to
+die."
+
+"Thou art a strange child, surely. I have read of some such in books.
+And I wonder that the heaven of the nuns does not take more hold of
+thee."
+
+"But I do not like the black gowns, and the coifs so close over their
+ears, and the little rooms in which one is buried alive. For it seems
+like dying before one's time, like being half dead in a gay, glad world.
+Did not God give it to us to enjoy?"
+
+The master nodded. He wondered when she was in these strange moods. And
+he noticed that the mad pranks grew less, that there were days when she
+studied like a soul possessed, and paid little heed to those about her.
+
+But when a foreign letter with a great waxen seal came to her one day
+her delight knew no bounds. It was not a noisy joy, however.
+
+"Let us go out under the oak," she said to Pani.
+
+The children were playing about. Wenonah looked up from her work and
+smiled.
+
+"No, children," said Jeanne with a wave of the hand, "I cannot have you
+now. You may come to-morrow. This afternoon is all mine."
+
+It was a pleasant, grave, fatherly letter. M. St. Armand had found much
+to do, and presently he would go to England. Laurent was at a school
+where he should leave him for a year.
+
+"Listen," said Jeanne when they were both seated on the short turf that
+was half moss, "a grown man at school--is it not funny?" and she laughed
+gayly.
+
+"But there are young men sent to Quebec and Montreal, and to that
+southern town, New York. And young women, too. But I hope thou wilt know
+enough, Jeanne, without all this journeying."
+
+Pani studied her with great perplexity.
+
+"But he wants me to know many things--as if I were a rich girl! I know
+my English quite well and can read in it. And, Pani, how wonderful that
+a letter can talk as if one were beside you!"
+
+She read it over and over. Some words she wondered at. The great city
+with its handsome churches and gardens and walks and palaces, how
+beautiful it must be! It was remarkable that she had no longing, envious
+feeling. She was so full of delight there was no room.
+
+They sat still a long while. She patted the thin, brown hand, then laid
+her soft cheek on it or made a cradle of it for her chin.
+
+"Pani," she said at length, "how splendid it would be to have M. St.
+Armand for one's father! I have never cared for any girl's father, but
+M. St. Armand would be gentle and kind. I think, too, he could smooth
+away all the sort of cobweb things that haunt one's brain and the
+thoughts you cannot make take any shape but go floating like drifts in
+the sky, until you are lost in the clouds."
+
+Pani looked over toward the river. Like the master, the child's strange
+thoughts puzzled her, but she was afraid they were wrong. The master
+wished that she could be translated to some wider living.
+
+It took Jeanne several days to answer her letter, but every hour was one
+of exultant joy. It gave her hardly less delight than the reception of
+his. Then it was to be sent to New York by Monsieur Fleury, who had
+dealings back and forth.
+
+There had been a great wedding at the Fleury house. Madelon had married
+a titled French gentleman and gone to Montreal.
+
+"Oh!" cried Jeanne to Monsieur Fleury, "you will be very careful and not
+let it get lost. I took so much pains with it. And when it gets to New
+York--"
+
+"A ship takes it to France. See, child, there is all this bundle to go,
+and there are many valuable papers in it. Do not fear;" and he smiled.
+"But what has M. St. Armand to say to you?"
+
+"Oh, many things about what I should learn. I have already studied much
+that he asked me to, and he will be very glad to hear that."
+
+M. Fleury smiled indulgently, and Jeanne with a proud step went down the
+paved walk bordered with flowers, a great innovation for that time. But
+his wife voiced his thoughts when she said:--
+
+"Do you not think it rather foolish that Monsieur St. Armand should
+trouble his head about a child like that? No one knows to what sort of
+people she has belonged. And she will marry some habitan who cares
+little whether she can write a letter or not."
+
+"She will have quite a dowry. She ought to marry well. A little learning
+will not hurt her."
+
+"M. Bellestre must have known more than he confessed," with suspicion in
+her voice.
+
+M. Fleury nodded assentingly.
+
+Jeanne had been quite taken into Madame De Ber's good graces again. The
+money had worked wonders with her, only she did not see the need of it
+being spent upon an education. There was Pierre, who would be about the
+right age, but would she want Pierre to have that kind of a wife?
+
+Rose and Jeanne became very neighborly. Marie was a happy, commonplace
+wife, who really adored her rough husband, and was always extolling
+him. He had never learned to dance, but he was a swift skater, and could
+row with anybody in a match. Then there was a little son, not at all to
+Jeanne's liking, for he had a wide mouth and no nose to speak of.
+
+"He is not as pretty as Aurel," she said.
+
+"He will grow prettier," returned the proud grandmother, sharply.
+
+That autumn the old schoolmaster did not come back. Some other schools
+had been started. M. Loisel sounded his charge as to whether she would
+not go to Montreal to school, but she decisively declined.
+
+And now another spring had come, and Jeanne was a tall girl, but she
+would not put up her hair nor wear a coif. Father Rameau had been sent
+on a mission to St. Ignace. The new priest that came did not agree very
+well with Father Gilbert. He wanted to establish some Ursulines on a
+much stricter plan than the few sisters had been accustomed to, and
+there were bickerings and strained feelings. Beside, the Protestants
+were making some headway in the town.
+
+"It is not to be wondered at," said the new priest to many of his flock.
+"One could hardly tell what you are. There must be better regulations."
+
+"But we pay our tithes regularly. And Father Rameau--"
+
+"I am tired of Father Rameau!" said the priest angrily. "And the
+fiddling and the dancing!"
+
+"I do not like the quarreling," commented Jeanne. "And in the little
+chapel they all agree. They worship God, and not the Saints or the
+Virgin."
+
+"But the Virgin was a woman and is tender to us, and will intercede for
+us," interposed Pani.
+
+Jeanne went to the English school that winter but the children were not
+much to her mind.
+
+And now it was May, and Jeanne suddenly decided that she was tired of
+school.
+
+"Pierre has come home!" almost shouted Rose to the two sitting in the
+doorway. "And he is a big man with a heavy voice, and, would you
+believe, he fairly lifted mother off her feet, and she tried to box his
+ears, but could not, and we all laughed so. He will be at the Fête
+to-morrow."
+
+"Come, Pani," Jeanne said quite early, "we will hunt for some flowers.
+Susette Mass said we were to bring as many as we could."
+
+"But--there will be the procession and the blessings--"
+
+"And you will like that. Then we can be first to put some flowers on the
+shrines, maybe."
+
+That won Pani. So together they went. At the edge of the wood wild
+flowers had begun to bloom, and they gathered handfuls. Little maple
+trees just coming up had four tiny red leaves that looked like a
+blossom.
+
+There under a great birch tree was a small wooden temple with a
+weather-beaten cross on top, and on a shelf inside, raised a little from
+the ground, stood a plaster cast of the Virgin. Jeanne sprinkled the
+white blossoms of the wild strawberry all around. Pani knelt and said a
+little prayer.
+
+Susette Mass ran to meet them.
+
+"Oh, how early you are!" she cried. "And how beautiful! Where did you
+find so many flowers? Some must go to the chapel."
+
+"There will be plenty to give to the chapel. There is another shrine
+somewhere."
+
+"And they say you are not a good Catholic!"
+
+"I would like to be good. Sometimes I try," returned Jeanne, softly, and
+her eyes looked like a saint's, Susette thought.
+
+Pani led the way to the other shrine and while the child scattered
+flowers and stood in silent reverence, Pani knelt and prayed. Then the
+throng of gayly dressed girls and laughing young men were coming from
+several quarters and the procession formed amid much chattering.
+
+Afterward there were games of various sorts, tests of strength, running
+and jumping, and the Indian game of ball, which was wilder and more
+exciting than the French.
+
+"Oh, here you are!" exclaimed Rose De Ber. On one side was Martin
+Lavosse, a well-favored young fellow, and on the other a great giant, it
+seemed to Jeanne. For a moment she felt afraid.
+
+"Why, it isn't Jeanne Angelot?" Pierre caught both hands and almost
+crushed them, and looked into the deep blue eyes with such eagerness
+that the warm color flew to Jeanne's forehead. "Oh, how beautiful you
+have grown!"
+
+He bent down a little and uttered it in a whisper. Jeanne flushed and
+then was angry at herself for the rising color.
+
+Pierre was fascinated anew. More than once in the two years he had
+smiled at his infatuation for the wild little girl who might be half
+Indian so far as anyone knew. No, not half--but very likely a little.
+What a temper she had, too! He had nearly forgotten all her charms. Of
+course it had been a childish intimacy. He had driven her in his dog
+sledge over the ice, he had watched her climb trees to his daring, they
+had been out in his father's canoe when she _would_ paddle and he was
+almost afraid of tipping over. Really he had run risks of his life for
+her foolishness. And his foolishness had been in begging her to promise
+to marry him!
+
+He had seen quite a good deal of the world since, and been treated as a
+man. In his slow-thoughted fashion he saw her the same wild, willful,
+obstinate little thing. Rose was a young lady, that was natural, but
+Jeanne--
+
+"They are going to dance. Hear the fiddles! It is one of the great
+amusements up there," indicating the North with his head. "Only half the
+time you dance with boys--young fellows;" and he gave a chuckling laugh.
+"You see there is a scarcity of women. The Indian girls stand a good
+chance. Only a good many of the men have left wives and children at
+home."
+
+"Did you like it?" Jeanne asked with interest.
+
+Pierre shrugged his broad shoulders.
+
+"At first I hated it. I would have run away, but if I had come back to
+Detroit everybody would have laughed and my father would have beaten me.
+Now he looks me over as if he knew I was worth something. Why, I am
+taller than he! And I have learned a great deal about making money."
+
+They were done tuning up the violins and all the air was soft with the
+natural melody of birds and whispering winds. This was broken by a
+stentorian shout, and men and maids fell into places. Pierre grasped
+Jeanne's hand so tightly that she winced. With the other hand he caught
+one of the streamers. There was a great scramble for them. And when, as
+soon as the dancing was in earnest, a young fellow had to let his
+streamer go in turning his partner, some one caught it and a merry shout
+rang through the group.
+
+"How stupid you are!" cried Rose to Martin. "Why did you not catch that
+streamer? Now we are on the outside." She pouted her pretty lips. "Are
+you bewitched with Pierre and Jeanne?"
+
+"How beautifully she dances, and Pierre for a clumsy, big fellow is not
+bad."
+
+Hugh Pallent had caught a streamer and held out his hand to Rose.
+
+"Well, amuse yourself with looking at them, Monsieur," returned Rose
+pettishly. "As for me, I came to dance," and Pallent whisked her off.
+
+Martin's eyes followed them, other eyes as well.
+
+Pierre threw his streamer with a sleight of hand one would hardly have
+looked for, and caught it again amid the cheers of his companions. Round
+they went, only once losing their place in the whole circle. The violins
+flew faster, the dancing grew almost furious, eyes sparkled and cheeks
+bloomed.
+
+"I am tired," Jeanne said, and lagging she half drew Pierre out of the
+circle.
+
+"Tired! I could dance forever with you."
+
+"But you must not. See how the mothers are watching you for a chance,
+and the girls will be proud enough to have you ask them."
+
+"I am not going to;" shrugging his square shoulders.
+
+"Oh, yes, you are!" with a pretty air of authority.
+
+Jeanne saw envious eyes wandering in her direction. She did not know how
+she outshone most of the girls, with an air that was so different from
+the ordinary. Her white cotton gown had a strip of bright, curiously
+worked embroidery above the hem and around the square neck that gave her
+exquisite throat full play. The sleeves came to the elbow, and both
+hands and arms were beautiful. Her skin was many shades fairer, her
+cheeks like the heart of a rose, and her mouth dimpled in the corners.
+Her lithe figure had none of the squareness of the ordinary habitan, and
+every movement was grace itself.
+
+"If you will not dance, let us walk, then. I have so much to say--"
+
+"There will be all summer to say it in. And there is only one May dance.
+Susette!"
+
+Susette came with sparkling eyes.
+
+"This young man is dance bewitched. See how he has changed. We can
+hardly believe it is the Pierre we used to run races and climb trees
+with in nutting time. And he knows how to dance;" laughing.
+
+Pierre held out his hand, but there was a shade of reluctance in his
+eyes.
+
+"I thought you were never going to throw over that great giant," said
+Martin Lavosse. "I suppose every girl will go crazy about him because he
+has been up north and made some money. His father has planned to take
+him into business. Jeanne, dance with me."
+
+"No, not now. I am tired."
+
+"I should think you would be, pulled around at that rate. Look, Susette
+can hardly keep up, and her braids have tumbled."
+
+"Did I look like that?" asked Jeanne with sudden disapprobation in her
+tone.
+
+"Oh, no, no! You were like--like the fairies and wood things old Mère
+Michaud tells of. Your hair just floated around like a cloud full of
+twilight--"
+
+"No, the black ones when the thunderstorm is coming on," she returned
+mischievously.
+
+"It was beautiful and full of waves. And you are so straight and slim.
+You just floated."
+
+"And you watched me and lost your streamer twice. Rose did not like it."
+
+He was a little jealous and a little vexed at Rose giving him the go by
+in such a pointed manner. He would get even with her.
+
+"Why did you go off so early? We all went up for you."
+
+"I wanted to gather flowers for the shrines."
+
+"But we could have gone, too."
+
+"No, it would have been too late. It was such a pleasure to Pani. She
+can't dance, you know."
+
+"Let us walk around and see the tables."
+
+They were being spread out on the green sward, planks raised a foot or
+so, for every one would sit on the grass. Some of the Indian women had
+booths, and were already selling birch and sassafras beer, pipes and
+tobacco, and maple sugar. Little ones were running helter-skelter,
+tumbling down and getting up without a whimper. Here a knot of men were
+playing cards or dominoes. It was a pretty scene, and needed only
+cavaliers and the glittering, stately stepping dames to make it a
+picture of old France.
+
+They were all tired and breathless with the dance presently, and threw
+themselves around on the grass for a bit of rest. There was laughing and
+chattering, and bright eyes full of mirth sent coquettish glances first
+on this side, then on that. Susette had borne off her partner in triumph
+to see her mother, and there were old neighbors welcoming and
+complimenting Pierre De Ber.
+
+"Pierre," said a stout fellow banteringly, "you have shown us your
+improvement in dancing. As I remember you were a rather clumsy boy, too
+big for your years. Now they are going to try feats of skill and
+strength. After that we shall have some of the Indian women run a race.
+Monsieur De Ber, we shall be glad to count you in, if you have the
+daring to compete with the stay-at-homes."
+
+"For shame, Hugh! What kind of an invitation is that? Pierre, you do not
+look as if you had spent all your prowess in dancing;" glancing
+admiringly at the big fellow.
+
+"You will see. Give me a trial." Pierre was nettled at the first
+speaker's tone. "I have not been up on the Mich for nothing. You fellows
+think the river and Lake St. Clair half the world. You should see Lake
+Michigan and Lake Superior."
+
+"Yes, Pierre," spoke up another. "You used to be good on a jump. Come
+and try to distance us stay-at-homes, if you haven't grown too heavy."
+
+They were marking off a place for the jumping on a level, and at a short
+distance hurdles of different heights had been put up.
+
+Pierre had been the butt of several things in his boyish days, but,
+though a heavy lad, often excelled in jumping. The chaffing stirred his
+spirit. He would show what he could do. And Jeanne should see it. What
+did he care for Susette's shining eyes!
+
+Two or three supple young fellows, two older ones with a well-seasoned
+appearance, stood on the mark. Pierre eyed it.
+
+"No," he said, "it is not fair. I'm a sight heavier than those. And I
+won't take the glory from them. But if you are all agreed I'll try the
+other."
+
+"Why, man, the other is a deal harder."
+
+Pierre nodded indifferently.
+
+The first started like a young athlete; a running jump and it fell
+short. There was a great laugh of derision. But the second was more
+successful and a shout went up. The next one leaped over the mark. Four
+of them won.
+
+Rose was piqued that Martin should sit all this while on the grass
+chatting to Jeanne. She came around to them.
+
+"Pierre is going to jump," she announced. "I'm sorry, but they badgered
+him into it. They were really envious of his dancing."
+
+Jeanne rose. "I do wonder where Pani is!" she said. "Shall we go
+nearer?"
+
+"Oh, Pani is with the Indian women over there at the booths. No, stay,
+Jeanne," and Rose caught her hand. "Look! look! Why, they might almost
+be birds. Isn't it grand? But--Pierre--"
+
+She might have spared her anxiety. Pierre came over with a splendid
+flying leap, clearing the bar better than his predecessor. A wild shout
+went up and Pierre's hand was clasped and shaken with a hearty approval.
+The girls crowded around him, and all was noisy jollity. Jeanne simply
+glanced up and he caught her eye.
+
+"I have pleased her this time," he thought.
+
+The racing of the squaws, though some indeed were quite young girls, was
+productive of much amusement. This was the only trial that had a prize
+attached to it,--a beautiful blanket, for money was a scarce commodity.
+A slim, young damsel won it.
+
+"Jeanne," and Pierre bent over her, for, though she was taller than the
+average, he was head and almost shoulders above her, "Jeanne, you could
+have beaten them all."
+
+She flushed. "I do not run races anymore," she returned with dignity.
+
+He sighed. "That was a happy old time. How long ago it seems!
+Jeanne--are you glad to see me? You are so--so grave. And all the time I
+have been thinking of the child--I forgot you were to grow."
+
+Some one blew a horn long and loud that sent echoes among the trees a
+thousand times more beautiful than the sound itself. The tables, if they
+could be called that, were spread, and in no time were surrounded by
+merry, laughing, chatting groups, who brought with them the appetites of
+the woods and wilds, hardly leaving crumbs for the birds.
+
+After that there was dancing again and rambling around, and Pierre was
+made much of by the mothers. It was a proud day for Madame De Ber, and
+she glanced about among the girls to see whom of them she would choose
+for a daughter-in-law. For now Pierre could have his pick of them all.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+LOVE, LIKE THE ROSE, IS BRIERY.
+
+
+Jeanne Angelot sat in the doorway in the moonlight silvering the street.
+There were so many nooks and places in shadow that everything had a
+weird, fantastic look. The small garrison were quiet, and many of them
+asleep by nine o'clock. Early hours was the rule except in what were
+called the great houses. But in this out of the way nook few pedestrians
+ever passed in the evening.
+
+"Child, are you not coming to bed? Why do you sit there? You said you
+were tired."
+
+Pani was crooning over a handful of fire. The May sunshine had not
+penetrated all the houses, and her old blood had lost its heat.
+
+"Yes, I was. What with the dancing and the walking about and all I was
+very weary. I want to get rested. It is so quiet and lovely."
+
+"You can rest in bed."
+
+"I want to stay here a little while longer. Do not mind me, but go to
+bed yourself."
+
+The voice was tender, persuasive, but Pani did not stir. Now and then
+she felt uncertain of the child.
+
+"Was it not a happy day to you, _ma fille_?"
+
+"Yes," with soft brevity.
+
+Had it been happy? At different times during the past two years a
+curious something, like a great wave, had swept over her, bearing her
+away, yet slowly she seemed to float back. Only it was never quite the
+same--the shores, the woods, the birds, the squirrels, the deer that
+came and looked at her with unafraid eyes, impressed her with some new,
+inexplicable emotion. What meaning was behind them?
+
+But to-night she could not go back. She had passed the unknown boundary.
+Her limited knowledge could not understand the unfolding, the budding of
+womanhood, whose next change was blossoming. It had been a day of varied
+emotions. If she could have run up the hillside with no curious eyes
+upon her, sung with the birds, gathered great handfuls of daisies and
+bell flowers, tumbled up the pink and yellow fungus that grew around the
+tree roots, studied the bits of crisp moss that stood up like sentinels,
+with their red caps, and if you trod on them bristled up again, or if
+she could have climbed the trees and swung from branch to branch in the
+wavering flecks of sunshine as she did only such a little while ago, all
+would have been well. What was it restrained her? Was it the throng of
+people? She had enjoyed startling them with a kind of bravado. That was
+childhood. Ah, yes. Everybody grew up, and these wild antics no longer
+pleased. Oh, could she not go back and have it all over again?
+
+She had danced and laughed. Pierre had tried to keep her a good deal to
+himself, but she had been elusive as a golden mote dancing up and down.
+She seemed to understand what this sense of appropriating meant, and she
+did not like it.
+
+And then Martin Lavosse had been curious as well. Rose and he were not
+betrothed, and Rose was like a gay humming bird, sipping pleasure and
+then away. Madame De Ber had certainly grown less strict. But Martin was
+still very young and poor, and Rose could do better with her pretty
+face. Like a shrewd, experienced person she offered no opposition that
+would be like a breeze to a smoldering flame. There was Edouard Loisel,
+the notary's nephew, and even if he was one of the best fiddlers in
+town, he had a head for business as well, and was a shrewd trader. M.
+Loisel had no children of his own and only these two nephews, and if
+Edouard fancied Rose before Martin was ready to speak--so the mother had
+a blind eye for Rose's pretty coquetries in that direction; but Rose did
+not like to have Martin quite so devoted to any other girl as he seemed
+to be to Jeanne.
+
+Jeanne had not liked it at all. She had been good friends and comrades
+with the boys, but now they were grown and had curious ideas of holding
+one's hand and looking into one's eyes that intensified the new feeling
+penetrating every pulse. If only she might run away somewhere. If Pani
+were not so old they would go to the other side of the mountain and
+build a hut and live together there. She did not believe the Indians
+would molest them. Anything to get away from this strange burthen
+pressing down upon her that she knew not was womanhood, and be free once
+more.
+
+She rose presently and went in. Pani was a heap in the chimney corner,
+she saw her by the long silver ray that fell across the floor.
+
+"Pani! Pani!" she cried vehemently.
+
+Her arms were around the neck and the face was lifted up, kissed with a
+fervor she had never experienced before.
+
+"My little one! my little one!" sighed the woman.
+
+"Come, let us go to bed." There was an eagerness in the tone that
+comforted the woman.
+
+The next morning Detroit was at work betimes. There was no fashion of
+loitering then; when the sun flung out his golden arrows that dispelled
+the night, men and women were cheerfully astir.
+
+"I must go and get some silk for Wenonah; she has some embroidery to
+finish for the wife of one of the officers," exclaimed Jeanne. "And then
+I will take it to her."
+
+So if Pierre dropped in--
+
+There were some stores down on St. Louis street where the imported goods
+from Montreal and Quebec were kept. Laces and finery for the quality,
+silks and brocades, hard as the times were. Jeanne tripped along gayly.
+She would be happy this morning anyhow, as if she was putting off some
+impending evil.
+
+"Take care, child! Ah, it is Jeanne Angelot. Did I run over thee, or
+thou over me?" laughing. "I have not on my glasses, but I ought to see a
+tall slip of a girl like thee."
+
+"Pardon, Monsieur. I was in haste and heedless."
+
+"I have something for thee that will gladden thy heart--a letter. Let me
+see--" beginning to search his pockets, and then taking out a great
+leathern wallet. "No?" staring in surprise. "Then I must have left it on
+my desk at home. Canst thou spend time to run up and get it?"
+
+"Oh, gladly." The words had a ring of joy that touched the man's heart.
+
+"It is well, Mam'selle, that it comes from the father, since it is
+received with such delight."
+
+She did not catch the double meaning. Indeed, Laurent was far from her
+thoughts.
+
+"Thank you a thousand times," with her radiant smile, and he carried the
+bright face into his dingy warehouse.
+
+She went on her way blithe as the gayest bird. A letter from M. St.
+Armand! It had been so long that sometimes she was afraid he might be
+dead, like M. Bellestre. The birds were singing. "A letter," they
+caroled; "a letter, a l-e-t-t-e-r," dwelling on every sound with
+enchanting tenderness.
+
+The old Fleury house overlooked the military garden to the west, and the
+river to the east. There had been an addition built to it, a wing that
+placed the hall in the middle. It was wide, and the door at each end was
+set open. At the back were glimpses of all kinds of greenery and the
+fragrance of blossoming shrubs. A great enameled jar stood midway of the
+hall and had in it a tall blooming rose kept through the winter indoors,
+a Spanish rose growing wild in its own country. The floor was polished,
+the fur rugs had been stowed away, and the curious Indian grass mats
+exhaled a peculiar fragrance. A bird cage hung up high and its inmate
+was warbling an exquisite melody. Jeanne stood quite still and a sense
+of harmonious beauty penetrated her, gave her a vague impression of
+having sometime been part and parcel of it.
+
+"What is it?" demanded the Indian servant. There were very few negroes
+in Detroit, and although there were no factories or mills, French girls
+seldom hired out for domestics.
+
+"Madame Fleury--Monsieur sent me for a letter lying on his desk," Jeanne
+said in a half hesitating manner.
+
+The servant stepped into the room to consult her mistress. Then she said
+to Jeanne:--
+
+"Walk in here, Mademoiselle."
+
+The room was much more richly appointed than the hall, though the
+polished floor was quite bare. A great high-backed settee with a carved
+top was covered with some flowered stuff in which golden threads
+shimmered; there was a tall escritoire going nearly up to the ceiling,
+the bottom with drawers that had curious brass handles, rings spouting
+out of a dragon's mouth. There were glass doors above and books and
+strange ornaments and minerals on the shelves. On the high mantel, and
+very few houses could boast them, stood brass candlesticks and vases of
+colored glass that had come from Venice. There were some quaint
+portraits, family heirlooms ranged round the wall, and chairs with
+carved legs and stuffed backs and seats.
+
+On a worktable lay a book and a piece of lace work over a cushion full
+of pins. By it sat a young lady in musing mood.
+
+She, too, said, "What is it?" but her voice had a soft, lingering
+cadence.
+
+Jeanne explained meeting M. Fleury and his message, but her manner was
+shy and hesitating.
+
+"Oh, then you are Jeanne Angelot, I suppose?" half assertion, half
+inquiry.
+
+"Yes, Mademoiselle," and she folded her hands.
+
+"I think I remember you as a little child. You lived with an Indian
+woman and were a"--no, she could not say "foundling" to this beautiful
+girl, who might have been born to the purple, so fine was her figure,
+her air, the very atmosphere surrounding her.
+
+"I was given to her--Pani. My mother had died," she replied, simply.
+
+"Yes--a letter. Let me see." She rose and went through a wide open
+doorway. Jeanne's eyes followed her. The walls seemed full of arms and
+hunting trophies and fishing tackle, and in the center of the room a
+sort of table with drawers down one side.
+
+"Yes, here. 'Mademoiselle Jeanne Angelot.'" She seemed to study the
+writing. She was quite pretty, Jeanne thought, though rather pale, and
+her silken gown looped up at the side with a great bow of ribbon, fell
+at the back in a long train. Her movements were so soft and gliding that
+the girl was half enchanted.
+
+"You still live with--with the woman?"
+
+"M. Bellestre gave her the house. It is small, but big enough for us
+two. Yes, Mademoiselle. Thank you," as she placed the letter in Jeanne's
+hand, and received in return an enchanting smile. With a courtesy she
+left the room, and walked slowly down the path, trying to think. Some
+girl, for there was gossip even in those days, had said that Mam'selle's
+lover had proved false to her, and married some one else in one of the
+southern cities. Jeanne felt sorry for her.
+
+Lisa Fleury wondered why so much beauty had been given to a girl who
+could make no use of it.
+
+Jeanne hugged her letter to her heart. It had been so long, so long that
+she felt afraid she would never hear again. She wanted to run every step
+of the way, last summer she would have. She almost forgot Wenonah and
+the silk, then laughed at herself, and outside of the palisades she did
+run.
+
+"You are so good," Wenonah said. "Look at this embroidery,--is it not
+grand? And that I used to color threads where now I can use beautiful
+silk. It shines like the sun. The white people have wonderful ways."
+
+Jeanne laughed and opened her letter. She could wait no longer. Oh,
+delightful news! She laughed again in sheer delight, soft, rippling
+notes.
+
+"What is it pleases thee so, Mam'selle?"
+
+"It is my friend who comes back, the grand Monsieur with the beautiful
+white beard, for whose sake I learned to write. I am glad I have learned
+so many things. By another spring he will be here!"
+
+Then Jeanne forgot the somber garment of womanhood that shadowed her
+last night, and danced in the very gladness of her heart. Wenonah smiled
+and then sighed. What if this man of so many years should want to marry
+the child? Such things had been. And there was that fine young De Ber
+just come home. But then, a year was a good while.
+
+"I must go and tell Pani," and she was off like a bird.
+
+Oh, what a glad day it was! The maypole and the dancing were as nothing
+to it. After she had told over her news and they had partaken of a
+simple meal, she dragged the Indian woman off to her favorite haunt in
+the woods, where three great tree boles made a pretty shelter and where
+Pani always fell asleep.
+
+Bees were out buzzing, their curious accompaniment to their work. Or
+were they scolding because flowers were not sweeter? Yellow butterflies
+made a dazzle in the air, that was transparent to-day. The white birches
+were scattering their last year's garments, and she gathered quite a
+roll. Ah, what a wonderful thing it was to live and breathe this
+fragrant air! It exhilarated her with joy as drinking wine might
+another. The mighty spirit of nature penetrated every pulse.
+
+From a little farther up she could see the blue waters, and the distant
+horizon seemed to bound the lake. Would she ever visit the grand places
+of the world? What was a great city such as Quebec like? Would she stay
+here for years and years and grow old like Pani? For somehow she could
+not fancy herself in a home with a husband like Marie Beeson, or Madelon
+Freché, or several of the girls a little older than herself. The
+commonplaces of life, the monotonous work, the continual admiration and
+approval of one man who seemed in no way admirable would be slow death.
+
+"Which is a warning that I must not get married," she thought, and her
+gay laugh rippled under the trees in soft echoes.
+
+She felt more certain of her resolve that evening when Pierre came.
+
+"Where were you all the afternoon?" he said, almost crossly. "I was here
+twice. I felt sure you would expect me."
+
+Jeanne flushed guiltily. She knew she had gone to escape such an
+infliction, and she was secretly glad, yet somehow her heart pricked
+her.
+
+"Oh, you surely have not forgotten that I live half the time in the
+woods;" glancing up mischievously.
+
+"Haven't you outgrown that? There was enough of it yesterday," he said.
+
+"You ought not to complain. What a welcome you had, and what a triumph,
+too!"
+
+"Oh, that was not much. You should see the leaping and the wrestling up
+north. And the great bounds with the pole! That's the thing when one has
+a long journey. And the snowshoes--ah, that is the sport!"
+
+"You liked it up there?"
+
+"I was desperately homesick at first. I had half a mind to run away. But
+when I once got really used to the people and the life--it was the
+making of me, Jeanne."
+
+He stretched up proudly and swelled up his broad chest, enjoying his
+manhood.
+
+"You will go back?" she asked, tentatively.
+
+"Well--that depends. Father wants me to stay. He begins to see that I am
+worth something. But pouf! how do people live in this crowded up town in
+the winter! It is dirtier than ever. The Americans have not improved it
+much. You see there is Rose and Angelique, before Baptiste, and he is
+rather puny, and father is getting old. Then, I could go up north every
+two or three years. Well, one finds out your worth when you go away."
+
+He gave a loud, rather exultant laugh that jarred on Jeanne. Why were
+these rough characteristics so repellant to her? She had lived with them
+all her short life. From whence came the other side of her nature that
+longed for refinement, cultivated speech, and manners? And people of
+real education, not merely the business faculty, the figuring and
+bargain making, were more to her taste. M. Fleury was a gentleman, like
+M. St. Armand.
+
+Pierre stretched out his long legs and crossed his feet, then slipped
+his hands into his pockets. He seemed to take up half the room.
+
+"What have you been doing all the time I was away?" he said, when the
+awkwardness of the silence began to oppress him.
+
+Jeanne made a little crease in her forehead, and a curl came to the rose
+red lip.
+
+"I went to school until Christmas, then there was no teacher for a
+while. And when spring was coming I decided not to go back. I read at
+home. I have some books, and I write to improve myself. I can do it
+quite well in English. Then there is some one at the Fort, a sort of
+minister, who has a class down in the town, St. Louis street, and I go
+there."
+
+"Is the minister a Catholic?"
+
+"No," she answered, briefly.
+
+"That is bad." He shook his head disapprovingly. "But you go to church?"
+
+"There is a little chapel and I like the talk and the singing. I know
+two girls who go there. Sometimes I go with Pani to St. Anne's."
+
+"But you should go all the time, Jeanne. Religion is especially for
+women. They have the children to bring up and to pray for their
+husbands, when they are on voyages or in dangers."
+
+Pierre delivered this with an unpleasant air of masculine authority
+which Jeanne resented in her inmost soul. So she exclaimed rather
+curtly:--
+
+"We will not discuss religion, Monsieur Pierre."
+
+The young man looked amazed. He gave the fringe on his deerskin legging
+a sharp twitch.
+
+"You are still briery, Mam'selle. And yet you are so beautiful that you
+ought to be gentle as well."
+
+"Why do people want to tell me that I am beautiful? Do they not suppose
+I can see it?" Jeanne flung out, impatiently.
+
+"Because it is a sweet thing to say what the speaker feels. And beauty
+and goodness should go hand in hand."
+
+"I am for myself alone;" she returned, proudly. "And if I do not suit
+other people they may take the less of me. There are many pretty girls."
+
+"Oh, Mam'selle," he exclaimed, beseechingly, "do not let us quarrel
+immediately, when I have thought of you so often and longed to see you
+so much! And now that my mother says pleasant things about you--she is
+not so opposed to learning since Tony Beeson has been teaching Marie to
+read and write and figure--and we are all such friends--"
+
+Ah, if they could remain only friends! But Jeanne mistrusted the outcome
+of it.
+
+"Then tell me about the great North instead of talking foolishness; the
+Straits and the wonderful land of snow beyond, and the beautiful
+islands! I like to hear of countries. And, Pierre, far to the south
+flowers bloom and fruit ripens all the year round, luscious things that
+we know nothing about."
+
+Pierre's descriptive faculties were not of a high order. Still when he
+was once under way describing some of the skating and sledging matches
+he did very well, and in this there was no dangerous ground.
+
+The great bell at the Fort clanged out nine.
+
+"It is time to go," Jeanne exclaimed, rising. "That is the signal. And
+Pani has fallen asleep."
+
+Pierre rose disconcerted. The bright face was merry and friendly, that
+was all. Yesterday other girls had treated him with more real warmth and
+pleasure. But there was a certain authority about her not to be
+gainsaid.
+
+"Good night, then," rather gruffly.
+
+"He loves thee, _ma mie_. Hast thou no pity on him?" said Pani, looking
+earnestly at the lovely face.
+
+"I do not want to be loved;" and she gave a dissentient, shivering
+motion. "It displeases me."
+
+"But I am old. And when I am gone--"
+
+The pathetic voice touched the girl and she put her arms around the
+shrunken neck.
+
+"I shall not let you go, ever. I shall try charms and get potions from
+your nation. And then, M. St. Armand is to come. Let us go to bed. I
+want to dream about him."
+
+One of the pitiful mysteries never to be explained is why a man or a
+woman should go on loving hopelessly. For Pierre De Ber had loved Jeanne
+in boyhood, in spite of rebuffs; and there was a certain dogged tenacity
+in his nature that fought against denial. A narrow idea, too, that a
+girl must eventually see what was best for her, and in this he gained
+Pani's sympathy and good will for his wooing.
+
+He was not to be easily daunted. He had improved greatly and gained a
+certain self-reliance that at once won him respect. A fine, tall fellow,
+up in business methods, knowing much of the changes of the fur trade,
+and with shrewdness enough to take advantage where it could be found
+without absolute dishonesty, he was consulted by the more cautious
+traders on many points.
+
+"Thou hast a fine son," one and another would say to M. De Ber; and the
+father was mightily gratified.
+
+There were many pleasures for the young people. It was not all work in
+their lives. Jeanne joined the parties; she liked the canoeing on the
+river, the picnics to the small islands about, and the dances often
+given moonlight evenings on the farms. For never was there a more
+pleasure loving people with all their industry. And then, indeed, simple
+gowns were good enough for most occasions.
+
+Jeanne was ever on the watch not to be left alone with Pierre. Sometimes
+she half suspected Pani of being in league with the young man. So she
+took one and another of the admirers who suited her best, bestowing her
+favors very impartially, she thought, and verging on the other hand to
+the subtle dangers of coquetry. What was there in her smile that should
+seem to summon one with a spell of witchery?
+
+Madame De Ber was full of capricious moods as well. She loved her son,
+and was very proud of him. She selected this girl and that, but no, it
+was useless.
+
+"He has no eyes for anyone but Jeanne," declared Rose half angrily, sore
+at Martin's defection as well, though she was not sure she wanted him.
+"She coquets first with one, then with another, then holds her head
+stiffly above them all. And at the Whitsun dance there was a young
+lieutenant who followed her about and she made so much of him that I was
+ashamed of her for a French maid."
+
+Rose delivered herself with severe dignity, though she had been very
+proud to dance with the American herself.
+
+"Yes, I wish Pierre would see some charm elsewhere. He is old enough now
+to marry. And Jeanne Angelot may be only very little French, though her
+skin has bleached up clearer, and she puts on delicate airs with her
+accent. She will not make a good wife."
+
+"You are talking of Jeanne," and the big body nearly filled the window,
+that had no hangings in summer, and the sash was swung open for air.
+Pierre leaned his elbows on the sill, and his face flushed deeply. "You
+do not like her, I know, but she is the prettiest girl in Detroit, and
+she has a dowry as well."
+
+"And that has a tint of scandal about it," rejoined the mother
+scornfully.
+
+"But Father Rameau disproved that. And, whatever she is, even if she
+were half Indian, I love her! I have always loved her. And I shall marry
+her, even if I have to take her up north and spend my whole life there.
+I know how to make money, and we shall do well enough. And that will be
+the upshot if you and my father oppose me, though I think it is more you
+and Rose."
+
+"Did ever a French son talk so to his mother before? If this is northern
+manners and respect--"
+
+Madame De Ber dropped into a chair and began to cry, and then, a very
+unusual thing it must be confessed, went into hysterics.
+
+"Oh, you have killed her!" screamed Rose.
+
+"She is not dead. Dead people do not make such a noise. Maman, maman,"
+the endearing term of childhood, "do not be so vexed. I will be a good
+son to you always, but I cannot make myself miserable by marrying one
+woman when I love another;" and he kissed her fondly, caressing her with
+his strong hands.
+
+The storm blew over presently. That evening when Père De Ber heard the
+story he said, a little gruffly: "Let the boy alone. He is a fine son
+and smart, and I need his help. I am not as stout as I used to be. And,
+Marie, thou rememberest that thou wert my choice and not that of any
+go-between. We have been happy and had fine children because we loved
+each other. The girl is pretty and sweet."
+
+They came to neighborly sailing after a while. Jeanne knew nothing of
+the dispute, but one day on the river when Martin's canoe was keeping
+time with hers, and he making pretty speeches to her, she said:--
+
+"It is not fair nor right that you should pay such devotion to me,
+Martin. Rose does not like it, and it makes bad friends. And I think you
+care for her, so it is only a jealous play and keeps me uncomfortable."
+
+"Rose does not care for me. She is flying at higher game. And if she
+cannot succeed, I will not be whistled back like a dog whose master has
+kicked him," cried the young fellow indignantly.
+
+"Rose has said I coquetted with you," Jeanne exclaimed with a roseate
+flush and courageous honesty.
+
+"I wish it was something more. Jeanne, you are the sweetest girl in all
+Detroit."
+
+"Oh, no, Martin, nor the prettiest, nor the girl who will make the best
+wife. And I do not want any lovers, nor to be married, which, I suppose,
+is a queer thing. Sometimes I think I will stay in the house altogether,
+but it is so warm and gets dreary, and out-of-doors is so beautiful with
+sunshine and fragrant air. But if I cannot be friends with anyone--"
+
+"We will be friends, then," said Martin Lavosse.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+PIERRE.
+
+
+When Madame De Ber found that Pierre was growing moody and dispirited
+and talked of going up north again, her mother's heart relented.
+Moreover, she could not but see that Jeanne was a great favorite in
+spite of her wild forest ways and love of solitude with a book in hand.
+Her little nook had become a sort of court, so she went there no more,
+for some one was sure to track her. And the great oak was too well
+known. She would drop down the river and fasten her canoe in some
+sheltered spot, and finding a comfortable place sit and read or dream.
+The chapel parson was much interested in her and lent her some wonderful
+books,--a strange story in measured lines by one John Milton, and a
+history of France that seemed so curious to her she could hardly believe
+such people had lived, but the parson said it was all true and that
+there were histories of many other countries. But she liked this because
+Monsieur St. Armand had gone there.
+
+Yet better than all were the dreams of his return. She could see the
+vessel come sailing up the beautiful river and the tall, fine figure
+with the long, silken beard snowy white, and the blue eyes, the smiling
+mouth, hear the voice that had so much music in it, and feel the clasp
+of the hand soft as that of any of the fine ladies. Birds sang and
+insects chirped, wild ducks and swans chattered to their neighbors, and
+great flocks made a dazzle across the blue sky. Some frogs in marshy
+places gave choruses in every key, but nothing disturbed her.
+
+What then?
+
+Something different would come to her life. An old Indian squaw had told
+her fortune a year agone. "You will have many lovers and many
+adventures," she said, "and people coming from far to claim you, but you
+will not go with them. And then another old man, like a father, will
+take you over the seas and you will see wonderful things and get a
+husband who will love you."
+
+What if M. St. Armand should want to take her over the sea? She did not
+belong to anybody; she knew that now, and at times it gave her a
+mortifying pain. Some of the ladies had occasionally noticed her and
+talked with her, but she had a quick consciousness that they did not
+esteem her of their kind. She liked the lovely surroundings of their
+lives, the rustle of their gowns, the glitter of the jewels some of them
+wore, their long, soft white fingers, so different from the stubby hands
+of the habitans. Hers were slim, with pink nails that looked like a bit
+of shell, but they were not white. Perhaps there was a little Indian
+blood that made her so lithe and light, able to climb trees, to swim
+like a fish, and gave her this great love for the wide out-of-doors.
+
+It was hot one afternoon, and she would not go out anywhere. The chamber
+window overlooked the garden, where flowers and sweet herbs were
+growing, and every whiff of wind sent a shower of fragrance within. She
+had dropped her book and gone to dreaming. Pani sat stringing beads for
+some embroidery--or perhaps had fallen into a doze.
+
+There was a step and a cordial "_bon soir_." Jeanne roused at the voice.
+
+"I am glad to find you in, Pani. It is well that you have not much house
+to keep, for then you could not go out so often."
+
+"No. Be seated, Madame, if it please you."
+
+"Yes. I want a little talk about the child, Pani. Monsieur De Ber has
+been in consultation with the notary, M. Loisel, and has laid before him
+a marriage proposal from Pierre. He could see no objections. I did think
+I would like a little more thrift and household knowledge in my son's
+wife, but I am convinced he will never fancy anyone else, and he will be
+well enough fixed to keep a maid, though they are wasteful trollops and
+not like your own people, Pani. And Jeanne has her dowry. Since she has
+no mother or aunt it is but right to consult you, and I know you have
+been friendly to Pierre. It will be a very good marriage for her, and I
+have come to say we are all agreed, and that the betrothal may take
+place as soon as she likes."
+
+Jeanne had listened with amazement and curiosity to the first part of
+the speech and the really pleasant tone of voice. Now she came forward
+and stood in the doorway, her slim figure erect, her waving hair falling
+over her beautiful shoulders, her eyes with the darkness of night in
+them, but the color gone out of her cheeks with the great effort she was
+making to keep calm.
+
+"Madame De Ber," she began, "I could not help hearing what you said. I
+thank you for your kindly feelings toward your son's wishes, but before
+any further steps are taken I want to say that a betrothal is out of the
+question, and that there can be no plan of marriage between us."
+
+"Jeanne Angelot!" Madame's eyes flashed with yellow lights and her black
+brows met in a frown.
+
+"I am sorry that Pierre loves me. I told him long ago, before he went
+away, when we were only children, that I could not be his wife. I tried
+to evade him when he came back, and to show him how useless his hopes
+were. But he would not heed. Even if you had liked and approved me,
+Madame, I might have felt sorrier, but that would not have made me love
+him."
+
+"And, pray, what is the matter with Pierre? He may not be such a gallant
+dancing Jack as the young officer, or a marvelous fiddler like M.
+Loisel's nephew, who I hear has been paying court to you. Mam'selle
+Jeanne Angelot, you have made yourself the talk of the town, and you may
+be glad to have a respectable man marry you."
+
+"Oh, if I were the talk of the town I care too much for Pierre to give
+him such a wife. I would take no man's love when I could not return it.
+And I do not love Pierre. I think love cannot be made, Madame, for if
+you try to make it, it turns to hate. I do not love anyone. I do not
+want to marry!"
+
+"Thou hast not the mark of an old maid, and some day it may fare worse
+with thee!" the visitor flung out angrily.
+
+Jeanne's face blazed at the taunt. A childish impulse seized her to
+strike Madame in the very mouth for it. She kept silence for some
+seconds until the angry blood was a little calmer.
+
+"I trust the good God will keep me safe, Madame," she said tremulously,
+every pulse still athrob. "I pray to him night and morning."
+
+"But thou dost not go to confession or mass. Such prayers of thine own
+planning will never be heard. Thou art a wicked girl, an unbeliever. I
+would have trained thee in the safe way, and cared for thee like a
+mother. But that is at an end. Now I would not receive thee in my house,
+if my son lay dying."
+
+"I shall not come. Do not fear, Madame. And I am truly sorry for Pierre
+when there are so many fine girls who would be glad of a nice husband. I
+hope he will be happy and get some one you can all love."
+
+Madame was speechless. The soft answer had blunted her weapons. Jeanne
+turned away, glided into the chamber and the next instant had leaped out
+of the window. There was a grassy spot in the far corner of the garden,
+shaded by their neighbor's walnut tree. She flung herself down upon it,
+and buried her face in the cool grass.
+
+"My poor son! my poor son!" moaned Madame. "She has no heart, that
+child! She is not human. Pani, it was not a child the squaw dropped in
+your arms, it was--"
+
+"Hush! hush!" cried Pani, rising and looking fierce as if she might
+attack Madame. "Do not utter it. She was made a Christian child in the
+church. She is sweet and good, and if she cannot love a husband, the
+saints and the holy Mother know why, and will forgive her."
+
+"My poor Pierre! But she is not worth his sorrow. Only he is so
+obstinate. Last night he declared he would never take a wife while she
+was single. And to deprive him of happiness! To refuse when I had
+sacrificed my own feelings and meant to be a mother to her! No, she is
+not human. I pity you, Pani."
+
+Then Madame swept out of the door with majestic dignity. Pani clasped
+her arms about her knees and rocked herself to and fro, while the old
+superstitions and weird legends of her race rushed over her. The mother
+might have died, but who was the father? There was some strange blood in
+the child.
+
+"Heaven and the saints and the good God keep watch over her!" she prayed
+passionately. Then she ran out into the small yard.
+
+"Little one, little one--" her voice was tremulous with fear.
+
+Jeanne sprang up and clasped her arms about Pani's neck. How warm and
+soft they were. And her cheek was like a rose leaf.
+
+"Pani," between a cry and a laugh, "do lovers keep coming on forever?
+There was Louis Marsac and Pierre, and Martin Lavosse angry with Rose,
+and"--her cheek was hot now against Pani's cool one, throbbing with
+girlish confusion.
+
+"Because thou art beautiful, child."
+
+"Then I wish I were ugly. Oh, no, I do not, either." Would M. St. Armand
+like her so well if she were ugly? "Ah, I do not wonder women become
+nuns--sometimes. And I am sincerely sorry for Pierre. I suppose the De
+Bers will never speak to me again. Pani, it is growing cooler now, let
+us go out in the woods. I feel stifled. I wish we had a wigwam up in the
+forest. Come."
+
+Pani put away her work.
+
+"Let us go the other way, the _chemin du ronde_, to the gate. Rose may
+be gossiping with some of the neighbors."
+
+They walked down that way. There was quite a throng at King's wharf.
+Some new boats had come in. One and another nodded to Jeanne; but just
+as she was turning a hand touched her arm, too lightly to be the jostle
+of the throng. She was in no mood for familiarities, and shook it off
+indignantly.
+
+"Mam'selle Jeanne Angelot," a rather rich voice said in a laughing tone.
+
+She guessed before she even changed the poise of her head. What cruel
+fate followed her!
+
+"Nay, do not look so fierce! How you have grown, yet I should have known
+you among a thousand."
+
+"Louis Marsac!" The name seemed wrested from her. She could feel the
+wrench in her mind.
+
+"Then you have not forgotten me! Mam'selle, I cannot help it--" with a
+deprecation in his voice that was an apology and begged for condonation.
+"You were pretty before, but you have grown wonderfully beautiful. You
+will allow an old friend to say it."
+
+His eyes seemed to devour her, from her dusky head to the finger tips,
+nay, even to the slim ankles, for skirts were worn short among the
+ordinary women. Only the quality went in trailing gowns, and held them
+up carefully in the unpaved ways.
+
+"If you begin to compliment, I shall dismiss you from the list of my
+acquaintances. It is foolish and ill-bred. And if you go around praising
+every pretty girl in Le Detroit, you will have no time left for
+business, Monsieur."
+
+Her face set itself in resolute lines, her voice had a cold scornfulness
+in it.
+
+"Is this all the welcome you have for me? I have been in but an hour,
+and busy enough with these dolts in unloading. Then I meant to hunt you
+up instead of going to sup with Monsieur Meldrum, with whom I have much
+business, but an old friend should have the first consideration."
+
+"I am not sure, Monsieur, that I care for friends. I have found them
+troublesome. And you would have had your effort for nothing. Pani and I
+would not be at home."
+
+"You are the same briery rose, Jeanne," with an amused laugh. "So sweet
+a one does well to be set in thorns. Still, I shall claim an old
+friend's privilege. And I have no end of stirring adventures for your
+ear. I have come now from Quebec, where the ladies are most gracious and
+charming."
+
+"Then I shall not please you, Monsieur," curtly. "Come, Pani," linking
+her arm in that of the woman, "let us get out of the crowd," and she
+nodded a careless adieu.
+
+They turned into a sort of lane that led below the palisades.
+
+"Pani," excitedly, "let us go out on the river. There will be an early
+moon, and we shall not mind so that we get in by nine. And we need not
+stop to gossip with people, canoes are not so friendly as woodland
+paths."
+
+Her laugh was forced and a little bitter.
+
+Pani had hardly recovered from her surprise. She nodded assent with a
+feeling that she had been stricken dumb. It was not altogether Louis
+Marsac's appearance, he had been expected last summer and had not come.
+She had almost forgotten about him. It was Jeanne's mood that perplexed
+her so. The two had been such friends and playmates, one might say, only
+a few years ago. He had been a slave to her pretty whims then. She had
+decorated his head with feathers and called him Chief of Detroit, or she
+had twined daisy wreaths and sweet grasses about his neck. He had bent
+down the young saplings that she might ride on them, a graceful,
+fearless child. They had run races,--she was fleet as the wind and he
+could not always catch her. He had gathered the first ripe wild
+strawberries, not bigger than the end of her little finger, but, oh, how
+luscious! She had quarreled with him, too, she had struck him with a
+feathery hemlock branch, until he begged her pardon for some fancied
+fault, and nothing had suited him better than to loll under the great
+oak tree, listening to Pani's story and all the mysterious suppositions
+of her coming. Then he told wild legends of the various tribes, talked
+in a strange, guttural accent, danced a war dance, and was almost as
+much her attendant as Pani.
+
+But the three years had allowed him to escape from the woman's memory,
+as any event they might expect again in their lives. Hugh de Marsac had
+turned into something of an explorer, beside his profitable connection
+with the fur company. The copper mines on Lake Superior had stirred up a
+great interest, and plans were being made to work them to a better
+advantage than the Indians had ever done. Fortunes were the dream of
+mankind even then; though this was destined to end in disappointment.
+
+Jeanne chose her canoe and they pushed out. She was in no haste, and few
+people were going down the river, not many anywhere except on business.
+The numerous holy days of the Church, which gave to religion an hour or
+two in the morning and devoted to pleasure the rest of the day, set the
+river in a whirl of gayety. Ordinary days were for work.
+
+The air was soft and fragrant. Some sea gulls started from a sandy nook
+with disturbed cries, then returned as if they knew the girl. A fishhawk
+darted swiftly down, having seen his prey in the clear water and
+captured it. There were farms stretching down the river now, with rough
+log huts quite distinct from the whitewashed or vine-covered cottages of
+the French. But the fields betrayed a more thrifty cultivation. There
+were young orchards nodding in the sunshine, great stretches of waving
+maize fields, and patches of different grains. Little streams danced out
+here and there and gurgled into the river, as if they were glad to be
+part of it.
+
+"Pani, do you suppose we could go ever so far down and build a tent or a
+hut and live there all the rest of the summer?"
+
+"But I thought you liked the woods!"
+
+"I like being far away. I am tired of Detroit."
+
+"Mam'selle, it would hardly be safe. There are still unfriendly Indians.
+And--the loneliness of it! For there are some evil spirits about, though
+Holy Church has banished them from the town."
+
+Occasionally her old beliefs and fears rushed over the Indian woman and
+shook her in a clutch of terror. She felt safest in her own little nest,
+under the shadow of the Citadel, with the high, sharp palisades about
+her, when night came on.
+
+"Art thou afraid of Madame De Ber?" she asked, hesitatingly. "For of a
+truth she did not want you for her son's wife."
+
+"I know it. Pierre made them all agree to it. I am sorry for Pierre, and
+yet he has the blindness of a mole. I am not the kind of wife he wants.
+For though there is so much kissing and caressing at first, there are
+dinners and suppers, and the man is cross sometimes because other things
+go wrong. And he smells of the skins and oils and paints, and the dirt,
+too," laughing. "Faugh! I could not endure it. I would rather dwell in
+the woods all my life. Why, I should come to hate such a man! I should
+run away or kill myself. And that would be a bitter self-punishment, for
+I love so to live if I can have my own life. Pani, why do men want one
+particular woman? Susette is blithe and merry, and Angelique is pretty
+as a flower, and when she spins she makes a picture like one the
+schoolmaster told me about. Oh, yes, there are plenty of girls who would
+be proud and glad to keep Pierre's house. Why does not the good God give
+men the right sense of things?"
+
+Pani turned her head mournfully from side to side, and the shrunken lips
+made no reply.
+
+Then they glided on and on. The blue, sunlit arch overhead, the waving
+trees that sent dancing shadows like troops of elfin sprites over the
+water, the fret in one place where a rock broke the murmurous lapping,
+the swish somewhere else, where grasses and weeds and water blooms
+rooted in the sedge rocked back and forth with the slow tide--how
+peaceful it all was!
+
+Yet Jeanne Angelot was not at peace. Why, when the woods or the river
+always soothed her? And it was not Pierre who disturbed the current, who
+lay at the bottom like some evil spirit, reaching up long, cruel arms to
+grasp her. Last summer she had put Louis Marsac out of her life with an
+exultant thrill. He would forget all about her. He would or had married
+some one up North, and she was glad.
+
+He had come back. She knew now what this look in a man's eyes meant. She
+had seen it in a girl's eyes, too, but the girl had the right, and was
+offering incense to her betrothed. Oh, perhaps--perhaps some other one
+might attract him, for he was very handsome, much finer and more manly
+than when he went away.
+
+Why did not Pani say something about him? Why did she sit there half
+asleep?
+
+"Wasn't it queer, Pani, that we should go so near the wharf, when we
+were trying to run away--"
+
+She ended with a short laugh, in which there was neither pleasure nor
+mirth.
+
+Pani glanced up with distressful eyes.
+
+"Eh, child!" she cried, with a sort of anguish, "it is a pity thou wert
+made so beautiful."
+
+"But there are many pretty girls, and great ladies are lovely to look
+at. Why should I not have some of the charm? It gives one satisfaction."
+
+"There is danger for thee in it. Perhaps, after all, the Recollet house
+would be best for thee."
+
+"No, no;" with a passionate protest. "And, Pani, no man can make me
+marry him. I would scream and cry until the priest would feel afraid to
+say a word."
+
+Pani put her thin, brown hand over the plump, dimpled one; and her eyes
+were large and weird.
+
+"Thou art afraid of Louis Marsac," she said.
+
+"Oh, Pani, I am, I am!" The voice was tremulous, entreating. "Did you
+see something in his face, a curious resolve, and shall I call it
+admiration? I hope he has a wife. Oh, I know he has not! Pani, you must
+help me, guard me."
+
+"There is M. Loisel, who would not have thee marry against thy will. I
+wish Father Rameau were home--he comes in the autumn."
+
+"I do not want to marry anyone. I am a strange girl. Marie Beeson said
+some girls were born old maids, and surely I am one. I like the older
+men who give you fatherly looks, and call you child, and do not press
+your hand so tight. Yet the young men who can talk are pleasant to meet.
+Pani, did you love your husband?"
+
+"Indian girls are different. My father brought a brave to the wigwam and
+we had a feast and a dance. The next morning I went away with him. He
+was not cruel, but you see squaws are beasts of burthens. I was only a
+child as you consider it. Then there came a great war between two tribes
+and the victors sold their prisoners. It is so long ago that it seems
+like a story I have heard."
+
+The young wives Jeanne knew were always extolling their husbands, but
+she thought in spite of their many virtues she would not care to have
+them. What made her so strange, so obstinate!
+
+"Pani," in a low tone scarce above the ripple of the water, "M. Marsac
+is very handsome. The Indian blood does not show much in him."
+
+"Yes, child. He is improved. There is--what do you call it?--the grand
+air about him, like a gentleman, only he was impertinent to thee."
+
+"You will not be persuaded to like him? It was different with Pierre."
+
+Jeanne made this concession with a slight hesitation.
+
+"Oh, little one, I will never take pity on anyone again if you do not
+care for him! The Holy Mother of God hears me promise that. I was sorry
+for Pierre and he is a good lad. He has not learned to drink rum and is
+reverent to his father. It is a thousand pities that he should love you
+so."
+
+Pani kissed the hand she held; Jeanne suddenly felt light of heart
+again.
+
+Down the river they floated and up again when the silver light was
+flooding everything with a softened glory. Jeanne drew her canoe in
+gently, there was no one down this end, and they took a longer way
+around to avoid the drinking shops. The little house was quiet and dark
+with no one to waylay them.
+
+"You will never leave me alone, Pani," and she laid her head on the
+woman's shoulder. "Then when M. St. Armand comes next year--"
+
+She prayed to God to keep him safely, she even uttered a little prayer
+to the Virgin. But could the Divine Mother know anything of girls'
+troubles?
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+AN UNWELCOME LOVER.
+
+
+Louis Marsac stood a little dazed as the slim, proudly carried figure
+turned away from him. He was not much used to such behavior from women.
+He was both angry and amused.
+
+"She was ever an uncertain little witch, but--to an old friend! I dare
+say lovers have turned her head. Perhaps I have waited too long."
+
+There was too much pressing business for him to speculate on a girl's
+waywardness; orders to give, and then important matters to discuss at
+the warehouse before he made himself presentable at the dinner. The
+three years had added much to Marsac's store of knowledge, as well as to
+his conscious self-importance. He had been in grand houses, a favored
+guest, in spite of the admixture of Indian blood. His father's position
+was high, and Louis held more than one fortunate chance in his hand.
+Developing the country was a new and attractive watchword. He had no
+prejudices as to who should rule, except that he understood that the
+French narrowness and bigotry had served them ill. Religion was, no
+doubt, an excellent thing; the priests helped to keep order and were in
+many respects serviceable. As for the new rulers, one need to be a
+little wary of too profound a faith in them. The Indians had not been
+wholly conquered, the English dreamed of re-conquest.
+
+Detroit was not much changed under the new régime. Louis liked the great
+expanse at the North better. The town was only for business.
+
+He had a certain polish and graceful manner that had come from the
+French side, and an intelligence that was practical and appealed to men.
+He had the suavity and deference that pleased women, if he knew little
+about poets and writers, then coming to be the fashion. His French was
+melodious, the Indian voice scarcely perceptible.
+
+In these three years there had been months that he had never thought of
+Jeanne Angelot, and he might have let her slip from his memory but for a
+slender thread that interested him, and of which he at last held the
+clew. If he found her unmarried--well, a marriage with him would advance
+her interests, if not--was it worth while to take trouble that could be
+of no benefit to one's self?
+
+Was it an omen of success that she should cross his path almost the
+first thing, grown into a slim, handsome girl, with glorious eyes and a
+rose red mouth that he would have liked to kiss there in the public
+street? How proud and dignified she had been, how piquant and daring and
+indifferent to flattery! The saints forfend! It was not flattery at all,
+but the living truth.
+
+The next day he was very busy, but he stole away once to the great oak.
+Some children were playing about it, but she was not there. And there
+was a dance that evening, given really for his entertainment, so he
+must participate in it.
+
+The second day he sauntered with an indifferent air to the well known
+spot. A few American soldiers were busy about the barracks. How odd not
+to see a bit of prancing scarlet!
+
+The door was closed top and bottom. The tailor's wife sat on her
+doorstep, her husband on his bench within.
+
+"They have gone away, M'sieu," she said. "They went early this morning."
+
+He nodded. Monsieur De Ber had met him most cordially and invited him to
+drop in and see Madame. They were in the lane that led to St. Anne's
+street; he need not go out of his way.
+
+He was welcomed with true French hospitality. Rose greeted him with a
+delighted surprise, coquettish and demure, being under her mother's
+sharp eye. Yes, here was a pretty girl!
+
+"My husband was telling about the wonderful copper mines," Madame began
+with great interest. "There was where the Indians brought it from, I
+suppose, but in the old years they kept very close about it. No doubt
+there are fortunes and fortunes in them;" glancing up with interest.
+
+"My father is getting a fortune out of them. He has a large tract of
+land thereabout. If there should be peace for years there will be great
+prosperity, and Detroit will have her share. It has not changed much
+except about the river front. Do you like the Americans for neighbors as
+well as the English?"
+
+Madame gave a little shrug. "They do not spend their money so readily,
+my husband says."
+
+"They have less to spend," with a short laugh. "Some of the best English
+families are gone. I met them at Quebec. Ah, Madame, there is a town for
+you!" and his eyes sparkled.
+
+"It is very gay, I suppose," subjoined Rose.
+
+"Gay and prosperous. Mam'selle, you should be taken there once to show
+them how Detroit maids bloom. There is much driving about, while here--"
+
+"The town spreads outside. There are some American farmers, but their
+methods are wild and queer."
+
+"You have a fine son, Madame, and a daughter married, I hear. Mam'selle,
+are many of the neighborhood girls mated?"
+
+"Oh, a dozen or so," laughed Rose. "But--let me see, the wild little
+thing, Jeanne Angelot, that used to amuse the children by her pranks,
+still roams the woods with her Pani woman."
+
+"Then she has not found a lover?" carelessly.
+
+"She plays too much with them, Monsieur. It is every little while a new
+one. She settles to nothing, and I think the schooling and the money did
+her harm. But there was no one in authority, and it is not even as if M.
+Loisel had a wife, you see;" explained Madame, with emphasis.
+
+"The money?" raising his brows, curiously.
+
+"Oh, it was a little M. Bellestre left," and a fine bit of scorn crossed
+Madame's face. "There was some gossip over it. She has too much liberty,
+but there is no one to say a word, and she goes to the heretic chapel
+since Father Rameau has been up North. He comes back this autumn. Father
+Gilbert is very good, but he is more for the new people and the home for
+the sisters. There are some to come from the Ursuline convent at
+Montreal, I hear."
+
+Marsac was not interested in the nuns. After a modicum of judicious
+praise to Madame, he departed, promising to come in again.
+
+When a week had elapsed and he had not seen Jeanne he was more than
+piqued, he was angry. Then he bethought himself of the Protestant
+chapel. Pani could not bring herself to enter it, but Jeanne had found a
+pleasing and devoted American woman who came in every Sunday and they
+met at a point convenient to both. Pani walked to this trysting spot for
+her darling.
+
+And now she was fairly caught. Louis Marsac bowed in the politest
+fashion and wished her good day in a friendly tone, ranging himself
+beside her. Jeanne's color came and went, and she put her hands in a
+clasp instead of letting them hang down at her side as they had a moment
+before. Her answers were brief, a simple "yes" or "no," or "I do not
+know, Monsieur."
+
+And Pani was not there! Jeanne bade her friend a gentle good day and
+then holding her head very straight walked on.
+
+"Mam'selle," he began in his softest voice, though his heart was raging,
+"are we no longer friends, when we used to have such merry times under
+the old oak? I have remembered you; I have said times without number,
+'When I go back to La Belle Detroit, my first duty will be to hunt up
+little Jeanne Angelot. If she is married I shall return with a heavy
+heart.' But she is not--"
+
+"Monsieur, if thy light-heartedness depends on that alone, thou mayst go
+back cheerily enough," she replied formally. "I think I am one of St.
+Catharine's maids and in the other world will spend my time combing her
+hair. Thou mayst come and go many times, perhaps, and find me Jeanne
+Angelot still."
+
+"Have you forsworn marriage? For a handsome girl hardly misses a lover."
+
+He was trying to keep his temper in the face of such a plain denial.
+
+"I am not for marriage," she returned briefly.
+
+"You are young to be so resolute."
+
+"Let us not discuss the matter;" and now her tone was haughty,
+forbidding.
+
+"A father would have authority to change your mind, or a guardian."
+
+"But I have no father, you know."
+
+He nodded doubtfully. She felt rather than saw the incredulous half
+smile. Had he some plot in hand? Why should she distrust him so?
+
+"Jeanne, we were such friends in that old time. I have carried you in my
+arms when you were a light, soft burthen. I have held you up to catch
+some branch where you could swing like a cat. I have hunted the woods
+with you for flowers and berries and nuts, and been obedient to your
+pretty whims because I loved you. I love you still. I want you for my
+wife. Jeanne, you shall have silks and laces, and golden gauds and
+servants to wait on you--"
+
+"I told you, Monsieur, I was not for marriage," she interrupted in the
+coldest of tones.
+
+"Every woman is, if you woo her long enough and strong enough."
+
+He tried very earnestly to keep the sneer out of his voice, but hardly
+succeeded. His face flushed, his eyes shone with a fierce light. Have
+this girl he would. She should see who was master.
+
+"Monsieur, that is ungentlemanly."
+
+"_Monsieur!_ In the old time, it was Louis."
+
+"We have outgrown the old times," carelessly.
+
+"I have not. Nor my love."
+
+"Then I am sorry for you. But it cannot change my mind."
+
+The way was very narrow now. She made a quick motion and passed him. But
+she might better have sent him on ahead, instead of giving him this
+study of her pliant grace. The exquisite curves of her figure in its
+thin, close gown, the fair neck gleaming through the soft curls, the
+beautiful shoulders, the slim waist with a ribbon for belt, the light,
+gliding step that scarcely moved her, held an enthralling charm. He had
+a passionate longing to clasp his arms about her. All the hot blood
+within him was roused, and he was not used to being denied.
+
+There was one little turn. Pani was not sitting before the door. Oh,
+where was she? A terror seized Jeanne, yet she commanded her voice and
+moved just a trifle, though she did not look at him. He saw that she had
+paled; she was afraid, and a cruel exultation filled him.
+
+"Monsieur, I am at home," she said. "Your escort was not needed," and
+she summoned a vague smile. "There is little harm in our streets, except
+when the traders are in, and Pani is generally my guard. Then for us the
+soldiers are within call. Good day, Monsieur Marsac."
+
+"Nay, my pretty one, you must be gentler and not so severe to make it a
+good day for me. And I am resolved that it shall be. See, Jeanne, I have
+always loved you, and though there have been years between I have not
+forgotten. You shall be my wife yet. I will not give you up. I shall
+stay here in Detroit until I have won you. No other demoiselle would be
+so obdurate."
+
+"Because I do not love you, Monsieur," and she gave the appellation its
+most formal sound. "And soon I shall begin to hate you!"
+
+Oh, how handsome she looked as she stood there in a kind of noble
+indignation, her heart swelling above her girdle, the child's sweetness
+still in the lines of her face and figure, as the bud when it is just
+about to burst into bloom. He longed to crush her in one eager embrace,
+and kiss the nectar of her lovely lips, even if he received a blow for
+it as before. That would pile up a double revenge.
+
+Pani burst from the adjoining cottage.
+
+"Oh," she cried, studying one and the other. "_Ma fille_, the poor
+tailor, Philippe! He had a fit come on, and his poor wife screamed for
+help, so I hurried in. And now the doctor says he is dying. O Monsieur
+Marsac, would you kindly find some one in the street to run for a
+priest?"
+
+"I will go," with a most obliging smile and inclination of the head.
+
+Jeanne clasped her arms about Pani's neck, and, laying her head on the
+shrunken bosom, gave way to a flood of tears.
+
+"_Ma petite_, has he dared--"
+
+"He loves me, Pani, with a fierce, wicked passion. I can see it in his
+eyes. Afterward, when things went wrong, he would remember and beat me.
+He kissed me once on the mouth and I struck him. He will never forget.
+But then, rather than be his wife, I would kill myself. I will not, will
+not do it."
+
+"No, _mon ange_, no, no. Pierre would be a hundred times better. And he
+would take thee away."
+
+"But I want no one. Keep me from him, Pani. Oh, if we could go away--"
+
+"Dear--the good sisters would give us shelter."
+
+Jeanne shook her head. "If Father Rameau were but here. Father Gilbert
+is sharp and called me a heretic. Perhaps I am. I cannot count beads any
+more. And when they brought two finger bones of some one long dead to
+St. Anne's, and all knelt down and prayed to them, and Father Gilbert
+blessed them, and said a touch would cure any disease and help a dying
+soul through purgatory, I could not believe it. Why did it not cure
+little Marie Faus when her hip was broken, and the great running sore
+never stopped and she died? And he said it was a judgment against
+Marie's mother because she would not live with her drunken brute of a
+husband. No, I do not think Père Gilbert would take me in unless I
+recanted."
+
+"Oh, come, come," cried Pani. "Poor Margot is most crazed. And I cannot
+leave you here alone."
+
+They entered the adjoining cottage. There were but two rooms and
+overhead a great loft with a peaked roof where the children slept.
+Philippe lay on the floor, his face ghastly and contorted. There were
+some hemlock cushions under him, and his poor wife knelt chafing his
+hands.
+
+"It is of no use," said the doctor. "Did some one summon the priest?"
+
+"Immediately," returned Pani.
+
+"And there is poor Antoine on the Badeau farm, knowing nothing of this,"
+cried the weeping mother.
+
+The baby wailed a sorrowful cry as if in sympathy. It had been a puny
+little thing. Three other small ones stood around with frightened faces.
+
+Jeanne took up the baby and bore it out into the small garden, where she
+walked up and down and crooned to it so sweetly it soon fell asleep. The
+next younger child stole thither and caught her gown, keeping pace with
+tiny steps. How long the moments seemed! The hot sun beat down, but it
+was cool here under the tree. How many times in the stifling afternoons
+Philippe had brought his work out here! He had grown paler and thinner,
+but no one had seemed to think much of it. What a strange thing death
+was! What was the other world like--and purgatory? The mother of little
+Marie Faus was starving herself to pay for the salvation of her
+darling's soul.
+
+"Oh, I should not like to die!" and Jeanne shuddered.
+
+The priest came, but it was not Father Gilbert. The last rites were
+performed over the man who might be dead already. The baby and the
+little girl were brought in and the priest blessed them. There were
+several neighbors ready to perform the last offices, and now Jeanne took
+all the children out under the tree.
+
+Louis Marsac returned, presently, and offered his help in any matter,
+crowding some money into the poor, widowed hand. Jeanne he could see
+nowhere. Pani was busy.
+
+The next day he paid M. Loisel a visit, and stated his wishes.
+
+"You see, Monsieur, Jeanne Angelot is in some sort a foundling, and many
+families would not care to take her in. That I love her will be
+sufficient for my father, and her beauty and sweetness will do the rest.
+She will live like a queen and have servants to wait on her. There are
+many rich people up North, and, though the winters are long, no one
+suffers except the improvident. And I think I have loved Mam'selle from
+a little child. Then, too," with an easy smile, "there is a suspicion
+that some Indian blood runs in Mam'selle's veins. On that ground we are
+even."
+
+Yes, M. Loisel had heard that. Mixed marriages were not approved of by
+the better class French, but a small share of Indian blood was not
+contemned. When it came to that, Louis Marsac was not a person to be
+lightly treated. His father had much influence with the Indian tribes
+and was a rich man.
+
+So the notary laid the matter before Pani and his ward, when the funeral
+was over, though he would rather have pleaded for his nephew. It was a
+most excellent proffer.
+
+But he was not long in learning that Jeanne Angelot had not only dislike
+but a sort of fear and hatred for the young man; and that nothing was
+farther from her thoughts. Yet he wondered a little that the fortune and
+adoration did not tempt her.
+
+"Well, well, my child, we shall not be sorry to have you left in old
+Detroit. Some of our pretty girls have been in haste to get away to
+Quebec or to the more eastern cities. Boston, they say, is a fine place.
+And at New York they have gay doings. But we like our own town and have
+all the pleasure that is good for one. So I am glad to have thee stay."
+
+"If I loved him it would be different. But I think this kind of love has
+been left out of me," and she colored daintily. "All other loves and
+gratitude have been put in, and oh, M'sieu, such an adoration for the
+beautiful world God has made. Sometimes I go down on my knees in the
+forest, everything speaks to me so,--the birds and the wind among the
+trees, the mosses with dainty blooms like a pin's head, the velvet
+lichens with rings of gray and brown and pink. And the little lizards
+that run about will come to my hand, and the deer never spring away,
+while the squirrels chatter and laugh and I talk back to them. Then I
+have grown so fond of books. Some of them have strange melodies in them
+that I sing to myself. Oh, no, I do not want to be a wife and have a
+house to keep, neither do I want to go away."
+
+"Thou art a strange child."
+
+M. Loisel leaned over and kissed her on the crown of her head where the
+parting shone white as the moon at its full. Lips and rosy mouths were
+left for lovers in those days.
+
+"And you will make him understand?"
+
+"I will do my best. No one can force a damsel into marriage nowadays."
+
+Opposition heightened Louis Marsac's desires. Then he generally had his
+way with women. He did not need to work hard to win their hearts. Even
+here in spite of Indian blood, maids smiled on the handsome, jaunty
+fellow who went arrayed in the latest fashion, and carried it off with
+the air of a prince. There was another sort of secret dimly guessed at
+that would be of immense advantage to him, but he had the wariness of
+the mother's side as well as the astuteness of the father.
+
+A fortnight went by with no advantage. Pani never left her charge alone.
+The rambles in the woods were given up, and the girl's heart almost died
+within her for longing. She helped poor Margot nurse her children, and
+if Marsac came on a generous errand they surrounded her and swarmed
+over her. He could have killed them with a good will. She would not go
+out on the river nor join the girls in swimming matches nor take part in
+dances. Sometimes with Pani she spent mornings in the minister's study,
+and read aloud or listened to him while his wife sat sewing.
+
+"You are not easily tempted," said the good wife one day. "It is no
+secret that this young trader, M. Marsac, is wild for love of you."
+
+"But I do not like him, how then could I give him love?" and she glanced
+out of proud, sincere eyes, while a soft color fluttered in her face.
+
+"No, that could not be," assentingly.
+
+The demon within him that Louis Marsac called love raged and rose to
+white heat. If he could even carry her off! But that would be a foolish
+thing. She might be rescued, and he would lose the good opinion of many
+who gave him a flattering sympathy now.
+
+So the weeks went on. The boats were loaded with provision, some of them
+started on their journey. He came one evening and found Jeanne and her
+protector sitting in their doorway. Jeanne was light-hearted. She had
+heard he was to sail to-morrow.
+
+"I have come to bid my old playmate and friend good-by," and there was a
+sweet pathos in his voice that woke a sort of tenderness in the girl's
+heart, for it brought back a touch of the old pleasant days before he
+had really grown to manhood, when they sat under her oak and listened to
+Pani's legendary stories.
+
+"I wish you _bon voyage_, Monsieur."
+
+"Say Louis just once. It will be a bit of music to which I shall sail up
+the river."
+
+"Monsieur Louis."
+
+The tone was clear and no warmth penetrated it. He could see her face
+distinctly in the moonlight and it was passive in its beauty.
+
+"Thou hast not forgiven me. If I knelt--"
+
+"Nay!" she sprang up and stood at Pani's back. "There is nothing to
+kneel for. When you are away I shall strive to forget your insistence--"
+
+"And remember that it sprang from love," he interrupted. "Jeanne, is
+your heart of marble that nothing moves it? There are curious stories of
+women who have little human warmth in them--who are born of strange
+parents."
+
+"Monsieur, that is wrong. Jeanne hath ever been loving and fond from the
+time she put her little arms around my neck. She is kindly and
+tender--the poor tailor's lonely woman will tell you. And she spent
+hours with poor Madame Campeau when her own daughter left her and went
+away to a convent, comforting her and reading prayers. No, she is not
+cold hearted."
+
+"Then you have taken all her love," complainingly.
+
+"It is not that, either," returned the woman.
+
+"Jeanne, I shall love thee always, cruel as thou hast been. And if thou
+art so generous as to pray for others, say a little prayer that will
+help me bear my loneliness through the cold northern winter that I had
+hoped might be made warm and bright by thy presence. Have a little pity
+if thou hast no love."
+
+He was mournfully handsome as he stood there in the silvery light.
+Almost her heart was moved. She said a special prayer for only one
+person, but Louis Marsac might slip into the other class that was "all
+the world."
+
+"Monsieur, I will remember," bowing a little.
+
+"Oh, lovely icicle, you are enough to freeze a man's soul, and yet you
+rouse it to white heat! I can make no impression I see. Adieu, adieu."
+
+He gave a sudden movement and would have kissed her mouth but she put
+her hand across it, and Pani, divining the endeavor, rose at the same
+instant.
+
+"Mam'selle Jeanne Angelot, you will repent this some day!" and his tone
+was bitter with revenge.
+
+Then he plunged down the street with an unsteady gait and was lost in
+the darkness.
+
+"Pani, come in, bar the door. And the shutter must be fastened;" pulling
+the woman hastily within.
+
+"But the night will be hot."
+
+"It is cooler now. There has been a fresh breeze from the river. And--I
+am sore afraid."
+
+It was true that the night dews and the river gave a coolness to the
+city at night, and on the other side was the great sweep of woods and
+hills.
+
+Nothing came to disturb them. Jeanne was restless and had bad dreams,
+then slept soundly until after sunrise.
+
+"Antoine," she said to the tailor's little lad, "go down to the wharf
+and watch until the 'Flying Star' sails up the river. The tide is
+early. I will reward you well."
+
+"O Mam'selle, I will do it for love;" and he set off on a trot.
+
+"There are many kinds of love," mused Jeanne. "Strange there should be a
+kind that makes one afraid."
+
+At ten the "Flying Star" went up the river.
+
+"Thou hast been a foolish girl, Jeanne Angelot!" declared one of the
+neighbors. "Think how thou mightst have gone up the river on a wedding
+journey, and a handsome young husband such as falls to the lot of few
+maids, with money in plenty and furs fit for a queen. And there is, no
+doubt, some Indian blood in thy veins! Thou hast always been wild as a
+deer and longing to live out of doors."
+
+Jeanne only laughed. She was so glad to feel at liberty once more. For a
+month she had virtually been a prisoner.
+
+Madame De Ber, though secretly glad, joined the general disapproval. She
+had half hoped he might fancy Rose, who sympathized warmly with him. She
+could have forgiven the alien blood if she had seen Rose go up the
+river, in state, to such a future.
+
+And though Jeanne was not so much beyond childhood, it was settled that
+she would be an old maid. She did not care.
+
+"Let us go out under the oak, Pani," she exclaimed. "I want to look at
+something different from the Citadel and the little old houses,
+something wide and free, where the wind can blow about, and where there
+are waves of sweetness bathing one's face like a delightful sea. And
+to-morrow we will take to the woods. Do you suppose the birds and the
+squirrels have wondered?"
+
+She laughed gayly and danced about joyously.
+
+Wenonah sat at her hut door making a cape of gull's feathers for an
+officer's wife.
+
+"You did not go north, little one," and she glanced up with a smile of
+approval.
+
+For to her Jeanne would always be the wild, eager, joyous child who had
+whistled and sung with the birds, and could never outgrow childhood. She
+looked not more than a dozen years old to-day.
+
+"No, no, no. Wenonah, why do you cease to care for people, when you have
+once liked them? Yet I am sorry for Louis. I wish he had loved some one
+else. I hope he will."
+
+"No doubt there are those up there who have shared his heart and his
+wigwam until he tired of them. And he will console himself again. You
+need not give him so much pity."
+
+"Wenonah!" Jeanne's face was a study in surprise.
+
+"I am glad, Mam'selle, that his honeyed tongue did not win you. I wanted
+to warn, but the careful Pani said there was no danger. My brave has
+told some wild stories about him when he has had too much brandy. And
+sometimes an Indian girl who is deserted takes a cruel revenge, not on
+the selfish man, but on the innocent girl who has trusted him, and is
+not to blame. He is handsome and double of tongue and treacherous.
+See--he would have given me money to coax you to go out in the canoe
+with me some day to gather reeds. Then he could snatch you away. It was
+a good deal of money, too!"
+
+"O Wenonah!" She fell on the woman's neck and kissed the soft, brown
+cheek.
+
+"He knew you trusted me, that was the evil of him. And I said to Pani,
+'Do not let her go out on the river, lest the god of the Strait put
+forth his hand and pull her down to the depths and take her to his
+cave.' And Pani understood."
+
+"Yes, I trust you," said the girl proudly.
+
+"And I have no white blood in my veins."
+
+She went down to the great oak with Pani and they sat shaded from the
+afternoon sunshine with the lovely river stretching out before them. She
+did not care for the old story any more, but she leaned against Pani's
+bosom and patted her hand and said: "No matter what comes, Pani, we
+shall never part. And I will grow old with you like a good daughter and
+wait on you and care for you, and cook your meals when you are ill."
+
+Pani looked into the love-lit, shining eyes.
+
+"But I shall be so very, very old," she replied with a soft laugh.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+A HIDDEN FOE.
+
+
+Ah, what a day it was to Jeanne Angelot! They had gone early in the
+morning and taken some food with them in a pretty basket made of birch
+bark. How good it was to be alive, to be free! The sunshine had never
+been so golden, she thought, nor danced so among the branches nor shook
+out such dainty sprites. How they skipped over the turf, now hold of
+hands, now singly, now running away and disappearing, others coming in
+their places!
+
+"The very woods are alive," she declared in glee.
+
+Alive they were with the song of birds, the chirp of insects, the
+murmuring wind. Back of her was a rivulet fretting its way over pebbles
+down a hillside, making an irregular music. She kept time to it, then
+she changed to the bird song, and the rustle among the pines.
+
+"It is so lovely, Pani. I seem to be drinking in a strange draught that
+goes to my very finger tips. Oh, I wonder how anyone can bear to die!"
+
+"When they are old it is like falling asleep. And sometimes they are so
+tired it makes them glad."
+
+"I should only be tired of staying in the house. But I suppose one
+cannot help death. One can refuse to go into a little cell and shut out
+the sunlight and all the beauty that God has made. It is wicked I
+think. For one can pray out of doors and sing hymns. I am sure God will
+hear."
+
+They ate their lunch with a relish; Jeanne had found some berries and
+some ripe wild plums. There was a hollow tree full of honey, she could
+tell by the odorous, pungent smell. She would tell Wenonah and have some
+of the boys go at night and--oh, how hard to rob the poor bees, to
+murder and rob them! No, she would keep their secret.
+
+She laid her head down in Pani's lap and went fast asleep; and the
+Indian woman's eyes were touched with the same poppy juice. Once Pani
+started, she thought she heard a step. In an instant her eyes were bent
+inquiringly around. There was no one in sight.
+
+"It was the patter of squirrels," she thought.
+
+The movement roused Jeanne. She opened her eyes and smiled with
+infantine joy.
+
+"We have both been asleep," said the woman. "And now is it not time to
+go home?"
+
+"Oh, look at the long shadows. They are purple now, and soft dark green.
+The spirits of the wood have trooped home, tired of their dancing."
+
+She rose and gave herself a little shake.
+
+"Pani," she exclaimed, "I saw some beautiful flowers before noon, over
+on the other side of the stream. I think they were something strange. I
+can easily jump across. I will not be gone long, and you may stay here.
+Poor Pani! I tired you out."
+
+"No, Mam'selle, you were asleep first."
+
+"Was I? It was such a lovely sleep. Oh, you dear woods;" and she clasped
+her hands in adoration.
+
+Long, flute-like notes quivered through the branches--birds calling to
+their mates. Pani watched the child skipping, leaping, pulling down a
+branch and letting it fly up again. Then she jumped across the brook
+with a merry shout, and a tree hid her.
+
+Pani studied the turf, the ants and beetles running to and fro, the
+strange creatures with heavy loads. A woodpecker ran up a tree and
+pulled out a white grub. "Tinkle, tinkle, bu-r-r-r," said the little
+stream. Was that another shout?
+
+Presently Pani rose and went toward the stream. "Jeanne! Jeanne!" she
+called. The forest echoes made reply. She walked up, Jeanne had gone in
+that direction. Once it seemed as if the voice answered.
+
+Yes, over yonder was a great thicket of bloom. Surely the child would
+not need to go any farther. Presently there was a tangle of underbrush
+and wild grapevines. Pani retraced her steps and going farther down
+crossed and came up on the other side, calling as she went. The woods
+grew more dense. There was a chill in the air as if the sun never
+penetrated it. There was no real path and she wandered on in a thrill of
+terror, still calling but not losing sight of the stream.
+
+And now the sun dropped down. Terrified, Pani made the best of her way
+back. What had happened? She had seen no sign of a wild animal, and
+surely the child could not be lost in that brief while!
+
+She must give an alarm. She ran now until she was out of breath, then
+she had to pause until she could run again. She reached the farms. They
+were mostly all long strips of land with the houses in reach of the
+stockade for safety.
+
+"Andre Helmuth," she cried, "I have lost the child, Jeanne. Give an
+alarm." Then she sank down half senseless.
+
+Dame Helmuth ran out from the fish she was cooking for supper. "What is
+it?" she cried. "And who is this?" pointing to the prostrate figure.
+
+"Jeanne Angelot's Pani. And Jeanne, she says, is lost. It must be in the
+woods. But she knows them so well."
+
+"She was ever a wild thing," declared the dame. "But a night in the
+woods alone is not such a pleasant pastime, with panthers, and bears
+have been seen. And there may be savages prowling about. Yes, Andre,
+give the alarm and I will look after the poor creature. She has always
+been faithful to the child."
+
+By the time the dame had restored her, the news had spread. It reached
+Wenonah presently, who hastened to the Helmuths'. Pani sat bewildered,
+and the Indian woman, by skillful questioning, finally drew the story
+from her.
+
+"I think it is a band of roving Indians," she said. "I am glad now that
+Paspah is at home. He is a good guide. But we must send in town and get
+a company."
+
+"Yes, yes, that is the thing to do. A few soldiers with arms. One cannot
+tell how many of the Indians there may be. I will go at once," and Andre
+Helmuth set off on a clumsy trot.
+
+"And the savory fish that he is so fond of, getting spoiled. But what
+is that to the child's danger? Children, come and have your suppers."
+
+They wanted to linger about Pani, but the throng kept increasing.
+Wenonah warded off troublesome questions and detailed the story to
+newcomers. The dame brought her a cup of tea with a little brandy in it,
+and then waited what seemed an interminable while.
+
+The alarm spread through the garrison, and a searching party was ordered
+out equipped with lanterns and well armed. At its head was Jeanne's
+admirer, the young lieutenant.
+
+Tony Helmuth had finished his supper.
+
+"Let me go with them," he pleaded. "I know every inch of the way. I have
+been up and down the creek a hundred times."
+
+Pani rose. "I must go, too," she said, weakly, but she dropped back on
+the seat.
+
+"Thou wilt come home with me," began Wenonah, with gentle
+persuasiveness. "Thou hast not the strength."
+
+She yielded passively and clung piteously to the younger woman, her feet
+lagging.
+
+"She was so glad and joyous all day. I should not have let her go out of
+my sight," the foster mother moaned. "And it was only such a little
+while. Heaven and the blessed Mother send her back safely."
+
+"I think they will find her. Paspah is good on a trail. If they stop for
+the night and build a fire that will surely betray them."
+
+She led Pani carefully along, though quite a procession followed.
+
+"Let her be quiet now," said the younger squaw. "You can hear nothing
+more from her, and she needs rest. Go your ways."
+
+Pani was too much exhausted and too dazed to oppose anything. Once or
+twice she started feebly and said she must go home, but dropped back
+again on the pine needle couch covered with a blanket. Between waking
+and sleep strange dreams came to her that made her start and cry out,
+and Wenonah soothed her as one would a child.
+
+All the next day they waited. The town was stirred with the event, and
+the sympathy was universal. The pretty Jeanne Angelot, who had been left
+so mysteriously, had awakened romantic interest anew. A few years ago
+this would have been a common incident, but why one should want to carry
+off a girl of no special value,--though a ransom would be raised readily
+enough if such a thing could save her.
+
+On the second day the company returned home. No trace of any marauding
+party had been found. There had been no fires kindled, no signs of any
+struggle, and no Indian trails in the circuit they had made. The party
+might have had a canoe on Little river and paddled out to Lake St.
+Clair; if so, they were beyond reach.
+
+The tidings utterly crushed Pani. For a fortnight she lay in Wenonah's
+cabin, paying no attention to anything and would have refused sustenance
+if Wenonah had not fed her as a child. Then one day she seemed to wake
+as out of a trance.
+
+"They have not found her--my little one?" she said.
+
+Wenonah shook her head.
+
+"Some evil spirit of the woods has taken her."
+
+"Can you listen and think, Pani?" and she chafed the cold hand she held.
+"I have had many strange thoughts and Touchas, you know, has seen
+visions. The white man has changed everything and driven away the
+children of the air who used to run to and fro in the times of our
+fathers. In her youth she called them, but the Church has it they are
+demons, and to look at the future is a wicked thing. It is said in some
+places they have put people to death for doing it."
+
+Pani's dark eyes gave a glance of mute inquiry.
+
+"But I asked Touchas. At first she said the great Manitou had taken the
+power from her. But the night the moon described the full circle and one
+could discern strange shapes in it, she came to me, and we went and sat
+under the oak tree where the child first came to thee. There was great
+disturbance in Touchas' mind, and her eyes seemed to traverse space
+beyond the stars. Presently, like one in a dream, she said:--
+
+"'The child is alive. She was taken by Indians to the _petite_ lake, her
+head covered, and in strong arms. Then they journeyed by water,
+stopping, and going on until they met a big ship sailing up North. She
+is in great danger, but the stars watch over her; a prisoner where the
+window is barred and the door locked. There is a man between two women,
+an Indian maiden, whose heart hungers for him. She comes down to meet
+him and follows a trail and finds something that rouses her to fierce
+anger. She creeps and creeps, and finds the key and unlocks the door.
+The white maiden is afraid at first and cowers, for she reads passion in
+the other's eyes. O great Manitou, save her!' Then Touchas screamed and
+woke, shivering all over, and could see no further into the strange
+future. 'Wait until the next moon,' she keeps saying. But the child will
+be saved, she declares."
+
+"Oh, my darling, my little one!" moaned the woman, rocking herself to
+and fro. "The saints protect thee. Oh, I should have watched thee
+better! But she felt so safe. She had been afraid, but the fear had
+departed. Oh, my little one! I shall die if I do not see thee again."
+
+"I feel that the great God will care for her. She has done no evil; and
+the priests declare that he will protect the good. And I thought and
+thought, until a knowledge seemed to come out of the clear sky. So I did
+not wait for the next moon. I said, 'I have little need for Paspah,
+since I earn bread for the little ones. Why should he sit in the wigwam
+all winter, now and then killing a deer or helping on the dock for a
+drink of brandy?' So I sent him North again to join the hunters and to
+find Jeanne. For I know that handsome, evil-eyed Louis Marsac is at the
+bottom of it."
+
+"Oh, Wenonah!" Pani fell on her shoulder and cried, she was so weak and
+overcome.
+
+"We will not speak of this. Paspah has a grudge against Marsac; he
+struck him a blow last summer. My father would have killed him for the
+blow, but the red men who hang around the towns have no spirit. They
+creep about like panthers, and only show their teeth to an enemy. The
+forest is the place for them, but this life is easier for a woman."
+
+Wenonah sighed. Civilization had charms for her, yet she saw that it was
+weakening her race. They were driven farther and farther back and to the
+northward. Women might accept labor, they were accustomed to it in the
+savage state but a brave could not so demean himself.
+
+Pani's mind was not very active yet. For some moments she studied
+Wenonah in silence.
+
+"She was afraid of him. She would not go out to the forest nor on the
+river while he was here. But he went away--"
+
+"He could have planned it all. He would find enough to do his bidding.
+But if she has been taken up North, Paspah will find her."
+
+That gave some present comfort to Pani. But she began to be restless and
+wanted to return to her own cottage.
+
+"You must not live alone," said Wenonah.
+
+"But I want to be there. If my darling comes it is there she will search
+for me."
+
+When Wenonah found she could no longer keep her by persuasion or
+entreaty, she went home with her one day. The tailor's widow had taken
+some little charge of the place. It was clean and tidy.
+
+Pani drew a long, delighted breath, like a child.
+
+"Yes, this is home," she exclaimed. "Wenonah, the good Mother of God
+will reward you for your kindness. There is something"--touching her
+forehead in piteous appeal--"that keeps me from thinking as I ought. But
+you are sure my little one will come back, like a bird to its nest?"
+
+"She will come back," replied Wenonah, hardly knowing whether she
+believed it herself or not.
+
+"Then I shall stay here."
+
+She was deaf to all entreaties. She went about talking to herself, with
+a sentence here and there addressed to Jeanne.
+
+"Yes, leave her," said Margot. "She was good to me in my sorrow, and
+_petite_ Jeanne was an angel. The children loved her so. She would not
+go away of her own accord. And I will watch and see that no harm happens
+to Pani, and that she has food. The boys will bring her fagots for fire.
+I will send you word every day, so you will know how it fares with her."
+
+Pani grew more cheerful day by day and gained not only physical
+strength, but made some mental improvement. In the short twilight she
+would sit in the doorway listening to every step and tone, sometimes
+rising as if she would go to meet Jeanne, then dropping back with a
+sigh.
+
+The soldiers were very kind to her and often stopped to give her good
+day. Neighbors, too, paused, some in sympathy, some in curiosity.
+
+There were many explanations of the sudden disappearance. That Jeanne
+Angelot had been carried off by Indians seemed most likely. Such things
+were still done.
+
+But many of the superstitious shook their heads. She had come queerly as
+if she had dropped from the clouds, she had gone in the same manner.
+Perhaps she was not a human child. All wild things had come at her
+call,--she had talked to them in the woods. Once a doe had run to her
+from some hunters and she had so covered it with her girlish arms and
+figure that they had not dared to shoot. If there were bears or panthers
+or wolves in the woods, they never molested her.
+
+They recalled old legends, Indian and French, some gruesome enough, but
+they did not seem meet for pretty, laughing Jeanne, who was all
+kindliness and sweetness and truth. If she was part spirit, surely it
+was a good spirit and not an evil one.
+
+Then Pani thought she would go to Father Gilbert, though she had never
+felt at home with him as she did with good Père Rameau. There might be
+prayers that would hasten her return. Or, if relics helped, if she could
+once hold them in her hand and wish--
+
+The old missionaries who had gone a century or two before to plant the
+cross along with the lilies of France had the souls of the heathen
+savages at heart. Since then times had changed and the Indians were not
+looked upon as such promising subjects. Father Gilbert worked for the
+good and the glory of the Church. One English convert was worth a dozen
+Indians. So the church had been improved and made more beautiful. There
+were singers who caught the ear of the casual listener, and he or she
+came again. The school, too, was improved, the sisters' house enlarged,
+and a retreat built where women could spend days of sorrow and go away
+refreshed. Sometimes they preferred to stay altogether.
+
+Father Gilbert listened rather impatiently to the prolix story. He might
+have heard it before, he did not remember. There were several Indian
+waifs in school.
+
+"And this child was baptized, you say? Why did you not bring her to
+church?" he asked sharply.
+
+"Good Père, I did at first. But M. Bellestre would not have her forced.
+And then she only came sometimes. She liked the new school because they
+taught about countries and many things. She was always honest and truth
+speaking and hated cruel deeds--"
+
+"But she belonged to the Church, you see. Woman, you have done her a
+great wrong and this is sent upon you for punishment. She should have
+been trained to love her Church. Yes, you must come every day and pray
+that she may be returned to the true fold, and that the good God will
+forgive your sin. You have been very wicked and careless and I do not
+wonder God has sent this upon you. When she comes back she must be given
+to the Church."
+
+Pani turned away without asking about the relics. Her savage heart rose
+up in revolt. The child was hers, the Church had not all the right. And
+Jeanne had come to believe like the chapel father, who had been very
+friendly toward her. Perhaps it was all wrong and wicked, but Jeanne was
+an angel. Ah, if she could hold her in her old arms once more!
+
+Father Gilbert went to see M. Loisel. What was it about the money the
+Indian woman and the child had? Could not the Church take better care of
+it? And if the girl was dead, what then?
+
+M. Loisel explained the wording of the bequest. If both died it went
+back to the Bellestre estate. Only in case of Jeanne's marriage did it
+take the form of a dowry. In June and December it came to him, and he
+sent back an account of the two beneficiaries.
+
+Really then it was not worth looking after, Father Gilbert decided, when
+there was so much other work on hand.
+
+Madame De Ber and her coterie, for already there were little cliques in
+Detroit, shrugged their shoulders and raised their eyebrows when Jeanne
+Angelot was mentioned.
+
+She was such a coquette! And though she flouted Louis Marsac to his
+face, when he had really taken her at her word and gone, she might have
+repented and run after him. It was hardly likely a band of roving
+Indians would burthen themselves with a girl. Then she was fleet of foot
+and had a quick brain, she could have eluded them and returned by this
+time.
+
+Rose De Ber had succeeded in captivating her fine lover and sent Martin
+about with a bit of haughtiness that would have become a queen. It was
+a fine wedding and Jeanne was lost sight of in the newer excitement.
+
+Pani rambled to and fro, a grave, silent woman. When she grew strong
+enough she went to the forest and haunted the little creek with her
+plaints. The weather grew colder. Furs and rugs were brought out, and
+warm hangings for winter. Martin Lavosse came in and arranged some
+comforts for Pani, looked to see that the shutters would swing easily
+and brought fresh cedar and pine boughs for pallets. Crops were being
+gathered in, and there were merrymakings and church festivals, but the
+poor woman sat alone in her room that fronted the street, now and then
+casting her eyes up and down in mute questioning. The light of her life
+had gone. If Jeanne came not back all would be gone, even faith in the
+good God. For why should he, if he was so great and could manage the
+whole world, let this thing happen? Why should he deliver Jeanne into
+the hands of the man she hated, or perhaps let her be torn to pieces by
+some wild beast of the forest, when, by raising a finger, he could have
+helped it? Could he be angry because she had not sent the child to be
+shut up in the Recollet house and made a nun of?
+
+Slavery and servitude had not extinguished the love of liberty that had
+been born in Pani's soul. She had succumbed to force, then to a certain
+fondness for a kind mistress. But it seemed as if she alone had
+understood the child's wild flights, her hatred of bondage. She had done
+no harm to any living creature; she had been full of gratitude to the
+great Manitou for every flower, every bird, for the golden sun that set
+her pulses in a glow, for the moon and stars, and the winds that sang to
+her. Oh, surely God could not be angry with her!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+A PRISONER.
+
+
+Jeanne Angelot climbed a slight ascent where great jagged stones had
+probably been swept down in some fierce storm and found lodgment. Tufts
+of pink flowers, the like of which she had not seen before, hung over
+one ledge. They were not wild roses, yet had a spicy fragrance. Here the
+little stream formed a sort of basin, and the overflow made the cascade
+down the winding way strewn with pebbles and stones worn smooth by the
+force of the early spring floods. How wonderfully beautiful it was! To
+the north, after a space of wild land, there was a prairie stretching
+out as far as one could see, golden green in the sunlight; to the east
+the lake, that seemed to gather all sorts of changeful, magical tints on
+its bosom.
+
+She had never heard of the vale of Enna nor her prototype who stooped to
+pluck
+
+          "The fateful flower beside the rill,
+           The daffodil! The daffodil!"
+
+as she sprang down to gather the blossoms. The stir in the woods did not
+alarm her. Her eyes were still over to the eastward drinking in that
+fine draught of celestial wine, the true nectar of life. A bird piped
+overhead. She laughed and answered him. Then a sudden darkness fell upon
+her, close, smothering. Her cry was lost in it. She was picked up,
+slung over some one's shoulder and borne onward by a swift trot. Her
+arms were fast, she could only struggle feebly.
+
+When at length she was placed on her feet and the blanket partly
+unrolled, she gave a cry.
+
+"Hush, hush!" said a rough voice in Chippewa. "If you make a noise we
+shall kill you and throw you into the lake. Be silent and nothing shall
+harm you."
+
+"Oh, let me go!" she pleaded. "Why do you want me?"
+
+The blanket was drawn over her head again. Another stalwart Indian
+seized her and ran on with such strides that it nearly jolted the breath
+out of her body, and the close smell of the blanket made her faint. When
+the second Indian released her she fell to the ground in a heap.
+
+"White Rose lost her breath, eh?"
+
+"You have covered her too close. We are to deliver her alive. The white
+brave will have us murdered if she dies."
+
+One of them brought some water from a stream near by, and it revived
+her.
+
+"Give me a drink!" she cried, piteously. Then she glanced at her
+abductors. Four fierce looking Indians, two unusually tall and powerful.
+To resist would be useless.
+
+"Whither are you going to take me?"
+
+A grunt was the only reply, and they prepared to envelop her again.
+
+"Oh, let me walk a little," she besought. "I am stiff and tired."
+
+"You will not give any alarm?"
+
+Who could hear in this wild, solitary place?
+
+"I will be quiet. Nay, do not put the blanket about me, it is so warm,"
+she entreated.
+
+One of the Indians threw it over his shoulder. Two others took an arm
+with a tight grasp and commenced a quick trot. They lifted her almost
+off her feet, and she found this more wearying than being carried.
+
+"Do not go so fast," she pleaded.
+
+The Indian caught her up and ran again. Her slim figure was as nothing
+to him. But it was better not to have her head covered.
+
+There seemed a narrow path through these woods, a trail the Indians
+knew. Now and then they emerged from the woods to a more open space, but
+the sunlight was mostly shut out. Once more they changed and now they
+reached a stream and put down their burthen.
+
+"We go now in a canoe," began the chief spokesman. "If the White Rose
+will keep quiet and orderly no harm will come to her. Otherwise her
+hands and feet must be tied."
+
+Jeanne drew a long breath and looked from one to the other. Their faces
+were stolid. Questioning would be useless.
+
+"I will be quiet," she made answer.
+
+They spread the blanket about and seated her in the middle. One man took
+his place behind her, one in front, and each had two ends of the
+blanket to frustrate any desperate move. Then another stood up to the
+paddle and steered the canoe swiftly along the stream, which was an arm
+of a greater river emptying into the lake.
+
+What could they want of her? Jeanne mused. Perhaps a ransom, she had
+heard such tales, though it was oftener after a battle that a prisoner
+was released by a ransom. She did not know in what direction they were
+taking her, everything was strange though she had been on many of the
+small streams about Detroit. Now the way was narrow, overhung with
+gloomy trees, here and there a white beech shining out in a ghostly
+fashion. The sun dropped down and darkness gathered, broken by the
+shrill cry of a wild cat or the prolonged howl of a wolf. Here they
+started a nest of waterfowl that made a great clatter, but they glided
+swiftly by. It grew darker and darker but they went silently with only a
+low grunt from one of the Indians now and then.
+
+Presently they reached the main stream. This was much larger, with the
+shores farther off and clearer, though weird enough in the darkness.
+Stars were coming out. Jeanne watched them in the deep magnificent blue,
+golden, white, greenish and with crimson tints. Was the world beyond the
+stars as beautiful as this? But she knew no one there. She wondered a
+little about her mother--was she in that bright sphere? There was
+another Mother--
+
+"O Mother of God," she cried in her soul, "have pity upon me! I put
+myself in thy care. Guard me from evil! Restore me to my home!"
+
+For it seemed, amid these rough savages, she sorely needed a mother's
+tender care. And she thought now there had been no loving woman in her
+life save Pani. Madame Bellestre had petted her, but she had lost her
+out of her life so soon. There had been the schoolmaster, that she could
+still think of with affection for all his queer fatherly interest and
+kindness; there was M. Loisel; and oh, Monsieur St. Armand, who was
+coming back in the early summer, and had some plans to lay before her.
+Even M. De Ber had been kindly and friendly, but Madame had never
+approved her. Poor Madame Campeau had come to love her, but often in her
+wandering moments she called her Berthê.
+
+The quiet, the lapping of the waves, and perhaps a little fatigue
+overcame her at length. She dropped back against the Indian's knee, and
+her soft breath rose and fell peacefully. He drew the blanket up over
+her.
+
+"Ugh! ugh!" he ejaculated, but she heard it not. "The tide is good, we
+shall make the Point before dawn."
+
+The others nodded. They lighted their pipes, and presently the Indian at
+the paddle changed with one of his comrades and they stole on and on,
+both wind and tide in their favor. Several times their charge stirred
+but did not wake. Youth and health had overcome even anxiety.
+
+There was dawn in the eastern sky. Jeanne roused.
+
+"Oh, where am I?" she cried in piercing accents; and endeavored to
+spring up.
+
+"Thou art safe enough and naught has harmed thee," was the reply. "Keep
+quiet, that is all."
+
+"Oh, where do you mean to take me? I am stiff and cold. Oh, let me
+change a little!"
+
+She straightened herself and pulled the blanket over her. The same
+stolid faces that had refused any satisfaction last night met her gaze
+again in blankness.
+
+There was a broad, open space of water, no longer the river. She glanced
+about. A sudden arrow of gold gleamed swiftly across it--then another,
+and it was a sea of flame with dancing crimson lights.
+
+"It is the lake," she said. "Lake Huron." She had been up the
+picturesque shores of the St. Clair river.
+
+The Indian nodded.
+
+"You are going north?" A great terror overwhelmed her like a sudden
+revelation.
+
+The answer was a solemn nod.
+
+"Some one has hired you to do this."
+
+Not a muscle in any stolid face moved.
+
+"If I guess rightly will you tell me?"
+
+There was a refusal in the shake of the head.
+
+Jeanne Angelot at that moment could have leaped from the boat. Yet she
+knew it would be of no avail. A chill went through every pulse and
+turned it to the ice of apprehension.
+
+The canoe made a turn and ran up an inlet. A great clump of trees hid a
+wigwam until they were in sight of it There was a smoke issuing from
+the rude chimney, and a savory smell permeated the air. Two squaws had
+been squatted before the blaze of the stone-built fireplace. They both
+rose and came down the narrow strip of beach. They were short, the older
+one had a squat, ungainly figure of great breadth for the height, and a
+most forbidding face. The other was much younger.
+
+Jeanne did not understand the language, but from a few words she guessed
+it was Huron. It seemed at first as if there was fierce upbraiding from
+some cause, but it settled satisfactorily it would seem. She was helped
+out of the canoe. Oh, how good it was to stand free on the ground again!
+
+The Indian who appeared to be the leader of the party took her arm and
+led her up to the inclosure, the back of which seemed rocks, one piled
+upon another. The wigwam was set against them. The rude shelter outside
+was the kitchen department, evidently. A huge kettle had been lifted
+from the coals and was still steaming. A bark platter was piled high
+with deliciously browned fish, and in spite of her terror and distrust
+she felt that she was hungry.
+
+"If I might have some water," she asked hesitatingly,--"a drink and some
+to bathe my face and hands?"
+
+The drink was offered her in a gourd cup. Then the younger woman led her
+within the wigwam. There was a rough earthen bowl filled with water, a
+bit of looking-glass framed in birch bark, a bed, and some rounds of
+logs for seats. Around hung articles of clothing, both native made and
+bought from the traders.
+
+"I understand Chippewa," announced Jeanne looking inquiringly at the
+woman.
+
+She put her finger on her lip. Then she said, almost breathlessly, "We
+are not to talk to the French demoiselle."
+
+"But tell me, am I to stay here?"
+
+She gave a negative shake of the head.
+
+"Am I to go--farther north?"
+
+An affirmative nod this time.
+
+"Wanee! Wanee!" was called sharply from without.
+
+Jeanne sank on her knees.
+
+"O Holy Mother of Christ, have pity on me and save me!" she cried. For
+the vague suspicion that had haunted her since waking, crystallized into
+a certainty. Part of a rosary came to her:--
+
+          "Heart of Jesus, refuge of sinners;
+           Heart of Jesus, fortitude of the just;
+           Heart of Jesus, comfort the afflicted."
+
+Then she rose and made a brief toilet. She shook out her long hair,
+passing her damp hands over it, and it fell in curls again. She
+straightened her dress, but she still felt chill in the cool morning
+air. There was a cape of gull's feathers, hanging by the flap of the
+wigwam, and she reached it down making a sign to the woman asking
+permission.
+
+She nodded assentingly.
+
+It felt good and warm. Jeanne's breakfast was spread on a board resting
+on two stones. The squaw had made coffee out of some parched and ground
+grains, and it had a comforting flavor. The plate of fish was set before
+her and cakes of honey bread, and her coffee poured in a gourd bowl. The
+birds were singing overhead, and she could hear the lap of the tide in
+the lake, a soft tone of monotony. The beauty of it all penetrated her
+very soul. Even the group around the great kettle, dipping in their
+wooden spoons and gravely chatting, the younger woman smiling and one
+might almost imagine teasing them, had a picturesque aspect, and
+softened the thought of what might happen to-morrow.
+
+They lolled on the turf and smoked pipes afterward. Jeanne paced up and
+down within sight of their glances that she knew were fixed upon her in
+spite of the half-closed lids. It was so good to be free in the fragrant
+air, to stretch her cramped limbs and feel the soft short grass under
+her feet. Dozens of wild plans flashed through her brain. But she knew
+escape was impossible, and she wondered what was to be the next move.
+Were they awaiting the trader, Louis Marsac?
+
+Plainly they were not. When they were rested and had eaten again and had
+drunk a thick liquid made of roots and barks and honey, they rose and
+went toward the canoe, as if discussing some matter. They parleyed with
+the elder woman, who brought out two blankets and a pine needle cushion,
+which they threw in the boat, then a bottle of water from the spring, a
+gourd cup and some provisions.
+
+"Come," the leader said, not unkindly. "Thou hast had a rest. We must be
+on our journey."
+
+Pleading would be in vain, she recognized that. The women could not
+befriend her even if they would. So she allowed herself to be helped
+into the canoe, and the men pushed off amid the rather vociferous jargon
+of the women. She was made much more comfortable than before, though so
+seated that either brave could reach out his long arm and snatch her
+from any untoward resolve.
+
+She looked down into the shining waters. Did she really care to try
+them? The hope of youth is unbounded and its trust in the future
+sublime. She did not want to die. Life was a glad, sweet thing to her,
+even if full of vague dreams, and she hoped somehow to be delivered from
+this danger, to find a friend raised up for her. Stories of miracles and
+wonderful rescues floated through her mind. Surely God would not let her
+fall a prey to this man she both feared and hated. She could feel his
+one hot, vicious kiss upon her lips even yet.
+
+The woods calmed and soothed her with their grays and greens, and the
+infrequent birches, tall and slim, with circles of white still about
+them. Great tree boles stood up like hosts of silent Indian warriors,
+ready to pounce down on one. They hugged the shore closely, sometimes it
+was translucent green, and one could almost catch the darting fishes
+with one's hand. Then the dense shade rendered it black, and it seemed
+bottomless.
+
+So gliding along, keeping well out of the reach of other craft, the
+hours growing more tiresome to Jeanne, they passed the Point Aux Barques
+and steered across Saginaw bay. Once they had stopped for a little rest
+and a tramp along the shore. Then another evening dropped down upon
+them, another night, and Jeanne slept from a sort of exhaustion.
+
+The next forenoon they landed at one of the islands, where a trading
+vessel of considerable size and fair equipment lay at anchor. A man on
+deck with a glass had been sighting them. She had not noted him
+particularly, in fact she was weary and disheartened with her journey
+and her fears. But they made a sudden turn and came up to the vessel,
+poled around to the shore side, when she was suddenly lifted up by
+strong arms and caught by other arms with a motion so rapid she could
+not have struggled if she had wished. And now she was set down almost
+roughly.
+
+"Welcome, my fair demoiselle," said a voice whose triumph was in no
+degree disguised. "How shall I ever thank you for this journey you have
+taken to meet me? I could have made it pleasanter for you if you would
+have consented a little earlier. But a willful girl takes her own way,
+and her way is sweet to the man who loves her, no matter how briery the
+path may be."
+
+Jeanne Angelot was stunned. Then her worst fears were realized. She was
+in the power of Louis Marsac. Oh, why had she not thrown herself into
+the river; why had she not seized the knife with which they had been
+cutting venison steak yester morn and ended it all? She tried to
+speak--her lips were dry, and her tongue numb as well as dumb.
+
+He took her arm. As if deprived of resistance she suffered herself to be
+led forward and then down a few steps. He opened a door.
+
+"See," he said, "I have arranged a pretty bower for you, and a servant
+to wait upon you. And now, Mam'selle Angelot, further refusal is
+useless. To-morrow or next day at the latest the priest will make us man
+and wife."
+
+"I will never be your wife alive," she said. Every pulse within her
+shrank from the desecration.
+
+"Oh, yes, you will," and he smiled with a blandness that was maddening.
+"When we are once married I shall be very sweet and gentle. I shall wait
+with such patience that you will learn to pity me at first. My devotion
+will be so great that even a heart of marble could not resist.
+Mam'selle, the sun and the rain will wear away the stoutest rocks in
+time, and in the split crevices there grows some tiny flower. That is
+the way it is with the most resolute woman's heart. And you are not much
+more than a child. Then--you have no lover."
+
+Jeanne stood spellbound. Was it possible that she should ever come to
+love this man? Yet in her childhood she had been very fond of him. She
+was a great puzzle to herself at this moment. All the old charms and
+fascinations that had been part of the lore of her childhood, weird
+stories that Touchas had told, but which were forbidden by the Church,
+rushed over her. She was full of terror at herself as well as of Louis
+Marsac.
+
+He read the changes in her countenance, but he did not understand her
+shrinking from an abhorred suitor, nor the many fine and delicate lines
+of restraint that had come to hedge her about, to impress a peculiar
+responsibility of her own soul that would be degraded by the bondage.
+She had seen some of it in other girls mated to coarse natures.
+
+"My beautiful bird shall have everything. We will go up to the head of
+the great lake where my father has a lodge that is second only to that
+of the White Chief. I am his only son. He wishes for my marriage.
+Jeanne, he will give thee such a welcome as no woman ever had. The
+costliest furs shall be thine, jewels from abroad, servants to come at
+the bidding of thy finger--"
+
+"I do not want them!" she interrupted, vehemently. "I have told you I do
+not want to be the wife of any man. Give me the freedom you have stolen
+from me. Send me back to Detroit. Oh, there must be women ready to marry
+you. Let me go."
+
+Her voice had a piercing sweetness. Even anger could not have made it
+harsh. She dropped on her knees; she raised her beautiful eyes in
+passionate entreaty.
+
+There was much of the savage Indian in him. He would enjoy her
+subjugation. It would begin gently, then he would tighten the cord until
+she had paid back to the uttermost, even to the blow she had given him.
+But he was too astute to begin here.
+
+"Thou shalt go back in state as my wife. Ere long my father will be as
+big a magnate as the White Chief. Detroit will be proud to honor us
+both, when we shall be chiefs of the great copper country. Rise, Star of
+the Morning. Then, whatever thou shalt ask as my wife shall be granted
+to thee."
+
+She rose only to throw herself on the pile of hemlock cushions, face
+downward to shut him out of her sight. Was he some strange, evil spirit
+in a man's shape?
+
+Noko, an old woman, waited on her. If she knew Chippewa or French she
+would not use them. She cooked savory messes. At night she slept on the
+mat of skins at the door; during the day she was outside mostly. The
+door was bolted and locked beside, but both bolt and lock were outside.
+The window with its small panes of greenish glass was securely fastened.
+
+Jeanne could tie a band about her neck and choke herself to death. It
+would be horrible to strangle, and she shuddered. She had no weapon of
+any kind. The woman watched her while she ate and took away all the
+dishes when she was through.
+
+The cabin was not large, but arranged with much taste. The sides were
+covered with bark and long strips of Indian embroidery, and curious
+plates or tiles of polished stone secured by the corners. On one side a
+roomy couch raised above the floor, fragrant with newly gathered balsam
+of fir and sweet grass, and covered with blankets of fine weaves, and
+skins cured to marvelous softness. Two chairs that were also hung with
+embroidery done on silk, and a great square wooden seat covered with
+mottled fawn skin. Bunches of dried, sweet herbs were suspended in the
+corners, with curious imitation flowers made of dainty feathers, bits of
+bark, and various colored leaves.
+
+Sometimes she raged like a wild creature in her cage. She would not
+speak when Louis entered the room. She had a horrible fear of his
+blandishments. There were days and nights,--how many she did not know
+for there was the torture of hundreds comprised in them. Then she wept
+and prayed. There was the great Manitou Touchas and many of the Indian
+women believed in; there was the good God the schoolmaster had talked
+about, and the minister at the chapel, who had sent his Son to save all
+who called upon him, and why not be saved in this world as well as the
+next? In heaven all would be safe--yes, it was here that people needed
+to be saved from a thousand dangers. And there was the good God of the
+Church and the Holy Mother and all the blessed saints. Oh, would they
+not listen to one poor little girl? She did not want to die. All her
+visions of life and love were bounded by dear Detroit, La Belle Detroit.
+
+          "O Holy Father, hear me!
+           O Blessed Mother of God, hear me!
+           O Precious Son of Mary, hear me!"
+
+she cried on her knees, until a strange peace came to her soul. She
+believed there would be some miracle for her. There had been for
+others.
+
+At noon, one day, they came to a landing. There was some noise and
+confusion, much tramping and swearing. She heard Marsac at the door
+talking to Noko in French and the woman answering him. Her heart beat so
+that it well-nigh strangled her. But he did not come in. Presently the
+rumbling and unloading were over, and there was no sound but the
+oscillation of the vessel as it floundered in the tide with short beats,
+until the turning, and then the motion grew more endurable. If she could
+only see! But from her window there was nothing save an expanse of
+water, dotted with canoes and some distant islands. The cabin was always
+in semi-twilight.
+
+There was a fumbling at the door presently. The bolt was drawn, the lock
+snapped; and the door was opened cautiously. It was neither Noko nor
+Marsac, but some one in a soft, gray blanket, with white borders. The
+corner was thrown over her head. She turned stealthily, took out the
+key, and locked the door again on the inside. Then she faced Jeanne who
+had half risen, and her blanket fell to the floor.
+
+A handsome Indian girl, arrayed in a beautiful costume that bespoke rank
+in the wearer. Across her brow was a fillet made of polished stones that
+sparkled like jewels. Her long, black hair nearly reached her knees. Her
+skin was fine and clear, of a light bronze tint, through which the pink
+in her cheeks glowed. Her eyes were larger and softer than most of her
+race, of a liquid blackness, her nose was straight and slim, with fine
+nostrils, and her mouth like an opening rose, the under petal falling
+apart.
+
+She came close to the white girl who shrank back terrified at the eyes
+fixed so resolutely on her.
+
+"You are the French girl who wants to marry Louis Marsac," she hissed,
+between her white teeth.
+
+"I am a French girl, Jeanne Angelot, and he stole me from Detroit. I do
+not want to marry him. Oh, no! a thousand times no! I have told him that
+I shall kill myself if he forces me to marry him!"
+
+The Indian girl looked amazed. Her hands dropped at her side. Her eyes
+flickered in wavering lights, and her breath came in gasps.
+
+"You do not want to marry him?"
+
+Her voice was hoarse, guttural. "Ah, you lie! You make believe! It
+cannot be! Why, then, did you come up here? And why has he gone to
+L'Arbre Croche for the priest he expected?"
+
+"I told you. He hired some Indians to take me from Detroit, after his
+boat had left. I would not go. I did not want to marry him and said
+'_no_' dozens of times. They took me out in a canoe. I think they were
+Hurons; I did not understand their language. Somewhere--I do not know
+where we are now, and I cannot remember the days that passed, but they
+met the trader's boat and put me on it, and then I knew it was Louis
+Marsac who had stolen me. Has he gone for a priest? Is that what you
+said? Oh, save me! Help me to escape. I might throw myself into the bay,
+but I can swim. I should not like to die when life is so sweet and
+beautiful, and I am afraid I should try to save myself or some one might
+rescue me. Oh, believe it is no lie! I do not want to marry him."
+
+"You have another lover?" The eyes seemed to pierce her through, as if
+sure of an affirmative.
+
+"I have no lover, not even in Detroit. I do not like love. It is foolish
+and full of hot kisses, and I do not want to marry. Oh, save me if you
+have any pity! Help me to escape!"
+
+She slipped down at the Indian girl's feet and caught at the garment of
+feathers so smooth and soft it seemed like satin.
+
+"See here." The visitor put her hand in her bosom and drew forth a small
+dagger with a pearl hilt in which was set jewels. Jeanne shuddered, but
+remained on her knees, glancing up piteously.
+
+"See here. I came to kill you. I said no French girl, be she beautiful
+as moonlight on the lake, shall marry Louis Marsac. He belongs to me. No
+woman shall be folded in his arms or lie on his breast or rejoice in the
+kisses of his mouth and live! I cannot understand. When one has tasted
+the sweetness--and he is so handsome, not so different from his mother's
+race but that I am a fit mate for him. My father was a chief, and there
+was a quarrel between him and a relative who claimed the right, and he
+was killed. Ah, you can never know how good and tender Louis was to me,
+so different from most of the clumsy Canadian traders; next, I think, to
+the great White Chief of the island; yes, handsomer, though not as
+large. All the winter and spring he loved me. And this cabin was mine. I
+came here many times. He loves me unless you have stolen his heart with
+some evil charm. Stand up; see. I am as tall as you. My skin is fine and
+clear, if not as pale as the white faces; and yours--pouf! you have no
+rose in your cheeks. Is not my mouth made for kisses? I like those that
+burn as fire running through your veins. And my hand--" she caught
+Jeanne's hand and compared them. "It is as slim and soft, and the pink
+is under the nails. And my hair is like a veil, reaching to my knees.
+Yes, I am a fitter mate than you, who are naught but a child, with no
+shape that fills a man with admiration. Is it that you have worked some
+evil charm?"
+
+Jeanne's eyes were distended with horror. Now that death and escape were
+near she shrank with the fear of all young things who have known naught
+of life but its joy. She could not even beg, her tongue seemed
+paralyzed.
+
+They would have made a statue worthy of a sculptor as they stood there,
+the Indian girl in her splendid attire and the utmost beauty of her
+race, with the dagger in one hand; and the girl, pale now as a snow
+wreath, at her feet.
+
+"Would you go away, escape?" Some curious thoughts had flashed into
+Owaissa's brain.
+
+"Oh, help me, help me! I will beg my way back to Detroit. I will pray
+that all his love may be given to you; morning and night I will pray on
+my knees. Oh, believe, believe!"
+
+The Indian girl could not doubt her sincerity. But with the injustice of
+a passionate, jealous love she did not so much blame her recreant
+lover. Some charm, some art, must have been used, perhaps by a third
+person, and the girl be guiltless. And if she could send her away and
+remain in her stead--
+
+She gave a soft, musical ripple of laughter. So pretty Minnehaha must
+have laughed when Longfellow caught the sound in his charmed brain. She
+put up her dagger. She raised Jeanne, wondering, but no longer afraid.
+This was the miracle she had prayed for and it had come to pass.
+
+"Listen. You shall go. The night comes on and it is a long sail; but you
+will not be afraid. The White Chief will take you in, but when you tell
+your story say it was Indians who stole you. For if you bring any harm
+to Louis Marsac I will follow you and kill you even if it were leagues
+beyond sunset, in the wild land that no one has penetrated. Remember.
+Promise by the great Manitou. Kiss my hand;" and she held it out.
+
+Jeanne obeyed. Could escape be so near? Her heart beats almost strangled
+her.
+
+"Wanita is my faithful slave. He will do my bidding and you need not be
+afraid. My canoe lies down below there," and she indicated the southern
+end with a motion of her head. "You will take this ring to him and he
+will know that the message comes from me. Oh, you will not hesitate?"
+
+Jeanne raised her head proudly. "I will obey you to the letter. But--how
+will I find him?"
+
+"You will go off the boat and walk down below the dock. There is a clump
+of scrub pines blown awry; then a little cove; the boat lies there; you
+will say 'Wanita,' twice; he will come and you will give him the ring;
+then he will believe you."
+
+"But how shall I get off the boat? And how did you get the key? And
+Noko--"
+
+"I had a key. It was mine all the early spring. I used to come and we
+sailed around, but I would not be a wife until a French priest could
+marry us, and he said 'wait, wait,' and an Indian girl is proud to obey
+the man she loves. And when it was time for him to return I came down
+from the Strait and heard--this--that his heart had been stolen from me
+and that when Father Hugon did not come he was very angry and has gone
+up to the island. They have much illness there it seems."
+
+"Then I give you back all I ever had, oh, so gladly."
+
+"Your father, perhaps, wanted him and saw some woman who dealt in
+charms?"
+
+"I have no father or mother. A poor old Indian woman cares for me. She
+was my nurse, everything. Oh, her heart will be broken! And this White
+Chief will surely let me go to Detroit?"
+
+"He is good and gracious to all, and just. That is why you must not
+mention Marsac's name, for he might not understand about the wicked
+go-between. There are _shil loups_, spirits of wretched people who
+wander about making mischief. But I must believe thee. Thine eyes are
+truthful."
+
+She brushed Jeanne's hair from her forehead and looked keenly,
+questioningly into them. They met the glance with the shine of
+innocence and truth that never wavered in their heavenly blue.
+
+"The White Chief has boats that go up and down continually. You will get
+safely to Detroit."
+
+"And you?" inquired Jeanne.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+
+RESCUED.
+
+
+"And you?" repeated Jeanne Angelot when Owaissa seemed lost in thought.
+
+"I shall remain here. When Louis Marsac comes I will break the fatal
+spell that bound him, and the priest will marry us. I shall make him
+very happy, for we are kindred blood; happier than any cool-blooded,
+pale-face girl could dream. And now you must set out. The sun is going
+down. You will not be faint of heart?"
+
+"I shall be so glad! And I shall be praying to the good Christ and his
+Mother to make you happy and give you all of Louis Marsac's heart. No, I
+shall not be afraid. And you are quite sure the White Chief will
+befriend me?"
+
+"Oh, yes. And his wife is of Indian blood, a great Princess from Hudson
+Bay, and the handsomest woman of the North, the kindest and most
+generous to those in sorrow or trouble. The White Queen she is called.
+Oh, yes, if I had a sister that needed protection, I should send her to
+the White Queen. Oh, do not be afraid." Then she took both of Jeanne's
+hands in hers and kissed her on the forehead. "I am glad I did not have
+to kill you," she added with the naïve innocence of perfect truth. "I
+think you are the kind of girl out of whom they make nuns, who care for
+no men but the fathers, and yet they must adore some one. In thy convent
+cell pray for me that I may have brave sons."
+
+Jeanne made no protest against the misconstruction. Her heart was filled
+with gratitude and wonder, yet she could hardly believe.
+
+"You must take my blanket," and Owaissa began draping it about her.
+
+"But--Noko?" said the French girl.
+
+"Noko is soundly asleep. And the sailors are throwing dice or drinking
+rum. Their master cannot be back until dark. Go your way proudly, as if
+you had the blood of a hundred braves in your veins. They are often a
+cowardly set, challenging those who are weak and fearful. Do not mind."
+
+"Oh, the good Father bless you forevermore." Jeanne caught the hands and
+covered them with kisses. "And you will not be afraid of--of _his_
+anger?"
+
+"I am not afraid. I am glad I came, though it was with such a desperate
+purpose. Here is my ring," and she slipped it on Jeanne's finger. "Give
+it to Wanita when you are landed. He is faithful to me and this is our
+seal."
+
+She unlocked the door. Noko was in a little heap on the mat, snoring.
+
+"Go straight over. Never mind the men. You will see the plank, and then
+go round the little point. Adieu. I wish thee a safe voyage home."
+
+Jeanne pressed the hands again. She was like one in a dream. She felt
+afraid the men would question her, perhaps order her back. Two of them
+were asleep. She tripped down the plank, turned the corner of the dock
+and saw the clump of trees. Still she hardly dared breathe until she had
+passed it and found the canoe beached, and a slim young Indian pacing up
+and down.
+
+"Wanita, Wanita!" she exclaimed, timorously.
+
+He studied her in surprise. Yes, that was her blanket. "Mistress--"
+going closer, and then hesitating.
+
+"Here is her ring, Owaissa's ring. And she bade me--she stays on the
+boat. Louis Marsac comes with a priest."
+
+"Then it was a lie, an awful black lie they told my mistress about his
+marrying a French girl! By all the moons in a twelvemonth she is his
+wife. And you--" studying her with severe scrutiny.
+
+"I am the French girl. It was a mistake. But I must get away, and she
+sends me to the White Chief. She said one could trust you to the death."
+
+"I would go to the death for my beautiful mistress. The White
+Chief--yes."
+
+Then he helped her into the canoe and made her comfortable with the
+blankets.
+
+"I wish it were earlier," he exclaimed. "The purple spirits of the night
+are stretching out their hands. You will not be afraid? It is a long
+pull."
+
+"Oh, no, no!" She drew a relieved breath, but every pulse had been so
+weighted with anxiety for days that she could not realize her freedom.
+Oh, how good the blessed air felt! All the wide expanse about her
+brought a thrill of delight, still not unmixed with fear. A boat came
+bearing down upon them and she held her breath, but the canoe moved
+aside adroitly.
+
+"They were drunken fellows, no doubt," said Wanita. "It is told of the
+Sieur Cadillac that he weakened the rum and would allow a man only so
+much. It is a pity there is no such strictness now. The White Chief
+tries."
+
+"Is he chief of the Indians?" she asked, vaguely.
+
+"Oh, no. He is in the great council of the fur traders, but he has ever
+been fair to the Indians; strict, too, and they honor him, believe in
+him, and do his bidding. That is, most of them do. He settles many
+quarrels. It is not now as it used to be. Since the coming of the white
+men tribes have been split in parts and chiefs of the same nation fight
+for power. He tries to keep peace between them and the whites. There
+would be many wars without him."
+
+"But he is not an Indian?"
+
+"Oh, no. He came from Canada to the fur country. He had known great
+sorrow. His wife and child had been massacred by the red men. And then
+he married a beautiful Indian princess somewhere about Hudson Bay. He
+had so many men under him that they called him the White Chief, and
+partly, I think, because he was so noble and large and grand. Then he
+built his house on the island where one side is perpendicular rocks, and
+fortified it and made of it a most lovely home for his beautiful wife.
+She has everything from all countries, it is said, and the house is
+grand as the palaces at Montreal. They have two sons. They come over to
+Fort St. Ignace and Michilimackinac, and he has taken her to Quebec,
+where, it is said, she was entertained like a queen. He is very proud of
+her and adores her. Ah, if you could see him you would know at once that
+he was a grand man. But courageous and high spirited as he is, he is
+always counseling peace. There is much bitter feeling still between the
+French and English, and now, since the Americans have conquered, the
+English are stirring up strife with the Indians, it is said. He advises
+them to make homes and settle peaceably, and hunt at the north where
+there is still plenty of game. He has bought tracts of land for them,
+but my nation are not like the white men. They despise work." Jeanne
+knew that well.
+
+Then Wanita asked her about Detroit. He had been up North; his mistress
+had lived at Mackinaw and St. Ignace. All the spring she had been about
+Lake Superior, which was grand, and the big lake on the other side, Lake
+Michigan. Sometimes he had cared for M. Marsac's boat.
+
+"M. Marsac was your lady's lover."
+
+"Oh, Mam'selle, he was devoted before he went to Detroit. He is rich and
+handsome, you see, and there are many women smiling on him. There were
+at Mackinaw. The white ladies do not mind a little Indian blood when
+there is money. But Owaissa is for him, and she will be as grand a lady
+as the White Queen."
+
+Wanita wished in his secret soul Louis Marsac was as grand as the White
+Chief. But few men were.
+
+And now the twilight was gone and the broad sheet of water was weird,
+moving blackness. The canoe seemed so frail, that used as she was to it
+Jeanne drew in fear with every breath. If there were only a moon! It was
+cold, too. She drew the blanket closer round her.
+
+"Are we almost there?" she inquired.
+
+"Oh, no, Mam'selle. Are you tired? If you could sing to pass away the
+time."
+
+Jeanne essayed some French songs, but her heart was not light enough.
+Then they lapsed into silence. On and on--there was no wind and they
+were out of the strongest current, so there was no danger.
+
+What was Owaissa doing, thinking? Had Louis Marsac returned with the
+priest? Was it true she had come to kill her, Jeanne? How strange one
+should love a man so deeply, strongly! She shuddered. She had only cared
+for quiet and pleasant wanderings and Pani. Perhaps it was all some
+horrid dream. Or was it true one could be bewitched?
+
+Sometimes she drowsed. She recalled the night she had slept against the
+Huron's knee. Would the hours or the journey ever come to an end? She
+said over the rosary and all the prayers she could remember,
+interspersing them with thanksgivings to the good God and to Owaissa.
+
+Something black and awful loomed up before her. She uttered a cry.
+
+"We are here. It is nothing to be afraid of. We go around to this side,
+so. There is a little basin here, and a sort of wharf. It is almost a
+fort;" and he laughed lightly as he helped her out on to dry ground,
+stony though it was.
+
+"I will find the gate. The White Chief has this side well picketed, and
+there are enough within to defend it against odds, if the odds ever
+come. Now, here is the gate and I must ring. Do not be frightened, it is
+always closed at dusk."
+
+The clang made Jeanne jump, and cling to her guide.
+
+There was a step after a long while. A plate was pushed partly aside and
+a voice said through the grating:--
+
+"What is it?"
+
+"It is I, Wanita, Loudac. I have some one who has been in danger, a
+little maid from Detroit, stolen away by Indians. My mistress Owaissa
+begs shelter for her until she can be returned. It was late when she was
+rescued from her enemies and we stole away by night."
+
+"How many of you?"
+
+"The maid and myself, and--our canoe," with a light laugh. "The canoe is
+fastened to a stake. And I must go back, so there is but one to throw
+upon your kindness."
+
+"Wait," said the gate keeper. There were great bolts to be withdrawn and
+chains rattled. Presently the creaking gate opened a little way and the
+light of a lantern flared out. Jeanne was dazed for an instant.
+
+"I will not come in, good Loudac. It is a long way back and my mistress
+may need me. Here is the maid," and he gave Jeanne a gentle push.
+
+"From Detroit?" The interlocutor was a stout Canadian and seemed
+gigantic to Jeanne. "And 'scaped from the Indians. Lucky they did not
+spell, it with another letter and leave no top to thy head. Wanita, lad,
+thou hadst better come in and have a sup of wine. Or remain all night."
+
+But Wanita refused with cordial thanks.
+
+"Here is the ring;" and Jeanne pressed it in his hand. "And a thousand
+thanks, tell your brave mistress."
+
+With a quick adieu he was gone.
+
+"I must find shelter for you to-night, for our lady cannot be
+disturbed," he said. "Come this way."
+
+The bolts and chains were put in place again. Jeanne followed her guide
+up some steps and through another gate. There was a lodge and a light
+within. A woman in a short gown of blue and a striped petticoat looked
+out of the doorway and made a sharp inquiry.
+
+"A maid who must tell her own story, good dame, for my wits seem
+scattered. She hath been sent by Owaissa the Indian maiden and brought
+by her servitor in a canoe. Tell thy story, child."
+
+"She is shivering with the cold and looks blue as a midwinter icicle.
+She must have some tea to warm her up. Stir a fire, Loudac."
+
+Jeanne sat trembling and the tears ran down her cheeks. In a moment
+there was a fragrant blaze of pine boughs, and a kettle swung over them.
+
+"A little brandy would be better," said the man.
+
+Now that the strain was over Jeanne felt as if all her strength had
+given way. Was she really safe? The hearty French accent sounded like
+home; and the dark, round face, with the almost laughing black eyes,
+albeit there were wrinkles around them, cheered her inmost heart. The
+tea was soon made and the brandy added a piquant flavor.
+
+"Thou wert late starting on thy journey," said the woman, a tint of
+suspicion in her voice.
+
+"It was only this afternoon that the Indian maid Owaissa found me and
+heard my story. For safety she sent me away at once. Perhaps in the
+daytime I might have been pursued."
+
+"True, true. An Indian knows best about Indian ways. Most of them are a
+treacherous, bad lot, made much worse by drink, but there are a few. The
+maiden Owaissa comes from the Strait."
+
+"To meet her lover it was said. He is that handsome half or quarter
+breed, Louis Marsac, a shrewd trader for one so young, and who, with his
+father, is delving in the copper mines of Lake Superior. Yes. What went
+before, child?"
+
+She was glad to leave Marsac. Could she tell her story without
+incriminating him? The first part went smoothly enough. Then she
+hesitated and felt her color rising. "It was at Bois Blanc," she said.
+"They had left me alone. The beautiful Indian girl was there, and I
+begged her to save me. I told her my story and she wrapped me in her
+blanket. We were much the same size, and though I trembled so that my
+knees bent under me, I went off the boat without any question. Wanita
+was waiting with the canoe and brought me over."
+
+"Were you not afraid--and there was no moon?"
+
+Jeanne raised her eyes to the kindly ones.
+
+"Oh, yes," she answered with a shiver. "Lake Huron is so large, only
+there are islands scattered about. But when it grew very dark I simply
+trusted Wanita."
+
+"And he could go in a canoe to the end of the world if it was all lakes
+and rivers," exclaimed Loudac. "These Indians--did you know their
+tribe?"
+
+"I think two were Hurons. They could talk bad French," and she smiled.
+"And Chippewa, that I can understand quite well."
+
+"Were your relatives in Detroit rich people?"
+
+"Oh, no, I have none." Then Jeanne related her simple story.
+
+"Strange! strange!" Loudac stroked his beard and drew his bushy eyebrows
+together. "There could have been no thought of ransom. I mistrust,
+pretty maid, that it must have been some one who watched thee and wanted
+thee for his squaw. Up in the wild North there would have been little
+chance to escape. Thou hast been fortunate in finding Owaissa. Her
+lover's boat came in at Bois Blanc. I suppose she went to meet him.
+Dame, it is late, and the child looks tired as one might well be after a
+long journey. Canst thou not find her a bed?"
+
+The bed was soon improvised. Jeanne thanked her protectors with
+overflowing eyes and tremulous voice. For a long while she knelt in
+thanksgiving, her simple faith discerning a real miracle in her escape.
+Surely God had sent Owaissa. She forgot the fell purpose of the Indian
+girl, and wondered at her love for Louis Marsac.
+
+There was much confusion and noise among the children the next morning
+while the dame was giving them their breakfast, but Jeanne slept soundly
+until they were all out at play. The sun shone as she opened her eyes,
+and one ray slanted across the window. Oh, where was she, in prison
+still? Then, by slow degrees, yesterday came back to her.
+
+The dame greeted her cheerily, and set before her a simple breakfast
+that tasted most delicious. Loudac had gone up to the great house.
+
+"For when the White Chief is away, Loudac has charge of everything. Once
+he saved the master's life, he was his servant then, and since that time
+he has been the head of all matters. The White Chief trusts him like a
+brother. But look you, both of them came from France and there is no
+mixed blood in them. Rough as Loudac seems his mother was of gentle
+birth, and he can read and write not only French but English, and is a
+judge of fine furs and understands business. He is shrewd to know people
+as well," and she gave a satisfied smile.
+
+"The White Chief is away--"
+
+"He has gone up to Michilimackinac, perhaps to Hudson Bay. But all goes
+on here just the same. Loudac has things well in hand."
+
+"I would like to return to Detroit," ventured Jeanne, timidly, glancing
+up with beseeching eyes.
+
+"That thou shalt, _ma petite_. There will be boats going down before
+cold weather. The winter comes early here, and yet it is not so cold as
+one would think, with plenty of furs and fire."
+
+"And the--the queen--" hesitatingly.
+
+The dame laughed heartsomely.
+
+"Thou shalt see her. She is our delight, our dear mistress, and has many
+names given her by her loving chief. It is almost ten years ago that he
+found her up North, a queen then with a little band of braves who adored
+her. They had come from some far country. She was not of their tribe;
+she is as white almost as thou, and tall and handsome and soft of voice
+as the sweetest singing bird. Then they fell in love with each other,
+and the good père at Hudson Bay married them. He brought her here. She
+bought the island because it seemed fortified with the great rocks on
+two sides of it. Often they go away, for he has a fine vessel that is
+like a palace in its fittings. They have been to Montreal and out on
+that wild, strange coast full of islands. Whatever she wishes is hers."
+
+Jeanne sighed a little, but not from envy.
+
+"There are two boys, twins, and a little daughter born but two years
+ago. The boys are big and handsome, and wild as deer. But their father
+will have them run and climb and shout and play ball and shoot arrows,
+but not go out alone in a boat. Yet they can swim like fishes. Come, if
+you can eat no more breakfast, let us go out. I do not believe Detroit
+can match this, though it is larger."
+
+There was a roadway about the palisades with two gates near either end,
+then a curiously laid up stone wall where the natural rocks had failed.
+Here on this plateau were cottages and lodges. Canadians, some trusty
+Indians, and a sprinkling of half-breeds made a settlement, it would
+seem. There were gardens abloom, fruit trees and grapevines, making a
+pleasant odor in the early autumnal sun. There were sheep pasturing, a
+herd of tame, beautiful deer, cows in great sheds, and fowl
+domesticated, while doves went circling around overhead. Still another
+wall almost hid the home of the White Chief, the name he was best known
+by, and as one might say at that time a name to conjure with, for he was
+really the manipulator of many of the Indian tribes, and endeavored to
+keep the peace among them and deal fairly with them in the fur trading.
+To the English he had proved a trusty neighbor, to the French a true
+friend, though his advice was not always palatable.
+
+"Oh, it is beautiful!" cried Jeanne. "Something like the farms outside
+of the palisades at home. Inside--" she made a pretty gesture of
+dissatisfaction,--"the town is crowded and dirty and full of bad smells,
+except at the end where some of the officers and the court people and
+the rich folk live. They are building some new places up by the military
+gardens and St. Anne's Church, and beside the little river, where
+everything keeps green and which is full of ducks and swans and herons.
+And the great river is such a busy place since the Americans came. But
+they have not so many soldiers in the garrison, and we miss the glitter
+of the scarlet and the gold lace and the music they used to have. Still
+the flag is beautiful; and most people seem satisfied. I like the
+Americans," Jeanne said proudly.
+
+The dame shook her head, but not in disapprobation altogether.
+
+"The world is getting much mixed," she said. "I think the English still
+feel bitter, but the French accept. Loudac hears the White Chief talk of
+a time when all shall live together peaceably and, instead of trying to
+destroy each other and their cities and towns, they will join hands in
+business and improvement. For that is why the Indians perish and leave
+so few traces,--they are bent upon each other's destruction, so the
+villages and fields are laid waste and people die of starvation. There
+are great cities in Europe, I have heard, that have stood hundreds of
+years, and palaces and beautiful churches, and things last through many
+generations. Loudac was in a town called Paris, when he was a little
+boy, and it is like a place reared by fairy hands."
+
+"Oh, yes, Madame, it is a wonderful city. I have read about it and seen
+pictures," said Jeanne, eagerly.
+
+"There are books and pictures up at the great house. And here comes
+Loudac."
+
+"Ha! my bright Morning Star, you look the better for a night's sleep. I
+have been telling Miladi about our frightened refugee, and she wishes to
+see you. Will it please you to come now?"
+
+Jeanne glanced from one to the other.
+
+"Oh, you need not feel afraid, you that have escaped Indians and crossed
+the lake in the night. For Miladi, although the wife of the great White
+Chief, and grand enough when necessary, is very gentle and kindly; is
+she not, dame?"
+
+The dame laughed. "Run along, _petite_," she said. "I must attend to the
+house."
+
+Inside this inclosure there was a really beautiful garden, a tiny park
+it might be justly called. Birds of many kinds flew about, others of
+strange plumage were in latticed cages. The walks were winding to make
+the place appear larger; there was a small lake with water plants and
+swans, and beds of brilliant flowers, trees that gave shade, vines that
+distributed fragrance with every passing breeze. Here in a dainty nest,
+that was indeed a vine-covered porch, sat a lady in a chair that
+suggested a throne to Jeanne, who thought she had never seen anyone so
+beautiful. She was not fair like either English or French, but the
+admixture of blood had given her a fine, creamy skin and large brownish
+eyes that had the softness of a fawn's. Every feature was clearly cut
+and perfect. Jeanne thought of a marble head that stood on the shelf of
+the minister's study at Detroit that was said to have come from a far
+country called Italy.
+
+As for her attire, that was flowered silk and fine lace, and some jewels
+on her arms and fingers in golden settings that glittered like the rays
+of sunrise when she moved them. There were buckles of gems on her
+slippers, and stockings of strangely netted silk where the ivory flesh
+shone through.
+
+Jeanne dropped on her knees at the vision, and it smiled on her. No
+saint at the Recollet house was half as fair.
+
+"This is the little voyager cast upon our shore, Miladi," explained
+Loudac with a bow and a touch of his hand to his head. "But Wanita did
+not wreck her, only left her in our safe keeping until she can be
+returned to her friends."
+
+"Sit here, Mam'selle," and Miladi pointed to a cushion near her. Her
+French was musical and soft. "It is quite a story, and not such an
+unusual one either. Many maidens, I think, have been taken from home and
+friends, and have finally learned to be satisfied with a life they would
+not have chosen. You came from Detroit, Loudac says."
+
+"Yes, Miladi," Jeanne answered, timidly.
+
+"Do not be afraid." The lady laughed with ripples like a little stream
+dropping over pebbly ways. "There is a story that my mother shared a
+like fate, only she had to grow content with strange people and a
+strange land. How was it? I have a taste for adventures."
+
+Jeanne's girlish courage and spirits came back in a flash. Yet she told
+her story carefully, bridging the little space where so much was left
+out.
+
+"Owaissa is a courageous maiden. It is said she carries a dagger which
+she would not be afraid to use. She has some strange power over the
+Indians. Her father was wronged out of his chieftaincy and then
+murdered. She demanded the blood price, and his enemies were given up to
+the tribe that took her under their protection. Yet I wonder a little
+that she should choose Louis Marsac. The White Chief, my husband, does
+not think him quite true in all his dealings, especially with women. But
+if he trifled with her there would be a tragedy."
+
+Jeanne shuddered. The tragedy had come so near.
+
+Miladi asked some questions hard for Jeanne to answer with truth; how
+she had come up the lake, and if her captors had treated her well.
+
+"It seems quite mysterious," she said.
+
+Then they talked about Detroit, and Jeanne's past life, and Miladi was
+more puzzled than ever.
+
+A slim young Indian woman brought in the baby, a dainty girl of two
+years old, who ran swiftly to her mother and began chattering in French
+with pretty broken words, and looking shyly at the guest. Then there was
+a great shout and a rush as of a flock of birds.
+
+"I beat Gaston, maman, six out of ten shots."
+
+"But two arrows broke. They were good for nothing," interrupted the
+second boy.
+
+"And can't Antoine take us out fishing--" the boy stopped and came close
+to Jeanne, wonderingly.
+
+"This is Mademoiselle Jeanne," their mother said, "Robert and Gaston.
+Being twins there is no elder."
+
+They were round, rosy, sunburned boys, with laughing eyes and lithe
+figures.
+
+"Can you swim?" queried Robert.
+
+"Oh, yes," and a bright smile crossed Jeanne's face.
+
+"And paddle a canoe and row?"
+
+"Yes, indeed. Many a time in the Strait, with the beautiful green shores
+opposite."
+
+"What strait, Mackinaw?"
+
+"Oh, no. It is the river Detroit, but often called a strait."
+
+"You can't manage a bow!" declared Robert.
+
+"Yes. And fire a pistol. And--run."
+
+"And climb trees?" The dark eyes were alight with mirth.
+
+"Why, yes." Then Jeanne glanced deprecatingly at Miladi, so elegant, so
+refined, if the word had come to her, but it remained in the chaos of
+thought. "I was but a wild little thing in childhood, and there was no
+one except Pani--my Indian nurse."
+
+"Then come and run a race. The Canadians are clumsy fellows."
+
+Robert grasped her arm. Gaston stood tilted on one foot, as if he could
+fly.
+
+"Oh, boys, you are too rough! Mam'selle will think you worse than wild
+Indians."
+
+"I should like to run with them, Miladi." Jeanne's eyes sparkled, and
+she was a child again.
+
+"As thou wilt." Miladi smiled and nodded. So much of the delight of her
+soul was centered in these two handsome, fearless boys beloved by their
+father. Once she remembered she had felt almost jealous.
+
+"I will give you some odds," cried Jeanne. "I will not start until you
+have reached the pole of the roses."
+
+"No! no! no!" they shouted. "Girls cannot run at the end of the race.
+There we will win," and they laughed gayly.
+
+They were fleet as deer. Jeanne did not mean to outstrip them, but she
+was seized with enthusiasm. It was as if she had wings to her feet and
+they would not lag, even if the head desired it. She was breathless,
+with flying hair and brilliant color, as she reached the goal and turned
+to see two brave but disappointed faces.
+
+"I told you it was not fair," she began. "I am larger than you, taller
+and older. You should have had odds."
+
+"But we can always beat Berthê Loudac, and she is almost as big as you.
+And some of the Indian boys."
+
+"Let us try it again. Now I will give you to the larch tree."
+
+They started off, looking back when they reached that point and saw her
+come flying. She was not so eager now and held back toward the last.
+Gaston came in with a shout of triumph and in two seconds Robert was at
+the goal. She laughed joyously. Their mother leaning over a railing
+laughed also and waved her handkerchief as they both glanced up.
+
+"How old are you?" asked Robert.
+
+"Almost sixteen, I believe."
+
+"And we are eight."
+
+"That is twice as old."
+
+"And when we are sixteen we will run twice as fast, faster than the
+Indians. We shall win the races. We are going up North then. Don't you
+want to go?"
+
+Jeanne shook her head.
+
+"But then girls do not go fur hunting. Only the squaws follow, to make
+the fires and cook the meals. And you would be too pretty for a squaw.
+You must be a lady like maman, and have plenty of servants. Oh, we will
+ask father to bring you a husband as strong and nice and big as he is!
+And then he will build you a lodge here. No one can have such a splendid
+house as maman; he once said so."
+
+"Come down to the palisade."
+
+They ran down together. The inhabitants of the cottages and lodges
+looked out after them, they were so gay and full of frolic. The gate was
+open and Robert peered out. Jeanne took a step forward. She was anxious
+to see what was beyond.
+
+"Don't." Gaston put out his arm to bar her. "We promised never to go
+outside without permission. Only a coward or a thief tells lies and
+breaks his word. If we could find Loudac."
+
+Loudac had gone over to Manitou. The dame had been baking some brown
+bread with spice seeds in it, and she gave them all a great slice. How
+good it tasted! Then they were off again, and when they reached the
+house their mother had gone in, for the porch was hot from the sun.
+
+Jeanne had never seen anything like it. The walls seemed set with
+wonderful stones and gems, some ground to facets. Long strips of
+embroidery in brilliant colors and curious designs parted them like
+frames. Here a border of wampum shells, white, pale grayish, pink and
+purple; there great flowers made of shells gathered from the shores of
+lakes and rivers. At the far end of the room were two Indian girls
+working on bead embroidery, another sewing rows of beautiful feathers in
+a border.
+
+The boys were eager to rehearse their good time.
+
+"If they have not tired you to death," said their mother.
+
+Jeanne protested that she had enjoyed it quite as much.
+
+"It is a luxury to have a new playfellow now that their father is away.
+They are so fond of him. Sometimes we all go."
+
+"When will he return, Madame?"
+
+"In a fortnight or so. Then he takes the long winter journey. That is a
+more dreary time, but we shut ourselves up and have blazing fires and
+work and read, and the time passes. There is the great hope at the end,"
+and she gave an exquisite smile.
+
+"But--Miladi--how can I get back to Detroit?"
+
+"Must thou go?" endearingly. "If there are no parents--"
+
+"But there is my poor Pani! And Detroit that I am so familiar with. Then
+I dare say they are all wondering."
+
+"Loudac will tell us when he comes back."
+
+Loudac had a budget of news. First there had been a marriage that very
+morning on the "Flying Star," the pretty boat of Louis Marsac, and
+Owaissa was the bride. There had been a feast given to the men, and the
+young mistress had stood before them to have her health drunk and
+receive the good wishes and a belt of wampum, with a lovely white
+doeskin cloak that was like velvet. Then they had set sail for Lake
+Superior.
+
+Jeanne was very glad of the friendly twilight. She felt her face grow
+red and cold by turns.
+
+"And the maiden Owaissa will be very happy," she said half in assertion,
+half inquiry.
+
+"He is smart and handsome, but tricky at times, and overfond of brandy.
+But if a girl gets the man she wants all is well for a time, at least."
+
+The next bit of news was that the "Return" would go to Detroit in four
+or five days.
+
+"Not direct, which will be less pleasant. For she goes first over to
+Barre, and then crosses the lake again and stops at Presque Isle. After
+that it is clear sailing. A boat of hides and freight goes down, but
+that would not be pleasant. To-morrow I will see the captain of the
+'Return.'"
+
+"Thou wouldst not like a winter among us here?" inquired the dame. "It
+is not so bad, and the boys at the great house are wild over thee."
+
+"Oh, I must go," Jeanne said, with breathless eagerness. "I shall
+remember all your kindness through my whole life."
+
+"Home is home," laughed good-humored Loudac.
+
+Very happy and light-hearted was Jeanne Angelot. There would be nothing
+more to fear from Louis Marsac. How had they settled it, she wondered.
+
+Owaissa had said that she sent the child home under proper escort. Louis
+Marsac ground his teeth, and yet--did he care so much for the girl only
+to gratify a mean revenge for one thing?--the other he was not quite
+sure of. At all events Jeanne Angelot would always be the loser. The
+Detroit foundling,--and he gave a short laugh like the snarl of a dog.
+
+Delightful as everything was, Jeanne counted the days. She was up at the
+great house and read to its lovely mistress, sang and danced with baby
+Angelique, taking hold of the tiny hands and swinging round in graceful
+circles, playing games with the boys and doing feats, and trying to
+laugh off the lamentations, which sometimes came near to tears.
+
+"How strange," said Miladi the last evening, "that we have never heard
+your family name. Or--had you none?"
+
+"Oh, yes, Madame. Some one took good care of that. It was written on a
+paper pinned to me; and," laughing, "pricked into my skin so I could not
+deny it. It is Jeanne Angelot. But there are no Angelots in Detroit."
+
+Miladi grasped her arm so tightly that Jeanne's breath came with a
+flutter.
+
+"Are there none? Are you quite sure?" There was a strained sound in her
+voice wont to be so musical.
+
+"Oh, yes. Father Rameau searched."
+
+Miladi dropped her arm.
+
+"It grows chilly," she said, presently. "Shall we go in, or--" Somehow
+her voice seemed changed.
+
+"I had better run down to the dame's. Good night, Miladi. I have been so
+happy. It is like a lovely dream of the summer under the trees. I am
+sorry I cannot be content to stay;" and she kissed the soft hand, that
+now was cold.
+
+Miladi made no reply. Only she stood still longer in the cold, and
+murmured, "Jeanne Angelot, Jeanne Angelot." And then she recalled a
+laughing remark of Gaston's only that morning:--
+
+"Jeanne has wintry blue eyes like my father's! Look, maman, the frost
+almost sparkles in them. And he says his came from the wonderful skies
+above the Arctic seas. Do you know where that is?"
+
+No, Jeanne did not know where that was. But there were plenty of
+blue-eyed people in Detroit.
+
+She ran down the steps in the light of the young crescent moon, and
+rubbed her arm a little where the fingers had almost made a dent.
+
+The next day the "Return" touched at the island. It was not at all out
+of her way, and the captain and Loudac were warm friends. The boys clung
+to Jeanne and would hardly let her go.
+
+"I wish my father could buy you for another sister," exclaimed Gaston
+hanging to her skirt. "If he were here he would not let you go, I am
+quite sure. It will take such a long while for Angelique to grow up, and
+then we shall be men."
+
+Did Miladi give her a rather formal farewell? It seemed as if something
+chilled Jeanne.
+
+Loudac and the dame were effusive enough to make amends. The "Return"
+was larger but not as jaunty as the "Flying Star," and it smelled
+strongly of salt fish. But Jeanne stepped joyously aboard--was she not
+going to La Belle Detroit? All her pulses thrilled with anticipation.
+Home! How sweet a word it was!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+
+A PÆAN OF GLADNESS.
+
+
+Jeanne's little cabin was very plain, but the window gave a nice lookout
+and could be opened at will. They would cross the lake and go down to
+Barre on the Canada side, and that would give a different view. Was the
+ocean so very much larger, she wondered in her inexperienced fashion.
+
+They passed a few boats going up. It was curiously lonely, with great
+reaches of stunted pines and scrubby hemlocks, then a space of rather
+sandy shore and wiry grasses that reared themselves stiffly. There was
+nothing to read. And now she wished for some sewing. She was glad enough
+when night came. The next morning the sky was overcast and there was a
+dull, threatening wind.
+
+"If we can make Barre before it storms," said Captain Mallard. "There is
+a good harbor, and a fierce east wind would drive us back to the other
+side."
+
+They fortunately made Barre before the storm broke in all its
+fierceness, but it was terrible! There was a roar over the lake as if a
+drove of bisons were tearing madly about. The great waves pounded and
+battered against the sides of the vessel as if they would break through,
+and the surf flew up from the point that jutted out and made the harbor.
+Gulls and bitterns went screaming, and Jeanne held her breath in very
+terror. Earth and lake and sky were one vast picture of desolation, for
+where the eye stopped the mind went on.
+
+All night and all the next day the storm continued beating and bruising.
+But at evening the wind fell, and Jeanne gave thanks with a hearty and
+humble mind, and slept that night. When she woke the sun was struggling
+through a sky of gray, with some faint yellow and green tints that came
+and went as if not sure of their way. By degrees a dull red commingled
+with them and a sulky sun showed his face.
+
+"It is well we were in a safe port, Mam'selle, for the storm has been
+terrible," explained the worthy captain. "As it is, in the darkness we
+have lost one man overboard, and a day must be spent in repairing. The
+little town is not much, but it might be a rest to go ashore."
+
+"Yes," said Jeanne, rather absently.
+
+"If you have a good blanket--the cold has sprung up suddenly. It is
+squaw winter, which comes sooner you know, like a woman's temper, and
+spends itself, clearing the way for smiles again."
+
+Dame Loudac had given her a fur cap with lappets that made a hood of it.
+She had Owaissa's blanket, and some warm leggings. The captain helped
+her ashore, but it was a most uncheerful outlook. A few streets with
+roughly built cottages, some shops at the wharf, a packing house with
+the refuse of fish about, and a wide stretch of level land on which the
+wind had swept the trees so fiercely that most of them leaned westward.
+
+"Oh, how can anyone live here!" cried Jeanne with a shiver, contrasting
+it with the beautiful island home of the White Chief.
+
+The inhabitants were mostly French, rugged, with dull faces and clumsy
+figures. They looked curiously at Jeanne and then went on with their
+various employments.
+
+But the walk freshened her and dispelled the listlessness. She gathered
+a few shells on one strip of sandy beach, and watched many curious
+creeping things. A brown lizard glided in and out of some tufts of sedge
+grass; a great flock of birds high up in the air went flying southward.
+Many gulls ran along with their shrill cries.
+
+Oh, if she were at home! Would she ever reach there? For now gay-hearted
+Jeanne seemed suddenly dispirited.
+
+All the day kept cold, though at sunset the western sky blazed out with
+glory and the wind died down. Captain Mallard would not start until
+morning, however, and though the air had a keenness in it the sun gave
+out a promising warmth.
+
+Then they made Presque Isle, where there was much unloading, and some
+stores to be taken on board. After that it grew warmer and Jeanne
+enjoyed being on deck, and the memory of how she had come up the lake
+was like a vague dream. They sailed past beautiful shores, islands where
+vegetation was turning brown and yellow; here marshes still a vivid
+green, there great clumps of trees with scarlet branches dancing in the
+sun, the hickories beginning to shrivel and turn yellow, the evergreens
+black in the shady places. At night the stars came out and the moon
+swelled in her slender body, her horns losing their distinct outlines.
+
+But Jeanne had no patience even with the mysterious, beautiful night.
+The autumn was dying slowly, and she wondered who brought wood for Pani;
+if she sat by the lonely fire! It seemed months since she had been taken
+away.
+
+Yes, here was the familiar lake, the shores she knew so well. She could
+have danced for very gladness, though her eyes were tear-wet. And here
+it narrowed into the river, and oh, was there ever such a blessed sight!
+Every familiar point looked beautiful to her. There were some boats
+hurrying out, the captains hoping to make a return trip. But the
+crowded, businesslike aspect of summer was over.
+
+They pushed along to the King's wharf. It seemed to her all were strange
+faces. Was it really Detroit? St. Anne's bell came rolling down its
+sweet sound. The ship crunched, righted itself, crunched again, the rope
+was thrown out and made fast.
+
+"Mam'selle," said the captain, "we are in."
+
+She took his hand, the mute gratitude in her eyes, in her whole face;
+its sweetness touched him.
+
+"I hope you will find your friends well."
+
+"Oh, thank you!" she cried, with a long drawn breath. "Yes, that is my
+prayer."
+
+He was handing her off. The crowd, not very large, indeed, was all a
+blur before her eyes. She touched the ground, then she dropped on her
+knees.
+
+"No, no," to some one who would have raised her. "I must say a prayer,
+for I have come back to my own loved Detroit, my home. Oh, let me give
+thanks."
+
+"The saints be praised! It is Jeanne Angelot."
+
+She rose as suddenly as she had knelt. Up the narrow street she ran,
+while the astonished throng looked after her.
+
+"Holy Mother defend us!" and a man crossed himself devoutly. "It is no
+living being, it is a ghost."
+
+For she had disappeared. The wondering eyes glanced on vacancy,
+stupefied.
+
+"I said she was dead from the first. She would never have gone off and
+left the poor Pani woman to die of grief. She sits there alone day after
+day, and now she will not eat, though Dame Margot and the Indian woman
+Wenonah try to comfort her. And this is Jeanne's spirit come for her.
+You will find her dead body in the cottage. Ah, I have seen the sign."
+
+"It was a strange disappearance!"
+
+"The captain can tell," said another, "for if she was rescued from the
+Indians he must have brought her down."
+
+"Yes, yes," and they rushed in search of the captain, wild with
+superstition and excitement.
+
+It was really Jeanne Angelot. She had been rescued and left at Bois
+Blanc, and then taken over to another island. A pretty, sweet young girl
+and no ghost, Jeanne Angelot by name.
+
+Jeanne sped on like a sprite, drawing her cap over her face. Ah, the
+familiar ways and sights, the stores here, the booths shut, for the
+outdoors trade was mostly over, the mingled French and English, the
+patois, the shouts to the horses and dogs and to the pedestrians to get
+out of the way. She glanced up St. Anne's street, she passed the
+barrack, where some soldiers sat in the sunshine cleaning up their
+accouterments. Children were playing games, as the space was wider here.
+The door of the cottage was closed. There was a litter on the steps,
+dead leaves blown into the corners and crushed.
+
+"O Pani! Pani!" she cried, and her heart stood still, her limbs
+trembled.
+
+The door was not locked. The shutter had been closed and the room was
+dark, coming out of the sunshine. There was not even a blaze on the
+hearth. A heap of something at the side--her sight grew clearer, a
+blanketed bundle, oh, yes--
+
+"Pani! Pani!" she cried again, all the love and longing of months in her
+voice--"Pani, it is I, Jeanne come back to you. Oh, surely God would not
+let you die now!"
+
+She was tearing away the wrappings. She found the face and kissed it
+with a passion of tenderness. It was cold, but not with the awful
+coldness of death. The lips murmured something. The hands took hold of
+her feebly.
+
+"It is Jeanne," she cried again, "your own Jeanne, who loves you with
+all her heart and soul, Jeanne, whom the good God has sent back to you,"
+and then the tears and kisses mingled in a rain on the poor old wrinkled
+face.
+
+"Jeanne," Pani said in a quavering voice, in which there was no
+realizing joy. Her lifeless fingers touched the warm, young face, wet
+with tears. "_Petite_ Jeanne!"
+
+"Your own Jeanne come back to you. Oh, Pani, you are cold and there is
+no fire. And all this dreary time--but the good God has sent me back,
+and I shall stay always, always--"
+
+She ran and opened the shutter. The traces of Pani's careful
+housekeeping were gone. Dust was everywhere, and even food was standing
+about as Wenonah had brought it in last night, while piles of furs and
+blankets were lying in a corner, waiting to be put up.
+
+"Now we must have a fire," she began, cheerily; and, shivering with the
+chill herself, she stirred the embers and ashes about. There was no lack
+of fuel. In a moment the flames began a heartsome sound, and the scarlet
+rays went climbing and racing over the twigs. There was a fragrant
+warmth, a brightness, but it showed the wan, brown face, almost ashen
+color from paleness, and the lack-luster eyes.
+
+"Pani!" Jeanne knelt before her and shook back the curls, smiled when
+she would fain have cried over the pitiful wreck, and at that moment she
+hated Louis Marsac more bitterly than ever. "Pani, dear, wake up. You
+have been asleep and dreamed bad dreams. Wake up, dear, my only love."
+
+Some consciousness stirred vaguely. It was as if she made a great
+effort, and the pale lips moved, but no sound came from them. Still the
+eyes lost some of their vacancy, the brow showed lines of thought.
+
+"Jeanne," she murmured again. "_Petite_ Jeanne. Did some one take you
+away? Or was it a dream?"
+
+"I am here, your own Jeanne. Look at the fire blaze. Now you will be
+warm, and remember, and we will both give thanks. Nothing shall ever
+part us again."
+
+Pani made an attempt to rise but fell back limply. Some one opened the
+door--it was Margot, who uttered a cry of affright and stood as if she
+was looking at a ghost, her eyes full of terror.
+
+"I have come back," began Jeanne in a cheerful tone. "Some Indians
+carried me away. I have been almost up to the Straits, and a good
+captain brought me home. Has she been ill?" motioning to Pani.
+
+"Only grief, Mam'selle. All the time she said you would return until a
+week or so ago, then she seemed to give up everything. I was very busy
+this morning, there are so many mouths to feed. I was finishing some
+work promised, there are good people willing to employ me. And then I
+came in to see--"
+
+"Jeanne has come home," Pani exclaimed suddenly. "Margot has been so
+good. I am old and of no use any more. I have been only a trouble."
+
+"Yes, yes, I want you. Oh, Pani, if I had come home and found you dead
+there would have been no one--and now you will get well again."
+
+Pani shook her head, but Jeanne could discern the awakening
+intelligence.
+
+"Mam'selle!" Margot seemed but half convinced. Then she glanced about
+the room. "M. Garis was in such haste for his boy's clothes that I have
+done nothing but sew and sew. Marie has gone out to service and there
+are only the little ones. My own house has been neglected."
+
+"Yes. Heaven will reward you for your goodness to her all this dreadful
+time, when you have had to work hard for your own."
+
+Margot began to pick up articles and straighten the room, to gather the
+few unwashed dishes.
+
+"Oh, Mam'selle, it made a great stir. The neighbors and the guards went
+out and searched. Some wild beast might have devoured you, but they
+found no trace. And they thought of Indians. Poor Pani! But all will be
+well now. Nay, Mam'selle," as Jeanne would have stopped her, "there will
+be people in, for strange news travels fast."
+
+That was very likely. In a brief while they had the room tidy. Then
+Jeanne fixed a seat at the other side of the fireplace, spread the fur
+rug over it, and led the unresisting Pani thither, wrapped her in a
+fresh blanket, and took off the cap, smoothing out the neglected hair
+that seemed strangely white about the pale, brown face. The high cheek
+bones left great hollows underneath, but in spite of the furrows of age
+the skin was soft.
+
+The woman gave a low, pleased laugh, and nodded.
+
+"Father Rameau will come," she said.
+
+"Father Rameau! Has he returned?" inquired the girl.
+
+"Oh, yes, Mam'selle, and so glad to get back to Detroit. I cannot tell
+you all his delight. And then his sorrow for you. For we were afraid you
+were no longer living. What a strange story!"
+
+"It has happened before, being carried away by Indians. Some time you
+shall hear all, Margot."
+
+The woman nodded. "And if you do not want me, Mam'selle--" for there was
+much to do at home.
+
+"I do not need you so much just now, but come in again presently. Oh, I
+can never repay you!"
+
+"Wenonah has done more than I."
+
+In the warmth of the fire and the comfortable atmosphere about her, Pani
+had fallen asleep. Jeanne glanced into the chamber. The beds were spread
+up, and, except dust, things were not bad, but she put them in the olden
+order. Then she bathed her face and combed the tangles out of her hair.
+Here was her blue woolen gown, with the curious embroidery of beads and
+bright thread, that Wenonah had made for her last winter, and she
+slipped into it. Now she felt like herself. She would cook a little
+dinner for herself and Pani. And, as she was kneeling on the wide
+hearthstone stirring some broth, the woman opened her eyes.
+
+"Jeanne," she said, and there was less wandering in her voice, "Jeanne,
+it was a dream. I have been asleep many moons, I think. The great evil
+spirits have had me, dragged me down into their dens, and I could not
+see you. Pani's heart has been sore distressed. It was all a dream,
+little one."
+
+"Yes, a dream!" Jeanne's arms were about her neck.
+
+"And you will never go away, not even if M. Bellestre sends for you!"
+she entreated.
+
+"I shall never go away from La Belle Detroit. Oh, Pani, there may be
+beautiful places in the world," and she thought of the island and
+Miladi, "but none so dear. No, we shall stay here always."
+
+But the news had traveled, and suddenly there was an influx; M. De Ber
+going home to his midday meal could not believe until he had seen Jeanne
+with his own eyes. And the narrow street was filled as with a
+procession.
+
+Jeanne kept to the simple story and let her listeners guess at motives
+or mysterious purposes. They had not harmed her. And a beautiful Indian
+maiden with much power over her red brethren had gained her freedom and
+sent her to a place of safety. Captain Mallard and the "Return" had
+brought her to the town, and that was all.
+
+It was almost night when Father Rameau came. He had grown strangely old,
+it seemed to her, and the peaceful lines of his face were disturbed. He
+had come back to the home of years to find himself curiously supplanted
+and new methods in use that savored less of love and more of strict
+rule. He had known so much of the hardness of the pioneer lives, of the
+enjoyment and courage the rare seasons of pleasure gave them, of the
+ignorance that could understand little of the higher life, of the strong
+prejudices and superstitions that had to be uprooted gently and perhaps
+wait for the next generation. Truth, honesty, and temperance were rare
+virtues and of slow growth. The new license brought in by the English
+was hard to combat, but he had worked in love and patience, and now he
+found his methods condemned and new ones instituted. His heart ached.
+
+But he was glad enough to clasp Jeanne to his heart and to hear her
+simple faith in the miracle that had been wrought. How great it was, and
+what her danger had been, he was never to know. For Owaissa's sake and
+her debt to her she kept silence as to that part.
+
+Certainly Jeanne had an ovation. When she went into the street there
+were smiles and bows. Some of the ladies came to speak to her, and
+invited her to their houses, and found her extremely interesting.
+
+Madame De Ber was very gracious, and both Rose and Marie were friendly
+enough. But Madame flung out one little arrow that missed its mark.
+
+"Your old lover soon consoled himself it seems. It is said he married a
+handsome Indian girl up at the Strait. I dare say he was pledged to
+her."
+
+"Yes. It was Owaissa who freed me from captivity. She came down to Bois
+Blanc and heard the story and sent me away in her own canoe with her
+favorite servant. Louis Marsac was up at St. Ignace getting a priest
+while she waited. I cannot think he was at all honest in proposing
+marriage to me when another had the right. But there was a grand time it
+was said, and they were very happy."
+
+Madame stared. "It was a good thing for you that you did not care for
+him. I had a distrust for him. He was too handsome. And then he believed
+nothing and laughed at religion. But the Marsacs are going to be very
+rich it is said. You did not see them married?"
+
+"Oh, no." Jeanne laughed with a bitterness she had not meant to put into
+her voice. "He was away when Owaissa came to me and heard my plight. And
+then there was need of haste. I had to go at once, and it would not have
+been pleasant even if I could have waited."
+
+"No, no. Men are much given to make love to young girls who have no one
+to look after them. They think nothing of it."
+
+"So it was fortunate that it was distasteful to me."
+
+Jeanne had a girl's pride in wanting this woman to understand that she
+was in no wise hurt by Marsac's recreancy. Then she added, "The girl was
+beautiful as Indian girls go, and it seems a most excellent marriage.
+She will be fond of that wild northern country. I could not be content
+in it."
+
+Jeanne felt that she was curiously changed, though sometimes she longed
+passionately for the wild little girl who had been ready for every kind
+of sport and pleasure. But the children with whom she had played were
+grown now, boys great strapping fellows with manners both coarse and
+shy, going to work at various businesses, and the girls had lovers or
+husbands,--they married early then. So she seemed left alone. She did
+not care for their chatter nor their babies of which they seemed so
+proud.
+
+So she kept her house and nursed Pani back to some semblance of her
+former self. But often it was a touch of the childhood of old age, and
+she rambled about those she had known, the De Longueils and Bellestres,
+and the night Jeanne had been left in her arms.
+
+Jeanne liked the chapel minister and his wife very much. The lady had so
+many subjects to converse about that never led to curious questions. The
+minister lent her books and they talked them over afterward. This was
+the world she liked.
+
+But she had not lost her love for that other world of freedom and
+exhilaration. After a brief Indian summer with days of such splendor
+that it seemed as if the great Artist was using his most magnificent
+colors, winter set in sharp and with a snap that startled every one.
+Snow blocked the roads and the sparkling expanse of crust on the top was
+the delight of the children, who walked and slid and pulled each other
+in long loads like a chain of dogs. And some of the lighter weight young
+people skated over it like flying birds. In the early evening all was
+gayety. Jeanne was not lacking in admirers. Young Loisel often called
+for her, and Martin Lavosse would easily have verged on the sentimental
+if Jeanne had not been so gay and unconscious. He was quite sore over
+the defection of Rose De Ber, who up in one of the new streets was
+hobnobbing with the gentry and quite looking down on the Beesons.
+
+Then the minister and his wife often joined these outdoor parties. Since
+he neither played cards, danced, nor drank in after-dinner symposiums,
+this spirited amusement stirred his blood. Pani went to bed early, and
+Margot would bring in her sewing and see that nothing untoward happened.
+
+Few of the stores were open in the evenings. Short as the day was, all
+the business could be done in it. Now and then one saw a feeble light in
+a window where a man stayed to figure on some loss or gain.
+
+Fleets were laid up or ventured only on short journeys. From the
+northern country came stories of ice and snow that chilled one's marrow.
+Yet the great fires, the fur rugs and curtains and soft blankets kept
+one comfortable within.
+
+There were some puzzling questions for Jeanne. She liked the freedom of
+conscience at the chapel, and then gentle Father Rameau drew her to the
+church.
+
+"If I had two souls," she said one day to the minister, "I should be
+quite satisfied. And it seems to me sometimes as if I were two different
+people," looking up with a bright half smile. "In childhood I used to
+lay some of my wildnesses on to the Indian side. I had a curious fancy
+for a strain of Indian blood."
+
+"But you have no Indian ancestry?"
+
+"I think not. I am not so anxious for it now," laughing gayly. "But that
+side of me protests against the servitude Father Gilbert so insists
+upon. And I hate confession. To turn one's self inside out, to give away
+the sacred trusts of others--"
+
+"No, that is not necessary," he declared hastily.
+
+"But when the other lives are tangled up with yours, when you can only
+tell half truths--"
+
+He smiled then. "Mademoiselle Jeanne, your short life has not had time
+to get much entangled with other lives, or with secrets you are aware
+of."
+
+"I think it has been curiously entangled," she replied. "M'sieu
+Bellestre, whom I have almost forgotten, M. Loisel--and the old
+schoolmaster I told you of, who I fancy now was a sad heretic--"
+
+She paused and flushed, while her eyes were slowly downcast. There was
+Monsieur St. Armand. How could she explain this to a priest? And was not
+Monsieur a heretic, too? That was her own precious, delightful secret,
+and she would give it into no one's keeping.
+
+She was very happy with all this mystery about her, he thought, very
+simple minded and sweet, doing the whole duty of a daughter to this poor
+Indian woman in return for her care. And when Pani was gone? She was
+surely fitted for some other walk in life, but she was unconsciously
+proud, she would not step over into it, some one must take her by the
+hand.
+
+"But why trouble about the Church, as you call it? It is the life one
+leads, not the organization. Are these people down by the wharves and
+those holes on St. Louis street, where there is drunkenness and gambling
+and swearing, any the better for their confession and their masses, and
+what not?"
+
+"If I was the priest they should not come unless they reformed," and her
+eyes flashed. "But when I turn away something calls me, and when I go
+there I do not like it. They want me to go among the sisters, to be a
+nun perhaps, and that I should hate."
+
+"At present you are doing a daughter's duty, let that suffice. Pani
+would soon die without you. When a new work comes to hand God will make
+the way plain for you."
+
+Jeanne gave an assenting nod.
+
+"She is a curious child," the minister said to his wife afterward, "and
+yet a very sweet, simple-hearted one. But to confine her to any routine
+would make her most unhappy."
+
+There were all the Christmas festivities, and Jeanne did enjoy them.
+Afterward--some of the days were very long it seemed. She was tired of
+the great white blanket of snow and ice, and the blackness of the
+evergreens that in the cold turned to groups of strange monsters. Bears
+came down out of the woods, the sheep dogs and their masters had fights
+with wolves; there were dances and the merry sounds of the violin in
+every household where there were men and boys. Then Lent, not very
+strictly kept after all, and afterward Easter and the glorious spring.
+
+Jeanne woke into new life. "I must go out for the first wild flowers,"
+she said to Pani. "It seems years since I had any. And the robin and the
+thrush and the wild pigeons have come back, and the trees bud with the
+baths of sunshine. All the air is throbbing with fragrance."
+
+Pani looked disturbed.
+
+"Oh, thou wilt not go to the woods?" she cried.
+
+"I will take Wenonah and one of the boys. They are sturdy now and can
+howl enough to scare even a panther. No, Pani, there is no one to carry
+me away. They would know that I should slip through their fingers;" and
+she laughed with the old time joyousness.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+A HEARTACHE FOR SOME ONE.
+
+
+"Jeanne," exclaimed Father Rameau, "thou art wanted at the Chapter
+house."
+
+He stood in the doorway of the little cottage and glanced curiously at
+the two inmates. Pani often amused herself cutting fringe for Wenonah,
+under the impression that it was needed in haste, and she was very happy
+over it. A bowl of violets and wild honeysuckle stood on the table, and
+some green branches hung about giving the room the odor of the new
+season and an air of rejoicing.
+
+"What now?" She took his wrinkled old hand in hers so plump and dimpled.
+"Have I committed some new sin? I have been so glad for days and days
+that I could only rejoice."
+
+"No, not sin. It is to hear a strange story and to be happier, perhaps."
+
+He looked curiously at her. "Oh, something has happened!" she cried. Was
+it possible M. St. Armand had returned? For days her mind had been full
+of him. And he would be the guest of the Fleurys.
+
+"Yes, I should spoil it in the telling, and I had strict injunctions."
+There was an air of mystery about him.
+
+Surely there was no trouble. But what could they want with her? A
+strange story! Could some one have learned about her mother or her
+father?
+
+"I will change my attire in a moment. Pani, Margot will gladly come and
+keep you company."
+
+"Nay, little one, I am not a baby to be watched," Pani protested.
+
+Jeanne laughed. She looked very sweet and charming in her blue and white
+frock made in a plain fashion, for it did not seem becoming in her to
+simulate the style of the great ladies. A soft, white kerchief was drawn
+in a knot about her shoulders, showing the shapely throat that was
+nearer ivory than pearl. In the knot she drew a few violets. Head gear
+she usually disdained, but now she put over her curls a dainty white cap
+that made a delicious contrast with the dark rings nestling below the
+edge. A pretty, lissome girl, with a step so light it would not have
+crushed the grass under her feet, had there been any.
+
+"There seems a great stir in the town," she said.
+
+They had turned into St. Anne's street and were going toward the church.
+
+"The new Governor General Hull is to come in a few weeks, and the
+officers have word to look him up a home, for governors have not lived
+in Detroit before. No doubt there will be fine times among the
+Americans."
+
+"And there flies a white flag down at the river's edge--has that
+something to do with it?"
+
+"Oh, the boat came in last evening. It is one of the great men up at the
+North, I think in the fur company. But he has much influence over the
+Indian tribes, and somehow there is a whisper that there may be
+disaffection and another union such as there was in Pontiac's time,
+which heaven forbid! He is called the White Chief."
+
+"The White Chief!" Jeanne stopped short in a maze of astonishment.
+
+"That has nothing to do with thee," said the priest. He preferred her
+interest to run in another channel.
+
+"But--I was on his island. I saw his wife and children, you remember.
+Oh, I must see him--"
+
+"Not now;"--and her guide put out his hand.
+
+"Oh, no," and she gave a short laugh. "As if I would go running after a
+strange man; a great chief! But he is not an Indian. He is French."
+
+"I do remember, yes. There seems a great commotion, as if all the ships
+had come in. The winter was so long and cold that business is all the
+more brisk. Here, child, pay a little attention to where you are going.
+There is a lack of reverence in you young people that pains me."
+
+"Pardon me, father." Jeanne knelt on the church steps and crossed
+herself. She had run up here in the dark the first night she had been
+back in Detroit, just to kneel and give thanks, but she had told no one.
+
+Then she walked decorously beside him. There was the Chapel of Retreat,
+a room where the nuns came and spent hours on their knees. They passed
+that, going down a wide hall. On one side some young girls sat doing
+fine embroidery for religious purposes. At the end a kind of reception
+room, and there were several people in this now, two priests and three
+woman in the garb of Ursuline nuns.
+
+Jeanne glanced around. A sort of chill crept over her. The room was bare
+and plain except a statue of the Virgin, and some candles and
+crucifixes. Nearly in the center stood a table with a book of devotions
+on it.
+
+"This is Jeanne Angelot," exclaimed Father Rameau. She, in her youth and
+health and beauty, coming out of the warm and glowing sunshine of May,
+brought with her an atmosphere and radiance that seemed like a sudden
+sunrise in the dingy apartment. The three women in the coif and gown of
+the Ursulines fingered their beads and, after sharp glances at the maid,
+dropped their eyes, and their faces fell into stolid lines.
+
+Another woman rose from the far corner and her gown made a swish on the
+bare floor. She came almost up to Jeanne, who shrank back in an
+inexplicable terror, a motion that brought a spasm of color to the
+newcomer's face, and a gasp for breath.
+
+She was, perhaps, a little above the medium height, slim alway and now
+very thin. Her eyes were sunken, with grayish shadows underneath, her
+cheeks had a hollow where fullness should have been, her lips were
+compressed in a nearly straight line. She was not old, but asceticism
+had robbed her of every indication of youth, had made severity the
+leading indication in her countenance.
+
+"Jeanne Angelot," she repeated. "You are quite sure, Father, those
+garments belonged to her?"
+
+The poor woman felt the secret antipathy and she, too, seemed to
+contract, to realize the mysterious distance between them, the
+unlikeness of which she had not dreamed. For in her narrow life of
+devotion she had endeavored to crucify all human feelings and
+affections. That was her bounden duty for her girlhood's sin. Girls were
+poor, weak creatures and their wills counseled them wrongly, wickedly.
+She had come to snatch this child, the result of her own selfish dreams,
+her waywardness, from a like fate. She should be housed, safe, kept from
+evil. The nun, too, had dreamed, although Berthê Campeau had said, "She
+is a wild little thing and it is suspected she has Indian blood in her
+veins." But it was the rescue of a soul to the service of God, the soul
+she was answerable for, not the ardor of human love.
+
+The father made a slow inclination of the head.
+
+"They were upon her that night she was dropped in the Pani's lap, and
+the card pinned to her. Then two letters curiously wrought upon her
+thigh."
+
+"Jeanne, Jeanne, I am your mother."
+
+It was the woman who was the suppliant, who felt a strange misgiving
+about this spirited girl with resolute eyes and poise of the head like a
+bird who would fly the next moment. And yet it was not the entreaty of
+starved and waiting love, that would have clasped arms about the slim,
+proud figure that stood almost defiant, suspicious, unbelieving.
+
+The others had heard the story and there was no surprise in their
+countenances.
+
+Jeanne seemed at first like a marble image. The color went out of her
+cheeks but her eyes were fixed steadfastly upon the woman, their blue so
+clear, so penetrating, that she shrank farther into herself, seemed
+thinner and more wan.
+
+"Your mother," and Father Rameau would fain have taken the girl's hand,
+but she suddenly clasped them behind her back. There was incredulity in
+the look, repulsion. What if there were some plot? She glanced at Father
+Gilbert but his cold eyes expressed only disapprobation.
+
+"My mother," she said slowly. "My mother has been dead years, and I owe
+love and gratitude to the Indian woman, Pani, who has cared for me with
+all fondness."
+
+"You do not as yet understand," interposed Father Rameau. "You have not
+heard the story."
+
+She had in her mind the splendid motherhood of Miladi as she had seen it
+in that beautiful island home.
+
+"A mother would not desert her child and leave it to the care of
+strangers, Indian enemies perhaps, and send a message that she was
+dead," was the proud reply.
+
+Jeanne Angelot's words cut like a knife. There was no sign of belief in
+her eyes, no dawning tenderness.
+
+The woman bowed her head over her clasped hands and swayed as if she
+would fall.
+
+"It is right," she answered in a voice that might have come from the
+grave. "It is part of my punishment. I had no right to bring this child
+into the world. Holy Mother, I accept, but let me snatch her soul from
+perdition!"
+
+Jeanne's face flamed scarlet. "I trust the good Father above," she
+declared with an accent of uplifted faith that irradiated her with
+serene strength. "Once in great peril he saved me. I will trust my cause
+to him and he will clear my way."
+
+"Thou ignorant child!" declared Father Gilbert. "Thou hast no human love
+in thy breast. There must be days and weeks of penance and discipline
+before thou art worthy even to touch this woman's hand. She is thy
+mother. None other hath any right to thee. Thou must be trained in
+obedience, in respect; thy pride and indifference must be cast out, evil
+spirits that they be. She hath suffered for thy sake; she must have
+amends when thou art in thy right mind. Thou wert given to the Church in
+Holy Baptism, and now she will reclaim thee."
+
+Jeanne turned like a stag at bay, proud, daring, defiant. It was some
+evil plot. Could a true mother lend herself to such a cruel scheme? Why
+was she not drawn to her, instead of experiencing this fear and
+repulsion? Would they keep her here, shut her up in a dark room as they
+had years ago, when she had kicked and screamed until Father Rameau had
+let her out to liberty and the glorious sunlight? Could she not make one
+wild dash now--
+
+There was a shuffling of steps in the hall and a glitter of trappings.
+The Commandant of the Fort stepped forward to the doorway and glanced
+in. The priests questioned with their eyes, the nuns turned aside.
+
+"We were told we should find Father Rameau here. There is some curious
+business. Ah, here is the girl herself, Mademoiselle Jeanne Angelot.
+There is a gentleman here desirous of meeting her, and has a strange
+story for her ear. Can we have a private room--"
+
+"Mademoiselle Jeanne Angelot is in the care of the Church and her
+mother, who has come to claim her;" was the emphatic reply.
+
+"Her mother!" The man beside the Commandant stepped forward. "Her mother
+is dead," he said, gravely.
+
+"The Sieur Gaston de la Touchê Angelot, better known by repute as the
+White Chief of the Island," announced the officer; and the guest bowed
+to them all.
+
+The woman fell on her knees and bowed her head to the floor. The man
+glanced about the small concourse. He was tall, nearer forty than
+thirty, of a fine presence, and, though bronzed by exposure, was
+handsome, and not only that, but noble as to face; the kind of man to
+compel admiration and respect, and with the air of authority that sways
+in an unquestioning manner. His eyes rested on the girl. The same proud
+bearing, though with virginal softness and pliability, the same large
+steady eyes, both with the wondering look as they rushed to each other's
+glance.
+
+"If the tale I have heard, or rather have pieced out from vague bits and
+suggestions, and the similarity of name be true, I think I have a right
+to claim this girl as my daughter, supposed dead for years. There were
+some trinkets found on her, and there were two initials wrought in her
+fair baby limb by my hand. Can I see these articles?"
+
+Then he crossed to the girl and studied her from head to foot, smiled
+with a little triumph, and faced the astonished group.
+
+"I have marked her with my eyes as well," he said with a smile. "Jeanne,
+do you not feel that the same blood flows through our veins? Does not
+some mysterious voice of nature assure you that I am your father, even
+before the proofs are brought to light? You must know--"
+
+Ah, did she not know! The voice spoke with no uncertain sound. Jeanne
+Angelot went to her father's arms.
+
+The little group were so astounded that no one spoke. The woman still
+knelt, nay, shriveled in a little heap.
+
+"She has fainted," and one of the sisters went to her, "Help, let us
+carry her into the next room."
+
+They bore her away. Father Gilbert turned fiercely to the Sieur Angelot.
+
+"There might be some question as to rights in the child," he said, in a
+clear, cold tone. "When did the Sieur repudiate his early marriage? He
+has on his island home a new wife and children."
+
+"Death ends the most sacred of all ties for this world. Coming to meet
+me the party were captured by a band of marauding Indians. Few escaped.
+Months afterward I had the account from one of the survivors. The
+child's preservation must have been a miracle. And that she has been
+here years--" he pressed her closer to his heart.
+
+"Monsieur Angelot, I think you will not need us in the untangling of
+this strange incident, but we shall be glad to hear its ending. I shall
+expect you to dine with me as by previous arrangement. I wish you might
+bring your pretty daughter."
+
+The Commandant bowed to the company and turned, attended by his suite.
+When their soldierly tread had ceased on the steps, Father Gilbert
+confronted the White Chief.
+
+"Your wife," he began in an authoritative tone, fixing his keen eyes on
+the Sieur Angelot, "your wife whom you tempted from her vows and
+unlawfully married is still alive. I think she can demand her child."
+
+Jeanne clung closer to her father and his inmost soul responded. But
+aloud he exclaimed in a horrified tone, "Good God!" Then in a moment,
+turning almost fiercely to the priest, "Why did she give away her child
+and let it be thought a foundling? For if the story is true she has been
+little better than a waif, a foundling of Detroit."
+
+"She was dying and intended to send it to you. She had to intrust it to
+a kind-hearted squaw. What happened then will never be known, until one
+evening it was dropped in the lap of this Pani woman who has been foster
+mother."
+
+"Is this so, Jeanne?" He raised the flushed face and looked into the
+eyes with a glance that would have been stern had it not been so full of
+love.
+
+"It is so," she made answer in a soft, clear voice. "She has been a
+mother to me and I love her. She is old and I will never be separated
+from her."
+
+"There spoke the loyal child. And now, reverend father, where is this
+wife? It is a serious complication. But if, as you say, I married her
+unlawfully--"
+
+"You enticed her from the convent." There was the severity of the judge
+in the tone.
+
+"_Parbleu!_ It did not need much enticing," and a half smile crossed his
+handsome face while his eyes softened. "We were both in love and she
+abhorred the monotony of convent life. We were of different faiths; that
+should have made me pause, but I thought then that love righted
+everything. I was of an adventurous turn and mightily stirred by the
+tales of the new world. Huguenot faith was not in favor in France, and I
+resolved to seek my fortunes elsewhere. She could not endure the
+parting. Yes, Father, since she had not taken any vow, not even begun
+her novitiate, I overpersuaded her. We were married in my faith. We came
+to this new world, and in Boston this child was born. We were still very
+happy. But I could not idle my life doing things befitting womankind. We
+came to Albany, and there I found some traders who told stirring tales
+of the great North and the fortunes made in the fur trade. My wife did
+oppose my going, but the enthusiasm of love, if I may call it so, had
+begun to wane. She had misgivings as to whether she had done right in
+marrying me--"
+
+"As a true daughter of the Church would," interrupted the priest
+severely.
+
+"I was willing that she should return to her own faith, which she did. I
+left her in good hands. Fortune favored me. I liked the stir and
+excitement, the out-of-door life, the glamour of adventures. I found men
+who were of the same cast of mind. To be sure, there were dangers, there
+was also the pleasure and gratification of leadership, of subduing
+savage natures. When I had resolved to settle in the North I sent to my
+wife by a messenger and received answer that since I thought it best she
+would come to me. I felt that she had no longing for the wild life, but
+I meant to do my utmost to satisfy her. There was her Church at St.
+Ignace, there were kindly priests, and some charming and heroic women.
+With my love to shield her I felt she must be happy. There was a company
+to leave Albany, enough it was thought to make traveling safe, for
+Indians were still troublesome. I made arrangements for her to join
+them, and was to meet them at Detroit. Alas! word came that, while they
+were still some distance from their point of embarkation on Lake Erie,
+they were set upon and massacred by a body of roving Indians. Instead of
+my beloved wife I met one of the survivors in Detroit and heard the
+terrible story. Not a woman in the party had escaped. The Indians had
+not burthened themselves with troublesome prisoners. I returned to
+Michilimackinac with a heart bowed down with grief. There was the
+comfortable home awaiting my wife, made as pretty as it had been
+possible to do. I could not endure it and joined some members of the
+company going to Hudson Bay. I made some fresh efforts to learn if
+anything further had been heard, but no word ever came. It is true that
+I married again. It does not seem possible that a once wedded wife
+should have lived all these years and made no effort to communicate with
+her husband, who, after all, could have been found. And though for years
+I have been known as the White Chief, from a curious power I have gained
+over the Indians, the hunters, and traders, I am also known as the Sieur
+Angelot."
+
+He stood proudly before them, his handsome, weather-bronzed face bearing
+the impress of truth, his eyes shining with the clearest, highest honor.
+The child Jeanne felt the stiffening of every muscle, and it went
+through her with a thrill of joy.
+
+"It is a long story," began Father Rameau, gently, "a strange one, too.
+Through the courage and craftiness of a Miami squaw, who had been a sort
+of maid to Madame Angelot, she escaped death. They hid in the woods and
+subsisted on anything they could find until Madame could go no farther.
+She thought herself dying, and implored the woman to take her babe to
+Detroit and find its father, and she lay down in a leafy covert to die.
+In that hour she repented bitterly of her course in leaving the convent
+and listening to a forbidden love. She prayed God to believe if it were
+to do over again she would hearken to the voice of the Church, and hoped
+this fervent repentance would be remembered in her behalf. Then she
+resigned herself to death. But in the providence of the good All Father
+she was rescued by another party and taken to a farmhouse not far
+distant. Here were two devoted women who were going to Montreal to enter
+the convent, and were to embark at a point on Lake Ontario, where a boat
+going North would touch. They nursed her for several weeks before she
+was able to travel, and then she decided to cast in her lot with them.
+Her husband, no doubt, had the child. She was dead to the world. She
+belonged henceforward to the Church and to the service of God. Moreover,
+it was what she desired. She had tried worldly love and her own will,
+and been unhappy in it. Monsieur, she was born for a devotee. It was a
+sad mistake when she yielded to your persuasions. Her parents had
+destined her for the convent, and she had a double debt to pay. The
+marriage was unlawful and she was absolved from it."
+
+"Then I was free also. It cannot bind on one side and loose on the
+other. I believe you have said rightly. She was not happy, though I
+think even now she will tell you that I did all in my power. I did not
+oppose her going back to her first faith, although then I would have
+fought against this disruption of the marriage tie."
+
+"It was no marriage in God's sight, with a heretic," interposed Father
+Gilbert. "She repented her waywardness bitterly. God made her to see it
+through sore trial. But the child is hers."
+
+"Not when you admit that she sent it to me, gave me the right," was the
+confident reply.
+
+He pressed Jeanne closer and with a strength that said, "I will fight
+for you." The proud dignity of his carriage, the resolution in his face,
+indicated that he would not be an easy enemy to combat. There was a
+strange silence, as if no one could tell what would be the next move. He
+broke it, however.
+
+"The child shall decide," he said. "She shall hear her mother's story,
+and then mine. She shall select with whom she will spend the coming
+years. God knows I should have been glad enough to have had her then. By
+what sad mistake fate should have traversed the mother's wishes, and
+given her these wasted years, I cannot divine."
+
+They were only to guess at that. The Miami woman had grown tired of her
+charge, so unlike the papooses of the Indian mothers. Then, too, it was
+heavy to carry, difficult to feed. She met a party of her own tribe and
+resolved to cast in her destiny with them. They were going into Ohio to
+meet some scattered members of their people, and to effect a union with
+other Indian nations, looking to the recovery of much of their power.
+She went up to Detroit in a canoe, and, taking the sleeping child,
+reconnoitered awhile; finally, seeing Pani sitting alone under a great
+tree, she dropped the child into her lap and ran swiftly away, feeling
+confident the father would in some way discover the little one, since
+her name was pinned to her clothing. Then she rowed rapidly back, her
+Indian ideas quite satisfied.
+
+"I wonder if I might see"--what should he call her?--"Jeanne's mother."
+
+Word came back that the nun was too much enfeebled to grant him an
+interview. But she would receive the child. Jeanne clung to her father
+and glanced up with entreating eyes.
+
+"I will wait for you. Yes, see her. Hear her story first." The child
+followed the sister reluctantly. Sieur Angelot, who had been standing,
+now took a seat.
+
+"I should like to see the trinkets you spoke of--and the clothes," he
+said with an air of authority.
+
+Father Rameau brought them. Father Gilbert and the sister retired to an
+adjoining room.
+
+"Yes," the Sieur remarked, "this is our miniature. It was done in
+Boston. And the ring was my gift to the child when she was a year old;
+it was much too big," and he smiled. "And the little garments. You are
+to be thanked most sincerely for keeping them so carefully. Tell me
+something about the life of the child."
+
+Father Rameau had been so intimately connected with it, that he was a
+most excellent narrator. The episode with the Bellestres and Monsieur's
+kindly care, the efforts to subdue in some measure the child's wildness
+and passion for liberty, which made the father smile, thinking of his
+own exuberant spirits and adventures, her affection for the Indian
+woman, her desultory training, that Father Rameau believed now had been
+a sinful mistake, her strange disappearance--
+
+"That gave me the clew," interrupted his hearer. "By some mysterious
+chain of events she was brought to her father's house. I was up North at
+the time, and only recently heard the story. The name Jeanne Angelot
+roused me. There could not be a mistake. Some miracle must have
+intervened to save the child. Then I came at once. But you think
+she--the mother--believes her marriage was a sin?" What if she still
+cared?
+
+The Sieur asked it with great hesitation. He thought of the proud,
+loving wife, the spirited, beautiful boys, the dainty little
+daughter--no, he could not relinquish them.
+
+"She is vowed to the Church now, and is at rest. Nothing you can say
+will disturb her. The good Bishop of Montreal absolved her from her
+wrongful vow. While we hold marriage as sacred and indissoluble, it has
+to be a true marriage and with the sanction of the Church. This had no
+priestly blessing or benediction. And she repented of it. For years she
+has been in the service of the Lord."
+
+He was glad to hear this. Down in his heart he knew how she had
+tormented her tender conscience with vain and rigorous questions and had
+made herself unhappy in pondering them. But he thought their new life
+together would neutralize this tendency and bring them closer in unison.
+Had she, indeed, made such a sad mistake in her feelings as to give him
+only an enthusiastic but temporary affection, when she was ready to
+throw up all the beliefs and the training of her youth? But then the
+convent round looked dreary to her.
+
+Jeanne came from the room where she had been listening to her mother's
+story of self-blame and present abhorrence for the step she had so
+unwisely taken in yielding to one who should have been nothing to her.
+
+"But you loved him then!" cried Jeanne, vehemently, thinking of the
+other woman whose joy and pride was centered in the Sieur Angelot.
+
+"It was a sinful fancy, a temptation of the evil one. I should have
+struggled against it. I should have resigned myself to the life laid out
+for me. A man's love is a delusion. Oh, my child, there is nothing like
+the continual service of God to keep one from evil. The joys of the
+world are but as dust and ashes, nay, worse, they leave an ineradicable
+stain that not even prayer and penance can wash out. And this is why I
+have come to warn, to reclaim you, if possible. When I heard the story
+from a devoted young sister, whose name in the world was Berthê Campeau,
+I said I must go and snatch the soul of my child from the shadow of
+perdition that hangs over her."
+
+Berthê Campeau! How strange it was that the other mother, nearing the
+end of life, should have plead with her child to stay a little longer in
+the world and wait until she was gone before she buried herself in
+convent walls!
+
+Was it a happy life, even a life of resignation, that had left such
+lines in her mother's face? She was hardly in the prime of life, but
+she looked old already. Instead of being drawn to sympathize with her,
+Jeanne was repelled. Her mother did not want her for solace and human
+love and sympathy, but simply to keep her from evil. Was affection such
+a sin? She could love her father, yes, she could love M. St. Armand; and
+the Indian woman with her superstitions, her ignorance, was very, very
+dear. And she liked brightness, happy faces, the wide out-of-doors with
+its birds' songs, its waving trees, its fragrant breathing from shrub
+and flower that filled one with joy. Pani kissed her and clasped her to
+her heart, held her in her arms, smoothed the tangled curls, sometimes
+kissed them, too, caressed her soft, dainty hands as if they were
+another human being. This woman was her mother, but there was no
+passionate longing in her eyes, no tender possessing grasp in the hands
+that lay limp and colorless on her black gown. And Jeanne would have
+been still more horrified if she had known that those eyes looked upon
+her as part of a sinful life she had overcome by nights of vigil and
+days of solitude in work and prayer that she had once abhorred and fled
+from. Yet she pitied her profoundly. She longed to comfort her, but the
+nun did not want the comfort of human love.
+
+"No, I cannot decide," Jeanne cried, and yet she knew in her soul she
+had decided.
+
+She came out to her father with tears in her eyes, but the shelter of
+his arms was so strong and safe.
+
+"Reverend fathers," the Sieur Angelot said, with a grave inclination of
+the head, "I thank you for your patience and courtesy. I can appreciate
+your feelings, too, but I think the law will uphold me in my claim to my
+daughter. And in my estimation Jeanne de Burre committed no sin in
+marrying me, and I would ever have been a faithful husband to her. But
+the decision of the Church seems most in consonance with her feelings. I
+have the honor of wishing you good day."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX.
+
+THE HEART OF LOVE.
+
+
+"And now," began the Sieur Angelot, when they were out in the sunshine,
+the choicest blessing of God, and had left the bare, gloomy room behind
+them, "and now, _petite_ Jeanne, let us find thy Indian mother."
+
+Was there a prouder or happier girl in all Old Detroit than Jeanne
+Angelot? The narrow, crooked streets with their mean houses were
+glorified to her shining eyes, the crowded stores and shops, some of
+them with unfragrant wares, and the motley crowd running to and fro,
+dodging, turning aside, staring at this tall, imposing man, with his
+grand, free air and his soldierly tread, a stranger, with Jeanne Angelot
+hanging on his arm in all the bloom and radiance of girlhood. Several
+knew and bowed with deference.
+
+M. Fleury came out of his warehouse.
+
+"Mam'selle Jeanne, allow me to present my most hearty and sincere
+congratulations. M. St. Armand insisted if the truth could be evolved it
+would be found that you belonged to gentle people and were of good
+birth. And we are all glad it is so. I had the honor of being presented
+to your father this morning;" and he bowed with respect. "Mademoiselle,
+I have news that will give thee greatest joy, unless thou hast forgotten
+old friends in the delight of the new. The 'Adventure' is expected in
+any time to-day, and M. St. Armand is a passenger. I beg your father to
+come and dine with him this evening, and if thou wilt not mind old
+graybeards, we shall be delighted with thy company. There will be my
+daughter to keep thee in countenance."
+
+"M. St. Armand!" Jeanne's face was in an exquisite glow and her voice
+shook a little. Her father gave a surprised glance from one to the
+other.
+
+M. Fleury laughed softly and rubbed his hands together, his eyes shining
+with satisfaction.
+
+"Ah, Monsieur," he exclaimed, "thou wilt be surprised at the friends
+Mam'selle Jeanne has in Old Detroit. I may look for thee at five this
+evening?"
+
+They both promised.
+
+Then Jeanne began to tell her story eagerly. The day the flag was
+raised, the after time when she had seen the brave General Wayne, the
+interest that M. St. Armand had taken in having her educated, and how
+she had struggled against her wild tendencies, her passionate love of
+freedom and the woods, the birds, the denizens of the forests. They
+turned in and out, the soldiers at the Citadel saluted, and here was
+Pani on the doorstep.
+
+"Oh, little one! It seemed as if thou wert gone forever!"
+
+Jeanne hugged her foster mother in a transport of joy and affection.
+What if Pani had not cared for her all these years? There were some
+orphan children in the town bound out for servants. To be sure, there
+had been M. Bellestre.
+
+Pani did not receive the Sieur Angelot very graciously. Jeanne tried to
+explain the wonderful things that had happened, but Pani's age and her
+limited understanding made it a hard task. "Thy mother was dead long
+ago," she kept saying. "And they will take thee away, little one--"
+
+"Then they will take you, too, Pani; I shall never leave you. I love
+you. For years there was no one else to love. And how could I be
+ungrateful?"
+
+She looked so charming in her eagerness that her father bent over and
+kissed her. If her mother had been thus faithful!
+
+"I shall never leave Detroit, little one. You may take up a sapling and
+transplant it, but the old tree, never! It dies. The new soil is
+strange, unfriendly."
+
+"Do not tease her," said her father in a low tone. "It is all strange to
+her, and she does not understand. Try to get her to tell her story of
+the night you came."
+
+At first Pani was very wary with true Indian suspicion. The Sieur
+Angelot had much experience with these children of the forests and
+wilderness. He understood their limited power of expansion, their
+suspicions of anything outside of their own knowledge. But he led her on
+skillfully, and his voice had the rare quality of persuasion, of
+inducing confidence. In her French _patois_, with now and then an Indian
+word, she began to live over those early years with the unstudied
+eloquence of real love.
+
+"Touchas is dead," interposed Jeanne. "But there is Wenonah, and, oh,
+there is all the country outside, the pretty farms, the houses that are
+not so crowded. In the spring many of them are whitewashed, and the
+trees are in bloom, and the roses everywhere, and the birds singing--"
+
+She paused suddenly and flushed, remembering the lovely island home with
+all its beauty.
+
+He laughed with a pleasant sound.
+
+"I should think there would need to be an outside. I hardly see how one
+can get his breath in the crowded streets," he answered.
+
+"But there is all the beautiful river, and the air comes sweeping down
+from the hills. And the canoeing. Oh, it is not to be despised," she
+insisted.
+
+"I shall cherish it because it has cherished thee. And now I must say
+adieu for awhile. I am to talk over some matters with your officers, and
+then--" there was the meeting with his wife. "And at five I will come
+again. Child, thou art rarely sweet; much too sweet for convent walls."
+
+"Is it unkind in me? I cannot make her seem my mother. Oh, I should love
+her, pity her!"
+
+There were tears in Jeanne's eyes, and her breath came with a great,
+sorrowful throb.
+
+"We will talk of all that to-morrow."
+
+"Thou wilt not go?" Pani gave her a frightened, longing look, as if she
+expected her to follow her father.
+
+"Oh, not now. It is all so wonderful, Pani, like some of the books I
+have read at the minister's. And M. St. Armand has come back, or will
+when the boat is in. Oh, what a pity to be no longer a child! A year ago
+I would have run down to the wharf, and now--"
+
+Her face was scarlet at the thought. What made this great difference,
+this sense of reticence, of waiting for another to make some sign? The
+frank trust was gone; no, it was not that,--she was overflowing with
+trust to-day. All the world was loveliness and love. But it must come to
+her; she could not run out to it. There was one black shadow; and then
+she shivered.
+
+She told Pani the story of the morning.
+
+The Indian woman shook her head. "She is not a true mother. She could
+not have left thee."
+
+"But she thought she was dying. And if I had died there in the woods!
+Oh, Pani, I am so glad to live! It is such a joy that it quivers in me
+from head to foot. I am like my father."
+
+She laughed for very gladness. Her mercurial temperament was born of the
+sun and wind, the dancing waters and singing birds.
+
+"He will take thee away," moaned the woman like an autumnal blast.
+
+"I will not go, then," defiantly.
+
+"But fathers do as they like, little one."
+
+"He will be good to me. I shall never leave you, _never_."
+
+She knelt before Pani and clasped the bony hands, looked up earnestly
+into the faded eyes where the keen lights of only a few years ago were
+dulling, and she said again solemnly, "I will never leave you."
+
+For she recalled the strange change of mood when she had repeated her
+full name to Miladi of the island. She was her father's true wife now,
+and though Jeanne could not comprehend the intricacies of the case, she
+could see that her father's real happiness lay in this second marriage.
+It took an effort not to blame her own mother for giving him up. That
+handsome woman glowing with life in every pulse, ready to dare any
+danger with him, proud of her motherhood, and, oh, most proud of her
+husband, making his home a temple of bliss, was his true mate. But
+though Jeanne could not have explained jealousy, she felt Miladi would
+not love her for being the Sieur Angelot's daughter. It would be better
+for her to remain here with Pani.
+
+The Sieur had a deeper gravity in his face when he returned to the
+cottage.
+
+The interview with Sister Veronica had been painful to both, yet there
+was the profounder pity on Angelot's side. For even before her husband
+had gone to the North she had begun to question the religious aspect of
+her marriage. If it was unholy, then she had no right to live in sin.
+And during almost two years' absence her morbid faith had grown
+stronger. She would go to him and ask to be released. She would leave
+her child in her place to make amends for her sad mistake.
+
+Circumstances had brought about the same ending by different means. Her
+nurse and companion on her journey had strengthened her faith in her
+resolve. Arrived at Montreal she received still further confirmation of
+the righteousness of her course. She had been an unlawful wife. She had
+sinned in taking the marriage vow. It was no holy sacrament, and she
+could be absolved. So she began her novitiate and was presently received
+into the order. She fasted and prayed, she did penance in her convent
+cell, she prayed for the Sieur Angelot that he might be converted to the
+true faith. It was not as her husband, but as one might wrestle for any
+sinful soul. And that the child would be well brought up. She had known
+Berthê Campeau, sister Mary Constantia, a long while before she heard
+the story of the little girl who had come so mysteriously to Detroit,
+and who had been wild and perverse beyond anything. One day her name had
+been mentioned. Then she asked the Abbe to communicate with Father
+Rameau for particulars and had been answered. Here was a new work for
+her, to snatch this child from evil ways and bring her up safely in the
+care of the Church. She gained permission to go for her, and here again
+circumstances seemed to play at cross purposes.
+
+The Sieur Angelot understood in a little while that whatever love had
+inspired her that night she had besought him to rescue her from a life
+that looked hateful to her young eyes, the passion that influenced her
+then was utterly dead, abhorrent to her. Better, a thousand times
+better, that it should be so. He could not make that eager, impetuous
+girl, whose voice trembled with emotion, whose kisses answered his,
+whose soft arms clung to his neck, out of this pale, attenuated,
+bloodless woman. Perhaps it was heroic to give all to her Church. Even
+men had done this.
+
+"And thou art happy and satisfied in this calling, Mignonne," he half
+assumed, half inquired.
+
+Did the old term of endearment touch some chord that was not quite dead,
+after all? A faint flush brought a wavering heat to her face.
+
+"It is my choice. And if I can have my child to train, to keep from
+evil--" her voice trembled.
+
+He shook his head. "Nay, I cannot have her bright young life thrust into
+the shadow for which she has no taste. She would pine and die."
+
+"I thought so once. I should have died sooner in the other life. It is
+God and his holy Son who give grace."
+
+"She will not forsake her duty to the one who has taken such kindly care
+of her, the Pani woman."
+
+"She can come, too. Give me my child, it is all I ask of you. Surely you
+do not need her."
+
+Her voice was roused to a certain intensity, her thin hands worked. But
+it seemed to him there was something almost cruel in the motion.
+
+"I cannot force her will. It is as she shall choose."
+
+And seeing Jeanne all eager interest in the doorway of the old cottage,
+he knew that she would never choose to shut herself out of the radiant
+sunlight.
+
+"Here is the old gift for you, my child;" and he clasped the chain with
+its little locket round her neck.
+
+Pani came and looked at it. "Yes, yes," she said. "It was on thy baby
+neck, little one. And there are the two letters--"
+
+"It was cruel to prick them in the soft baby flesh," the Sieur said,
+smilingly. "I wonder I had the courage. They alone would prove my right.
+And now there is no time to waste. Will you make ready--"
+
+"I am not often asked among the quality," and her face turned scarlet.
+"I have no fine attire. Wilt thou be ashamed of me?"
+
+She looked so radiant in her girlish beauty, that it seemed to him at
+the moment there was nothing more to desire. And the delicious archness
+in her tone captivated him anew. Consign her to convent walls--never!
+
+Mam'selle Fleury took charge of Jeanne at once and led her through the
+large hall to a side chamber. Not so long ago she was a gay, laughing
+girl, now she was a gravely sweet woman, nursing a sorrow.
+
+"It was a sudden summons," she explained. "And we could not expect to
+know just when the child grew into a maiden. Therefore you will not feel
+hurt, that I, having a wider experience, prepared for the occasion. Let
+me arrange your costume now. I had this frock when I was of your age,
+though I was hardly as slim. How much you are like your father, child!"
+
+"I think he was a little hurt that I had nothing to honor you with,"
+Jeanne said, simply.
+
+"Monsieur Loisel was saying that you needed a woman's hand, now that you
+were outgrowing childhood."
+
+She drew off Jeanne's plain gown; and though this was simple for the
+fashion of the day, it transformed the child into a woman. The long,
+pointed bodice, the square neck, with its bordering of handsome lace,
+showing the exquisite throat sloping into the shoulders and chest, the
+puffings that fell like waves about the hips and made ripples as they
+went down the skirt, the sleeves ending at the elbow with a fall of
+lace, and her hair caught up high and falling in a cascade of curls,
+tied with a great bow that looked like a butterfly, changed her so that
+she hardly knew herself.
+
+"O, Mam'selle, you have made me beautiful!" she cried, in delight. "I
+shall be glad to do you honor, and for the sake of M. St. Armand; but my
+father would love me in the plainest gown."
+
+Mam'selle smiled over her handiwork. But Jeanne's beauty was her own.
+
+She had grown many shades fairer during the winter, and had not rambled
+about so much nor been on the water so often. Her slim figure, in its
+virginal lines, was as lissome as the child's, but there was an
+exquisite roundness to every limb and it lent flexibility to her
+movements. A beautiful girl, Mademoiselle Fleury acknowledged to
+herself, and she wondered that no one beside M. St. Armand had seen the
+promise in her.
+
+The Sieur Angelot had been presented to the guest so lately returned
+from abroad.
+
+"I desire to thank you most heartily, Monsieur St. Armand," M. Angelot
+began, "for an unusual interest in my child that I did not know was
+living until a few weeks ago. She is most enthusiastic about you.
+Indeed, I have been almost jealous."
+
+St. Armand smiled, and bowed gracefully.
+
+"I believe I shall prove to you that I had a right, and, if my discovery
+holds good, we are of some distant kin. When I first heard her name a
+vague memory puzzled me, and when I went to France I resolved to search
+for a family link almost forgotten in the many turns there have been in
+the old families in my native land. Three generations ago a Gaston de la
+Touchê Angelot gave his life for his religious faith. Those were
+perilous times, and there was little chance for freedom of belief."
+
+"He was my grandfather," returned the Sieur Angelot gravely. "We have
+been Huguenots for generations. More than one has died for his faith."
+
+"And he was a cousin to my father. I am, as you see, in the generation
+before you. And I am glad fate or fortune, as you will, has brought
+about this meeting. When I learned this fact I said: 'As soon as I
+return to America I shall search out this little girl in Old Detroit and
+take her under my care. There will be no one to object, no one who will
+have a better right.' I am all curiosity to know how on your side you
+made the discovery."
+
+There was a rustle of silken trains in the hall. Madame Fleury entered
+in a stiff brocade and a sparkle of jewels, Mam'selle in a softer,
+though still elegant attire, and Jeanne, who stood amazed at the eyes
+bent upon her; even her father was mute from very surprise.
+
+"Oh, my sweet Jeanne," began M. St. Armand, smilingly, "thou hast
+strangely outgrown the little girl I used to know. Memory hath cheated
+me in the years. For the child that kept such a warm place in my heart
+hath grown into a woman, and not only that, but hath a new friend and
+will not need me."
+
+"Monsieur, no one with remembrance in her heart can so easily give up an
+old friend who made life brighter and happier for her, and who kindled
+the spark of ambition in her soul. I think even my father owes you a
+great debt. I might still have been a wild thing, haunting the woods and
+waters Indian fashion, and, as one might say, despising civilized life,"
+smiling with a bewitching air. "I thank you, Monsieur, for your interest
+in me. For it has given me a great deal of happiness, and no doubt saved
+me from some foolish mistakes."
+
+She had proffered him her dainty hand at the beginning of her speech,
+and now with a charming color she raised her eyes to her father. One
+could trace a decided likeness between them.
+
+"Monsieur St. Armand has done still more," subjoined her father. "He has
+taken pains while in France to hunt up bygone records, and found that
+the families are related. So you have not only a friend but a relative,
+and I surely will join you in gratitude."
+
+"I am most happy." She glanced smilingly from one to the other.
+Mam'selle Fleury watched her with surprise. The grace, ease, and
+presence of mind one could hardly have looked for. "It is in the blood,"
+she said to herself, and she wished, too, that she had made herself a
+friend of this enchanting girl.
+
+Then they moved toward the dining room. M. Fleury took in Jeanne as the
+honored guest, and seated her at his right. The Sieur Angelot was beside
+the hostess. The conversation in the nature of the startling incidents
+was largely personal and between the two men. Mam'selle Fleury was
+deeply interested in the adventures of the Sieur Angelot, detailed with
+spirit and vivacity. Jeanne's varying color and her evident pride in her
+father was delightful to witness. That he and this elegant St. Armand
+should have sprung from the same stock was easy to believe. While the
+gentlemen sat over their wine and cigars Mam'selle took Jeanne to the
+pretty sitting room that she had once visited with such awe. It was
+odorous with the evening dew on the vines outside and the peculiar
+fragrance of sweetbrier.
+
+"What an odd thing that you should have been carried off by Indians and
+taken to your father's house!" she began. "And this double
+marriage--though the Church had annulled your mother's. We have heard of
+the White Chief, but no one could have guessed you were his child. It is
+said--your mother desires you--" Mam'selle hesitated as if afraid to
+trench on secret matters, and not sure of the conclusion.
+
+"She wishes me to go into the convent. But I am not like Berthê Campeau.
+I should fret and be miserable like a wild beast in a cage. If she were
+ill and needed a nurse and affection, I should be drawn to her. And
+then, I am not of the same faith."
+
+"But--a mother--"
+
+"O Mam'selle, she doesn't seem like my mother. My father kissed me and
+held me in his arms at once and my whole heart went out to him. I feel
+strange and far away from her, and she thinks human love a snare to draw
+the soul from God. O Mam'selle, when he has made the world so beautiful
+with all the varying seasons, the singing birds and the blooms and the
+leaping waters that take on wonderful tints at sunrise and sunset, how
+could one be shut away from it all? There is so much to give thanks for
+in the wide, splendid world. It must be better to give them with a free,
+grateful heart."
+
+"I have had some sorrow, and once I looked toward convent peace with
+secret longing. But my mother and father said, 'Wait, we both shall need
+thee as we grow older.' There is much good to be done outside. And one
+can pray as I have learned. I cannot think human ties are easily to be
+cast aside when God's own hand has welded them."
+
+"And she sent me to my father. I feel that I belong to him;" Jeanne
+declared, proudly.
+
+"He is a man to be fond of, so gracious and noble. And his island home
+is said to be most beautiful."
+
+Jeanne gave an eloquent description of it and the two handsome boys with
+their splendid mother. Mam'selle wondered that there was no jealousy in
+her young heart. What a charming character she had! Why had not she
+taken her up as well, instead of feeling that M. St. Armand's interest
+was much misplaced? She might have won this sweet child's affection that
+had been lavished upon an old Indian woman. At times she had hungered
+for love. Her sister was away, happily married, with babies clinging to
+her knees, and the sufficiency of a gratified life.
+
+Jeanne was sitting upon a silken covered stool, her round arm daintily
+reclining on the other's knee. The elder bent over and kissed her on the
+forehead.
+
+"You belong to love's world," she said.
+
+Then the gentlemen entered. Mam'selle played on the harpsichord, and
+there was conversation until it was time to go.
+
+"You will come again," she exclaimed. "I shall want to see you, though I
+know what your decision will be, and I think it right. And now will you
+keep this gown as a little gift from me? You may want to go elsewhere.
+My mother and I will be happy to chaperon you."
+
+Jeanne looked up, wide-eyed and grateful. "Every one has always been so
+good to me," she rejoined. "Then I will not take it off. It will be such
+a pleasure to Pani. I never thought to look so lovely."
+
+Both gentlemen attended her home, and gave her a tender good night.
+
+Pleasant as the evening was Pani hovered over a handful of fire. Jeanne
+threw some fir twigs and broken pieces of birch bark on the coals, and
+the blaze set the room in a glow. "Look, Pani!" she cried, and then she
+went whirling round the room, her eyes shining, her rose red lips parted
+with a laugh.
+
+"It is a spirit." Pani shook her head and her eyes, distended, looked
+frightened in the gleam of the fire. "Little Jeanne has gone, has gone
+forever."
+
+Yes, little Jeanne had gone. She felt that herself. She was gay, eager,
+impetuous, but something new had stolen mysteriously over her.
+
+"Little Jeanne can never go away from you, Pani. Make room in your lap,
+so; now put your arms about me. Never mind the gown. Now, am I not your
+little one?"
+
+Pani laughed, the soft, broken croon of old age.
+
+"My little one come back," she kept repeating in a delighted tone,
+stroking the soft curls.
+
+The next morning M. St. Armand came for a long call. There was so much
+to talk over. He felt sorry for the poor mother, but he, too, objected
+strenuously to Jeanne being persuaded into convent life. He praised her
+for her perseverance in studying, for her improvement under limited
+conditions. Then he wondered a little about her future. If he could have
+the ordering of it!
+
+That afternoon Father Rameau came for her. A ship was to sail the next
+day for Montreal, and her mother would return in it. But when he looked
+in the child's eyes he knew the mother would go alone. Had he been
+derelict in duty and let this lamb wander from the fold? Father Gilbert
+blamed him. Even the mother had rebuked him sharply. Looking into the
+child's radiant face he understood that she had no vocation for a holy
+life. Was not the hand of God over all his children? There were strange
+mysteries no one could fathom. He uttered no word of persuasion, he
+could not. God would guide.
+
+To Jeanne it was an almost heart-breaking interview. Impassioned
+tenderness might have won, to lifelong regret, but it was duty, the
+salvation of her soul always uppermost.
+
+"Still I should not be with you," said Jeanne. "I should take up a
+strange life among strangers. We could not talk over the past, nor be
+the dearest of human beings to each other--"
+
+"That is the cross," interrupted the mother. "Sinful desires must be
+nailed to it."
+
+And all her warm, throbbing, eager life, her love for all human
+creatures, for all of God's works.
+
+Jeanne Angelot stood up very straight. Her laughing face grew almost
+severe.
+
+"I cannot do it. I belong to my father. You sent me to him once. I--I
+love him."
+
+The mother turned and left the room. At that instant she could not trust
+herself to say farewell.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX.
+
+THE LAST OF OLD DETROIT.
+
+
+The Sieur Angelot was gladly consulted on many points. The British still
+retained the command of the Grand Portage on Lake Superior, and the
+Ottawa river route to the upper country. By presents and subsidies they
+maintained an influence over the savages of the Northwest. The different
+Indian tribes, though they might have disputes with each other, were
+gradually being drawn together with the desire of once more sweeping the
+latest conquerors out of existence.
+
+The fur company endeavored to keep friendly with all, and the Indians
+were well aware that much of their support must be drawn from them. The
+new governor was expected shortly, and Detroit was to be his home.
+
+The Sieur Angelot advised better fortifications and a larger garrison.
+Many points were examined and found weak. The general government had
+been appealed to, but the country was poor and could hardly believe, in
+the face of all the treaties, there could be danger.
+
+There was also the outcome of the fur trade to be discussed with the
+merchants, and new arrangements were being made, for the Sieur was to
+return before long.
+
+Jeanne had spent a sorrowful time within her own soul, though she strove
+to be outwardly cheerful. June was upon them in all its glory and
+richness. Sunshine scattered golden rays and made a clarified atmosphere
+that dazzled. The river with rosy fogs in the morning, the quivering
+breath of noon when spirals of yellow light shot up, changing tints and
+pallors every moment, the softer purplish coloring as the sun began to
+drop behind the tree tops, illuminating the different shades of green
+and intensifying the birches until one could imagine them white-robed
+ghosts. The sails on the river, the rambles in the woods, were Jeanne's
+delight once more, and with so charming a companion as M. St. Armand,
+her cup seemed full of joy.
+
+At times the thought of her lonely mother haunted her. Yet what a dreary
+life it must be that had robbed her of every semblance of youth and set
+stern lines in her face, that had uprooted the sweetest human love! How
+could she have turned from the husband of her choice, and that husband
+so brave and tender a man as Sieur Angelot? For day by day it seemed to
+Jeanne that she found new graces and tenderness in him.
+
+Yet she knew she must pain him, too. Only for a brief while, perhaps.
+And--there was a curious hesitation about the new home.
+
+"Jeanne," he said one afternoon, when they, too, were lingering idly
+about the suburban part of the town, the gardens, the orchards, the long
+fields stretching back distantly, here and there a cottage, a nest of
+bloom. There were the stolid farmers working in their old-fashioned
+methods, there was a sound of strokes in the dusky woods where some men
+were chopping that brought faint, reverberating echoes, there was the
+humming of bees, the laughter of children. Little naked Indian babies
+ran about, the sun making the copper of their skins burnished, squaws
+sat with bead work, young fellows were playing games with smooth stones
+or throwing at a mark. French women had brought their wheels out under
+the shade of some tree, and were making a pleasant whir with the
+spinning.
+
+"Jeanne," he began again, "it is time for me to go up North. And I must
+take you, my daughter--" looking at her with questioning eyes.
+
+She raised her hand as if to entreat. A soft color wavered over her
+face, and then she glanced up with a gentle gravity.
+
+"Oh, my father, leave me here a little longer. I cannot go now;" and her
+voice was persuasively sweet.
+
+"Cannot--why?" There was insistence in his tone.
+
+"There is Pani--"
+
+"But we will take Pani. I would not think of leaving her behind."
+
+"She will not go. I have planned and talked. She is no longer strong. To
+tear her up by the roots would be cruel. And do you not see that all her
+life is wound about me? She has been the tenderest of mothers. I must
+give her back some of the care she has bestowed upon me. She has never
+been quite the same since I was taken away. She came near to dying then.
+Yes, you must leave me awhile."
+
+"Jeanne, my little one, I cannot permit this sacrifice;" and the
+tenderness in his eyes smote her.
+
+"Ah, you cannot imagine how I should pine for Detroit and for her. Then
+besides--"
+
+A warm color flooded her face; her eyes drooped.
+
+"My darling, can you not trust yourself to my love?"
+
+"There is another to share your love. Oh, believe me, I am not jealous
+that one so beautiful and worthy should stand in the place my mother
+contemned. She has the right."
+
+"Child, you have wondered how I found the clew to your existence. I have
+meant to tell you but there have been so many things intervening. Do you
+remember one night she asked your name, after having heard your story?
+She had listened to the other side more than once, and, piecing them
+together, she guessed--"
+
+Jeanne recalled the sudden change from delight to coldness. Ah, was this
+the key?
+
+"The boys were full of enthusiasm over the strange guest, whose eyes
+were like their father's. No suspicion struck me. Blue eyes are not so
+unusual, though they all have dark ones. Neither was it so strange that
+one should be captured by the Indians and escape. But I saw presently
+that something weighed heavily on the heart that had always been open as
+the day. Now and then she seemed on the point of some confession. I
+have large patience, Jeanne, and I waited, since I knew it had nothing
+to do with any lack of love towards me. And one night when her secret
+had pricked her sorely she told me her suspicions. My little child might
+be alive, might have escaped by some miracle; and she besought me with
+all eagerness to hasten to Detroit and find this Jeanne Angelot. She had
+been jealous and unhappy that there should be another claimant for my
+love, but then she was nobly sweet and generous and would give you a
+warm welcome. I sent her word by a boat going North, and now I have
+received another message. Women's hearts are strange things, child, but
+you need not be afraid to trust her, though the welcome will be more
+like that of a sister," and he smiled. "I am your rightful protector. I
+cannot leave you here alone."
+
+"Nothing would harm me," she made answer, proudly. "There are many
+friends. Detroit is dear to me. And for Pani's sake--oh, leave me here a
+little while longer. For I can see Pani grows weaker and day by day
+loses a little of her hold on life. Then there is Monsieur Loisel, who
+will guard me, and Monsieur Fleury and Madame, who are most kind. Yes,
+you will consent. After that I will come and be your most dutiful
+daughter. But, oh, think; I owe the Indian woman a child's service as
+well."
+
+Her lovely eyes turned full upon him with tenderest entreaty. He would
+be loth to reward any such devotion with ingratitude, and it would be
+that. Pani could not be taken from Detroit.
+
+"Jeanne, it wrings my heart to find you and then give you up even for a
+brief while. How can I?"
+
+"But you will," she said, and her arms were about his neck, her soft,
+warm cheek was pressed to his, and he could feel her heart beat against
+his. "It pains me, too, for see, I love you. I have a right to love you.
+I must make amends for the pang of the other defection. And you will
+tell _her_, yes. I think I ought to be sister to her. And there are the
+two charming boys and Angelique--she will let me love them. I will not
+take their love from her."
+
+He drew a long breath. "I know not how to consent, and yet I see that it
+would be the finest and loveliest duty. I honor you for desiring it. I
+must think and school myself," smiling sadly.
+
+He consulted M. St. Armand on the matter.
+
+"Give her into my guardianship for a while," that gentleman said. "It is
+noble in her to care for her foster mother to the last. I shall be in
+and out of Detroit, and the Fleurys will be most friendly. And look you,
+_mon cousin_, I have a proffer to make. I have a son, a young man whose
+career has been most honorable, who is worthy of any woman's love, and
+who so far has had no entanglements. If these two should meet again
+presently, and come to desire each other, nothing would give me greater
+happiness. He would be a son quite to your liking. Both would be of one
+faith. And to me, Jeanne would be the dearest of daughters."
+
+The Sieur Angelot wrung the hand of his relative.
+
+"It must be as the young people wish. And I would like to have her a
+little while to myself."
+
+"That is right, too. I could wish she were my daughter, only then my son
+might miss a great joy."
+
+So the matter was settled. M. and Madame Fleury would have opened their
+house to Jeanne and her charge, but it was best for them to remain where
+they were. Wenonah came in often and Margot was always ready to do a
+service.
+
+One day Jeanne went down to the wharf to see the vessel depart for the
+North. It was a magnificent June morning, with the river almost like
+glass and a gentle wind from the south. She watched the tall figure on
+the deck, waving his hand until the proud outline mingled with others
+and was indistinct--or was it the tears in her eyes?
+
+M. St. Armand had some business in Quebec, but would remain only a short
+time.
+
+It seemed strangely solitary to Jeanne after that, although there was no
+lack of friends. Everybody was ready to serve her, and the young men
+bowed with the utmost respect when they met her. She took Pani out for
+short walks, the favorite one to the great oak tree where Jeanne had
+begun her life in Detroit. Children played about, brown Indian babies,
+grave-faced even in their play, vivacious French little ones calling to
+each other in shrill _patois_, laughing and tumbling and climbing. Had
+she once been wild and merry like them? Then Pani would babble of the
+past and stroke the soft curls and call her "little one." What a curious
+dream life was!
+
+They were busy with the governor's house and the military squares and
+the old fort. The streets were cleared up a little. Houses had been
+painted and whitewashed. Stores and shops spread out their attractions,
+booths were flying gay colors and showing tempting eatables. All along
+the river was the stir of active life. People stayed later in the
+streets these warm evenings and sat on stoops chatting. Young men and
+maids planned pleasures and sails on the river and went to bed gay and
+light-hearted. Was there any place quite like Old Detroit?
+
+Early one morning while the last stars were lingering in the sky and the
+east was suffused with a faint pink haze, a scarlet spire shot up that
+was not sunrise. No one remarked it at first. Then a broad flash that
+might have been lightning but was not, and a cry on the still air
+startled the sleepers. "Fire! Fire!"
+
+Suddenly all was terror. There had been no rain in some time, and the
+inflammable buildings caught like so much tinder. From the end of St.
+Anne's street up and down it ran, the dense smoke sometimes hiding the
+flames. Like the eruption of a great crater the smoke rose thick, black,
+with here and there a tongue of flame that was frightful. The streets
+were so narrow and crowded, the appliances for fighting the terrible
+enemy so limited, that men soon gave up in despair. On and on it went
+devouring all within its reach.
+
+Shop keepers emptied their stores, hurried their stocks down to the
+wharf, and filled the boats. Furniture, century-old heirlooms, were
+tumbled frantically out of houses to some place of refuge as the fire
+swept on, carried farther and farther. Daylight and sunlight were alike
+obscured. Frantic people ran hither and thither, children were gathered
+in arms, and hurried without the palisades, which in many instances were
+burned away. And presently the inhabitants gave way to the wildest
+despair. It was a new and terrible experience. The whole town must go.
+
+Jeanne had been sleeping soundly, and in the first uproar listened like
+one dazed. Was it an Indian assault, such as her father had feared
+presently? Then the smoke rushed into every crack and crevice.
+
+"Oh, what is it, what is it?" she cried, flinging her door open wide.
+
+"Oh, Mam'selle," cried Margot, "the street is all aflame. Run! run!
+Antoine has taken the children."
+
+Already the streets were crowded. St. Anne's was a wall of fire. One
+could hardly see, and the roar of the flames was terrific, drowning the
+cries and shrieks.
+
+"Come, quick!" Margot caught her arm.
+
+"Pani! Pani!" She darted back into the house. "Pani," she cried, pulling
+at her. "Oh, wake, wake! We must fly. The town is burning up."
+
+"Little one," said Pani, "nothing shall harm thee."
+
+"Come!" Jeanne pulled her out with her strong young arms, and tried to
+slip a gown over the shaking figure that opposed her efforts.
+
+"I will not go," she cried. "I know, you want to take me away from dear
+old Detroit. I heard something the Sieur Angelot said. O Jeanne, the
+good Father in Heaven sent you back once. Do not go again--"
+
+"The street is all on fire. Oh, Margot, help me, or we shall be burned
+to death. Pani, dear, we must fly."
+
+"Where is Jeanne Angelot," exclaimed a sturdy voice. "Jeanne, if you do
+not escape now--see, the flames have struck the house."
+
+It was the tall, strong form of Pierre De Ber, and he caught her in his
+arms.
+
+"No, no! O Pierre, take Pani. She is dazed. I can follow. Cover her with
+a blanket, so," and Jeanne, having struggled away, threw the blanket
+about the woman. Pierre caught her up. "Come, follow behind me. Do not
+let go. O Jeanne, you must be saved."
+
+Pani was too surprised for any resistance. She was not a heavy burthen,
+and he took her up easily.
+
+"Hold to my arm. There is such a crowd. And the smoke is stifling. O
+Jeanne! if you should come to harm!" and almost he was tempted to drop
+the Indian woman, but he knew Jeanne would not leave her.
+
+"I am here. O Pierre, how good you are!" and the praise was like a
+draught of wine to him.
+
+The flames flashed hither and thither though there was little wind. But
+the close houses fed it, and in many places there were inflammable
+stores. Now and then an explosion of powder shot up in the air. Where
+one fancied one's self out of danger the fire came racing on swift
+wings.
+
+"There will be only the river left," said some one.
+
+The crowd grew more dense. Pierre felt that he could hardly get to the
+gate. Then men with axes and hatchets hewed down the palisades, and, he
+being near, made a tremendous effort, and pushed his way outside. There
+was still crowd enough, but they soon came to a freer space, and he laid
+his burthen down, standing over her that no one might tread on her.
+
+"O Jeanne, are you safe? Thank heaven!"
+
+Jeanne caught his hand and pressed it in both of hers.
+
+"If we could get to Wenonah!" she said.
+
+He picked up his burthen again, but it was very limp.
+
+"Open the blanket a little. I was afraid to have her see the flames.
+Yes, let us go on," said Jeanne, courageously.
+
+Men and women were wringing their hands; children were screaming. The
+flames crackled and roared, but out here the way was a little clearer.
+They forced a path and were soon beyond the worst heat and smoke.
+
+Wenonah's lodge was deserted. Pierre laid the poor body down, and Jeanne
+bent over and kissed the strangely passive face.
+
+"Oh, she is dead! My poor, dear Pani!"
+
+"I did my best," said Pierre, in a beseeching tone.
+
+"Oh, I know you did! Pierre, I should have gone crazy if I had left her
+there to be devoured by the flames. But I will try--"
+
+She bathed the face, she chafed the limp hands, she called her by every
+endearing name. Ah, what would he not have given for one such sweet
+little sentence!
+
+"Pierre--your own people," she cried. "See how selfish I have been to
+take you--"
+
+"They were started before I came. Father was with them. They were going
+up to the square, perhaps to the Fort. Oh, the town will all go. The
+flames are everywhere. What an awful thing! Jeanne, what can I do? O
+Jeanne, little one, do not weep."
+
+For now Jeanne had given way to sobs.
+
+There was a rushing sound in the doorway, and Wenonah stood there.
+
+"Oh," she exclaimed, "I tried to get into the town, but could not. Thank
+the good God that you are safe. And Pani--no, she is not dead, her heart
+beats slowly. I will get her restored."
+
+"And I will go for further news," said Pierre.
+
+Very slowly Pani seemed to come back to life. The crowd was pouring out
+to the fields and farms, and down and up the river. The flames were not
+satisfied until they had devoured nearly everything, but they had not
+gone up to the Fort. And now a breeze of wind began to dissipate the
+smoke, and one could see that Old Detroit was a pile of ashes and ruins.
+Very little was left,--a few buildings, some big stone chimneys, and
+heaps of iron merchandise.
+
+Pierre returned with the news. Pani was lying on the couch with her eyes
+partly open, breathing, but that was all.
+
+"People are half crazy, but I don't wonder at it," said Pierre. "The
+warehouses are piles of ashes. Poor father will have lost everything,
+but I am young and strong and can help him anew."
+
+"Thou art a good son, Pierre," exclaimed Wenonah.
+
+Many had been routed out without any breakfast, and now it was high
+noon. Children were clamoring for something to eat. The farmers spread
+food here and there on the grass and invited the hungry ones. Jacques
+Giradin, the chief baker in the town, had kneaded his bread and put it
+in the oven, then gone to help his neighbors. The bakery was one of the
+few buildings that had been miraculously spared. He drew out his
+bread--it had been well baked--and distributed it to the hungry, glad to
+have something in this hour of need.
+
+It was summer and warm, and the homeless dropped down on the grass, or
+in the military gardens, and passed a strange night. The next morning
+they saw how complete the destruction had been. Old Detroit, the dream
+of Cadillac and De Tonti, La Salle and Valliant, and many another hero,
+the town that had prospered and had known adversity, that had been
+beleaguered by Indian foes, that had planted the cross and the golden
+lilies of France, that had bowed to the conquering standard of England,
+and then again to the stars and stripes of Liberty, that had brimmed
+over with romance and heroism, and even love, lay in ashes.
+
+In a few days clearing began and tents and shanties were erected for
+temporary use. But poverty stared the brave citizens in the face.
+Fortunes had been consumed as well. Business was ruined for a time.
+
+Jeanne remained with Wenonah. Pani improved, but she had been feeble a
+long while and the shock proved too much for her. She did not seem to
+suffer but faded gently away, satisfied when Jeanne was beside her.
+
+Tony Beeson, quite outside of the fire, opened his house in his rough
+but hospitable fashion to his wife's people. Rose had not fared so well.
+Pierre was his father's right hand through the troublous times. Many of
+the well-to-do people were glad to accept shelter anywhere. The Fleurys
+had saved some of their most valuable belongings, but the house had gone
+at last.
+
+"Thou art among the most fortunate ones," M. Loisel said to Jeanne a
+week afterward, "for thy portion was not vested here in Detroit. I am
+very glad."
+
+It seemed to Jeanne that she cared very little for anything save the
+sorrows and sufferings of the great throng of people. She watched by
+Pani through the day and slept beside her at night. "Little one," the
+feeble voice would say, "little one," and the clasp of the hand seemed
+enough. So it passed on until one day the breath came slower and
+fainter, and the lips moved without any sound. Jeanne bent over and
+kissed them for a last farewell. Father Rameau had given her the sacred
+rites of the Church, and said over her the burial service. A faithful
+woman she had been, honest and true.
+
+And this was what Monsieur St. Armand found when he returned to Detroit,
+a grave girl instead of the laughing child, and an old town in ashes.
+
+"I have news for you, too," he said to Jeanne, "partly sorrowful, partly
+consoling as well. Two days after reaching her convent home, your mother
+passed quietly away, and was found in the morning by one of the sisters.
+The poor, anxious soul is at peace. I cannot believe God means one to be
+so troubled when a sin is forgiven, especially one that has been a
+mistake. So, little one, if thou hadst listened to her pleadings thou
+wouldst have been left in a strange land with no dear friend. It is best
+this way. The poor Indian woman was nearer a mother to thee."
+
+A curious peace about this matter filled Jeanne Angelot's soul. Her
+mother was at rest. Perhaps now she knew it was not sinful to be happy.
+And for her father's sake it was better. He could not help but think of
+the poor, lonely woman in her convent cell, expiating what she
+considered a sin.
+
+"When Laurent comes we will go up to your beautiful island," he said. "I
+have bidden him to join me here."
+
+Jeanne took Monsieur around to the old haunts: the beautiful woods, the
+stream running over the rocky hillside, the flowers in bloom that had
+been so fateful to her, the nooks and groves, the green where they put
+up the Maypole, and her brave old oak, with its great spreading
+branches and wide leaves, nodding a welcome always.
+
+One day they went down to the King's wharf to watch a vessel coming up
+the beautiful river. The sun made it a sea of molten gold to-day, the
+air was clear and exhilarating. But it was not a young fellow who leaped
+so joyously down on to the dock. A tall, handsome man, looking something
+like his own father, and something like hers, Jeanne thought, for his
+eyes were of such a deep blue.
+
+"There is no more Old Detroit. It lies in ashes," said M. St. Armand,
+when the first greetings were over. "A sorrowful sight, truly."
+
+"And no little girl." Laurent smiled with such a fascination that it
+brought the bright color to her face. "Mademoiselle, I have been
+thinking of you as the little girl whose advice I disdained and had a
+ducking for it. I did not look for a young lady. I do not wonder now
+that you have taken so much of my father's heart."
+
+"We can give you but poor accommodations; still it will not be for long,
+as we go up North to accept our cousin's hospitality. You will be
+delighted to meet the Sieur Angelot. The Fleury family will be glad to
+see you again, though they have no such luxuriant hospitality as
+before."
+
+They all went to the plain small shelter in which the Fleurys were
+thankful to be housed, and none the less glad to welcome their friends.
+They kept Jeanne to dinner, and would gladly have taken her as a guest.
+M. Loisel had offered her a home, but she preferred staying with
+Wenonah. Paspah had never come back from his quest. Whether he had met
+with some accident, or simply found wild life too fascinating to leave,
+no one ever knew. To Wenonah it was not very heart-breaking.
+
+"Oh, little one," she said at parting, "I shall miss thee sorely.
+Detroit will not be the same without thee."
+
+And then Jeanne Angelot went sailing up the beautiful lakes again, past
+shores in later summer bloom and beauty and islands that might be fairy
+haunts. They were enchanted bowers to her, but it was some time before
+she knew what had lent them such an exquisite charm.
+
+So she came home to her father's house and met with a warm welcome, a
+noisy welcome from two boys, who could not understand why she would not
+climb and jump, though she did run races with them, and they were always
+hanging to her.
+
+"And you turn red so queerly sometimes," said Gaston, much puzzled. "I
+can't tell which is the prettier, the red or the white. But the red
+seems for M. St. Armand."
+
+Loudac and the dame were overjoyed to see her again. The good dame shook
+her head knowingly.
+
+"The Sieur will not keep her long," she said.
+
+Old Detroit rose very slowly from its ashes. In August Governor Hull
+arrived and found no home awaiting him, but had to go some distance to a
+farm house for lodgings. He brought with him many eastern ideas. The old
+streets must be widened, the lanes straightened, the houses made more
+substantial. There was a great outcry against the improvements. Old
+Detroit had been good enough. It was the center of trade, it commanded
+the highway of commerce. And no one had any money to spend on foolery.
+
+But he persevered until he obtained a grant from Congress, and set to
+work rectifying wrongs that had crept in, reorganizing the courts, and
+revising property deeds. The old Fort was repaired, the barracks put in
+better shape, the garrison augmented.
+
+But the event the Sieur Angelot had feared and foreseen, came to pass.
+Many difficulties had arisen between England and the United States, and
+at last culminated in war again. This time the northern border was the
+greatest sufferer on land. The Indians were aroused to new fury, the
+different tribes joining under Tecumseh, resolved to recover their
+hunting grounds. The many terrible battles have made a famous page in
+history. General Hull surrendered Detroit to the British, and once more
+the flag of England waved in proud triumph.
+
+But it was of short duration. The magnificent victories on the lakes and
+Generals Harrison's and Winchester's successes on land, again changed
+the fate of the North. Once more the stars and stripes went up over
+Detroit, to remain for all time to come.
+
+But after that it was a new Detroit,--wide streets and handsome
+buildings growing year by year, but not all the old landmarks
+obliterated; and their memories are cherished in many a history and
+romance.
+
+Jeanne St. Armand, a happy young wife, with two fathers very fond of
+her, went back to Detroit after awhile. And sometimes she wondered if
+she had really been the little girl to whom all these things had
+happened.
+
+When Louis Marsac heard the White Chief had found his daughter and given
+her to Laurent St. Armand, he ground his teeth in impotent anger. But
+for the proud, fiery, handsome Indian wife of whom he felt secretly
+afraid, he might have gained the prize, he thought. She was
+extravagantly fond of him, and he prospered in many things, but he
+envied the Sieur Angelot his standing and his power, though he could
+never have attained either.
+
+Pierre De Ber was a good son and a great assistance to his father in
+recovering their fortunes. After awhile he married, largely to please
+his mother, but he made an excellent husband. He knew why Jeanne Angelot
+could never have been more than a friend to him. But of his children he
+loved little Jeanne the best, and Madame St. Armand was one of her
+godmothers, when she was christened in the beautiful new church of St.
+Anne, which had experienced almost as varying fortunes as the town
+itself.
+
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Notes:
+
+   Obvious punctuation errors were corrected.
+
+   Page 4, "loops" changed to "loups". (the _shil loups_)
+
+   Page 55, "Pere" changed to "Père". (And Père Rameau)
+
+   Page 56, "Longeuils" changed to "Longueils". (even the De Longueils)
+
+   Page 60, "considere dquite" changed to "considered quite".
+
+   Page 78, "mattter" changed to "matter". (for that matter)
+
+   Page 270, "inquiried" changed to "inquired". (she inquired)
+
+   Page 276, "he" changed to "She". (here. She bought)
+
+   Page 315, "om" changed to "from". (from vague bits)
+
+   Page 336, "beanty" changed to "beauty". (beauty was her)
+
+
+
+***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD DETROIT***
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+<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of A Little Girl in Old Detroit, by Amanda Minnie Douglas</title>
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+<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, A Little Girl in Old Detroit, by Amanda
+Minnie Douglas</h1>
+<pre>
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre>
+<p>Title: A Little Girl in Old Detroit</p>
+<p>Author: Amanda Minnie Douglas</p>
+<p>Release Date: March 1, 2007  [eBook #20721]</p>
+<p>Language: English</p>
+<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p>
+<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD DETROIT***</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<h3>E-text prepared by Barbara Tozier, Bill Tozier, Emmy,<br />
+    and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br />
+    (http://www.pgdp.net/c/)</h3>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<hr class="full" />
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="Front matter">
+<tr><td align='left'><img src="images/cover.jpg" width="254" height="400" alt="Cover" title="Cover" />
+</td><td align='left'><div class='center'>
+<table border="1" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="Title Page">
+<tr><td align='center'><h1>A LITTLE GIRL<br />IN OLD DETROIT</h1></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='center'><h2>By AMANDA M. DOUGLAS</h2><br /><br /><br /><br />
+<img src="images/title.png" width="77" height="100" alt="Title page" title="Title page" /><br /><br /></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='center'>A. L. BURT COMPANY<br /><span class="smcap">Publishers</span>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; <span class="smcap">New York</span></td></tr>
+</table></div></td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class='center'><small>Copyright, 1902,</small><br />
+
+<small><span class="smcap">By Dodd, Mead &amp; Company.</span></small></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 25%;' />
+
+<div class='center'><i><small>First Edition Published September, 1902.</small></i></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class='center'><span class="smcap">to</span><br />
+<br />
+<span class="smcap">Mr. and Mrs. Wallace R. Lesser</span></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 25%;' />
+
+<div class='div2'><p>Time and space may divide and years bring changes, but remembrance is
+both dawn and evening and holds in its clasp the whole day.</p>
+
+<p><small><span class="smcap">A. M. D., Newark, N. J.</span></small></p></div>
+
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>CONTENTS</h2>
+
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="Contents">
+<tr><td align='left' colspan='2'><span class="smcap">chapter</span></td><td align='right'><span class="smcap">page</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>I.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">A Half Story</span>,</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_1'>1</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>II.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Raising the New Flag</span>,</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_16'>16</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>III.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">On the River</span>,</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_33'>33</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>IV.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Jeanne's Hero</span>,</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_50'>50</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>V.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">An Unknown Quantity</span>,</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_65'>65</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>VI.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">In Which Jeanne Bows Her Head</span>,</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_82'>82</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>VII.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Lovers and Lovers</span>,</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_102'>102</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>VIII.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">A Touch of Friendship</span>,</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_121'>121</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>IX.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Christmas and a Confession</span>,</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_139'>139</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>X.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Bloom of the May</span>,</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_157'>157</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>XI.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Love, Like the Rose, is Briery</span>,</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_176'>176</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>XII.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Pierre</span>,</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_194'>194</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>XIII.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">An Unwelcome Lover</span>,</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_209'>209</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>XIV.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">A Hidden Foe</span>,</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_228'>228</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>XV.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">A Prisoner</span>,</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_243'>243</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>XVI.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Rescued</span>,</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_265'>265</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>XVII.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">A P&aelig;an of Gladness</span>,</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_289'>289</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>XVIII.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">A Heartache for Some One</span>,</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_307'>307</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>XIX.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Heart of Love</span>,</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_327'>327</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>XX.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Last of Old Detroit</span>,</td><td align='right'><a href='#Page_344'>344</a></td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD DETROIT.</h2>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>CHAPTER I.</h2>
+
+<h3>A HALF STORY.</h3>
+
+
+<p>When La Motte Cadillac first sailed up the Strait of Detroit he kept his
+impressions for after travelers and historians, by transcribing them in
+his journal. It was not only the romantic side, but the usefulness of
+the position that appealed to him, commanding the trade from Canada to
+the Lakes, "and a door by which we can go in and out to trade with all
+our allies." The magnificent scenery charmed the intrepid explorer. The
+living crystal waters of the lakes, the shores green with almost
+tropical profusion, the natural orchards bending their branches with
+fruit, albeit in a wild state, the bloom, the riotous, clinging vines
+trailing about, the great forests dense and dark with kingly trees where
+birds broke the silence with songs and chatter, and game of all kinds
+found a home; the rivers, sparkling with fish and thronged with swans
+and wild fowl, and blooms of a thousand kinds, made marvelous pictures.
+The Indian had roamed undisturbed, and built his temporary wigwam in
+some opening, and on moving away left the place again to solitude.</p>
+
+<p>Beside its beauty was the prospect of its becom<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span>ing a mart of commerce.
+But these old discoverers had much enthusiasm, if great ignorance of
+individual liberty for anyone except the chief rulers. There was a
+vigorous system of repression by both the King of France and the Church
+which hampered real advance. The brave men who fought Indians, who
+struggled against adverse fortunes, who explored the Mississippi valley
+and planted the nucleus of towns, died one after another. More than half
+a century later the English, holding the substantial theory of
+colonization, that a wider liberty was the true soil in which
+advancement progressed, after the conquest of Canada, opened the lake
+country to newcomers and abolished the restrictions the Jesuits and the
+king had laid upon religion.</p>
+
+<p>The old fort at Detroit, all the lake country being ceded, the French
+relinquishing the magnificent territory that had cost them so much in
+precious lives already, took on new life. True, the French protested,
+and many of them went to the West and made new settlements. The most
+primitive methods were still in vogue. Canoes and row boats were the
+methods of transportation for the fur trade; there had been no printing
+press in all New France; the people had followed the Indian expedients
+in most matters of household supplies. For years there were abortive
+plots and struggles to recover the country, affiliation with the Indians
+by both parties, the Pontiac war and numerous smaller skirmishes.</p>
+
+<p>And toward the end of the century began the greatest struggle for
+liberty America had yet seen. After the war of the Revolution was ended
+all the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span> country south of the Lakes was ceded to the United Colonies.
+But for some years England seemed disposed to hold on to Detroit,
+disbelieving the colonies could ever establish a stable government. As
+the French had supposed they could reconquer, so the English looked
+forward to repossession. But Detroit was still largely a French town or
+settlement, for thus far it had been a military post of importance.</p>
+
+<p>So it might justly be called old this afternoon, as almost two centuries
+had elapsed since the French had built their huts and made a point for
+the fur trade, that Jeanne Angelot sat outside the palisade, leaning
+against the Pani woman who for years had been a slave, from where she
+did not know herself, except that she had been a child up in the fur
+country. Madame De Longueil had gone back to France with her family and
+left the Indian woman to shift for herself in freedom. And then had come
+a new charge.</p>
+
+<p>The morals of that day were not over-precise. But though the woman had
+had a husband and two sons, one boy had died in childhood, the other had
+been taken away by the husband who repudiated her. She was the more
+ready to mother this child dropped mysteriously into her lap one day by
+an Indian woman whose tongue she did not understand.</p>
+
+<p>"Tell it over again," said Jeanne with an air of authority, a dainty
+imperiousness.</p>
+
+<p>She was leaning against one knee, the woman's heels being drawn up close
+to her body, making a back to the seat of soft turf, and with her small
+hand<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span> thumping the woman's brown one against the other knee.</p>
+
+<p>"Mam'selle, you have heard it so many times you could tell it yourself
+in the dark."</p>
+
+<p>"But perhaps I could not tell it in the daylight," said the girl, with
+mischievous laughter that sent musical ripples on the sunny air.</p>
+
+<p>The woman looked amazed.</p>
+
+<p>"Why should you be better able to do it at night?"</p>
+
+<p>"O, you foolish Pani! Why, I might summon the <i>itabolays</i>&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Hush! hush! Do not call upon such things."</p>
+
+<p>"And the <i>shil <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'loops'">loups</ins></i>, though they cannot talk. And the <i>windigoes</i>&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Mam'selle!" The Indian woman made as if she would rise in anger and
+crossed herself.</p>
+
+<p>"O, Pani, tell the story. Why, it was night you always say. And so I
+ought to have some night-sight or knowledge. And you were feeling lonely
+and miserable, and&mdash;why, how do you know it was not a <i>windigo?</i>"</p>
+
+<p>"Child! child! you set one crazy! It was flesh and blood, a squaw with a
+blanket about her and a great bundle in her arms. And I did not go in
+the palisade that night. I had come to love Madame and the children, and
+it was hard to be shoved out homeless, and with no one to care. There is
+fondness in the Indian blood, Mam'selle."</p>
+
+<p>The Indian's voice grew forceful and held a certain dignity. The child
+patted her hand and pressed it up to her cheek with a caressing touch.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"The De Bers wanted to buy me, but Madame said no. And Touchas, the
+Outawa woman, had bidden me to her wigwam. I heard the bell ring and the
+gates close, and I sat down under this very oak&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, this is <i>my</i> tree!" interrupted the girl proudly.</p>
+
+<p>"I thought it some poor soul who had lost her brave, and she came close
+up to me, so close I heard the beads and shells on her leggings shake
+with soft sound. But I could not understand what she said. And when I
+would have risen she pushed me back with her knee and dropped something
+heavy in my lap. I screamed, for I knew not what manner of evil spirit
+it might be. But she pressed it down with her two hands, and the child
+woke and cried, and reaching up flung its arms around my neck, while the
+woman flitted swiftly away. And I tried to hush the sobbing little
+thing, who almost strangled me with her soft arms."</p>
+
+<p>"O Pani!" The girl sprang up and encircled her again.</p>
+
+<p>"I felt bewitched. I did not know what to do, but the poor, trembling
+little thing was alive, though I did not know whether you were human or
+not, for there are strange shapes that come in the night, and when once
+they fasten on you&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"They never let go," Jeanne laughed gayly. "And I shall never let go of
+you, Pani. If I had money I should buy you. Or if I were a man I would
+get the priest to marry us."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"O Mam'selle, that is sinful! An old woman like me! And no one can be
+bought to-day."</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne gave her another hug. "And you sat here and held me&mdash;" forwarding
+the story.</p>
+
+<p>"I did not dare stir. It grew darker and all the air was sweet with
+falling dews and the river fragrance, and the leaves rustled together,
+the stars came out for there was no moon to check them. On the Beaufeit
+farm they were having a dance. Susanne Beaufeit had been married that
+noon in St. Anne. The sound of the fiddles came down like strange voices
+from out the woods and I was that frightened&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Poor Pani!" caressing the hand tenderly.</p>
+
+<p>"Then you stopped sobbing but you had tight hold of my neck. Suddenly I
+gathered you up and ran with all my might to Touchas' hut. The curtain
+was up and the fire was burning, and I had grown stiff with cold and
+just stumbled on the floor, laying you down. Touchas was so amazed.</p>
+
+<p>"'Whose child is that?' she said. 'Why, your eyes are like moons. Have
+you seen some evil thing?'"</p>
+
+<p>"And you thought me an evil thing, Pani!" said the child reproachfully.</p>
+
+<p>"One never can tell. There are strange things," and the woman shook her
+head. "And Touchas was so queer she would not touch you at first. I
+unrolled the torn piece of blanket and there you were, a pretty little
+child with rings of shining black hair, and fair like French babies, but
+not white like<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span> the English. And there was no sign of Indian about you.
+But you slept and slept. Then we undressed you. There was a name pinned
+to your clothes, and a locket and chain about your neck and a tiny ring
+on one finger. And on your thigh were two letters, 'J. A.,' which meant
+Jeanne Angelot, Father Rameau said. And oh, Mam'selle, <i>petite fille</i>,
+you slept in my arms all night and in the morning you were as hungry as
+some wild thing. At first you cried a little for <i>maman</i> and then you
+laughed with the children. For Touchas' boys were not grown-up men then,
+and White Fawn had not met her brave who took her up to St. Ignace."</p>
+
+<p>"I might have dropped from the clouds," said the child mirthfully. "The
+Great Manitou could have sent me to you."</p>
+
+<p>"But you talked French. Up in the above they will speak in Latin as the
+good fathers do. That is why they use it in their prayers."</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne nodded with a curl of disbelief in her red-rose mouth.</p>
+
+<p>"So then Touchas and I took you to Father Rameau and I told him the
+story. He has the clothes and the paper and the locket, which has two
+faces in it&mdash;we all thought they were your parents. The letters on it
+are all mixed up and no one can seem to make them out. And the ring. He
+thought some one would come to inquire. A party went out scouting, but
+they could find no trace of any encampment or any skirmish where there
+was likely to be some one killed, and they never found any trace.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span> The
+English Commandant was here then and Madame was interested in you.
+Madame Bellestre would have you baptized in the old church to make sure,
+and because you were French she bade me bring you there and care for
+you. But she had to die and M. Bellestre had large interests in that
+wonderful Southern town, New Orleans, where it is said oranges and figs
+and strange things grow all the year round. Mademoiselle Bellestre was
+jealous, too, she did not like her father to make much of you. So he
+gave me the little house where we have lived ever since and twice he has
+sent by some traders to inquire about you, and it is he who sees that we
+want for nothing. Only you know the good priest advises that you should
+go in a retreat and become a sister."</p>
+
+<p>"But I never shall, never!" with emphasis, as she suddenly sprang up.
+"To be praying all day in some dark little hole and sleep on a hard bed
+and count beads, and wear that ugly black gown! No, I told Father Rameau
+if anyone shut me up I should shout and cry and howl like a panther! And
+I would bang my head against the stones until it split open and let out
+my life."</p>
+
+<p>"O Jeanne! Jeanne!" cried the horror-stricken woman. "That is wicked,
+and the good God hears you."</p>
+
+<p>The girl's cheeks were scarlet and her eyes flashed like points of
+flame. They were not black, but of the darkest blue, with strange,
+steely lights in them that flashed and sparkled when she was roused in
+temper, which was often.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I think I will be English, or else like these new colonists that are
+taking possession of everything. I like their religion. You don't have
+to go in a convent and pray continually and be shut out of all beautiful
+things!"</p>
+
+<p>"You are very naughty, Mam'selle. These English have spoiled so many
+people. There is but one God. And the good French fathers know what is
+right."</p>
+
+<p>"We did well enough before the French people came, Pani," said a soft,
+rather guttural voice from the handsome half-breed stretched out lazily
+on the other side of the tree where the western sunshine could fall on
+him.</p>
+
+<p>"You were not here," replied the woman, shortly. "And the French have
+been good to me. Their religion saves you from torment and teaches you
+to be brave. And it takes women to the happy grounds beyond the sky."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, they learned much of their bravery from the Indian, who can suffer
+tortures without a groan or a line of pain in the face. Is there any
+better God than the great Manitou? Does he not speak in the thunder, in
+the roar of the mighty cataract, and is not his voice soft when he
+chants in the summer night wind? He gives a brave victory over his
+enemies, he makes the corn grow and fills the woods with game, the lakes
+with fish. He is good enough God for me."</p>
+
+<p>"Why then did he let the French take your lands?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The man rose up on his elbow.</p>
+
+<p>"Because we were cowards!" he cried fiercely. "Because the priests made
+us weak with their religion, made women of us, called us to their
+mumbling prayers instead of fighting our enemies! They and the English
+gave us their fire water to drink and stole away our senses! And now
+they are both going to be driven out by these pigs of Americans. It
+serves them right."</p>
+
+<p>"And what will <i>you</i> do, Monsieur Marsac?" asked Pani with innocent
+irony.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I do not care for their grounds nor their fights. I shall go up
+north again for furs, and now the way is open for a wider trade and a
+man can make more money. I take thrift from my French father, you see.
+But some day my people will rise again, and this time it will not be a
+Pontiac war. We have some great chiefs left. We will not be crowded out
+of everything. You will see."</p>
+
+<p>Then he sprang up lithe and graceful. He was of medium size but so well
+proportioned that he might have been modeled from the old Greeks. His
+hair was black and straight but had a certain softness, and his skin was
+like fine bronze, while his features were clearly cut. Now and then some
+man of good birth had married an Indian woman by the rites of the
+Church, and this Hugh de Marsac had done. But of all their children only
+one remained, and now the elder De Marsac had a lucrative post at
+Michilimackinac, while his son went to and fro on business. Outside of
+the post in the country sections the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span> mixed marriages were quite common,
+and the French made very good husbands.</p>
+
+<p>"Mam'selle Jeanne," he said with a low bow, "I admire your courage and
+taste. What one can see to adore in those stuffy old fathers puzzles me!
+As for praying in a cell, the whole wide heavens and earth that God has
+made lifts up one's soul to finer thoughts than mumbling over beads or
+worshiping a Christ on the cross. And you will be much too handsome, my
+brier rose, to shut yourself up in any Recollet house. There will be
+lovers suing for your pretty hand and your rosy lips."</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne hid her face on Pani's shoulder. The admiring look did not suit
+her just now though in a certain fashion this young fellow had been her
+playmate and devoted attendant.</p>
+
+<p>"Let us go back home," she exclaimed suddenly.</p>
+
+<p>"Why hurry, Mam'selle? Let us go down to King's wharf and see the boats
+come in."</p>
+
+<p>Her eyes lighted eagerly. She gave a hop on one foot and held out her
+hand to the woman, who rose slowly, then put the long, lean arm about
+the child's neck, who smiled up with a face of bloom to the wrinkled and
+withered one above her.</p>
+
+<p>Louis Marsac frowned a little. What ailed the child to-day? She was
+generally ready enough to demand his attentions.</p>
+
+<p>"Mam'selle, you brought your story to an abrupt termination. I thought
+you liked the accessories. The procession that marched up the aisle of
+St. Anne's, the shower of kisses bestowed upon you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span> after possible evil
+had been exorcised by holy water; the being taken home in Madame
+Bellestre's carriage&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"If I wanted to hear it Pani could tell me. Walk behind, Louis, the path
+is narrow."</p>
+
+<p>"I will go ahead and clear the way," he returned with dignified sarcasm,
+suiting his pace to the action.</p>
+
+<p>"That is hardly polite, Monsieur."</p>
+
+<p>"Why yes. If there was any danger, I would be here to face it. I am the
+advance guard."</p>
+
+<p>"There never is any danger. And Pani is tall and strong. I am not
+afraid."</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps you would rather I would not go? Though I believe you accepted
+my invitation heartily."</p>
+
+<p>Just then two half drunken men lurched into the path. Drunkenness was
+one of the vices of that early civilization. Marsac pushed them aside
+with such force that the nearer one toppling against the other, both
+went over.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you, Monsieur; it was good to have you."</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne stretched herself up to her tallest and Marsac suddenly realized
+how she had grown, and that she was prettier than a year ago with some
+charm quite indescribable. If she were only a few years, older&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"A man is sometimes useful," he returned dryly, glancing at her with a
+half laugh.</p>
+
+<p>After the English had possession of Detroit, partly from the spirit of
+the times, the push of the newcomers, and the many restrictions that
+were abolished,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span> the Detroit river took on an aspect of business that
+amazed the inhabitants. Sailing vessels came up the river, merchantmen
+loaded with cargoes instead of the string of canoes. And here was one at
+the old King's wharf with busy hands, whites and Indians, running to and
+fro with bales and boxes, presenting a scene of activity not often
+witnessed. Others had come down to see it as well. Marsac found a little
+rise of ground occupied by some boys that he soon dispossessed and put
+the woman and child in their places, despite black looks and mutterings.</p>
+
+<p>What a beautiful sight it all was, Jeanne thought. Up the Strait, as the
+river was often called, to the crystal clear lake of St. Clair and the
+opposite shore of Canada, with clumps of dense woods that seemed
+guarding the place, and irregular openings that gave vistas of the far
+away prospect. What was all that great outside world like? After St.
+Clair river, Lake Huron and Michilimackinac? There were a great mission
+station and some nuns, and a large store place for the fur trade. And
+then&mdash;Hudson Bay somewhere clear to the end of the world, she thought.</p>
+
+<p>The men uttered a sort of caroling melody with their work. There were
+some strange faces she had never seen before, swarthy people with great
+gold hoops in their ears.</p>
+
+<p>"Are they Americans?" she asked, her idea of Americans being that they
+were a sort of conglomerate.</p>
+
+<p>"No&mdash;Spaniards, Portuguese, from the other side of the world. There are
+many strange peoples."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Louis Marsac's knowledge was extremely limited, as education had not
+made much of an advance among ordinary people. But he was glad he knew
+this when he saw the look of awe that for an instant touched the rosy
+face.</p>
+
+<p>There were some English uniforms on the scene. For though the boundaries
+had been determined the English Commandant made various excuses, and
+demanded every point of confirmation. There had been an acrimonious
+debate on conditions and much vexatious delay, as if he was individually
+loath to surrender his authority. In fact the English, as the French had
+before them, cherished dreams of recovering the territory, which would
+be in all time to come an important center of trade. No one had dreamed
+of railroads then.</p>
+
+<p>The sun began to drop down behind the high hills with their
+timber-crowned tops. Pani turned.</p>
+
+<p>"We must go home," she said, and Jeanne made no objections. She was a
+little tired and confused with a strange sensation, as if she had
+suddenly grown, and the bounds were too small.</p>
+
+<p>Marsac made way for them, up the narrow, wretched street to the gateway.
+The streets were all narrow with no pretense at order. In some places
+were lanes where carriages could not pass each other. St. Louis street
+was better but irregularly built, with frame and hewn log houses. There
+was the old block house at either end, and the great, high palisades,
+and the citadel, which served for barracks' stores, and housed some of
+the troops. Here they<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span> passed St. Anne's street with its old church and
+the military garden at the upper end; houses of one and two stories with
+peaked thatched roofs, and a few of more imposing aspect. On the west of
+the citadel near St. Joseph's street they paused before a small cottage
+with a little garden at the side, which was Pani's delight. There were
+only two rooms, but it was quite fine with some of the Bellestre
+furnishings. At one end a big fireplace and a seat each side of it.
+Opposite, the sleeping chamber with one narrow bed and a high one,
+covered with Indian blankets. Beds and pillows of pine and fir needles
+were renewed often enough to keep the place curiously fragrant.</p>
+
+<p>"I will bid you good evening," exclaimed Marsac with a dignified bow.
+"Mam'selle, I hope you are not tired out. You look&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>A saucy smile went over her face. "Do I look very strange?" pertly. "And
+I am not tired, but half starved. Good night, Monsieur."</p>
+
+<p>"Pani will soon remedy that."</p>
+
+<p>The bell was clanging out its six strokes. That was the old signal for
+the Indians and whoever lived outside the palisades to retire.</p>
+
+<p>He bowed again and walked up to the Fort and the Parade.</p>
+
+<p>"Angelot," he said to himself, knitting his brow. "Where have I heard
+the name away from Detroit? She will be a pretty girl and I must keep an
+eye on her."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>CHAPTER II.</h2>
+
+<h3>RAISING THE NEW FLAG.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Old Detroit had seemed roomy enough when Monsieur Cadillac planted the
+lilies of France and flung out the royal standard. And the hardy men
+slept cheerfully on their beds of fir twigs with blankets drawn over
+them, and the sky for a canopy, until the stockade was built and the
+rude fort made a place of shelter. But before the women came it had been
+rendered habitable and more secure; streets were laid out, the chapel of
+St. Anne's built, and many houses put up inside the palisades. And there
+was gay, cheerful life, too, for French spirits and vivacity could not
+droop long in such exhilarating air.</p>
+
+<p>Canoes and row boats went up and down the river with merry crews. And in
+May there was a pole put in what was to be the military garden, and from
+it floated the white flag of France. On the green there was a great
+concourse and much merriment and dancing, and not a little love making.
+For if a soldier asked a pretty Indian maid in marriage, the Commandant
+winked at it, and she soon acquired French and danced with the gayest of
+them.</p>
+
+<p>Then there was a gala time when the furs came in and the sales were
+made, and the boats loaded and sent on to Montreal to be shipped across
+the sea; or the Dutch merchants came from the Mohawk valley<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span> or New
+Amsterdam to trade. The rollicking <i>coureurs des bois</i>, who came to be
+almost a race by themselves, added their jollity and often carried it
+too far, ending in fighting and arrests.</p>
+
+<p>But it was not all gayety. Up to this time there had been two terrible
+attacks on the fort, and many minor ones. Attempts had been made to burn
+it; sometimes the garrison almost starved in bad seasons. France, in all
+her seventy years of possession, never struck the secret of colonizing.
+The thrifty emigrant in want of a home where he could breathe a freer
+air than on his native soil was at once refused. The Jesuit rule was
+strict as to religion; the King of France would allow no laws but his
+own, and looked upon his colonies as sources of revenue if any could be
+squeezed out of them, sources of glory if not.</p>
+
+<p>The downfall of Canada had been a sad blow. The French colonist felt it
+more keenly than the people thousands of miles away, occupied with many
+other things. And the bitterest of all protests was made by the Jesuits
+and the Church. They had been fervent and heroic laborers, and many a
+life had been bravely sacrificed for the furtherance of the work among
+the Indians.</p>
+
+<p>True, there had not been a cordial sympathy between the Jesuits and the
+Recollets, but the latter had proved the greater favorites in Detroit.
+There was now the Recollet house near the church, where they were
+training young girls and teaching the catechism and the rules of the
+Church, as often orally as by book, as few could read. Here were some<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span>
+Indian girls from tribes that had been almost decimated in the savage
+wars, some of whom were bound out afterward as servants. There were
+slaves, mostly of the old Pawnee tribe, some very old, indeed; others
+had married, but their children were under the ban of their parents.</p>
+
+<p>With the coming of the English there was a wider liberty, a new
+atmosphere, and though the French protested bitterly and could not but
+believe the mother country would make some strenuous effort to recover
+the territory as they temporized with the Indians and held out vague
+hopes, yet, as the years passed on, they found themselves insensibly
+yielding to the sway, and compelled now and then to fight for their
+homes against a treacherous enemy. Mayor Gladwyn had been a hero to them
+in his bravery and perseverance.</p>
+
+<p>There came in a wealthier class of citizens to settle, and officials
+were not wanting in showy attire. Black silk breeches and hose, enormous
+shoe buckles, stiff stocks, velvet and satin coats and beaver hats were
+often seen. Ladies rejoiced in new importations, and in winter went
+decked in costly furs. Even the French damsels relaxed their plain
+attire and made pictures with their bright kerchiefs tied coquettishly
+over curling hair, and they often smiled back at the garrison soldiers
+or the troops on parade. The military gardens were improved and became
+places of resort on pleasant afternoons, and the two hundred houses
+inside the pickets increased a little, encroaching more and more on the
+narrow streets.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span> The officers' houses were a little grander; some of the
+traders indulged in more show and their wives put on greater airs and
+finer gowns and gave parties. The Campeau house was venerable even then,
+built as it was on the site of Cadillac's headquarters and abounding in
+many strange legends, and there were rude pictures of the Canoe with
+Madame Cadillac, who had made the rough voyage with her ladies and come
+to a savage wilderness out of love for her husband; and the old, long,
+low Cass house that had sheltered so many in the Pontiac war, and the
+Governor's house on St. Anne's street, quite grand with its two stories
+and peaked roof, with the English colors always flying.</p>
+
+<p>Many of the houses were plastered over the rough hewn cedar lath, others
+were just of the smaller size trees split in two and the interstices
+filled in. Many were lined with birch bark, with borders of beautiful
+ash and silver birch. Chimneys were used now, great wide spaces at one
+end filled in with seats. In winter furs were hung about and often
+dropped over the windows at night, which were always closed with tight
+board shutters as soon as dusk set in, which gave the streets a gloomy
+aspect and in nowise assisted a prowling enemy. A great solid oaken
+door, divided in the middle with locks and bars that bristled with
+resistance, was at the front.</p>
+
+<p>But inside they were comfortable and full of cheer. Wooden benches and
+chairs, some of the former with an arm and a cushion of spruce twigs
+covered with a bear or wolf skin, though in the finer houses there were<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span>
+rush bottoms and curiously stained splints with much ornamental Indian
+work. A dresser in the living room displayed not only Queen's ware, but
+such silver and pewter as the early colonists possessed, and there were
+pictures curiously framed, ornaments of wampum and shells and fine bead
+work. The family usually gathered here, and the large table standing in
+the middle of the floor had a hospitable look heightened by the savory
+smells which at that day seemed to offend no one.</p>
+
+<p>The farms all lay without and stretched down the river and westward. The
+population outside had increased much faster, for there was room to
+grow. There were little settlements of French, others of half-breeds,
+and not a few Indian wigwams. The squaws loved to shelter themselves
+under the wing of the Fort and the whites. Business of all kinds had
+increased since the coming of the English.</p>
+
+<p>But now there had occurred another overturn. Detroit had been an
+important post during the Revolution, and though General Washington,
+Jefferson, and Clark had planned expeditions for its attack, it was, at
+the last, a bloodless capture, being included in the boundaries named in
+the Quebec Act. But the British counted on recapture, and the Indians
+were elated with false hopes until the splendid victories of General
+Wayne in northern Illinois against both Indians and English. By his
+eloquence and the announcement of the kindly intentions of the United
+States, the Chippewa nation made gifts of large tracts of land and
+relinquished all claims to Detroit and Mackinaw.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The States had now two rather disaffected peoples. Many of the English
+prepared to return to Canada with the military companies. The French had
+grown accustomed to the rule and still believed in kings and state and
+various titles. But the majority of the poor scarcely cared, and would
+have grumbled at any rule.</p>
+
+<p>For weeks Detroit was in a ferment with the moving out. There were
+sorrowful farewells. Many a damsel missed the lover to whom she had
+pinned her faith, many an irregular marriage was abruptly terminated.
+The good Recollet fathers had tried to impress the sacredness of family
+ties upon their flock, but since the coming of the English, the liberty
+allowed every one, and the Protestant form of worship, there had grown a
+certain laxness even in the town.</p>
+
+<p>"It is going to be a great day!" declared Jeanne, as she sprang out of
+her little pallet. There were two beds in the room, a great, high-post
+carved bedstead of the Bellestre grandeur, and the cot Jacques Pallent,
+the carpenter, had made, which was four sawed posts, with a frame nailed
+to the top of them. It was placed in the corner, and so, out of sight,
+Pani felt that her charge was always safe. In the morning Jeanne
+generally turned a somersault that took her over to the edge of the big
+bed, from whence she slid down.</p>
+
+<p>The English had abolished slavery in name, but most of the Pani servants
+remained. They seldom had any other than their tribal name. Since the
+departure of the Bellestres Jeanne's guardian had taken on a new
+dignity. She was a tall, grave<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span> woman, and much respected by all. No one
+would have thought of interfering with her authority over the child.</p>
+
+<p>"Hear the cannon at the Fort and the bells. And everybody will be out!
+Pani, give me some breakfast and let me go."</p>
+
+<p>"Nay, nay, child. You cannot go alone in such a crowd as this will be.
+And I must set the house straight."</p>
+
+<p>"But Marie De Ber and Pierre are to go. We planned it last night. Pierre
+is a big, strong boy, and he can pick his way through a crowd with his
+elbows. His mother says he always punches holes through his sleeves."</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne laughed gayly. Pierre was a big, raw-boned fellow, a good guard
+anywhere.</p>
+
+<p>"Nay, child, I shall go, too. It will not be long. And here is a choice
+bit of bread browned over the coals that you like so much, and the corn
+mush of last night fried to a turn."</p>
+
+<p>"Let me run and see Marie a moment&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"With that head looking as if thou hadst tumbled among the burrs, or
+some hen had scratched it up for a nest! And eyes full of dew webs that
+are spun in the grass by the spirits of night."</p>
+
+<p>"Look, they are wide open!" She buried her face in a pail of water and
+splashed it around as a huge bird might, as she raised her beautiful
+laughing orbs, blue now as the midnight sky. And then she carelessly
+combed the tangled curls that fell about her like the spray of a
+waterfall.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Thou must have a coif like other French girls, Jeanne. Berth&ecirc; Campeau
+puts up her hair."</p>
+
+<p>"Berth&ecirc; goes to the Recollets and prays and counts beads, and will run
+no more or shout, and sings only dreary things that take the life and
+gayety out of you. She will go to Montreal, where her aunt is in a
+convent, and her mother cries about it. If I had a mother I would not
+want to make her cry. Pani, what do you suppose happened to my mother?
+Sometimes I think I can remember her a little."</p>
+
+<p>The face so gay and willful a moment before was suddenly touched with a
+sweet and tender gravity.</p>
+
+<p>"She is dead this long time, <i>petite</i>. Children may leave their mothers,
+but mothers never give up their children unless they are taken from
+them."</p>
+
+<p>"Pani, what if the Indian woman had stolen me?"</p>
+
+<p>"But she said you had no mother. Come, little one, and eat your
+breakfast."</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne was such a creature of moods and changes that she forgot her
+errand to Marie. She clasped her hands together and murmured her French
+blessing in a soft, reverent tone.</p>
+
+<p>Maize was a staple production in the new world, when the fields were not
+destroyed by marauding parties. There were windmills that ground it
+coarsely and both cakes and porridge were made of it. The Indian women
+cracked and pounded it in a stone mortar and boiled it with fish or
+venison. The French brought in many new ways of cooking.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, hear the bells and the music from the Fort!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span> Come, hurry, Pani, if
+you are going with us. Pani, are people slow when they get old?"</p>
+
+<p>"Much slower, little one."</p>
+
+<p>"Then I don't want to be old. I want to run and jump and climb and swim.
+Marie knits, she has so many brothers and sisters. But I like leggings
+better in the winter. And they sew at the Recollet house."</p>
+
+<p>"And thou must learn to sew, little one."</p>
+
+<p>"Wait until I am big and old and have to sit in the chimney corner.
+There are no little ones&mdash;sometimes I am glad, sometimes sorry, but if
+they are not here one does not have to work for them."</p>
+
+<p>She gave a bright laugh and was off like a flash. The Pani woman sighed.
+She wondered sometimes whether it would not have been better to give her
+up to the good father who took such an interest in her. But she was all
+the poor woman had to love. True she could be a servant in the house,
+but to have her wild, free darling bound down to rigid rules and made
+unhappy was more than she could stand. And had not Mr. Bellestre
+provided this home for them?</p>
+
+<p>The woman had hardly put away the dishes, which were almost as much of
+an idol to her as the child, when Jeanne came flying back.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, hurry, hurry, Pani! They are all ready. And Madame De Ber said
+Marie should not go out on such a day unless you went too. She called me
+feather headed! As if I were an Indian chief with a great crown of
+feathers!"</p>
+
+<p>The child laughed gayly. It was as natural to her as singing to a bird.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Pani gathered up a few last things and looked to see that the fire was
+put out.</p>
+
+<p>Already the streets were being crowded and presented a picturesque
+aspect. Inside the stockade the <i>chemin du ronde</i> extended nearly around
+the town and this had been widened by the necessity of military
+operations. Soldiers were pouring out of the Citadel and the Fort but
+the colonial costume looked queer to eyes accustomed to the white
+trimmings of the French and the red of the British. The latter had made
+a grander show many a time, both in numbers and attire. There were the
+old French habitans, gay under every new dispensation, in tanned
+leathern small clothes, made mostly of deer skin, and blue blouses, blue
+cap, with a red feather, some disporting themselves in unwonted finery
+kept for holiday occasions; pretty laughing demoiselles with bright
+kerchiefs or a scarf of open, knitted lace-like stuff with beads that
+sparkled with every coquettish turn of the head; there were Indians with
+belted tomahawks and much ornamented garments, gorgets and collars of
+rudely beaten copper or silver if they could afford to barter furs for
+them, half-breed dandies who were gorgeous in scarlet and jewelry of all
+sorts, squaws wrapped in blankets, looking on wonderingly, and the new
+possessors of Detroit who were at home everywhere.</p>
+
+<p>The procession formed at the parade in front of the Fort. Some of the
+aristocracy of the place were out also, staid middle-aged men with
+powdered queues and velvet coats, elegant ladies in crimson silk
+petticoats<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span> and skirts drawn back, the train fastened up with a ribbon
+or chain which they carried on their arms as they minced along on their
+high heeled slippers, carrying enormous fans that were parasols as well,
+and wearing an immense bonnet, the fashion in France a dozen years
+before.</p>
+
+<p>"What is it all about?" asked one and another.</p>
+
+<p>"They are to put up a new flag."</p>
+
+<p>"For how long?" in derision. "The British will be back again in no
+time."</p>
+
+<p>"Are there any more conquerors to come? We turn our coats at every one's
+bidding it seems."</p>
+
+<p>The detachment was from General Wayne's command and great was the
+disappointment that the hero himself was not on hand to celebrate the
+occasion; but he had given orders that possession of the place should be
+signalized without him. Indeed, he did not reach Detroit until a month
+later.</p>
+
+<p>On July 11, 1796, the American flag was raised above Detroit, and many
+who had never seen it gazed stupidly at it, as its red and white stripes
+waved on the summer air, and its blue field and white stars shone
+proudly from the flag staff, blown about triumphantly on the radiant air
+shimmering with golden sunshine.</p>
+
+<p>Shouts went up like volleys. All the Michigan settlements were now a
+part of the United Colonies, that had so bravely won their freedom and
+were extending their borders over the cherished possessions of France
+and England.</p>
+
+<p>The post was formally delivered up to the governor<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span> of the territory.
+Another flag was raised on the Citadel, which was for the accommodation
+of the general and his suite at present and whoever was commandant. It
+was quite spacious, with an esplanade in front, now filled by soldiers.
+There were the almost deafening salutes and the blare of the band.</p>
+
+<p>"Why it looks like heaven at night!" cried Jeanne rapturously. "I shall
+be an American,&mdash;I like the stars better than the lilies of France, and
+the red cross is hateful. For stars <i>are</i> of heaven, you know, you
+cannot make them grow on earth."</p>
+
+<p>A kindly, smiling, elderly man turned and caught sight of the eager,
+rosy face.</p>
+
+<p>"And which, I wonder, is the brave General Wayne?"</p>
+
+<p>"He is not here to-day unfortunately and cannot taste the sweets of his
+many victories. But he is well worth seeing, and quite as sorry not to
+be here as you are to miss him. But he is coming presently."</p>
+
+<p>"Then it is not the man who is making a speech?&mdash;and see what a
+beautiful horse he has!"</p>
+
+<p>"That is the governor, Major General St. Clair."</p>
+
+<p>"And General Wayne, is he an American?"</p>
+
+<p>The man gave an encouraging smile to the child's eager inquiry.</p>
+
+<p>"An American? yes. But look you, child. The only proper Americans would
+be the Indians."</p>
+
+<p>She frowned and looked puzzled.</p>
+
+<p>"A little way back we came from England and France and Holland and Spain
+and Italy. We are so diverse that it is a wonder we can be harmonized.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span>
+Only there seems something in this grand air, these mighty forests,
+these immense lakes and rivers, that nurtures liberty and independence
+and breadth of thought and action. Who would have dreamed that clashing
+interests could have been united in that one aim, liberty, and that it
+could spread itself from the little nucleus, north, south, east, and
+west! The young generation will see a great country. And I suppose we
+will always be Americans."</p>
+
+<p>He turned to the young man beside him, who seemed amused at the
+enthusiasm that rang in his voice and shone in his eyes of light, clear
+blue as he had smiled down on the child who scarcely understood, but
+took in the general trend and was moved by the warmth and glow.</p>
+
+<p>"Monsieur, there are many countries beside England and France," she said
+thoughtfully.</p>
+
+<p>"O yes, a world full of them. Countries on the other side of the globe
+of which we know very little."</p>
+
+<p>"The other side?" Her eyes opened wide in surprise, and a little crease
+deepened in the sunny brow as she flung the curls aside. She wore no hat
+of any kind in summer.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, it is a round world with seas and oceans and land on both sides.
+And it keeps going round."</p>
+
+<p>"But, Monsieur," as he made a motion with his hand to describe it, "why
+does not the water spill out and the ground slide off? What makes
+it&mdash;oh, how can it stick?" with a laugh of incredulity.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Because a wisdom greater than all of earth rules it. Are there no
+schools in Detroit?"</p>
+
+<p>"The English have some and there is the Recollet house and the sisters.
+But they make you sit still, and presently you go to Montreal or Quebec
+and are a nun, and wear a long, black gown, and have your head tied up.
+Why, I should smother and I could not hear! That is so you cannot hear
+wicked talk and the drunken songs, but I love the birds and the wind
+blowing and the trees rustling and the river rushing and beating up in a
+foam. And I am not afraid of the Indians nor the <i>shil loups</i>," but she
+lowered her tone a trifle.</p>
+
+<p>"Do not put too much trust in the Indians, Mam'selle. And there is the
+<i>loup garou</i>&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"But I have seen real wolves, Monsieur, and when they bring in the furs
+there are so many beautiful ones. Madame De Ber says there is no such
+thing as a <i>loup garou</i>, that a person cannot be a man and a wolf at the
+same time. When the wolves and the panthers and the bears howl at night
+one's blood runs chilly. But we are safe in the stockade."</p>
+
+<p>"There is much for thee to learn, little one," he said, after a pause.
+"There must be schools in the new country so that all shall not grow up
+in ignorance. Where is thy father?"</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne Angelot stared straight before her seeing nothing. Her father?
+The De Bers had a father, many children had, she remembered. And her
+mother was dead.</p>
+
+<p>The address ended and there was a thundering roll<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span> of drums, while
+cheers went up here and there. Cautious French habitans and traders
+thought it wiser to wait and see how long this standard of stripes and
+stars would wave over them. They were used to battles and conquering and
+defeated armies, and this peace they could hardly understand. The
+English were rather sullen over it. Was this stripling of newfound
+liberty to possess the very earth?</p>
+
+<p>The crowd surged about. Pani caught the arm of her young charge and drew
+her aside. She was alarmed at the steady scrutiny the young man had
+given her, though it was chiefly as to some strange specimen.</p>
+
+<p>"Thou art overbold, Jeanne, smiling up in a young man's face and
+puckering thy brows like some maid coquetting for a lover."</p>
+
+<p>"A young man!" Jeanne laughed heartily. "Why he had a snowy beard like a
+white bear in winter. Where were your eyes, Pani? And he told me such
+curious things. Is the world round, Pani? And there are lands and lands
+and strange people&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"It is a brave show," exclaimed Louis Marsac joining them. "I wonder how
+long it will last. There are to be some new treaties I hear about the
+fur trade. That man from the town called New York, a German or some such
+thing, gets more power every month. A messenger came this morning and I
+am to return to my father at once. Jeanne, I wish thou and Pani wert
+going to the upper lakes with me. If thou wert older&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>She turned away suddenly. Marie De Ber had a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span> group of older girls about
+her and she plunged into them, as if she might be spirited away.</p>
+
+<p>Monsieur St. Armand had looked after his little friend but missed her in
+the crowd, and a shade of disappointment deepened his blue eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Mon p&egrave;re</i>," began the young man beside him, "evidently thou wert born
+for a missionary to the young. I dare say you discovered untold
+possibilities in that saucy child who knows well how to flirt her curls
+and arch her eyebrows. She amused me. Was that half-breed her brother, I
+wonder!"</p>
+
+<p>"She was not a half-breed, Laurent. There are curious things in this
+world, and something about her suggested&mdash;or puzzled. She has no Indian
+eyes, but the rarest dark blue I ever saw. And did Indian blood ever
+break out in curly hair?"</p>
+
+<p>"I only noticed her swarthy skin. And there is such a mixed-up crew in
+this town! Come, the grand show is about over and now we are all reborn
+Americans up to the shores of Lake Superior. But we will presently be
+due at the Montdesert House. Are we to have no more titles and French
+nobility be on a level with the plainest, just Sieur and Madame?" with a
+little curl of the lips. The elder smiled good naturedly, nay, even
+indulgently.</p>
+
+<p>"The demoiselles are more to thee than that splendid flag waving over a
+free country. Thou canst return&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"But the dinner?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, yes, then we will go together," he assented.</p>
+
+<p>"If we can pick our way through this crowd.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span> What beggarly narrow
+streets. Faugh! One can hardly get his breath. Our wilds are to be
+preferred."</p>
+
+<p>By much turning in and out they reached the upper end of St. Louis
+street, which at that period was quite an elevation and overlooked the
+river.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>CHAPTER III.</h2>
+
+<h3>ON THE RIVER.</h3>
+
+
+<p>The remainder of the day was devoted to gayety, and with the male
+population carousing in too many instances, though there were
+restrictions against selling intoxicants to the Indians inside the
+stockade. The Frenchman drank a little and slowly, and was merry and
+vivacious. Groups up on the Parade were dancing to the inspiriting
+music, or in another corner two or three fiddles played the merriest of
+tunes.</p>
+
+<p>Outside, and the larger part of the town was outside now, the farms
+stretched back with rude little houses not much more than cabins. There
+was not much call for solidity when a marauding band of Indians might
+put a torch to your house and lay it in ashes. But with the new peace
+was coming a greater feeling of security.</p>
+
+<p>There were little booths here and there where squaws were cooking
+sagamite and selling it in queer dishes made of gourds. There were the
+little maize cakes well-browned, piles of maple sugar and wild summer
+plums just ripening. The De Ber children, with Jeanne and Pani, took
+their dinner here and there out of doors with much merriment. It was
+here Marsac joined them again, his hands full of fruit, which he gave to
+the children.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Come over to the Strait," he exclaimed. "That is a sight worth seeing.
+Everything is out."</p>
+
+<p>"O yes," cried Jeanne, eagerly. "And, Louis, can you not get a boat or a
+canoe? Let us go out on the water. I'm tired of the heat and dust."</p>
+
+<p>They threaded their way up to Merchants' wharf, for at King's wharf the
+crowd was great. At the dock yard, where, under the English, some fine
+vessels had been built, a few were flying pennons of red and white, and
+some British ships that had not yet left flaunted their own colors. As
+for the river, that was simply alive with boats of every description;
+Indian rowers and canoers, with loads of happy people singing, shouting,
+laughing, or lovers, with heads close together, whispering soft
+endearments or promising betrothal.</p>
+
+<p>"Stay here while I see if I can get a boat," said Louis, darting off,
+disappearing in the crowd.</p>
+
+<p>They had been joined by another neighbor, Madame Ganeau and her daughter
+Delisse, and her daughter's lover, a gay young fellow.</p>
+
+<p>"He will have hard work," declared Jacques. "I tried. Not a canoe or a
+pirogue or a flat boat. I wish him the joy of success."</p>
+
+<p>"Then we will have to paddle ourselves," said Jeanne. "Or float, Marie.
+I can float beautifully when the tide is serene."</p>
+
+<p>"I would not dare it for a hundred golden louis d'or," interposed
+Delisse.</p>
+
+<p>"But Jeanne dares everything. Do you remember when she climbed the
+palisade? When one has a lover&mdash;" and Marie sighed a little.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"One comes to her senses and is no longer a child," said Madame Ganeau
+with a touch of sharpness in her voice. "The saints alone know what will
+become of that wild thing. Marie, since your mother is so busy with her
+household, some one should look you up a lover. Thou art most fourteen
+if I remember rightly."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Madame."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, there is time to be sure. Delisse will be fifteen on her wedding
+day. That is plenty old enough. For you see the girl bows to her
+husband, which is as it should be. A girl well brought up should have no
+temper nor ways of her own and then she more easily drops into those of
+her husband, who is the head of the house."</p>
+
+<p>"I have a temper!" laughed Jeanne. "And I do not want any husband to
+rule over me as if I were a squaw."</p>
+
+<p>"He will rule thee in the end. And if thou triest him too far he may
+beat thee."</p>
+
+<p>"If he struck me I should&mdash;I should kill him," and Jeanne's eyes flashed
+fire.</p>
+
+<p>"Thou wilt have more sense, then. And if lovers are shy of thee thou
+wilt begin to long for them when thou art like a dried up autumn rose on
+its stem."</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne bridled and flung up her chin.</p>
+
+<p>Pierre took her soft hand in his rough one.</p>
+
+<p>"Do not mind," he said in a whisper; "I would never beat you even if you
+did not have dinner ready. And I will bring you lovely furs and whatever
+you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span> want. My father is willing to send me up in the fur country next
+year."</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne laughed, then turned to sudden gravity and gave back the pressure
+of the hand in repentance.</p>
+
+<p>"You are so good to me, Pierre. But I do not want to marry in a long,
+long time, until I get tired of other things. And I want plenty of them
+and fun and liberty."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, yes, you are full of fun," approvingly.</p>
+
+<p>Louis was coming up to them in a fine canoe and some Indian rowers. He
+waved his hand.</p>
+
+<p>"Good luck, you see! Step in. Now for a glorious sail. Is it up or
+down?"</p>
+
+<p>"Down," cried Jeanne hopping around on one foot, and still hanging to
+Pani.</p>
+
+<p>They were soon settled within. The river was like a stream of golden
+fire, each ripple with a kind of phosphorescent gleam as the foam
+slipped away. For the oars were beating it up in every direction. The
+air was tensely clear. There was Lake St. Clair spread out in the
+distance, touching a sky of golden blue, if such colors fuse. And the
+opposite shore with its wealth of trees and shrubs and beginnings of
+Sandwich and Windsor and Fort Malden; Au Cochon and Fighting island,
+Grosse island in the far distance, and Bois Blanc.</p>
+
+<p>"Sing," said the lover when they had gone down a little ways, for most
+of the crafts were given over to melody and laughter.</p>
+
+<p>He had a fine voice. Singing was the great delight of those days, and
+nothing was more beguiling than<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span> the songs of the voyageurs. Delisse
+joined and Marie's soft voice was like a lapping wave. Madame Ganeau
+talked low to Pani about the child.</p>
+
+<p>"It will not do for her to run wild much longer," she said with an air
+of authority. "She is growing so fast. Is there no one? Had not Father
+Rameau better write to M. Bellestre and see what his wishes are? And
+there is the Recollet house, though girls do not get much training for
+wives. Prayers and beads and penance are all well enough, some deserve
+them, but I take it girls were meant for wives, and those who can get no
+husbands or have lost them may be Saint Catherine's maids."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," answered Pani with a quaking heart; "M. Bellestre would know."</p>
+
+<p>"A thousand pities Madame should die. But I think there is wild blood in
+the child. You should have kept the Indian woman and made her tell her
+story."</p>
+
+<p>"She disappeared so quickly, and Madame Bellestre was so good and kind.
+The orphan of <i>Le bon Dieu</i>, she called her. Yes, I will see the good
+father."</p>
+
+<p>"And I will have a talk with him when Delisse goes to confession."
+Madame Ganeau gave a soft, relieved sigh. "My duty is done, almost, to
+my children. They will be well married, which is a great comfort to a
+mother. And now I can devote myself to my grandchildren. Antoine has two
+fine boys and Jeanne a little daughter. It is a pleasant time of life
+with a woman. And Jean is prospering. We need<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span> not worry about our old
+age unless these Americans overturn everything."</p>
+
+<p>Pani was a good listener and Madame Ganeau loved to talk when there was
+no one to advance startling ideas or contradict her. Her life had been
+prosperous and she took the credit to herself. Jean Ganeau had been a
+good husband, tolerably sober, too, and thrifty.</p>
+
+<p>The two older girls chatted when they were not singing. It was seldom
+Marie had a holiday, and this was full of delight. Would she ever have a
+lover like Jacques Graumont, who would look at her with such adoring
+eyes and slyly snatch her hand when her mother was not looking?</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne was full of enjoyment and capers. Every bird that flashed in and
+out of the trees, the swans and wild geese that squawked in terror and
+scuttled into little nooks along the shore edge as the boats passed
+them, the fish leaping up now and then, brought forth exclamations of
+delight. She found a stick with which she beat up the water and once
+leaned out so far that Louis caught her by the arm and pulled her back.</p>
+
+<p>"Let go. You hurt me!" she exclaimed sharply.</p>
+
+<p>"You will be over."</p>
+
+<p>"As if I could not care for myself."</p>
+
+<p>"You are the spirit of the river. Are your mates down there? What if
+they summon you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Then why should I not go to them?" recklessly.</p>
+
+<p>"Because I will not let you."</p>
+
+<p>He looked steadily into her eyes. His were a little<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span> blurred and had an
+expression that did not please her. She turned away.</p>
+
+<p>"If I should go down and get the gold hidden under the sands&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"But a serpent guards it."</p>
+
+<p>"I am not afraid of a snake. I have killed more than one. And there are
+good spirits who will help you if you have the right charm."</p>
+
+<p>"But you do not need to go. Some one will work for you. Some one will
+get the gold and treasure. If you will wait&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I do not want the treasure. Pani and I have enough."</p>
+
+<p>She tossed her head, still looking away.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you know that I must go up to Micmac? I thought to stay all summer,
+but my father has sent."</p>
+
+<p>"And men have to obey their fathers as girls do their mothers;" in an
+idly indifferent tone.</p>
+
+<p>"It is best, Jeanne; I want to make a fortune."</p>
+
+<p>"I hope you will;" but there was a curl to her lip.</p>
+
+<p>"And I may come back next spring with the furs."</p>
+
+<p>She nodded indifferently.</p>
+
+<p>"My father has another secret, which may be worth a good deal."</p>
+
+<p>She made no answer but beat up the water again. There was nothing but
+pleasure in her mind.</p>
+
+<p>"Will you be glad to see me then? Will you miss me?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why&mdash;of course. But I think I do not like you as well as I used," she
+cried frankly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Not like me as well?" He was amazed. "Why, Jeanne?"</p>
+
+<p>"You have grown so&mdash;so&mdash;" neither her thoughts nor her vocabulary were
+very extensive. "I do not think I like men until they are quite old and
+have beautiful white beards and voices that are like the water when it
+flows softly. Or the boys who can run and climb trees with you and laugh
+over everything. Men want so much&mdash;what shall I say?" puzzled to express
+herself.</p>
+
+<p>"Concession. Agreement," he subjoined; "that is right," with a decisive
+nod. "I hate it," with a vicious swish in the water.</p>
+
+<p>"But when your way is wrong&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"My way is for myself," with dignity.</p>
+
+<p>"But if you have a lover, Jeanne?"</p>
+
+<p>"I shall never have one. Madame Ganeau says so. I am going to keep a
+wild little girl with no one but Pani until&mdash;until I am a very old woman
+and get aches and pains and perhaps die of a fever."</p>
+
+<p>She was in a very willful mood and she was only a child. One or two
+years would make a difference. If his father made a great fortune, and
+after all no one knew where she came from&mdash;he could marry in very good
+families, girls in plenty had smiled on him during the past two months.</p>
+
+<p>Was it watching these lovers that had stirred his blood? Why should he
+care for this child?</p>
+
+<p>"Had we not better turn about?" said Jacques Graumont, glancing around.</p>
+
+<p>There were purple shadows on one side of the river<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span> and high up on the
+distant hills and a soft yellow pink sheen on the water instead of the
+blaze of gold. A clear, high atmosphere that outlined everything on the
+Canadian shore as if it half derided its proud neighbor's jubilee.</p>
+
+<p>Other boats were returning. Songs that were so gay an hour ago took on a
+certain pensiveness, akin to the purple and dun stealing over the river.
+It moved Jeanne Angelot strangely; it gave her a sense of exaltation, as
+if she could fly like a bird to some strange country where a mother
+loved her and was waiting for her.</p>
+
+<p>When Louis Marsac spoke next to her she could have struck him in
+childish wrath. She wanted no one but the fragrant loneliness and the
+voices of nature.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't talk to me!" she cried impatiently. "I want to think. I like what
+is in my own mind better."</p>
+
+<p>Then the anger went slowly out of her face and it settled in lovely
+lines. Her mouth was a scarlet blossom, and her hair clung mistlike
+about brow and throat, softened by the warmth.</p>
+
+<p>They came grating against the dock after having waited for their turn.
+Marsac caught her arm and let the others go before her, and she, still
+in a half dream, waited. Then he put his arm about her, turned her one
+side, and pressed a long, hot kiss on her lips. His breath was still
+tainted with the brandy he had been drinking earlier in the day.</p>
+
+<p>She was utterly amazed at the first moment. Then<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span> she doubled up her
+small hand and struck the mouth that had so profaned her.</p>
+
+<p>"Hah! knave," cried a voice beside her. "Let the child alone! And answer
+to me. What business had you with this canoe? Child, where are your
+friends?"</p>
+
+<p>"My business with it was that I hired and paid for it," cried Marsac,
+angrily, and the next instant he felt for his knife.</p>
+
+<p>"Paid for it?" repeated the other. "Then come and convict a man of
+falsehood. Put up your knife. Let us have fair play. I had hired the
+canoe in the morning and went up the river, and was to have it this
+afternoon, and he declared you took it without leave or license."</p>
+
+<p>"That is a lie!" declared Marsac, passionately.</p>
+
+<p>"Jeanne! Jeanne!" cried Pani in distress.</p>
+
+<p>The stranger lifted her out. Jeanne looked back at Marsac, and then at
+the young man.</p>
+
+<p>"You will not fight him?" she said to the stranger. Fights and brawls
+were no uncommon events.</p>
+
+<p>"We shall have nothing to fight about if the man has lied to us both.
+But I wouldn't care to be in <i>his</i> skin. Come along, my man."</p>
+
+<p>"I am not your man," said Marsac, furiously angry.</p>
+
+<p>"Well&mdash;stranger, then. One can hardly say friend," in a dignified
+fashion that checked Marsac.</p>
+
+<p>Pani caught the child. Pierre was on the other side of her. "What was
+it?" he asked. How good his stolid, rugged face looked!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"A quarrel about the boat. Run and see how they settle it, Pierre."</p>
+
+<p>"But you and Marie&mdash;and it is getting dark."</p>
+
+<p>"Run, run! We are not afraid." She stamped her foot and Pierre obeyed.</p>
+
+<p>Marie clung to her. People jostled them, but they made their way through
+the narrow, crowded street. The bells were ringing, more from long habit
+now. Soldiers in uniform were everywhere, some as guards, caring for the
+noisier ones. Madame De Ber was leaning over her half door, and gave a
+cry of joy.</p>
+
+<p>"Where hast thou been all day, and where is Pierre, my son?" she
+demanded.</p>
+
+<p>The three tried to explain at once. They had had a lovely day, and
+Madame Ganeau, with her daughter and promised son-in-law, were along in
+the sail down the river. And Pierre had gone to see the result of a
+dispute&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"I sent him," cried Jeanne, frankly. "Oh, here he comes," as Pierre ran
+up breathless.</p>
+
+<p>"O my son, thou art safe&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"It was no quarrel of mine," said Pierre, "and if it had been I have two
+good fists and a foot that can kick. It was that Jogue who hired his
+boat twice over and pretended to forget. But he gave back the money. He
+had told a lie, however, for he said Marsac took the canoe without his
+knowledge, and then he declared he had been so mixed up&mdash;I think he was
+half drunk&mdash;that he could not remember. They were going to hand him over
+to the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span> guard, but he begged so piteously they let him off. Then he and
+Louis Marsac took another drink."</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne suddenly snatched up her skirt and scrubbed her mouth vigorously.</p>
+
+<p>"It has been a tiresome day," exclaimed Pani, "and thou must have a
+mouthful of supper, little one, and go to bed."</p>
+
+<p>She put her arm over the child's shoulder, with a caress; and Jeanne
+pressed her rosy cheek on the hand.</p>
+
+<p>"I do not want any supper but I will go to bed at once," she replied in
+a weary tone.</p>
+
+<p>"It is said that at the eastward in the Colonies they keep just such a
+July day with flags and confusion and cannon firing and bells ringing.
+One such day in a lifetime is enough for me," declared Madame De Ber.</p>
+
+<p>They kept the Fourth of July ever afterward, but this was really their
+national birthday.</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne scrubbed her mouth again before she said her little prayer and in
+five minutes she was soundly asleep. But the man who had kissed her and
+who had been her childhood's friend staggered homeward after a
+roistering evening, never losing sight of the blow she had struck him.</p>
+
+<p>"The tiger cat!" he said with what force he could summon. "She shall pay
+for this, if it is ten years! In three or four years I will marry her
+and then I will train her to know who is master. She shall get down on
+her knees to me if she is handsome as a princess, if she were a queen's
+daughter."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Laurent St. Armand went home to his father a good deal amused after all
+his disappointment and vexation, for he had been compelled to take an
+inferior canoe.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Mon p&egrave;re</i>," he said, as his father sat contentedly smoking, stretched
+out in a most comfortable fashion, "I have seen your little gossip of
+the morning, and I came near being in a quarrel with a son of the trader
+De Marsac, but we settled it amicably and I should have had a much
+better opinion of him, if he had not stopped to drink Jogue's vile
+brandy. He's a handsome fellow, too."</p>
+
+<p>"And is the little girl his sister?"</p>
+
+<p>"O no, not in anyway related." Then Laurent told the story, guessing at
+the kiss from the blow that had followed.</p>
+
+<p>"Good, I like that," declared St. Armand. "Whose child is it?"</p>
+
+<p>"That I do not know, but she lives up near the Citadel and her name is
+Jeanne Angelot. Shall I find her for you to-morrow?"</p>
+
+<p>"She is a brave little girl."</p>
+
+<p>"I do not like Marsac."</p>
+
+<p>"His mother was an Indian, the daughter of some chief, I believe. De
+Marsac is a shrewd fellow. He has great faith in the copper mines.
+Strange how much wealth lies hidden in the earth! But the quarrel?" with
+a gesture of interest.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, it was nothing serious and came about Jogue's lying. I rated him
+well for it, but he had been drinking and there was not much
+satisfaction. Well, it has<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span> been a grand day and now we shall see who
+next rules the key to the Northwest. There is great agitation about the
+Mississippi river and the gulf at the South. It is a daring country,
+<i>mon p&egrave;re</i>."</p>
+
+<p>The elder laughed with a softened approval.</p>
+
+<p>Louis Marsac did not come near St. Joseph street the next day. He slept
+till noon, when he woke with a humiliating sense of having quite lost
+his balance, for he seldom gave way to excesses. It was late in the
+afternoon when he visited the old haunts and threw himself under
+Jeanne's oak. Was she very angry? Pouf! a child's anger. What a sweet
+mouth she had! And she was none the worse for her spirit. But she was a
+tempestuous little thing when you ran counter to her ideas, or whims,
+rather.</p>
+
+<p>Since she had neither birth nor wealth, and was a mere child, there
+would be no lovers for several years, he could rest content with that
+assurance. And if he wanted her then&mdash;he gave an indifferent nod.</p>
+
+<p>Down at the Merchants' wharf, the following morning, he found the boats
+were to sail at once. He must make his adieus to several friends. Madame
+Ganeau must be congratulated on so fine a son-in-law, the De Bers must
+have an opportunity to wish him <i>bon voyage</i>.</p>
+
+<p>Pani sat out on the cedar plank that made the door-sill, and she was
+cutting deerskin fringe for next winter's leggings. "Jeanne," she
+called, "Louis has come to say good-by."</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne Angelot came out of the far room with a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span> curious hesitation. Pani
+had been much worried for fear she was ill, but Jeanne said laughingly
+that she was only tired.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, you run all day like a deer and never complain," was the troubled
+comment.</p>
+
+<p>"Am I complaining, Pani?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, Mam'selle. But I never knew you to want to lie on the cot in the
+daytime."</p>
+
+<p>"But I often lie out under the oak with my head in your lap."</p>
+
+<p>"To be sure."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm not always running or climbing."</p>
+
+<p>"No, little one;" with smiling assent.</p>
+
+<p>The little one came forward now and leaned against Pani's shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>"When I shall come back I do not know&mdash;in a year or two. I wonder if you
+will learn to talk English? We shall all have to be good Americans. And
+now you must wish me <i>bon voyage</i>. What shall I bring you when I come?
+Beaver or otter, or white fox&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Madame Reamaur hath a cape of beautiful silver fox, and when the wind
+blows through it there are curious dazzles on every tip."</p>
+
+<p>"Surely thou hast grand ideas, Jeanne Angelot."</p>
+
+<p>"I should not wear such a thing. I am only a little girl, and that is
+for great ladies. And Wenonah is making me a beautiful cape of feathers
+and quills, and the breast of wild ducks. She thinks Pani cured her
+little baby, and this is her offering. So I hardly want anything. But I
+wish thee good luck and pros<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span>perity, and a wife who will be meek and
+obedient, and study your pleasure in everything."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you a thousand times." He held out his hand. Pani pressed it
+cordially, but Jeanne did not touch it.</p>
+
+<p>"The little termagant!" he said to himself. "She has not forgiven me.
+But girls forget. And in a year or two she will be longing for finery.
+Silver fox, forsooth! That would be a costly gift. Where does the child
+get her ideas? Not from her neighborhood nor the Indian women she
+consorts with. Nor even Madame Ganeau," with an abrupt laugh.</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne was rather quiet all that day and did not go outside the
+palisade. But afterward she was her own irrepressible self. She climbed
+the highest trees, she swung from one limb to another, she rode astride
+saplings, she could manage a canoe and swim like a fish, and was the
+admiration of the children in her vicinity, though all of the
+southwestern end of the settlement knew her. She could whistle a bird to
+her and chatter with the squirrels, who looked out of beady eyes as if
+amazed and delighted that a human being belonging to the race of the
+destroyer understood their language. She had beaten Jacques Filion for
+robbing birds' nests, and she was a whole year younger, if anyone really
+knew how old she was.</p>
+
+<p>"There will never be a brave good enough for you," said the woman
+Wenonah, who lived in a sort of wigwam outside the palisades and had
+learned many things from her white sisters that had rather unsettled her
+Indian faith in braves. She kept her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span> house and little garden, made bead
+work and embroidery for the officers and official ladles, and cared for
+her little papooses with unwonted mother love. For Paspah spent most of
+his time stretched in the sunshine smoking his pipe, and often sold his
+game for a drink of rum. Several times he had been induced to go up
+north with the fur hunters, and Wenonah was happy and cheerful without
+him.</p>
+
+<p>"I do not want a brave," Jeanne would fling out laughingly. "I shall be
+brave enough for myself."</p>
+
+<p>"And thou art sensible, Red Rose!" nodding sagely. "There is no father
+to bargain thee away."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, if fathers do that, then I am satisfied to be without one,"
+returned the child gayly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>CHAPTER IV.</h2>
+
+<h3>JEANNE'S HERO.</h3>
+
+
+<p>There were many changes to make in the new government. Under the English
+there had been considerable emigration of better class people and more
+personal liberty. It was no longer everything for a king whose rigorous
+command was that there should be no thought of self-government, that
+every plan and edict must come from a court thousands of miles away,
+that knew nothing of the country.</p>
+
+<p>The French peasants scattered around the posts still adored their
+priests, but they had grown more ambitious and thrifty. Amiable, merry,
+and contented they endured their privations cheerfully, built bark and
+log cottages, many of them surrounded by sharpened palisades. There were
+Indian wigwams as well, and the two nations affiliated quite readily.
+The French were largely agriculturists, though many inside the Fort
+traded carefully, but the English claimed much of this business
+afterward.</p>
+
+<p>Captain Porter was very busy restoring order. Wells had been filled with
+stones, windows broken, fortifications destroyed. Arthur St. Clair had
+been appointed Governor of the Territory, which was then a part of
+Illinois, but the headquarters were at Marietta. Little attention was
+paid to Detroit further than to recognize it as a center of trade, while
+emi<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span>grants were pouring into the promising sites a little farther below.</p>
+
+<p>M. St. Armand had much business on hand with the new government, and was
+a most welcome guest in the better class families. The pretty
+demoiselles made much of Laurent and there were dinners and dances and
+card playing and sails on the river during the magnificent moonlight
+nights. The young American officers were glad of a little rest from the
+rude alarms of war that had been theirs so long, although they relaxed
+no vigilance. The Indians were hardly to be trusted in spite of their
+protestations, their pipes of peace, and exchange of wampum.</p>
+
+<p>The vessel was coming gayly up the river flying the new flag. There was
+always a host of idle people and children about the wharf, and now they
+thronged to see this General Anthony Wayne, who had not only been
+victorious in battles, but had convinced Joseph Brant, Little Turtle,
+and Blue Jacket that they were mistaken in their hopes of a British
+re-conquest, and had gained by honorable treaty much of the country that
+had been claimed by the Indians. Each month the feeling was growing
+stronger that the United States was to be a positive and enduring power.</p>
+
+<p>General Wayne stepped from the boat to the pier amid cheers, waving of
+flags and handkerchiefs. The soldiers were formed in line to escort him.
+He looked tired and worn, but there was a certain spirit in his fine,
+courageous eyes that answered the glances showered upon him, although
+his cordial words could only reach the immediate circle.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Jeanne caught a glimpse of him and stood wondering. Her ideas of heroes
+were vague and limited. She had seen the English dignitaries in their
+scarlet and gold lace, their swords and trappings, and this man looked
+plain beside them. Yet he or some power behind him had turned the
+British soldiers out of Detroit. What curious kind of strength was it
+that made men heroes? Something stirred within Jeanne that had never
+been there before,&mdash;it seemed to rise in her throat and almost strangle
+her, to heat her brain, and make her heart throb; her first sense of
+admiration for the finer power that was not brute strength,&mdash;and she
+could not understand it. No one about her could explain mental growth.</p>
+
+<p>Then another feeling of gladness rushed over her that made every pulse
+bound with delight.</p>
+
+<p>"O Pani," and she clutched the woman's coarse gown, "there is the man
+who talked to me the day they put up the flag&mdash;don't you remember? And
+see&mdash;he smiles, yes, he nods to me, to me!"</p>
+
+<p>She caught Pani's hand and gave it an exultant beat as if it had been a
+drum. It was near enough like parchment that had been beaten with many a
+drumstick. She was used to the child's vehemence.</p>
+
+<p>"I wish he were this great general! Pani, did you ever see a king?"</p>
+
+<p>"I have seen great chiefs in grand array. I saw Pontiac&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Pouf!" with a gesture that made her seem taller. "Madame Ganeau's
+mother saw a king once&mdash;Louis somebody&mdash;and he sat in a great chariot
+and bowed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span> to people, and was magnificent. That is such a grand word.
+And it is the way this man looks. Suppose a king came and spoke to
+you&mdash;why, you would be glad all your life."</p>
+
+<p>Pani's age and her phlegmatic Indian blood precluded much enthusiasm,
+but she smiled down in the eager face.</p>
+
+<p>The escort was moving on. The streets were too narrow to have any great
+throng of carriages, but General Wayne stepped into one. (The hospitable
+De Moirel House had been placed at his service until he could settle
+himself to his liking.) Madame Moirel and her two daughters, with
+Laurent St. Armand, were in the one that followed. Some of the officers
+and the chief citizens were on horseback.</p>
+
+<p>Then the crowd began to disperse in the slow, leisurely fashion of
+people who have little to do. Some men took to their boats. It did not
+need much to make a holiday then, and many were glad of the excuse. A
+throng of idlers followed in the <i>chemin du ronde</i>.</p>
+
+<p>Pani and her charge turned in the other direction. There was the thud of
+a horse, and Jeanne stepped half aside, then gave a gay, bright laugh as
+she shook the curls out of her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"So you have not forgotten me?" said the attractive voice that would
+have almost won one against his will.</p>
+
+<p>"O no, M'sieu. I knew you in a moment. I could not forget you."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you, <i>ma fille</i>." The simple adoration<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span> touched him. Her eyes
+were full of the subtle glow of delight.</p>
+
+<p>"You know what we spoke of that day, and now General Wayne has come. Did
+you see him?"</p>
+
+<p>"O yes, M'sieu. I looked sharp."</p>
+
+<p>"And were you pleased?" Something in her expression led him to think she
+was not quite satisfied, yet he smiled.</p>
+
+<p>"I think you are grander," she returned, simply.</p>
+
+<p>Then he laughed, but it was such a tender sound no one could be offended
+at it.</p>
+
+<p>"Monsieur," with a curious dignity, "did you ever see a king?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, my child, two of them. The English king, and the poor French king
+who was put to death, and the great Napoleon, the Emperor."</p>
+
+<p>"Were they very&mdash;I know one splendid word, M'sieu, <i>magnifique</i>, but I
+like best the way the English say it, magnificent. And were they&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"They were and are common looking men. Your Washington here is a peer to
+them. My child, kings are of human clay like other men; not as good or
+as noble as many another one."</p>
+
+<p>"I am sorry," she said, with quiet gravity, which betrayed her
+disappointment.</p>
+
+<p>"And you do not like General Wayne?"</p>
+
+<p>"O Monsieur, he has done great things for us. I hear them talk about
+him. Yes, you know I <i>must</i> like him, that is&mdash;I do not understand about
+likes and all that, why your heart suddenly goes out to one person and
+shuts up to another when neither of them<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span> may have done anything for
+you. I have been thinking of so many things lately, since I saw you. And
+Pierre De Ber asked the good father, when he went to be catechised on
+Friday, if the world was really round. And <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'Pere'">P&egrave;re</ins> Rameau said it was not a
+matter of salvation and that it made no difference whether it was round
+or square. Pierre is sure it must be a big, flat plain. You know we can
+go out ever so far on the prairies and it is quite level."</p>
+
+<p>"You must go to school, little one. Knowledge will solve many doubts.
+There will be better schools and more of them. Where does your father
+live? I should like to see him. And who is this woman?" nodding to
+Jeanne's attendant.</p>
+
+<p>"That is Pani. She has always cared for me. I have no father, Monsieur,
+and we cannot be sure about my mother. I haven't minded but I think now
+I would like to have some parents, if they did not beat me and make me
+work."</p>
+
+<p>"Pani is an Indian?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. She was Monsieur Bellestre's servant. And one day, under a great
+oak outside the palisade, some one, an Indian squaw, dropped me in her
+lap. Pani could not understand her language, but she said in French,
+'Maman dead, dead.' And when M. Bellestre went away, far, far to the
+south on the great river, he had the little cottage fixed for Pani and
+me, and there we live."</p>
+
+<p>St Armand beckoned the woman, who had been making desperate signs of
+disapprobation to Jeanne.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Tell me the story of this little girl," he said authoritatively.</p>
+
+<p>"Monsieur, she is mine and M. Bellestre's. Even the priest has no right
+to take her away."</p>
+
+<p>"No one will take her away, my good woman. Do not fear." For Pani's face
+was pale with terror and her whole form trembled. "Did you know nothing
+about this woman who brought her to you?"</p>
+
+<p>Pani told the story with some hesitation. The Indian woman talked very
+fair French. To what tribe she had belonged, even the De <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'Longeuils'">Longueils</ins> had
+not known otherwise than that she had been sent to Detroit with some
+Pawnee prisoners.</p>
+
+<p>"It is very curious," he commented. "I must go to the Recollet house and
+see these articles. And now tell me where I can find you&mdash;for I am due
+at the banquet given for General Wayne."</p>
+
+<p>"It is in St. Joseph's street above the Citadel," said Jeanne. "Oh, will
+you come? And perhaps you will not mind if I ask you some questions
+about the things that puzzle me," and an eager light shone in her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, not at all. Good day, little one. I shall see you soon," and he
+waved his hand.</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne gave a regretful smile. But then he would come. Oh, how proud he
+looked on his handsome horse! She felt as if something had gone out of
+the day, but the sun was shining.</p>
+
+<p>At the corner of old St. Louis street they paused. Here was M. De Ber's
+warehouse,&mdash;the close, un<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span>fragrant smell of left-over furs mingling with
+other smells and scenting the summer air. There was almost everything in
+it, for it had great depth though not a very wide frontage: hardware of
+many kinds, firearms, rough clothing such as the boatmen and laborers
+wore, blankets, moccasins, and bunches of feathers, that were once in
+great demand by the Indians and were still called upon for dances,
+though they were hardly war dances now, only held in commemoration.</p>
+
+<p>Pierre threw down the bundle he was shifting to the back of the place.</p>
+
+<p>"Have you seen Marie this morning, Jeanne?"</p>
+
+<p>There was a slow, indifferent shake of the head. The child's thoughts
+were elsewhere.</p>
+
+<p>"Then you do not know?" The words came quick and tumbled out of his
+throat, as it were. He was so glad to tell Jeanne his bit of news first,
+just as he had been glad to find the first flowers of spring for her, to
+bring her the first fruits of the orchard and the first ripe grapes. How
+many times he had scoured the woods for them!</p>
+
+<p>"What has happened?" The boy's eyes were shining and his face red to its
+utmost capacity, and Jeanne knew it was no harm.</p>
+
+<p>"Madame Ganeau came to tea last night. Delisse is to be married next
+month. They are to get the house ready for her to go into. It is just
+out of St. Anne's street, not far from the Recollet house. It will be
+Delisse's birthday. And Marie is to be one of the maids."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Oh, that will be fine," cried Jeanne eagerly. "I hope I can go."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course you will. I'll be sure of that," with an assumption of
+mannishness. "And a great boat load of finery comes in to Dupree's from
+Quebec. M. Ganeau has ordered many things. Oh, I wish I was old enough
+to be some one's lover!"</p>
+
+<p>"I must go and see Marie. And oh, Pierre, I have seen the great general
+who fought the Indians and the British so bravely."</p>
+
+<p>Pierre nodded. It made little difference to the lad who fought and who
+won so that they were kept safe inside of the stockade, and business was
+good, for then his father was better natured. On bad days Pierre often
+had a liberal dose of strap.</p>
+
+<p>"Come, Pani, let us go to Madame De Ber's."</p>
+
+<p>Marie was out on the doorstep tending the baby, who was teething and
+fretful. Madame was cooking some jam of sour plums and maple sugar that
+was a good appetizer in the winter. There was always a baby at the De
+Bers'.</p>
+
+<p>"And Delisse is to be married! Pierre told me."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; I wanted to run up this morning, but Aurel has been so cross. And
+I am to be one of the maids. At first mother said that I had no frock,
+but Madame Ganeau said get her a new one and it will do for next summer.
+I have outgrown most of my clothes, so they will have to go to Rose. All
+the maids are to have pink sashes and shoulder knots and streamers. It
+will take a sight of ribbon. But it will be something<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span> for my courting
+time, and the May dance and Pentecost. O dear, if I had a lover!"</p>
+
+<p>"Thou foolish child!" declared her mother. "Girls are never satisfied to
+be girls. And the houseful of children that come afterward!"</p>
+
+<p>Marie thought of all the children she had nursed, not her own. Yet she
+kissed little Aurel with a fond heart.</p>
+
+<p>"And Delisse&mdash;" suggested Jeanne.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Delisse is to wear the wedding gown her sisters had. It is long and
+has a beautiful train, some soft, shiny stuff over white silk, and lace
+that was on her <i>grand'mere's</i> gown in France, and satin slippers. They
+are a little tight, Delisse declares, and she will not dance in them,
+but they have beautiful buckles and great high heels. I should be afraid
+of tipping over. And then the housekeeping. All the maids go to drink
+tea the first Sunday, and turn their cups to see who gets the next
+lover."</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne gave a shrug of disdain.</p>
+
+<p>Marie bent over and whispered that she was sorry Louis Marsac had gone.
+He was so nice and amusing.</p>
+
+<p>"Is he going to wait for you, Jeanne? You know you can marry whom you
+like, you have no father. And Louis will be rich."</p>
+
+<p>"He will wait a long while then and tire of it. I do not like him any
+more." Her lips felt hot suddenly.</p>
+
+<p>"Marie, do not talk such nonsense to Jeanne. She is only a child like
+Rose, here. You girls get crack-brained about lovers."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Come," said Pani. "Let us get a pail and go after wild plums. These
+smell so good."</p>
+
+<p>"And, Pani, look if the grapes are not fit to preserve," said Madame De
+Ber. "I like the tart green taste, as well as the spice of the later
+ripeness."</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne assented. She was so glad Louis Marsac had gone. Why, when she
+had liked him so very much and been proud to order him about, and make
+him lift her over the creeks, should she experience such a great
+revulsion of feeling? Two long years! and when he returned&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"I can take Pani and run away, for I shall be a big girl then," and she
+laughed over the plan.</p>
+
+<p>What a day it was! The woods were full of fragrant odors, though here
+and there great patches had been cut and burned so as to afford no
+harbor to the Indians. Fruits grew wild, nuts abounded, and oh, the
+flowers! Jeanne liked these days in the woods, but what was there that
+she did not like? The river was an equal pleasure. Pani filled her pail
+with plums, Jeanne her arms with flowers.</p>
+
+<p>The new house of Delisse Ganeau became a great source of interest. It
+had three rooms, which was <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'considere dquite'">considered quite</ins> grand for a young couple.
+Jacques Graumont had a bedstead, a table, and a dresser that had been
+his mother's, a pair of brass candlesticks and some dishes. Her mother
+looked over her own stores, but the thriftier kind of French people put
+away now and then some plenishing for their children. She was closely
+watched lest Delisse should fare better than the other girls. Sisters
+had sharp eyes.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>There was her confession to be made, and her instruction as to the
+duties of a wife, just as if she had not seen her mother's wifely life
+all her days!</p>
+
+<p>"I like the Indian way best," cried Jeanne in a spirit of half
+contrariness. "Your husband takes you to his wigwam and you cook his
+meal, and it is all done with, and no fuss. Half Detroit is running
+wild."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no," replied Pani, amused at the child's waywardness. "I dare say
+the soldiers know nothing about it. And your great general and the
+ladies who give dinners. After all it is just a few people. And, little
+one, the Church wants these things all right. Then the husbands cannot
+run away and leave the poor wives to sit and cry."</p>
+
+<p>"I wouldn't cry," said the child with determination in her voice, and a
+color flaming up in her face.</p>
+
+<p>Yet she had come very near crying over a man who was nothing to her. She
+was feeling hurt and neglected. One day out in her dainty canoe she had
+seen a pleasure party on the river and her hero was among them. There
+were ladies in beautiful garments and flying ribbons and laces. Oh, she
+could have told him among a thousand! And he sat there so grandly,
+smiling and talking. She went home with a throbbing heart and would eat
+no supper; crawled into her little bed and thrust her face down in the
+fragrant pillow, but her fist was doubled up as if she could strike some
+one. She would not let the tears steal through her lids but kept
+swallowing over a big lump in her throat.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Mam'selle," said the tailor's wife, who was their next door neighbor,
+"yesterday, no, it was the day before when you and Pani were out&mdash;you
+know you are out so much," and she sighed to think how busily she had to
+ply her needle to suit her severe taskmaster&mdash;"there came a gentleman
+down from the Fort who was dreadfully disappointed not to find you. He
+was grand looking, with a fine white beard, and his horse was all
+trapped off with shining brass. I can't recall his name but it had a
+Saint to it."</p>
+
+<p>"St. Armand?" with a rapid breath.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, that was it. Mademoiselle, I did not know you had any such fine
+friends."</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne did not mind the carping tone.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you. I must go and tell Pani," and she skipped away, knowing that
+Pani was not in the house, but she wanted to give vent to her joy.</p>
+
+<p>She danced about the old room and her words had a delight that was like
+music. "He has not forgotten me! he has not forgotten me!" was her glad
+song. The disappointment that she had missed him came afterward.</p>
+
+<p>For although Detroit was not very large at this time, one might have
+wandered about a good deal and not seen the one person it would have
+been a pleasure to meet. And Jeanne was much more at home outside the
+palisade. The business jostling and the soldiers gave her a slight sense
+of fear and the crowding was not to her taste. She liked the broad, free
+sweep outside. And whether she had inherited a peculiar pride and
+delicacy from the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span> parents no one knew; certain it was she would put
+herself in no one's way. Others came to her, she felt then every one
+must.</p>
+
+<p>She could not have understood the many claims upon Monsieur St. Armand.
+There were days when he had to study his tablets to remember even a
+dinner engagement. He was called into council by General Wayne, he had
+to go over to the Canada side with some delicate negotiations about the
+upper part of the Territory, he was deeply interested in the opening and
+working of the copper mines, and in the American Fur Company, so it was
+hardly to be wondered at that he should forget about the little girl
+when there were so many important things.</p>
+
+<p>The wedding was not half so tiresome then. And oh, what glorious weather
+it was, just enough sharpness at night to bring out all the fragrant
+dewy smells! The far-off forests glowed like gardens of wonderful bloom
+when the sun touched them with his marvelous brilliancy. And the river
+would have been a study for an artist or a fairy pen.</p>
+
+<p>So one morning the bell of old St. Anne's rung out a cheerful peal. It
+had been rebuilt and enlarged once, but it had a quaintly venerable
+aspect. And up the aisle the troop of white clad maidens walked
+reverently and knelt before the high altar where the candles were
+burning and there was an odor of incense beside the spice of evergreens.</p>
+
+<p>The priest made a very sacred ceremony of the marriage. Jeanne listened
+in half affright. All their lives long, in sickness and health, in
+misfortune, they<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span> must never cease to love, never allow any wavering
+fancies, but go on to old age, to death itself.</p>
+
+<p>Delisse looked very happy when her veil was thrown back. And then they
+had a gala time. Friends came to see the new house and drink the bride's
+health and wish the husband good luck. And the five bridesmaids and
+their five attendants came to tea. There was much anxiety when the cups
+were turned, and blushes and giggles and exclamations, as an old Indian
+woman, who had a great reputation for foretelling, and would surely have
+been hung in the Salem witchcraft, looked them over with an air of
+mystery, and found the figure of a man with an outstretched hand, in the
+bottom of Marie De Ber's cup.</p>
+
+<p>"And she's the youngest. That isn't fair!" cried several of the girls,
+while Madelon Dace smiled serenely, for she knew when the next trappers
+came in her lover would be among them, and a speedy wedding follow.
+Marie had never walked from church with a young man.</p>
+
+<p>Then the dance in the evening! That was out of doors under the stars, in
+the court at the back of the house. The Loisel brothers came with their
+fiddles, and there was great merriment in a simple, delightful fashion,
+and several of the maids had honeyed words said to them that meant a
+good deal, and held out promises of the future. For though they took
+their religion seriously in the services of the Church, they were gay
+and light hearted, pleasure loving when the time of leisure came, or at
+festivals and marriages.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>CHAPTER V.</h2>
+
+<h3>AN UNKNOWN QUANTITY.</h3>
+
+
+<p>"There was a pretty wedding to-day in St. Anne's," said Madelon Fleury,
+glancing up at Laurent St. Armand, with soft, dark eyes. "I looked for
+you. I should have asked you formally," laughing and showing her pearly
+teeth, "but we had hardly thought of going. It was a sudden thing. And
+the bridesmaids were quite a sight."</p>
+
+<p>"There is an old English proverb," began Madame Fleury&mdash;</p>
+
+
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="Who changes her name and not the letter">
+<tr><td align='left'>"'Who changes her name and not the letter,</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Marries for worse and not the better.'</span></td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<div class='unindent'>and both names begin alike."</div>
+
+<p>"But they are French," appended Lisa, brightly. "The prediction may have
+no effect."</p>
+
+<p>"It is to be hoped it will not," commented Monsieur Fleury. "Jacques
+Graumont is a nice, industrious young fellow, and not given to drink.
+Now there will be business enough, and he is handy and expert at boat
+building, while the Ganeaus are thrifty people. M. Ganeau does a good
+business in provisioning the traders when they go north. Did you wish
+the young couple success, Madelon?"</p>
+
+<p>The girl flushed. "I do not know her. We have met the mother
+occasionally. To tell the truth, I do not enjoy this mixing up of
+traders and workmen and&mdash;" she hesitated.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"And quality," appended Lisa, with a mischievous glance at her sister.</p>
+
+<p>"We are likely to have more of it than less," said her father, gravely.
+"These Americans have some curious ideas. While they are proud enough to
+trace their ancestry back to French or English or even Italian rank,
+they taboo titles except such as are won by merit. And it must be
+confessed they have had many brave men among them, heroes animated by
+broader views than the first conquerors of the country."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," exclaimed St. Armand, "France made a great mistake and has lost
+her splendid heritage. She insisted on continuing the old world policy
+of granting court favorites whatever they asked, without studying the
+conditions of the new world. Then England pinned her faith and plans to
+a military colonization that should emanate from a distant throne. It is
+true she gave a larger liberty, a religious liberty, and exploited the
+theory of homes instead of mere trading posts. The American has improved
+on all this. It is as if he said, 'I will conquer the new world by force
+of industry; there shall be equal rights to homes, to labor, to'&mdash;there
+is a curious and delightful sounding sentence in their Declaration,
+which is a sort of corner stone&mdash;'life, liberty, and pursuit of
+happiness.' One man's idea of happiness is quite different from
+another's, however;" smiling.</p>
+
+<p>"And there will be clashing. There is much to do, and time alone can
+tell whether they will work out the problem."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"They seem to blend different peoples. There is the Puritan in the East,
+who is allowing his prejudices to soften; there are the Dutch, about the
+towns on the Hudson, the Friends in Pennsylvania, the proud old
+cavaliers in Virginia and Carolina."</p>
+
+<p>"And the Indians, who will ever hate them! The French settlements at the
+West, up and down the mighty river, who will never forget La Salle,
+Tonti, Cadillac, and the De Bienvilles. There's a big work yet to do."</p>
+
+<p>"I think they will do it," returned St. Armand, his eyes kindling. "With
+such men as your brave, conciliatory General Wayne, a path is opened for
+a more reasonable agreement."</p>
+
+<p>"You cannot trust the Indians. I think the French have understood them
+better, and made them more friendly. In many respects they are children,
+in others almost giants where they consider themselves wronged. And it
+is a nice question, how much rights they have in the soil."</p>
+
+<p>"It has been a question since the world began. Were not the children of
+Israel commanded to drive the Canaanites out of their own land? Did not
+the Romans carry conquests all over Europe? And the Spaniard here, who
+has been driven out for his cruelty and rapacity. The world question is
+a great tree at which many nations have a hack, and some of them get
+only the unripe fruit as the branches fall. But the fruit matures
+slowly, and some one will gather it in the end, that is certain."</p>
+
+<p>"But has not the Indian a right to his happiness,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span> to his liberty?" said
+Laurent, rather mischievously. He had been chaffing with the girls, yet
+listening to the talk of the elders.</p>
+
+<p>"In Indian ethics might makes right as elsewhere. They murder and
+destroy each other; some tribes have been almost wiped out and sold for
+slaves, as these Pawnee people. Depend upon it they will never take
+kindly to civilization. A few have intermarried, and though there is
+much romance about Rolfe and his Indian princess, St. Castin and his,
+they are more apt to affiliate with the Indians in the next generation."</p>
+
+<p>"My young man who was so ready to fight was a half-breed, I heard," said
+Laurent. "His French father is quite an important fur trader, I learned.
+Yet the young fellow has been lounging round for the past three months,
+lying in the sun outside the stockade, flirting and making love alike to
+Indian and French maids, and haunting Jogue's place down on the river.
+Though, for that <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'mattter'">matter</ins>, it seems to be headquarters for fur traders. A
+handsome fellow, too. Why has he not the pride of the French?"</p>
+
+<p>"Such marriages are a disgrace to the nation," said Madame Fleury,
+severely.</p>
+
+<p>"And that recalls to my mind,&mdash;" St. Armand paused with a retrospective
+smile, thinking of the compliment his little friend had paid him,&mdash;"to
+inquire if you know anything about a child who lives not far from the
+lower citadel, in the care of an Indian woman. Her name is Jeanne
+Angelot."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The girls glanced at each other with a little curl of the lip as St.
+Armand's eyes wandered around.</p>
+
+<p>"My father met her at the flag-raising and was charmed with her eyes and
+her ignorance," said Laurent, rather flippantly.</p>
+
+<p>"If I were going to become a citizen of Detroit I should interest myself
+in this subject of education. It is sinful to allow so many young people
+to grow up in ignorance," declared the elder St. Armand.</p>
+
+<p>"Most of our girls of the better class are sent to Montreal or Quebec,"
+exclaimed Madame Fleury. "The English have governesses. And there is the
+Recollet school; there may be places outside the stockade."</p>
+
+<p>Monsieur Fleury shook his head uncertainly. "Angelot, Angelot," he
+repeated. "I do not know the name."</p>
+
+<p>"Father Gilbert or Father Rameau might know. Are these Angelots
+Catholics?"</p>
+
+<p>"There is only one little girl."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!" a light broke over Madame's face. "I think I can recall an event.
+Husband, you know the little child the Bellestres had?"</p>
+
+<p>"I do not remember," shaking his head.</p>
+
+<p>"It was found queerly. They had a slave who became its nurse. The
+Bellestres were Huguenots, but Madame had a leaning toward the Church
+and the child was baptized. Madame Bellestre, who was a lovely woman,
+deferred to her husband until she was dying, when Father Rameau was sent
+for and she acknowledged that she died in the holy faith. There<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span> was
+some talk about the child, but M. Bellestre claimed it and cares for it.
+Under the English reign, you know, the good fathers had not so much
+authority."</p>
+
+<p>"Where can I find this Father Rameau?"</p>
+
+<p>"At the house beside the church. It is headquarters for the priests who
+come and go. A delightful old man is the father, though I could wish at
+times he would exercise a little more authority and make a stand for our
+rights. I sometimes fear we shall be quite pushed to the wall."</p>
+
+<p>St. Armand had come of a long line of Huguenots more than one of whom
+had suffered for his faith. He was a liberal now, studying up religion
+from many points, but he was too gallant to discuss it with a lady and
+his hostess.</p>
+
+<p>The young people were getting restive. It was just the night for
+delightful canoeing on the river and it had been broached in the
+afternoon. Marie the maid, quite a superior woman, was often intrusted
+with this kind of companionship. Before they were ready to start a young
+neighbor came in who joined them.</p>
+
+<p>Monsieur Fleury invited his guest to an end porch shaded by a profusion
+of vines, notable among them the sweetbrier, that gave out a fragrant
+incense on the night air. Even here they could catch sounds of the music
+from the river parties, for the violin and a young French habitan were
+almost inseparable.</p>
+
+<p>"Nay," he replied, "though a quiet smoke tempts the self-indulgent side
+of my nature. But I want to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span> see the priest. I am curiously interested
+in this child."</p>
+
+<p>"There were some whispers about her, Monsieur, that one does not mention
+before young people. One was that she had Indian blood in her veins,
+and&mdash;" here Madame Fleury lowered her voice almost to a whisper,&mdash;"and
+that Madame Bellestre, who was very much of the <i>haute noblesse</i>, should
+be so ready to take in a strange child, and that M. Bellestre should
+keep his sort of guardianship over her and provide for her. Some of the
+talk comes back to me. There have been many questionable things done we
+older people know."</p>
+
+<p>St. Armand gave an assenting nod. Then he asked himself what there was
+about the child that should interest one so much, recalling her pretty
+eager compliment that he resembled a king, or her vague idea of one.</p>
+
+<p>His dinner dress set him off to a fine advantage. It was much in the old
+French fashion&mdash;the long waistcoat of flowered satin and velvet with its
+jeweled buttons; the ruffled shirt front, the high stock, the lace cuffs
+about the hand, the silken small clothes and stockings. And when he was
+dressed in furs with fringed deerskin leggings and a beaver cap above
+the waving brown hair, with his snowy beard and pink cheeks, and his
+blue eyes, he was a goodly picture as well.</p>
+
+<p>The priest's house was easily found. The streets were full of people in
+the early evening, for in this pleasant weather it was much more
+refreshing out of door than in. The smells of furs and skins lin<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span>gered
+in the atmosphere, and a few days of good strong wind was a godsend. The
+doorways were full, women caressing their babies and chanting low
+lullabies; while elsewhere a pretty young girl hung over the lower half
+of the door and laughed with an admirer while her mother sat drowsing
+just within.</p>
+
+<p>A tidy old woman, in coif and white apron over her black gown, bowed her
+head as she answered his question. The good father was in. Would the
+stranger walk this way?</p>
+
+<p>P&egrave;re Rameau was crossing the hall. In the dim light, a stone basin
+holding oil after the fashion of a Greek lamp, the wick floating on top,
+the priest glanced up at his visitor. Both had passed each other in the
+street and hardly needed an introduction.</p>
+
+<p>"I hope I have not disturbed you in any way," began M. St. Armand in an
+attractive tone that gained a listener at once. "I have come to talk
+over a matter that has a curious interest for me, and I am told you have
+the key, if not to the mystery exactly, to some of the links. I hope you
+will not consider me intrusive."</p>
+
+<p>"I shall be glad to give you any information that is possible. I am not
+a politician, Monsieur, and have been trained not to speak evil of those
+appointed to rule over us."</p>
+
+<p>He was a tall, spare man with a face that even in the wrinkles and
+thinness of age, and perhaps a little asceticism, was sweet and calm,
+and the brown eyes were soft, entreating. Clean shaven, the chin showed
+narrow, but the mouth redeemed it. He wore the black<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span> cassock of the
+Recollets, the waist girded by a cord from which was suspended a cross
+and a book of devotions.</p>
+
+<p>"Then if it is a serious talk, come hither. There may be a little smoke
+in the air&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I am a smoker myself," said St. Armand cordially.</p>
+
+<p>"Then you may not object to a pipe. I have some most excellent tobacco.
+I bethink me sometimes that it is not a habit of self-sacrifice, but the
+fragrance is delightful and it soothes the nerves."</p>
+
+<p>The room was rather long, and somewhat narrow. At the far end there was
+a small altar and a <i>prie dieu</i>. A candle was burning and its light
+defined the ivory crucifix above. In the corner a curtained something
+that might be a confessional. Indeed, not a few startling confessions
+had been breathed there. An escritoire with some shelves above,
+curiously carved, that bespoke its journey across the sea, took a great
+wall space and seemed almost to divide the room. The window in the front
+end was quite wide, and the shutters were thrown open for air, though a
+coarse curtain fell in straight folds from the top. Here was a
+commodious desk accommodating papers and books, a small table with pipes
+and tobacco, two wooden chairs and a more comfortable one which the
+priest proffered to the guest.</p>
+
+<p>"Shall we have a light? Marcel, bring a candle."</p>
+
+<p>"Nay," protested the visitor, "I enjoy this dimness. One seems more
+inclined to talk, though I think I have heard a most excellent reason
+educed for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span> such a course;" and a mirthful twinkle shone in his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>The priest laughed softly. "It is hardly applicable here. I sat
+thinking. The sun has been so brilliant for days that the night brings
+comfort. You are a stranger here, Monsieur?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, though it is not my first visit to Detroit. I have gone from New
+York to Michilimackinac several times, to Montreal, Quebec, to France
+and back, though I was born there. I am the guest of Monsieur Fleury."</p>
+
+<p>The priest made an approving inclination of the head.</p>
+
+<p>"One sees many strange things. You have a conglomerate, P&egrave;re Rameau. And
+now a new&mdash;shall I say ruler?"</p>
+
+<p>"That is the word, Monsieur. And I hope it may last as long as the
+English reign. We cannot pray for the success of La Belle France any
+more."</p>
+
+<p>"France has her own hard battles to fight. Yet it makes one a little sad
+to think of the splendid heritage that has slipped from her hands, for
+which her own discoverers and priests gave up their lives. Still, she
+has been proved unworthy of her great trust. I, as a Frenchman, say it
+with sorrow."</p>
+
+<p>"You are a churchman, Monsieur?"</p>
+
+<p>"A Christian, I hope. For several generations we have been on the other
+side. But I am not unmindful of good works or good lives."</p>
+
+<p>P&egrave;re Rameau bowed his head.</p>
+
+<p>"What I wished to talk about was a little girl,"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span> St. Armand began,
+after a pause. "Jeanne Angelot, I have heard her called."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, Monsieur, you know something about her, then?" returned the priest,
+eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>"No, I wish I did. I have crossed her path a time or two, though I can't
+tell just why she interests me. She is bright, vivacious, but curiously
+ignorant. Why does she live with this Indian woman and run wild?"</p>
+
+<p>"I cannot tell any further than it seems M. Bellestre's strange whim.
+All I know of the child is Pani's story. The De Longueils went to France
+and the Bellestres took their house. Pani had been given her freedom,
+but remained with the new owners. She was a very useful woman, but
+subject to curious spells of longing for her olden friends. Sometimes
+she would disappear for days, spending the time among the Indian squaws
+outside the stockade. She was there one evening when this child was
+dropped in her lap by a young Indian woman. Touchas, the woman she was
+staying with, corroborates the story. The child was two years or more
+old, and talked French; cried at first for her 'maman.' Madame Bellestre
+insisted that Pani should bring the child to her. She had lost a little
+one by death about the same age. She supposed at first that some one
+would claim it, but no one ever did. Then she brought the child to me
+and had it christened by the name on the card, Jeanne Angelot. Madame
+had a longing for the ministrations of the Church, but her husband was
+opposed. In her last illness he consented. He loved<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span> her very dearly. I
+think he was afraid of the influence of a priest, but he need not have
+been. She gave me all the things belonging to the child, and I promised
+to yield them up to the one who claimed her, or Jeanne herself when she
+was eighteen, or on her wedding day when she was married. Her husband
+promised to provide for the child as long as she needed it. He was very
+fond of her, too."</p>
+
+<p>"And was there no suspicion?" St. Armand hesitated.</p>
+
+<p>The pale face betrayed a little warmth and the slim fingers clasped each
+other.</p>
+
+<p>"I understand, Monsieur. There was and I told him of it. With his hand
+on God's word he declared that he knew no more about her than Pani's
+story, and that he had loved his wife too well for his thoughts ever to
+stray elsewhere. He was an honest, upright man and I believe him. He
+planned at first to take the child to New Orleans, but Mademoiselle, who
+was about fourteen, objected strenuously. She <i>was</i> jealous of her
+father's love for the child. M. Bellestre was a large, fair man with
+auburn hair and hazel eyes, generous, kindly, good-tempered. The child
+is dark, and has a passionate nature, beats her playmates if they offend
+her, though it is generally through some cruel thing they have done. She
+has noble qualities but there never has been any training. Yet every one
+has a good word for her and a warm side. I do not think the child would
+tell a lie or take what did not belong to her. She would give all she
+had sooner."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"You interest me greatly. But would it not be wiser for her to have a
+better home and different training? Does M. Bellestre consent to have
+her grow up in ignorance?"</p>
+
+<p>"I have proposed she and Pani should come to the Recollet house. We have
+classes, you know, and there are orphan children. Several times we have
+coaxed her in, but it was disastrous. She set our classes in an uproar.
+The sister put her in a room by herself and she jumped out of the window
+and threatened to run away to the woods if she were sent again. M.
+Bellestre thinks to come to Detroit sometime, when it will be settled no
+doubt. His daughter is married now. He may take Jeanne back with him."</p>
+
+<p>"That would be a blessing. But she has an eager mind and now we are
+learning that a broader education is necessary. It seems a pity&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Monsieur, there are only two lines that seem important for a woman. One
+is the training to make her a good wife and mother, and in new countries
+this is much needed. It is simplicity and not worldly arrogance,
+obedience and not caviling; first as a daughter, then as a wife. To
+guide the house, prepare the meals, teach her children the holy truths
+of the Church, and this is all God will require of her. The other is to
+devote her whole life to God's work, but not every one has this gift.
+And she who bears children obeys God's mandate and will have her
+reward."</p>
+
+<p>"Whether the world is round or square," thought<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span> the Sieur St. Armand,
+but he was too courteous even to smile. Jeanne Angelot would need a
+wider life than this, and, if unduly narrowed, would spring over the
+traces.</p>
+
+<p>"You think M. Bellestre means to come?"</p>
+
+<p>"He has put it off to next year now. There is so much unrest and
+uncertainty all over the country, that at present he cannot leave his
+business."</p>
+
+<p>St. Armand sighed softly, thinking of Jeanne.</p>
+
+<p>"Would you show the clothes and the trinkets?"</p>
+
+<p>"O yes, Monsieur, to a person like you, but not to the idly curious.
+Indeed, for that matter, they have been mostly forgotten. So many things
+have happened to distract attention."</p>
+
+<p>He rose and went to the old escritoire. Unlocking a drawer he took out a
+parcel folded in a piece of cloth.</p>
+
+<p>"The clothes she wore," he said, "even to the little shoes of deerskin.
+There is nothing special about them to denote that she was the child of
+a rich person."</p>
+
+<p>That was very true, St. Armand saw, except that the little stockings
+were fine and bore the mark of imported goods. He mused over them.</p>
+
+<p>The priest opened a small, oblong box that still had the scent of snuff
+about it. On it was the name of Bellestre. So that was no clew.</p>
+
+<p>"Here is the necklet and the little ring and the paper with her name.
+Madame Bellestre placed these in my hand some time before she died."</p>
+
+<p>The chain was slender and of gold, the locket small;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span> inside two painted
+miniatures but very diminutive, and both of them young. One would hardly
+be able to identify a middle aged person from them. There was no mark or
+initials, save an undecipherable monogram.</p>
+
+<p>"It is a pity there are no more chances of identification," St. Armand
+said. "This and the stockings come from France. And if the poor mother
+was dead&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"There are so many orphans, Monsieur. Kind people take them in. I know
+of some who have been restored to their families. It is my dream to
+gather them in one home and train them to useful lives. It may come if
+we have peace for a while."</p>
+
+<p>"She has a trusty guardian in you."</p>
+
+<p>"If I could decide her fate, Monsieur. Truly she is a child of the
+Church, but she is wild and would revolt at any abridgment of her
+liberty. We may win her by other means. Pani is a Christian woman though
+with many traits of Indian character, some of the best of them,"
+smiling. "It cannot be that the good Father above will allow any of his
+examples to be of none effect. Pani watches over her closely and loves
+her with untiring devotion. She firmly upholds M. Bellestre's right and
+believes he will return. The money to support them is sent to M. Loisel,
+the notary, and he is not a churchman. It is a pity so many of out brave
+old fathers should die for the faith and the children not be gathered in
+one fold. In Father Bonaventure's time it was not so, but the English
+had not come."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The good priest sighed and began folding up the articles.</p>
+
+<p>"Father Gilbert believes in a stricter rule. But most of the people have
+years of habit that they put in the place of faith. Yet they are a good,
+kindly people, and they need some pleasures to compensate for their hard
+lives. They are gay and light-hearted as you have no doubt seen, but
+many of them are tinctured with Indian superstitions as well. Then for a
+month, when the fur traders come in, there is much drinking and
+disorder. There have been many deep-rooted prejudices. My nation cannot
+forgive the English for numberless wrongs. We could always have been
+friends with the Indians when they understood that we meant to deal
+fairly by them. And we were to blame for supplying them with fire water,
+justly so called. The fathers saw this and fought against it a century
+ago. Even the Sieur Cadillac tried to restrict them, though he did not
+approve the Jesuits. Monsieur, as you may have seen, the Frenchman
+drinks a little with the social tendency of his race, the Indian for the
+sake of wild expansion. He is a grand hero to himself, then, ready for a
+war dance, for fighting, cruelty, rapine, and revenge. I hope the new
+nation will understand better how to deal with them. They are the true
+children of the forest and the wilderness. I suppose in time they would
+even destroy each other."</p>
+
+<p>St. Armand admitted to himself that it was hard to push them farther to
+the cold, inhospitable north, which would soon be the only hunting
+ground left<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span> them unless the unknown West opened a future resource.</p>
+
+<p>"They are a strange race. Yet there have been many fierce peoples on our
+earth that have proved themselves amenable to civilization."</p>
+
+<p>"Let us hope for better times and a more lasting peace. Prejudices die
+out in a few generations." Then he rose. "I thank you sincerely for your
+kindness, father, and hope you will be prospered in your good work, and
+in the oversight of the child."</p>
+
+<p>"You are not to remain&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>St. Armand smiled. "I have much business on my hands. There are many
+treaty points to define and settle. I go to Washington; I may go to
+France. But I wish you all prosperity under the new government."</p>
+
+<p>The priest bowed.</p>
+
+<p>"And you will do your best for the child?"</p>
+
+<p>"Whatever I am allowed to do, Monsieur."</p>
+
+<p>There was still much soreness about religious matters. The English
+laxity had led to too much liberty, to doubting, even.</p>
+
+<p>They bade each other a cordial adieu, with hopes of meeting again.</p>
+
+<p>"Strange there should be so many interested in the child," St. Armand
+mused. "And she goes her own way serenely."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>CHAPTER VI.</h2>
+
+<h3>IN WHICH JEANNE BOWS HER HEAD.</h3>
+
+
+<p>General Anthony Wayne was a busy man for the next few weeks, though he
+was full of tireless activity to his finger tips. There was much to be
+done in the town that was old already and had seen three different
+r&eacute;gimes. English people were packing their worldly goods and starting
+for Canada. Some of the French were going to the farther western
+settlements. Barracks were overhauled, the palisades strengthened, the
+Fort put in a better state of defense. For there were threats that the
+English might return. There were roving bands of Indians to the north
+and west, ready to be roused to an attack by disaffected French or
+English.</p>
+
+<p>But the industrious inhabitants plied their vocations unmindful of
+change of rulers. Boat loads of emigrants came in. Stores of all kinds
+were dumped upon the wharf. The red painted windmills flew like great
+birds in the air, though some of the habitans kept to their little home
+hand mill, whose two revolving stones needed a great expenditure of
+strength and ground but coarsely. You saw women spinning in doorways
+that they might nod to passers-by or chat with a neighbor who had time
+to spare.</p>
+
+<p>The children played about largely on the outside of the palisade. There
+were waving fields of maize<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span> that farmers had watched with fear and
+trembling and now surveyed with pride. Other grains were being
+cultivated. Estates were staked out, new log houses were erected, some
+much more pretentious ones with great stone chimneys.</p>
+
+<p>Yet people found time for pleasure. There were canoe loads of merry
+girls going down or up the river, adroitly keeping out of the way of the
+larger craft and sending laughing replies to the chaff of the boatmen.
+And the evenings were mostly devoted to pleasure, with much music and
+singing. For it was not all work then.</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne roamed at her own wayward will, oftenest within the inclosure
+with Pani by the hand. The repairs going on interested her. The new
+soldiers in their Continental blue and buff, most of it soiled and worn,
+presented quite a contrast to the red and gold of the English to which
+their eyes had become so accustomed. Now and then some one spoke
+respectfully to her; there was much outward deference paid to women even
+if the men were some of them tyrants within.</p>
+
+<p>And Jeanne asked questions in her own fearless fashion. She had picked
+up some English and by dint of both languages could make herself
+understood.</p>
+
+<p>"Well?" exclaimed a young lieutenant who had been overseeing some work
+and cleaning up at the barracks, turning a smiling and amused face
+towards her, "well, Mademoiselle, how do you like us&mdash;your new
+masters?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Are you going to be masters here for long? Are you sure the English
+will not come back?"</p>
+
+<p>She raised her head proudly and her eyes flashed.</p>
+
+<p>"It looks as if we might stay," he answered.</p>
+
+<p>"You will not be everybody's master. You will not be mine."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, no. What I meant was the government. Individuals you know have
+always a certain liberty."</p>
+
+<p>She wondered a little what individuals were. Ah, if one could know a
+good deal! Something was stirring within her and it gave her a sort of
+pain, perplexing her as well.</p>
+
+<p>What a bright curious face it was with the big eyes that looked out so
+straightforwardly!</p>
+
+<p>"You are French, Mam'selle, or&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Am I like an Indian?"</p>
+
+<p>She stood up straight and seemed two or three inches taller. He turned a
+sudden scarlet as he studied the mop of black curling hair, the long
+lashes, through which her eyes glittered, the brown skin that was sun
+kissed rather than of a copper tint, the shapely figure, and small hands
+that looked as if they might grasp and hold on.</p>
+
+<p>"No, Mam'selle, I think you are not." Then he looked at Pani. "You live
+here?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, not far away. Pani is my&mdash;oh, I do not know what you call
+it&mdash;guard, nurse, but I am a big girl now and do not need a nurse.
+Monsieur, I think I am French. But I dropped from the clouds one evening
+and I can't remember the land before that."</p>
+
+<p>The soldier stared, but not impertinently.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Mam'selle, I hope you will like us, since we have come to stay."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, do not feel too sure. The French drove out the Indians, the English
+conquered the French, and they went away&mdash;many of them. And you have
+driven out the English. Where will the next people come from?"</p>
+
+<p>"The next people?" in surprise.</p>
+
+<p>"The people to drive you out." She laughed softly.</p>
+
+<p>"We will not be driven out."</p>
+
+<p>"Are you as strong as that?"</p>
+
+<p>"Mam'selle, we have conquered the English from Maine to the Carolinas,
+and to the Mississippi river. We shall do all the rest sometime."</p>
+
+<p>"I think I shall be an American. I like people who are strong and can
+never be beaten."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course you will have to be an American. And you must learn to speak
+English well."</p>
+
+<p>"Monsieur," with much dignity, "if you are so grand why do you not have
+a language of your own?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because"&mdash;he was about to say&mdash;"we were English in the beginning," but
+the sharp, satirical curves lurking around her mouth checked him. What
+an odd, piquant creature she was!</p>
+
+<p>"Come away," and Pani pulled her hand. "You talk too much to people and
+make M'sieu idle."</p>
+
+<p>"O Pani!" She gave an exultant cry and sprang away, then stopped short.
+For it was not only her friend, but a number of gentlemen in military
+attire and mounted on horses with gay trappings.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Monsieur St. Armand waved his hand to her. She shrank back and caught
+Pani's gown.</p>
+
+<p>"It is General Wayne," said the lieutenant, and paid him something more
+than the demands of superior rank, for admiration was in his eyes and
+Jeanne noticed it.</p>
+
+<p>"My little friend," said St. Armand, leaning down toward Jeanne, "I am
+glad to see you again." He turned a trifle. The general and his aids
+were on a tour of inspection, and now the brave soldier leaped from the
+saddle, giving the child a glance.</p>
+
+<p>"I have been coming to find you," began Monsieur. "I have many things to
+say to your attendant. Especially as in a few days I go away."</p>
+
+<p>"O Monsieur, is it because you do not like&mdash;" her eyes followed the
+general's suite.</p>
+
+<p>"It is because I like them so well. I go to their capital on some
+business, and then to France. But I shall return in a year, perhaps. A
+year is not very long."</p>
+
+<p>"Just a winter and a summer. There are many of them to life?"</p>
+
+<p>"To some lives, yes. I hope there will be to yours, happy ones."</p>
+
+<p>"I am always happy when I can run about or sail on the river. There are
+so many delightful things when no one bothers you."</p>
+
+<p>"And the bothers are, I suppose, when some one considers your way not
+the best for you. We all meet with such things in life."</p>
+
+<p>"My own way is the best," she replied, willfully,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span> a daring light
+shining in her eyes. "Do I not know what gives me the most pleasure? If
+I want to go out and sing with the birds or run mad races with the dogs,
+or play with the children outside, that is the thing which gives me joy
+and makes my blood rush warm and bright in my veins. Monsieur, I told
+you I did not like to be shut up."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, well. Remain in your little cottage this afternoon, and let me
+come and talk to you. I think I will not make you unhappy."</p>
+
+<p>"Your voice is so sweet, Monsieur, but if you say disagreeable things,
+if you want me to learn to sew and to read&mdash;and to spin&mdash;the De Bers
+have just had a spinning wheel come. It is a queer thing and hums
+strangely. And Marie will learn to spin, her mother says. Then she will
+never be able to go in the woods for wild grapes and nuts. No, I cannot
+spend my time being so busy. And I do not care for stockings. Leggings
+are best for winter. And Touchas makes me moccasins."</p>
+
+<p>Her feet and ankles were bare now. Dainty and shapely they were, and
+would have done for models.</p>
+
+<p>"Monsieur, the soft grass and the warm sand is so pleasant to one's
+feet. I am glad I am not a grand lady to wear clumsy shoes. Why, I could
+not run."</p>
+
+<p>St. Armand laughed. He had never seen such a free, wild, human thing
+rejoicing exultantly in its liberty. It seemed almost a shame to capture
+her&mdash;like caging a bird. But she could not always be a child.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>General Wayne had made his round and given some orders, and now he
+reappeared.</p>
+
+<p>"I want to present you to this little girl of Detroit," began M. St.
+Armand, "so that in years to come, when she hears of all your exploits,
+she will be proud that she had the honor. Jeanne Angelot is the small
+maid's name. And this is our brave General Wayne, who has persuaded the
+Indians to peace and amity, and taught the English to keep their word.
+But he can fight as well as talk."</p>
+
+<p>"Monsieur, when they gave you welcome, I did not think you looked grand
+enough for a great general. But when I come near by I see you are brave
+and strong and determined. I honor you, Monsieur. I am glad you are to
+rule Detroit."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you, my little maid. I hope Detroit will become a great city, and
+that you may live many years in it, and be very happy."</p>
+
+<p>She made a courtesy with free, exquisite grace. General Wayne leaped
+into his saddle and waved his hand.</p>
+
+<p>"What an odd and charming child," he remarked to St. Armand. "No woman
+of society could have been more graceful and less abashed, and few would
+own up change of opinion with such na&iuml;ve sweetness. Of course she is a
+child of the people?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am interested in learning who she really is;" and St. Armand repeated
+what he knew of her story.</p>
+
+<p>"Her mother may have been killed by the Indians. There will be many a
+sad romance linked in with our early history, Sieur St. Armand."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>As for Jeanne Angelot, many a time in after years she recalled her
+meeting with the brave general, and no one dreamed then that his
+brilliant career was to end so soon. Until November he held the post,
+repairing fortifications, promulgating new laws, redressing abuses,
+soothing the disaffected and, as far as he could, studying the best
+interests of the town. In November he started for the East, but at
+Presque Isle was seized with a fatal malady which ended his useful and
+energetic career, and proved a great loss to the country.</p>
+
+<p>Monsieur St. Armand was late in keeping his word. There had been many
+things pressing on his attention and consideration. Jeanne had been very
+restless. A hundred desires flew to her mind like birds on the wing.
+Never had there seemed so many charms outside of the walls. She ran down
+to see Marie at the new spinning wheel. Madame De Ber had not used one
+in a long time and was a little awkward.</p>
+
+<p>"When I have Marie well trained I think I will take thee in hand," she
+said, rather severely. "Thou wilt soon be a big girl and then a maiden
+who should be laying by some garments and blankets and household gear.
+And thou canst not even knit."</p>
+
+<p>"But why should I? There are no brothers and sisters, and Wenonah is
+glad to make garments for me. Though I think M. Bellestre's money pays
+for them. And Touchas sends such nice fur things."</p>
+
+<p>"I should be ashamed to have other people work while I climbed trees and
+ran about with Indian chil<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span>dren. Though it is half suspected they are
+kin to thee. But the French part should rule."</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne threw up her head with a proud gesture.</p>
+
+<p>"I should not mind. I often feel that they must be. They like liberty,
+so do I. We are like birds and wild deer."</p>
+
+<p>Then the child ran back before any reply could be made. Yet she was not
+as indifferent as she seemed. She had not minded it until lately, but
+now when it came in this sort of taunt she could not tell why a
+remembrance of Louis Marsac should rise before her. After all, what did
+a little Indian blood matter? Many a girl smiled on Louis Marsac, for
+they knew his father was a rich fur trader. Was it the riches that
+counted?</p>
+
+<p>"He will not come," she said half angrily to Pani. "The big ladies are
+very proud to have him. They wear fine clothes that come from France,
+and they can smile and Madame Fleury has a harp her daughters play upon.
+But they might be content with the young men."</p>
+
+<p>"It is not late yet," trying to console her darling.</p>
+
+<p>"Pani, I shall go outside the gates. I am so tired. I want to run races
+to get my breath. It stops just as it does when the fog is in the air."</p>
+
+<p>"No, child, stay here a little longer. It would be sad to miss him. And
+he is going away."</p>
+
+<p>"Let him go. I think all men are a great trouble! You wait and wait for
+them. Then, if you go away they are sure to come."</p>
+
+<p>Pani laughed. The child was brimming over with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span> unreason. Yet her eyes
+were like stars, and in an uncomprehended way the woman felt the charm
+of her beauty. No, she would never part with her.</p>
+
+<p>"O Pani!" The child sprang up and executed a <i>pas seul</i> worthy of a
+larger audience. Her first impulse was to run to meet him. Then she
+suddenly subsided from some inexplicable cause, and a flush came to her
+cheek as she dropped down on a seat beside the doorway, made of the
+round of a log, and folded her hands demurely, looking out to the
+barracks.</p>
+
+<p>Of course she turned when she heard the steps. There was a grave
+expression on her face, charming innocence that would have led anyone
+astray.</p>
+
+<p>Pani rose and made an obeisance, and brought forward a chair.</p>
+
+<p>"Or would Monsieur rather go in doors?" she inquired.</p>
+
+<p>"O no. Little one&mdash;" he held out his hand.</p>
+
+<p>"I thought you had forgotten. It is late," she said plaintively.</p>
+
+<p>"I am a busy man, my child. I could wish for a little of the freedom
+that you rejoice in so exuberantly, though I dare say I shall have
+enough on my journey."</p>
+
+<p>What a companion this gay, chattering child would be, going through new
+scenes!</p>
+
+<p>"Mademoiselle, are you ever serious? Or are you too young to take
+thought of to-morrow?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am always planning for to-morrow, am I not, Pani? And if it rains I
+do not mind, but go the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span> same, except that it is not always safe on the
+river, which sometimes seems as if the giant monster of the deep was
+sailing about in it."</p>
+
+<p>"There is another kind of seriousness, my child, and a thought of the
+future that is not mere pleasure. You will outgrow this gay childhood.
+You may even find it necessary to go to some other country. There may be
+friends awaiting you that you know nothing of now. You would no doubt
+like to have them pleased with you, proud of you. And for this and true
+living you need some training. You must learn to read, to speak English,
+and you will find great pleasure in it. Then you will enjoy talking to
+older people. You see you will be older yourself."</p>
+
+<p>His eyes were fixed steadily on hers and would not allow them to waver.
+She felt the power of the stronger mind.</p>
+
+<p>"I have been talking with M. Bellestre's notary. He thinks you should go
+to school. There are to be some schools started as soon as the autumn
+opens. You know you wanted to learn why the world was round, and about
+the great continent of Europe and a hundred interesting subjects."</p>
+
+<p>"But, Monsieur, it is mostly prayers. I do not so much mind Sunday, for
+then there are people to see. But to have it every day&mdash;and the same
+things over and over&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>She gave a yawn that was half ridiculous grimace.</p>
+
+<p>"Prayers, are very good, Mam'selle. While I am away I want you to pray
+for me that sometime God will bring me back safe and allow me to see
+you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span> again. And I shall say when I see the sun rising on the other side
+of the world, 'It is night now in old Detroit and there is a little girl
+praying for me.'"</p>
+
+<p>"O Monsieur, would you be glad?" Her eyes were suffused with a mistlike
+joy. "Then I will pray for you. That is so different from praying for
+people you don't know anything about, and to&mdash;to saints. I don't know
+them either. I feel as if they sat in long rows and just nodded to you."</p>
+
+<p>"Pray to the good God, my child," he returned gravely. "And if you learn
+to read and write you might send me a letter."</p>
+
+<p>Her eyes opened wide in amazement. "Oh, I could never learn enough for
+that!" she cried despairingly.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, you can, you will. M. Loisel will arrange it for you. And twice a
+week you will go to the sisters, I have promised Father Rameau. There
+will be plenty of time to run and play besides."</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne Angelot looked steadily down on the ground. A caterpillar was
+dragging its length along and she touched it with her foot.</p>
+
+<p>"It was once a butterfly. It will spin itself up in a web and hang
+somewhere all winter, and in the spring turn to a butterfly again."</p>
+
+<p>"That ugly thing!" in intense surprise.</p>
+
+<p>"And how the trees drop their leaves in the autumn and their buds are
+done up in a brown sheath until the spring sunshine softens it and the
+tiny green leaf comes out, and why the birds go to warmer countries,
+because they cannot stand snow and sleet,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span> and return again; why the bee
+shuts himself up in the hollow tree and sleeps, and a hundred beautiful
+things. And when I come back we will talk them over."</p>
+
+<p>"O Monsieur!" Her rose lips quivered and the dimple in her chin deepened
+as she drew a long breath that stirred every pulse of her being.</p>
+
+<p>He had touched the right chord, awakened a new life within her. There
+was a struggle, yet he liked her the better for not giving up her
+individuality in a moment.</p>
+
+<p>"Monsieur," she exclaimed with a new humility, "I will try&mdash;indeed I
+will."</p>
+
+<p>"That is a brave girl. M. Loisel will attend to the matter. And you will
+be very happy after a while. It will come hard at first, but you must be
+courageous and persevering. And now I must say good-by for a long while.
+Pani I know will take excellent care of you."</p>
+
+<p>He rose and shook hands with the woman, whose eyes were full of love for
+the child of her adoption. Then he took both of Jeanne's little brown
+hands in his and pressed them warmly.</p>
+
+<p>She watched him as he threaded his way through the narrow street and
+turned the corner. Then she rushed into the house and threw herself on
+the small pallet, sobbing as if her heart would break. No one for whom
+she cared had ever gone out of her life before. With Pani there was
+complete ownership, but Monsieur St. Armand was a new experience.
+Neither had she really loved her playmates, she had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span> found them all so
+different from herself. Next to Pani stood Wenonah and the grave
+brown-faced babies who tumbled about the floor when they were not
+fastened to their birch bark canoe cradle with a flat end balancing it
+against the wall. She sometimes kissed them, they were so quaint and
+funny.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Ma mie, ma mie</i>, let me take thee to my bosom," Pani pleaded. "He will
+return again as he said, for he keeps his word. And thou wilt be a big
+girl and know many things, and he will be proud of thee. And M.
+Bellestre may come."</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne's sobs grew less. She had been thrust so suddenly into a new
+world of tender emotion that she was frightened. She did not want to go
+out again, and sat watching Pani as she made some delicious broth out of
+fresh green corn, that was always a great treat to the child.</p>
+
+<p>It was true there was a new stir in the atmosphere of old Detroit. For
+General Wayne with the prescience of an able and far-sighted patriot had
+said, "To make good citizens they must learn the English language and
+there must be schools. Education will be the corner stone of this new
+country."</p>
+
+<p>Governor St. Clair had a wide territory to look after. There were many
+unsettled questions about land and boundaries and proper laws. New
+settlements were projected, but Detroit was left to adjust many
+questions for itself. A school was organized where English and various
+simple branches should be taught. It was opposed by Father Gilbert, who
+insisted that all the French Catholics should be sent to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span> the Recollet
+house, and trained in Church lore exclusively. But the wider knowledge
+was necessary since there were so many who could not read, and the laws
+and courts would be English.</p>
+
+<p>The school session was half a day. The better class people had a few
+select schools, and sometimes several families joined and had their
+children taught at the house of some parent and shared expenses.</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne felt like a wild thing caught and thrust into a cage. There were
+disputes and quarrels, but she soon established a standing for herself.
+The boys called her Indian, and a name that had been flung at her more
+than once&mdash;tiger cat.</p>
+
+<p>"You will see that I can scratch," she rejoined, threateningly.</p>
+
+<p>"I will learn English, Pani, and no one shall interfere. M. Loisel said
+if I went to the sisters on Wednesday and Friday afternoons that Father
+Rameau would be satisfied. He is nice and kindly, but I hate Father
+Gilbert. And," laughingly, "I think they are all afraid of M. Bellestre.
+Do you suppose he will take me home with him when he comes? I do not
+want to leave Detroit."</p>
+
+<p>Pani sighed. She liked the old town as well.</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne flew to the woods when school was over. She did envy the Indian
+girls their freedom for they were not trained in useful arts as were the
+French girls. Oh, the frolics in the woods, the hunting of berries and
+grapes, the loads of beautiful birch and ash bark, the wild flowers that
+bloomed until frost came! and the fields turning golden with the
+ripening<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span> corn, secure from Indian raids! The thrifty French farmers
+watched it with delight.</p>
+
+<p>Marie De Ber had been kept very busy since the spinning began. Madame
+thought schooling shortsighted business except for boys who would be
+traders by and by, and must learn how to reckon correctly and do a
+little writing.</p>
+
+<p>They went after the last gleaning of berries one afternoon, when the
+autumn sunshine turned all to gold.</p>
+
+<p>"O Marie," cried Jeanne, "here is a harvest! Come at once, and if you
+want them don't shout to anyone."</p>
+
+<p>"O Jeanne, how good you are! For you might have called Susanne, who goes
+to school, and I have thought you liked her better than you do me."</p>
+
+<p>"No, I do not like her now. She pinched little Jacques Moet until he
+cried out and then she laid it to Pierre Dessau, who was well thrashed
+for it, and I called her a coward. I am afraid girls are not brave."</p>
+
+<p>"Come nearer and let us hide in this thicket. For if I do not get a big
+lot of berries mother will send Rose next time, she threatened."</p>
+
+<p>"You can have some of mine. Pani will not care; for she never scolds at
+such a thing."</p>
+
+<p>"Pani is very good to you. Mother complains that she spoils you and that
+you are being brought up like a rich girl."</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne laughed. "Pani never struck me in my life. She isn't quite like a
+mother, you see, but she loves me, loves me!" with emphasis.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"There are so many for mother to love," and the girl sighed.</p>
+
+<p>"Jeanne," she began presently, "I want to tell you something. Mother
+said I must not mention it until it was quite settled. There is&mdash;some
+one&mdash;he has been at father's shop and&mdash;and is coming on Sunday to see
+mother&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne stood up suddenly. "It is Martin Lavosse," she said. "You danced
+with him. He is so gay. O Marie!" and her face was alight.</p>
+
+<p>"No, it is not Martin. I would not mind if it were. But he is so young,
+only eighteen."</p>
+
+<p>"You are young, too."</p>
+
+<p>Marie sighed again. "You have not seen him. It is Antoine Beeson. He is
+a boat builder, and has been buying some of the newly surveyed land down
+at the southern end. Father has known him quite a long while. His sister
+has married and gone to Frenchtown. He is lonely and wants a wife."</p>
+
+<p>"But there are many girls looking for husbands," hesitated Jeanne, not
+knowing whether to approve or oppose; and Marie's husband was such a new
+idea.</p>
+
+<p>"So father says. And we have five girls, you know. Rose is as tall as I
+and has a prettier face and dances like a sprite. And there are so many
+of the fur hunters and traders who drink and spend their money, and
+sometimes beat their wives. Margot Beeson picked out a wife for him, but
+he said she was too old. It was Lise Moet."</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne laughed. "I should not want to live with her, her voice goes
+through your head like a knife.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span> She is little Jacques' aunt and the
+children are all afraid of her. How old is Antoine?"</p>
+
+<p>"Twenty-eight!" in a low, protesting tone.</p>
+
+<p>"Just twice as old as you!" said Jeanne with a little calculation.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I can't help but think of it. And when I am thirty he will be an
+old man sixty years old, bent down and wrinkled and cross, maybe."</p>
+
+<p>"O no, Marie," cried Jeanne, eagerly. "It is not that way one reckons.
+Everything does not double up so fast. He is fourteen years older than
+you, and when you are thirty he can only be fourteen years older than
+you. Count up on your ten fingers&mdash;that makes forty, and four more, he
+will be forty-four."</p>
+
+<p>Marie's mouth and eyes opened in surprise. "Are you quite sure?" with an
+indrawn breath.</p>
+
+<p>"O yes, sure as that the river runs to the lake. It is what they teach
+at school. And though it is a great trouble to make yourself remember,
+and you wonder what it is all about, then at other times you can use the
+knowledge and are happy and glad over it. There are so many queer
+things," smiling a little. "And they are not in the catechism or the
+prayers. The sisters shake their heads over them."</p>
+
+<p>"But can they be quite right?" asked Marie in a kind of awesome tone.</p>
+
+<p>"Why they seem right for the men to know," laughed Jeanne. "How else
+could they be bartering and counting money? And it is said that Madame
+Ganeau goes over her husband's books every week since they found Jules
+Froment was a thief, and kept<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span> wrong accounts, putting the money in his
+own pocket."</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne raised her voice triumphantly.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, here they are!" cried Cecile followed by a string of girls. "And
+look, they have found a harvest, their pails are almost full. You mean,
+selfish things!"</p>
+
+<p>"Why you had the same right to be hunting everywhere," declared Jeanne
+stoutly. "We found a good place and we picked&mdash;that is all there is of
+it."</p>
+
+<p>"But you might have called us."</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne laughed in a tantalizing manner.</p>
+
+<p>"O Jeanne Angelot, you think yourself some great things because you live
+inside the stockade and go to a school where they teach all manner of
+lies to the children. Your place is out in some Indian wigwam. You're
+half Indian, anyhow."</p>
+
+<p>"Look at us!" Jeanne made a sudden bound and placed herself beside
+Cecile, whose complexion was swarthy, her hair straight, black, and
+rather coarse, and her dark eyes had a yellowish tinge, even to the
+whites. "Perhaps I am the descendant of some Indian princess&mdash;I should
+be proud of it, for the Indians once held all this great new world; and
+the French and English could not hold it."</p>
+
+<p>There was a titter among the girls. Never had Jeanne looked prouder or
+handsomer, and Cecile's broad nose distended with anger while her lips
+were purple. She was larger but she did not dare attack Jeanne, for she
+knew the nature and the prowess of the tiger cat.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Let us go home; it gets late," cried one of the girls, turning her
+companion about.</p>
+
+<p>"O Jeanne," whispered Marie, "how splendid you are! No husband would
+ever dare beat you."</p>
+
+<p>"I should tear out his eyes if he did."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>CHAPTER VII.</h2>
+
+<h3>LOVERS AND LOVERS.</h3>
+
+
+<p>There were days when Jeanne Angelot thought she should smother in the
+stuffy school, and the din of the voices went through her head like the
+rushing noise of a whirlwind. She had stolen out of the room once or
+twice and had not been called to an account for it. Then one day she saw
+a boy whipped severely for the same thing. Children were so often beaten
+in those days, and yet the French habitans were very fond of their
+offspring.</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne lingered after the children made their clumsy bows and shuffled
+out.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, what is it?" asked the gruff master.</p>
+
+<p>"Monsieur, you whipped the Dorien boy for running away from school."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, and I'll do it again. I'll break up the bad practice. Their
+parents send them to school. They do a mean, dishonest thing and then
+they lie about it. Don't come sniveling to me about Dorien."</p>
+
+<p>"Monsieur, I was not going to snivel for anybody. You were right to keep
+your word. If you had promised a holiday and not given it to us we
+should have felt that you were mean and not of your word. So what is
+right for one side is right for the other."</p>
+
+<p>He looked over the tops of his glasses, and he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span> made deep wrinkles in
+his forehead to do it. His eyes were keen and sharp and disconcerted
+Jeanne a little.</p>
+
+<p>"Upon my word!" he ejaculated.</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne drew a long breath and was almost afraid to go on with her
+confession. Only she should not feel clean inside until she had uttered
+it.</p>
+
+<p>"There'd be no trouble teaching school if the pupils could see that.
+There'd be little trouble in the world if the people could see it. It is
+the good on my side, the bad shoved off on yours. Who taught you such a
+sense of fairness, of honesty?"</p>
+
+<p>If he could have gotten his grim face into smiling lines he would have
+done it. As it was it softened.</p>
+
+<p>"Monsieur, I wanted to tell you that I had not been fair. I ran out of
+school the second day. It was like daggers going through my head and
+there were stars before my eyes and such a ringing in my ears! So I ran
+out of doors, clear out to the woods and stayed there up in a high tree
+where the birds sang to me and the wind made music among the leaves and
+one could almost look through the blue sky where the white boats went
+sailing. I thought I would not come to school any more."</p>
+
+<p>"Well&mdash;you did though." He was trying to think who this strange child
+was.</p>
+
+<p>"You see I had promised. And I wanted to learn English and many other
+things that are not down in the prayers and counting beads. Pani said it
+was wrong. So I came back. You did not know I had run away, Monsieur."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"No, but there was no rule then. I should have been glad if half of them
+had run away."</p>
+
+<p>He gave a chuckle and a funny gleam shone out of his eye, and there was
+a curl in his lip as if the amusement could not get out.</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne wanted to smile. She should never be afraid of him again.</p>
+
+<p>"And there was another time&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"How many more?"</p>
+
+<p>"No more. For Pani said, 'Would you like to tell Monsieur St.
+Armand?'&mdash;and I knew I should be ashamed."</p>
+
+<p>A delicate flush stole over her face, going up to the tangle of rings on
+her forehead. What a pretty child she was!</p>
+
+<p>"Monsieur St. Armand?" inquiringly.</p>
+
+<p>"He was here in the summer. He has gone to Paris. And he wanted me to
+study. It is hard and sometimes foolishness, but then people are so much
+nicer who know a great many things."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh," he said thoughtfully, "you live with an Indian woman up by the
+barracks? It is Monsieur Loisel's prot&eacute;g&eacute;e?" and he gave her an
+inquiring look.</p>
+
+<p>"Monsieur, I would like to know what a prot&eacute;g&eacute;e is," with a puzzled
+look.</p>
+
+<p>"Some one, generally a child, in whom you take an interest."</p>
+
+<p>She gave a thoughtful nod, then a quick joy flamed up in her face. She
+was Monsieur St. Armand's prot&eacute;g&eacute;e and she was very glad.</p>
+
+<p>"You are a courageous child. I wish the boys<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span> were as brave. I hate
+lying;" the man said after a pause.</p>
+
+<p>"O M'sieu, there are a great many cowardly people&mdash;do you not think so?"
+she returned na&iuml;vely.</p>
+
+<p>He really smiled then, and gave several emphatic nods at her youthful
+discrimination.</p>
+
+<p>"And you think you will not run away any more?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, Monsieur, because&mdash;it is wrong."</p>
+
+<p>"Then we must excuse you."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you, Monsieur. I wanted you to know. Now I can feel light
+hearted."</p>
+
+<p>She made a pretty courtesy and half turned.</p>
+
+<p>"If you did not mind I should like to hear something about your Monsieur
+St. Armand, that is, if you are not in a hurry to get home to your
+dinner."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Pani will wait."</p>
+
+<p>She told her story eagerly, and he saw the wish to please this friend
+who had shown such an interest in her was a strong incentive. But she
+had a desire for knowledge beside that. So many of the children were
+stupid and hated study. He would watch over her and see that she
+progressed. This, no doubt, was the friend M. Loisel had spoken of.</p>
+
+<p>"You have been very good to me, M'sieu," she said with another courtesy
+as she turned away.</p>
+
+<p>Several days had elapsed before she saw Marie again, for Madame De Ber
+rather discountenanced the intimacy now. She had not much opinion of the
+school; the sisters and the priests could teach all that was necessary.
+And Jeanne still ran about like a wild deer, while Marie was a woman.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>On Sunday Antoine Beeson came to pay his respects to Madame, the mamma.
+He surely could not be considered a young girl's ideal,&mdash;short, stout,
+red-faced from exposure to wind and water and sun, his thick brown hair
+rather long, though he had been clean shaven the evening before. He wore
+his best deerskin breeches, his gray sort of blouse with a red belt, and
+low, clumsy shoes with his father's buckles that had come from France,
+and he was duly proud of them. His gay bordered handkerchief and his
+necktie were new for the occasion.</p>
+
+<p>Monsieur De Ber had satisfied himself that he would make a good
+son-in-law.</p>
+
+<p>"For you see there is the house all ready, and now the servant has no
+head and is idle and wasteful. I cannot stand such work. I wish your
+daughter was two or three years older, since I cannot go back myself,"
+the admirer exclaimed rather regretfully.</p>
+
+<p>"Marie will be fifteen in the spring. She has been well trained, being
+the eldest girl, and Madame is a thrifty and excellent housekeeper. Then
+we all mend of youth. You will have a strong, healthy woman to care for
+you in your old age, instead of a decrepit body to be a burthen to you."</p>
+
+<p>"That is well thought of, De Ber;" and the suitor gave a short chuckle.
+There was wisdom in the idea.</p>
+
+<p>Madame had sent Marie and Rose out to walk with the children. She knew
+she should accept the suitor, for her husband had said:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"It is quite a piece of luck, since there are five girls to marry off.
+And there's many a one who would<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span> jump at the chance. Then we shall not
+have to give Marie much dowry beside her setting out. It is not like
+young people beginning from the very hearthstone."</p>
+
+<p>She met the suitor with a friendly greeting as if he were an ordinary
+visitor, and they talked of the impending changes in the town, the
+coming of the Americans, the stir in business prospects, M. Beeson was
+not much of a waster of words, and he came to the point presently.</p>
+
+<p>"It will be hard to spare Marie," she said with an accent of regret.
+"Being the eldest she has had a great deal of experience. She is like a
+mother to the younger ones. She has not been spending her time in
+fooling around idly and dancing and being out on the river, like so many
+girls. Rose is not worth half of Marie, and I do not see how I shall
+ever get the trifler trained to take Marie's place. But there need be no
+immediate haste."</p>
+
+<p>"O Madame, we can do our courting afterward. I can take Mam'selle out to
+the booths Saturday night, and we can look at the dancing. There will be
+all day Sunday when I am at liberty. But you see there is the house
+going to wrack, the servant spending my money, and the discomfort. I
+miss my sister so much. And I thought we would not make a long story.
+Dear Madame, you must see the need."</p>
+
+<p>"It is sad to be sure. But you see Marie being so young and kept rather
+close, not having any admirers, it takes us suddenly. And the wedding
+gear&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Mam'selle always looks tidy. But I suppose a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span> girl wants some show at
+the church and the maids. Well, one doesn't get married many times in
+one's life. But I would like it to be by Christmas. It will be a little
+dull with me no doubt, and toward spring it is all hurry and drive,
+Antoine here and Antoine there. New boats and boats to be patched and
+canoes and dugouts. Then the big ships are up for repairs. I have worked
+moonlight nights, Madame. And Christmas is a pleasurable time."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, a pleasant time for a girl to remember. I was married at
+Pentecost. And there was the great procession. Dear! dear! It is not
+much over seventeen years ago and we have nine children."</p>
+
+<p>"Pierre is a big lad, Madame, and a great help to his father. Children
+are a pleasure and comfort in one's old age if they do well. And thine
+are being well brought up. Marie is so good and steady. It is not wisdom
+for a man like me to choose a flighty girl."</p>
+
+<p>"Marie will make a good wife," returned Madame, confidently.</p>
+
+<p>And so when Marie returned it was all settled and Antoine had been
+invited to tea. Marie was in a desperate flutter. Of course there was
+nothing for her to say and she would not have had the courage to say it
+if there had been. But she could not help comparing him with Martin
+Lavosse, and some of the young men who greeted her at church. If his
+face were not quite so red, and his figure so clumsy! His hands, too,
+were broad with stubby ends to the fingers. She looked at her own; they
+were quite shapely, for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span> youth has a way of throwing off the marks of
+toil that are ready enough to come back in later life.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Ma fille</i>," said her mother when the lover had wished them all good
+night, rather awkwardly, and her father had gone out to walk with him;
+"<i>ma fille</i>, Monsieur Beeson has done us the honor to ask for thy hand.
+He is a good, steady, well-to-do man with a nice home to take thee to.
+He does not carouse nor spend his money foolishly, but will always stay
+at home with thee, and make thee happy. Many a girl will envy thy lot.
+He wants the wedding about Christmas time, so the betrothal will be
+soon, in a week or so. Heaven bless and prosper thee, my child! A good
+daughter will not make an ill wife. Thy father is very proud."</p>
+
+<p>Rose and Marie looked unutterable things at each other when they went to
+bed. There were little pitchers in the trundle-bed, and their parents in
+the next room.</p>
+
+<p>"If he were not so old!" whispered Rose.</p>
+
+<p>"And if he could dance! But with that figure!"</p>
+
+<p>"Like a buffalo!" Marie's protest forced its way up from her heart. "And
+I have just begun to think of things that make one happy. There will be
+dances at Christmastide."</p>
+
+<p>"I wonder if one is sure to love one's husband," commented Rose.</p>
+
+<p>"It would be wicked not to. But how does one begin? I am so afraid of
+his loud voice."</p>
+
+<p>"Girls, cease whispering and go to sleep. The night will be none too
+long," called their mother.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Marie wiped some tears from her eyes. But it was a great comfort to her
+when she was going to church the next Sunday and walking behind the
+Bronelle girls to hear Hortense say:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"I have my cap set for Tony Beeson. His sister has kept close watch of
+him, but now he is free. I was down to the dock on Friday, and he was
+very cordial and sent a boy over the river with me in a canoe and would
+take no pay. Think of that! I shall make him walk home with me if I
+can."</p>
+
+<p>Marie De Ber flushed. Some one would be glad to have him. At first she
+half wished he had chosen Hortense, then a bit of jealousy and a bit of
+triumph surged through her slow pulses.</p>
+
+<p>Antoine Beeson walked home on the side of M. De Ber. The children old
+enough to go to church were ranged in a procession behind. Pierre
+guarded his sisters. Jeanne was on the other side of the street with
+Pani, but the distance was so small that she glanced across with
+questioning eyes. Marie held her head up proudly.</p>
+
+<p>"I do believe," began Jeanne when they had turned out of St Anne's
+street, "that Marie De Ber is going to be betrothed to that rough boat
+builder who walks beside her father."</p>
+
+<p>"Antoine Beeson has a good record, and she will do well," returned Pani
+briefly.</p>
+
+<p>"But I think it would not be easy to love him," protested Jeanne.</p>
+
+<p>"Child, you are too young to talk about love. It is the parents who
+decide such matters."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"And I have none. You could not make me marry anyone, Pani. And I do not
+like these common men."</p>
+
+<p>"Heaven forbid! but I might advise."</p>
+
+<p>"I am not going to marry, you know. After all, maybe when I get old I
+will be a sister. It won't be hard to wear a black gown then. But I
+shall wait until I am <i>very</i> old. Pani, did you ever dream of what might
+happen to you?"</p>
+
+<p>"The good God sends what is best for us, child."</p>
+
+<p>"But&mdash;Monsieur Bellestre might come. And if he took me away then
+Monsieur St. Armand might come. Pani, is Monsieur Bellestre as nice as
+Monsieur St. Armand? I cannot seem to remember him."</p>
+
+<p>"Little maids should not be thinking of men so often. Think of thy
+prayers, Jeanne."</p>
+
+<p>Sunday was a great time to walk on the parade ground, the young men
+attired in their best, the demoiselles gay as butterflies with a mother
+or married sister to guard them from too great familiarity. But there
+was much decorous coquetting on both sides, for even at that period many
+a young fellow was caught by a pair of smiling eyes.</p>
+
+<p>Others went to walk in the woods outside the farms or sailing on the
+river, since there was no Puritan strictness. They did their duty by the
+morning mass and service, and the rest of the day was given over to
+simple pleasure. There was a kind of half religious hilarity in the very
+air.</p>
+
+<p>And the autumn was so magnificently beautiful. The great hillsides with
+their tracts of timber that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span> looked as if they fenced in the world when
+the sun dropped down behind them, but if one threaded one's way through
+the dark aisles and came out on the other side there were wonderful
+pictures,&mdash;small prairies or levels that suggested lakes and then a sort
+of avenue stretching out until another was visible, undulating surfaces,
+groves of pine, burr oak, and great stalwart hickories, then another
+woody ridge, and so on and on through interminable tangles and over
+rivers until Lake Michigan was reached. But not many of the habitans, or
+even the English, for that matter, had traveled to the other side of the
+state. The business journeys called them northward. There were Indian
+settlements about that were not over friendly.</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne liked the outside world better. She was not old enough for smiles
+and smirks or an interest in fine clothes. So when she said, "Come,
+Pani," the woman rose and followed.</p>
+
+<p>"To the tree?" she asked as they halted a little.</p>
+
+<p>"To the big woods," smilingly.</p>
+
+<p>The cottages were many of them framed in with vines and high pickets,
+and pear and apple orchards surrounded them, whose seed and, in some
+instances, cuttings had been brought from France; roses, too, whose
+ancestors had blossomed for kings and queens. Here and there was an oak
+turned ruddy, a hickory hanging out slender yellow leaves, or a maple
+flaunting a branch of wondrous scarlet. The people had learned to
+protect and defend themselves from murderous Indian raids, or in this
+vicinity the red men had proved more friendly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Pierre De Ber came shambling along. He had grown rapidly and seemed
+loose jointed, but he had a kindly, honest face where ignorance really
+was simplicity.</p>
+
+<p>"You fly over the ground, Jeanne!" he exclaimed out of breath. The day
+was very warm for September. "Here I have been trying to catch up to
+you&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Mam'selle, I am tired myself. Let us sit down somewhere and rest,"
+said Pani.</p>
+
+<p>"Just to this little hillock. Pani, it would make a hut with the
+clearing inside and the soft mosses. If you drew the branches of the
+trees together it would make thatching for the roof. One could live
+here."</p>
+
+<p>"O Mam'selle,&mdash;the Indians!" cried Pierre.</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne laughed. "The Indians are going farther and farther away. Now,
+Pani, sit down here. Then lean back against this tree. And now you may
+take a good long rest. I am going to talk to the chipmunks and the
+birds, and find flowers."</p>
+
+<p>Pani drew up her knees, resting on her feet as a brace. The soft air had
+made her sleepy as well, and she closed her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"It is so beautiful," sighed Jeanne. "Something rises within me and I
+want to fly. I want to know what strange lands there are beyond the
+clouds. And over there, far, farther than one can think, is a big ocean
+no one has ever seen. It is on the map. And this way," inclining her
+head eastward, "is another. That is where you go to France."</p>
+
+<p>"But I shall never go to France," said the literal youth. "I want to go
+up to Michilimackinac, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span> there is the great Lake Huron. That is
+enough for me. If the ocean is any bigger I do not want to see it."</p>
+
+<p>"It is, oh, miles and hundreds of miles bigger! And it takes more than a
+month to go. The master showed me on a map."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I don't care for that," pulling the leaves off a branch he had
+used for a switch.</p>
+
+<p>The rough, rugged, and sometimes cross face of the master was better,
+because his eyes had a wonderful light in them. What made people so
+different? Apples and pears and ears of corn generally grew one like the
+other. And pigs&mdash;she smiled to herself. And the few sheep she had seen.
+But people could think. What gave one the thinking power? In the brain
+the master said. Did every one have brains?</p>
+
+<p>"Jeanne, I have something wonderful to tell you."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I think I know it! Marie has a lover."</p>
+
+<p>He looked disappointed. "Who told you?"</p>
+
+<p>"No one really told me. I saw Monsieur Beeson walking home with your
+father. And Marie was afraid&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Afraid!" the boy gave a derisive laugh. "Well, she is no longer afraid.
+They are going to be betrothed on Michaelmas eve. Tony is a good
+fellow."</p>
+
+<p>"Then if Marie is&mdash;satisfied&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Why shouldn't she be satisfied? Father says it is a great chance, for
+you see she can really have no dowry, there are so many of us. We must
+all wait for our share until father has gone."</p>
+
+<p>"Gone? Where?" She looked up in surprise.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Why, when he is dead. Everybody has to die, you know. And then the
+money they leave is divided."</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne nodded. It shocked her in a vague sort of fashion, and she was
+glad Pani had no money.</p>
+
+<p>"And Tony Beeson has a good house and a good business. I like him," the
+boy said, doggedly.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," assentingly. "But Marie is to marry him."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, the idea!" Pierre laughed immoderately. "Why a man always marries a
+woman."</p>
+
+<p>"But your liking wouldn't help Marie."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Marie is all right. She will like him fast enough. And it will be
+gay to have a wedding. That is to be about Christmas."</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne was looking down the little slant to the cottages and the
+wigwams, and speculating upon the queerness of marriage.</p>
+
+<p>"I wish I had made as much fortune as Tony Beeson. But then I'm only a
+little past sixteen, and in five years I shall be twenty-one. Then I am
+going to have a wife and house of my own."</p>
+
+<p>"O Pierre!" Jeanne broke into a soft laugh.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Jeanne&mdash;" turning very red.</p>
+
+<p>The girl was looking at him in a mirthful fashion and it rather
+disconcerted him.</p>
+
+<p>"You won't mind waiting, Jeanne&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I shan't mind waiting, but if you mean&mdash;" her cheeks turned a deeper
+scarlet and she made a little pause&mdash;"if you mean marrying I should mind
+that a good deal;" in a decisive tone.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"But not to marry me? You have known me always."</p>
+
+<p>"I should mind marrying anyone. I shouldn't want to sweep the house, and
+cook the meals, and wash, and tend babies. I want to go and come as I
+like. I hated school at first, but now I like learning and I must crack
+the shell to get at the kernel, so you see that is why I make myself
+agree with it."</p>
+
+<p>"You cannot go to school always. And while you are there I shall be up
+to the Mich making some money."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh," with a vexed crease in her forehead, "I told you once before not
+to talk of this&mdash;the day we were all out in the boat, you remember. And
+if you go on I shall hate you; yes, I shall."</p>
+
+<p>"I shall go on," said the persistent fellow. "Not very often, perhaps,
+but I thought if you were one of the maids at Marie's wedding and I
+could wait on you&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I shall not be one of the maids." She rose and stamped her foot on the
+ground. "Your mother does not like me any more. She never asks me to
+come in to tea. She thinks the school wicked. And you must marry to
+please her, as Marie is doing. So it will not be me;" she declared with
+emphasis.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I know. That Louis Marsac will come back and you will marry him."</p>
+
+<p>The boy's eyes flamed with jealousy and his whole face gloomed over with
+cruelty. "And then I shall kill him. I couldn't stand it," he
+continued.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I hate Louis Marsac! I hate you, Pierre De Ber!" she cried vehemently.</p>
+
+<p>The boy fell at her feet and kissed the hem of her frock, for she
+snatched away her hands.</p>
+
+<p>"No, don't hate me. I'm glad to have you hate him."</p>
+
+<p>"Get up, or I shall kick you," she said viciously.</p>
+
+<p>"O Jeanne, don't be angry! I'll wait and wait. I thought you had
+forgotten, or changed somehow. You have been so pleasant. And you smiled
+so at me this morning. I know you have liked me&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"If ever you say another word&mdash;" raising her hand.</p>
+
+<p>"I won't unless you let me. You see you are not grown up yet, but
+sometimes people are betrothed when they are little children&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>She put her fingers in her ears and spun round and round, going down the
+little decline. Then she remembered Pani, who had fallen asleep. She
+motioned to Pierre.</p>
+
+<p>"Go home," she commanded as he came toward her. "And if you ever talk
+about this to me again I shall tell your father. I am not for anybody. I
+shall not mind if I am one of St. Catherine's maids."</p>
+
+<p>"Jeanne&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Go!" She made an imperative motion with her hand.</p>
+
+<p>He walked slowly away. She started like a mad thing and ran through the
+woods at the top of her speed until her anger had vanished.</p>
+
+<p>"Poor Pierre," she said. "This talk of marriage<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span> has set him crazy. But
+I could never like him, and Madame M&egrave;re just hates me."</p>
+
+<p>She went slowly back to Pani and sat down by her side. How tired she
+looked!</p>
+
+<p>"And I dragged her way up here," she thought remorsefully. "I'm glad she
+didn't wake up."</p>
+
+<p>So she sat there patiently and let the woman finish her nap. But her
+beautiful thoughts were gone and her mind was shadowed by something
+grave and strange that she shrank from. Then Pani stirred.</p>
+
+<p>"O child, I've been sleeping stupidly and you have not gathered a
+flower&mdash;" looking at the empty hands. "Have you been here all the time?"</p>
+
+<p>"No matter. Pani, am I a tyrant dragging you everywhere?" Her voice was
+touching with regret.</p>
+
+<p>"No, <i>cherie</i>. But sometimes I feel old. I've lived a great many years."</p>
+
+<p>"How many?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I cannot count them up. But I am rested now. Shall we walk about a
+little and get my knees limber? Where is Pierre?"</p>
+
+<p>"He went home. Pani, it is true Marie is to be betrothed to M'sieu
+Beeson, and married at Christmastide."</p>
+
+<p>"And if the sign holds good Madame De Ber will be fortunate in marrying
+off her girls, for, if the first hangs on, it is bad for the rest. Rose
+will be much prettier, and no doubt have lovers in plenty. But it is not
+always the prettiest that make the best wives. Marie is sensible. They
+will have a grand time."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"And I shall not be counted in," the child said proudly.</p>
+
+<p>"Jeanne, little one&mdash;" in surprise.</p>
+
+<p>"Madame does not like me because I go to the heretic school. And&mdash;I do
+not sew nor spin, nor sweep the house&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"There is no need," interrupted Pani.</p>
+
+<p>"No, since I do not mean to have a husband."</p>
+
+<p>And yet&mdash;how amusing it was&mdash;a boy and a man were ready to quarrel over
+her. Did ever any little girl have two lovers?</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, little one, smile over it now, but thou wilt change presently when
+the right bird whistles through the forest."</p>
+
+<p>"I will not come for any man's whistle."</p>
+
+<p>"That is only a saying, dear."</p>
+
+<p>They walked down the hill. Cheerful greetings met them and Pani was
+loaded with fruit. At the hut of Wenonah, the mistress insisted upon
+their coming in to supper and Jeanne consented for them both. For,
+although the bell rang, the gates were no longer closed at six.</p>
+
+<p>Marie De Ber made several efforts to see her friend, but her mother's
+watchful eye nipped them in the bud. One Friday afternoon they met.
+Wednesday following was to be the betrothal.</p>
+
+<p>"I wanted to explain&mdash;" Marie flushed and hesitated. "There have been
+many guests asked, and they are mostly older people&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I know. I am only a child, and your mother does not approve. Then
+I go to the heretic school."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"She thinks the school a bad thing. And about the maids&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I could not be one of them," Jeanne said stiffly.</p>
+
+<p>"Mother has chosen them, I had no say. She manages everything. When I
+have my own home I shall do as I like and invite whom I choose. Mother
+thinks I do not know anything and have no mind, but, Jeanne, I love you,
+and I am not afraid of what you learn at school. Monsieur Beeson said it
+was a good thing. And you will not be angry with me?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, no, Marie." The child's heart was touched.</p>
+
+<p>"We will be friends afterward. I shall tell M'sieu Beeson how long we
+have cared for each other."</p>
+
+<p>"You&mdash;like him?" hesitatingly.</p>
+
+<p>"He is very kind. And girls cannot choose. I wish he were younger, but
+it will be gay at Christmastide, and my own home will be much to me.
+Yes, we will wait until then. Jeanne, kiss me for good luck. You are
+quite sure you are not angry?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, very sure."</p>
+
+<p>The two girls kissed each other and Jeanne cried, "Good luck! good
+luck!" But all the same she felt Marie was going out of her life and it
+would leave a curious vacancy.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>CHAPTER VIII.</h2>
+
+<h3>A TOUCH OF FRIENDSHIP.</h3>
+
+
+<p>How softly the bells rang out for the service of St. Michael and All
+Angels! The river flowing so tranquilly seemed to carry on the melody
+and then bring back a faint echo. It was a great holiday with the
+French. The early mass was thronged, somehow the virtue seemed greater
+if one went to that. Then there was a procession that marched to the
+little chapels outside, which were hardly more than shrines.</p>
+
+<p>Pani went out early and alone. And though the good priest had said to
+her, "The child is old enough and should be confirmed," since M.
+Bellestre had some objections and insisted that Jeanne should not be
+hurried into any sacred promises, and the child herself seemed to have
+no desire, they waited.</p>
+
+<p>"But you peril the salvation of her soul. Since she has been baptized
+she should be confirmed," said Father Rameau. "She is a child of the
+Church. And if she should die!"</p>
+
+<p>"She will not die," said Pani with a strange confidence, "and she is to
+decide for herself."</p>
+
+<p>"What can a child know!"</p>
+
+<p>"Then if she cannot know she must be blameless. Monsieur Bellestre was a
+very good man. And, M'sieu, some who come to mass, to their shame be it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span>
+said, cheat their neighbors and get drunk, and tempt others to drink."</p>
+
+<p>"Most true, but that doesn't lessen our duty."</p>
+
+<p>M. Bellestre had not come yet. This time a long illness had intervened.</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne went out in the procession and sang in the hymns and the rosary.
+And she heard about the betrothal. The house had been crowded with
+guests and Marie had on a white frock and a beautiful sash, and her hair
+was curled.</p>
+
+<p>In spite of her protests Jeanne did feel deeply hurt that she should be
+left out. Marie had made a timid plea for her friend.</p>
+
+<p>"We cannot ask all the children in the town," said her mother
+emphatically. "And no one knows whether she has any real position. She
+is a foundling, and no company for you."</p>
+
+<p>Pani went down the river with her in the afternoon. She was gayety
+itself, singing little songs and laughing over everything so that she
+quite misled her nurse into thinking that she really did not care. Then
+she made Pani tell some old legends of the spirits who haunted the lakes
+and rivers, and she added to them some she had heard Wenonah relate.</p>
+
+<p>"I should like to live down in some depths, one of the beautiful caves
+where there are gems and all lovely things," said the child.</p>
+
+<p>"As if there were not lovely things in the forests. There are no birds
+in the waters. And fishes are not as bright and merry as squirrels."</p>
+
+<p>"That is true enough. I'll stay on the earth a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span> little while longer,"
+laughingly. "But look at the lovely colors. O Pani, how many beautiful
+things there are! And yet Berth&ecirc; Campeau is going to Quebec to become a
+nun and be shut out of it. How can you praise God for things you do not
+see and cannot enjoy? And is it such a good thing to suffer? Does God
+rejoice in the pain that he doesn't send and that you take upon
+yourself? Her poor mother will die and she will not be here to comfort
+her."</p>
+
+<p>Pani shook her head. The child had queer thoughts.</p>
+
+<p>"Pani, we must go and see Madame Campeau afterward. She will be very
+lonely. You would not be happy if I went away?"</p>
+
+<p>"O child!" with a quick cry.</p>
+
+<p>"So I am not going. If Monsieur Bellestre wants me he will take you,
+too."</p>
+
+<p>Pani nodded.</p>
+
+<p>They noted as they went down that a tree growing imprudently near the
+water's edge had fallen in. There was a little bend in the river, and it
+really was dangerous. So coming back they gave it a sensibly wide berth.</p>
+
+<p>A canoe with a young man in it came flying up. The sun had gone down and
+there were purple shadows about like troops of spirits.</p>
+
+<p>"Monsieur," the child cried, "do not hug the shore so much. There is
+danger."</p>
+
+<p>A gay laugh came back to them and he flashed on, his paddle poised at a
+most graceful angle.</p>
+
+<p>"O Monsieur!" with eager warning.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The paddle caught. The dainty canoe turned over and floated out of reach
+with a slight gust of wind.</p>
+
+<p>"Monsieur"&mdash;Jeanne came nearer&mdash;"it was a fallen tree. It was so dusk I
+knew you could not see it."</p>
+
+<p>He was swimming toward them. "I wonder if you can help me recover my
+boat."</p>
+
+<p>"Monsieur, swim in to the shore and I will bring the canoe there." She
+was afraid to risk taking him in hers. "Just down below to escape the
+tree."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, thank you. Yes, that will be best."</p>
+
+<p>His strokes were fine and strong even if he was encumbered by his
+clothing. Jeanne propelled her canoe along and drove the other in to
+shore, then caught it with a rope. He emerged from his bath and shook
+himself.</p>
+
+<p>"You have been very kind. I should have heeded your warning or asked you
+what it meant. And now&mdash;I have lost my paddle."</p>
+
+<p>"I have an extra one, Monsieur."</p>
+
+<p>"You are a godsend certainly. Lend it to me."</p>
+
+<p>He waded out, rescued his canoe and leaped adroitly into it. She was
+interested in the ease and grace.</p>
+
+<p>"That tree is a dangerous thing," he exclaimed.</p>
+
+<p>"They will remove it, Monsieur. It must have recently fallen in. The
+tide has washed the ground away."</p>
+
+<p>"It was quite a mishap, but owing to your quick thought I am not much
+the worse;" and he laughed. "I do not mind a wetting. As for the lost
+paddle that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span> will break no one's heart. But I shall remember you with
+gratitude. May I ask your name?"</p>
+
+<p>"It is Jeanne Angelot," she said simply.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, then I ought to know you&mdash;do know you a little. My father is the
+Sieur St. Armand."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!" Jeanne gave a little cry of delight.</p>
+
+<p>"And I have a message for you. I was coming to find you to-morrow."</p>
+
+<p>"Monsieur may take cold in his wet clothes, Jeanne. We ought to go a
+little faster," said Pani. "The air is getting chilly here on the
+river."</p>
+
+<p>"If you do not mind I will hasten on. And to-morrow I shall be glad to
+come and thank you again and deliver my message."</p>
+
+<p>"Adieu," responded Jeanne, with a delicious gayety.</p>
+
+<p>He was off like a bird and soon out of sight. Jeanne drew her canoe up
+to a quiet part of the town, below the gate. The day was ending, as
+holidays often did, in a sort of carouse. Men were playing on fiddles,
+crowds of men and boys were dancing. By some flaring light others were
+playing cards or dominoes. The two threaded their way quickly along,
+Jeanne with her head and face nearly hidden by the big kerchief that was
+like a shawl.</p>
+
+<p>"How queer it was, Pani!" and she laughed. Her eyes were like stars in
+their pleasure. "And to think Monsieur St. Armand has sent me a message!
+Do you suppose he is in France? I asked the master to show me France&mdash;he
+has a map of these strange countries."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"A map!" gasped Pani, as if it were an evil spirit.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, it is like a picture with lines all about it. This is France. This
+is Spain. And England, where the English come from. I should think they
+would&mdash;it is such a little place. Ever so many other countries as well.
+But after all I don't understand about their going round&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Come and have some supper."</p>
+
+<p>"We should have seen him anyhow if he had not fallen into the river. And
+it was funny! If he had heeded what I said&mdash;it was lucky we saw the tree
+as we went down."</p>
+
+<p>"He will give due notice of it, no doubt. The water is so clear that it
+can easily be seen in the daytime. Otherwise I should feel troubled."</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne nodded with gay affirmation. She was in exuberant spirits, and
+could hardly eat.</p>
+
+<p>Then they sat out in the doorway, shaded somewhat by the clinging vines.
+From below there was a sound of music. Up at the Fort the band was
+playing. There was no moon, but the stars were bright and glittering in
+strange tints. Now and then a party rather merry with wine and whisky
+trolled out a noisy stave that had been imported from the mother country
+years ago about Jacques and his loves and his good wine.</p>
+
+<p>Presently the great bell clanged out. That was a signal for booths to
+shut, for deerhide curtains to be drawn. Some obstreperous soldiers were
+marched to the guardhouse. Some drunken revelers crept into a nook
+beside a storage box or hid in a tangle of vines to sleep until
+morning.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>But in many of the better class houses merriment and gayety went on
+while the outside decorousness was observed. There was a certain respect
+paid to law and the new rulers were not so arbitrary as the English had
+been. Also French prejudices were wearing slowly away while the real
+characteristics of the race remained.</p>
+
+<p>"I shall not go to school to-day," said Jeanne the next morning. "I will
+tell the master how it was, and he will pardon me. And I will get two
+lessons to-morrow, so the children will see that he does not favor me. I
+think they are sometimes jealous."</p>
+
+<p>She laughed brightly and went dancing about singing whatever sounds
+entered her mind. Now it was a call of birds, then a sharp high cry,
+anon a merry whistle that one might fancy came from the woods. She ran
+out and in, she looked up and down the narrow street with its crooks
+that had never been smoothed out, and with some houses standing in the
+very road as it were. Everything was crowded in the business part.</p>
+
+<p>Rose De Ber spied her out and came running up to greet her; tossing her
+head consequentially.</p>
+
+<p>"We had a gay time last night. I wish you could have peeped in the
+windows. But you know it was not for children, only grown people. Martin
+Lavosse danced ever so many times with me, but he moaned about Marie,
+and I said, 'By the time thou art old enough to marry she will have a
+houseful of babies, perhaps she will give you her first daughter,' and
+he replied, 'I shall not wait that length of time. There<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span> are still good
+fish in the lakes and rivers, but I am sorry to see her wed before she
+has had a taste of true life and pleasure.' And, Jeanne, I have resolved
+that mother shall not marry me off to the first comer."</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne nodded approval.</p>
+
+<p>"I do not see what has come over Pierre," she went on. "He was grumpy as
+a wounded bear last night and only a day or two ago he made such a
+mistake in reckoning that father beat him. And Monsieur Beeson and
+mother nearly quarreled over the kind of learning girls should have. He
+said every one should know how to read and write and figure a little so
+that she could overlook her husband's affairs if he should be ill. Marie
+is going to learn to read afterward, and she is greatly pleased."</p>
+
+<p>It was true that ignorance prevailed largely among the common people.
+The children were taught prayers and parts of the service and catechism
+orally, since that was all that concerned their souls' salvation, and it
+kept a wider distinction between the classes. But the jolly, merry
+Frenchman, used to the tradition of royalty, cared little. His place was
+at the end of the line and he enjoyed the freedom. He would not have
+exchanged his rough, comfortable dress for all the satin waistcoats,
+velvet small clothes and lace ruffles in the world. Like the Indian he
+had come to love his liberty and the absence of troublesome
+restrictions.</p>
+
+<p>But the English had brought in new methods, although education with them
+was only for the few. The colonist from New England made this a
+spe<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span>cialty. As soon as possible in a new settlement schools were
+established, but there were other restrictions before them and learning
+of most kinds had to fight its way.</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne saw her visitor coming up the street just as her patience was
+almost exhausted. She was struck with a sudden awe at the sight of the
+well dressed young man.</p>
+
+<p>"Did you think I would not keep my word?" he asked gayly.</p>
+
+<p>"But your father did," she answered gravely.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, I am afraid I shall never make so fine a man. I have seen no one
+like him, Mam'selle, though there are many courageous and honorable men
+in the world. But you know I have not met everybody," laughing and
+showing white, even teeth between the red lips. "Good day!" to Pani, who
+invited him in into the room where she had set a chair for him.</p>
+
+<p>"I want to ask your pardon for my rudeness yesterday," bowing to the
+child and the woman. "Perhaps my handling of the canoe did not impress
+you with the idea of superior knowledge, but I have been used to it from
+boyhood, and have shot rapids, been caught in gales, oh, almost
+everything!"</p>
+
+<p>"It was not that, Monsieur. We had seen the tree with its branches like
+so many clinging arms, and it was getting purple and dun as you came up,
+so we thought it best to warn."</p>
+
+<p>"And I obstinately ran right into danger, which shows how much good
+advice is thrown away. You see the paddle caught and over I went. But
+the first<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span> thing this morning some boatmen went down and removed it.
+However, I did not mind the wetting. It was not the first time."</p>
+
+<p>"And Monsieur did not take cold? The nights are chilly now along the
+river's edge. The sun slips down suddenly," was Pani's anxious comment.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no. I am inured to such things. I have been a traveler, too. It was
+a gay day yesterday, Mam'selle."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," answered Jeanne. Yet she had felt strangely solitary. "Your
+father, Monsieur, is in France. I have been learning about that
+country."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no, not yet. There was some business in Washington. To-morrow I
+leave Detroit to rejoin him in New York, from which place we set sail,
+though the journey is a somewhat dangerous one now, what with pirate
+ships and England claiming a right of search. But we shall trust a good
+Providence."</p>
+
+<p>"You go also," she said with a touch of disappointment. It gave a
+bewitching gravity to her countenance.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes. My father and I are never long apart. We are very fond of each
+other."</p>
+
+<p>"And your mother&mdash;" she asked hesitatingly.</p>
+
+<p>"I do not remember her, for I was an infant when she died. But my father
+keeps her in mind always. And I must give you his message."</p>
+
+<p>He took out a beautifully embossed leathern case with silver mountings
+and ran over the letters.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah&mdash;here. 'I want you to see my little friend,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span> Jeanne Angelot, and
+report her progress to me. I hope the school has not frightened her.
+Tell her there are little girls in other cities and towns who are
+learning many wonderful things and will some day grow up into charming
+women such as men like for companions. It will be hard and tiresome, but
+she must persevere and learn to write so that she can send me a letter,
+which I shall prize very highly. Give her my blessing and say she must
+become a true American and honor the country of which we are all going
+to feel very proud in years to come. But with all this she must never
+outgrow her love for her foster mother, to whom I send respect, nor her
+faith in the good God who watches over and will keep her from all harm
+if she puts her trust in him.'"</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne gave a long sigh. "O Monsieur, it is wonderful that people can
+talk this way on paper. I have tried, but the master could not help
+laughing and I laughed, too. It was like a snail crawling about and the
+pen would go twenty ways as if there was an evil sprite in my fingers.
+But I shall keep on although it is very tiresome and I have such a
+longing to be out in the fields and woods, chasing squirrels and singing
+to the birds, which sometimes light on my shoulder. And I know a good
+many English words, but the reading looks so funny, as if there were no
+sense to it!"</p>
+
+<p>"But there is a great deal. You will be very glad some day. Then I may
+take a good account to him and tell him you are trying to obey his
+wishes?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Monsieur, I shall be very glad to. And he will write me the letter
+that he promised?"</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed he will. He always keeps his promises. And I shall tell him you
+are happy and glad as a bird soaring through the air?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not always glad. Sometimes a big shadow falls over me and my breath
+throbs in my throat. I cannot tell what makes the strange feeling. It
+does not come often, and perhaps when I have learned more it will
+vanish, for then I can read books and have something for my thoughts.
+But I am glad a good deal of the time."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't wonder my father was interested in her," Laurent St. Armand
+thought. He studied the beautiful eyes with their frank innocence, the
+dainty mouth and chin, the proud, uplifted expression that indicated
+nobleness and no self-consciousness.</p>
+
+<p>"And now I must bid thee good-by with my own and my father's blessing.
+We shall return to America and find you again. You will hardly go away
+from Detroit?"</p>
+
+<p>She was quite ready at that moment to give up M. Bellestre's plans for
+her future.</p>
+
+<p>He took her hand. Then he pressed his lips upon it with the grave
+courtesy of a gentleman.</p>
+
+<p>"Adieu," he said softly. "Pani, watch well over her."</p>
+
+<p>The woman bowed her head with a deeper feeling than mere assent.</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne sat down on the doorstep, leaning her elbow on her knee and her
+chin in her hand. Grave<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span> thoughts were stirring within her, the
+awakening of a new life on the side she had seen, but never known. The
+beautiful young women quite different from the gay, chattering
+demoiselles, their proudly held heads, their dignity, their soft voices,
+their air of elegance and refinement, all this Jeanne Angelot felt but
+could not have put into words, not even into thought. And this young man
+was over on that side. Oh, all Detroit must lie between, from the river
+out to the farms! Could she ever cross the great gulf? What was it made
+the difference&mdash;education? Then she would study more assiduously than
+ever. Was this why Monsieur St. Armand was so earnest about her trying?</p>
+
+<p>She glanced down at her little brown hand. Oh, how soft and warm his
+lips had been, what a gentle touch! She pressed her own lips to it, and
+a delicious sensation sped through her small body.</p>
+
+<p>"What art thou dreaming about, Jeanne? Come to thy dinner."</p>
+
+<p>She glanced up with a smile. In a vague way she had known before there
+were many things Pani could not understand; now she felt the keen,
+far-reaching difference between them, between her and the De Bers, and
+Louis Marsac, and all the people she had ever known. But her mother, who
+could tell most about her, was dead.</p>
+
+<p>It was not possible for a glad young thing to keep in a strained mood
+that would have no answering comprehension, and Jeanne's love of nature
+was so overwhelming. Then the autumn at the West was so<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span> glowing, so
+full of richness that it stirred her immeasurably. She could hardly
+endure the confinement on some days.</p>
+
+<p>"What makes you so restless?" asked the master one noon when he was
+dismissing some scholars kept in until their slow wits had mastered
+their tasks. She, too, had been inattentive and willful.</p>
+
+<p>"I am part of the woods to-day, a chipmunk running about, a cricket
+which dares not chirp," and she glanced up into the stern eyes with a
+merry light, "a grasshopper who takes long strides, a bee who goes
+buzzing, a glad, gay bird who says to his mate, 'Come, let us go to the
+unknown land and spend a winter in idleness, with no nest to build, no
+hungry, crying babies to feed, nothing but just to swing in the trees
+and laugh with the sunshine.'"</p>
+
+<p>"Thou art a queer child. Come, say thy lesson well and we will spend the
+whole afternoon in the woods. Thou shalt consort with thy brethren the
+birds, for thou art brimming over."</p>
+
+<p>The others were dismissed with some added punishment. The master took
+out his luncheon. He was not overpaid, he had no family and lived by
+himself, sleeping in the loft over the school.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, come home with me!" the child cried. "Pani's cakes of maize are so
+good, and no one cooks fish with such a taste and smell. It would make
+one rise in the middle of the night."</p>
+
+<p>"Will the tall Indian woman give me a welcome?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Pani likes whomever I like;" with gay assurance.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"And dost thou like me, child?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, yes." She caught his hand in both of hers. "Sometimes you are
+cross and make ugly frowns, and often I pity the poor children you beat,
+but I know, too, they deserve it. And you speak so sharp! I used to jump
+when I heard it, but now I only give a little start, and sometimes just
+smile within, lest the children should see it and be worse. It is a
+queer little laugh that runs down inside of one. Come, Pani will be
+waiting."</p>
+
+<p>She took his hand as they picked their way through the narrow streets,
+having to turn out now and then for a loaded wheelbarrow, or two men
+carrying a big plank on their shoulders, or a heavy burthen, one at each
+end. For there were some streets not even a wagon and two horses could
+get through.</p>
+
+<p>To the master's surprise Pani did not even seem put out as Jeanne
+explained the waiting. Had fish toasted before the coals ever tasted so
+good? The sagamite he had learned to tolerate, but the maize cakes were
+so excellent it seemed as if he could never get enough of them.</p>
+
+<p>The golden October sun lay warm everywhere and was tinting the hills and
+forests with richness that glowed and glinted as if full of life. Afar,
+one could see the shine of the river, the distant lake, the undulations
+where the tall trees did not cut it off. Crows were chattering and
+scolding. A great flock of wild geese passed over with their hoarse,
+mysterious cry, and shaped like two immense wings each side of their
+leader.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Now you shall tell me about the other countries where you have been,"
+and Jeanne dropped on the soft turf, motioning him to be seated.</p>
+
+<p>In all his journeying through the eastern part of the now United
+Colonies, he thought he had never seen a fairer sight than this. It
+warmed and cheered his old heart. And sure he had never had a more
+enraptured listener.</p>
+
+<p>But in a brief while the glory of wood and field was gone. The shriveled
+leaves were blown from the trees by the fierce gusts. The beeches stood
+like bare, trembling ghosts, the pines and firs with their rough dark
+tops were like great Indian wigwams and were enough to terrify the
+beholder. Sharp, shrill cries at night of fox and wolf, the rustle of
+the deer and the slow, clumsy tread of the bear, the parties of Indians
+drawing nearer civilization, braves who had roamed all summer in
+idleness returning to patient squaws, told of the approach of winter.</p>
+
+<p>New pickets were set about barns and houses, and coverings of skin made
+added warmth. The small flocks were carefully sheltered from marauding
+Indians. Doors and windows were hung with curtains of deer skins, floors
+were covered with buffalo or bear hide, and winter garments were brought
+out. Even inside the palisade one could see a great change in apparel
+and adornment. The booths were no longer invitingly open, but here and
+there were inns and places of evening resort where the air was not only
+enough to stifle one, but so blue with smoke you could hardly see your
+neighbor's face. No merry<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span> parties sang songs upon the river nor went up
+to the lake in picnic fashion.</p>
+
+<p>Still there was no lack of hearty good cheer. On the farms one and
+another gave a dance to celebrate some special occasion. There was
+husking corn and shelling it, there were meats and fish to be salted,
+some of it dried, for now the inhabitants within and without knew that
+winter was long and cold.</p>
+
+<p>They had sincerely mourned General Wayne. A new commandant had been
+sent, but the general government was poor and deeply in debt and there
+were many vexed questions to settle. So old Detroit changed very little
+under the new r&eacute;gime. There was some delightful social life around the
+older or, rather, more aristocratic part of the town, where several
+titled English people still remained. Fortnightly balls were given,
+dinners, small social dances, for in that time dancing was the amusement
+of the young as card playing was of the older ones.</p>
+
+<p>Then came days of whirling, blinding snow when one could hardly stir
+out, succeeded by sunshine of such brilliance that Detroit seemed a
+dazzle of gems. Parties had merry games of snowballing, there were
+sledging, swift traveling on skates and snowshoes, and if the days were
+short the long evenings were full of good cheer, though many a gruesome
+story was told of Pontiac's time, and the many evil times before that,
+and of the heroic explorers and the brave fathers who had gone to plant
+the cross and the lilies of France in the wilderness.</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne wondered that she should care so little for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span> the defection of the
+De Bers. Pierre passed her with a sullen nod when he met her face to
+face and sometimes did not notice her at all. Marie was very important
+when she recovered from the surprise that a man should want to marry
+her, and that she should be the first of Delisse Graumont's maids to
+marry, she who was the youngest of them all.</p>
+
+<p>"I had a beau in my cup at the tea drinking, and he was holding out his
+hand, which was a sign that he would come soon. And, Rose, I mean to
+have a tea drinking. I hope you will get the beau."</p>
+
+<p>"I am in no hurry," and Rose tossed her pretty head.</p>
+
+<p>Marie and her mother went down to the Beeson house to see what
+plenishings were needed. It was below the inclosure, quite a farm, in
+the new part running down to the river, where there was a dock and a
+rough sort of basin, quite a boat yard, for Antoine Beeson had not yet
+aspired to anything very grand in ship building. They pulled out the
+great fur rugs and hangings and put the one up and the other down, and
+Antoine coming in was so delighted with the homelikeness that he caught
+his betrothed about the waist and whirled her round and round.</p>
+
+<p>"Really, I think some day I shall learn to dance," and he gave his
+broad, hearty laugh that Marie had grown quite accustomed to.</p>
+
+<p>Madame De Ber looked amazed and severe.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>CHAPTER IX.</h2>
+
+<h3>CHRISTMAS AND A CONFESSION.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Ah, how the bells rang out on Christmas morning! A soft, muffled sound
+coming through the roofs of white snow that looked like peaked army
+tents, the old Latin melody that had rejoiced many a heart and carried
+the good news round the world.</p>
+
+<p>It was still dark when Jeanne heard Pani stirring, and she sprang out of
+bed.</p>
+
+<p>"I am going to church with you, Pani," she declared in a tone that left
+no demur.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, child, if thou hadst listened to the good father and been
+confirmed, then thou mightst have partaken of the mass."</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne almost wished she had. But the schoolmaster had strengthened her
+opposition, or rather her dread, a little, quite unknowingly, and yet he
+had given her more reverence and a longing for real faith.</p>
+
+<p>"But I shall be thinking of the shepherds and the glad tidings. I
+watched the stars last night, they were so beautiful. 'And they came and
+stood over the place,' the schoolmaster read it to me. That was way over
+the other side of the world, Pani."</p>
+
+<p>The Indian woman shook her head. She was afraid of this strange
+knowledge, and she had a vague idea that it must have happened here in
+Detroit, since the Christ was born anew every year.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The stars were not all gone out of the sky. The crisp snow crunched
+under their feet, although the moccasins were soft and warm; and
+everybody was muffled in furs, even to hoods and pointed caps. Some
+people were carrying lanterns, but they could find their way, straight
+along St. Anne's street. The bell kept on until they stood in the church
+porch.</p>
+
+<p>"Thou wilt sit here, child."</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne made no protest. She rather liked being hidden here in the
+darkness.</p>
+
+<p>There were the De Bers, then Marie and her lover, then Rose and Pierre.
+How much did dull Pierre believe and understand? The master's faith
+seemed simpler to her.</p>
+
+<p>A little later was the regular Christmas service with the altar decked
+in white and gold and the two fathers in their beautiful robes of
+rejoicing, the candlesticks that had been sent from France a century
+before, burnished to their brightest and the candles lighted. Behind the
+screen the sisters and the children sang hymns, and some in the
+congregation joined, though the men were much more at home in the music
+of the violins and in the jollity.</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne felt strangely serious, and half wished she was among the
+children. It was the fear of having to become a nun that deterred her.
+She could not understand how Berth&ecirc; Campeau could leave her ailing
+mother and go to Montreal for religion's sake. Madame Campeau was not
+able to stand the journey even if she had wanted to go, but she and her
+sister had had some differences, and, since Berth&ecirc;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span> would go, her son's
+wife had kindly offered to care for her.</p>
+
+<p>"And what there is left thou shalt have, Catherine," she said to her
+daughter-in-law. "None of my money shall go to Montreal. It would be
+only such a little while for Berth&ecirc; to wait. I cannot last long."</p>
+
+<p>So she had said for three years and Berth&ecirc; had grown tired of waiting.
+Her imagination fed on the life of devotion and exaltation that her aunt
+wrote about.</p>
+
+<p>At noon Marie De Ber was married. She shivered a little in her white
+gown, for the church was cold. Her veil fell all over her and no one
+could see whether her face was joyful or not. Truth to tell, she was
+sadly frightened, but everybody was merry, and her husband wrapped her
+in a fur cloak and packed her in his sledge. A procession followed, most
+of them on foot, for there was to be a great dinner at Tony Beeson's.</p>
+
+<p>Then, although the morning had been so lovely, the sky clouded over with
+leaden gray and the wind came in great sullen gusts from Lake Huron. You
+could hear it miles away, a fierce roar such as the droves of bisons
+made, as if they were breaking in at your very door. Pani hung the
+bearskin against the door and let down the fur curtains over the
+windows. There was a bright log fire and Jeanne curled up on one side in
+a wolfskin, resting her head on a cushion of cedar twigs that gave out a
+pleasant fragrance. Pani sat quietly on the other side. There was no
+light but the blaze. Neither was the Indian woman used to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span> the small
+industries some of the French took up when they had passed girlhood. In
+a slow, phlegmatic fashion she used to go over her past life, raising up
+from their graves, as it were, Madame de Longueil, Madame Bellestre, and
+then Monsieur, though he never came from the shadowy grave, but a garden
+that bore strange fruit, and where it was summer all the year round. She
+had the gift of obedient faith, so she was a good Catholic, as far as
+her own soul was concerned, but her duty toward the child often troubled
+her.</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne watched the blaze in a strange mood, her heart hot and angry at
+one moment, proud and indifferent at the next. She said a dozen times a
+day to herself that she didn't care a dead leaf for Marie, who had grown
+so consequential and haughty, and Rose, who was full of her own
+pleasure. It seemed as if other children had dropped out as well, but
+then in this cold weather she could not run out to the farms or lead a
+group of eager young people to see her do amazing feats. For she could
+walk out on the limb of a tree and laugh while it swung up and down with
+her weight, and then catch the limb of the next tree and fling herself
+over, amid their shouts. No boy dared climb higher. She had caught
+little owls who blinked at her with yellow eyes, but she always put them
+back in the trees again.</p>
+
+<p>"You wouldn't like to be carried away by fierce Indians," she said when
+the children begged they might keep them. "They like their homes and
+their mothers."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"As if an owl could tell who its mother was!" laughed a boy
+disdainfully.</p>
+
+<p>She had hardly known the feeling of loneliness. What did she do last
+winter, she wondered? O yes, she played with the De Ber children, and
+there were the Pallents, whom she seldom went to visit now, they seemed
+so very ignorant. Ah&mdash;if it would come summer again!</p>
+
+<p>"For the trees and the flowers and the birds are better than most
+people," she ruminated. It must be because everybody had gone out of her
+life that it appeared wide and strange. After all she did not care for
+the De Bers and yet it seemed as if she had been stabbed to the heart.
+Pierre and Marie had pretended to care so much for her. Then, in spite
+of her sadness, she laughed.</p>
+
+<p>"What is it amuses thee so, little one?" asked the Indian woman.</p>
+
+<p>"I am not old enough to have a lover, Pani, am I?" and she looked out of
+her furry wrap.</p>
+
+<p>"No, child, no. What folly! Marie's wedding has set thee astray."</p>
+
+<p>"And Pierre is a slow, stupid fellow."</p>
+
+<p>"Pierre would be no match for thee, and I doubt if the De Bers would
+countenance such a thing if he were older. That is nonsense."</p>
+
+<p>"Pierre asked me to be his wife. He said twice that he wanted to marry
+me&mdash;at the raising of the flag, when we were on the water, and one
+Sunday in the autumn. I am not as old as Rose De Ber, even, so Marie
+need not feel set upon a pinnacle<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span> because Tony Beeson marries her when
+she is barely fifteen."</p>
+
+<p>"Jeanne!" Pani's tone was horror stricken. "And it will make no end of
+trouble. Madame De Ber is none too pleasant now."</p>
+
+<p>"It will make no trouble. I said 'no' and 'no' and 'no,' until it was
+like this mighty wind rushing through the forest, and he was very angry.
+So I should not go to the De Bers any more. And, Pani, if I had a father
+who would make me marry him when I was older, I should go and throw
+myself into the Strait."</p>
+
+<p>"His father sends him up in the fur country in the spring."</p>
+
+<p>"What makes people run crazy when weddings are talked of? But if I
+wanted to hold my head high and boast&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, child, you could not be so silly!"</p>
+
+<p>"No, Pani. And I shall be glad to have him go away. I do not want any
+lovers."</p>
+
+<p>The woman was utterly amazed, and then consoled herself with the thought
+that it was merely child's play. They both lapsed into silence again.
+But Jeanne's thoughts ran on. There was Louis Marsac. What if he
+returned next summer and tormented her? A perplexing mood, half pride,
+half disgust, filled her, and a serious elation at her own power which
+thrills young feminine things when they first discover it; as well as
+the shrinking into a new self-appropriation that thrusts out all such
+matters. But she did not laugh over Louis Marsac. She felt afraid of
+him,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span> and she scrubbed her mouth where he had once kissed it.</p>
+
+<p>There was another kiss on her hand. She held it up in the firelight. Ah,
+if she had a father like M. St. Armand, and a brother like the young
+man!</p>
+
+<p>She was seized with an awful pang as if a swift, dark current was
+bearing her away from every one but Pani. Why had her father and mother
+been wrenched out of her life? She had seen a plant or a young shrub
+swept out of its rightful place and tossed to and fro until some
+stronger wave threw it upon the sandy edge, to droop and die. Was she
+like that? Where had she been torn from? She had been thrown into Pani's
+lap. She had never minded the little jeers before when the children had
+called her a wild Indian. Was she nobody's child?</p>
+
+<p>She had an impulse to jump about and storm around the room, to drag some
+secret out of Pani, to grasp the world in her small hands and compel it
+to disclose its knowledge. She looked steadily into the red fire and her
+heart seemed bursting with the breath that could not find an outlet.</p>
+
+<p>The bells began to ring again. "Come," "come," they said. Had she better
+not go to the sisters and live with them? The Church would be father and
+mother.</p>
+
+<p>She bent down her head and cried very softly, for it seemed as if all
+joy had gone out of her life. Pani fell asleep and snored.</p>
+
+<p>But the next morning the world was lovelier than ever with the new
+fallen snow. Men were shoveling<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span> it away from doorways and stamping it
+down in the streets with their great boots, the soles being wooden and
+the legs of fur. And they snowballed each other. The children joined and
+rolled in the snow. Now and then a daring young fellow caught a
+demoiselle and rubbed roses into her cheeks.</p>
+
+<p>All the rest of the week was given over to holiday life. There were
+great doings at the Citadel and in some of the grand houses. There were
+dances and dinners, and weddings so brilliant that Marie De Ber's was
+only a little rushlight in comparison.</p>
+
+<p>The master went down to Marietta for a visit. Jeanne seemed like a
+pendulum swinging this way and that. She was lonely and miserable. One
+day the Church seemed a refuge, the next she shrank with a sort of
+terror and longed for spring, as a drowning man longs for everything
+that promises succor.</p>
+
+<p>One morning Monsieur Loisel, the notary, came in with a grave and solemn
+mien.</p>
+
+<p>"I have news for thee, Pani and Mam'selle, a great word of sorrow, and
+it grieves me to be the bearer of it. Yet the good Lord has a right to
+his own, for I cannot doubt but that Madame Bellestre's intercession has
+been of some avail. And Monsieur Bellestre was an upright, honorable,
+kindly man."</p>
+
+<p>"Monsieur Bellestre is dead," said Pani with the shock of a sudden
+revelation.</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne stood motionless. Then he could never come back! And, oh, what if
+Monsieur St. Armand never came back!</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. Heaven rest his soul, say I, and so does<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span> the good Father Rameau.
+For his gift to the Church seems an act of faith."</p>
+
+<p>"And Jeanne?" inquired the woman tremblingly.</p>
+
+<p>"It is about the child I have come to talk. Monsieur Bellestre has made
+some provision for her, queerly worded, too."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, he does not take her away from me!" cried the foster mother in
+anguish.</p>
+
+<p>"No. He had some strange notions not in accord with the Church, we all
+know, that liberty to follow one's opinion is a good thing. It is not
+always so in worldly affairs even, but of late years it has come largely
+in vogue in religious matters. And here is the part of his will that
+pertains to her. You would not understand the preamble, so I will tell
+it in plain words. To you, Pani, is given the house and a sum of money
+each year. To the child is left a yearly portion until she is sixteen,
+then, if she becomes a Catholic and chooses the lot of a sister, it
+ceases. Otherwise it is continued until she is married, when she is
+given a sum for a dowry. And at your death your income reverts to the
+Bellestre estate."</p>
+
+<p>"Monsieur Bellestre did not want me to become a nun, then?"</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne asked the question gravely as a woman.</p>
+
+<p>"It seems not, Mam'selle. He thinks some one may come to claim you, but
+that is hardly probable after all these years;" and there was a dryness
+in the notary's tone. "You are to be educated, but I think the sisters
+know better what is needful for a girl. There are no restrictions,
+however. I am to see that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span> the will is carried out, and the new court is
+to appoint what is called a guardian. The money is to be sent to me
+every six months. It surely is a great shame Mam'selle has no male
+relatives."</p>
+
+<p>"Shall we have to change, Monsieur?" asked Pani with a dread in her
+voice.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no; unless Mam'selle should&mdash;" he looked questioningly at the girl.</p>
+
+<p>"I shall never leave Pani." She came and stretching up clasped her arms
+about the woman's neck as she had in her babyhood. "And I like to go to
+school to the master."</p>
+
+<p>"M. Bellestre counts this way, that you were three years old when you
+came to Detroit. That was nine years ago. And that you are twelve now.
+So there are four years&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"It looks a long while, but the past does not seem so. Why, last winter
+is like the turn of your hand," and she turned hers over with a smile.</p>
+
+<p>"Many things may happen in four years." No doubt she would have a lover
+and marry. "Let me go over it again."</p>
+
+<p>They both listened, Jeanne wide-eyed, Pani nodding her head slowly.</p>
+
+<p>"I must tell you that M. Bellestre left fifty pounds to Father Rameau
+for any purpose he considered best. And now the court will take it in
+hand, but these new American courts are all in confusion and very slow.
+Still, as there is to be no change, and the money will come through me
+as before, why, there will be no trouble."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Pani nodded again but made no comment. She could hardly settle her mind
+to the fact of Monsieur Bellestre's death.</p>
+
+<p>"Allow me to congratulate you, Mam'selle, on having so sincere a
+friend." M. Loisel held out his hand.</p>
+
+<p>"If he had but come back! I do not care for the money."</p>
+
+<p>"Still, money is a very good thing. Well, we will have several more
+talks about this. Adieu, Mam'selle. My business is ended at present."</p>
+
+<p>He bowed politely as he went out; but he thought, "It is a crazy thing
+leaving her to the care of that old Indian woman. Surely he could not
+have distrusted Father Rameau? And though the good father is quite
+sure&mdash;well, it does not do for anyone to be too sure in this world."</p>
+
+<p>Father Rameau came that very afternoon and had a long talk with Pani. He
+did not quite understand why M. Bellestre should be so opposed to the
+Church taking charge of the child, since she was not in the hands of any
+relative. But he had promised Pani she should not be separated from her,
+indeed, no one had a better right to her, he felt.</p>
+
+<p>M. Bellestre's family were strong Huguenots, and had been made to suffer
+severely for their faith in Old France, and not a little in the new
+country. He had not cordially loved the English, but he felt that the
+larger liberty had been better for the settlement, and that education
+was the foe to superstition and bigotry, as well as ignorance. While he
+admitted to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span> himself, and frankly to the town, the many excellencies of
+the priest, it was the system, that held the people in bondage and
+denied enlightenment, that he protested against. It was with great pain
+that he had discovered his wife's gradual absorption, but knowing death
+was at hand he could not deny her last request. But the child should
+choose for herself, and, if under Pani's influence she should become a
+Catholic, he would not demur. From time to time he had accounts from M.
+Loisel, and he had been pleased with the desire of the child for
+education. She should have that satisfaction.</p>
+
+<p>And now spring was coming again. The sense of freedom and rejoicing
+broke out anew in Jeanne, but she found herself restrained by some
+curious power that was finer than mere propriety. She was growing older
+and knowledge enlarged her thoughts and feelings, stirred a strange
+something within her that was ambition, though she knew it not; she had
+not grown accustomed to the names of qualities.</p>
+
+<p>The master was taking great pride in her, and gave her the few
+advantages within his reach. Detroit was being slowly remodeled, but it
+was discouraging work, since the French settlers were satisfied with
+their own ways, and looked with suspicion on improvements even in many
+simple devices for farming.</p>
+
+<p>With the fur season the town was in wild confusion and holiday jollity
+prevailed. There were Indians with packs; and the old race of the
+<i>coureurs des bois</i>, who were still picturesque with their red sashes
+and jaunty habiliments. They were wild men of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span> woods, who had thrown
+off the restraints of civilized life and who hunted as much for the
+pleasure as the profit. They could live in a wigwam, they could join
+Indian dances, they were brave, hardy, but in some instances savage as
+the Indians themselves and quite as lawless. A century ago they had been
+the pioneers of the fur hunters, with many a courageous explorer among
+them. The newer organizations of the fur companies had curtailed their
+power and their numbers had dwindled, but they kept up their wild
+habits, and this was the carouse of the whole year.</p>
+
+<p>It was a busy season. There was great chaffering, disputing, and not a
+few fights, though guards were detailed along the river front to keep
+the peace as far as was possible. Boats were being loaded for Montreal,
+cargoes to be shipped down the Hudson and from thence abroad, with mink
+and otter and beaver, beautiful fox furs, white wolf and occasionally a
+white bear skin that dealers would quarrel about.</p>
+
+<p>Then the stores of provisions to be sent back to the trappers and
+hunters, the clothes and blankets and trinkets for the Indians, kept
+shopkeepers busy day and night, and poured money into their coffers. New
+men were going out,&mdash;to an adventurous young fellow this seemed the
+great opportunity of his life.</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne Angelot's fortune had been noised abroad somewhat, though she
+paid little attention to it even in her thoughts. But she was a girl
+with a dowry now, and she was not only growing tall but strangely pretty
+as well. Her skin was fairer, her hair, which<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span> still fell in loose
+curls, was kept in better order. Coif she would not wear, but sometimes
+she tied a bright kerchief under her chin and looked bewitching.</p>
+
+<p>French mothers of sons were never averse to a dowry, although men were
+so in want of wives that few went begging for husbands. Women paused to
+chat with Pani and make kindly inquiries about her charge. Even Madame
+De Ber softened. She was opposed to Pierre's going north with the
+hunters, but he was so eager and his father considered it a good thing.
+And now he was a strapping big fellow, taller than his father, slowly
+shaping up into manhood.</p>
+
+<p>"Thou hast not been to visit Marie?" she said one day on meeting Jeanne
+face to face. "She has spoken of it. Last year you were such a child,
+but now you have quite grown and will be companionable. All the girls
+have visited her. Her husband is most excellent."</p>
+
+<p>"I have been busy with lessons," said Jeanne with some embarrassment.
+Then, with a little pride&mdash;"Marie dropped me, and if I were not to be
+welcome&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Chut! chut! Marie had to put on a little dignity. A child like you
+should bear no malice."</p>
+
+<p>"But&mdash;she sent me no invitation."</p>
+
+<p>"Then I must chide her. And it will be pleasant down there in the
+summer. Do you know that Pierre goes back with the hunters?"</p>
+
+<p>"I have heard&mdash;yes."</p>
+
+<p>"It is not my wish, but if he can make money in his youth so much the
+better. And the others are<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span> growing up to fill his place. Good day to
+thee, Jeanne."</p>
+
+<p>That noon Madame De Ber said to her husband, "Jeanne Angelot improves
+greatly. Perhaps the school will do her no harm. She is rather sharp
+with her replies, but she always had a saucy tongue. A girl needs a
+mother to correct her, and Pani spoils her."</p>
+
+<p>"She will have quite a dowry, I have heard," remarked her husband.</p>
+
+<p>Pierre flushed a little at this pleasant mention of her name. If Jeanne
+only walked down in the town like some of the girls! If Rose might ask
+her to go!</p>
+
+<p>But Rose did not dare, and then there was Martin ready to waylay her.
+Three were awkward when you liked best to have a young man to yourself.</p>
+
+<p>How many times Pierre had watched her unseen, her lithe figure that
+seemed always atilt even when wrapped in furs, and her starry eyes
+gleaming out of her fur hood. Not even Rose could compare with her in
+that curious daintiness, though Pierre would have been at loss to
+describe it, since his vocabulary was limited, but he felt it in every
+slow beating pulse. He had resolved to speak, but she never gave him the
+opportunity. She flashed by him as if she had never known him.</p>
+
+<p>But he must say good-by to her. There was Madelon Dace, who had
+quarreled with her lover and gone to a dance with some one else and held
+her head high, never looking to the right or the left, and then as
+suddenly melted into sweetness and they would be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span> married. Yet Madelon
+had said to his sister Marie, "I will never speak to him, never!" What
+had he done to offend Jeanne so deeply? Girls were not usually angered
+at a man falling in love with them.</p>
+
+<p>So Pierre's pack was made up. In the autumn they could send again. He
+took tea the last time with Marie. The boats were all ready to start up
+the Huron.</p>
+
+<p>He went boldly to the little cottage and said courageously to Pani,
+though his heart seemed to quake almost down to his feet, "I am going
+away at noon. I have come to say good-by to Jeanne&mdash;and to you," put in
+as an afterthought.</p>
+
+<p>"What a great fellow you are, Pierre! I wish you good luck. Jeanne&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne had almost forgotten her childish anger, and the love making was
+silly, even in remembrance.</p>
+
+<p>"Surely I wish thee good luck, Pierre," she said formally, with a smile
+not too warm about her rosy lips. "And a fortunate hunting and trading."</p>
+
+<p>"A safe return, Mam'selle, put that in," he pleaded.</p>
+
+<p>"A safe return."</p>
+
+<p>Then they shook hands and he went his way, thinking with great comfort
+that she had not flouted him.</p>
+
+<p>It was quite a great thing to see the boats go out. Sweethearts and
+wives congregated on the wharves. Some few brave women went with their
+husbands. Other ships were setting out for Montreal well loaded, and one
+or two were carrying a gay lot of passengers.</p>
+
+<p>After a few weeks, quiet returned, the streets were<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span> no longer crowded
+and the noisy reveling was over for a while. The farmers were busy out
+of doors, cattle were lowing, chanticleer rang out his call to work in
+the early morn, and busy hens were caroling in cheerful if unmusical
+voices. Trees budded into a beautiful haze and then sprang into leaf,
+into bloom. The rough social hilarity was over for a while.</p>
+
+<p>A few of the emigrant farmers laughed at the clumsy, wasteful French
+methods and tried their own, which were laughed at in turn, but there
+was little disputing.</p>
+
+<p>Easter had fallen early and it had been cold, but Whitsuntide made
+amends, and was, if anything, a greater festival. For a procession
+formed at St. Anne's, young girls in gala attire, smart, middle-aged
+women with new caps and kerchiefs, husbands and sons, and not a few
+children, and marched out of the Pontiac gate, as it was called in
+remembrance of the long siege. Forty years before Jacques Campeau had
+built the first little outside chapel on his farm, which had a great
+stretch of ground. The air was full of the fragrance of fruit blossoms
+and hardly needed incense. Ah, how beautiful it was in a sort of
+pastoral simplicity! And after saying mass, Father Frechette blessed and
+prayed for fertile fields and good crops and generous hearts that tithes
+might not be withheld, and the faithful rewarded. Then they went to the
+Fulcher farm, where, in a chapel not much more than a shrine, the
+service was again said with the people kneeling around in the grass. The
+farmers and good housewives placed more faith in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span> this than in the
+methods of the newcomers with their American wisdom. But it was a
+pleasing service. The procession changed about a little,&mdash;the young men
+walking with the demoiselles and whispering in their listening ears.</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne was with them. Madame De Ber was quite gracious, and Marie Beeson
+singled her out. It had been a cold winter and a backward spring and
+Marie had not gone anywhere. Tony was so exigent, and she laughed and
+bridled. It was a very happy thing to be married and have some one care
+for you. And soon she would give a tea drinking and she would send for
+Jeanne, who must be sure to come.</p>
+
+<p>But Jeanne had a strange, dreary feeling. She seemed between everything,
+no longer a child and not a woman, not a part of the Church, not a part
+of anything. She felt afraid of the future. Oh, what was her share of
+the bright, beautiful world?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>CHAPTER X.</h2>
+
+<h3>BLOOMS OF THE MAY.</h3>
+
+
+<p>The spring came in with a quickening glory. A fortnight ago the snow was
+everywhere, the skaters were still out on the streams, the young fellows
+having rough snowballing matches, then suddenly one morning the white
+blanket turned a faint, sickly, soft gray, and withered. The pallid
+skies grew blue, the brown earth showed in patches, there were cheerful
+sounds from the long-housed animals, rivulets were all afloat running in
+haste to swell the streams, and from thence to the river and the lakes.</p>
+
+<p>The tiny rings of fir and juniper brightened, the pine branches swelled
+with great furry buds, bursting open into pale green tassels that moved
+with every breath of wind. The hemlocks shot out feathery fronds, the
+spruce spikes of bluish green, the maples shook around red blossoms and
+then uncurled tiny leaves. The hickories budded in a strange, pale
+yellow, but the oaks stood sturdy with some of the winter's brown leaves
+clinging to them.</p>
+
+<p>The long farms outside the stockade awoke to new vigor as well.
+Everybody set to work, for the summer heats would soon be upon them, and
+the season was short. There was a stir in the town proper, as well.</p>
+
+<p>And now, at mid-May, when some of the crops<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span> were in, there was a day of
+merrymaking, beginning with a procession and a blessing of the fields,
+and then the fiddles were taken down, for the hard work lasting well
+into the evening made both men and women tired enough to go to bed
+early, when their morning began in the twilight.</p>
+
+<p>The orchards were abloom and sweetened all the air. The evergreens sent
+out a resinous, pungent fragrance, the grass was odorous with the night
+dews. The maypole was raised anew, for generally the winter winds
+blowing fiercely over from the great western lake demolished it, though
+they always let it stand as long as it would, and in the autumn again
+danced about it. It had been the old French symbol of welcome and good
+wishes to their Seigneurs, as well as to the spring. And now it was a
+legend of past things and a merrymaking.</p>
+
+<p>The pole had bunches of flowers tied here and there, and long streamers
+that it was fun to jerk from some one's hand and let the wind blow them
+away. Girls and youths did this to rivals, with mischievous laughter.</p>
+
+<p>The habitans were in their holiday garb, which had hardly changed for
+two hundred years except when it was put by for winter furs, clean blue
+tunics, scarlet caps and sashes, deerskin breeches trimmed with yellow
+or brown fringe, sometimes both, leggings and moccasins with bead
+embroidery and brightly dyed threads.</p>
+
+<p>There were shopkeepers, too, there were boatmen and Indians, and some of
+the quality with their wives<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span> in satin and lace and gay brocades.
+Soldiers as well in their military gear, and officers in buff and blue
+with cocked hats and pompons.</p>
+
+<p>The French girls had put on their holiday attire and some had festooned
+a light skirt over one of cloth and placed in it a bright bow. Gowns
+that were family heirlooms, never seeing day except on some festive
+occasion, strings of beads, belts studded with wampum shells,
+high-heeled shoes with a great buckle or bow, but not as easy to dance
+in as moccasins.</p>
+
+<p>Two years had brought more changes to the individual, or rather the
+younger part of the community, than to the town. A few new houses had
+been built, many old ones repaired and enlarged a little. The streets
+were still narrow and many of them winding about. The greatest signs of
+life were at the river's edge. The newer American emigrant came for land
+and secured it outside. Every week some of the better class English who
+were not in the fur trade went to Quebec or Montreal to be under their
+own rulers.</p>
+
+<p>There was not an entire feeling of security. Since Pontiac there had
+been no great Indian leader, but many subordinate chiefs who were very
+sore over the treaties. There was an Indian prophet, twin brother to the
+chief Tecumseh who afterward led his people to a bloody war, who used
+his rude eloquence to unite the warring tribes in one nation by wild
+visions he foresaw of their greatness.</p>
+
+<p>Marauding tribes still harassed parties of travelers, but about Detroit
+they were peaceable; and many<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span> joined in the festivities of a day like
+this. While as farm laborers they were of little worth, they were often
+useful at the wharves, and as boatmen.</p>
+
+<p>Two years had brought a strange, new life to Jeanne, so imperceptibly
+that she was now a puzzle to herself. The child had disappeared, the
+growing girl she hardly knew. The wild feats that had once been the
+admiration of the children pleased her no longer. The children had grown
+as well. The boys tilled the fields with their fathers, worked in shops
+or on the docks, or were employed about the Fort. Some few, smitten with
+military ardor, were in training for future soldiers. The field for
+girls had grown wider. Beside the household employments there were
+spinning and sewing. The Indian women had made a coarse kind of lace
+worked with beads that the French maidens improved upon and disposed of
+to the better class. Or the more hoydenish ones delighted to work in the
+fields with their brothers, enjoying the outdoor life.</p>
+
+<p>For a year Jeanne had kept on with her master, though at spring a wild
+impulse of liberty threatened to sweep her from her moorings.</p>
+
+<p>"Why do I feel so?" she inquired almost fiercely of the master.
+"Something stifles me! Then I wish I had been made a bird to fly up and
+up until I had left the earth. Oh, what glorious thing is in the bird's
+mind when he can look into the very heavens, soaring out of sight?"</p>
+
+<p>"There is nothing in the bird's mind, except to find a mate, build a
+nest and rear some young; to feed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span> them until they can care for
+themselves, and, though there is much romance about the mother bird,
+they are always eager to get rid of their offspring. He sings because
+God has given him a song, his language. But he has no thought of
+heaven."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, he must have!" she cried passionately.</p>
+
+<p>The master studied her.</p>
+
+<p>"Art thou ready to die, to go out of the world, to be put into the dark
+ground?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no! no!" Jeanne shuddered. "It is because I like to live, to
+breathe the sweet air, to run over the grass, to linger about the woods
+and hear all the voices. The pines have one tone, the hemlocks and
+spruces another, and the soft swish of the larches is like the last
+tender notes of some of the hymns I sing with the sisters occasionally.
+And the sun is so glorious! He clasps the baby leaves in his unseen
+hands and they grow, and he makes the blades of grass to dance for very
+joy. I catch him in my hands, too; I steep my face in the floods of
+golden light and all the air is full of stars. Oh, no, I would not,
+could not die! I would like to live forever. Even Pani is in no haste to
+die."</p>
+
+<p>"Thou art a strange child, surely. I have read of some such in books.
+And I wonder that the heaven of the nuns does not take more hold of
+thee."</p>
+
+<p>"But I do not like the black gowns, and the coifs so close over their
+ears, and the little rooms in which one is buried alive. For it seems
+like dying before one's time, like being half dead in a gay, glad world.
+Did not God give it to us to enjoy?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The master nodded. He wondered when she was in these strange moods. And
+he noticed that the mad pranks grew less, that there were days when she
+studied like a soul possessed, and paid little heed to those about her.</p>
+
+<p>But when a foreign letter with a great waxen seal came to her one day
+her delight knew no bounds. It was not a noisy joy, however.</p>
+
+<p>"Let us go out under the oak," she said to Pani.</p>
+
+<p>The children were playing about. Wenonah looked up from her work and
+smiled.</p>
+
+<p>"No, children," said Jeanne with a wave of the hand, "I cannot have you
+now. You may come to-morrow. This afternoon is all mine."</p>
+
+<p>It was a pleasant, grave, fatherly letter. M. St. Armand had found much
+to do, and presently he would go to England. Laurent was at a school
+where he should leave him for a year.</p>
+
+<p>"Listen," said Jeanne when they were both seated on the short turf that
+was half moss, "a grown man at school&mdash;is it not funny?" and she laughed
+gayly.</p>
+
+<p>"But there are young men sent to Quebec and Montreal, and to that
+southern town, New York. And young women, too. But I hope thou wilt know
+enough, Jeanne, without all this journeying."</p>
+
+<p>Pani studied her with great perplexity.</p>
+
+<p>"But he wants me to know many things&mdash;as if I were a rich girl! I know
+my English quite well and can read in it. And, Pani, how wonderful that
+a letter can talk as if one were beside you!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>She read it over and over. Some words she wondered at. The great city
+with its handsome churches and gardens and walks and palaces, how
+beautiful it must be! It was remarkable that she had no longing, envious
+feeling. She was so full of delight there was no room.</p>
+
+<p>They sat still a long while. She patted the thin, brown hand, then laid
+her soft cheek on it or made a cradle of it for her chin.</p>
+
+<p>"Pani," she said at length, "how splendid it would be to have M. St.
+Armand for one's father! I have never cared for any girl's father, but
+M. St. Armand would be gentle and kind. I think, too, he could smooth
+away all the sort of cobweb things that haunt one's brain and the
+thoughts you cannot make take any shape but go floating like drifts in
+the sky, until you are lost in the clouds."</p>
+
+<p>Pani looked over toward the river. Like the master, the child's strange
+thoughts puzzled her, but she was afraid they were wrong. The master
+wished that she could be translated to some wider living.</p>
+
+<p>It took Jeanne several days to answer her letter, but every hour was one
+of exultant joy. It gave her hardly less delight than the reception of
+his. Then it was to be sent to New York by Monsieur Fleury, who had
+dealings back and forth.</p>
+
+<p>There had been a great wedding at the Fleury house. Madelon had married
+a titled French gentleman and gone to Montreal.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!" cried Jeanne to Monsieur Fleury, "you will be very careful and not
+let it get lost. I took<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span> so much pains with it. And when it gets to New
+York&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"A ship takes it to France. See, child, there is all this bundle to go,
+and there are many valuable papers in it. Do not fear;" and he smiled.
+"But what has M. St. Armand to say to you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, many things about what I should learn. I have already studied much
+that he asked me to, and he will be very glad to hear that."</p>
+
+<p>M. Fleury smiled indulgently, and Jeanne with a proud step went down the
+paved walk bordered with flowers, a great innovation for that time. But
+his wife voiced his thoughts when she said:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Do you not think it rather foolish that Monsieur St. Armand should
+trouble his head about a child like that? No one knows to what sort of
+people she has belonged. And she will marry some habitan who cares
+little whether she can write a letter or not."</p>
+
+<p>"She will have quite a dowry. She ought to marry well. A little learning
+will not hurt her."</p>
+
+<p>"M. Bellestre must have known more than he confessed," with suspicion in
+her voice.</p>
+
+<p>M. Fleury nodded assentingly.</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne had been quite taken into Madame De Ber's good graces again. The
+money had worked wonders with her, only she did not see the need of it
+being spent upon an education. There was Pierre, who would be about the
+right age, but would she want Pierre to have that kind of a wife?</p>
+
+<p>Rose and Jeanne became very neighborly. Marie was a happy, commonplace
+wife, who really adored<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span> her rough husband, and was always extolling
+him. He had never learned to dance, but he was a swift skater, and could
+row with anybody in a match. Then there was a little son, not at all to
+Jeanne's liking, for he had a wide mouth and no nose to speak of.</p>
+
+<p>"He is not as pretty as Aurel," she said.</p>
+
+<p>"He will grow prettier," returned the proud grandmother, sharply.</p>
+
+<p>That autumn the old schoolmaster did not come back. Some other schools
+had been started. M. Loisel sounded his charge as to whether she would
+not go to Montreal to school, but she decisively declined.</p>
+
+<p>And now another spring had come, and Jeanne was a tall girl, but she
+would not put up her hair nor wear a coif. Father Rameau had been sent
+on a mission to St. Ignace. The new priest that came did not agree very
+well with Father Gilbert. He wanted to establish some Ursulines on a
+much stricter plan than the few sisters had been accustomed to, and
+there were bickerings and strained feelings. Beside, the Protestants
+were making some headway in the town.</p>
+
+<p>"It is not to be wondered at," said the new priest to many of his flock.
+"One could hardly tell what you are. There must be better regulations."</p>
+
+<p>"But we pay our tithes regularly. And Father Rameau&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I am tired of Father Rameau!" said the priest angrily. "And the
+fiddling and the dancing!"</p>
+
+<p>"I do not like the quarreling," commented Jeanne. "And in the little
+chapel they all agree. They worship God, and not the Saints or the
+Virgin."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"But the Virgin was a woman and is tender to us, and will intercede for
+us," interposed Pani.</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne went to the English school that winter but the children were not
+much to her mind.</p>
+
+<p>And now it was May, and Jeanne suddenly decided that she was tired of
+school.</p>
+
+<p>"Pierre has come home!" almost shouted Rose to the two sitting in the
+doorway. "And he is a big man with a heavy voice, and, would you
+believe, he fairly lifted mother off her feet, and she tried to box his
+ears, but could not, and we all laughed so. He will be at the F&ecirc;te
+to-morrow."</p>
+
+<p>"Come, Pani," Jeanne said quite early, "we will hunt for some flowers.
+Susette Mass said we were to bring as many as we could."</p>
+
+<p>"But&mdash;there will be the procession and the blessings&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"And you will like that. Then we can be first to put some flowers on the
+shrines, maybe."</p>
+
+<p>That won Pani. So together they went. At the edge of the wood wild
+flowers had begun to bloom, and they gathered handfuls. Little maple
+trees just coming up had four tiny red leaves that looked like a
+blossom.</p>
+
+<p>There under a great birch tree was a small wooden temple with a
+weather-beaten cross on top, and on a shelf inside, raised a little from
+the ground, stood a plaster cast of the Virgin. Jeanne sprinkled the
+white blossoms of the wild strawberry all around. Pani knelt and said a
+little prayer.</p>
+
+<p>Susette Mass ran to meet them.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Oh, how early you are!" she cried. "And how beautiful! Where did you
+find so many flowers? Some must go to the chapel."</p>
+
+<p>"There will be plenty to give to the chapel. There is another shrine
+somewhere."</p>
+
+<p>"And they say you are not a good Catholic!"</p>
+
+<p>"I would like to be good. Sometimes I try," returned Jeanne, softly, and
+her eyes looked like a saint's, Susette thought.</p>
+
+<p>Pani led the way to the other shrine and while the child scattered
+flowers and stood in silent reverence, Pani knelt and prayed. Then the
+throng of gayly dressed girls and laughing young men were coming from
+several quarters and the procession formed amid much chattering.</p>
+
+<p>Afterward there were games of various sorts, tests of strength, running
+and jumping, and the Indian game of ball, which was wilder and more
+exciting than the French.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, here you are!" exclaimed Rose De Ber. On one side was Martin
+Lavosse, a well-favored young fellow, and on the other a great giant, it
+seemed to Jeanne. For a moment she felt afraid.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, it isn't Jeanne Angelot?" Pierre caught both hands and almost
+crushed them, and looked into the deep blue eyes with such eagerness
+that the warm color flew to Jeanne's forehead. "Oh, how beautiful you
+have grown!"</p>
+
+<p>He bent down a little and uttered it in a whisper. Jeanne flushed and
+then was angry at herself for the rising color.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Pierre was fascinated anew. More than once in the two years he had
+smiled at his infatuation for the wild little girl who might be half
+Indian so far as anyone knew. No, not half&mdash;but very likely a little.
+What a temper she had, too! He had nearly forgotten all her charms. Of
+course it had been a childish intimacy. He had driven her in his dog
+sledge over the ice, he had watched her climb trees to his daring, they
+had been out in his father's canoe when she <i>would</i> paddle and he was
+almost afraid of tipping over. Really he had run risks of his life for
+her foolishness. And his foolishness had been in begging her to promise
+to marry him!</p>
+
+<p>He had seen quite a good deal of the world since, and been treated as a
+man. In his slow-thoughted fashion he saw her the same wild, willful,
+obstinate little thing. Rose was a young lady, that was natural, but
+Jeanne&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"They are going to dance. Hear the fiddles! It is one of the great
+amusements up there," indicating the North with his head. "Only half the
+time you dance with boys&mdash;young fellows;" and he gave a chuckling laugh.
+"You see there is a scarcity of women. The Indian girls stand a good
+chance. Only a good many of the men have left wives and children at
+home."</p>
+
+<p>"Did you like it?" Jeanne asked with interest.</p>
+
+<p>Pierre shrugged his broad shoulders.</p>
+
+<p>"At first I hated it. I would have run away, but if I had come back to
+Detroit everybody would have laughed and my father would have beaten me.
+Now<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span> he looks me over as if he knew I was worth something. Why, I am
+taller than he! And I have learned a great deal about making money."</p>
+
+<p>They were done tuning up the violins and all the air was soft with the
+natural melody of birds and whispering winds. This was broken by a
+stentorian shout, and men and maids fell into places. Pierre grasped
+Jeanne's hand so tightly that she winced. With the other hand he caught
+one of the streamers. There was a great scramble for them. And when, as
+soon as the dancing was in earnest, a young fellow had to let his
+streamer go in turning his partner, some one caught it and a merry shout
+rang through the group.</p>
+
+<p>"How stupid you are!" cried Rose to Martin. "Why did you not catch that
+streamer? Now we are on the outside." She pouted her pretty lips. "Are
+you bewitched with Pierre and Jeanne?"</p>
+
+<p>"How beautifully she dances, and Pierre for a clumsy, big fellow is not
+bad."</p>
+
+<p>Hugh Pallent had caught a streamer and held out his hand to Rose.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, amuse yourself with looking at them, Monsieur," returned Rose
+pettishly. "As for me, I came to dance," and Pallent whisked her off.</p>
+
+<p>Martin's eyes followed them, other eyes as well.</p>
+
+<p>Pierre threw his streamer with a sleight of hand one would hardly have
+looked for, and caught it again amid the cheers of his companions. Round
+they went, only once losing their place in the whole circle. The violins
+flew faster, the dancing grew almost furious, eyes sparkled and cheeks
+bloomed.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I am tired," Jeanne said, and lagging she half drew Pierre out of the
+circle.</p>
+
+<p>"Tired! I could dance forever with you."</p>
+
+<p>"But you must not. See how the mothers are watching you for a chance,
+and the girls will be proud enough to have you ask them."</p>
+
+<p>"I am not going to;" shrugging his square shoulders.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes, you are!" with a pretty air of authority.</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne saw envious eyes wandering in her direction. She did not know how
+she outshone most of the girls, with an air that was so different from
+the ordinary. Her white cotton gown had a strip of bright, curiously
+worked embroidery above the hem and around the square neck that gave her
+exquisite throat full play. The sleeves came to the elbow, and both
+hands and arms were beautiful. Her skin was many shades fairer, her
+cheeks like the heart of a rose, and her mouth dimpled in the corners.
+Her lithe figure had none of the squareness of the ordinary habitan, and
+every movement was grace itself.</p>
+
+<p>"If you will not dance, let us walk, then. I have so much to say&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"There will be all summer to say it in. And there is only one May dance.
+Susette!"</p>
+
+<p>Susette came with sparkling eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"This young man is dance bewitched. See how he has changed. We can
+hardly believe it is the Pierre we used to run races and climb trees
+with in nutting time. And he knows how to dance;" laughing.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Pierre held out his hand, but there was a shade of reluctance in his
+eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"I thought you were never going to throw over that great giant," said
+Martin Lavosse. "I suppose every girl will go crazy about him because he
+has been up north and made some money. His father has planned to take
+him into business. Jeanne, dance with me."</p>
+
+<p>"No, not now. I am tired."</p>
+
+<p>"I should think you would be, pulled around at that rate. Look, Susette
+can hardly keep up, and her braids have tumbled."</p>
+
+<p>"Did I look like that?" asked Jeanne with sudden disapprobation in her
+tone.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no, no! You were like&mdash;like the fairies and wood things old M&egrave;re
+Michaud tells of. Your hair just floated around like a cloud full of
+twilight&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"No, the black ones when the thunderstorm is coming on," she returned
+mischievously.</p>
+
+<p>"It was beautiful and full of waves. And you are so straight and slim.
+You just floated."</p>
+
+<p>"And you watched me and lost your streamer twice. Rose did not like it."</p>
+
+<p>He was a little jealous and a little vexed at Rose giving him the go by
+in such a pointed manner. He would get even with her.</p>
+
+<p>"Why did you go off so early? We all went up for you."</p>
+
+<p>"I wanted to gather flowers for the shrines."</p>
+
+<p>"But we could have gone, too."</p>
+
+<p>"No, it would have been too late. It was such a pleasure to Pani. She
+can't dance, you know."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Let us walk around and see the tables."</p>
+
+<p>They were being spread out on the green sward, planks raised a foot or
+so, for every one would sit on the grass. Some of the Indian women had
+booths, and were already selling birch and sassafras beer, pipes and
+tobacco, and maple sugar. Little ones were running helter-skelter,
+tumbling down and getting up without a whimper. Here a knot of men were
+playing cards or dominoes. It was a pretty scene, and needed only
+cavaliers and the glittering, stately stepping dames to make it a
+picture of old France.</p>
+
+<p>They were all tired and breathless with the dance presently, and threw
+themselves around on the grass for a bit of rest. There was laughing and
+chattering, and bright eyes full of mirth sent coquettish glances first
+on this side, then on that. Susette had borne off her partner in triumph
+to see her mother, and there were old neighbors welcoming and
+complimenting Pierre De Ber.</p>
+
+<p>"Pierre," said a stout fellow banteringly, "you have shown us your
+improvement in dancing. As I remember you were a rather clumsy boy, too
+big for your years. Now they are going to try feats of skill and
+strength. After that we shall have some of the Indian women run a race.
+Monsieur De Ber, we shall be glad to count you in, if you have the
+daring to compete with the stay-at-homes."</p>
+
+<p>"For shame, Hugh! What kind of an invitation is that? Pierre, you do not
+look as if you had spent all your prowess in dancing;" glancing
+admiringly at the big fellow.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"You will see. Give me a trial." Pierre was nettled at the first
+speaker's tone. "I have not been up on the Mich for nothing. You fellows
+think the river and Lake St. Clair half the world. You should see Lake
+Michigan and Lake Superior."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Pierre," spoke up another. "You used to be good on a jump. Come
+and try to distance us stay-at-homes, if you haven't grown too heavy."</p>
+
+<p>They were marking off a place for the jumping on a level, and at a short
+distance hurdles of different heights had been put up.</p>
+
+<p>Pierre had been the butt of several things in his boyish days, but,
+though a heavy lad, often excelled in jumping. The chaffing stirred his
+spirit. He would show what he could do. And Jeanne should see it. What
+did he care for Susette's shining eyes!</p>
+
+<p>Two or three supple young fellows, two older ones with a well-seasoned
+appearance, stood on the mark. Pierre eyed it.</p>
+
+<p>"No," he said, "it is not fair. I'm a sight heavier than those. And I
+won't take the glory from them. But if you are all agreed I'll try the
+other."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, man, the other is a deal harder."</p>
+
+<p>Pierre nodded indifferently.</p>
+
+<p>The first started like a young athlete; a running jump and it fell
+short. There was a great laugh of derision. But the second was more
+successful and a shout went up. The next one leaped over the mark. Four
+of them won.</p>
+
+<p>Rose was piqued that Martin should sit all this<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span> while on the grass
+chatting to Jeanne. She came around to them.</p>
+
+<p>"Pierre is going to jump," she announced. "I'm sorry, but they badgered
+him into it. They were really envious of his dancing."</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne rose. "I do wonder where Pani is!" she said. "Shall we go
+nearer?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Pani is with the Indian women over there at the booths. No, stay,
+Jeanne," and Rose caught her hand. "Look! look! Why, they might almost
+be birds. Isn't it grand? But&mdash;Pierre&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>She might have spared her anxiety. Pierre came over with a splendid
+flying leap, clearing the bar better than his predecessor. A wild shout
+went up and Pierre's hand was clasped and shaken with a hearty approval.
+The girls crowded around him, and all was noisy jollity. Jeanne simply
+glanced up and he caught her eye.</p>
+
+<p>"I have pleased her this time," he thought.</p>
+
+<p>The racing of the squaws, though some indeed were quite young girls, was
+productive of much amusement. This was the only trial that had a prize
+attached to it,&mdash;a beautiful blanket, for money was a scarce commodity.
+A slim, young damsel won it.</p>
+
+<p>"Jeanne," and Pierre bent over her, for, though she was taller than the
+average, he was head and almost shoulders above her, "Jeanne, you could
+have beaten them all."</p>
+
+<p>She flushed. "I do not run races anymore," she returned with dignity.</p>
+
+<p>He sighed. "That was a happy old time. How<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span> long ago it seems!
+Jeanne&mdash;are you glad to see me? You are so&mdash;so grave. And all the time I
+have been thinking of the child&mdash;I forgot you were to grow."</p>
+
+<p>Some one blew a horn long and loud that sent echoes among the trees a
+thousand times more beautiful than the sound itself. The tables, if they
+could be called that, were spread, and in no time were surrounded by
+merry, laughing, chatting groups, who brought with them the appetites of
+the woods and wilds, hardly leaving crumbs for the birds.</p>
+
+<p>After that there was dancing again and rambling around, and Pierre was
+made much of by the mothers. It was a proud day for Madame De Ber, and
+she glanced about among the girls to see whom of them she would choose
+for a daughter-in-law. For now Pierre could have his pick of them all.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>CHAPTER XI.</h2>
+
+<h3>LOVE, LIKE THE ROSE, IS BRIERY.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Jeanne Angelot sat in the doorway in the moonlight silvering the street.
+There were so many nooks and places in shadow that everything had a
+weird, fantastic look. The small garrison were quiet, and many of them
+asleep by nine o'clock. Early hours was the rule except in what were
+called the great houses. But in this out of the way nook few pedestrians
+ever passed in the evening.</p>
+
+<p>"Child, are you not coming to bed? Why do you sit there? You said you
+were tired."</p>
+
+<p>Pani was crooning over a handful of fire. The May sunshine had not
+penetrated all the houses, and her old blood had lost its heat.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I was. What with the dancing and the walking about and all I was
+very weary. I want to get rested. It is so quiet and lovely."</p>
+
+<p>"You can rest in bed."</p>
+
+<p>"I want to stay here a little while longer. Do not mind me, but go to
+bed yourself."</p>
+
+<p>The voice was tender, persuasive, but Pani did not stir. Now and then
+she felt uncertain of the child.</p>
+
+<p>"Was it not a happy day to you, <i>ma fille?</i>"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," with soft brevity.</p>
+
+<p>Had it been happy? At different times during the past two years a
+curious something, like a great wave,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span> had swept over her, bearing her
+away, yet slowly she seemed to float back. Only it was never quite the
+same&mdash;the shores, the woods, the birds, the squirrels, the deer that
+came and looked at her with unafraid eyes, impressed her with some new,
+inexplicable emotion. What meaning was behind them?</p>
+
+<p>But to-night she could not go back. She had passed the unknown boundary.
+Her limited knowledge could not understand the unfolding, the budding of
+womanhood, whose next change was blossoming. It had been a day of varied
+emotions. If she could have run up the hillside with no curious eyes
+upon her, sung with the birds, gathered great handfuls of daisies and
+bell flowers, tumbled up the pink and yellow fungus that grew around the
+tree roots, studied the bits of crisp moss that stood up like sentinels,
+with their red caps, and if you trod on them bristled up again, or if
+she could have climbed the trees and swung from branch to branch in the
+wavering flecks of sunshine as she did only such a little while ago, all
+would have been well. What was it restrained her? Was it the throng of
+people? She had enjoyed startling them with a kind of bravado. That was
+childhood. Ah, yes. Everybody grew up, and these wild antics no longer
+pleased. Oh, could she not go back and have it all over again?</p>
+
+<p>She had danced and laughed. Pierre had tried to keep her a good deal to
+himself, but she had been elusive as a golden mote dancing up and down.
+She seemed to understand what this sense of appropriating meant, and she
+did not like it.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>And then Martin Lavosse had been curious as well. Rose and he were not
+betrothed, and Rose was like a gay humming bird, sipping pleasure and
+then away. Madame De Ber had certainly grown less strict. But Martin was
+still very young and poor, and Rose could do better with her pretty
+face. Like a shrewd, experienced person she offered no opposition that
+would be like a breeze to a smoldering flame. There was Edouard Loisel,
+the notary's nephew, and even if he was one of the best fiddlers in
+town, he had a head for business as well, and was a shrewd trader. M.
+Loisel had no children of his own and only these two nephews, and if
+Edouard fancied Rose before Martin was ready to speak&mdash;so the mother had
+a blind eye for Rose's pretty coquetries in that direction; but Rose did
+not like to have Martin quite so devoted to any other girl as he seemed
+to be to Jeanne.</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne had not liked it at all. She had been good friends and comrades
+with the boys, but now they were grown and had curious ideas of holding
+one's hand and looking into one's eyes that intensified the new feeling
+penetrating every pulse. If only she might run away somewhere. If Pani
+were not so old they would go to the other side of the mountain and
+build a hut and live together there. She did not believe the Indians
+would molest them. Anything to get away from this strange burthen
+pressing down upon her that she knew not was womanhood, and be free once
+more.</p>
+
+<p>She rose presently and went in. Pani was a heap<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span> in the chimney corner,
+she saw her by the long silver ray that fell across the floor.</p>
+
+<p>"Pani! Pani!" she cried vehemently.</p>
+
+<p>Her arms were around the neck and the face was lifted up, kissed with a
+fervor she had never experienced before.</p>
+
+<p>"My little one! my little one!" sighed the woman.</p>
+
+<p>"Come, let us go to bed." There was an eagerness in the tone that
+comforted the woman.</p>
+
+<p>The next morning Detroit was at work betimes. There was no fashion of
+loitering then; when the sun flung out his golden arrows that dispelled
+the night, men and women were cheerfully astir.</p>
+
+<p>"I must go and get some silk for Wenonah; she has some embroidery to
+finish for the wife of one of the officers," exclaimed Jeanne. "And then
+I will take it to her."</p>
+
+<p>So if Pierre dropped in&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>There were some stores down on St. Louis street where the imported goods
+from Montreal and Quebec were kept. Laces and finery for the quality,
+silks and brocades, hard as the times were. Jeanne tripped along gayly.
+She would be happy this morning anyhow, as if she was putting off some
+impending evil.</p>
+
+<p>"Take care, child! Ah, it is Jeanne Angelot. Did I run over thee, or
+thou over me?" laughing. "I have not on my glasses, but I ought to see a
+tall slip of a girl like thee."</p>
+
+<p>"Pardon, Monsieur. I was in haste and heedless."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I have something for thee that will gladden thy heart&mdash;a letter. Let me
+see&mdash;" beginning to search his pockets, and then taking out a great
+leathern wallet. "No?" staring in surprise. "Then I must have left it on
+my desk at home. Canst thou spend time to run up and get it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, gladly." The words had a ring of joy that touched the man's heart.</p>
+
+<p>"It is well, Mam'selle, that it comes from the father, since it is
+received with such delight."</p>
+
+<p>She did not catch the double meaning. Indeed, Laurent was far from her
+thoughts.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you a thousand times," with her radiant smile, and he carried the
+bright face into his dingy warehouse.</p>
+
+<p>She went on her way blithe as the gayest bird. A letter from M. St.
+Armand! It had been so long that sometimes she was afraid he might be
+dead, like M. Bellestre. The birds were singing. "A letter," they
+caroled; "a letter, a l-e-t-t-e-r," dwelling on every sound with
+enchanting tenderness.</p>
+
+<p>The old Fleury house overlooked the military garden to the west, and the
+river to the east. There had been an addition built to it, a wing that
+placed the hall in the middle. It was wide, and the door at each end was
+set open. At the back were glimpses of all kinds of greenery and the
+fragrance of blossoming shrubs. A great enameled jar stood midway of the
+hall and had in it a tall blooming rose kept through the winter indoors,
+a Spanish rose growing wild in its own country. The floor was polished,
+the fur rugs<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span> had been stowed away, and the curious Indian grass mats
+exhaled a peculiar fragrance. A bird cage hung up high and its inmate
+was warbling an exquisite melody. Jeanne stood quite still and a sense
+of harmonious beauty penetrated her, gave her a vague impression of
+having sometime been part and parcel of it.</p>
+
+<p>"What is it?" demanded the Indian servant. There were very few negroes
+in Detroit, and although there were no factories or mills, French girls
+seldom hired out for domestics.</p>
+
+<p>"Madame Fleury&mdash;Monsieur sent me for a letter lying on his desk," Jeanne
+said in a half hesitating manner.</p>
+
+<p>The servant stepped into the room to consult her mistress. Then she said
+to Jeanne:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Walk in here, Mademoiselle."</p>
+
+<p>The room was much more richly appointed than the hall, though the
+polished floor was quite bare. A great high-backed settee with a carved
+top was covered with some flowered stuff in which golden threads
+shimmered; there was a tall escritoire going nearly up to the ceiling,
+the bottom with drawers that had curious brass handles, rings spouting
+out of a dragon's mouth. There were glass doors above and books and
+strange ornaments and minerals on the shelves. On the high mantel, and
+very few houses could boast them, stood brass candlesticks and vases of
+colored glass that had come from Venice. There were some quaint
+portraits, family heirlooms ranged round the wall, and chairs with
+carved legs and stuffed backs and seats.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>On a worktable lay a book and a piece of lace work over a cushion full
+of pins. By it sat a young lady in musing mood.</p>
+
+<p>She, too, said, "What is it?" but her voice had a soft, lingering
+cadence.</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne explained meeting M. Fleury and his message, but her manner was
+shy and hesitating.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, then you are Jeanne Angelot, I suppose?" half assertion, half
+inquiry.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Mademoiselle," and she folded her hands.</p>
+
+<p>"I think I remember you as a little child. You lived with an Indian
+woman and were a"&mdash;no, she could not say "foundling" to this beautiful
+girl, who might have been born to the purple, so fine was her figure,
+her air, the very atmosphere surrounding her.</p>
+
+<p>"I was given to her&mdash;Pani. My mother had died," she replied, simply.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;a letter. Let me see." She rose and went through a wide open
+doorway. Jeanne's eyes followed her. The walls seemed full of arms and
+hunting trophies and fishing tackle, and in the center of the room a
+sort of table with drawers down one side.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, here. 'Mademoiselle Jeanne Angelot.'" She seemed to study the
+writing. She was quite pretty, Jeanne thought, though rather pale, and
+her silken gown looped up at the side with a great bow of ribbon, fell
+at the back in a long train. Her movements were so soft and gliding that
+the girl was half enchanted.</p>
+
+<p>"You still live with&mdash;with the woman?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"M. Bellestre gave her the house. It is small, but big enough for us
+two. Yes, Mademoiselle. Thank you," as she placed the letter in Jeanne's
+hand, and received in return an enchanting smile. With a courtesy she
+left the room, and walked slowly down the path, trying to think. Some
+girl, for there was gossip even in those days, had said that Mam'selle's
+lover had proved false to her, and married some one else in one of the
+southern cities. Jeanne felt sorry for her.</p>
+
+<p>Lisa Fleury wondered why so much beauty had been given to a girl who
+could make no use of it.</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne hugged her letter to her heart. It had been so long, so long that
+she felt afraid she would never hear again. She wanted to run every step
+of the way, last summer she would have. She almost forgot Wenonah and
+the silk, then laughed at herself, and outside of the palisades she did
+run.</p>
+
+<p>"You are so good," Wenonah said. "Look at this embroidery,&mdash;is it not
+grand? And that I used to color threads where now I can use beautiful
+silk. It shines like the sun. The white people have wonderful ways."</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne laughed and opened her letter. She could wait no longer. Oh,
+delightful news! She laughed again in sheer delight, soft, rippling
+notes.</p>
+
+<p>"What is it pleases thee so, Mam'selle?"</p>
+
+<p>"It is my friend who comes back, the grand Monsieur with the beautiful
+white beard, for whose sake I learned to write. I am glad I have learned
+so many things. By another spring he will be here!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Then Jeanne forgot the somber garment of womanhood that shadowed her
+last night, and danced in the very gladness of her heart. Wenonah smiled
+and then sighed. What if this man of so many years should want to marry
+the child? Such things had been. And there was that fine young De Ber
+just come home. But then, a year was a good while.</p>
+
+<p>"I must go and tell Pani," and she was off like a bird.</p>
+
+<p>Oh, what a glad day it was! The maypole and the dancing were as nothing
+to it. After she had told over her news and they had partaken of a
+simple meal, she dragged the Indian woman off to her favorite haunt in
+the woods, where three great tree boles made a pretty shelter and where
+Pani always fell asleep.</p>
+
+<p>Bees were out buzzing, their curious accompaniment to their work. Or
+were they scolding because flowers were not sweeter? Yellow butterflies
+made a dazzle in the air, that was transparent to-day. The white birches
+were scattering their last year's garments, and she gathered quite a
+roll. Ah, what a wonderful thing it was to live and breathe this
+fragrant air! It exhilarated her with joy as drinking wine might
+another. The mighty spirit of nature penetrated every pulse.</p>
+
+<p>From a little farther up she could see the blue waters, and the distant
+horizon seemed to bound the lake. Would she ever visit the grand places
+of the world? What was a great city such as Quebec like? Would she stay
+here for years and years and grow<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span> old like Pani? For somehow she could
+not fancy herself in a home with a husband like Marie Beeson, or Madelon
+Frech&eacute;, or several of the girls a little older than herself. The
+commonplaces of life, the monotonous work, the continual admiration and
+approval of one man who seemed in no way admirable would be slow death.</p>
+
+<p>"Which is a warning that I must not get married," she thought, and her
+gay laugh rippled under the trees in soft echoes.</p>
+
+<p>She felt more certain of her resolve that evening when Pierre came.</p>
+
+<p>"Where were you all the afternoon?" he said, almost crossly. "I was here
+twice. I felt sure you would expect me."</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne flushed guiltily. She knew she had gone to escape such an
+infliction, and she was secretly glad, yet somehow her heart pricked
+her.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, you surely have not forgotten that I live half the time in the
+woods;" glancing up mischievously.</p>
+
+<p>"Haven't you outgrown that? There was enough of it yesterday," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"You ought not to complain. What a welcome you had, and what a triumph,
+too!"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, that was not much. You should see the leaping and the wrestling up
+north. And the great bounds with the pole! That's the thing when one has
+a long journey. And the snowshoes&mdash;ah, that is the sport!"</p>
+
+<p>"You liked it up there?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I was desperately homesick at first. I had half a mind to run away. But
+when I once got really used to the people and the life&mdash;it was the
+making of me, Jeanne."</p>
+
+<p>He stretched up proudly and swelled up his broad chest, enjoying his
+manhood.</p>
+
+<p>"You will go back?" she asked, tentatively.</p>
+
+<p>"Well&mdash;that depends. Father wants me to stay. He begins to see that I am
+worth something. But pouf! how do people live in this crowded up town in
+the winter! It is dirtier than ever. The Americans have not improved it
+much. You see there is Rose and Angelique, before Baptiste, and he is
+rather puny, and father is getting old. Then, I could go up north every
+two or three years. Well, one finds out your worth when you go away."</p>
+
+<p>He gave a loud, rather exultant laugh that jarred on Jeanne. Why were
+these rough characteristics so repellant to her? She had lived with them
+all her short life. From whence came the other side of her nature that
+longed for refinement, cultivated speech, and manners? And people of
+real education, not merely the business faculty, the figuring and
+bargain making, were more to her taste. M. Fleury was a gentleman, like
+M. St. Armand.</p>
+
+<p>Pierre stretched out his long legs and crossed his feet, then slipped
+his hands into his pockets. He seemed to take up half the room.</p>
+
+<p>"What have you been doing all the time I was away?" he said, when the
+awkwardness of the silence began to oppress him.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Jeanne made a little crease in her forehead, and a curl came to the rose
+red lip.</p>
+
+<p>"I went to school until Christmas, then there was no teacher for a
+while. And when spring was coming I decided not to go back. I read at
+home. I have some books, and I write to improve myself. I can do it
+quite well in English. Then there is some one at the Fort, a sort of
+minister, who has a class down in the town, St. Louis street, and I go
+there."</p>
+
+<p>"Is the minister a Catholic?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," she answered, briefly.</p>
+
+<p>"That is bad." He shook his head disapprovingly. "But you go to church?"</p>
+
+<p>"There is a little chapel and I like the talk and the singing. I know
+two girls who go there. Sometimes I go with Pani to St. Anne's."</p>
+
+<p>"But you should go all the time, Jeanne. Religion is especially for
+women. They have the children to bring up and to pray for their
+husbands, when they are on voyages or in dangers."</p>
+
+<p>Pierre delivered this with an unpleasant air of masculine authority
+which Jeanne resented in her inmost soul. So she exclaimed rather
+curtly:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"We will not discuss religion, Monsieur Pierre."</p>
+
+<p>The young man looked amazed. He gave the fringe on his deerskin legging
+a sharp twitch.</p>
+
+<p>"You are still briery, Mam'selle. And yet you are so beautiful that you
+ought to be gentle as well."</p>
+
+<p>"Why do people want to tell me that I am beautiful? Do they not suppose
+I can see it?" Jeanne flung out, impatiently.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Because it is a sweet thing to say what the speaker feels. And beauty
+and goodness should go hand in hand."</p>
+
+<p>"I am for myself alone;" she returned, proudly. "And if I do not suit
+other people they may take the less of me. There are many pretty girls."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Mam'selle," he exclaimed, beseechingly, "do not let us quarrel
+immediately, when I have thought of you so often and longed to see you
+so much! And now that my mother says pleasant things about you&mdash;she is
+not so opposed to learning since Tony Beeson has been teaching Marie to
+read and write and figure&mdash;and we are all such friends&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Ah, if they could remain only friends! But Jeanne mistrusted the outcome
+of it.</p>
+
+<p>"Then tell me about the great North instead of talking foolishness; the
+Straits and the wonderful land of snow beyond, and the beautiful
+islands! I like to hear of countries. And, Pierre, far to the south
+flowers bloom and fruit ripens all the year round, luscious things that
+we know nothing about."</p>
+
+<p>Pierre's descriptive faculties were not of a high order. Still when he
+was once under way describing some of the skating and sledging matches
+he did very well, and in this there was no dangerous ground.</p>
+
+<p>The great bell at the Fort clanged out nine.</p>
+
+<p>"It is time to go," Jeanne exclaimed, rising. "That is the signal. And
+Pani has fallen asleep."</p>
+
+<p>Pierre rose disconcerted. The bright face was merry and friendly, that
+was all. Yesterday other girls had treated him with more real warmth and
+pleasure.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span> But there was a certain authority about her not to be
+gainsaid.</p>
+
+<p>"Good night, then," rather gruffly.</p>
+
+<p>"He loves thee, <i>ma mie</i>. Hast thou no pity on him?" said Pani, looking
+earnestly at the lovely face.</p>
+
+<p>"I do not want to be loved;" and she gave a dissentient, shivering
+motion. "It displeases me."</p>
+
+<p>"But I am old. And when I am gone&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>The pathetic voice touched the girl and she put her arms around the
+shrunken neck.</p>
+
+<p>"I shall not let you go, ever. I shall try charms and get potions from
+your nation. And then, M. St. Armand is to come. Let us go to bed. I
+want to dream about him."</p>
+
+<p>One of the pitiful mysteries never to be explained is why a man or a
+woman should go on loving hopelessly. For Pierre De Ber had loved Jeanne
+in boyhood, in spite of rebuffs; and there was a certain dogged tenacity
+in his nature that fought against denial. A narrow idea, too, that a
+girl must eventually see what was best for her, and in this he gained
+Pani's sympathy and good will for his wooing.</p>
+
+<p>He was not to be easily daunted. He had improved greatly and gained a
+certain self-reliance that at once won him respect. A fine, tall fellow,
+up in business methods, knowing much of the changes of the fur trade,
+and with shrewdness enough to take advantage where it could be found
+without absolute dishonesty, he was consulted by the more cautious
+traders on many points.</p>
+
+<p>"Thou hast a fine son," one and another would say<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span> to M. De Ber; and the
+father was mightily gratified.</p>
+
+<p>There were many pleasures for the young people. It was not all work in
+their lives. Jeanne joined the parties; she liked the canoeing on the
+river, the picnics to the small islands about, and the dances often
+given moonlight evenings on the farms. For never was there a more
+pleasure loving people with all their industry. And then, indeed, simple
+gowns were good enough for most occasions.</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne was ever on the watch not to be left alone with Pierre. Sometimes
+she half suspected Pani of being in league with the young man. So she
+took one and another of the admirers who suited her best, bestowing her
+favors very impartially, she thought, and verging on the other hand to
+the subtle dangers of coquetry. What was there in her smile that should
+seem to summon one with a spell of witchery?</p>
+
+<p>Madame De Ber was full of capricious moods as well. She loved her son,
+and was very proud of him. She selected this girl and that, but no, it
+was useless.</p>
+
+<p>"He has no eyes for anyone but Jeanne," declared Rose half angrily, sore
+at Martin's defection as well, though she was not sure she wanted him.
+"She coquets first with one, then with another, then holds her head
+stiffly above them all. And at the Whitsun dance there was a young
+lieutenant who followed her about and she made so much of him that I was
+ashamed of her for a French maid."</p>
+
+<p>Rose delivered herself with severe dignity, though she had been very
+proud to dance with the American herself.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I wish Pierre would see some charm elsewhere. He is old enough now
+to marry. And Jeanne Angelot may be only very little French, though her
+skin has bleached up clearer, and she puts on delicate airs with her
+accent. She will not make a good wife."</p>
+
+<p>"You are talking of Jeanne," and the big body nearly filled the window,
+that had no hangings in summer, and the sash was swung open for air.
+Pierre leaned his elbows on the sill, and his face flushed deeply. "You
+do not like her, I know, but she is the prettiest girl in Detroit, and
+she has a dowry as well."</p>
+
+<p>"And that has a tint of scandal about it," rejoined the mother
+scornfully.</p>
+
+<p>"But Father Rameau disproved that. And, whatever she is, even if she
+were half Indian, I love her! I have always loved her. And I shall marry
+her, even if I have to take her up north and spend my whole life there.
+I know how to make money, and we shall do well enough. And that will be
+the upshot if you and my father oppose me, though I think it is more you
+and Rose."</p>
+
+<p>"Did ever a French son talk so to his mother before? If this is northern
+manners and respect&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Madame De Ber dropped into a chair and began to cry, and then, a very
+unusual thing it must be confessed, went into hysterics.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, you have killed her!" screamed Rose.</p>
+
+<p>"She is not dead. Dead people do not make such a noise. Maman, maman,"
+the endearing term<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span> of childhood, "do not be so vexed. I will be a good
+son to you always, but I cannot make myself miserable by marrying one
+woman when I love another;" and he kissed her fondly, caressing her with
+his strong hands.</p>
+
+<p>The storm blew over presently. That evening when P&egrave;re De Ber heard the
+story he said, a little gruffly: "Let the boy alone. He is a fine son
+and smart, and I need his help. I am not as stout as I used to be. And,
+Marie, thou rememberest that thou wert my choice and not that of any
+go-between. We have been happy and had fine children because we loved
+each other. The girl is pretty and sweet."</p>
+
+<p>They came to neighborly sailing after a while. Jeanne knew nothing of
+the dispute, but one day on the river when Martin's canoe was keeping
+time with hers, and he making pretty speeches to her, she said:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"It is not fair nor right that you should pay such devotion to me,
+Martin. Rose does not like it, and it makes bad friends. And I think you
+care for her, so it is only a jealous play and keeps me uncomfortable."</p>
+
+<p>"Rose does not care for me. She is flying at higher game. And if she
+cannot succeed, I will not be whistled back like a dog whose master has
+kicked him," cried the young fellow indignantly.</p>
+
+<p>"Rose has said I coquetted with you," Jeanne exclaimed with a roseate
+flush and courageous honesty.</p>
+
+<p>"I wish it was something more. Jeanne, you are the sweetest girl in all
+Detroit."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no, Martin, nor the prettiest, nor the girl who will make the best
+wife. And I do not want any lovers, nor to be married, which, I suppose,
+is a queer thing. Sometimes I think I will stay in the house altogether,
+but it is so warm and gets dreary, and out-of-doors is so beautiful with
+sunshine and fragrant air. But if I cannot be friends with anyone&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"We will be friends, then," said Martin Lavosse.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>CHAPTER XII.</h2>
+
+<h3>PIERRE.</h3>
+
+
+<p>When Madame De Ber found that Pierre was growing moody and dispirited
+and talked of going up north again, her mother's heart relented.
+Moreover, she could not but see that Jeanne was a great favorite in
+spite of her wild forest ways and love of solitude with a book in hand.
+Her little nook had become a sort of court, so she went there no more,
+for some one was sure to track her. And the great oak was too well
+known. She would drop down the river and fasten her canoe in some
+sheltered spot, and finding a comfortable place sit and read or dream.
+The chapel parson was much interested in her and lent her some wonderful
+books,&mdash;a strange story in measured lines by one John Milton, and a
+history of France that seemed so curious to her she could hardly believe
+such people had lived, but the parson said it was all true and that
+there were histories of many other countries. But she liked this because
+Monsieur St. Armand had gone there.</p>
+
+<p>Yet better than all were the dreams of his return. She could see the
+vessel come sailing up the beautiful river and the tall, fine figure
+with the long, silken beard snowy white, and the blue eyes, the smiling
+mouth, hear the voice that had so much music in it, and feel the clasp
+of the hand soft as that of any of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span> the fine ladies. Birds sang and
+insects chirped, wild ducks and swans chattered to their neighbors, and
+great flocks made a dazzle across the blue sky. Some frogs in marshy
+places gave choruses in every key, but nothing disturbed her.</p>
+
+<p>What then?</p>
+
+<p>Something different would come to her life. An old Indian squaw had told
+her fortune a year agone. "You will have many lovers and many
+adventures," she said, "and people coming from far to claim you, but you
+will not go with them. And then another old man, like a father, will
+take you over the seas and you will see wonderful things and get a
+husband who will love you."</p>
+
+<p>What if M. St. Armand should want to take her over the sea? She did not
+belong to anybody; she knew that now, and at times it gave her a
+mortifying pain. Some of the ladies had occasionally noticed her and
+talked with her, but she had a quick consciousness that they did not
+esteem her of their kind. She liked the lovely surroundings of their
+lives, the rustle of their gowns, the glitter of the jewels some of them
+wore, their long, soft white fingers, so different from the stubby hands
+of the habitans. Hers were slim, with pink nails that looked like a bit
+of shell, but they were not white. Perhaps there was a little Indian
+blood that made her so lithe and light, able to climb trees, to swim
+like a fish, and gave her this great love for the wide out-of-doors.</p>
+
+<p>It was hot one afternoon, and she would not go out anywhere. The chamber
+window overlooked the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span> garden, where flowers and sweet herbs were
+growing, and every whiff of wind sent a shower of fragrance within. She
+had dropped her book and gone to dreaming. Pani sat stringing beads for
+some embroidery&mdash;or perhaps had fallen into a doze.</p>
+
+<p>There was a step and a cordial "<i>bon soir</i>." Jeanne roused at the voice.</p>
+
+<p>"I am glad to find you in, Pani. It is well that you have not much house
+to keep, for then you could not go out so often."</p>
+
+<p>"No. Be seated, Madame, if it please you."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. I want a little talk about the child, Pani. Monsieur De Ber has
+been in consultation with the notary, M. Loisel, and has laid before him
+a marriage proposal from Pierre. He could see no objections. I did think
+I would like a little more thrift and household knowledge in my son's
+wife, but I am convinced he will never fancy anyone else, and he will be
+well enough fixed to keep a maid, though they are wasteful trollops and
+not like your own people, Pani. And Jeanne has her dowry. Since she has
+no mother or aunt it is but right to consult you, and I know you have
+been friendly to Pierre. It will be a very good marriage for her, and I
+have come to say we are all agreed, and that the betrothal may take
+place as soon as she likes."</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne had listened with amazement and curiosity to the first part of
+the speech and the really pleasant tone of voice. Now she came forward
+and stood in the doorway, her slim figure erect, her waving hair falling
+over her beautiful shoulders, her eyes with the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span> darkness of night in
+them, but the color gone out of her cheeks with the great effort she was
+making to keep calm.</p>
+
+<p>"Madame De Ber," she began, "I could not help hearing what you said. I
+thank you for your kindly feelings toward your son's wishes, but before
+any further steps are taken I want to say that a betrothal is out of the
+question, and that there can be no plan of marriage between us."</p>
+
+<p>"Jeanne Angelot!" Madame's eyes flashed with yellow lights and her black
+brows met in a frown.</p>
+
+<p>"I am sorry that Pierre loves me. I told him long ago, before he went
+away, when we were only children, that I could not be his wife. I tried
+to evade him when he came back, and to show him how useless his hopes
+were. But he would not heed. Even if you had liked and approved me,
+Madame, I might have felt sorrier, but that would not have made me love
+him."</p>
+
+<p>"And, pray, what is the matter with Pierre? He may not be such a gallant
+dancing Jack as the young officer, or a marvelous fiddler like M.
+Loisel's nephew, who I hear has been paying court to you. Mam'selle
+Jeanne Angelot, you have made yourself the talk of the town, and you may
+be glad to have a respectable man marry you."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, if I were the talk of the town I care too much for Pierre to give
+him such a wife. I would take no man's love when I could not return it.
+And I do not love Pierre. I think love cannot be made, Madame, for if
+you try to make it, it turns to hate. I do not love anyone. I do not
+want to marry!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Thou hast not the mark of an old maid, and some day it may fare worse
+with thee!" the visitor flung out angrily.</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne's face blazed at the taunt. A childish impulse seized her to
+strike Madame in the very mouth for it. She kept silence for some
+seconds until the angry blood was a little calmer.</p>
+
+<p>"I trust the good God will keep me safe, Madame," she said tremulously,
+every pulse still athrob. "I pray to him night and morning."</p>
+
+<p>"But thou dost not go to confession or mass. Such prayers of thine own
+planning will never be heard. Thou art a wicked girl, an unbeliever. I
+would have trained thee in the safe way, and cared for thee like a
+mother. But that is at an end. Now I would not receive thee in my house,
+if my son lay dying."</p>
+
+<p>"I shall not come. Do not fear, Madame. And I am truly sorry for Pierre
+when there are so many fine girls who would be glad of a nice husband. I
+hope he will be happy and get some one you can all love."</p>
+
+<p>Madame was speechless. The soft answer had blunted her weapons. Jeanne
+turned away, glided into the chamber and the next instant had leaped out
+of the window. There was a grassy spot in the far corner of the garden,
+shaded by their neighbor's walnut tree. She flung herself down upon it,
+and buried her face in the cool grass.</p>
+
+<p>"My poor son! my poor son!" moaned Madame. "She has no heart, that
+child! She is not human.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span> Pani, it was not a child the squaw dropped in
+your arms, it was&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Hush! hush!" cried Pani, rising and looking fierce as if she might
+attack Madame. "Do not utter it. She was made a Christian child in the
+church. She is sweet and good, and if she cannot love a husband, the
+saints and the holy Mother know why, and will forgive her."</p>
+
+<p>"My poor Pierre! But she is not worth his sorrow. Only he is so
+obstinate. Last night he declared he would never take a wife while she
+was single. And to deprive him of happiness! To refuse when I had
+sacrificed my own feelings and meant to be a mother to her! No, she is
+not human. I pity you, Pani."</p>
+
+<p>Then Madame swept out of the door with majestic dignity. Pani clasped
+her arms about her knees and rocked herself to and fro, while the old
+superstitions and weird legends of her race rushed over her. The mother
+might have died, but who was the father? There was some strange blood in
+the child.</p>
+
+<p>"Heaven and the saints and the good God keep watch over her!" she prayed
+passionately. Then she ran out into the small yard.</p>
+
+<p>"Little one, little one&mdash;" her voice was tremulous with fear.</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne sprang up and clasped her arms about Pani's neck. How warm and
+soft they were. And her cheek was like a rose leaf.</p>
+
+<p>"Pani," between a cry and a laugh, "do lovers keep coming on forever?
+There was Louis Marsac and Pierre, and Martin Lavosse angry with Rose,
+and"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span>&mdash;her cheek was hot now against Pani's cool one, throbbing with
+girlish confusion.</p>
+
+<p>"Because thou art beautiful, child."</p>
+
+<p>"Then I wish I were ugly. Oh, no, I do not, either." Would M. St. Armand
+like her so well if she were ugly? "Ah, I do not wonder women become
+nuns&mdash;sometimes. And I am sincerely sorry for Pierre. I suppose the De
+Bers will never speak to me again. Pani, it is growing cooler now, let
+us go out in the woods. I feel stifled. I wish we had a wigwam up in the
+forest. Come."</p>
+
+<p>Pani put away her work.</p>
+
+<p>"Let us go the other way, the <i>chemin du ronde</i>, to the gate. Rose may
+be gossiping with some of the neighbors."</p>
+
+<p>They walked down that way. There was quite a throng at King's wharf.
+Some new boats had come in. One and another nodded to Jeanne; but just
+as she was turning a hand touched her arm, too lightly to be the jostle
+of the throng. She was in no mood for familiarities, and shook it off
+indignantly.</p>
+
+<p>"Mam'selle Jeanne Angelot," a rather rich voice said in a laughing tone.</p>
+
+<p>She guessed before she even changed the poise of her head. What cruel
+fate followed her!</p>
+
+<p>"Nay, do not look so fierce! How you have grown, yet I should have known
+you among a thousand."</p>
+
+<p>"Louis Marsac!" The name seemed wrested from her. She could feel the
+wrench in her mind.</p>
+
+<p>"Then you have not forgotten me! Mam'selle, I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span> cannot help it&mdash;" with a
+deprecation in his voice that was an apology and begged for condonation.
+"You were pretty before, but you have grown wonderfully beautiful. You
+will allow an old friend to say it."</p>
+
+<p>His eyes seemed to devour her, from her dusky head to the finger tips,
+nay, even to the slim ankles, for skirts were worn short among the
+ordinary women. Only the quality went in trailing gowns, and held them
+up carefully in the unpaved ways.</p>
+
+<p>"If you begin to compliment, I shall dismiss you from the list of my
+acquaintances. It is foolish and ill-bred. And if you go around praising
+every pretty girl in Le Detroit, you will have no time left for
+business, Monsieur."</p>
+
+<p>Her face set itself in resolute lines, her voice had a cold scornfulness
+in it.</p>
+
+<p>"Is this all the welcome you have for me? I have been in but an hour,
+and busy enough with these dolts in unloading. Then I meant to hunt you
+up instead of going to sup with Monsieur Meldrum, with whom I have much
+business, but an old friend should have the first consideration."</p>
+
+<p>"I am not sure, Monsieur, that I care for friends. I have found them
+troublesome. And you would have had your effort for nothing. Pani and I
+would not be at home."</p>
+
+<p>"You are the same briery rose, Jeanne," with an amused laugh. "So sweet
+a one does well to be set in thorns. Still, I shall claim an old
+friend's privilege. And I have no end of stirring adventures for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span> your
+ear. I have come now from Quebec, where the ladies are most gracious and
+charming."</p>
+
+<p>"Then I shall not please you, Monsieur," curtly. "Come, Pani," linking
+her arm in that of the woman, "let us get out of the crowd," and she
+nodded a careless adieu.</p>
+
+<p>They turned into a sort of lane that led below the palisades.</p>
+
+<p>"Pani," excitedly, "let us go out on the river. There will be an early
+moon, and we shall not mind so that we get in by nine. And we need not
+stop to gossip with people, canoes are not so friendly as woodland
+paths."</p>
+
+<p>Her laugh was forced and a little bitter.</p>
+
+<p>Pani had hardly recovered from her surprise. She nodded assent with a
+feeling that she had been stricken dumb. It was not altogether Louis
+Marsac's appearance, he had been expected last summer and had not come.
+She had almost forgotten about him. It was Jeanne's mood that perplexed
+her so. The two had been such friends and playmates, one might say, only
+a few years ago. He had been a slave to her pretty whims then. She had
+decorated his head with feathers and called him Chief of Detroit, or she
+had twined daisy wreaths and sweet grasses about his neck. He had bent
+down the young saplings that she might ride on them, a graceful,
+fearless child. They had run races,&mdash;she was fleet as the wind and he
+could not always catch her. He had gathered the first ripe wild
+strawberries, not bigger than the end of her little finger, but, oh, how
+luscious! She had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span> quarreled with him, too, she had struck him with a
+feathery hemlock branch, until he begged her pardon for some fancied
+fault, and nothing had suited him better than to loll under the great
+oak tree, listening to Pani's story and all the mysterious suppositions
+of her coming. Then he told wild legends of the various tribes, talked
+in a strange, guttural accent, danced a war dance, and was almost as
+much her attendant as Pani.</p>
+
+<p>But the three years had allowed him to escape from the woman's memory,
+as any event they might expect again in their lives. Hugh de Marsac had
+turned into something of an explorer, beside his profitable connection
+with the fur company. The copper mines on Lake Superior had stirred up a
+great interest, and plans were being made to work them to a better
+advantage than the Indians had ever done. Fortunes were the dream of
+mankind even then; though this was destined to end in disappointment.</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne chose her canoe and they pushed out. She was in no haste, and few
+people were going down the river, not many anywhere except on business.
+The numerous holy days of the Church, which gave to religion an hour or
+two in the morning and devoted to pleasure the rest of the day, set the
+river in a whirl of gayety. Ordinary days were for work.</p>
+
+<p>The air was soft and fragrant. Some sea gulls started from a sandy nook
+with disturbed cries, then returned as if they knew the girl. A fishhawk
+darted swiftly down, having seen his prey in the clear water and
+captured it. There were farms stretching down the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span> river now, with rough
+log huts quite distinct from the whitewashed or vine-covered cottages of
+the French. But the fields betrayed a more thrifty cultivation. There
+were young orchards nodding in the sunshine, great stretches of waving
+maize fields, and patches of different grains. Little streams danced out
+here and there and gurgled into the river, as if they were glad to be
+part of it.</p>
+
+<p>"Pani, do you suppose we could go ever so far down and build a tent or a
+hut and live there all the rest of the summer?"</p>
+
+<p>"But I thought you liked the woods!"</p>
+
+<p>"I like being far away. I am tired of Detroit."</p>
+
+<p>"Mam'selle, it would hardly be safe. There are still unfriendly Indians.
+And&mdash;the loneliness of it! For there are some evil spirits about, though
+Holy Church has banished them from the town."</p>
+
+<p>Occasionally her old beliefs and fears rushed over the Indian woman and
+shook her in a clutch of terror. She felt safest in her own little nest,
+under the shadow of the Citadel, with the high, sharp palisades about
+her, when night came on.</p>
+
+<p>"Art thou afraid of Madame De Ber?" she asked, hesitatingly. "For of a
+truth she did not want you for her son's wife."</p>
+
+<p>"I know it. Pierre made them all agree to it. I am sorry for Pierre, and
+yet he has the blindness of a mole. I am not the kind of wife he wants.
+For though there is so much kissing and caressing at first, there are
+dinners and suppers, and the man is cross sometimes because other things
+go wrong. And he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span> smells of the skins and oils and paints, and the dirt,
+too," laughing. "Faugh! I could not endure it. I would rather dwell in
+the woods all my life. Why, I should come to hate such a man! I should
+run away or kill myself. And that would be a bitter self-punishment, for
+I love so to live if I can have my own life. Pani, why do men want one
+particular woman? Susette is blithe and merry, and Angelique is pretty
+as a flower, and when she spins she makes a picture like one the
+schoolmaster told me about. Oh, yes, there are plenty of girls who would
+be proud and glad to keep Pierre's house. Why does not the good God give
+men the right sense of things?"</p>
+
+<p>Pani turned her head mournfully from side to side, and the shrunken lips
+made no reply.</p>
+
+<p>Then they glided on and on. The blue, sunlit arch overhead, the waving
+trees that sent dancing shadows like troops of elfin sprites over the
+water, the fret in one place where a rock broke the murmurous lapping,
+the swish somewhere else, where grasses and weeds and water blooms
+rooted in the sedge rocked back and forth with the slow tide&mdash;how
+peaceful it all was!</p>
+
+<p>Yet Jeanne Angelot was not at peace. Why, when the woods or the river
+always soothed her? And it was not Pierre who disturbed the current, who
+lay at the bottom like some evil spirit, reaching up long, cruel arms to
+grasp her. Last summer she had put Louis Marsac out of her life with an
+exultant thrill. He would forget all about her. He would or had married
+some one up North, and she was glad.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>He had come back. She knew now what this look in a man's eyes meant. She
+had seen it in a girl's eyes, too, but the girl had the right, and was
+offering incense to her betrothed. Oh, perhaps&mdash;perhaps some other one
+might attract him, for he was very handsome, much finer and more manly
+than when he went away.</p>
+
+<p>Why did not Pani say something about him? Why did she sit there half
+asleep?</p>
+
+<p>"Wasn't it queer, Pani, that we should go so near the wharf, when we
+were trying to run away&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>She ended with a short laugh, in which there was neither pleasure nor
+mirth.</p>
+
+<p>Pani glanced up with distressful eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Eh, child!" she cried, with a sort of anguish, "it is a pity thou wert
+made so beautiful."</p>
+
+<p>"But there are many pretty girls, and great ladies are lovely to look
+at. Why should I not have some of the charm? It gives one satisfaction."</p>
+
+<p>"There is danger for thee in it. Perhaps, after all, the Recollet house
+would be best for thee."</p>
+
+<p>"No, no;" with a passionate protest. "And, Pani, no man can make me
+marry him. I would scream and cry until the priest would feel afraid to
+say a word."</p>
+
+<p>Pani put her thin, brown hand over the plump, dimpled one; and her eyes
+were large and weird.</p>
+
+<p>"Thou art afraid of Louis Marsac," she said.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Pani, I am, I am!" The voice was tremulous, entreating. "Did you
+see something in his face, a curious resolve, and shall I call it
+admiration?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span> I hope he has a wife. Oh, I know he has not! Pani, you must
+help me, guard me."</p>
+
+<p>"There is M. Loisel, who would not have thee marry against thy will. I
+wish Father Rameau were home&mdash;he comes in the autumn."</p>
+
+<p>"I do not want to marry anyone. I am a strange girl. Marie Beeson said
+some girls were born old maids, and surely I am one. I like the older
+men who give you fatherly looks, and call you child, and do not press
+your hand so tight. Yet the young men who can talk are pleasant to meet.
+Pani, did you love your husband?"</p>
+
+<p>"Indian girls are different. My father brought a brave to the wigwam and
+we had a feast and a dance. The next morning I went away with him. He
+was not cruel, but you see squaws are beasts of burthens. I was only a
+child as you consider it. Then there came a great war between two tribes
+and the victors sold their prisoners. It is so long ago that it seems
+like a story I have heard."</p>
+
+<p>The young wives Jeanne knew were always extolling their husbands, but
+she thought in spite of their many virtues she would not care to have
+them. What made her so strange, so obstinate!</p>
+
+<p>"Pani," in a low tone scarce above the ripple of the water, "M. Marsac
+is very handsome. The Indian blood does not show much in him."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, child. He is improved. There is&mdash;what do you call it?&mdash;the grand
+air about him, like a gentleman, only he was impertinent to thee."</p>
+
+<p>"You will not be persuaded to like him? It was different with Pierre."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Jeanne made this concession with a slight hesitation.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, little one, I will never take pity on anyone again if you do not
+care for him! The Holy Mother of God hears me promise that. I was sorry
+for Pierre and he is a good lad. He has not learned to drink rum and is
+reverent to his father. It is a thousand pities that he should love you
+so."</p>
+
+<p>Pani kissed the hand she held; Jeanne suddenly felt light of heart
+again.</p>
+
+<p>Down the river they floated and up again when the silver light was
+flooding everything with a softened glory. Jeanne drew her canoe in
+gently, there was no one down this end, and they took a longer way
+around to avoid the drinking shops. The little house was quiet and dark
+with no one to waylay them.</p>
+
+<p>"You will never leave me alone, Pani," and she laid her head on the
+woman's shoulder. "Then when M. St. Armand comes next year&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>She prayed to God to keep him safely, she even uttered a little prayer
+to the Virgin. But could the Divine Mother know anything of girls'
+troubles?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>CHAPTER XIII.</h2>
+
+<h3>AN UNWELCOME LOVER.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Louis Marsac stood a little dazed as the slim, proudly carried figure
+turned away from him. He was not much used to such behavior from women.
+He was both angry and amused.</p>
+
+<p>"She was ever an uncertain little witch, but&mdash;to an old friend! I dare
+say lovers have turned her head. Perhaps I have waited too long."</p>
+
+<p>There was too much pressing business for him to speculate on a girl's
+waywardness; orders to give, and then important matters to discuss at
+the warehouse before he made himself presentable at the dinner. The
+three years had added much to Marsac's store of knowledge, as well as to
+his conscious self-importance. He had been in grand houses, a favored
+guest, in spite of the admixture of Indian blood. His father's position
+was high, and Louis held more than one fortunate chance in his hand.
+Developing the country was a new and attractive watchword. He had no
+prejudices as to who should rule, except that he understood that the
+French narrowness and bigotry had served them ill. Religion was, no
+doubt, an excellent thing; the priests helped to keep order and were in
+many respects serviceable. As for the new rulers, one need to be a
+little wary of too profound a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span> faith in them. The Indians had not been
+wholly conquered, the English dreamed of re-conquest.</p>
+
+<p>Detroit was not much changed under the new r&eacute;gime. Louis liked the great
+expanse at the North better. The town was only for business.</p>
+
+<p>He had a certain polish and graceful manner that had come from the
+French side, and an intelligence that was practical and appealed to men.
+He had the suavity and deference that pleased women, if he knew little
+about poets and writers, then coming to be the fashion. His French was
+melodious, the Indian voice scarcely perceptible.</p>
+
+<p>In these three years there had been months that he had never thought of
+Jeanne Angelot, and he might have let her slip from his memory but for a
+slender thread that interested him, and of which he at last held the
+clew. If he found her unmarried&mdash;well, a marriage with him would advance
+her interests, if not&mdash;was it worth while to take trouble that could be
+of no benefit to one's self?</p>
+
+<p>Was it an omen of success that she should cross his path almost the
+first thing, grown into a slim, handsome girl, with glorious eyes and a
+rose red mouth that he would have liked to kiss there in the public
+street? How proud and dignified she had been, how piquant and daring and
+indifferent to flattery! The saints forfend! It was not flattery at all,
+but the living truth.</p>
+
+<p>The next day he was very busy, but he stole away once to the great oak.
+Some children were playing about it, but she was not there. And there
+was a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span> dance that evening, given really for his entertainment, so he
+must participate in it.</p>
+
+<p>The second day he sauntered with an indifferent air to the well known
+spot. A few American soldiers were busy about the barracks. How odd not
+to see a bit of prancing scarlet!</p>
+
+<p>The door was closed top and bottom. The tailor's wife sat on her
+doorstep, her husband on his bench within.</p>
+
+<p>"They have gone away, M'sieu," she said. "They went early this morning."</p>
+
+<p>He nodded. Monsieur De Ber had met him most cordially and invited him to
+drop in and see Madame. They were in the lane that led to St. Anne's
+street; he need not go out of his way.</p>
+
+<p>He was welcomed with true French hospitality. Rose greeted him with a
+delighted surprise, coquettish and demure, being under her mother's
+sharp eye. Yes, here was a pretty girl!</p>
+
+<p>"My husband was telling about the wonderful copper mines," Madame began
+with great interest. "There was where the Indians brought it from, I
+suppose, but in the old years they kept very close about it. No doubt
+there are fortunes and fortunes in them;" glancing up with interest.</p>
+
+<p>"My father is getting a fortune out of them. He has a large tract of
+land thereabout. If there should be peace for years there will be great
+prosperity, and Detroit will have her share. It has not changed much
+except about the river front. Do you like the Americans for neighbors as
+well as the English?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Madame gave a little shrug. "They do not spend their money so readily,
+my husband says."</p>
+
+<p>"They have less to spend," with a short laugh. "Some of the best English
+families are gone. I met them at Quebec. Ah, Madame, there is a town for
+you!" and his eyes sparkled.</p>
+
+<p>"It is very gay, I suppose," subjoined Rose.</p>
+
+<p>"Gay and prosperous. Mam'selle, you should be taken there once to show
+them how Detroit maids bloom. There is much driving about, while here&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"The town spreads outside. There are some American farmers, but their
+methods are wild and queer."</p>
+
+<p>"You have a fine son, Madame, and a daughter married, I hear. Mam'selle,
+are many of the neighborhood girls mated?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, a dozen or so," laughed Rose. "But&mdash;let me see, the wild little
+thing, Jeanne Angelot, that used to amuse the children by her pranks,
+still roams the woods with her Pani woman."</p>
+
+<p>"Then she has not found a lover?" carelessly.</p>
+
+<p>"She plays too much with them, Monsieur. It is every little while a new
+one. She settles to nothing, and I think the schooling and the money did
+her harm. But there was no one in authority, and it is not even as if M.
+Loisel had a wife, you see;" explained Madame, with emphasis.</p>
+
+<p>"The money?" raising his brows, curiously.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, it was a little M. Bellestre left," and a fine bit of scorn crossed
+Madame's face. "There was some gossip over it. She has too much liberty,
+but<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span> there is no one to say a word, and she goes to the heretic chapel
+since Father Rameau has been up North. He comes back this autumn. Father
+Gilbert is very good, but he is more for the new people and the home for
+the sisters. There are some to come from the Ursuline convent at
+Montreal, I hear."</p>
+
+<p>Marsac was not interested in the nuns. After a modicum of judicious
+praise to Madame, he departed, promising to come in again.</p>
+
+<p>When a week had elapsed and he had not seen Jeanne he was more than
+piqued, he was angry. Then he bethought himself of the Protestant
+chapel. Pani could not bring herself to enter it, but Jeanne had found a
+pleasing and devoted American woman who came in every Sunday and they
+met at a point convenient to both. Pani walked to this trysting spot for
+her darling.</p>
+
+<p>And now she was fairly caught. Louis Marsac bowed in the politest
+fashion and wished her good day in a friendly tone, ranging himself
+beside her. Jeanne's color came and went, and she put her hands in a
+clasp instead of letting them hang down at her side as they had a moment
+before. Her answers were brief, a simple "yes" or "no," or "I do not
+know, Monsieur."</p>
+
+<p>And Pani was not there! Jeanne bade her friend a gentle good day and
+then holding her head very straight walked on.</p>
+
+<p>"Mam'selle," he began in his softest voice, though his heart was raging,
+"are we no longer friends, when we used to have such merry times under
+the old oak?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span> I have remembered you; I have said times without number,
+'When I go back to La Belle Detroit, my first duty will be to hunt up
+little Jeanne Angelot. If she is married I shall return with a heavy
+heart.' But she is not&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Monsieur, if thy light-heartedness depends on that alone, thou mayst go
+back cheerily enough," she replied formally. "I think I am one of St.
+Catharine's maids and in the other world will spend my time combing her
+hair. Thou mayst come and go many times, perhaps, and find me Jeanne
+Angelot still."</p>
+
+<p>"Have you forsworn marriage? For a handsome girl hardly misses a lover."</p>
+
+<p>He was trying to keep his temper in the face of such a plain denial.</p>
+
+<p>"I am not for marriage," she returned briefly.</p>
+
+<p>"You are young to be so resolute."</p>
+
+<p>"Let us not discuss the matter;" and now her tone was haughty,
+forbidding.</p>
+
+<p>"A father would have authority to change your mind, or a guardian."</p>
+
+<p>"But I have no father, you know."</p>
+
+<p>He nodded doubtfully. She felt rather than saw the incredulous half
+smile. Had he some plot in hand? Why should she distrust him so?</p>
+
+<p>"Jeanne, we were such friends in that old time. I have carried you in my
+arms when you were a light, soft burthen. I have held you up to catch
+some branch where you could swing like a cat. I have hunted the woods
+with you for flowers and berries<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span> and nuts, and been obedient to your
+pretty whims because I loved you. I love you still. I want you for my
+wife. Jeanne, you shall have silks and laces, and golden gauds and
+servants to wait on you&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I told you, Monsieur, I was not for marriage," she interrupted in the
+coldest of tones.</p>
+
+<p>"Every woman is, if you woo her long enough and strong enough."</p>
+
+<p>He tried very earnestly to keep the sneer out of his voice, but hardly
+succeeded. His face flushed, his eyes shone with a fierce light. Have
+this girl he would. She should see who was master.</p>
+
+<p>"Monsieur, that is ungentlemanly."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Monsieur!</i> In the old time, it was Louis."</p>
+
+<p>"We have outgrown the old times," carelessly.</p>
+
+<p>"I have not. Nor my love."</p>
+
+<p>"Then I am sorry for you. But it cannot change my mind."</p>
+
+<p>The way was very narrow now. She made a quick motion and passed him. But
+she might better have sent him on ahead, instead of giving him this
+study of her pliant grace. The exquisite curves of her figure in its
+thin, close gown, the fair neck gleaming through the soft curls, the
+beautiful shoulders, the slim waist with a ribbon for belt, the light,
+gliding step that scarcely moved her, held an enthralling charm. He had
+a passionate longing to clasp his arms about her. All the hot blood
+within him was roused, and he was not used to being denied.</p>
+
+<p>There was one little turn. Pani was not sitting before the door. Oh,
+where was she? A terror<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span> seized Jeanne, yet she commanded her voice and
+moved just a trifle, though she did not look at him. He saw that she had
+paled; she was afraid, and a cruel exultation filled him.</p>
+
+<p>"Monsieur, I am at home," she said. "Your escort was not needed," and
+she summoned a vague smile. "There is little harm in our streets, except
+when the traders are in, and Pani is generally my guard. Then for us the
+soldiers are within call. Good day, Monsieur Marsac."</p>
+
+<p>"Nay, my pretty one, you must be gentler and not so severe to make it a
+good day for me. And I am resolved that it shall be. See, Jeanne, I have
+always loved you, and though there have been years between I have not
+forgotten. You shall be my wife yet. I will not give you up. I shall
+stay here in Detroit until I have won you. No other demoiselle would be
+so obdurate."</p>
+
+<p>"Because I do not love you, Monsieur," and she gave the appellation its
+most formal sound. "And soon I shall begin to hate you!"</p>
+
+<p>Oh, how handsome she looked as she stood there in a kind of noble
+indignation, her heart swelling above her girdle, the child's sweetness
+still in the lines of her face and figure, as the bud when it is just
+about to burst into bloom. He longed to crush her in one eager embrace,
+and kiss the nectar of her lovely lips, even if he received a blow for
+it as before. That would pile up a double revenge.</p>
+
+<p>Pani burst from the adjoining cottage.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh," she cried, studying one and the other.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span> "<i>Ma fille</i>, the poor
+tailor, Philippe! He had a fit come on, and his poor wife screamed for
+help, so I hurried in. And now the doctor says he is dying. O Monsieur
+Marsac, would you kindly find some one in the street to run for a
+priest?"</p>
+
+<p>"I will go," with a most obliging smile and inclination of the head.</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne clasped her arms about Pani's neck, and, laying her head on the
+shrunken bosom, gave way to a flood of tears.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Ma petite</i>, has he dared&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"He loves me, Pani, with a fierce, wicked passion. I can see it in his
+eyes. Afterward, when things went wrong, he would remember and beat me.
+He kissed me once on the mouth and I struck him. He will never forget.
+But then, rather than be his wife, I would kill myself. I will not, will
+not do it."</p>
+
+<p>"No, <i>mon ange</i>, no, no. Pierre would be a hundred times better. And he
+would take thee away."</p>
+
+<p>"But I want no one. Keep me from him, Pani. Oh, if we could go away&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Dear&mdash;the good sisters would give us shelter."</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne shook her head. "If Father Rameau were but here. Father Gilbert
+is sharp and called me a heretic. Perhaps I am. I cannot count beads any
+more. And when they brought two finger bones of some one long dead to
+St. Anne's, and all knelt down and prayed to them, and Father Gilbert
+blessed them, and said a touch would cure any disease and help a dying
+soul through purgatory, I could not believe it. Why did it not cure
+little Marie Faus when her hip<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span> was broken, and the great running sore
+never stopped and she died? And he said it was a judgment against
+Marie's mother because she would not live with her drunken brute of a
+husband. No, I do not think P&egrave;re Gilbert would take me in unless I
+recanted."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, come, come," cried Pani. "Poor Margot is most crazed. And I cannot
+leave you here alone."</p>
+
+<p>They entered the adjoining cottage. There were but two rooms and
+overhead a great loft with a peaked roof where the children slept.
+Philippe lay on the floor, his face ghastly and contorted. There were
+some hemlock cushions under him, and his poor wife knelt chafing his
+hands.</p>
+
+<p>"It is of no use," said the doctor. "Did some one summon the priest?"</p>
+
+<p>"Immediately," returned Pani.</p>
+
+<p>"And there is poor Antoine on the Badeau farm, knowing nothing of this,"
+cried the weeping mother.</p>
+
+<p>The baby wailed a sorrowful cry as if in sympathy. It had been a puny
+little thing. Three other small ones stood around with frightened faces.</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne took up the baby and bore it out into the small garden, where she
+walked up and down and crooned to it so sweetly it soon fell asleep. The
+next younger child stole thither and caught her gown, keeping pace with
+tiny steps. How long the moments seemed! The hot sun beat down, but it
+was cool here under the tree. How many times in the stifling afternoons
+Philippe had brought his work out here! He had grown paler and thinner,
+but no one had seemed to think much of it. What a strange<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span> thing death
+was! What was the other world like&mdash;and purgatory? The mother of little
+Marie Faus was starving herself to pay for the salvation of her
+darling's soul.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I should not like to die!" and Jeanne shuddered.</p>
+
+<p>The priest came, but it was not Father Gilbert. The last rites were
+performed over the man who might be dead already. The baby and the
+little girl were brought in and the priest blessed them. There were
+several neighbors ready to perform the last offices, and now Jeanne took
+all the children out under the tree.</p>
+
+<p>Louis Marsac returned, presently, and offered his help in any matter,
+crowding some money into the poor, widowed hand. Jeanne he could see
+nowhere. Pani was busy.</p>
+
+<p>The next day he paid M. Loisel a visit, and stated his wishes.</p>
+
+<p>"You see, Monsieur, Jeanne Angelot is in some sort a foundling, and many
+families would not care to take her in. That I love her will be
+sufficient for my father, and her beauty and sweetness will do the rest.
+She will live like a queen and have servants to wait on her. There are
+many rich people up North, and, though the winters are long, no one
+suffers except the improvident. And I think I have loved Mam'selle from
+a little child. Then, too," with an easy smile, "there is a suspicion
+that some Indian blood runs in Mam'selle's veins. On that ground we are
+even."</p>
+
+<p>Yes, M. Loisel had heard that. Mixed marriages<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span> were not approved of by
+the better class French, but a small share of Indian blood was not
+contemned. When it came to that, Louis Marsac was not a person to be
+lightly treated. His father had much influence with the Indian tribes
+and was a rich man.</p>
+
+<p>So the notary laid the matter before Pani and his ward, when the funeral
+was over, though he would rather have pleaded for his nephew. It was a
+most excellent proffer.</p>
+
+<p>But he was not long in learning that Jeanne Angelot had not only dislike
+but a sort of fear and hatred for the young man; and that nothing was
+farther from her thoughts. Yet he wondered a little that the fortune and
+adoration did not tempt her.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, well, my child, we shall not be sorry to have you left in old
+Detroit. Some of our pretty girls have been in haste to get away to
+Quebec or to the more eastern cities. Boston, they say, is a fine place.
+And at New York they have gay doings. But we like our own town and have
+all the pleasure that is good for one. So I am glad to have thee stay."</p>
+
+<p>"If I loved him it would be different. But I think this kind of love has
+been left out of me," and she colored daintily. "All other loves and
+gratitude have been put in, and oh, M'sieu, such an adoration for the
+beautiful world God has made. Sometimes I go down on my knees in the
+forest, everything speaks to me so,&mdash;the birds and the wind among the
+trees, the mosses with dainty blooms like a pin's head, the velvet
+lichens with rings of gray and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span> brown and pink. And the little lizards
+that run about will come to my hand, and the deer never spring away,
+while the squirrels chatter and laugh and I talk back to them. Then I
+have grown so fond of books. Some of them have strange melodies in them
+that I sing to myself. Oh, no, I do not want to be a wife and have a
+house to keep, neither do I want to go away."</p>
+
+<p>"Thou art a strange child."</p>
+
+<p>M. Loisel leaned over and kissed her on the crown of her head where the
+parting shone white as the moon at its full. Lips and rosy mouths were
+left for lovers in those days.</p>
+
+<p>"And you will make him understand?"</p>
+
+<p>"I will do my best. No one can force a damsel into marriage nowadays."</p>
+
+<p>Opposition heightened Louis Marsac's desires. Then he generally had his
+way with women. He did not need to work hard to win their hearts. Even
+here in spite of Indian blood, maids smiled on the handsome, jaunty
+fellow who went arrayed in the latest fashion, and carried it off with
+the air of a prince. There was another sort of secret dimly guessed at
+that would be of immense advantage to him, but he had the wariness of
+the mother's side as well as the astuteness of the father.</p>
+
+<p>A fortnight went by with no advantage. Pani never left her charge alone.
+The rambles in the woods were given up, and the girl's heart almost died
+within her for longing. She helped poor Margot nurse her children, and
+if Marsac came on a generous errand<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span> they surrounded her and swarmed
+over her. He could have killed them with a good will. She would not go
+out on the river nor join the girls in swimming matches nor take part in
+dances. Sometimes with Pani she spent mornings in the minister's study,
+and read aloud or listened to him while his wife sat sewing.</p>
+
+<p>"You are not easily tempted," said the good wife one day. "It is no
+secret that this young trader, M. Marsac, is wild for love of you."</p>
+
+<p>"But I do not like him, how then could I give him love?" and she glanced
+out of proud, sincere eyes, while a soft color fluttered in her face.</p>
+
+<p>"No, that could not be," assentingly.</p>
+
+<p>The demon within him that Louis Marsac called love raged and rose to
+white heat. If he could even carry her off! But that would be a foolish
+thing. She might be rescued, and he would lose the good opinion of many
+who gave him a flattering sympathy now.</p>
+
+<p>So the weeks went on. The boats were loaded with provision, some of them
+started on their journey. He came one evening and found Jeanne and her
+protector sitting in their doorway. Jeanne was light-hearted. She had
+heard he was to sail to-morrow.</p>
+
+<p>"I have come to bid my old playmate and friend good-by," and there was a
+sweet pathos in his voice that woke a sort of tenderness in the girl's
+heart, for it brought back a touch of the old pleasant days before he
+had really grown to manhood, when they sat under her oak and listened to
+Pani's legendary stories.</p>
+
+<p>"I wish you <i>bon voyage</i>, Monsieur."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Say Louis just once. It will be a bit of music to which I shall sail up
+the river."</p>
+
+<p>"Monsieur Louis."</p>
+
+<p>The tone was clear and no warmth penetrated it. He could see her face
+distinctly in the moonlight and it was passive in its beauty.</p>
+
+<p>"Thou hast not forgiven me. If I knelt&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Nay!" she sprang up and stood at Pani's back. "There is nothing to
+kneel for. When you are away I shall strive to forget your insistence&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"And remember that it sprang from love," he interrupted. "Jeanne, is
+your heart of marble that nothing moves it? There are curious stories of
+women who have little human warmth in them&mdash;who are born of strange
+parents."</p>
+
+<p>"Monsieur, that is wrong. Jeanne hath ever been loving and fond from the
+time she put her little arms around my neck. She is kindly and
+tender&mdash;the poor tailor's lonely woman will tell you. And she spent
+hours with poor Madame Campeau when her own daughter left her and went
+away to a convent, comforting her and reading prayers. No, she is not
+cold hearted."</p>
+
+<p>"Then you have taken all her love," complainingly.</p>
+
+<p>"It is not that, either," returned the woman.</p>
+
+<p>"Jeanne, I shall love thee always, cruel as thou hast been. And if thou
+art so generous as to pray for others, say a little prayer that will
+help me bear my loneliness through the cold northern winter that I had
+hoped might be made warm and bright by<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span> thy presence. Have a little pity
+if thou hast no love."</p>
+
+<p>He was mournfully handsome as he stood there in the silvery light.
+Almost her heart was moved. She said a special prayer for only one
+person, but Louis Marsac might slip into the other class that was "all
+the world."</p>
+
+<p>"Monsieur, I will remember," bowing a little.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, lovely icicle, you are enough to freeze a man's soul, and yet you
+rouse it to white heat! I can make no impression I see. Adieu, adieu."</p>
+
+<p>He gave a sudden movement and would have kissed her mouth but she put
+her hand across it, and Pani, divining the endeavor, rose at the same
+instant.</p>
+
+<p>"Mam'selle Jeanne Angelot, you will repent this some day!" and his tone
+was bitter with revenge.</p>
+
+<p>Then he plunged down the street with an unsteady gait and was lost in
+the darkness.</p>
+
+<p>"Pani, come in, bar the door. And the shutter must be fastened;" pulling
+the woman hastily within.</p>
+
+<p>"But the night will be hot."</p>
+
+<p>"It is cooler now. There has been a fresh breeze from the river. And&mdash;I
+am sore afraid."</p>
+
+<p>It was true that the night dews and the river gave a coolness to the
+city at night, and on the other side was the great sweep of woods and
+hills.</p>
+
+<p>Nothing came to disturb them. Jeanne was restless and had bad dreams,
+then slept soundly until after sunrise.</p>
+
+<p>"Antoine," she said to the tailor's little lad, "go down to the wharf
+and watch until the 'Flying Star'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span> sails up the river. The tide is
+early. I will reward you well."</p>
+
+<p>"O Mam'selle, I will do it for love;" and he set off on a trot.</p>
+
+<p>"There are many kinds of love," mused Jeanne. "Strange there should be a
+kind that makes one afraid."</p>
+
+<p>At ten the "Flying Star" went up the river.</p>
+
+<p>"Thou hast been a foolish girl, Jeanne Angelot!" declared one of the
+neighbors. "Think how thou mightst have gone up the river on a wedding
+journey, and a handsome young husband such as falls to the lot of few
+maids, with money in plenty and furs fit for a queen. And there is, no
+doubt, some Indian blood in thy veins! Thou hast always been wild as a
+deer and longing to live out of doors."</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne only laughed. She was so glad to feel at liberty once more. For a
+month she had virtually been a prisoner.</p>
+
+<p>Madame De Ber, though secretly glad, joined the general disapproval. She
+had half hoped he might fancy Rose, who sympathized warmly with him. She
+could have forgiven the alien blood if she had seen Rose go up the
+river, in state, to such a future.</p>
+
+<p>And though Jeanne was not so much beyond childhood, it was settled that
+she would be an old maid. She did not care.</p>
+
+<p>"Let us go out under the oak, Pani," she exclaimed. "I want to look at
+something different from the Citadel and the little old houses,
+something wide and free, where the wind can blow about, and where there<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span>
+are waves of sweetness bathing one's face like a delightful sea. And
+to-morrow we will take to the woods. Do you suppose the birds and the
+squirrels have wondered?"</p>
+
+<p>She laughed gayly and danced about joyously.</p>
+
+<p>Wenonah sat at her hut door making a cape of gull's feathers for an
+officer's wife.</p>
+
+<p>"You did not go north, little one," and she glanced up with a smile of
+approval.</p>
+
+<p>For to her Jeanne would always be the wild, eager, joyous child who had
+whistled and sung with the birds, and could never outgrow childhood. She
+looked not more than a dozen years old to-day.</p>
+
+<p>"No, no, no. Wenonah, why do you cease to care for people, when you have
+once liked them? Yet I am sorry for Louis. I wish he had loved some one
+else. I hope he will."</p>
+
+<p>"No doubt there are those up there who have shared his heart and his
+wigwam until he tired of them. And he will console himself again. You
+need not give him so much pity."</p>
+
+<p>"Wenonah!" Jeanne's face was a study in surprise.</p>
+
+<p>"I am glad, Mam'selle, that his honeyed tongue did not win you. I wanted
+to warn, but the careful Pani said there was no danger. My brave has
+told some wild stories about him when he has had too much brandy. And
+sometimes an Indian girl who is deserted takes a cruel revenge, not on
+the selfish man, but on the innocent girl who has trusted him, and is
+not to blame. He is handsome and double of tongue<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</a></span> and treacherous.
+See&mdash;he would have given me money to coax you to go out in the canoe
+with me some day to gather reeds. Then he could snatch you away. It was
+a good deal of money, too!"</p>
+
+<p>"O Wenonah!" She fell on the woman's neck and kissed the soft, brown
+cheek.</p>
+
+<p>"He knew you trusted me, that was the evil of him. And I said to Pani,
+'Do not let her go out on the river, lest the god of the Strait put
+forth his hand and pull her down to the depths and take her to his
+cave.' And Pani understood."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I trust you," said the girl proudly.</p>
+
+<p>"And I have no white blood in my veins."</p>
+
+<p>She went down to the great oak with Pani and they sat shaded from the
+afternoon sunshine with the lovely river stretching out before them. She
+did not care for the old story any more, but she leaned against Pani's
+bosom and patted her hand and said: "No matter what comes, Pani, we
+shall never part. And I will grow old with you like a good daughter and
+wait on you and care for you, and cook your meals when you are ill."</p>
+
+<p>Pani looked into the love-lit, shining eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"But I shall be so very, very old," she replied with a soft laugh.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>CHAPTER XIV.</h2>
+
+<h3>A HIDDEN FOE.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Ah, what a day it was to Jeanne Angelot! They had gone early in the
+morning and taken some food with them in a pretty basket made of birch
+bark. How good it was to be alive, to be free! The sunshine had never
+been so golden, she thought, nor danced so among the branches nor shook
+out such dainty sprites. How they skipped over the turf, now hold of
+hands, now singly, now running away and disappearing, others coming in
+their places!</p>
+
+<p>"The very woods are alive," she declared in glee.</p>
+
+<p>Alive they were with the song of birds, the chirp of insects, the
+murmuring wind. Back of her was a rivulet fretting its way over pebbles
+down a hillside, making an irregular music. She kept time to it, then
+she changed to the bird song, and the rustle among the pines.</p>
+
+<p>"It is so lovely, Pani. I seem to be drinking in a strange draught that
+goes to my very finger tips. Oh, I wonder how anyone can bear to die!"</p>
+
+<p>"When they are old it is like falling asleep. And sometimes they are so
+tired it makes them glad."</p>
+
+<p>"I should only be tired of staying in the house. But I suppose one
+cannot help death. One can refuse to go into a little cell and shut out
+the sunlight and all the beauty that God has made. It is wicked I
+think.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span> For one can pray out of doors and sing hymns. I am sure God will
+hear."</p>
+
+<p>They ate their lunch with a relish; Jeanne had found some berries and
+some ripe wild plums. There was a hollow tree full of honey, she could
+tell by the odorous, pungent smell. She would tell Wenonah and have some
+of the boys go at night and&mdash;oh, how hard to rob the poor bees, to
+murder and rob them! No, she would keep their secret.</p>
+
+<p>She laid her head down in Pani's lap and went fast asleep; and the
+Indian woman's eyes were touched with the same poppy juice. Once Pani
+started, she thought she heard a step. In an instant her eyes were bent
+inquiringly around. There was no one in sight.</p>
+
+<p>"It was the patter of squirrels," she thought.</p>
+
+<p>The movement roused Jeanne. She opened her eyes and smiled with
+infantine joy.</p>
+
+<p>"We have both been asleep," said the woman. "And now is it not time to
+go home?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, look at the long shadows. They are purple now, and soft dark green.
+The spirits of the wood have trooped home, tired of their dancing."</p>
+
+<p>She rose and gave herself a little shake.</p>
+
+<p>"Pani," she exclaimed, "I saw some beautiful flowers before noon, over
+on the other side of the stream. I think they were something strange. I
+can easily jump across. I will not be gone long, and you may stay here.
+Poor Pani! I tired you out."</p>
+
+<p>"No, Mam'selle, you were asleep first."</p>
+
+<p>"Was I? It was such a lovely sleep. Oh, you dear woods;" and she clasped
+her hands in adoration.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Long, flute-like notes quivered through the branches&mdash;birds calling to
+their mates. Pani watched the child skipping, leaping, pulling down a
+branch and letting it fly up again. Then she jumped across the brook
+with a merry shout, and a tree hid her.</p>
+
+<p>Pani studied the turf, the ants and beetles running to and fro, the
+strange creatures with heavy loads. A woodpecker ran up a tree and
+pulled out a white grub. "Tinkle, tinkle, bu-r-r-r," said the little
+stream. Was that another shout?</p>
+
+<p>Presently Pani rose and went toward the stream. "Jeanne! Jeanne!" she
+called. The forest echoes made reply. She walked up, Jeanne had gone in
+that direction. Once it seemed as if the voice answered.</p>
+
+<p>Yes, over yonder was a great thicket of bloom. Surely the child would
+not need to go any farther. Presently there was a tangle of underbrush
+and wild grapevines. Pani retraced her steps and going farther down
+crossed and came up on the other side, calling as she went. The woods
+grew more dense. There was a chill in the air as if the sun never
+penetrated it. There was no real path and she wandered on in a thrill of
+terror, still calling but not losing sight of the stream.</p>
+
+<p>And now the sun dropped down. Terrified, Pani made the best of her way
+back. What had happened? She had seen no sign of a wild animal, and
+surely the child could not be lost in that brief while!</p>
+
+<p>She must give an alarm. She ran now until she was out of breath, then
+she had to pause until she could run again. She reached the farms. They
+were<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span> mostly all long strips of land with the houses in reach of the
+stockade for safety.</p>
+
+<p>"Andre Helmuth," she cried, "I have lost the child, Jeanne. Give an
+alarm." Then she sank down half senseless.</p>
+
+<p>Dame Helmuth ran out from the fish she was cooking for supper. "What is
+it?" she cried. "And who is this?" pointing to the prostrate figure.</p>
+
+<p>"Jeanne Angelot's Pani. And Jeanne, she says, is lost. It must be in the
+woods. But she knows them so well."</p>
+
+<p>"She was ever a wild thing," declared the dame. "But a night in the
+woods alone is not such a pleasant pastime, with panthers, and bears
+have been seen. And there may be savages prowling about. Yes, Andre,
+give the alarm and I will look after the poor creature. She has always
+been faithful to the child."</p>
+
+<p>By the time the dame had restored her, the news had spread. It reached
+Wenonah presently, who hastened to the Helmuths'. Pani sat bewildered,
+and the Indian woman, by skillful questioning, finally drew the story
+from her.</p>
+
+<p>"I think it is a band of roving Indians," she said. "I am glad now that
+Paspah is at home. He is a good guide. But we must send in town and get
+a company."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, yes, that is the thing to do. A few soldiers with arms. One cannot
+tell how many of the Indians there may be. I will go at once," and Andre
+Helmuth set off on a clumsy trot.</p>
+
+<p>"And the savory fish that he is so fond of, getting<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</a></span> spoiled. But what
+is that to the child's danger? Children, come and have your suppers."</p>
+
+<p>They wanted to linger about Pani, but the throng kept increasing.
+Wenonah warded off troublesome questions and detailed the story to
+newcomers. The dame brought her a cup of tea with a little brandy in it,
+and then waited what seemed an interminable while.</p>
+
+<p>The alarm spread through the garrison, and a searching party was ordered
+out equipped with lanterns and well armed. At its head was Jeanne's
+admirer, the young lieutenant.</p>
+
+<p>Tony Helmuth had finished his supper.</p>
+
+<p>"Let me go with them," he pleaded. "I know every inch of the way. I have
+been up and down the creek a hundred times."</p>
+
+<p>Pani rose. "I must go, too," she said, weakly, but she dropped back on
+the seat.</p>
+
+<p>"Thou wilt come home with me," began Wenonah, with gentle
+persuasiveness. "Thou hast not the strength."</p>
+
+<p>She yielded passively and clung piteously to the younger woman, her feet
+lagging.</p>
+
+<p>"She was so glad and joyous all day. I should not have let her go out of
+my sight," the foster mother moaned. "And it was only such a little
+while. Heaven and the blessed Mother send her back safely."</p>
+
+<p>"I think they will find her. Paspah is good on a trail. If they stop for
+the night and build a fire that will surely betray them."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>She led Pani carefully along, though quite a procession followed.</p>
+
+<p>"Let her be quiet now," said the younger squaw. "You can hear nothing
+more from her, and she needs rest. Go your ways."</p>
+
+<p>Pani was too much exhausted and too dazed to oppose anything. Once or
+twice she started feebly and said she must go home, but dropped back
+again on the pine needle couch covered with a blanket. Between waking
+and sleep strange dreams came to her that made her start and cry out,
+and Wenonah soothed her as one would a child.</p>
+
+<p>All the next day they waited. The town was stirred with the event, and
+the sympathy was universal. The pretty Jeanne Angelot, who had been left
+so mysteriously, had awakened romantic interest anew. A few years ago
+this would have been a common incident, but why one should want to carry
+off a girl of no special value,&mdash;though a ransom would be raised readily
+enough if such a thing could save her.</p>
+
+<p>On the second day the company returned home. No trace of any marauding
+party had been found. There had been no fires kindled, no signs of any
+struggle, and no Indian trails in the circuit they had made. The party
+might have had a canoe on Little river and paddled out to Lake St.
+Clair; if so, they were beyond reach.</p>
+
+<p>The tidings utterly crushed Pani. For a fortnight she lay in Wenonah's
+cabin, paying no attention to anything and would have refused sustenance
+if Weno<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span>nah had not fed her as a child. Then one day she seemed to wake
+as out of a trance.</p>
+
+<p>"They have not found her&mdash;my little one?" she said.</p>
+
+<p>Wenonah shook her head.</p>
+
+<p>"Some evil spirit of the woods has taken her."</p>
+
+<p>"Can you listen and think, Pani?" and she chafed the cold hand she held.
+"I have had many strange thoughts and Touchas, you know, has seen
+visions. The white man has changed everything and driven away the
+children of the air who used to run to and fro in the times of our
+fathers. In her youth she called them, but the Church has it they are
+demons, and to look at the future is a wicked thing. It is said in some
+places they have put people to death for doing it."</p>
+
+<p>Pani's dark eyes gave a glance of mute inquiry.</p>
+
+<p>"But I asked Touchas. At first she said the great Manitou had taken the
+power from her. But the night the moon described the full circle and one
+could discern strange shapes in it, she came to me, and we went and sat
+under the oak tree where the child first came to thee. There was great
+disturbance in Touchas' mind, and her eyes seemed to traverse space
+beyond the stars. Presently, like one in a dream, she said:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"'The child is alive. She was taken by Indians to the <i>petite</i> lake, her
+head covered, and in strong arms. Then they journeyed by water,
+stopping, and going on until they met a big ship sailing up North. She
+is in great danger, but the stars watch over her; a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</a></span> prisoner where the
+window is barred and the door locked. There is a man between two women,
+an Indian maiden, whose heart hungers for him. She comes down to meet
+him and follows a trail and finds something that rouses her to fierce
+anger. She creeps and creeps, and finds the key and unlocks the door.
+The white maiden is afraid at first and cowers, for she reads passion in
+the other's eyes. O great Manitou, save her!' Then Touchas screamed and
+woke, shivering all over, and could see no further into the strange
+future. 'Wait until the next moon,' she keeps saying. But the child will
+be saved, she declares."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, my darling, my little one!" moaned the woman, rocking herself to
+and fro. "The saints protect thee. Oh, I should have watched thee
+better! But she felt so safe. She had been afraid, but the fear had
+departed. Oh, my little one! I shall die if I do not see thee again."</p>
+
+<p>"I feel that the great God will care for her. She has done no evil; and
+the priests declare that he will protect the good. And I thought and
+thought, until a knowledge seemed to come out of the clear sky. So I did
+not wait for the next moon. I said, 'I have little need for Paspah,
+since I earn bread for the little ones. Why should he sit in the wigwam
+all winter, now and then killing a deer or helping on the dock for a
+drink of brandy?' So I sent him North again to join the hunters and to
+find Jeanne. For I know that handsome, evil-eyed Louis Marsac is at the
+bottom of it."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Wenonah!" Pani fell on her shoulder and cried, she was so weak and
+overcome.</p>
+
+<p>"We will not speak of this. Paspah has a grudge against Marsac; he
+struck him a blow last summer. My father would have killed him for the
+blow, but the red men who hang around the towns have no spirit. They
+creep about like panthers, and only show their teeth to an enemy. The
+forest is the place for them, but this life is easier for a woman."</p>
+
+<p>Wenonah sighed. Civilization had charms for her, yet she saw that it was
+weakening her race. They were driven farther and farther back and to the
+northward. Women might accept labor, they were accustomed to it in the
+savage state but a brave could not so demean himself.</p>
+
+<p>Pani's mind was not very active yet. For some moments she studied
+Wenonah in silence.</p>
+
+<p>"She was afraid of him. She would not go out to the forest nor on the
+river while he was here. But he went away&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"He could have planned it all. He would find enough to do his bidding.
+But if she has been taken up North, Paspah will find her."</p>
+
+<p>That gave some present comfort to Pani. But she began to be restless and
+wanted to return to her own cottage.</p>
+
+<p>"You must not live alone," said Wenonah.</p>
+
+<p>"But I want to be there. If my darling comes it is there she will search
+for me."</p>
+
+<p>When Wenonah found she could no longer keep her by persuasion or
+entreaty, she went home with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[237]</a></span> her one day. The tailor's widow had taken
+some little charge of the place. It was clean and tidy.</p>
+
+<p>Pani drew a long, delighted breath, like a child.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, this is home," she exclaimed. "Wenonah, the good Mother of God
+will reward you for your kindness. There is something"&mdash;touching her
+forehead in piteous appeal&mdash;"that keeps me from thinking as I ought. But
+you are sure my little one will come back, like a bird to its nest?"</p>
+
+<p>"She will come back," replied Wenonah, hardly knowing whether she
+believed it herself or not.</p>
+
+<p>"Then I shall stay here."</p>
+
+<p>She was deaf to all entreaties. She went about talking to herself, with
+a sentence here and there addressed to Jeanne.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, leave her," said Margot. "She was good to me in my sorrow, and
+<i>petite</i> Jeanne was an angel. The children loved her so. She would not
+go away of her own accord. And I will watch and see that no harm happens
+to Pani, and that she has food. The boys will bring her fagots for fire.
+I will send you word every day, so you will know how it fares with her."</p>
+
+<p>Pani grew more cheerful day by day and gained not only physical
+strength, but made some mental improvement. In the short twilight she
+would sit in the doorway listening to every step and tone, sometimes
+rising as if she would go to meet Jeanne, then dropping back with a
+sigh.</p>
+
+<p>The soldiers were very kind to her and often stopped to give her good
+day. Neighbors, too, paused, some in sympathy, some in curiosity.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[238]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>There were many explanations of the sudden disappearance. That Jeanne
+Angelot had been carried off by Indians seemed most likely. Such things
+were still done.</p>
+
+<p>But many of the superstitious shook their heads. She had come queerly as
+if she had dropped from the clouds, she had gone in the same manner.
+Perhaps she was not a human child. All wild things had come at her
+call,&mdash;she had talked to them in the woods. Once a doe had run to her
+from some hunters and she had so covered it with her girlish arms and
+figure that they had not dared to shoot. If there were bears or panthers
+or wolves in the woods, they never molested her.</p>
+
+<p>They recalled old legends, Indian and French, some gruesome enough, but
+they did not seem meet for pretty, laughing Jeanne, who was all
+kindliness and sweetness and truth. If she was part spirit, surely it
+was a good spirit and not an evil one.</p>
+
+<p>Then Pani thought she would go to Father Gilbert, though she had never
+felt at home with him as she did with good P&egrave;re Rameau. There might be
+prayers that would hasten her return. Or, if relics helped, if she could
+once hold them in her hand and wish&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>The old missionaries who had gone a century or two before to plant the
+cross along with the lilies of France had the souls of the heathen
+savages at heart. Since then times had changed and the Indians were not
+looked upon as such promising subjects. Father Gilbert worked for the
+good and the glory of the Church. One English convert was worth a dozen<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[239]</a></span>
+Indians. So the church had been improved and made more beautiful. There
+were singers who caught the ear of the casual listener, and he or she
+came again. The school, too, was improved, the sisters' house enlarged,
+and a retreat built where women could spend days of sorrow and go away
+refreshed. Sometimes they preferred to stay altogether.</p>
+
+<p>Father Gilbert listened rather impatiently to the prolix story. He might
+have heard it before, he did not remember. There were several Indian
+waifs in school.</p>
+
+<p>"And this child was baptized, you say? Why did you not bring her to
+church?" he asked sharply.</p>
+
+<p>"Good P&egrave;re, I did at first. But M. Bellestre would not have her forced.
+And then she only came sometimes. She liked the new school because they
+taught about countries and many things. She was always honest and truth
+speaking and hated cruel deeds&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"But she belonged to the Church, you see. Woman, you have done her a
+great wrong and this is sent upon you for punishment. She should have
+been trained to love her Church. Yes, you must come every day and pray
+that she may be returned to the true fold, and that the good God will
+forgive your sin. You have been very wicked and careless and I do not
+wonder God has sent this upon you. When she comes back she must be given
+to the Church."</p>
+
+<p>Pani turned away without asking about the relics. Her savage heart rose
+up in revolt. The child was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[240]</a></span> hers, the Church had not all the right. And
+Jeanne had come to believe like the chapel father, who had been very
+friendly toward her. Perhaps it was all wrong and wicked, but Jeanne was
+an angel. Ah, if she could hold her in her old arms once more!</p>
+
+<p>Father Gilbert went to see M. Loisel. What was it about the money the
+Indian woman and the child had? Could not the Church take better care of
+it? And if the girl was dead, what then?</p>
+
+<p>M. Loisel explained the wording of the bequest. If both died it went
+back to the Bellestre estate. Only in case of Jeanne's marriage did it
+take the form of a dowry. In June and December it came to him, and he
+sent back an account of the two beneficiaries.</p>
+
+<p>Really then it was not worth looking after, Father Gilbert decided, when
+there was so much other work on hand.</p>
+
+<p>Madame De Ber and her coterie, for already there were little cliques in
+Detroit, shrugged their shoulders and raised their eyebrows when Jeanne
+Angelot was mentioned.</p>
+
+<p>She was such a coquette! And though she flouted Louis Marsac to his
+face, when he had really taken her at her word and gone, she might have
+repented and run after him. It was hardly likely a band of roving
+Indians would burthen themselves with a girl. Then she was fleet of foot
+and had a quick brain, she could have eluded them and returned by this
+time.</p>
+
+<p>Rose De Ber had succeeded in captivating her fine lover and sent Martin
+about with a bit of haughtiness<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[241]</a></span> that would have become a queen. It was
+a fine wedding and Jeanne was lost sight of in the newer excitement.</p>
+
+<p>Pani rambled to and fro, a grave, silent woman. When she grew strong
+enough she went to the forest and haunted the little creek with her
+plaints. The weather grew colder. Furs and rugs were brought out, and
+warm hangings for winter. Martin Lavosse came in and arranged some
+comforts for Pani, looked to see that the shutters would swing easily
+and brought fresh cedar and pine boughs for pallets. Crops were being
+gathered in, and there were merrymakings and church festivals, but the
+poor woman sat alone in her room that fronted the street, now and then
+casting her eyes up and down in mute questioning. The light of her life
+had gone. If Jeanne came not back all would be gone, even faith in the
+good God. For why should he, if he was so great and could manage the
+whole world, let this thing happen? Why should he deliver Jeanne into
+the hands of the man she hated, or perhaps let her be torn to pieces by
+some wild beast of the forest, when, by raising a finger, he could have
+helped it? Could he be angry because she had not sent the child to be
+shut up in the Recollet house and made a nun of?</p>
+
+<p>Slavery and servitude had not extinguished the love of liberty that had
+been born in Pani's soul. She had succumbed to force, then to a certain
+fondness for a kind mistress. But it seemed as if she alone had
+understood the child's wild flights, her hatred of bondage. She had done
+no harm to any living creature;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[242]</a></span> she had been full of gratitude to the
+great Manitou for every flower, every bird, for the golden sun that set
+her pulses in a glow, for the moon and stars, and the winds that sang to
+her. Oh, surely God could not be angry with her!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[243]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>CHAPTER XV.</h2>
+
+<h3>A PRISONER.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Jeanne Angelot climbed a slight ascent where great jagged stones had
+probably been swept down in some fierce storm and found lodgment. Tufts
+of pink flowers, the like of which she had not seen before, hung over
+one ledge. They were not wild roses, yet had a spicy fragrance. Here the
+little stream formed a sort of basin, and the overflow made the cascade
+down the winding way strewn with pebbles and stones worn smooth by the
+force of the early spring floods. How wonderfully beautiful it was! To
+the north, after a space of wild land, there was a prairie stretching
+out as far as one could see, golden green in the sunlight; to the east
+the lake, that seemed to gather all sorts of changeful, magical tints on
+its bosom.</p>
+
+<p>She had never heard of the vale of Enna nor her prototype who stooped to
+pluck</p>
+
+
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="The fateful flower beside the rill">
+<tr><td align='left'>"The fateful flower beside the rill,</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">The daffodil! The daffodil!"</span></td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<div class='unindent'>as she sprang down to gather the blossoms. The stir in the woods did not
+alarm her. Her eyes were still over to the eastward drinking in that
+fine draught of celestial wine, the true nectar of life. A bird piped
+overhead. She laughed and answered him. Then a sudden darkness fell upon
+her, close, smothering.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[244]</a></span> Her cry was lost in it. She was picked up,
+slung over some one's shoulder and borne onward by a swift trot. Her
+arms were fast, she could only struggle feebly.</div>
+
+<p>When at length she was placed on her feet and the blanket partly
+unrolled, she gave a cry.</p>
+
+<p>"Hush, hush!" said a rough voice in Chippewa. "If you make a noise we
+shall kill you and throw you into the lake. Be silent and nothing shall
+harm you."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, let me go!" she pleaded. "Why do you want me?"</p>
+
+<p>The blanket was drawn over her head again. Another stalwart Indian
+seized her and ran on with such strides that it nearly jolted the breath
+out of her body, and the close smell of the blanket made her faint. When
+the second Indian released her she fell to the ground in a heap.</p>
+
+<p>"White Rose lost her breath, eh?"</p>
+
+<p>"You have covered her too close. We are to deliver her alive. The white
+brave will have us murdered if she dies."</p>
+
+<p>One of them brought some water from a stream near by, and it revived
+her.</p>
+
+<p>"Give me a drink!" she cried, piteously. Then she glanced at her
+abductors. Four fierce looking Indians, two unusually tall and powerful.
+To resist would be useless.</p>
+
+<p>"Whither are you going to take me?"</p>
+
+<p>A grunt was the only reply, and they prepared to envelop her again.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[245]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Oh, let me walk a little," she besought. "I am stiff and tired."</p>
+
+<p>"You will not give any alarm?"</p>
+
+<p>Who could hear in this wild, solitary place?</p>
+
+<p>"I will be quiet. Nay, do not put the blanket about me, it is so warm,"
+she entreated.</p>
+
+<p>One of the Indians threw it over his shoulder. Two others took an arm
+with a tight grasp and commenced a quick trot. They lifted her almost
+off her feet, and she found this more wearying than being carried.</p>
+
+<p>"Do not go so fast," she pleaded.</p>
+
+<p>The Indian caught her up and ran again. Her slim figure was as nothing
+to him. But it was better not to have her head covered.</p>
+
+<p>There seemed a narrow path through these woods, a trail the Indians
+knew. Now and then they emerged from the woods to a more open space, but
+the sunlight was mostly shut out. Once more they changed and now they
+reached a stream and put down their burthen.</p>
+
+<p>"We go now in a canoe," began the chief spokesman. "If the White Rose
+will keep quiet and orderly no harm will come to her. Otherwise her
+hands and feet must be tied."</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne drew a long breath and looked from one to the other. Their faces
+were stolid. Questioning would be useless.</p>
+
+<p>"I will be quiet," she made answer.</p>
+
+<p>They spread the blanket about and seated her in the middle. One man took
+his place behind her, one<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[246]</a></span> in front, and each had two ends of the
+blanket to frustrate any desperate move. Then another stood up to the
+paddle and steered the canoe swiftly along the stream, which was an arm
+of a greater river emptying into the lake.</p>
+
+<p>What could they want of her? Jeanne mused. Perhaps a ransom, she had
+heard such tales, though it was oftener after a battle that a prisoner
+was released by a ransom. She did not know in what direction they were
+taking her, everything was strange though she had been on many of the
+small streams about Detroit. Now the way was narrow, overhung with
+gloomy trees, here and there a white beech shining out in a ghostly
+fashion. The sun dropped down and darkness gathered, broken by the
+shrill cry of a wild cat or the prolonged howl of a wolf. Here they
+started a nest of waterfowl that made a great clatter, but they glided
+swiftly by. It grew darker and darker but they went silently with only a
+low grunt from one of the Indians now and then.</p>
+
+<p>Presently they reached the main stream. This was much larger, with the
+shores farther off and clearer, though weird enough in the darkness.
+Stars were coming out. Jeanne watched them in the deep magnificent blue,
+golden, white, greenish and with crimson tints. Was the world beyond the
+stars as beautiful as this? But she knew no one there. She wondered a
+little about her mother&mdash;was she in that bright sphere? There was
+another Mother&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"O Mother of God," she cried in her soul,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[247]</a></span> "have pity upon me! I put
+myself in thy care. Guard me from evil! Restore me to my home!"</p>
+
+<p>For it seemed, amid these rough savages, she sorely needed a mother's
+tender care. And she thought now there had been no loving woman in her
+life save Pani. Madame Bellestre had petted her, but she had lost her
+out of her life so soon. There had been the schoolmaster, that she could
+still think of with affection for all his queer fatherly interest and
+kindness; there was M. Loisel; and oh, Monsieur St. Armand, who was
+coming back in the early summer, and had some plans to lay before her.
+Even M. De Ber had been kindly and friendly, but Madame had never
+approved her. Poor Madame Campeau had come to love her, but often in her
+wandering moments she called her Berth&ecirc;.</p>
+
+<p>The quiet, the lapping of the waves, and perhaps a little fatigue
+overcame her at length. She dropped back against the Indian's knee, and
+her soft breath rose and fell peacefully. He drew the blanket up over
+her.</p>
+
+<p>"Ugh! ugh!" he ejaculated, but she heard it not. "The tide is good, we
+shall make the Point before dawn."</p>
+
+<p>The others nodded. They lighted their pipes, and presently the Indian at
+the paddle changed with one of his comrades and they stole on and on,
+both wind and tide in their favor. Several times their charge stirred
+but did not wake. Youth and health had overcome even anxiety.</p>
+
+<p>There was dawn in the eastern sky. Jeanne roused.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[248]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Oh, where am I?" she cried in piercing accents; and endeavored to
+spring up.</p>
+
+<p>"Thou art safe enough and naught has harmed thee," was the reply. "Keep
+quiet, that is all."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, where do you mean to take me? I am stiff and cold. Oh, let me
+change a little!"</p>
+
+<p>She straightened herself and pulled the blanket over her. The same
+stolid faces that had refused any satisfaction last night met her gaze
+again in blankness.</p>
+
+<p>There was a broad, open space of water, no longer the river. She glanced
+about. A sudden arrow of gold gleamed swiftly across it&mdash;then another,
+and it was a sea of flame with dancing crimson lights.</p>
+
+<p>"It is the lake," she said. "Lake Huron." She had been up the
+picturesque shores of the St. Clair river.</p>
+
+<p>The Indian nodded.</p>
+
+<p>"You are going north?" A great terror overwhelmed her like a sudden
+revelation.</p>
+
+<p>The answer was a solemn nod.</p>
+
+<p>"Some one has hired you to do this."</p>
+
+<p>Not a muscle in any stolid face moved.</p>
+
+<p>"If I guess rightly will you tell me?"</p>
+
+<p>There was a refusal in the shake of the head.</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne Angelot at that moment could have leaped from the boat. Yet she
+knew it would be of no avail. A chill went through every pulse and
+turned it to the ice of apprehension.</p>
+
+<p>The canoe made a turn and ran up an inlet. A great clump of trees hid a
+wigwam until they were in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[249]</a></span> sight of it There was a smoke issuing from
+the rude chimney, and a savory smell permeated the air. Two squaws had
+been squatted before the blaze of the stone-built fireplace. They both
+rose and came down the narrow strip of beach. They were short, the older
+one had a squat, ungainly figure of great breadth for the height, and a
+most forbidding face. The other was much younger.</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne did not understand the language, but from a few words she guessed
+it was Huron. It seemed at first as if there was fierce upbraiding from
+some cause, but it settled satisfactorily it would seem. She was helped
+out of the canoe. Oh, how good it was to stand free on the ground again!</p>
+
+<p>The Indian who appeared to be the leader of the party took her arm and
+led her up to the inclosure, the back of which seemed rocks, one piled
+upon another. The wigwam was set against them. The rude shelter outside
+was the kitchen department, evidently. A huge kettle had been lifted
+from the coals and was still steaming. A bark platter was piled high
+with deliciously browned fish, and in spite of her terror and distrust
+she felt that she was hungry.</p>
+
+<p>"If I might have some water," she asked hesitatingly,&mdash;"a drink and some
+to bathe my face and hands?"</p>
+
+<p>The drink was offered her in a gourd cup. Then the younger woman led her
+within the wigwam. There was a rough earthen bowl filled with water, a
+bit of looking-glass framed in birch bark, a bed, and some rounds of
+logs for seats. Around hung<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[250]</a></span> articles of clothing, both native made and
+bought from the traders.</p>
+
+<p>"I understand Chippewa," announced Jeanne looking inquiringly at the
+woman.</p>
+
+<p>She put her finger on her lip. Then she said, almost breathlessly, "We
+are not to talk to the French demoiselle."</p>
+
+<p>"But tell me, am I to stay here?"</p>
+
+<p>She gave a negative shake of the head.</p>
+
+<p>"Am I to go&mdash;farther north?"</p>
+
+<p>An affirmative nod this time.</p>
+
+<p>"Wanee! Wanee!" was called sharply from without.</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne sank on her knees.</p>
+
+<p>"O Holy Mother of Christ, have pity on me and save me!" she cried. For
+the vague suspicion that had haunted her since waking, crystallized into
+a certainty. Part of a rosary came to her:&mdash;</p>
+
+
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="Heart of Jesus">
+<tr><td align='left'>"Heart of Jesus, refuge of sinners;</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Heart of Jesus, fortitude of the just;</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Heart of Jesus, comfort the afflicted."</span></td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<p>Then she rose and made a brief toilet. She shook out her long hair,
+passing her damp hands over it, and it fell in curls again. She
+straightened her dress, but she still felt chill in the cool morning
+air. There was a cape of gull's feathers, hanging by the flap of the
+wigwam, and she reached it down making a sign to the woman asking
+permission.</p>
+
+<p>She nodded assentingly.</p>
+
+<p>It felt good and warm. Jeanne's breakfast was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[251]</a></span> spread on a board resting
+on two stones. The squaw had made coffee out of some parched and ground
+grains, and it had a comforting flavor. The plate of fish was set before
+her and cakes of honey bread, and her coffee poured in a gourd bowl. The
+birds were singing overhead, and she could hear the lap of the tide in
+the lake, a soft tone of monotony. The beauty of it all penetrated her
+very soul. Even the group around the great kettle, dipping in their
+wooden spoons and gravely chatting, the younger woman smiling and one
+might almost imagine teasing them, had a picturesque aspect, and
+softened the thought of what might happen to-morrow.</p>
+
+<p>They lolled on the turf and smoked pipes afterward. Jeanne paced up and
+down within sight of their glances that she knew were fixed upon her in
+spite of the half-closed lids. It was so good to be free in the fragrant
+air, to stretch her cramped limbs and feel the soft short grass under
+her feet. Dozens of wild plans flashed through her brain. But she knew
+escape was impossible, and she wondered what was to be the next move.
+Were they awaiting the trader, Louis Marsac?</p>
+
+<p>Plainly they were not. When they were rested and had eaten again and had
+drunk a thick liquid made of roots and barks and honey, they rose and
+went toward the canoe, as if discussing some matter. They parleyed with
+the elder woman, who brought out two blankets and a pine needle cushion,
+which they threw in the boat, then a bottle of water from the spring, a
+gourd cup and some provisions.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[252]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Come," the leader said, not unkindly. "Thou hast had a rest. We must be
+on our journey."</p>
+
+<p>Pleading would be in vain, she recognized that. The women could not
+befriend her even if they would. So she allowed herself to be helped
+into the canoe, and the men pushed off amid the rather vociferous jargon
+of the women. She was made much more comfortable than before, though so
+seated that either brave could reach out his long arm and snatch her
+from any untoward resolve.</p>
+
+<p>She looked down into the shining waters. Did she really care to try
+them? The hope of youth is unbounded and its trust in the future
+sublime. She did not want to die. Life was a glad, sweet thing to her,
+even if full of vague dreams, and she hoped somehow to be delivered from
+this danger, to find a friend raised up for her. Stories of miracles and
+wonderful rescues floated through her mind. Surely God would not let her
+fall a prey to this man she both feared and hated. She could feel his
+one hot, vicious kiss upon her lips even yet.</p>
+
+<p>The woods calmed and soothed her with their grays and greens, and the
+infrequent birches, tall and slim, with circles of white still about
+them. Great tree boles stood up like hosts of silent Indian warriors,
+ready to pounce down on one. They hugged the shore closely, sometimes it
+was translucent green, and one could almost catch the darting fishes
+with one's hand. Then the dense shade rendered it black, and it seemed
+bottomless.</p>
+
+<p>So gliding along, keeping well out of the reach of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[253]</a></span> other craft, the
+hours growing more tiresome to Jeanne, they passed the Point Aux Barques
+and steered across Saginaw bay. Once they had stopped for a little rest
+and a tramp along the shore. Then another evening dropped down upon
+them, another night, and Jeanne slept from a sort of exhaustion.</p>
+
+<p>The next forenoon they landed at one of the islands, where a trading
+vessel of considerable size and fair equipment lay at anchor. A man on
+deck with a glass had been sighting them. She had not noted him
+particularly, in fact she was weary and disheartened with her journey
+and her fears. But they made a sudden turn and came up to the vessel,
+poled around to the shore side, when she was suddenly lifted up by
+strong arms and caught by other arms with a motion so rapid she could
+not have struggled if she had wished. And now she was set down almost
+roughly.</p>
+
+<p>"Welcome, my fair demoiselle," said a voice whose triumph was in no
+degree disguised. "How shall I ever thank you for this journey you have
+taken to meet me? I could have made it pleasanter for you if you would
+have consented a little earlier. But a willful girl takes her own way,
+and her way is sweet to the man who loves her, no matter how briery the
+path may be."</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne Angelot was stunned. Then her worst fears were realized. She was
+in the power of Louis Marsac. Oh, why had she not thrown herself into
+the river; why had she not seized the knife with which they had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[254]</a></span> been
+cutting venison steak yester morn and ended it all? She tried to
+speak&mdash;her lips were dry, and her tongue numb as well as dumb.</p>
+
+<p>He took her arm. As if deprived of resistance she suffered herself to be
+led forward and then down a few steps. He opened a door.</p>
+
+<p>"See," he said, "I have arranged a pretty bower for you, and a servant
+to wait upon you. And now, Mam'selle Angelot, further refusal is
+useless. To-morrow or next day at the latest the priest will make us man
+and wife."</p>
+
+<p>"I will never be your wife alive," she said. Every pulse within her
+shrank from the desecration.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes, you will," and he smiled with a blandness that was maddening.
+"When we are once married I shall be very sweet and gentle. I shall wait
+with such patience that you will learn to pity me at first. My devotion
+will be so great that even a heart of marble could not resist.
+Mam'selle, the sun and the rain will wear away the stoutest rocks in
+time, and in the split crevices there grows some tiny flower. That is
+the way it is with the most resolute woman's heart. And you are not much
+more than a child. Then&mdash;you have no lover."</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne stood spellbound. Was it possible that she should ever come to
+love this man? Yet in her childhood she had been very fond of him. She
+was a great puzzle to herself at this moment. All the old charms and
+fascinations that had been part of the lore of her childhood, weird
+stories that Touchas had told, but which were forbidden by the Church,
+rushed over<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[255]</a></span> her. She was full of terror at herself as well as of Louis
+Marsac.</p>
+
+<p>He read the changes in her countenance, but he did not understand her
+shrinking from an abhorred suitor, nor the many fine and delicate lines
+of restraint that had come to hedge her about, to impress a peculiar
+responsibility of her own soul that would be degraded by the bondage.
+She had seen some of it in other girls mated to coarse natures.</p>
+
+<p>"My beautiful bird shall have everything. We will go up to the head of
+the great lake where my father has a lodge that is second only to that
+of the White Chief. I am his only son. He wishes for my marriage.
+Jeanne, he will give thee such a welcome as no woman ever had. The
+costliest furs shall be thine, jewels from abroad, servants to come at
+the bidding of thy finger&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I do not want them!" she interrupted, vehemently. "I have told you I do
+not want to be the wife of any man. Give me the freedom you have stolen
+from me. Send me back to Detroit. Oh, there must be women ready to marry
+you. Let me go."</p>
+
+<p>Her voice had a piercing sweetness. Even anger could not have made it
+harsh. She dropped on her knees; she raised her beautiful eyes in
+passionate entreaty.</p>
+
+<p>There was much of the savage Indian in him. He would enjoy her
+subjugation. It would begin gently, then he would tighten the cord until
+she had paid back to the uttermost, even to the blow she had given him.
+But he was too astute to begin here.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[256]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Thou shalt go back in state as my wife. Ere long my father will be as
+big a magnate as the White Chief. Detroit will be proud to honor us
+both, when we shall be chiefs of the great copper country. Rise, Star of
+the Morning. Then, whatever thou shalt ask as my wife shall be granted
+to thee."</p>
+
+<p>She rose only to throw herself on the pile of hemlock cushions, face
+downward to shut him out of her sight. Was he some strange, evil spirit
+in a man's shape?</p>
+
+<p>Noko, an old woman, waited on her. If she knew Chippewa or French she
+would not use them. She cooked savory messes. At night she slept on the
+mat of skins at the door; during the day she was outside mostly. The
+door was bolted and locked beside, but both bolt and lock were outside.
+The window with its small panes of greenish glass was securely fastened.</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne could tie a band about her neck and choke herself to death. It
+would be horrible to strangle, and she shuddered. She had no weapon of
+any kind. The woman watched her while she ate and took away all the
+dishes when she was through.</p>
+
+<p>The cabin was not large, but arranged with much taste. The sides were
+covered with bark and long strips of Indian embroidery, and curious
+plates or tiles of polished stone secured by the corners. On one side a
+roomy couch raised above the floor, fragrant with newly gathered balsam
+of fir and sweet grass, and covered with blankets of fine weaves, and
+skins cured to marvelous softness. Two chairs that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[257]</a></span> were also hung with
+embroidery done on silk, and a great square wooden seat covered with
+mottled fawn skin. Bunches of dried, sweet herbs were suspended in the
+corners, with curious imitation flowers made of dainty feathers, bits of
+bark, and various colored leaves.</p>
+
+<p>Sometimes she raged like a wild creature in her cage. She would not
+speak when Louis entered the room. She had a horrible fear of his
+blandishments. There were days and nights,&mdash;how many she did not know
+for there was the torture of hundreds comprised in them. Then she wept
+and prayed. There was the great Manitou Touchas and many of the Indian
+women believed in; there was the good God the schoolmaster had talked
+about, and the minister at the chapel, who had sent his Son to save all
+who called upon him, and why not be saved in this world as well as the
+next? In heaven all would be safe&mdash;yes, it was here that people needed
+to be saved from a thousand dangers. And there was the good God of the
+Church and the Holy Mother and all the blessed saints. Oh, would they
+not listen to one poor little girl? She did not want to die. All her
+visions of life and love were bounded by dear Detroit, La Belle Detroit.</p>
+
+
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="O Holy Father">
+<tr><td align='left'>"O Holy Father, hear me!</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">O Blessed Mother of God, hear me!</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">O Precious Son of Mary, hear me!"</span></td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<div class='unindent'>she cried on her knees, until a strange peace came to her soul. She
+believed there would be some miracle for her. There had been for
+others.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[258]</a></span></div>
+
+<p>At noon, one day, they came to a landing. There was some noise and
+confusion, much tramping and swearing. She heard Marsac at the door
+talking to Noko in French and the woman answering him. Her heart beat so
+that it well-nigh strangled her. But he did not come in. Presently the
+rumbling and unloading were over, and there was no sound but the
+oscillation of the vessel as it floundered in the tide with short beats,
+until the turning, and then the motion grew more endurable. If she could
+only see! But from her window there was nothing save an expanse of
+water, dotted with canoes and some distant islands. The cabin was always
+in semi-twilight.</p>
+
+<p>There was a fumbling at the door presently. The bolt was drawn, the lock
+snapped; and the door was opened cautiously. It was neither Noko nor
+Marsac, but some one in a soft, gray blanket, with white borders. The
+corner was thrown over her head. She turned stealthily, took out the
+key, and locked the door again on the inside. Then she faced Jeanne who
+had half risen, and her blanket fell to the floor.</p>
+
+<p>A handsome Indian girl, arrayed in a beautiful costume that bespoke rank
+in the wearer. Across her brow was a fillet made of polished stones that
+sparkled like jewels. Her long, black hair nearly reached her knees. Her
+skin was fine and clear, of a light bronze tint, through which the pink
+in her cheeks glowed. Her eyes were larger and softer than most of her
+race, of a liquid blackness, her nose was straight and slim, with fine
+nostrils, and her mouth like an opening rose, the under petal falling
+apart.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[259]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>She came close to the white girl who shrank back terrified at the eyes
+fixed so resolutely on her.</p>
+
+<p>"You are the French girl who wants to marry Louis Marsac," she hissed,
+between her white teeth.</p>
+
+<p>"I am a French girl, Jeanne Angelot, and he stole me from Detroit. I do
+not want to marry him. Oh, no! a thousand times no! I have told him that
+I shall kill myself if he forces me to marry him!"</p>
+
+<p>The Indian girl looked amazed. Her hands dropped at her side. Her eyes
+flickered in wavering lights, and her breath came in gasps.</p>
+
+<p>"You do not want to marry him?"</p>
+
+<p>Her voice was hoarse, guttural. "Ah, you lie! You make believe! It
+cannot be! Why, then, did you come up here? And why has he gone to
+L'Arbre Croche for the priest he expected?"</p>
+
+<p>"I told you. He hired some Indians to take me from Detroit, after his
+boat had left. I would not go. I did not want to marry him and said
+'<i>no</i>' dozens of times. They took me out in a canoe. I think they were
+Hurons; I did not understand their language. Somewhere&mdash;I do not know
+where we are now, and I cannot remember the days that passed, but they
+met the trader's boat and put me on it, and then I knew it was Louis
+Marsac who had stolen me. Has he gone for a priest? Is that what you
+said? Oh, save me! Help me to escape. I might throw myself into the bay,
+but I can swim. I should not like to die when life is so sweet and
+beautiful, and I am afraid I should try to save myself or some one might
+rescue<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[260]</a></span> me. Oh, believe it is no lie! I do not want to marry him."</p>
+
+<p>"You have another lover?" The eyes seemed to pierce her through, as if
+sure of an affirmative.</p>
+
+<p>"I have no lover, not even in Detroit. I do not like love. It is foolish
+and full of hot kisses, and I do not want to marry. Oh, save me if you
+have any pity! Help me to escape!"</p>
+
+<p>She slipped down at the Indian girl's feet and caught at the garment of
+feathers so smooth and soft it seemed like satin.</p>
+
+<p>"See here." The visitor put her hand in her bosom and drew forth a small
+dagger with a pearl hilt in which was set jewels. Jeanne shuddered, but
+remained on her knees, glancing up piteously.</p>
+
+<p>"See here. I came to kill you. I said no French girl, be she beautiful
+as moonlight on the lake, shall marry Louis Marsac. He belongs to me. No
+woman shall be folded in his arms or lie on his breast or rejoice in the
+kisses of his mouth and live! I cannot understand. When one has tasted
+the sweetness&mdash;and he is so handsome, not so different from his mother's
+race but that I am a fit mate for him. My father was a chief, and there
+was a quarrel between him and a relative who claimed the right, and he
+was killed. Ah, you can never know how good and tender Louis was to me,
+so different from most of the clumsy Canadian traders; next, I think, to
+the great White Chief of the island; yes, handsomer, though not as
+large. All the winter and spring he loved me. And this cabin was mine. I
+came here many times.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[261]</a></span> He loves me unless you have stolen his heart with
+some evil charm. Stand up; see. I am as tall as you. My skin is fine and
+clear, if not as pale as the white faces; and yours&mdash;pouf! you have no
+rose in your cheeks. Is not my mouth made for kisses? I like those that
+burn as fire running through your veins. And my hand&mdash;" she caught
+Jeanne's hand and compared them. "It is as slim and soft, and the pink
+is under the nails. And my hair is like a veil, reaching to my knees.
+Yes, I am a fitter mate than you, who are naught but a child, with no
+shape that fills a man with admiration. Is it that you have worked some
+evil charm?"</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne's eyes were distended with horror. Now that death and escape were
+near she shrank with the fear of all young things who have known naught
+of life but its joy. She could not even beg, her tongue seemed
+paralyzed.</p>
+
+<p>They would have made a statue worthy of a sculptor as they stood there,
+the Indian girl in her splendid attire and the utmost beauty of her
+race, with the dagger in one hand; and the girl, pale now as a snow
+wreath, at her feet.</p>
+
+<p>"Would you go away, escape?" Some curious thoughts had flashed into
+Owaissa's brain.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, help me, help me! I will beg my way back to Detroit. I will pray
+that all his love may be given to you; morning and night I will pray on
+my knees. Oh, believe, believe!"</p>
+
+<p>The Indian girl could not doubt her sincerity. But with the injustice of
+a passionate, jealous love she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[262]</a></span> did not so much blame her recreant
+lover. Some charm, some art, must have been used, perhaps by a third
+person, and the girl be guiltless. And if she could send her away and
+remain in her stead&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>She gave a soft, musical ripple of laughter. So pretty Minnehaha must
+have laughed when Longfellow caught the sound in his charmed brain. She
+put up her dagger. She raised Jeanne, wondering, but no longer afraid.
+This was the miracle she had prayed for and it had come to pass.</p>
+
+<p>"Listen. You shall go. The night comes on and it is a long sail; but you
+will not be afraid. The White Chief will take you in, but when you tell
+your story say it was Indians who stole you. For if you bring any harm
+to Louis Marsac I will follow you and kill you even if it were leagues
+beyond sunset, in the wild land that no one has penetrated. Remember.
+Promise by the great Manitou. Kiss my hand;" and she held it out.</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne obeyed. Could escape be so near? Her heart beats almost strangled
+her.</p>
+
+<p>"Wanita is my faithful slave. He will do my bidding and you need not be
+afraid. My canoe lies down below there," and she indicated the southern
+end with a motion of her head. "You will take this ring to him and he
+will know that the message comes from me. Oh, you will not hesitate?"</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne raised her head proudly. "I will obey you to the letter. But&mdash;how
+will I find him?"</p>
+
+<p>"You will go off the boat and walk down below the dock. There is a clump
+of scrub pines blown<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[263]</a></span> awry; then a little cove; the boat lies there; you
+will say 'Wanita,' twice; he will come and you will give him the ring;
+then he will believe you."</p>
+
+<p>"But how shall I get off the boat? And how did you get the key? And
+Noko&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I had a key. It was mine all the early spring. I used to come and we
+sailed around, but I would not be a wife until a French priest could
+marry us, and he said 'wait, wait,' and an Indian girl is proud to obey
+the man she loves. And when it was time for him to return I came down
+from the Strait and heard&mdash;this&mdash;that his heart had been stolen from me
+and that when Father Hugon did not come he was very angry and has gone
+up to the island. They have much illness there it seems."</p>
+
+<p>"Then I give you back all I ever had, oh, so gladly."</p>
+
+<p>"Your father, perhaps, wanted him and saw some woman who dealt in
+charms?"</p>
+
+<p>"I have no father or mother. A poor old Indian woman cares for me. She
+was my nurse, everything. Oh, her heart will be broken! And this White
+Chief will surely let me go to Detroit?"</p>
+
+<p>"He is good and gracious to all, and just. That is why you must not
+mention Marsac's name, for he might not understand about the wicked
+go-between. There are <i>shil loups</i>, spirits of wretched people who
+wander about making mischief. But I must believe thee. Thine eyes are
+truthful."</p>
+
+<p>She brushed Jeanne's hair from her forehead and looked keenly,
+questioningly into them. They met<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[264]</a></span> the glance with the shine of
+innocence and truth that never wavered in their heavenly blue.</p>
+
+<p>"The White Chief has boats that go up and down continually. You will get
+safely to Detroit."</p>
+
+<p>"And you?" inquired Jeanne.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[265]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>CHAPTER XVI.</h2>
+
+<h3>RESCUED.</h3>
+
+
+<p>"And you?" repeated Jeanne Angelot when Owaissa seemed lost in thought.</p>
+
+<p>"I shall remain here. When Louis Marsac comes I will break the fatal
+spell that bound him, and the priest will marry us. I shall make him
+very happy, for we are kindred blood; happier than any cool-blooded,
+pale-face girl could dream. And now you must set out. The sun is going
+down. You will not be faint of heart?"</p>
+
+<p>"I shall be so glad! And I shall be praying to the good Christ and his
+Mother to make you happy and give you all of Louis Marsac's heart. No, I
+shall not be afraid. And you are quite sure the White Chief will
+befriend me?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes. And his wife is of Indian blood, a great Princess from Hudson
+Bay, and the handsomest woman of the North, the kindest and most
+generous to those in sorrow or trouble. The White Queen she is called.
+Oh, yes, if I had a sister that needed protection, I should send her to
+the White Queen. Oh, do not be afraid." Then she took both of Jeanne's
+hands in hers and kissed her on the forehead. "I am glad I did not have
+to kill you," she added with the na&iuml;ve innocence of perfect truth. "I
+think you are the kind of girl out of whom they make nuns, who<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[266]</a></span> care for
+no men but the fathers, and yet they must adore some one. In thy convent
+cell pray for me that I may have brave sons."</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne made no protest against the misconstruction. Her heart was filled
+with gratitude and wonder, yet she could hardly believe.</p>
+
+<p>"You must take my blanket," and Owaissa began draping it about her.</p>
+
+<p>"But&mdash;Noko?" said the French girl.</p>
+
+<p>"Noko is soundly asleep. And the sailors are throwing dice or drinking
+rum. Their master cannot be back until dark. Go your way proudly, as if
+you had the blood of a hundred braves in your veins. They are often a
+cowardly set, challenging those who are weak and fearful. Do not mind."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, the good Father bless you forevermore." Jeanne caught the hands and
+covered them with kisses. "And you will not be afraid of&mdash;of <i>his</i>
+anger?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am not afraid. I am glad I came, though it was with such a desperate
+purpose. Here is my ring," and she slipped it on Jeanne's finger. "Give
+it to Wanita when you are landed. He is faithful to me and this is our
+seal."</p>
+
+<p>She unlocked the door. Noko was in a little heap on the mat, snoring.</p>
+
+<p>"Go straight over. Never mind the men. You will see the plank, and then
+go round the little point. Adieu. I wish thee a safe voyage home."</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne pressed the hands again. She was like one in a dream. She felt
+afraid the men would question<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[267]</a></span> her, perhaps order her back. Two of them
+were asleep. She tripped down the plank, turned the corner of the dock
+and saw the clump of trees. Still she hardly dared breathe until she had
+passed it and found the canoe beached, and a slim young Indian pacing up
+and down.</p>
+
+<p>"Wanita, Wanita!" she exclaimed, timorously.</p>
+
+<p>He studied her in surprise. Yes, that was her blanket. "Mistress&mdash;"
+going closer, and then hesitating.</p>
+
+<p>"Here is her ring, Owaissa's ring. And she bade me&mdash;she stays on the
+boat. Louis Marsac comes with a priest."</p>
+
+<p>"Then it was a lie, an awful black lie they told my mistress about his
+marrying a French girl! By all the moons in a twelvemonth she is his
+wife. And you&mdash;" studying her with severe scrutiny.</p>
+
+<p>"I am the French girl. It was a mistake. But I must get away, and she
+sends me to the White Chief. She said one could trust you to the death."</p>
+
+<p>"I would go to the death for my beautiful mistress. The White
+Chief&mdash;yes."</p>
+
+<p>Then he helped her into the canoe and made her comfortable with the
+blankets.</p>
+
+<p>"I wish it were earlier," he exclaimed. "The purple spirits of the night
+are stretching out their hands. You will not be afraid? It is a long
+pull."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no, no!" She drew a relieved breath, but every pulse had been so
+weighted with anxiety for days that she could not realize her freedom.
+Oh, how good the blessed air felt! All the wide expanse<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[268]</a></span> about her
+brought a thrill of delight, still not unmixed with fear. A boat came
+bearing down upon them and she held her breath, but the canoe moved
+aside adroitly.</p>
+
+<p>"They were drunken fellows, no doubt," said Wanita. "It is told of the
+Sieur Cadillac that he weakened the rum and would allow a man only so
+much. It is a pity there is no such strictness now. The White Chief
+tries."</p>
+
+<p>"Is he chief of the Indians?" she asked, vaguely.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no. He is in the great council of the fur traders, but he has ever
+been fair to the Indians; strict, too, and they honor him, believe in
+him, and do his bidding. That is, most of them do. He settles many
+quarrels. It is not now as it used to be. Since the coming of the white
+men tribes have been split in parts and chiefs of the same nation fight
+for power. He tries to keep peace between them and the whites. There
+would be many wars without him."</p>
+
+<p>"But he is not an Indian?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no. He came from Canada to the fur country. He had known great
+sorrow. His wife and child had been massacred by the red men. And then
+he married a beautiful Indian princess somewhere about Hudson Bay. He
+had so many men under him that they called him the White Chief, and
+partly, I think, because he was so noble and large and grand. Then he
+built his house on the island where one side is perpendicular rocks, and
+fortified it and made of it a most lovely home for his beautiful wife.
+She has everything from all countries, it is said, and the house<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[269]</a></span> is
+grand as the palaces at Montreal. They have two sons. They come over to
+Fort St. Ignace and Michilimackinac, and he has taken her to Quebec,
+where, it is said, she was entertained like a queen. He is very proud of
+her and adores her. Ah, if you could see him you would know at once that
+he was a grand man. But courageous and high spirited as he is, he is
+always counseling peace. There is much bitter feeling still between the
+French and English, and now, since the Americans have conquered, the
+English are stirring up strife with the Indians, it is said. He advises
+them to make homes and settle peaceably, and hunt at the north where
+there is still plenty of game. He has bought tracts of land for them,
+but my nation are not like the white men. They despise work." Jeanne
+knew that well.</p>
+
+<p>Then Wanita asked her about Detroit. He had been up North; his mistress
+had lived at Mackinaw and St. Ignace. All the spring she had been about
+Lake Superior, which was grand, and the big lake on the other side, Lake
+Michigan. Sometimes he had cared for M. Marsac's boat.</p>
+
+<p>"M. Marsac was your lady's lover."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Mam'selle, he was devoted before he went to Detroit. He is rich and
+handsome, you see, and there are many women smiling on him. There were
+at Mackinaw. The white ladies do not mind a little Indian blood when
+there is money. But Owaissa is for him, and she will be as grand a lady
+as the White Queen."</p>
+
+<p>Wanita wished in his secret soul Louis Marsac was as grand as the White
+Chief. But few men were.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[270]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>And now the twilight was gone and the broad sheet of water was weird,
+moving blackness. The canoe seemed so frail, that used as she was to it
+Jeanne drew in fear with every breath. If there were only a moon! It was
+cold, too. She drew the blanket closer round her.</p>
+
+<p>"Are we almost there?" she <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'inquiried'">inquired</ins>.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no, Mam'selle. Are you tired? If you could sing to pass away the
+time."</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne essayed some French songs, but her heart was not light enough.
+Then they lapsed into silence. On and on&mdash;there was no wind and they
+were out of the strongest current, so there was no danger.</p>
+
+<p>What was Owaissa doing, thinking? Had Louis Marsac returned with the
+priest? Was it true she had come to kill her, Jeanne? How strange one
+should love a man so deeply, strongly! She shuddered. She had only cared
+for quiet and pleasant wanderings and Pani. Perhaps it was all some
+horrid dream. Or was it true one could be bewitched?</p>
+
+<p>Sometimes she drowsed. She recalled the night she had slept against the
+Huron's knee. Would the hours or the journey ever come to an end? She
+said over the rosary and all the prayers she could remember,
+interspersing them with thanksgivings to the good God and to Owaissa.</p>
+
+<p>Something black and awful loomed up before her. She uttered a cry.</p>
+
+<p>"We are here. It is nothing to be afraid of. We go around to this side,
+so. There is a little basin here, and a sort of wharf. It is almost a
+fort;" and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[271]</a></span> he laughed lightly as he helped her out on to dry ground,
+stony though it was.</p>
+
+<p>"I will find the gate. The White Chief has this side well picketed, and
+there are enough within to defend it against odds, if the odds ever
+come. Now, here is the gate and I must ring. Do not be frightened, it is
+always closed at dusk."</p>
+
+<p>The clang made Jeanne jump, and cling to her guide.</p>
+
+<p>There was a step after a long while. A plate was pushed partly aside and
+a voice said through the grating:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"What is it?"</p>
+
+<p>"It is I, Wanita, Loudac. I have some one who has been in danger, a
+little maid from Detroit, stolen away by Indians. My mistress Owaissa
+begs shelter for her until she can be returned. It was late when she was
+rescued from her enemies and we stole away by night."</p>
+
+<p>"How many of you?"</p>
+
+<p>"The maid and myself, and&mdash;our canoe," with a light laugh. "The canoe is
+fastened to a stake. And I must go back, so there is but one to throw
+upon your kindness."</p>
+
+<p>"Wait," said the gate keeper. There were great bolts to be withdrawn and
+chains rattled. Presently the creaking gate opened a little way and the
+light of a lantern flared out. Jeanne was dazed for an instant.</p>
+
+<p>"I will not come in, good Loudac. It is a long way back and my mistress
+may need me. Here is the maid," and he gave Jeanne a gentle push.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[272]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"From Detroit?" The interlocutor was a stout Canadian and seemed
+gigantic to Jeanne. "And 'scaped from the Indians. Lucky they did not
+spell, it with another letter and leave no top to thy head. Wanita, lad,
+thou hadst better come in and have a sup of wine. Or remain all night."</p>
+
+<p>But Wanita refused with cordial thanks.</p>
+
+<p>"Here is the ring;" and Jeanne pressed it in his hand. "And a thousand
+thanks, tell your brave mistress."</p>
+
+<p>With a quick adieu he was gone.</p>
+
+<p>"I must find shelter for you to-night, for our lady cannot be
+disturbed," he said. "Come this way."</p>
+
+<p>The bolts and chains were put in place again. Jeanne followed her guide
+up some steps and through another gate. There was a lodge and a light
+within. A woman in a short gown of blue and a striped petticoat looked
+out of the doorway and made a sharp inquiry.</p>
+
+<p>"A maid who must tell her own story, good dame, for my wits seem
+scattered. She hath been sent by Owaissa the Indian maiden and brought
+by her servitor in a canoe. Tell thy story, child."</p>
+
+<p>"She is shivering with the cold and looks blue as a midwinter icicle.
+She must have some tea to warm her up. Stir a fire, Loudac."</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne sat trembling and the tears ran down her cheeks. In a moment
+there was a fragrant blaze of pine boughs, and a kettle swung over them.</p>
+
+<p>"A little brandy would be better," said the man.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[273]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Now that the strain was over Jeanne felt as if all her strength had
+given way. Was she really safe? The hearty French accent sounded like
+home; and the dark, round face, with the almost laughing black eyes,
+albeit there were wrinkles around them, cheered her inmost heart. The
+tea was soon made and the brandy added a piquant flavor.</p>
+
+<p>"Thou wert late starting on thy journey," said the woman, a tint of
+suspicion in her voice.</p>
+
+<p>"It was only this afternoon that the Indian maid Owaissa found me and
+heard my story. For safety she sent me away at once. Perhaps in the
+daytime I might have been pursued."</p>
+
+<p>"True, true. An Indian knows best about Indian ways. Most of them are a
+treacherous, bad lot, made much worse by drink, but there are a few. The
+maiden Owaissa comes from the Strait."</p>
+
+<p>"To meet her lover it was said. He is that handsome half or quarter
+breed, Louis Marsac, a shrewd trader for one so young, and who, with his
+father, is delving in the copper mines of Lake Superior. Yes. What went
+before, child?"</p>
+
+<p>She was glad to leave Marsac. Could she tell her story without
+incriminating him? The first part went smoothly enough. Then she
+hesitated and felt her color rising. "It was at Bois Blanc," she said.
+"They had left me alone. The beautiful Indian girl was there, and I
+begged her to save me. I told her my story and she wrapped me in her
+blanket. We were much the same size, and though I trembled so that my
+knees bent under me, I went off the boat<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[274]</a></span> without any question. Wanita
+was waiting with the canoe and brought me over."</p>
+
+<p>"Were you not afraid&mdash;and there was no moon?"</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne raised her eyes to the kindly ones.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes," she answered with a shiver. "Lake Huron is so large, only
+there are islands scattered about. But when it grew very dark I simply
+trusted Wanita."</p>
+
+<p>"And he could go in a canoe to the end of the world if it was all lakes
+and rivers," exclaimed Loudac. "These Indians&mdash;did you know their
+tribe?"</p>
+
+<p>"I think two were Hurons. They could talk bad French," and she smiled.
+"And Chippewa, that I can understand quite well."</p>
+
+<p>"Were your relatives in Detroit rich people?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no, I have none." Then Jeanne related her simple story.</p>
+
+<p>"Strange! strange!" Loudac stroked his beard and drew his bushy eyebrows
+together. "There could have been no thought of ransom. I mistrust,
+pretty maid, that it must have been some one who watched thee and wanted
+thee for his squaw. Up in the wild North there would have been little
+chance to escape. Thou hast been fortunate in finding Owaissa. Her
+lover's boat came in at Bois Blanc. I suppose she went to meet him.
+Dame, it is late, and the child looks tired as one might well be after a
+long journey. Canst thou not find her a bed?"</p>
+
+<p>The bed was soon improvised. Jeanne thanked her protectors with
+overflowing eyes and tremulous voice. For a long while she knelt in
+thanksgiving,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[275]</a></span> her simple faith discerning a real miracle in her escape.
+Surely God had sent Owaissa. She forgot the fell purpose of the Indian
+girl, and wondered at her love for Louis Marsac.</p>
+
+<p>There was much confusion and noise among the children the next morning
+while the dame was giving them their breakfast, but Jeanne slept soundly
+until they were all out at play. The sun shone as she opened her eyes,
+and one ray slanted across the window. Oh, where was she, in prison
+still? Then, by slow degrees, yesterday came back to her.</p>
+
+<p>The dame greeted her cheerily, and set before her a simple breakfast
+that tasted most delicious. Loudac had gone up to the great house.</p>
+
+<p>"For when the White Chief is away, Loudac has charge of everything. Once
+he saved the master's life, he was his servant then, and since that time
+he has been the head of all matters. The White Chief trusts him like a
+brother. But look you, both of them came from France and there is no
+mixed blood in them. Rough as Loudac seems his mother was of gentle
+birth, and he can read and write not only French but English, and is a
+judge of fine furs and understands business. He is shrewd to know people
+as well," and she gave a satisfied smile.</p>
+
+<p>"The White Chief is away&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"He has gone up to Michilimackinac, perhaps to Hudson Bay. But all goes
+on here just the same. Loudac has things well in hand."</p>
+
+<p>"I would like to return to Detroit," ventured Jeanne, timidly, glancing
+up with beseeching eyes.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[276]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"That thou shalt, <i>ma petite</i>. There will be boats going down before
+cold weather. The winter comes early here, and yet it is not so cold as
+one would think, with plenty of furs and fire."</p>
+
+<p>"And the&mdash;the queen&mdash;" hesitatingly.</p>
+
+<p>The dame laughed heartsomely.</p>
+
+<p>"Thou shalt see her. She is our delight, our dear mistress, and has many
+names given her by her loving chief. It is almost ten years ago that he
+found her up North, a queen then with a little band of braves who adored
+her. They had come from some far country. She was not of their tribe;
+she is as white almost as thou, and tall and handsome and soft of voice
+as the sweetest singing bird. Then they fell in love with each other,
+and the good p&egrave;re at Hudson Bay married them. He brought her here. <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads ' he'">She</ins>
+bought the island because it seemed fortified with the great rocks on
+two sides of it. Often they go away, for he has a fine vessel that is
+like a palace in its fittings. They have been to Montreal and out on
+that wild, strange coast full of islands. Whatever she wishes is hers."</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne sighed a little, but not from envy.</p>
+
+<p>"There are two boys, twins, and a little daughter born but two years
+ago. The boys are big and handsome, and wild as deer. But their father
+will have them run and climb and shout and play ball and shoot arrows,
+but not go out alone in a boat. Yet they can swim like fishes. Come, if
+you can eat no more breakfast, let us go out. I do not believe Detroit
+can match this, though it is larger."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[277]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>There was a roadway about the palisades with two gates near either end,
+then a curiously laid up stone wall where the natural rocks had failed.
+Here on this plateau were cottages and lodges. Canadians, some trusty
+Indians, and a sprinkling of half-breeds made a settlement, it would
+seem. There were gardens abloom, fruit trees and grapevines, making a
+pleasant odor in the early autumnal sun. There were sheep pasturing, a
+herd of tame, beautiful deer, cows in great sheds, and fowl
+domesticated, while doves went circling around overhead. Still another
+wall almost hid the home of the White Chief, the name he was best known
+by, and as one might say at that time a name to conjure with, for he was
+really the manipulator of many of the Indian tribes, and endeavored to
+keep the peace among them and deal fairly with them in the fur trading.
+To the English he had proved a trusty neighbor, to the French a true
+friend, though his advice was not always palatable.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, it is beautiful!" cried Jeanne. "Something like the farms outside
+of the palisades at home. Inside&mdash;" she made a pretty gesture of
+dissatisfaction,&mdash;"the town is crowded and dirty and full of bad smells,
+except at the end where some of the officers and the court people and
+the rich folk live. They are building some new places up by the military
+gardens and St. Anne's Church, and beside the little river, where
+everything keeps green and which is full of ducks and swans and herons.
+And the great river is such a busy place since the Americans came. But
+they have not so many soldiers in the garrison, and we miss the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[278]</a></span> glitter
+of the scarlet and the gold lace and the music they used to have. Still
+the flag is beautiful; and most people seem satisfied. I like the
+Americans," Jeanne said proudly.</p>
+
+<p>The dame shook her head, but not in disapprobation altogether.</p>
+
+<p>"The world is getting much mixed," she said. "I think the English still
+feel bitter, but the French accept. Loudac hears the White Chief talk of
+a time when all shall live together peaceably and, instead of trying to
+destroy each other and their cities and towns, they will join hands in
+business and improvement. For that is why the Indians perish and leave
+so few traces,&mdash;they are bent upon each other's destruction, so the
+villages and fields are laid waste and people die of starvation. There
+are great cities in Europe, I have heard, that have stood hundreds of
+years, and palaces and beautiful churches, and things last through many
+generations. Loudac was in a town called Paris, when he was a little
+boy, and it is like a place reared by fairy hands."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes, Madame, it is a wonderful city. I have read about it and seen
+pictures," said Jeanne, eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>"There are books and pictures up at the great house. And here comes
+Loudac."</p>
+
+<p>"Ha! my bright Morning Star, you look the better for a night's sleep. I
+have been telling Miladi about our frightened refugee, and she wishes to
+see you. Will it please you to come now?"</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne glanced from one to the other.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[279]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Oh, you need not feel afraid, you that have escaped Indians and crossed
+the lake in the night. For Miladi, although the wife of the great White
+Chief, and grand enough when necessary, is very gentle and kindly; is
+she not, dame?"</p>
+
+<p>The dame laughed. "Run along, <i>petite</i>," she said. "I must attend to the
+house."</p>
+
+<p>Inside this inclosure there was a really beautiful garden, a tiny park
+it might be justly called. Birds of many kinds flew about, others of
+strange plumage were in latticed cages. The walks were winding to make
+the place appear larger; there was a small lake with water plants and
+swans, and beds of brilliant flowers, trees that gave shade, vines that
+distributed fragrance with every passing breeze. Here in a dainty nest,
+that was indeed a vine-covered porch, sat a lady in a chair that
+suggested a throne to Jeanne, who thought she had never seen anyone so
+beautiful. She was not fair like either English or French, but the
+admixture of blood had given her a fine, creamy skin and large brownish
+eyes that had the softness of a fawn's. Every feature was clearly cut
+and perfect. Jeanne thought of a marble head that stood on the shelf of
+the minister's study at Detroit that was said to have come from a far
+country called Italy.</p>
+
+<p>As for her attire, that was flowered silk and fine lace, and some jewels
+on her arms and fingers in golden settings that glittered like the rays
+of sunrise when she moved them. There were buckles of gems on her
+slippers, and stockings of strangely netted silk where the ivory flesh
+shone through.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[280]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Jeanne dropped on her knees at the vision, and it smiled on her. No
+saint at the Recollet house was half as fair.</p>
+
+<p>"This is the little voyager cast upon our shore, Miladi," explained
+Loudac with a bow and a touch of his hand to his head. "But Wanita did
+not wreck her, only left her in our safe keeping until she can be
+returned to her friends."</p>
+
+<p>"Sit here, Mam'selle," and Miladi pointed to a cushion near her. Her
+French was musical and soft. "It is quite a story, and not such an
+unusual one either. Many maidens, I think, have been taken from home and
+friends, and have finally learned to be satisfied with a life they would
+not have chosen. You came from Detroit, Loudac says."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Miladi," Jeanne answered, timidly.</p>
+
+<p>"Do not be afraid." The lady laughed with ripples like a little stream
+dropping over pebbly ways. "There is a story that my mother shared a
+like fate, only she had to grow content with strange people and a
+strange land. How was it? I have a taste for adventures."</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne's girlish courage and spirits came back in a flash. Yet she told
+her story carefully, bridging the little space where so much was left
+out.</p>
+
+<p>"Owaissa is a courageous maiden. It is said she carries a dagger which
+she would not be afraid to use. She has some strange power over the
+Indians. Her father was wronged out of his chieftaincy and then
+murdered. She demanded the blood price, and his enemies were given up to
+the tribe that took her under<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[281]</a></span> their protection. Yet I wonder a little
+that she should choose Louis Marsac. The White Chief, my husband, does
+not think him quite true in all his dealings, especially with women. But
+if he trifled with her there would be a tragedy."</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne shuddered. The tragedy had come so near.</p>
+
+<p>Miladi asked some questions hard for Jeanne to answer with truth; how
+she had come up the lake, and if her captors had treated her well.</p>
+
+<p>"It seems quite mysterious," she said.</p>
+
+<p>Then they talked about Detroit, and Jeanne's past life, and Miladi was
+more puzzled than ever.</p>
+
+<p>A slim young Indian woman brought in the baby, a dainty girl of two
+years old, who ran swiftly to her mother and began chattering in French
+with pretty broken words, and looking shyly at the guest. Then there was
+a great shout and a rush as of a flock of birds.</p>
+
+<p>"I beat Gaston, maman, six out of ten shots."</p>
+
+<p>"But two arrows broke. They were good for nothing," interrupted the
+second boy.</p>
+
+<p>"And can't Antoine take us out fishing&mdash;" the boy stopped and came close
+to Jeanne, wonderingly.</p>
+
+<p>"This is Mademoiselle Jeanne," their mother said, "Robert and Gaston.
+Being twins there is no elder."</p>
+
+<p>They were round, rosy, sunburned boys, with laughing eyes and lithe
+figures.</p>
+
+<p>"Can you swim?" queried Robert.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes," and a bright smile crossed Jeanne's face.</p>
+
+<p>"And paddle a canoe and row?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[282]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Yes, indeed. Many a time in the Strait, with the beautiful green shores
+opposite."</p>
+
+<p>"What strait, Mackinaw?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no. It is the river Detroit, but often called a strait."</p>
+
+<p>"You can't manage a bow!" declared Robert.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. And fire a pistol. And&mdash;run."</p>
+
+<p>"And climb trees?" The dark eyes were alight with mirth.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, yes." Then Jeanne glanced deprecatingly at Miladi, so elegant, so
+refined, if the word had come to her, but it remained in the chaos of
+thought. "I was but a wild little thing in childhood, and there was no
+one except Pani&mdash;my Indian nurse."</p>
+
+<p>"Then come and run a race. The Canadians are clumsy fellows."</p>
+
+<p>Robert grasped her arm. Gaston stood tilted on one foot, as if he could
+fly.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, boys, you are too rough! Mam'selle will think you worse than wild
+Indians."</p>
+
+<p>"I should like to run with them, Miladi." Jeanne's eyes sparkled, and
+she was a child again.</p>
+
+<p>"As thou wilt." Miladi smiled and nodded. So much of the delight of her
+soul was centered in these two handsome, fearless boys beloved by their
+father. Once she remembered she had felt almost jealous.</p>
+
+<p>"I will give you some odds," cried Jeanne. "I will not start until you
+have reached the pole of the roses."</p>
+
+<p>"No! no! no!" they shouted. "Girls cannot run at the end of the race.
+There we will win," and they laughed gayly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[283]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>They were fleet as deer. Jeanne did not mean to outstrip them, but she
+was seized with enthusiasm. It was as if she had wings to her feet and
+they would not lag, even if the head desired it. She was breathless,
+with flying hair and brilliant color, as she reached the goal and turned
+to see two brave but disappointed faces.</p>
+
+<p>"I told you it was not fair," she began. "I am larger than you, taller
+and older. You should have had odds."</p>
+
+<p>"But we can always beat Berth&ecirc; Loudac, and she is almost as big as you.
+And some of the Indian boys."</p>
+
+<p>"Let us try it again. Now I will give you to the larch tree."</p>
+
+<p>They started off, looking back when they reached that point and saw her
+come flying. She was not so eager now and held back toward the last.
+Gaston came in with a shout of triumph and in two seconds Robert was at
+the goal. She laughed joyously. Their mother leaning over a railing
+laughed also and waved her handkerchief as they both glanced up.</p>
+
+<p>"How old are you?" asked Robert.</p>
+
+<p>"Almost sixteen, I believe."</p>
+
+<p>"And we are eight."</p>
+
+<p>"That is twice as old."</p>
+
+<p>"And when we are sixteen we will run twice as fast, faster than the
+Indians. We shall win the races. We are going up North then. Don't you
+want to go?"</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne shook her head.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[284]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"But then girls do not go fur hunting. Only the squaws follow, to make
+the fires and cook the meals. And you would be too pretty for a squaw.
+You must be a lady like maman, and have plenty of servants. Oh, we will
+ask father to bring you a husband as strong and nice and big as he is!
+And then he will build you a lodge here. No one can have such a splendid
+house as maman; he once said so."</p>
+
+<p>"Come down to the palisade."</p>
+
+<p>They ran down together. The inhabitants of the cottages and lodges
+looked out after them, they were so gay and full of frolic. The gate was
+open and Robert peered out. Jeanne took a step forward. She was anxious
+to see what was beyond.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't." Gaston put out his arm to bar her. "We promised never to go
+outside without permission. Only a coward or a thief tells lies and
+breaks his word. If we could find Loudac."</p>
+
+<p>Loudac had gone over to Manitou. The dame had been baking some brown
+bread with spice seeds in it, and she gave them all a great slice. How
+good it tasted! Then they were off again, and when they reached the
+house their mother had gone in, for the porch was hot from the sun.</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne had never seen anything like it. The walls seemed set with
+wonderful stones and gems, some ground to facets. Long strips of
+embroidery in brilliant colors and curious designs parted them like
+frames. Here a border of wampum shells, white, pale grayish, pink and
+purple; there great flowers made of shells gathered from the shores of
+lakes and rivers.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[285]</a></span> At the far end of the room were two Indian girls
+working on bead embroidery, another sewing rows of beautiful feathers in
+a border.</p>
+
+<p>The boys were eager to rehearse their good time.</p>
+
+<p>"If they have not tired you to death," said their mother.</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne protested that she had enjoyed it quite as much.</p>
+
+<p>"It is a luxury to have a new playfellow now that their father is away.
+They are so fond of him. Sometimes we all go."</p>
+
+<p>"When will he return, Madame?"</p>
+
+<p>"In a fortnight or so. Then he takes the long winter journey. That is a
+more dreary time, but we shut ourselves up and have blazing fires and
+work and read, and the time passes. There is the great hope at the end,"
+and she gave an exquisite smile.</p>
+
+<p>"But&mdash;Miladi&mdash;how can I get back to Detroit?"</p>
+
+<p>"Must thou go?" endearingly. "If there are no parents&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"But there is my poor Pani! And Detroit that I am so familiar with. Then
+I dare say they are all wondering."</p>
+
+<p>"Loudac will tell us when he comes back."</p>
+
+<p>Loudac had a budget of news. First there had been a marriage that very
+morning on the "Flying Star," the pretty boat of Louis Marsac, and
+Owaissa was the bride. There had been a feast given to the men, and the
+young mistress had stood before them to have her health drunk and
+receive the good wishes and a belt of wampum, with a lovely white
+doeskin<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[286]</a></span> cloak that was like velvet. Then they had set sail for Lake
+Superior.</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne was very glad of the friendly twilight. She felt her face grow
+red and cold by turns.</p>
+
+<p>"And the maiden Owaissa will be very happy," she said half in assertion,
+half inquiry.</p>
+
+<p>"He is smart and handsome, but tricky at times, and overfond of brandy.
+But if a girl gets the man she wants all is well for a time, at least."</p>
+
+<p>The next bit of news was that the "Return" would go to Detroit in four
+or five days.</p>
+
+<p>"Not direct, which will be less pleasant. For she goes first over to
+Barre, and then crosses the lake again and stops at Presque Isle. After
+that it is clear sailing. A boat of hides and freight goes down, but
+that would not be pleasant. To-morrow I will see the captain of the
+'Return.'"</p>
+
+<p>"Thou wouldst not like a winter among us here?" inquired the dame. "It
+is not so bad, and the boys at the great house are wild over thee."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I must go," Jeanne said, with breathless eagerness. "I shall
+remember all your kindness through my whole life."</p>
+
+<p>"Home is home," laughed good-humored Loudac.</p>
+
+<p>Very happy and light-hearted was Jeanne Angelot. There would be nothing
+more to fear from Louis Marsac. How had they settled it, she wondered.</p>
+
+<p>Owaissa had said that she sent the child home under proper escort. Louis
+Marsac ground his teeth, and yet&mdash;did he care so much for the girl only
+to gratify a mean revenge for one thing?&mdash;the other he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[287]</a></span> was not quite
+sure of. At all events Jeanne Angelot would always be the loser. The
+Detroit foundling,&mdash;and he gave a short laugh like the snarl of a dog.</p>
+
+<p>Delightful as everything was, Jeanne counted the days. She was up at the
+great house and read to its lovely mistress, sang and danced with baby
+Angelique, taking hold of the tiny hands and swinging round in graceful
+circles, playing games with the boys and doing feats, and trying to
+laugh off the lamentations, which sometimes came near to tears.</p>
+
+<p>"How strange," said Miladi the last evening, "that we have never heard
+your family name. Or&mdash;had you none?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes, Madame. Some one took good care of that. It was written on a
+paper pinned to me; and," laughing, "pricked into my skin so I could not
+deny it. It is Jeanne Angelot. But there are no Angelots in Detroit."</p>
+
+<p>Miladi grasped her arm so tightly that Jeanne's breath came with a
+flutter.</p>
+
+<p>"Are there none? Are you quite sure?" There was a strained sound in her
+voice wont to be so musical.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes. Father Rameau searched."</p>
+
+<p>Miladi dropped her arm.</p>
+
+<p>"It grows chilly," she said, presently. "Shall we go in, or&mdash;" Somehow
+her voice seemed changed.</p>
+
+<p>"I had better run down to the dame's. Good night, Miladi. I have been so
+happy. It is like a lovely dream of the summer under the trees. I am
+sorry I cannot be content to stay;" and she kissed the soft hand, that
+now was cold.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[288]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Miladi made no reply. Only she stood still longer in the cold, and
+murmured, "Jeanne Angelot, Jeanne Angelot." And then she recalled a
+laughing remark of Gaston's only that morning:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Jeanne has wintry blue eyes like my father's! Look, maman, the frost
+almost sparkles in them. And he says his came from the wonderful skies
+above the Arctic seas. Do you know where that is?"</p>
+
+<p>No, Jeanne did not know where that was. But there were plenty of
+blue-eyed people in Detroit.</p>
+
+<p>She ran down the steps in the light of the young crescent moon, and
+rubbed her arm a little where the fingers had almost made a dent.</p>
+
+<p>The next day the "Return" touched at the island. It was not at all out
+of her way, and the captain and Loudac were warm friends. The boys clung
+to Jeanne and would hardly let her go.</p>
+
+<p>"I wish my father could buy you for another sister," exclaimed Gaston
+hanging to her skirt. "If he were here he would not let you go, I am
+quite sure. It will take such a long while for Angelique to grow up, and
+then we shall be men."</p>
+
+<p>Did Miladi give her a rather formal farewell? It seemed as if something
+chilled Jeanne.</p>
+
+<p>Loudac and the dame were effusive enough to make amends. The "Return"
+was larger but not as jaunty as the "Flying Star," and it smelled
+strongly of salt fish. But Jeanne stepped joyously aboard&mdash;was she not
+going to La Belle Detroit? All her pulses thrilled with anticipation.
+Home! How sweet a word it was!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[289]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>CHAPTER XVII.</h2>
+
+<h3>A P&AElig;AN OF GLADNESS.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Jeanne's little cabin was very plain, but the window gave a nice lookout
+and could be opened at will. They would cross the lake and go down to
+Barre on the Canada side, and that would give a different view. Was the
+ocean so very much larger, she wondered in her inexperienced fashion.</p>
+
+<p>They passed a few boats going up. It was curiously lonely, with great
+reaches of stunted pines and scrubby hemlocks, then a space of rather
+sandy shore and wiry grasses that reared themselves stiffly. There was
+nothing to read. And now she wished for some sewing. She was glad enough
+when night came. The next morning the sky was overcast and there was a
+dull, threatening wind.</p>
+
+<p>"If we can make Barre before it storms," said Captain Mallard. "There is
+a good harbor, and a fierce east wind would drive us back to the other
+side."</p>
+
+<p>They fortunately made Barre before the storm broke in all its
+fierceness, but it was terrible! There was a roar over the lake as if a
+drove of bisons were tearing madly about. The great waves pounded and
+battered against the sides of the vessel as if they would break through,
+and the surf flew up from the point that jutted out and made the harbor.
+Gulls and bitterns went screaming, and Jeanne held her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[290]</a></span> breath in very
+terror. Earth and lake and sky were one vast picture of desolation, for
+where the eye stopped the mind went on.</p>
+
+<p>All night and all the next day the storm continued beating and bruising.
+But at evening the wind fell, and Jeanne gave thanks with a hearty and
+humble mind, and slept that night. When she woke the sun was struggling
+through a sky of gray, with some faint yellow and green tints that came
+and went as if not sure of their way. By degrees a dull red commingled
+with them and a sulky sun showed his face.</p>
+
+<p>"It is well we were in a safe port, Mam'selle, for the storm has been
+terrible," explained the worthy captain. "As it is, in the darkness we
+have lost one man overboard, and a day must be spent in repairing. The
+little town is not much, but it might be a rest to go ashore."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Jeanne, rather absently.</p>
+
+<p>"If you have a good blanket&mdash;the cold has sprung up suddenly. It is
+squaw winter, which comes sooner you know, like a woman's temper, and
+spends itself, clearing the way for smiles again."</p>
+
+<p>Dame Loudac had given her a fur cap with lappets that made a hood of it.
+She had Owaissa's blanket, and some warm leggings. The captain helped
+her ashore, but it was a most uncheerful outlook. A few streets with
+roughly built cottages, some shops at the wharf, a packing house with
+the refuse of fish about, and a wide stretch of level land on which the
+wind had swept the trees so fiercely that most of them leaned westward.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[291]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Oh, how can anyone live here!" cried Jeanne with a shiver, contrasting
+it with the beautiful island home of the White Chief.</p>
+
+<p>The inhabitants were mostly French, rugged, with dull faces and clumsy
+figures. They looked curiously at Jeanne and then went on with their
+various employments.</p>
+
+<p>But the walk freshened her and dispelled the listlessness. She gathered
+a few shells on one strip of sandy beach, and watched many curious
+creeping things. A brown lizard glided in and out of some tufts of sedge
+grass; a great flock of birds high up in the air went flying southward.
+Many gulls ran along with their shrill cries.</p>
+
+<p>Oh, if she were at home! Would she ever reach there? For now gay-hearted
+Jeanne seemed suddenly dispirited.</p>
+
+<p>All the day kept cold, though at sunset the western sky blazed out with
+glory and the wind died down. Captain Mallard would not start until
+morning, however, and though the air had a keenness in it the sun gave
+out a promising warmth.</p>
+
+<p>Then they made Presque Isle, where there was much unloading, and some
+stores to be taken on board. After that it grew warmer and Jeanne
+enjoyed being on deck, and the memory of how she had come up the lake
+was like a vague dream. They sailed past beautiful shores, islands where
+vegetation was turning brown and yellow; here marshes still a vivid
+green, there great clumps of trees with scarlet branches dancing in the
+sun, the hickories beginning to shrivel<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[292]</a></span> and turn yellow, the evergreens
+black in the shady places. At night the stars came out and the moon
+swelled in her slender body, her horns losing their distinct outlines.</p>
+
+<p>But Jeanne had no patience even with the mysterious, beautiful night.
+The autumn was dying slowly, and she wondered who brought wood for Pani;
+if she sat by the lonely fire! It seemed months since she had been taken
+away.</p>
+
+<p>Yes, here was the familiar lake, the shores she knew so well. She could
+have danced for very gladness, though her eyes were tear-wet. And here
+it narrowed into the river, and oh, was there ever such a blessed sight!
+Every familiar point looked beautiful to her. There were some boats
+hurrying out, the captains hoping to make a return trip. But the
+crowded, businesslike aspect of summer was over.</p>
+
+<p>They pushed along to the King's wharf. It seemed to her all were strange
+faces. Was it really Detroit? St. Anne's bell came rolling down its
+sweet sound. The ship crunched, righted itself, crunched again, the rope
+was thrown out and made fast.</p>
+
+<p>"Mam'selle," said the captain, "we are in."</p>
+
+<p>She took his hand, the mute gratitude in her eyes, in her whole face;
+its sweetness touched him.</p>
+
+<p>"I hope you will find your friends well."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, thank you!" she cried, with a long drawn breath. "Yes, that is my
+prayer."</p>
+
+<p>He was handing her off. The crowd, not very large, indeed, was all a
+blur before her eyes. She touched the ground, then she dropped on her
+knees.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[293]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"No, no," to some one who would have raised her. "I must say a prayer,
+for I have come back to my own loved Detroit, my home. Oh, let me give
+thanks."</p>
+
+<p>"The saints be praised! It is Jeanne Angelot."</p>
+
+<p>She rose as suddenly as she had knelt. Up the narrow street she ran,
+while the astonished throng looked after her.</p>
+
+<p>"Holy Mother defend us!" and a man crossed himself devoutly. "It is no
+living being, it is a ghost."</p>
+
+<p>For she had disappeared. The wondering eyes glanced on vacancy,
+stupefied.</p>
+
+<p>"I said she was dead from the first. She would never have gone off and
+left the poor Pani woman to die of grief. She sits there alone day after
+day, and now she will not eat, though Dame Margot and the Indian woman
+Wenonah try to comfort her. And this is Jeanne's spirit come for her.
+You will find her dead body in the cottage. Ah, I have seen the sign."</p>
+
+<p>"It was a strange disappearance!"</p>
+
+<p>"The captain can tell," said another, "for if she was rescued from the
+Indians he must have brought her down."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, yes," and they rushed in search of the captain, wild with
+superstition and excitement.</p>
+
+<p>It was really Jeanne Angelot. She had been rescued and left at Bois
+Blanc, and then taken over to another island. A pretty, sweet young girl
+and no ghost, Jeanne Angelot by name.</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne sped on like a sprite, drawing her cap over her face. Ah, the
+familiar ways and sights, the stores<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[294]</a></span> here, the booths shut, for the
+outdoors trade was mostly over, the mingled French and English, the
+patois, the shouts to the horses and dogs and to the pedestrians to get
+out of the way. She glanced up St. Anne's street, she passed the
+barrack, where some soldiers sat in the sunshine cleaning up their
+accouterments. Children were playing games, as the space was wider here.
+The door of the cottage was closed. There was a litter on the steps,
+dead leaves blown into the corners and crushed.</p>
+
+<p>"O Pani! Pani!" she cried, and her heart stood still, her limbs
+trembled.</p>
+
+<p>The door was not locked. The shutter had been closed and the room was
+dark, coming out of the sunshine. There was not even a blaze on the
+hearth. A heap of something at the side&mdash;her sight grew clearer, a
+blanketed bundle, oh, yes&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Pani! Pani!" she cried again, all the love and longing of months in her
+voice&mdash;"Pani, it is I, Jeanne come back to you. Oh, surely God would not
+let you die now!"</p>
+
+<p>She was tearing away the wrappings. She found the face and kissed it
+with a passion of tenderness. It was cold, but not with the awful
+coldness of death. The lips murmured something. The hands took hold of
+her feebly.</p>
+
+<p>"It is Jeanne," she cried again, "your own Jeanne, who loves you with
+all her heart and soul, Jeanne, whom the good God has sent back to you,"
+and then the tears and kisses mingled in a rain on the poor old wrinkled
+face.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[295]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Jeanne," Pani said in a quavering voice, in which there was no
+realizing joy. Her lifeless fingers touched the warm, young face, wet
+with tears. "<i>Petite</i> Jeanne!"</p>
+
+<p>"Your own Jeanne come back to you. Oh, Pani, you are cold and there is
+no fire. And all this dreary time&mdash;but the good God has sent me back,
+and I shall stay always, always&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>She ran and opened the shutter. The traces of Pani's careful
+housekeeping were gone. Dust was everywhere, and even food was standing
+about as Wenonah had brought it in last night, while piles of furs and
+blankets were lying in a corner, waiting to be put up.</p>
+
+<p>"Now we must have a fire," she began, cheerily; and, shivering with the
+chill herself, she stirred the embers and ashes about. There was no lack
+of fuel. In a moment the flames began a heartsome sound, and the scarlet
+rays went climbing and racing over the twigs. There was a fragrant
+warmth, a brightness, but it showed the wan, brown face, almost ashen
+color from paleness, and the lack-luster eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Pani!" Jeanne knelt before her and shook back the curls, smiled when
+she would fain have cried over the pitiful wreck, and at that moment she
+hated Louis Marsac more bitterly than ever. "Pani, dear, wake up. You
+have been asleep and dreamed bad dreams. Wake up, dear, my only love."</p>
+
+<p>Some consciousness stirred vaguely. It was as if she made a great
+effort, and the pale lips moved, but<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[296]</a></span> no sound came from them. Still the
+eyes lost some of their vacancy, the brow showed lines of thought.</p>
+
+<p>"Jeanne," she murmured again. "<i>Petite</i> Jeanne. Did some one take you
+away? Or was it a dream?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am here, your own Jeanne. Look at the fire blaze. Now you will be
+warm, and remember, and we will both give thanks. Nothing shall ever
+part us again."</p>
+
+<p>Pani made an attempt to rise but fell back limply. Some one opened the
+door&mdash;it was Margot, who uttered a cry of affright and stood as if she
+was looking at a ghost, her eyes full of terror.</p>
+
+<p>"I have come back," began Jeanne in a cheerful tone. "Some Indians
+carried me away. I have been almost up to the Straits, and a good
+captain brought me home. Has she been ill?" motioning to Pani.</p>
+
+<p>"Only grief, Mam'selle. All the time she said you would return until a
+week or so ago, then she seemed to give up everything. I was very busy
+this morning, there are so many mouths to feed. I was finishing some
+work promised, there are good people willing to employ me. And then I
+came in to see&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Jeanne has come home," Pani exclaimed suddenly. "Margot has been so
+good. I am old and of no use any more. I have been only a trouble."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, yes, I want you. Oh, Pani, if I had come home and found you dead
+there would have been no one&mdash;and now you will get well again."</p>
+
+<p>Pani shook her head, but Jeanne could discern the awakening
+intelligence.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[297]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Mam'selle!" Margot seemed but half convinced. Then she glanced about
+the room. "M. Garis was in such haste for his boy's clothes that I have
+done nothing but sew and sew. Marie has gone out to service and there
+are only the little ones. My own house has been neglected."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. Heaven will reward you for your goodness to her all this dreadful
+time, when you have had to work hard for your own."</p>
+
+<p>Margot began to pick up articles and straighten the room, to gather the
+few unwashed dishes.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Mam'selle, it made a great stir. The neighbors and the guards went
+out and searched. Some wild beast might have devoured you, but they
+found no trace. And they thought of Indians. Poor Pani! But all will be
+well now. Nay, Mam'selle," as Jeanne would have stopped her, "there will
+be people in, for strange news travels fast."</p>
+
+<p>That was very likely. In a brief while they had the room tidy. Then
+Jeanne fixed a seat at the other side of the fireplace, spread the fur
+rug over it, and led the unresisting Pani thither, wrapped her in a
+fresh blanket, and took off the cap, smoothing out the neglected hair
+that seemed strangely white about the pale, brown face. The high cheek
+bones left great hollows underneath, but in spite of the furrows of age
+the skin was soft.</p>
+
+<p>The woman gave a low, pleased laugh, and nodded.</p>
+
+<p>"Father Rameau will come," she said.</p>
+
+<p>"Father Rameau! Has he returned?" inquired the girl.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[298]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes, Mam'selle, and so glad to get back to Detroit. I cannot tell
+you all his delight. And then his sorrow for you. For we were afraid you
+were no longer living. What a strange story!"</p>
+
+<p>"It has happened before, being carried away by Indians. Some time you
+shall hear all, Margot."</p>
+
+<p>The woman nodded. "And if you do not want me, Mam'selle&mdash;" for there was
+much to do at home.</p>
+
+<p>"I do not need you so much just now, but come in again presently. Oh, I
+can never repay you!"</p>
+
+<p>"Wenonah has done more than I."</p>
+
+<p>In the warmth of the fire and the comfortable atmosphere about her, Pani
+had fallen asleep. Jeanne glanced into the chamber. The beds were spread
+up, and, except dust, things were not bad, but she put them in the olden
+order. Then she bathed her face and combed the tangles out of her hair.
+Here was her blue woolen gown, with the curious embroidery of beads and
+bright thread, that Wenonah had made for her last winter, and she
+slipped into it. Now she felt like herself. She would cook a little
+dinner for herself and Pani. And, as she was kneeling on the wide
+hearthstone stirring some broth, the woman opened her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Jeanne," she said, and there was less wandering in her voice, "Jeanne,
+it was a dream. I have been asleep many moons, I think. The great evil
+spirits have had me, dragged me down into their dens, and I could not
+see you. Pani's heart has been sore distressed. It was all a dream,
+little one."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[299]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Yes, a dream!" Jeanne's arms were about her neck.</p>
+
+<p>"And you will never go away, not even if M. Bellestre sends for you!"
+she entreated.</p>
+
+<p>"I shall never go away from La Belle Detroit. Oh, Pani, there may be
+beautiful places in the world," and she thought of the island and
+Miladi, "but none so dear. No, we shall stay here always."</p>
+
+<p>But the news had traveled, and suddenly there was an influx; M. De Ber
+going home to his midday meal could not believe until he had seen Jeanne
+with his own eyes. And the narrow street was filled as with a
+procession.</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne kept to the simple story and let her listeners guess at motives
+or mysterious purposes. They had not harmed her. And a beautiful Indian
+maiden with much power over her red brethren had gained her freedom and
+sent her to a place of safety. Captain Mallard and the "Return" had
+brought her to the town, and that was all.</p>
+
+<p>It was almost night when Father Rameau came. He had grown strangely old,
+it seemed to her, and the peaceful lines of his face were disturbed. He
+had come back to the home of years to find himself curiously supplanted
+and new methods in use that savored less of love and more of strict
+rule. He had known so much of the hardness of the pioneer lives, of the
+enjoyment and courage the rare seasons of pleasure gave them, of the
+ignorance that could understand little of the higher life, of the strong
+prejudices and superstitions that had to be uprooted gently and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[300]</a></span> perhaps
+wait for the next generation. Truth, honesty, and temperance were rare
+virtues and of slow growth. The new license brought in by the English
+was hard to combat, but he had worked in love and patience, and now he
+found his methods condemned and new ones instituted. His heart ached.</p>
+
+<p>But he was glad enough to clasp Jeanne to his heart and to hear her
+simple faith in the miracle that had been wrought. How great it was, and
+what her danger had been, he was never to know. For Owaissa's sake and
+her debt to her she kept silence as to that part.</p>
+
+<p>Certainly Jeanne had an ovation. When she went into the street there
+were smiles and bows. Some of the ladies came to speak to her, and
+invited her to their houses, and found her extremely interesting.</p>
+
+<p>Madame De Ber was very gracious, and both Rose and Marie were friendly
+enough. But Madame flung out one little arrow that missed its mark.</p>
+
+<p>"Your old lover soon consoled himself it seems. It is said he married a
+handsome Indian girl up at the Strait. I dare say he was pledged to
+her."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. It was Owaissa who freed me from captivity. She came down to Bois
+Blanc and heard the story and sent me away in her own canoe with her
+favorite servant. Louis Marsac was up at St. Ignace getting a priest
+while she waited. I cannot think he was at all honest in proposing
+marriage to me when another had the right. But there was a grand time it
+was said, and they were very happy."</p>
+
+<p>Madame stared. "It was a good thing for you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[301]</a></span> that you did not care for
+him. I had a distrust for him. He was too handsome. And then he believed
+nothing and laughed at religion. But the Marsacs are going to be very
+rich it is said. You did not see them married?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no." Jeanne laughed with a bitterness she had not meant to put into
+her voice. "He was away when Owaissa came to me and heard my plight. And
+then there was need of haste. I had to go at once, and it would not have
+been pleasant even if I could have waited."</p>
+
+<p>"No, no. Men are much given to make love to young girls who have no one
+to look after them. They think nothing of it."</p>
+
+<p>"So it was fortunate that it was distasteful to me."</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne had a girl's pride in wanting this woman to understand that she
+was in no wise hurt by Marsac's recreancy. Then she added, "The girl was
+beautiful as Indian girls go, and it seems a most excellent marriage.
+She will be fond of that wild northern country. I could not be content
+in it."</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne felt that she was curiously changed, though sometimes she longed
+passionately for the wild little girl who had been ready for every kind
+of sport and pleasure. But the children with whom she had played were
+grown now, boys great strapping fellows with manners both coarse and
+shy, going to work at various businesses, and the girls had lovers or
+husbands,&mdash;they married early then. So she seemed left alone. She did
+not care for their chatter nor their babies of which they seemed so
+proud.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[302]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>So she kept her house and nursed Pani back to some semblance of her
+former self. But often it was a touch of the childhood of old age, and
+she rambled about those she had known, the De Longueils and Bellestres,
+and the night Jeanne had been left in her arms.</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne liked the chapel minister and his wife very much. The lady had so
+many subjects to converse about that never led to curious questions. The
+minister lent her books and they talked them over afterward. This was
+the world she liked.</p>
+
+<p>But she had not lost her love for that other world of freedom and
+exhilaration. After a brief Indian summer with days of such splendor
+that it seemed as if the great Artist was using his most magnificent
+colors, winter set in sharp and with a snap that startled every one.
+Snow blocked the roads and the sparkling expanse of crust on the top was
+the delight of the children, who walked and slid and pulled each other
+in long loads like a chain of dogs. And some of the lighter weight young
+people skated over it like flying birds. In the early evening all was
+gayety. Jeanne was not lacking in admirers. Young Loisel often called
+for her, and Martin Lavosse would easily have verged on the sentimental
+if Jeanne had not been so gay and unconscious. He was quite sore over
+the defection of Rose De Ber, who up in one of the new streets was
+hobnobbing with the gentry and quite looking down on the Beesons.</p>
+
+<p>Then the minister and his wife often joined these outdoor parties. Since
+he neither played cards,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[303]</a></span> danced, nor drank in after-dinner symposiums,
+this spirited amusement stirred his blood. Pani went to bed early, and
+Margot would bring in her sewing and see that nothing untoward happened.</p>
+
+<p>Few of the stores were open in the evenings. Short as the day was, all
+the business could be done in it. Now and then one saw a feeble light in
+a window where a man stayed to figure on some loss or gain.</p>
+
+<p>Fleets were laid up or ventured only on short journeys. From the
+northern country came stories of ice and snow that chilled one's marrow.
+Yet the great fires, the fur rugs and curtains and soft blankets kept
+one comfortable within.</p>
+
+<p>There were some puzzling questions for Jeanne. She liked the freedom of
+conscience at the chapel, and then gentle Father Rameau drew her to the
+church.</p>
+
+<p>"If I had two souls," she said one day to the minister, "I should be
+quite satisfied. And it seems to me sometimes as if I were two different
+people," looking up with a bright half smile. "In childhood I used to
+lay some of my wildnesses on to the Indian side. I had a curious fancy
+for a strain of Indian blood."</p>
+
+<p>"But you have no Indian ancestry?"</p>
+
+<p>"I think not. I am not so anxious for it now," laughing gayly. "But that
+side of me protests against the servitude Father Gilbert so insists
+upon. And I hate confession. To turn one's self inside out, to give away
+the sacred trusts of others&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"No, that is not necessary," he declared hastily.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[304]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"But when the other lives are tangled up with yours, when you can only
+tell half truths&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>He smiled then. "Mademoiselle Jeanne, your short life has not had time
+to get much entangled with other lives, or with secrets you are aware
+of."</p>
+
+<p>"I think it has been curiously entangled," she replied. "M'sieu
+Bellestre, whom I have almost forgotten, M. Loisel&mdash;and the old
+schoolmaster I told you of, who I fancy now was a sad heretic&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>She paused and flushed, while her eyes were slowly downcast. There was
+Monsieur St. Armand. How could she explain this to a priest? And was not
+Monsieur a heretic, too? That was her own precious, delightful secret,
+and she would give it into no one's keeping.</p>
+
+<p>She was very happy with all this mystery about her, he thought, very
+simple minded and sweet, doing the whole duty of a daughter to this poor
+Indian woman in return for her care. And when Pani was gone? She was
+surely fitted for some other walk in life, but she was unconsciously
+proud, she would not step over into it, some one must take her by the
+hand.</p>
+
+<p>"But why trouble about the Church, as you call it? It is the life one
+leads, not the organization. Are these people down by the wharves and
+those holes on St. Louis street, where there is drunkenness and gambling
+and swearing, any the better for their confession and their masses, and
+what not?"</p>
+
+<p>"If I was the priest they should not come unless they reformed," and her
+eyes flashed. "But when I turn away something calls me, and when I go
+there<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[305]</a></span> I do not like it. They want me to go among the sisters, to be a
+nun perhaps, and that I should hate."</p>
+
+<p>"At present you are doing a daughter's duty, let that suffice. Pani
+would soon die without you. When a new work comes to hand God will make
+the way plain for you."</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne gave an assenting nod.</p>
+
+<p>"She is a curious child," the minister said to his wife afterward, "and
+yet a very sweet, simple-hearted one. But to confine her to any routine
+would make her most unhappy."</p>
+
+<p>There were all the Christmas festivities, and Jeanne did enjoy them.
+Afterward&mdash;some of the days were very long it seemed. She was tired of
+the great white blanket of snow and ice, and the blackness of the
+evergreens that in the cold turned to groups of strange monsters. Bears
+came down out of the woods, the sheep dogs and their masters had fights
+with wolves; there were dances and the merry sounds of the violin in
+every household where there were men and boys. Then Lent, not very
+strictly kept after all, and afterward Easter and the glorious spring.</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne woke into new life. "I must go out for the first wild flowers,"
+she said to Pani. "It seems years since I had any. And the robin and the
+thrush and the wild pigeons have come back, and the trees bud with the
+baths of sunshine. All the air is throbbing with fragrance."</p>
+
+<p>Pani looked disturbed.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, thou wilt not go to the woods?" she cried.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[306]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I will take Wenonah and one of the boys. They are sturdy now and can
+howl enough to scare even a panther. No, Pani, there is no one to carry
+me away. They would know that I should slip through their fingers;" and
+she laughed with the old time joyousness.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[307]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>CHAPTER XVIII.</h2>
+
+<h3>A HEARTACHE FOR SOME ONE.</h3>
+
+
+<p>"Jeanne," exclaimed Father Rameau, "thou art wanted at the Chapter
+house."</p>
+
+<p>He stood in the doorway of the little cottage and glanced curiously at
+the two inmates. Pani often amused herself cutting fringe for Wenonah,
+under the impression that it was needed in haste, and she was very happy
+over it. A bowl of violets and wild honeysuckle stood on the table, and
+some green branches hung about giving the room the odor of the new
+season and an air of rejoicing.</p>
+
+<p>"What now?" She took his wrinkled old hand in hers so plump and dimpled.
+"Have I committed some new sin? I have been so glad for days and days
+that I could only rejoice."</p>
+
+<p>"No, not sin. It is to hear a strange story and to be happier, perhaps."</p>
+
+<p>He looked curiously at her. "Oh, something has happened!" she cried. Was
+it possible M. St. Armand had returned? For days her mind had been full
+of him. And he would be the guest of the Fleurys.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I should spoil it in the telling, and I had strict injunctions."
+There was an air of mystery about him.</p>
+
+<p>Surely there was no trouble. But what could they<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[308]</a></span> want with her? A
+strange story! Could some one have learned about her mother or her
+father?</p>
+
+<p>"I will change my attire in a moment. Pani, Margot will gladly come and
+keep you company."</p>
+
+<p>"Nay, little one, I am not a baby to be watched," Pani protested.</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne laughed. She looked very sweet and charming in her blue and white
+frock made in a plain fashion, for it did not seem becoming in her to
+simulate the style of the great ladies. A soft, white kerchief was drawn
+in a knot about her shoulders, showing the shapely throat that was
+nearer ivory than pearl. In the knot she drew a few violets. Head gear
+she usually disdained, but now she put over her curls a dainty white cap
+that made a delicious contrast with the dark rings nestling below the
+edge. A pretty, lissome girl, with a step so light it would not have
+crushed the grass under her feet, had there been any.</p>
+
+<p>"There seems a great stir in the town," she said.</p>
+
+<p>They had turned into St. Anne's street and were going toward the church.</p>
+
+<p>"The new Governor General Hull is to come in a few weeks, and the
+officers have word to look him up a home, for governors have not lived
+in Detroit before. No doubt there will be fine times among the
+Americans."</p>
+
+<p>"And there flies a white flag down at the river's edge&mdash;has that
+something to do with it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, the boat came in last evening. It is one of the great men up at the
+North, I think in the fur com<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[309]</a></span>pany. But he has much influence over the
+Indian tribes, and somehow there is a whisper that there may be
+disaffection and another union such as there was in Pontiac's time,
+which heaven forbid! He is called the White Chief."</p>
+
+<p>"The White Chief!" Jeanne stopped short in a maze of astonishment.</p>
+
+<p>"That has nothing to do with thee," said the priest. He preferred her
+interest to run in another channel.</p>
+
+<p>"But&mdash;I was on his island. I saw his wife and children, you remember.
+Oh, I must see him&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Not now;"&mdash;and her guide put out his hand.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no," and she gave a short laugh. "As if I would go running after a
+strange man; a great chief! But he is not an Indian. He is French."</p>
+
+<p>"I do remember, yes. There seems a great commotion, as if all the ships
+had come in. The winter was so long and cold that business is all the
+more brisk. Here, child, pay a little attention to where you are going.
+There is a lack of reverence in you young people that pains me."</p>
+
+<p>"Pardon me, father." Jeanne knelt on the church steps and crossed
+herself. She had run up here in the dark the first night she had been
+back in Detroit, just to kneel and give thanks, but she had told no one.</p>
+
+<p>Then she walked decorously beside him. There was the Chapel of Retreat,
+a room where the nuns came and spent hours on their knees. They passed
+that, going down a wide hall. On one side some young girls sat doing
+fine embroidery for religious<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[310]</a></span> purposes. At the end a kind of reception
+room, and there were several people in this now, two priests and three
+woman in the garb of Ursuline nuns.</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne glanced around. A sort of chill crept over her. The room was bare
+and plain except a statue of the Virgin, and some candles and
+crucifixes. Nearly in the center stood a table with a book of devotions
+on it.</p>
+
+<p>"This is Jeanne Angelot," exclaimed Father Rameau. She, in her youth and
+health and beauty, coming out of the warm and glowing sunshine of May,
+brought with her an atmosphere and radiance that seemed like a sudden
+sunrise in the dingy apartment. The three women in the coif and gown of
+the Ursulines fingered their beads and, after sharp glances at the maid,
+dropped their eyes, and their faces fell into stolid lines.</p>
+
+<p>Another woman rose from the far corner and her gown made a swish on the
+bare floor. She came almost up to Jeanne, who shrank back in an
+inexplicable terror, a motion that brought a spasm of color to the
+newcomer's face, and a gasp for breath.</p>
+
+<p>She was, perhaps, a little above the medium height, slim alway and now
+very thin. Her eyes were sunken, with grayish shadows underneath, her
+cheeks had a hollow where fullness should have been, her lips were
+compressed in a nearly straight line. She was not old, but asceticism
+had robbed her of every indication of youth, had made severity the
+leading indication in her countenance.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[311]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Jeanne Angelot," she repeated. "You are quite sure, Father, those
+garments belonged to her?"</p>
+
+<p>The poor woman felt the secret antipathy and she, too, seemed to
+contract, to realize the mysterious distance between them, the
+unlikeness of which she had not dreamed. For in her narrow life of
+devotion she had endeavored to crucify all human feelings and
+affections. That was her bounden duty for her girlhood's sin. Girls were
+poor, weak creatures and their wills counseled them wrongly, wickedly.
+She had come to snatch this child, the result of her own selfish dreams,
+her waywardness, from a like fate. She should be housed, safe, kept from
+evil. The nun, too, had dreamed, although Berth&ecirc; Campeau had said, "She
+is a wild little thing and it is suspected she has Indian blood in her
+veins." But it was the rescue of a soul to the service of God, the soul
+she was answerable for, not the ardor of human love.</p>
+
+<p>The father made a slow inclination of the head.</p>
+
+<p>"They were upon her that night she was dropped in the Pani's lap, and
+the card pinned to her. Then two letters curiously wrought upon her
+thigh."</p>
+
+<p>"Jeanne, Jeanne, I am your mother."</p>
+
+<p>It was the woman who was the suppliant, who felt a strange misgiving
+about this spirited girl with resolute eyes and poise of the head like a
+bird who would fly the next moment. And yet it was not the entreaty of
+starved and waiting love, that would have clasped arms about the slim,
+proud figure that stood almost defiant, suspicious, unbelieving.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[312]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The others had heard the story and there was no surprise in their
+countenances.</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne seemed at first like a marble image. The color went out of her
+cheeks but her eyes were fixed steadfastly upon the woman, their blue so
+clear, so penetrating, that she shrank farther into herself, seemed
+thinner and more wan.</p>
+
+<p>"Your mother," and Father Rameau would fain have taken the girl's hand,
+but she suddenly clasped them behind her back. There was incredulity in
+the look, repulsion. What if there were some plot? She glanced at Father
+Gilbert but his cold eyes expressed only disapprobation.</p>
+
+<p>"My mother," she said slowly. "My mother has been dead years, and I owe
+love and gratitude to the Indian woman, Pani, who has cared for me with
+all fondness."</p>
+
+<p>"You do not as yet understand," interposed Father Rameau. "You have not
+heard the story."</p>
+
+<p>She had in her mind the splendid motherhood of Miladi as she had seen it
+in that beautiful island home.</p>
+
+<p>"A mother would not desert her child and leave it to the care of
+strangers, Indian enemies perhaps, and send a message that she was
+dead," was the proud reply.</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne Angelot's words cut like a knife. There was no sign of belief in
+her eyes, no dawning tenderness.</p>
+
+<p>The woman bowed her head over her clasped hands and swayed as if she
+would fall.</p>
+
+<p>"It is right," she answered in a voice that might<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[313]</a></span> have come from the
+grave. "It is part of my punishment. I had no right to bring this child
+into the world. Holy Mother, I accept, but let me snatch her soul from
+perdition!"</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne's face flamed scarlet. "I trust the good Father above," she
+declared with an accent of uplifted faith that irradiated her with
+serene strength. "Once in great peril he saved me. I will trust my cause
+to him and he will clear my way."</p>
+
+<p>"Thou ignorant child!" declared Father Gilbert. "Thou hast no human love
+in thy breast. There must be days and weeks of penance and discipline
+before thou art worthy even to touch this woman's hand. She is thy
+mother. None other hath any right to thee. Thou must be trained in
+obedience, in respect; thy pride and indifference must be cast out, evil
+spirits that they be. She hath suffered for thy sake; she must have
+amends when thou art in thy right mind. Thou wert given to the Church in
+Holy Baptism, and now she will reclaim thee."</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne turned like a stag at bay, proud, daring, defiant. It was some
+evil plot. Could a true mother lend herself to such a cruel scheme? Why
+was she not drawn to her, instead of experiencing this fear and
+repulsion? Would they keep her here, shut her up in a dark room as they
+had years ago, when she had kicked and screamed until Father Rameau had
+let her out to liberty and the glorious sunlight? Could she not make one
+wild dash now&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>There was a shuffling of steps in the hall and a glitter of trappings.
+The Commandant of the Fort<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[314]</a></span> stepped forward to the doorway and glanced
+in. The priests questioned with their eyes, the nuns turned aside.</p>
+
+<p>"We were told we should find Father Rameau here. There is some curious
+business. Ah, here is the girl herself, Mademoiselle Jeanne Angelot.
+There is a gentleman here desirous of meeting her, and has a strange
+story for her ear. Can we have a private room&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Mademoiselle Jeanne Angelot is in the care of the Church and her
+mother, who has come to claim her;" was the emphatic reply.</p>
+
+<p>"Her mother!" The man beside the Commandant stepped forward. "Her mother
+is dead," he said, gravely.</p>
+
+<p>"The Sieur Gaston de la Touch&ecirc; Angelot, better known by repute as the
+White Chief of the Island," announced the officer; and the guest bowed
+to them all.</p>
+
+<p>The woman fell on her knees and bowed her head to the floor. The man
+glanced about the small concourse. He was tall, nearer forty than
+thirty, of a fine presence, and, though bronzed by exposure, was
+handsome, and not only that, but noble as to face; the kind of man to
+compel admiration and respect, and with the air of authority that sways
+in an unquestioning manner. His eyes rested on the girl. The same proud
+bearing, though with virginal softness and pliability, the same large
+steady eyes, both with the wondering look as they rushed to each other's
+glance.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[315]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"If the tale I have heard, or rather have pieced out <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'om'">from</ins> vague bits and
+suggestions, and the similarity of name be true, I think I have a right
+to claim this girl as my daughter, supposed dead for years. There were
+some trinkets found on her, and there were two initials wrought in her
+fair baby limb by my hand. Can I see these articles?"</p>
+
+<p>Then he crossed to the girl and studied her from head to foot, smiled
+with a little triumph, and faced the astonished group.</p>
+
+<p>"I have marked her with my eyes as well," he said with a smile. "Jeanne,
+do you not feel that the same blood flows through our veins? Does not
+some mysterious voice of nature assure you that I am your father, even
+before the proofs are brought to light? You must know&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Ah, did she not know! The voice spoke with no uncertain sound. Jeanne
+Angelot went to her father's arms.</p>
+
+<p>The little group were so astounded that no one spoke. The woman still
+knelt, nay, shriveled in a little heap.</p>
+
+<p>"She has fainted," and one of the sisters went to her, "Help, let us
+carry her into the next room."</p>
+
+<p>They bore her away. Father Gilbert turned fiercely to the Sieur Angelot.</p>
+
+<p>"There might be some question as to rights in the child," he said, in a
+clear, cold tone. "When did the Sieur repudiate his early marriage? He
+has on his island home a new wife and children."</p>
+
+<p>"Death ends the most sacred of all ties for this<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[316]</a></span> world. Coming to meet
+me the party were captured by a band of marauding Indians. Few escaped.
+Months afterward I had the account from one of the survivors. The
+child's preservation must have been a miracle. And that she has been
+here years&mdash;" he pressed her closer to his heart.</p>
+
+<p>"Monsieur Angelot, I think you will not need us in the untangling of
+this strange incident, but we shall be glad to hear its ending. I shall
+expect you to dine with me as by previous arrangement. I wish you might
+bring your pretty daughter."</p>
+
+<p>The Commandant bowed to the company and turned, attended by his suite.
+When their soldierly tread had ceased on the steps, Father Gilbert
+confronted the White Chief.</p>
+
+<p>"Your wife," he began in an authoritative tone, fixing his keen eyes on
+the Sieur Angelot, "your wife whom you tempted from her vows and
+unlawfully married is still alive. I think she can demand her child."</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne clung closer to her father and his inmost soul responded. But
+aloud he exclaimed in a horrified tone, "Good God!" Then in a moment,
+turning almost fiercely to the priest, "Why did she give away her child
+and let it be thought a foundling? For if the story is true she has been
+little better than a waif, a foundling of Detroit."</p>
+
+<p>"She was dying and intended to send it to you. She had to intrust it to
+a kind-hearted squaw. What happened then will never be known, until one
+evening it was dropped in the lap of this Pani woman who has been foster
+mother."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[317]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Is this so, Jeanne?" He raised the flushed face and looked into the
+eyes with a glance that would have been stern had it not been so full of
+love.</p>
+
+<p>"It is so," she made answer in a soft, clear voice. "She has been a
+mother to me and I love her. She is old and I will never be separated
+from her."</p>
+
+<p>"There spoke the loyal child. And now, reverend father, where is this
+wife? It is a serious complication. But if, as you say, I married her
+unlawfully&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You enticed her from the convent." There was the severity of the judge
+in the tone.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Parbleu!</i> It did not need much enticing," and a half smile crossed his
+handsome face while his eyes softened. "We were both in love and she
+abhorred the monotony of convent life. We were of different faiths; that
+should have made me pause, but I thought then that love righted
+everything. I was of an adventurous turn and mightily stirred by the
+tales of the new world. Huguenot faith was not in favor in France, and I
+resolved to seek my fortunes elsewhere. She could not endure the
+parting. Yes, Father, since she had not taken any vow, not even begun
+her novitiate, I overpersuaded her. We were married in my faith. We came
+to this new world, and in Boston this child was born. We were still very
+happy. But I could not idle my life doing things befitting womankind. We
+came to Albany, and there I found some traders who told stirring tales
+of the great North and the fortunes made in the fur trade. My wife did
+oppose my going, but the enthu<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[318]</a></span>siasm of love, if I may call it so, had
+begun to wane. She had misgivings as to whether she had done right in
+marrying me&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"As a true daughter of the Church would," interrupted the priest
+severely.</p>
+
+<p>"I was willing that she should return to her own faith, which she did. I
+left her in good hands. Fortune favored me. I liked the stir and
+excitement, the out-of-door life, the glamour of adventures. I found men
+who were of the same cast of mind. To be sure, there were dangers, there
+was also the pleasure and gratification of leadership, of subduing
+savage natures. When I had resolved to settle in the North I sent to my
+wife by a messenger and received answer that since I thought it best she
+would come to me. I felt that she had no longing for the wild life, but
+I meant to do my utmost to satisfy her. There was her Church at St.
+Ignace, there were kindly priests, and some charming and heroic women.
+With my love to shield her I felt she must be happy. There was a company
+to leave Albany, enough it was thought to make traveling safe, for
+Indians were still troublesome. I made arrangements for her to join
+them, and was to meet them at Detroit. Alas! word came that, while they
+were still some distance from their point of embarkation on Lake Erie,
+they were set upon and massacred by a body of roving Indians. Instead of
+my beloved wife I met one of the survivors in Detroit and heard the
+terrible story. Not a woman in the party had escaped. The Indians had
+not burthened themselves with troublesome pris<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[319]</a></span>oners. I returned to
+Michilimackinac with a heart bowed down with grief. There was the
+comfortable home awaiting my wife, made as pretty as it had been
+possible to do. I could not endure it and joined some members of the
+company going to Hudson Bay. I made some fresh efforts to learn if
+anything further had been heard, but no word ever came. It is true that
+I married again. It does not seem possible that a once wedded wife
+should have lived all these years and made no effort to communicate with
+her husband, who, after all, could have been found. And though for years
+I have been known as the White Chief, from a curious power I have gained
+over the Indians, the hunters, and traders, I am also known as the Sieur
+Angelot."</p>
+
+<p>He stood proudly before them, his handsome, weather-bronzed face bearing
+the impress of truth, his eyes shining with the clearest, highest honor.
+The child Jeanne felt the stiffening of every muscle, and it went
+through her with a thrill of joy.</p>
+
+<p>"It is a long story," began Father Rameau, gently, "a strange one, too.
+Through the courage and craftiness of a Miami squaw, who had been a sort
+of maid to Madame Angelot, she escaped death. They hid in the woods and
+subsisted on anything they could find until Madame could go no farther.
+She thought herself dying, and implored the woman to take her babe to
+Detroit and find its father, and she lay down in a leafy covert to die.
+In that hour she repented bitterly of her course in leaving the convent
+and listening to a forbidden love. She prayed God<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[320]</a></span> to believe if it were
+to do over again she would hearken to the voice of the Church, and hoped
+this fervent repentance would be remembered in her behalf. Then she
+resigned herself to death. But in the providence of the good All Father
+she was rescued by another party and taken to a farmhouse not far
+distant. Here were two devoted women who were going to Montreal to enter
+the convent, and were to embark at a point on Lake Ontario, where a boat
+going North would touch. They nursed her for several weeks before she
+was able to travel, and then she decided to cast in her lot with them.
+Her husband, no doubt, had the child. She was dead to the world. She
+belonged henceforward to the Church and to the service of God. Moreover,
+it was what she desired. She had tried worldly love and her own will,
+and been unhappy in it. Monsieur, she was born for a devotee. It was a
+sad mistake when she yielded to your persuasions. Her parents had
+destined her for the convent, and she had a double debt to pay. The
+marriage was unlawful and she was absolved from it."</p>
+
+<p>"Then I was free also. It cannot bind on one side and loose on the
+other. I believe you have said rightly. She was not happy, though I
+think even now she will tell you that I did all in my power. I did not
+oppose her going back to her first faith, although then I would have
+fought against this disruption of the marriage tie."</p>
+
+<p>"It was no marriage in God's sight, with a heretic," interposed Father
+Gilbert. "She repented her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[321]</a></span> waywardness bitterly. God made her to see it
+through sore trial. But the child is hers."</p>
+
+<p>"Not when you admit that she sent it to me, gave me the right," was the
+confident reply.</p>
+
+<p>He pressed Jeanne closer and with a strength that said, "I will fight
+for you." The proud dignity of his carriage, the resolution in his face,
+indicated that he would not be an easy enemy to combat. There was a
+strange silence, as if no one could tell what would be the next move. He
+broke it, however.</p>
+
+<p>"The child shall decide," he said. "She shall hear her mother's story,
+and then mine. She shall select with whom she will spend the coming
+years. God knows I should have been glad enough to have had her then. By
+what sad mistake fate should have traversed the mother's wishes, and
+given her these wasted years, I cannot divine."</p>
+
+<p>They were only to guess at that. The Miami woman had grown tired of her
+charge, so unlike the papooses of the Indian mothers. Then, too, it was
+heavy to carry, difficult to feed. She met a party of her own tribe and
+resolved to cast in her destiny with them. They were going into Ohio to
+meet some scattered members of their people, and to effect a union with
+other Indian nations, looking to the recovery of much of their power.
+She went up to Detroit in a canoe, and, taking the sleeping child,
+reconnoitered awhile; finally, seeing Pani sitting alone under a great
+tree, she dropped the child into her lap and ran swiftly away, feeling
+confident the father would in some way discover the little one, since
+her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[322]</a></span> name was pinned to her clothing. Then she rowed rapidly back, her
+Indian ideas quite satisfied.</p>
+
+<p>"I wonder if I might see"&mdash;what should he call her?&mdash;"Jeanne's mother."</p>
+
+<p>Word came back that the nun was too much enfeebled to grant him an
+interview. But she would receive the child. Jeanne clung to her father
+and glanced up with entreating eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"I will wait for you. Yes, see her. Hear her story first." The child
+followed the sister reluctantly. Sieur Angelot, who had been standing,
+now took a seat.</p>
+
+<p>"I should like to see the trinkets you spoke of&mdash;and the clothes," he
+said with an air of authority.</p>
+
+<p>Father Rameau brought them. Father Gilbert and the sister retired to an
+adjoining room.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," the Sieur remarked, "this is our miniature. It was done in
+Boston. And the ring was my gift to the child when she was a year old;
+it was much too big," and he smiled. "And the little garments. You are
+to be thanked most sincerely for keeping them so carefully. Tell me
+something about the life of the child."</p>
+
+<p>Father Rameau had been so intimately connected with it, that he was a
+most excellent narrator. The episode with the Bellestres and Monsieur's
+kindly care, the efforts to subdue in some measure the child's wildness
+and passion for liberty, which made the father smile, thinking of his
+own exuberant spirits and adventures, her affection for the Indian
+woman, her desultory training, that Father Rameau believed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[323]</a></span> now had been
+a sinful mistake, her strange disappearance&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"That gave me the clew," interrupted his hearer. "By some mysterious
+chain of events she was brought to her father's house. I was up North at
+the time, and only recently heard the story. The name Jeanne Angelot
+roused me. There could not be a mistake. Some miracle must have
+intervened to save the child. Then I came at once. But you think
+she&mdash;the mother&mdash;believes her marriage was a sin?" What if she still
+cared?</p>
+
+<p>The Sieur asked it with great hesitation. He thought of the proud,
+loving wife, the spirited, beautiful boys, the dainty little
+daughter&mdash;no, he could not relinquish them.</p>
+
+<p>"She is vowed to the Church now, and is at rest. Nothing you can say
+will disturb her. The good Bishop of Montreal absolved her from her
+wrongful vow. While we hold marriage as sacred and indissoluble, it has
+to be a true marriage and with the sanction of the Church. This had no
+priestly blessing or benediction. And she repented of it. For years she
+has been in the service of the Lord."</p>
+
+<p>He was glad to hear this. Down in his heart he knew how she had
+tormented her tender conscience with vain and rigorous questions and had
+made herself unhappy in pondering them. But he thought their new life
+together would neutralize this tendency and bring them closer in unison.
+Had she, indeed, made such a sad mistake in her feelings as to give him
+only an enthusiastic but temporary affection, when she was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[324]</a></span> ready to
+throw up all the beliefs and the training of her youth? But then the
+convent round looked dreary to her.</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne came from the room where she had been listening to her mother's
+story of self-blame and present abhorrence for the step she had so
+unwisely taken in yielding to one who should have been nothing to her.</p>
+
+<p>"But you loved him then!" cried Jeanne, vehemently, thinking of the
+other woman whose joy and pride was centered in the Sieur Angelot.</p>
+
+<p>"It was a sinful fancy, a temptation of the evil one. I should have
+struggled against it. I should have resigned myself to the life laid out
+for me. A man's love is a delusion. Oh, my child, there is nothing like
+the continual service of God to keep one from evil. The joys of the
+world are but as dust and ashes, nay, worse, they leave an ineradicable
+stain that not even prayer and penance can wash out. And this is why I
+have come to warn, to reclaim you, if possible. When I heard the story
+from a devoted young sister, whose name in the world was Berth&ecirc; Campeau,
+I said I must go and snatch the soul of my child from the shadow of
+perdition that hangs over her."</p>
+
+<p>Berth&ecirc; Campeau! How strange it was that the other mother, nearing the
+end of life, should have plead with her child to stay a little longer in
+the world and wait until she was gone before she buried herself in
+convent walls!</p>
+
+<p>Was it a happy life, even a life of resignation, that had left such
+lines in her mother's face? She was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[325]</a></span> hardly in the prime of life, but
+she looked old already. Instead of being drawn to sympathize with her,
+Jeanne was repelled. Her mother did not want her for solace and human
+love and sympathy, but simply to keep her from evil. Was affection such
+a sin? She could love her father, yes, she could love M. St. Armand; and
+the Indian woman with her superstitions, her ignorance, was very, very
+dear. And she liked brightness, happy faces, the wide out-of-doors with
+its birds' songs, its waving trees, its fragrant breathing from shrub
+and flower that filled one with joy. Pani kissed her and clasped her to
+her heart, held her in her arms, smoothed the tangled curls, sometimes
+kissed them, too, caressed her soft, dainty hands as if they were
+another human being. This woman was her mother, but there was no
+passionate longing in her eyes, no tender possessing grasp in the hands
+that lay limp and colorless on her black gown. And Jeanne would have
+been still more horrified if she had known that those eyes looked upon
+her as part of a sinful life she had overcome by nights of vigil and
+days of solitude in work and prayer that she had once abhorred and fled
+from. Yet she pitied her profoundly. She longed to comfort her, but the
+nun did not want the comfort of human love.</p>
+
+<p>"No, I cannot decide," Jeanne cried, and yet she knew in her soul she
+had decided.</p>
+
+<p>She came out to her father with tears in her eyes, but the shelter of
+his arms was so strong and safe.</p>
+
+<p>"Reverend fathers," the Sieur Angelot said, with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[326]</a></span> a grave inclination of
+the head, "I thank you for your patience and courtesy. I can appreciate
+your feelings, too, but I think the law will uphold me in my claim to my
+daughter. And in my estimation Jeanne de Burre committed no sin in
+marrying me, and I would ever have been a faithful husband to her. But
+the decision of the Church seems most in consonance with her feelings. I
+have the honor of wishing you good day."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[327]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>CHAPTER XIX.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE HEART OF LOVE.</h3>
+
+
+<p>"And now," began the Sieur Angelot, when they were out in the sunshine,
+the choicest blessing of God, and had left the bare, gloomy room behind
+them, "and now, <i>petite</i> Jeanne, let us find thy Indian mother."</p>
+
+<p>Was there a prouder or happier girl in all Old Detroit than Jeanne
+Angelot? The narrow, crooked streets with their mean houses were
+glorified to her shining eyes, the crowded stores and shops, some of
+them with unfragrant wares, and the motley crowd running to and fro,
+dodging, turning aside, staring at this tall, imposing man, with his
+grand, free air and his soldierly tread, a stranger, with Jeanne Angelot
+hanging on his arm in all the bloom and radiance of girlhood. Several
+knew and bowed with deference.</p>
+
+<p>M. Fleury came out of his warehouse.</p>
+
+<p>"Mam'selle Jeanne, allow me to present my most hearty and sincere
+congratulations. M. St. Armand insisted if the truth could be evolved it
+would be found that you belonged to gentle people and were of good
+birth. And we are all glad it is so. I had the honor of being presented
+to your father this morning;" and he bowed with respect. "Mademoiselle,
+I have news that will give thee greatest joy, unless thou hast forgotten
+old friends in the delight of the new. The 'Adventure' is expected in
+any time to-day,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[328]</a></span> and M. St. Armand is a passenger. I beg your father to
+come and dine with him this evening, and if thou wilt not mind old
+graybeards, we shall be delighted with thy company. There will be my
+daughter to keep thee in countenance."</p>
+
+<p>"M. St. Armand!" Jeanne's face was in an exquisite glow and her voice
+shook a little. Her father gave a surprised glance from one to the
+other.</p>
+
+<p>M. Fleury laughed softly and rubbed his hands together, his eyes shining
+with satisfaction.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, Monsieur," he exclaimed, "thou wilt be surprised at the friends
+Mam'selle Jeanne has in Old Detroit. I may look for thee at five this
+evening?"</p>
+
+<p>They both promised.</p>
+
+<p>Then Jeanne began to tell her story eagerly. The day the flag was
+raised, the after time when she had seen the brave General Wayne, the
+interest that M. St. Armand had taken in having her educated, and how
+she had struggled against her wild tendencies, her passionate love of
+freedom and the woods, the birds, the denizens of the forests. They
+turned in and out, the soldiers at the Citadel saluted, and here was
+Pani on the doorstep.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, little one! It seemed as if thou wert gone forever!"</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne hugged her foster mother in a transport of joy and affection.
+What if Pani had not cared for her all these years? There were some
+orphan children in the town bound out for servants. To be sure, there
+had been M. Bellestre.</p>
+
+<p>Pani did not receive the Sieur Angelot very<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[329]</a></span> graciously. Jeanne tried to
+explain the wonderful things that had happened, but Pani's age and her
+limited understanding made it a hard task. "Thy mother was dead long
+ago," she kept saying. "And they will take thee away, little one&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Then they will take you, too, Pani; I shall never leave you. I love
+you. For years there was no one else to love. And how could I be
+ungrateful?"</p>
+
+<p>She looked so charming in her eagerness that her father bent over and
+kissed her. If her mother had been thus faithful!</p>
+
+<p>"I shall never leave Detroit, little one. You may take up a sapling and
+transplant it, but the old tree, never! It dies. The new soil is
+strange, unfriendly."</p>
+
+<p>"Do not tease her," said her father in a low tone. "It is all strange to
+her, and she does not understand. Try to get her to tell her story of
+the night you came."</p>
+
+<p>At first Pani was very wary with true Indian suspicion. The Sieur
+Angelot had much experience with these children of the forests and
+wilderness. He understood their limited power of expansion, their
+suspicions of anything outside of their own knowledge. But he led her on
+skillfully, and his voice had the rare quality of persuasion, of
+inducing confidence. In her French <i>patois</i>, with now and then an Indian
+word, she began to live over those early years with the unstudied
+eloquence of real love.</p>
+
+<p>"Touchas is dead," interposed Jeanne. "But there is Wenonah, and, oh,
+there is all the country outside, the pretty farms, the houses that are
+not so crowded. In the spring many of them are white<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[330]</a></span>washed, and the
+trees are in bloom, and the roses everywhere, and the birds singing&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>She paused suddenly and flushed, remembering the lovely island home with
+all its beauty.</p>
+
+<p>He laughed with a pleasant sound.</p>
+
+<p>"I should think there would need to be an outside. I hardly see how one
+can get his breath in the crowded streets," he answered.</p>
+
+<p>"But there is all the beautiful river, and the air comes sweeping down
+from the hills. And the canoeing. Oh, it is not to be despised," she
+insisted.</p>
+
+<p>"I shall cherish it because it has cherished thee. And now I must say
+adieu for awhile. I am to talk over some matters with your officers, and
+then&mdash;" there was the meeting with his wife. "And at five I will come
+again. Child, thou art rarely sweet; much too sweet for convent walls."</p>
+
+<p>"Is it unkind in me? I cannot make her seem my mother. Oh, I should love
+her, pity her!"</p>
+
+<p>There were tears in Jeanne's eyes, and her breath came with a great,
+sorrowful throb.</p>
+
+<p>"We will talk of all that to-morrow."</p>
+
+<p>"Thou wilt not go?" Pani gave her a frightened, longing look, as if she
+expected her to follow her father.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, not now. It is all so wonderful, Pani, like some of the books I
+have read at the minister's. And M. St. Armand has come back, or will
+when the boat is in. Oh, what a pity to be no longer a child! A year ago
+I would have run down to the wharf, and now&mdash;"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[331]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Her face was scarlet at the thought. What made this great difference,
+this sense of reticence, of waiting for another to make some sign? The
+frank trust was gone; no, it was not that,&mdash;she was overflowing with
+trust to-day. All the world was loveliness and love. But it must come to
+her; she could not run out to it. There was one black shadow; and then
+she shivered.</p>
+
+<p>She told Pani the story of the morning.</p>
+
+<p>The Indian woman shook her head. "She is not a true mother. She could
+not have left thee."</p>
+
+<p>"But she thought she was dying. And if I had died there in the woods!
+Oh, Pani, I am so glad to live! It is such a joy that it quivers in me
+from head to foot. I am like my father."</p>
+
+<p>She laughed for very gladness. Her mercurial temperament was born of the
+sun and wind, the dancing waters and singing birds.</p>
+
+<p>"He will take thee away," moaned the woman like an autumnal blast.</p>
+
+<p>"I will not go, then," defiantly.</p>
+
+<p>"But fathers do as they like, little one."</p>
+
+<p>"He will be good to me. I shall never leave you, <i>never</i>."</p>
+
+<p>She knelt before Pani and clasped the bony hands, looked up earnestly
+into the faded eyes where the keen lights of only a few years ago were
+dulling, and she said again solemnly, "I will never leave you."</p>
+
+<p>For she recalled the strange change of mood when she had repeated her
+full name to Miladi of the island. She was her father's true wife now,
+and though<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[332]</a></span> Jeanne could not comprehend the intricacies of the case, she
+could see that her father's real happiness lay in this second marriage.
+It took an effort not to blame her own mother for giving him up. That
+handsome woman glowing with life in every pulse, ready to dare any
+danger with him, proud of her motherhood, and, oh, most proud of her
+husband, making his home a temple of bliss, was his true mate. But
+though Jeanne could not have explained jealousy, she felt Miladi would
+not love her for being the Sieur Angelot's daughter. It would be better
+for her to remain here with Pani.</p>
+
+<p>The Sieur had a deeper gravity in his face when he returned to the
+cottage.</p>
+
+<p>The interview with Sister Veronica had been painful to both, yet there
+was the profounder pity on Angelot's side. For even before her husband
+had gone to the North she had begun to question the religious aspect of
+her marriage. If it was unholy, then she had no right to live in sin.
+And during almost two years' absence her morbid faith had grown
+stronger. She would go to him and ask to be released. She would leave
+her child in her place to make amends for her sad mistake.</p>
+
+<p>Circumstances had brought about the same ending by different means. Her
+nurse and companion on her journey had strengthened her faith in her
+resolve. Arrived at Montreal she received still further confirmation of
+the righteousness of her course. She had been an unlawful wife. She had
+sinned in taking the marriage vow. It was no holy sacrament, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[333]</a></span> she
+could be absolved. So she began her novitiate and was presently received
+into the order. She fasted and prayed, she did penance in her convent
+cell, she prayed for the Sieur Angelot that he might be converted to the
+true faith. It was not as her husband, but as one might wrestle for any
+sinful soul. And that the child would be well brought up. She had known
+Berth&ecirc; Campeau, sister Mary Constantia, a long while before she heard
+the story of the little girl who had come so mysteriously to Detroit,
+and who had been wild and perverse beyond anything. One day her name had
+been mentioned. Then she asked the Abbe to communicate with Father
+Rameau for particulars and had been answered. Here was a new work for
+her, to snatch this child from evil ways and bring her up safely in the
+care of the Church. She gained permission to go for her, and here again
+circumstances seemed to play at cross purposes.</p>
+
+<p>The Sieur Angelot understood in a little while that whatever love had
+inspired her that night she had besought him to rescue her from a life
+that looked hateful to her young eyes, the passion that influenced her
+then was utterly dead, abhorrent to her. Better, a thousand times
+better, that it should be so. He could not make that eager, impetuous
+girl, whose voice trembled with emotion, whose kisses answered his,
+whose soft arms clung to his neck, out of this pale, attenuated,
+bloodless woman. Perhaps it was heroic to give all to her Church. Even
+men had done this.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">[334]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"And thou art happy and satisfied in this calling, Mignonne," he half
+assumed, half inquired.</p>
+
+<p>Did the old term of endearment touch some chord that was not quite dead,
+after all? A faint flush brought a wavering heat to her face.</p>
+
+<p>"It is my choice. And if I can have my child to train, to keep from
+evil&mdash;" her voice trembled.</p>
+
+<p>He shook his head. "Nay, I cannot have her bright young life thrust into
+the shadow for which she has no taste. She would pine and die."</p>
+
+<p>"I thought so once. I should have died sooner in the other life. It is
+God and his holy Son who give grace."</p>
+
+<p>"She will not forsake her duty to the one who has taken such kindly care
+of her, the Pani woman."</p>
+
+<p>"She can come, too. Give me my child, it is all I ask of you. Surely you
+do not need her."</p>
+
+<p>Her voice was roused to a certain intensity, her thin hands worked. But
+it seemed to him there was something almost cruel in the motion.</p>
+
+<p>"I cannot force her will. It is as she shall choose."</p>
+
+<p>And seeing Jeanne all eager interest in the doorway of the old cottage,
+he knew that she would never choose to shut herself out of the radiant
+sunlight.</p>
+
+<p>"Here is the old gift for you, my child;" and he clasped the chain with
+its little locket round her neck.</p>
+
+<p>Pani came and looked at it. "Yes, yes," she said. "It was on thy baby
+neck, little one. And there are the two letters&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"It was cruel to prick them in the soft baby flesh,"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">[335]</a></span> the Sieur said,
+smilingly. "I wonder I had the courage. They alone would prove my right.
+And now there is no time to waste. Will you make ready&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I am not often asked among the quality," and her face turned scarlet.
+"I have no fine attire. Wilt thou be ashamed of me?"</p>
+
+<p>She looked so radiant in her girlish beauty, that it seemed to him at
+the moment there was nothing more to desire. And the delicious archness
+in her tone captivated him anew. Consign her to convent walls&mdash;never!</p>
+
+<p>Mam'selle Fleury took charge of Jeanne at once and led her through the
+large hall to a side chamber. Not so long ago she was a gay, laughing
+girl, now she was a gravely sweet woman, nursing a sorrow.</p>
+
+<p>"It was a sudden summons," she explained. "And we could not expect to
+know just when the child grew into a maiden. Therefore you will not feel
+hurt, that I, having a wider experience, prepared for the occasion. Let
+me arrange your costume now. I had this frock when I was of your age,
+though I was hardly as slim. How much you are like your father, child!"</p>
+
+<p>"I think he was a little hurt that I had nothing to honor you with,"
+Jeanne said, simply.</p>
+
+<p>"Monsieur Loisel was saying that you needed a woman's hand, now that you
+were outgrowing childhood."</p>
+
+<p>She drew off Jeanne's plain gown; and though this was simple for the
+fashion of the day, it transformed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">[336]</a></span> the child into a woman. The long,
+pointed bodice, the square neck, with its bordering of handsome lace,
+showing the exquisite throat sloping into the shoulders and chest, the
+puffings that fell like waves about the hips and made ripples as they
+went down the skirt, the sleeves ending at the elbow with a fall of
+lace, and her hair caught up high and falling in a cascade of curls,
+tied with a great bow that looked like a butterfly, changed her so that
+she hardly knew herself.</p>
+
+<p>"O, Mam'selle, you have made me beautiful!" she cried, in delight. "I
+shall be glad to do you honor, and for the sake of M. St. Armand; but my
+father would love me in the plainest gown."</p>
+
+<p>Mam'selle smiled over her handiwork. But Jeanne's <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'beanty'">beauty</ins> was her own.</p>
+
+<p>She had grown many shades fairer during the winter, and had not rambled
+about so much nor been on the water so often. Her slim figure, in its
+virginal lines, was as lissome as the child's, but there was an
+exquisite roundness to every limb and it lent flexibility to her
+movements. A beautiful girl, Mademoiselle Fleury acknowledged to
+herself, and she wondered that no one beside M. St. Armand had seen the
+promise in her.</p>
+
+<p>The Sieur Angelot had been presented to the guest so lately returned
+from abroad.</p>
+
+<p>"I desire to thank you most heartily, Monsieur St. Armand," M. Angelot
+began, "for an unusual interest in my child that I did not know was
+living until a few weeks ago. She is most enthusiastic about you.
+Indeed, I have been almost jealous."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">[337]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>St. Armand smiled, and bowed gracefully.</p>
+
+<p>"I believe I shall prove to you that I had a right, and, if my discovery
+holds good, we are of some distant kin. When I first heard her name a
+vague memory puzzled me, and when I went to France I resolved to search
+for a family link almost forgotten in the many turns there have been in
+the old families in my native land. Three generations ago a Gaston de la
+Touch&ecirc; Angelot gave his life for his religious faith. Those were
+perilous times, and there was little chance for freedom of belief."</p>
+
+<p>"He was my grandfather," returned the Sieur Angelot gravely. "We have
+been Huguenots for generations. More than one has died for his faith."</p>
+
+<p>"And he was a cousin to my father. I am, as you see, in the generation
+before you. And I am glad fate or fortune, as you will, has brought
+about this meeting. When I learned this fact I said: 'As soon as I
+return to America I shall search out this little girl in Old Detroit and
+take her under my care. There will be no one to object, no one who will
+have a better right.' I am all curiosity to know how on your side you
+made the discovery."</p>
+
+<p>There was a rustle of silken trains in the hall. Madame Fleury entered
+in a stiff brocade and a sparkle of jewels, Mam'selle in a softer,
+though still elegant attire, and Jeanne, who stood amazed at the eyes
+bent upon her; even her father was mute from very surprise.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, my sweet Jeanne," began M. St. Armand, smilingly, "thou hast
+strangely outgrown the little girl<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">[338]</a></span> I used to know. Memory hath cheated
+me in the years. For the child that kept such a warm place in my heart
+hath grown into a woman, and not only that, but hath a new friend and
+will not need me."</p>
+
+<p>"Monsieur, no one with remembrance in her heart can so easily give up an
+old friend who made life brighter and happier for her, and who kindled
+the spark of ambition in her soul. I think even my father owes you a
+great debt. I might still have been a wild thing, haunting the woods and
+waters Indian fashion, and, as one might say, despising civilized life,"
+smiling with a bewitching air. "I thank you, Monsieur, for your interest
+in me. For it has given me a great deal of happiness, and no doubt saved
+me from some foolish mistakes."</p>
+
+<p>She had proffered him her dainty hand at the beginning of her speech,
+and now with a charming color she raised her eyes to her father. One
+could trace a decided likeness between them.</p>
+
+<p>"Monsieur St. Armand has done still more," subjoined her father. "He has
+taken pains while in France to hunt up bygone records, and found that
+the families are related. So you have not only a friend but a relative,
+and I surely will join you in gratitude."</p>
+
+<p>"I am most happy." She glanced smilingly from one to the other.
+Mam'selle Fleury watched her with surprise. The grace, ease, and
+presence of mind one could hardly have looked for. "It is in the blood,"
+she said to herself, and she wished, too, that she had made herself a
+friend of this enchanting girl.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">[339]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Then they moved toward the dining room. M. Fleury took in Jeanne as the
+honored guest, and seated her at his right. The Sieur Angelot was beside
+the hostess. The conversation in the nature of the startling incidents
+was largely personal and between the two men. Mam'selle Fleury was
+deeply interested in the adventures of the Sieur Angelot, detailed with
+spirit and vivacity. Jeanne's varying color and her evident pride in her
+father was delightful to witness. That he and this elegant St. Armand
+should have sprung from the same stock was easy to believe. While the
+gentlemen sat over their wine and cigars Mam'selle took Jeanne to the
+pretty sitting room that she had once visited with such awe. It was
+odorous with the evening dew on the vines outside and the peculiar
+fragrance of sweetbrier.</p>
+
+<p>"What an odd thing that you should have been carried off by Indians and
+taken to your father's house!" she began. "And this double
+marriage&mdash;though the Church had annulled your mother's. We have heard of
+the White Chief, but no one could have guessed you were his child. It is
+said&mdash;your mother desires you&mdash;" Mam'selle hesitated as if afraid to
+trench on secret matters, and not sure of the conclusion.</p>
+
+<p>"She wishes me to go into the convent. But I am not like Berth&ecirc; Campeau.
+I should fret and be miserable like a wild beast in a cage. If she were
+ill and needed a nurse and affection, I should be drawn to her. And
+then, I am not of the same faith."</p>
+
+<p>"But&mdash;a mother&mdash;"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">[340]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"O Mam'selle, she doesn't seem like my mother. My father kissed me and
+held me in his arms at once and my whole heart went out to him. I feel
+strange and far away from her, and she thinks human love a snare to draw
+the soul from God. O Mam'selle, when he has made the world so beautiful
+with all the varying seasons, the singing birds and the blooms and the
+leaping waters that take on wonderful tints at sunrise and sunset, how
+could one be shut away from it all? There is so much to give thanks for
+in the wide, splendid world. It must be better to give them with a free,
+grateful heart."</p>
+
+<p>"I have had some sorrow, and once I looked toward convent peace with
+secret longing. But my mother and father said, 'Wait, we both shall need
+thee as we grow older.' There is much good to be done outside. And one
+can pray as I have learned. I cannot think human ties are easily to be
+cast aside when God's own hand has welded them."</p>
+
+<p>"And she sent me to my father. I feel that I belong to him;" Jeanne
+declared, proudly.</p>
+
+<p>"He is a man to be fond of, so gracious and noble. And his island home
+is said to be most beautiful."</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne gave an eloquent description of it and the two handsome boys with
+their splendid mother. Mam'selle wondered that there was no jealousy in
+her young heart. What a charming character she had! Why had not she
+taken her up as well, instead of feeling that M. St. Armand's interest
+was much misplaced? She might have won this sweet child's affection that
+had been lavished upon an old Indian<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">[341]</a></span> woman. At times she had hungered
+for love. Her sister was away, happily married, with babies clinging to
+her knees, and the sufficiency of a gratified life.</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne was sitting upon a silken covered stool, her round arm daintily
+reclining on the other's knee. The elder bent over and kissed her on the
+forehead.</p>
+
+<p>"You belong to love's world," she said.</p>
+
+<p>Then the gentlemen entered. Mam'selle played on the harpsichord, and
+there was conversation until it was time to go.</p>
+
+<p>"You will come again," she exclaimed. "I shall want to see you, though I
+know what your decision will be, and I think it right. And now will you
+keep this gown as a little gift from me? You may want to go elsewhere.
+My mother and I will be happy to chaperon you."</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne looked up, wide-eyed and grateful. "Every one has always been so
+good to me," she rejoined. "Then I will not take it off. It will be such
+a pleasure to Pani. I never thought to look so lovely."</p>
+
+<p>Both gentlemen attended her home, and gave her a tender good night.</p>
+
+<p>Pleasant as the evening was Pani hovered over a handful of fire. Jeanne
+threw some fir twigs and broken pieces of birch bark on the coals, and
+the blaze set the room in a glow. "Look, Pani!" she cried, and then she
+went whirling round the room, her eyes shining, her rose red lips parted
+with a laugh.</p>
+
+<p>"It is a spirit." Pani shook her head and her eyes, distended, looked
+frightened in the gleam of the fire. "Little Jeanne has gone, has gone
+forever."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">[342]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Yes, little Jeanne had gone. She felt that herself. She was gay, eager,
+impetuous, but something new had stolen mysteriously over her.</p>
+
+<p>"Little Jeanne can never go away from you, Pani. Make room in your lap,
+so; now put your arms about me. Never mind the gown. Now, am I not your
+little one?"</p>
+
+<p>Pani laughed, the soft, broken croon of old age.</p>
+
+<p>"My little one come back," she kept repeating in a delighted tone,
+stroking the soft curls.</p>
+
+<p>The next morning M. St. Armand came for a long call. There was so much
+to talk over. He felt sorry for the poor mother, but he, too, objected
+strenuously to Jeanne being persuaded into convent life. He praised her
+for her perseverance in studying, for her improvement under limited
+conditions. Then he wondered a little about her future. If he could have
+the ordering of it!</p>
+
+<p>That afternoon Father Rameau came for her. A ship was to sail the next
+day for Montreal, and her mother would return in it. But when he looked
+in the child's eyes he knew the mother would go alone. Had he been
+derelict in duty and let this lamb wander from the fold? Father Gilbert
+blamed him. Even the mother had rebuked him sharply. Looking into the
+child's radiant face he understood that she had no vocation for a holy
+life. Was not the hand of God over all his children? There were strange
+mysteries no one could fathom. He uttered no word of persuasion, he
+could not. God would guide.</p>
+
+<p>To Jeanne it was an almost heart-breaking inter<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">[343]</a></span>view. Impassioned
+tenderness might have won, to lifelong regret, but it was duty, the
+salvation of her soul always uppermost.</p>
+
+<p>"Still I should not be with you," said Jeanne. "I should take up a
+strange life among strangers. We could not talk over the past, nor be
+the dearest of human beings to each other&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"That is the cross," interrupted the mother. "Sinful desires must be
+nailed to it."</p>
+
+<p>And all her warm, throbbing, eager life, her love for all human
+creatures, for all of God's works.</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne Angelot stood up very straight. Her laughing face grew almost
+severe.</p>
+
+<p>"I cannot do it. I belong to my father. You sent me to him once. I&mdash;I
+love him."</p>
+
+<p>The mother turned and left the room. At that instant she could not trust
+herself to say farewell.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344">[344]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>CHAPTER XX.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE LAST OF OLD DETROIT.</h3>
+
+
+<p>The Sieur Angelot was gladly consulted on many points. The British still
+retained the command of the Grand Portage on Lake Superior, and the
+Ottawa river route to the upper country. By presents and subsidies they
+maintained an influence over the savages of the Northwest. The different
+Indian tribes, though they might have disputes with each other, were
+gradually being drawn together with the desire of once more sweeping the
+latest conquerors out of existence.</p>
+
+<p>The fur company endeavored to keep friendly with all, and the Indians
+were well aware that much of their support must be drawn from them. The
+new governor was expected shortly, and Detroit was to be his home.</p>
+
+<p>The Sieur Angelot advised better fortifications and a larger garrison.
+Many points were examined and found weak. The general government had
+been appealed to, but the country was poor and could hardly believe, in
+the face of all the treaties, there could be danger.</p>
+
+<p>There was also the outcome of the fur trade to be discussed with the
+merchants, and new arrangements were being made, for the Sieur was to
+return before long.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_345" id="Page_345">[345]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Jeanne had spent a sorrowful time within her own soul, though she strove
+to be outwardly cheerful. June was upon them in all its glory and
+richness. Sunshine scattered golden rays and made a clarified atmosphere
+that dazzled. The river with rosy fogs in the morning, the quivering
+breath of noon when spirals of yellow light shot up, changing tints and
+pallors every moment, the softer purplish coloring as the sun began to
+drop behind the tree tops, illuminating the different shades of green
+and intensifying the birches until one could imagine them white-robed
+ghosts. The sails on the river, the rambles in the woods, were Jeanne's
+delight once more, and with so charming a companion as M. St. Armand,
+her cup seemed full of joy.</p>
+
+<p>At times the thought of her lonely mother haunted her. Yet what a dreary
+life it must be that had robbed her of every semblance of youth and set
+stern lines in her face, that had uprooted the sweetest human love! How
+could she have turned from the husband of her choice, and that husband
+so brave and tender a man as Sieur Angelot? For day by day it seemed to
+Jeanne that she found new graces and tenderness in him.</p>
+
+<p>Yet she knew she must pain him, too. Only for a brief while, perhaps.
+And&mdash;there was a curious hesitation about the new home.</p>
+
+<p>"Jeanne," he said one afternoon, when they, too, were lingering idly
+about the suburban part of the town, the gardens, the orchards, the long
+fields stretching back distantly, here and there a cottage, a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_346" id="Page_346">[346]</a></span> nest of
+bloom. There were the stolid farmers working in their old-fashioned
+methods, there was a sound of strokes in the dusky woods where some men
+were chopping that brought faint, reverberating echoes, there was the
+humming of bees, the laughter of children. Little naked Indian babies
+ran about, the sun making the copper of their skins burnished, squaws
+sat with bead work, young fellows were playing games with smooth stones
+or throwing at a mark. French women had brought their wheels out under
+the shade of some tree, and were making a pleasant whir with the
+spinning.</p>
+
+<p>"Jeanne," he began again, "it is time for me to go up North. And I must
+take you, my daughter&mdash;" looking at her with questioning eyes.</p>
+
+<p>She raised her hand as if to entreat. A soft color wavered over her
+face, and then she glanced up with a gentle gravity.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, my father, leave me here a little longer. I cannot go now;" and her
+voice was persuasively sweet.</p>
+
+<p>"Cannot&mdash;why?" There was insistence in his tone.</p>
+
+<p>"There is Pani&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"But we will take Pani. I would not think of leaving her behind."</p>
+
+<p>"She will not go. I have planned and talked. She is no longer strong. To
+tear her up by the roots would be cruel. And do you not see that all her
+life is wound about me? She has been the tenderest of mothers. I must
+give her back some of the care she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_347" id="Page_347">[347]</a></span> has bestowed upon me. She has never
+been quite the same since I was taken away. She came near to dying then.
+Yes, you must leave me awhile."</p>
+
+<p>"Jeanne, my little one, I cannot permit this sacrifice;" and the
+tenderness in his eyes smote her.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, you cannot imagine how I should pine for Detroit and for her. Then
+besides&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>A warm color flooded her face; her eyes drooped.</p>
+
+<p>"My darling, can you not trust yourself to my love?"</p>
+
+<p>"There is another to share your love. Oh, believe me, I am not jealous
+that one so beautiful and worthy should stand in the place my mother
+contemned. She has the right."</p>
+
+<p>"Child, you have wondered how I found the clew to your existence. I have
+meant to tell you but there have been so many things intervening. Do you
+remember one night she asked your name, after having heard your story?
+She had listened to the other side more than once, and, piecing them
+together, she guessed&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne recalled the sudden change from delight to coldness. Ah, was this
+the key?</p>
+
+<p>"The boys were full of enthusiasm over the strange guest, whose eyes
+were like their father's. No suspicion struck me. Blue eyes are not so
+unusual, though they all have dark ones. Neither was it so strange that
+one should be captured by the Indians and escape. But I saw presently
+that something weighed heavily on the heart that had always been open as
+the day. Now and then she seemed on the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_348" id="Page_348">[348]</a></span> point of some confession. I
+have large patience, Jeanne, and I waited, since I knew it had nothing
+to do with any lack of love towards me. And one night when her secret
+had pricked her sorely she told me her suspicions. My little child might
+be alive, might have escaped by some miracle; and she besought me with
+all eagerness to hasten to Detroit and find this Jeanne Angelot. She had
+been jealous and unhappy that there should be another claimant for my
+love, but then she was nobly sweet and generous and would give you a
+warm welcome. I sent her word by a boat going North, and now I have
+received another message. Women's hearts are strange things, child, but
+you need not be afraid to trust her, though the welcome will be more
+like that of a sister," and he smiled. "I am your rightful protector. I
+cannot leave you here alone."</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing would harm me," she made answer, proudly. "There are many
+friends. Detroit is dear to me. And for Pani's sake&mdash;oh, leave me here a
+little while longer. For I can see Pani grows weaker and day by day
+loses a little of her hold on life. Then there is Monsieur Loisel, who
+will guard me, and Monsieur Fleury and Madame, who are most kind. Yes,
+you will consent. After that I will come and be your most dutiful
+daughter. But, oh, think; I owe the Indian woman a child's service as
+well."</p>
+
+<p>Her lovely eyes turned full upon him with tenderest entreaty. He would
+be loth to reward any such devotion with ingratitude, and it would be
+that. Pani could not be taken from Detroit.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_349" id="Page_349">[349]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Jeanne, it wrings my heart to find you and then give you up even for a
+brief while. How can I?"</p>
+
+<p>"But you will," she said, and her arms were about his neck, her soft,
+warm cheek was pressed to his, and he could feel her heart beat against
+his. "It pains me, too, for see, I love you. I have a right to love you.
+I must make amends for the pang of the other defection. And you will
+tell <i>her</i>, yes. I think I ought to be sister to her. And there are the
+two charming boys and Angelique&mdash;she will let me love them. I will not
+take their love from her."</p>
+
+<p>He drew a long breath. "I know not how to consent, and yet I see that it
+would be the finest and loveliest duty. I honor you for desiring it. I
+must think and school myself," smiling sadly.</p>
+
+<p>He consulted M. St. Armand on the matter.</p>
+
+<p>"Give her into my guardianship for a while," that gentleman said. "It is
+noble in her to care for her foster mother to the last. I shall be in
+and out of Detroit, and the Fleurys will be most friendly. And look you,
+<i>mon cousin</i>, I have a proffer to make. I have a son, a young man whose
+career has been most honorable, who is worthy of any woman's love, and
+who so far has had no entanglements. If these two should meet again
+presently, and come to desire each other, nothing would give me greater
+happiness. He would be a son quite to your liking. Both would be of one
+faith. And to me, Jeanne would be the dearest of daughters."</p>
+
+<p>The Sieur Angelot wrung the hand of his relative.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_350" id="Page_350">[350]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"It must be as the young people wish. And I would like to have her a
+little while to myself."</p>
+
+<p>"That is right, too. I could wish she were my daughter, only then my son
+might miss a great joy."</p>
+
+<p>So the matter was settled. M. and Madame Fleury would have opened their
+house to Jeanne and her charge, but it was best for them to remain where
+they were. Wenonah came in often and Margot was always ready to do a
+service.</p>
+
+<p>One day Jeanne went down to the wharf to see the vessel depart for the
+North. It was a magnificent June morning, with the river almost like
+glass and a gentle wind from the south. She watched the tall figure on
+the deck, waving his hand until the proud outline mingled with others
+and was indistinct&mdash;or was it the tears in her eyes?</p>
+
+<p>M. St. Armand had some business in Quebec, but would remain only a short
+time.</p>
+
+<p>It seemed strangely solitary to Jeanne after that, although there was no
+lack of friends. Everybody was ready to serve her, and the young men
+bowed with the utmost respect when they met her. She took Pani out for
+short walks, the favorite one to the great oak tree where Jeanne had
+begun her life in Detroit. Children played about, brown Indian babies,
+grave-faced even in their play, vivacious French little ones calling to
+each other in shrill <i>patois</i>, laughing and tumbling and climbing. Had
+she once been wild and merry like them? Then Pani would babble of the
+past and stroke the soft curls and call her "little one." What a curious
+dream life was!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_351" id="Page_351">[351]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>They were busy with the governor's house and the military squares and
+the old fort. The streets were cleared up a little. Houses had been
+painted and whitewashed. Stores and shops spread out their attractions,
+booths were flying gay colors and showing tempting eatables. All along
+the river was the stir of active life. People stayed later in the
+streets these warm evenings and sat on stoops chatting. Young men and
+maids planned pleasures and sails on the river and went to bed gay and
+light-hearted. Was there any place quite like Old Detroit?</p>
+
+<p>Early one morning while the last stars were lingering in the sky and the
+east was suffused with a faint pink haze, a scarlet spire shot up that
+was not sunrise. No one remarked it at first. Then a broad flash that
+might have been lightning but was not, and a cry on the still air
+startled the sleepers. "Fire! Fire!"</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly all was terror. There had been no rain in some time, and the
+inflammable buildings caught like so much tinder. From the end of St.
+Anne's street up and down it ran, the dense smoke sometimes hiding the
+flames. Like the eruption of a great crater the smoke rose thick, black,
+with here and there a tongue of flame that was frightful. The streets
+were so narrow and crowded, the appliances for fighting the terrible
+enemy so limited, that men soon gave up in despair. On and on it went
+devouring all within its reach.</p>
+
+<p>Shop keepers emptied their stores, hurried their stocks down to the
+wharf, and filled the boats.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_352" id="Page_352">[352]</a></span> Furniture, century-old heirlooms, were
+tumbled frantically out of houses to some place of refuge as the fire
+swept on, carried farther and farther. Daylight and sunlight were alike
+obscured. Frantic people ran hither and thither, children were gathered
+in arms, and hurried without the palisades, which in many instances were
+burned away. And presently the inhabitants gave way to the wildest
+despair. It was a new and terrible experience. The whole town must go.</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne had been sleeping soundly, and in the first uproar listened like
+one dazed. Was it an Indian assault, such as her father had feared
+presently? Then the smoke rushed into every crack and crevice.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, what is it, what is it?" she cried, flinging her door open wide.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Mam'selle," cried Margot, "the street is all aflame. Run! run!
+Antoine has taken the children."</p>
+
+<p>Already the streets were crowded. St. Anne's was a wall of fire. One
+could hardly see, and the roar of the flames was terrific, drowning the
+cries and shrieks.</p>
+
+<p>"Come, quick!" Margot caught her arm.</p>
+
+<p>"Pani! Pani!" She darted back into the house. "Pani," she cried, pulling
+at her. "Oh, wake, wake! We must fly. The town is burning up."</p>
+
+<p>"Little one," said Pani, "nothing shall harm thee."</p>
+
+<p>"Come!" Jeanne pulled her out with her strong young arms, and tried to
+slip a gown over the shaking figure that opposed her efforts.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_353" id="Page_353">[353]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I will not go," she cried. "I know, you want to take me away from dear
+old Detroit. I heard something the Sieur Angelot said. O Jeanne, the
+good Father in Heaven sent you back once. Do not go again&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"The street is all on fire. Oh, Margot, help me, or we shall be burned
+to death. Pani, dear, we must fly."</p>
+
+<p>"Where is Jeanne Angelot," exclaimed a sturdy voice. "Jeanne, if you do
+not escape now&mdash;see, the flames have struck the house."</p>
+
+<p>It was the tall, strong form of Pierre De Ber, and he caught her in his
+arms.</p>
+
+<p>"No, no! O Pierre, take Pani. She is dazed. I can follow. Cover her with
+a blanket, so," and Jeanne, having struggled away, threw the blanket
+about the woman. Pierre caught her up. "Come, follow behind me. Do not
+let go. O Jeanne, you must be saved."</p>
+
+<p>Pani was too surprised for any resistance. She was not a heavy burthen,
+and he took her up easily.</p>
+
+<p>"Hold to my arm. There is such a crowd. And the smoke is stifling. O
+Jeanne! if you should come to harm!" and almost he was tempted to drop
+the Indian woman, but he knew Jeanne would not leave her.</p>
+
+<p>"I am here. O Pierre, how good you are!" and the praise was like a
+draught of wine to him.</p>
+
+<p>The flames flashed hither and thither though there was little wind. But
+the close houses fed it, and in many places there were inflammable
+stores. Now<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_354" id="Page_354">[354]</a></span> and then an explosion of powder shot up in the air. Where
+one fancied one's self out of danger the fire came racing on swift
+wings.</p>
+
+<p>"There will be only the river left," said some one.</p>
+
+<p>The crowd grew more dense. Pierre felt that he could hardly get to the
+gate. Then men with axes and hatchets hewed down the palisades, and, he
+being near, made a tremendous effort, and pushed his way outside. There
+was still crowd enough, but they soon came to a freer space, and he laid
+his burthen down, standing over her that no one might tread on her.</p>
+
+<p>"O Jeanne, are you safe? Thank heaven!"</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne caught his hand and pressed it in both of hers.</p>
+
+<p>"If we could get to Wenonah!" she said.</p>
+
+<p>He picked up his burthen again, but it was very limp.</p>
+
+<p>"Open the blanket a little. I was afraid to have her see the flames.
+Yes, let us go on," said Jeanne, courageously.</p>
+
+<p>Men and women were wringing their hands; children were screaming. The
+flames crackled and roared, but out here the way was a little clearer.
+They forced a path and were soon beyond the worst heat and smoke.</p>
+
+<p>Wenonah's lodge was deserted. Pierre laid the poor body down, and Jeanne
+bent over and kissed the strangely passive face.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, she is dead! My poor, dear Pani!"</p>
+
+<p>"I did my best," said Pierre, in a beseeching tone.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_355" id="Page_355">[355]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I know you did! Pierre, I should have gone crazy if I had left her
+there to be devoured by the flames. But I will try&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>She bathed the face, she chafed the limp hands, she called her by every
+endearing name. Ah, what would he not have given for one such sweet
+little sentence!</p>
+
+<p>"Pierre&mdash;your own people," she cried. "See how selfish I have been to
+take you&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"They were started before I came. Father was with them. They were going
+up to the square, perhaps to the Fort. Oh, the town will all go. The
+flames are everywhere. What an awful thing! Jeanne, what can I do? O
+Jeanne, little one, do not weep."</p>
+
+<p>For now Jeanne had given way to sobs.</p>
+
+<p>There was a rushing sound in the doorway, and Wenonah stood there.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh," she exclaimed, "I tried to get into the town, but could not. Thank
+the good God that you are safe. And Pani&mdash;no, she is not dead, her heart
+beats slowly. I will get her restored."</p>
+
+<p>"And I will go for further news," said Pierre.</p>
+
+<p>Very slowly Pani seemed to come back to life. The crowd was pouring out
+to the fields and farms, and down and up the river. The flames were not
+satisfied until they had devoured nearly everything, but they had not
+gone up to the Fort. And now a breeze of wind began to dissipate the
+smoke, and one could see that Old Detroit was a pile of ashes and ruins.
+Very little was left,&mdash;a few buildings, some big stone chimneys, and
+heaps of iron merchandise.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_356" id="Page_356">[356]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Pierre returned with the news. Pani was lying on the couch with her eyes
+partly open, breathing, but that was all.</p>
+
+<p>"People are half crazy, but I don't wonder at it," said Pierre. "The
+warehouses are piles of ashes. Poor father will have lost everything,
+but I am young and strong and can help him anew."</p>
+
+<p>"Thou art a good son, Pierre," exclaimed Wenonah.</p>
+
+<p>Many had been routed out without any breakfast, and now it was high
+noon. Children were clamoring for something to eat. The farmers spread
+food here and there on the grass and invited the hungry ones. Jacques
+Giradin, the chief baker in the town, had kneaded his bread and put it
+in the oven, then gone to help his neighbors. The bakery was one of the
+few buildings that had been miraculously spared. He drew out his
+bread&mdash;it had been well baked&mdash;and distributed it to the hungry, glad to
+have something in this hour of need.</p>
+
+<p>It was summer and warm, and the homeless dropped down on the grass, or
+in the military gardens, and passed a strange night. The next morning
+they saw how complete the destruction had been. Old Detroit, the dream
+of Cadillac and De Tonti, La Salle and Valliant, and many another hero,
+the town that had prospered and had known adversity, that had been
+beleaguered by Indian foes, that had planted the cross and the golden
+lilies of France, that had bowed to the conquering standard of England,
+and then again to the stars and stripes of Liberty, that had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_357" id="Page_357">[357]</a></span> brimmed
+over with romance and heroism, and even love, lay in ashes.</p>
+
+<p>In a few days clearing began and tents and shanties were erected for
+temporary use. But poverty stared the brave citizens in the face.
+Fortunes had been consumed as well. Business was ruined for a time.</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne remained with Wenonah. Pani improved, but she had been feeble a
+long while and the shock proved too much for her. She did not seem to
+suffer but faded gently away, satisfied when Jeanne was beside her.</p>
+
+<p>Tony Beeson, quite outside of the fire, opened his house in his rough
+but hospitable fashion to his wife's people. Rose had not fared so well.
+Pierre was his father's right hand through the troublous times. Many of
+the well-to-do people were glad to accept shelter anywhere. The Fleurys
+had saved some of their most valuable belongings, but the house had gone
+at last.</p>
+
+<p>"Thou art among the most fortunate ones," M. Loisel said to Jeanne a
+week afterward, "for thy portion was not vested here in Detroit. I am
+very glad."</p>
+
+<p>It seemed to Jeanne that she cared very little for anything save the
+sorrows and sufferings of the great throng of people. She watched by
+Pani through the day and slept beside her at night. "Little one," the
+feeble voice would say, "little one," and the clasp of the hand seemed
+enough. So it passed on until one day the breath came slower and
+fainter, and the lips moved without any sound. Jeanne bent over and
+kissed them for a last farewell. Father Rameau<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_358" id="Page_358">[358]</a></span> had given her the sacred
+rites of the Church, and said over her the burial service. A faithful
+woman she had been, honest and true.</p>
+
+<p>And this was what Monsieur St. Armand found when he returned to Detroit,
+a grave girl instead of the laughing child, and an old town in ashes.</p>
+
+<p>"I have news for you, too," he said to Jeanne, "partly sorrowful, partly
+consoling as well. Two days after reaching her convent home, your mother
+passed quietly away, and was found in the morning by one of the sisters.
+The poor, anxious soul is at peace. I cannot believe God means one to be
+so troubled when a sin is forgiven, especially one that has been a
+mistake. So, little one, if thou hadst listened to her pleadings thou
+wouldst have been left in a strange land with no dear friend. It is best
+this way. The poor Indian woman was nearer a mother to thee."</p>
+
+<p>A curious peace about this matter filled Jeanne Angelot's soul. Her
+mother was at rest. Perhaps now she knew it was not sinful to be happy.
+And for her father's sake it was better. He could not help but think of
+the poor, lonely woman in her convent cell, expiating what she
+considered a sin.</p>
+
+<p>"When Laurent comes we will go up to your beautiful island," he said. "I
+have bidden him to join me here."</p>
+
+<p>Jeanne took Monsieur around to the old haunts: the beautiful woods, the
+stream running over the rocky hillside, the flowers in bloom that had
+been so fateful to her, the nooks and groves, the green where they put
+up the Maypole, and her brave old oak,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_359" id="Page_359">[359]</a></span> with its great spreading
+branches and wide leaves, nodding a welcome always.</p>
+
+<p>One day they went down to the King's wharf to watch a vessel coming up
+the beautiful river. The sun made it a sea of molten gold to-day, the
+air was clear and exhilarating. But it was not a young fellow who leaped
+so joyously down on to the dock. A tall, handsome man, looking something
+like his own father, and something like hers, Jeanne thought, for his
+eyes were of such a deep blue.</p>
+
+<p>"There is no more Old Detroit. It lies in ashes," said M. St. Armand,
+when the first greetings were over. "A sorrowful sight, truly."</p>
+
+<p>"And no little girl." Laurent smiled with such a fascination that it
+brought the bright color to her face. "Mademoiselle, I have been
+thinking of you as the little girl whose advice I disdained and had a
+ducking for it. I did not look for a young lady. I do not wonder now
+that you have taken so much of my father's heart."</p>
+
+<p>"We can give you but poor accommodations; still it will not be for long,
+as we go up North to accept our cousin's hospitality. You will be
+delighted to meet the Sieur Angelot. The Fleury family will be glad to
+see you again, though they have no such luxuriant hospitality as
+before."</p>
+
+<p>They all went to the plain small shelter in which the Fleurys were
+thankful to be housed, and none the less glad to welcome their friends.
+They kept Jeanne to dinner, and would gladly have taken her as a guest.
+M. Loisel had offered her a home, but she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_360" id="Page_360">[360]</a></span> preferred staying with
+Wenonah. Paspah had never come back from his quest. Whether he had met
+with some accident, or simply found wild life too fascinating to leave,
+no one ever knew. To Wenonah it was not very heart-breaking.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, little one," she said at parting, "I shall miss thee sorely.
+Detroit will not be the same without thee."</p>
+
+<p>And then Jeanne Angelot went sailing up the beautiful lakes again, past
+shores in later summer bloom and beauty and islands that might be fairy
+haunts. They were enchanted bowers to her, but it was some time before
+she knew what had lent them such an exquisite charm.</p>
+
+<p>So she came home to her father's house and met with a warm welcome, a
+noisy welcome from two boys, who could not understand why she would not
+climb and jump, though she did run races with them, and they were always
+hanging to her.</p>
+
+<p>"And you turn red so queerly sometimes," said Gaston, much puzzled. "I
+can't tell which is the prettier, the red or the white. But the red
+seems for M. St. Armand."</p>
+
+<p>Loudac and the dame were overjoyed to see her again. The good dame shook
+her head knowingly.</p>
+
+<p>"The Sieur will not keep her long," she said.</p>
+
+<p>Old Detroit rose very slowly from its ashes. In August Governor Hull
+arrived and found no home awaiting him, but had to go some distance to a
+farm house for lodgings. He brought with him many eastern ideas. The old
+streets must be widened, the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_361" id="Page_361">[361]</a></span> lanes straightened, the houses made more
+substantial. There was a great outcry against the improvements. Old
+Detroit had been good enough. It was the center of trade, it commanded
+the highway of commerce. And no one had any money to spend on foolery.</p>
+
+<p>But he persevered until he obtained a grant from Congress, and set to
+work rectifying wrongs that had crept in, reorganizing the courts, and
+revising property deeds. The old Fort was repaired, the barracks put in
+better shape, the garrison augmented.</p>
+
+<p>But the event the Sieur Angelot had feared and foreseen, came to pass.
+Many difficulties had arisen between England and the United States, and
+at last culminated in war again. This time the northern border was the
+greatest sufferer on land. The Indians were aroused to new fury, the
+different tribes joining under Tecumseh, resolved to recover their
+hunting grounds. The many terrible battles have made a famous page in
+history. General Hull surrendered Detroit to the British, and once more
+the flag of England waved in proud triumph.</p>
+
+<p>But it was of short duration. The magnificent victories on the lakes and
+Generals Harrison's and Winchester's successes on land, again changed
+the fate of the North. Once more the stars and stripes went up over
+Detroit, to remain for all time to come.</p>
+
+<p>But after that it was a new Detroit,&mdash;wide streets and handsome
+buildings growing year by year, but not all the old landmarks
+obliterated; and their memories are cherished in many a history and
+romance.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_362" id="Page_362">[362]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Jeanne St. Armand, a happy young wife, with two fathers very fond of
+her, went back to Detroit after awhile. And sometimes she wondered if
+she had really been the little girl to whom all these things had
+happened.</p>
+
+<p>When Louis Marsac heard the White Chief had found his daughter and given
+her to Laurent St. Armand, he ground his teeth in impotent anger. But
+for the proud, fiery, handsome Indian wife of whom he felt secretly
+afraid, he might have gained the prize, he thought. She was
+extravagantly fond of him, and he prospered in many things, but he
+envied the Sieur Angelot his standing and his power, though he could
+never have attained either.</p>
+
+<p>Pierre De Ber was a good son and a great assistance to his father in
+recovering their fortunes. After awhile he married, largely to please
+his mother, but he made an excellent husband. He knew why Jeanne Angelot
+could never have been more than a friend to him. But of his children he
+loved little Jeanne the best, and Madame St. Armand was one of her
+godmothers, when she was christened in the beautiful new church of St.
+Anne, which had experienced almost as varying fortunes as the town
+itself.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 65%;' />
+
+<div class='tnote'><h3>Transcriber's Notes</h3>
+<p>Obvious punctuation errors were corrected.</p>
+
+<p>The remaining corrections made are indicated by dotted lines under the corrections.
+Scroll the mouse over the word and the original text will <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'apprear'">appear</ins>.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<hr class="full" />
+<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD DETROIT***</p>
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+</html>
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+The Project Gutenberg eBook, A Little Girl in Old Detroit, by Amanda
+Minnie Douglas
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+
+
+
+Title: A Little Girl in Old Detroit
+
+
+Author: Amanda Minnie Douglas
+
+
+
+Release Date: March 1, 2007  [eBook #20721]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD DETROIT***
+
+
+E-text prepared by Barbara Tozier, Bill Tozier, Emmy, and the Project
+Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net/c/)
+
+
+
+A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD DETROIT
+
+by
+
+AMANDA M. DOUGLAS
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+A. L. Burt Company
+Publishers New York
+
+Copyright, 1902,
+by Dodd, Mead & Company.
+
+First Edition Published September, 1902.
+
+
+
+
+TO
+
+MR. AND MRS. WALLACE R. LESSER
+
+
+
+Time and space may divide and years bring changes, but remembrance is
+both dawn and evening and holds in its clasp the whole day.
+
+A. M. D., NEWARK, N. J.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+    CHAPTER                                  PAGE
+
+        I. A HALF STORY,                        1
+
+       II. RAISING THE NEW FLAG,               16
+
+      III. ON THE RIVER,                       33
+
+       IV. JEANNE'S HERO,                      50
+
+        V. AN UNKNOWN QUANTITY,                65
+
+       VI. IN WHICH JEANNE BOWS HER HEAD,      82
+
+      VII. LOVERS AND LOVERS,                 102
+
+     VIII. A TOUCH OF FRIENDSHIP,             121
+
+       IX. CHRISTMAS AND A CONFESSION,        139
+
+        X. BLOOM OF THE MAY,                  157
+
+       XI. LOVE, LIKE THE ROSE, IS BRIERY,    176
+
+      XII. PIERRE,                            194
+
+     XIII. AN UNWELCOME LOVER,                209
+
+      XIV. A HIDDEN FOE,                      228
+
+       XV. A PRISONER,                        243
+
+      XVI. RESCUED,                           265
+
+     XVII. A PAEAN OF GLADNESS,                289
+
+    XVIII. A HEARTACHE FOR SOME ONE,          307
+
+      XIX. THE HEART OF LOVE,                 327
+
+       XX. THE LAST OF OLD DETROIT,           344
+
+
+
+
+
+A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD DETROIT.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+A HALF STORY.
+
+
+When La Motte Cadillac first sailed up the Strait of Detroit he kept his
+impressions for after travelers and historians, by transcribing them in
+his journal. It was not only the romantic side, but the usefulness of
+the position that appealed to him, commanding the trade from Canada to
+the Lakes, "and a door by which we can go in and out to trade with all
+our allies." The magnificent scenery charmed the intrepid explorer. The
+living crystal waters of the lakes, the shores green with almost
+tropical profusion, the natural orchards bending their branches with
+fruit, albeit in a wild state, the bloom, the riotous, clinging vines
+trailing about, the great forests dense and dark with kingly trees where
+birds broke the silence with songs and chatter, and game of all kinds
+found a home; the rivers, sparkling with fish and thronged with swans
+and wild fowl, and blooms of a thousand kinds, made marvelous pictures.
+The Indian had roamed undisturbed, and built his temporary wigwam in
+some opening, and on moving away left the place again to solitude.
+
+Beside its beauty was the prospect of its becoming a mart of commerce.
+But these old discoverers had much enthusiasm, if great ignorance of
+individual liberty for anyone except the chief rulers. There was a
+vigorous system of repression by both the King of France and the Church
+which hampered real advance. The brave men who fought Indians, who
+struggled against adverse fortunes, who explored the Mississippi valley
+and planted the nucleus of towns, died one after another. More than half
+a century later the English, holding the substantial theory of
+colonization, that a wider liberty was the true soil in which
+advancement progressed, after the conquest of Canada, opened the lake
+country to newcomers and abolished the restrictions the Jesuits and the
+king had laid upon religion.
+
+The old fort at Detroit, all the lake country being ceded, the French
+relinquishing the magnificent territory that had cost them so much in
+precious lives already, took on new life. True, the French protested,
+and many of them went to the West and made new settlements. The most
+primitive methods were still in vogue. Canoes and row boats were the
+methods of transportation for the fur trade; there had been no printing
+press in all New France; the people had followed the Indian expedients
+in most matters of household supplies. For years there were abortive
+plots and struggles to recover the country, affiliation with the Indians
+by both parties, the Pontiac war and numerous smaller skirmishes.
+
+And toward the end of the century began the greatest struggle for
+liberty America had yet seen. After the war of the Revolution was ended
+all the country south of the Lakes was ceded to the United Colonies.
+But for some years England seemed disposed to hold on to Detroit,
+disbelieving the colonies could ever establish a stable government. As
+the French had supposed they could reconquer, so the English looked
+forward to repossession. But Detroit was still largely a French town or
+settlement, for thus far it had been a military post of importance.
+
+So it might justly be called old this afternoon, as almost two centuries
+had elapsed since the French had built their huts and made a point for
+the fur trade, that Jeanne Angelot sat outside the palisade, leaning
+against the Pani woman who for years had been a slave, from where she
+did not know herself, except that she had been a child up in the fur
+country. Madame De Longueil had gone back to France with her family and
+left the Indian woman to shift for herself in freedom. And then had come
+a new charge.
+
+The morals of that day were not over-precise. But though the woman had
+had a husband and two sons, one boy had died in childhood, the other had
+been taken away by the husband who repudiated her. She was the more
+ready to mother this child dropped mysteriously into her lap one day by
+an Indian woman whose tongue she did not understand.
+
+"Tell it over again," said Jeanne with an air of authority, a dainty
+imperiousness.
+
+She was leaning against one knee, the woman's heels being drawn up close
+to her body, making a back to the seat of soft turf, and with her small
+hand thumping the woman's brown one against the other knee.
+
+"Mam'selle, you have heard it so many times you could tell it yourself
+in the dark."
+
+"But perhaps I could not tell it in the daylight," said the girl, with
+mischievous laughter that sent musical ripples on the sunny air.
+
+The woman looked amazed.
+
+"Why should you be better able to do it at night?"
+
+"O, you foolish Pani! Why, I might summon the _itabolays_--"
+
+"Hush! hush! Do not call upon such things."
+
+"And the _shil loups_, though they cannot talk. And the _windigoes_--"
+
+"Mam'selle!" The Indian woman made as if she would rise in anger and
+crossed herself.
+
+"O, Pani, tell the story. Why, it was night you always say. And so I
+ought to have some night-sight or knowledge. And you were feeling lonely
+and miserable, and--why, how do you know it was not a _windigo_?"
+
+"Child! child! you set one crazy! It was flesh and blood, a squaw with a
+blanket about her and a great bundle in her arms. And I did not go in
+the palisade that night. I had come to love Madame and the children, and
+it was hard to be shoved out homeless, and with no one to care. There is
+fondness in the Indian blood, Mam'selle."
+
+The Indian's voice grew forceful and held a certain dignity. The child
+patted her hand and pressed it up to her cheek with a caressing touch.
+
+"The De Bers wanted to buy me, but Madame said no. And Touchas, the
+Outawa woman, had bidden me to her wigwam. I heard the bell ring and the
+gates close, and I sat down under this very oak--"
+
+"Yes, this is _my_ tree!" interrupted the girl proudly.
+
+"I thought it some poor soul who had lost her brave, and she came close
+up to me, so close I heard the beads and shells on her leggings shake
+with soft sound. But I could not understand what she said. And when I
+would have risen she pushed me back with her knee and dropped something
+heavy in my lap. I screamed, for I knew not what manner of evil spirit
+it might be. But she pressed it down with her two hands, and the child
+woke and cried, and reaching up flung its arms around my neck, while the
+woman flitted swiftly away. And I tried to hush the sobbing little
+thing, who almost strangled me with her soft arms."
+
+"O Pani!" The girl sprang up and encircled her again.
+
+"I felt bewitched. I did not know what to do, but the poor, trembling
+little thing was alive, though I did not know whether you were human or
+not, for there are strange shapes that come in the night, and when once
+they fasten on you--"
+
+"They never let go," Jeanne laughed gayly. "And I shall never let go of
+you, Pani. If I had money I should buy you. Or if I were a man I would
+get the priest to marry us."
+
+"O Mam'selle, that is sinful! An old woman like me! And no one can be
+bought to-day."
+
+Jeanne gave her another hug. "And you sat here and held me--" forwarding
+the story.
+
+"I did not dare stir. It grew darker and all the air was sweet with
+falling dews and the river fragrance, and the leaves rustled together,
+the stars came out for there was no moon to check them. On the Beaufeit
+farm they were having a dance. Susanne Beaufeit had been married that
+noon in St. Anne. The sound of the fiddles came down like strange voices
+from out the woods and I was that frightened--"
+
+"Poor Pani!" caressing the hand tenderly.
+
+"Then you stopped sobbing but you had tight hold of my neck. Suddenly I
+gathered you up and ran with all my might to Touchas' hut. The curtain
+was up and the fire was burning, and I had grown stiff with cold and
+just stumbled on the floor, laying you down. Touchas was so amazed.
+
+"'Whose child is that?' she said. 'Why, your eyes are like moons. Have
+you seen some evil thing?'"
+
+"And you thought me an evil thing, Pani!" said the child reproachfully.
+
+"One never can tell. There are strange things," and the woman shook her
+head. "And Touchas was so queer she would not touch you at first. I
+unrolled the torn piece of blanket and there you were, a pretty little
+child with rings of shining black hair, and fair like French babies, but
+not white like the English. And there was no sign of Indian about you.
+But you slept and slept. Then we undressed you. There was a name pinned
+to your clothes, and a locket and chain about your neck and a tiny ring
+on one finger. And on your thigh were two letters, 'J. A.,' which meant
+Jeanne Angelot, Father Rameau said. And oh, Mam'selle, _petite fille_,
+you slept in my arms all night and in the morning you were as hungry as
+some wild thing. At first you cried a little for _maman_ and then you
+laughed with the children. For Touchas' boys were not grown-up men then,
+and White Fawn had not met her brave who took her up to St. Ignace."
+
+"I might have dropped from the clouds," said the child mirthfully. "The
+Great Manitou could have sent me to you."
+
+"But you talked French. Up in the above they will speak in Latin as the
+good fathers do. That is why they use it in their prayers."
+
+Jeanne nodded with a curl of disbelief in her red-rose mouth.
+
+"So then Touchas and I took you to Father Rameau and I told him the
+story. He has the clothes and the paper and the locket, which has two
+faces in it--we all thought they were your parents. The letters on it
+are all mixed up and no one can seem to make them out. And the ring. He
+thought some one would come to inquire. A party went out scouting, but
+they could find no trace of any encampment or any skirmish where there
+was likely to be some one killed, and they never found any trace. The
+English Commandant was here then and Madame was interested in you.
+Madame Bellestre would have you baptized in the old church to make sure,
+and because you were French she bade me bring you there and care for
+you. But she had to die and M. Bellestre had large interests in that
+wonderful Southern town, New Orleans, where it is said oranges and figs
+and strange things grow all the year round. Mademoiselle Bellestre was
+jealous, too, she did not like her father to make much of you. So he
+gave me the little house where we have lived ever since and twice he has
+sent by some traders to inquire about you, and it is he who sees that we
+want for nothing. Only you know the good priest advises that you should
+go in a retreat and become a sister."
+
+"But I never shall, never!" with emphasis, as she suddenly sprang up.
+"To be praying all day in some dark little hole and sleep on a hard bed
+and count beads, and wear that ugly black gown! No, I told Father Rameau
+if anyone shut me up I should shout and cry and howl like a panther! And
+I would bang my head against the stones until it split open and let out
+my life."
+
+"O Jeanne! Jeanne!" cried the horror-stricken woman. "That is wicked,
+and the good God hears you."
+
+The girl's cheeks were scarlet and her eyes flashed like points of
+flame. They were not black, but of the darkest blue, with strange,
+steely lights in them that flashed and sparkled when she was roused in
+temper, which was often.
+
+"I think I will be English, or else like these new colonists that are
+taking possession of everything. I like their religion. You don't have
+to go in a convent and pray continually and be shut out of all beautiful
+things!"
+
+"You are very naughty, Mam'selle. These English have spoiled so many
+people. There is but one God. And the good French fathers know what is
+right."
+
+"We did well enough before the French people came, Pani," said a soft,
+rather guttural voice from the handsome half-breed stretched out lazily
+on the other side of the tree where the western sunshine could fall on
+him.
+
+"You were not here," replied the woman, shortly. "And the French have
+been good to me. Their religion saves you from torment and teaches you
+to be brave. And it takes women to the happy grounds beyond the sky."
+
+"Ah, they learned much of their bravery from the Indian, who can suffer
+tortures without a groan or a line of pain in the face. Is there any
+better God than the great Manitou? Does he not speak in the thunder, in
+the roar of the mighty cataract, and is not his voice soft when he
+chants in the summer night wind? He gives a brave victory over his
+enemies, he makes the corn grow and fills the woods with game, the lakes
+with fish. He is good enough God for me."
+
+"Why then did he let the French take your lands?"
+
+The man rose up on his elbow.
+
+"Because we were cowards!" he cried fiercely. "Because the priests made
+us weak with their religion, made women of us, called us to their
+mumbling prayers instead of fighting our enemies! They and the English
+gave us their fire water to drink and stole away our senses! And now
+they are both going to be driven out by these pigs of Americans. It
+serves them right."
+
+"And what will _you_ do, Monsieur Marsac?" asked Pani with innocent
+irony.
+
+"Oh, I do not care for their grounds nor their fights. I shall go up
+north again for furs, and now the way is open for a wider trade and a
+man can make more money. I take thrift from my French father, you see.
+But some day my people will rise again, and this time it will not be a
+Pontiac war. We have some great chiefs left. We will not be crowded out
+of everything. You will see."
+
+Then he sprang up lithe and graceful. He was of medium size but so well
+proportioned that he might have been modeled from the old Greeks. His
+hair was black and straight but had a certain softness, and his skin was
+like fine bronze, while his features were clearly cut. Now and then some
+man of good birth had married an Indian woman by the rites of the
+Church, and this Hugh de Marsac had done. But of all their children only
+one remained, and now the elder De Marsac had a lucrative post at
+Michilimackinac, while his son went to and fro on business. Outside of
+the post in the country sections the mixed marriages were quite common,
+and the French made very good husbands.
+
+"Mam'selle Jeanne," he said with a low bow, "I admire your courage and
+taste. What one can see to adore in those stuffy old fathers puzzles me!
+As for praying in a cell, the whole wide heavens and earth that God has
+made lifts up one's soul to finer thoughts than mumbling over beads or
+worshiping a Christ on the cross. And you will be much too handsome, my
+brier rose, to shut yourself up in any Recollet house. There will be
+lovers suing for your pretty hand and your rosy lips."
+
+Jeanne hid her face on Pani's shoulder. The admiring look did not suit
+her just now though in a certain fashion this young fellow had been her
+playmate and devoted attendant.
+
+"Let us go back home," she exclaimed suddenly.
+
+"Why hurry, Mam'selle? Let us go down to King's wharf and see the boats
+come in."
+
+Her eyes lighted eagerly. She gave a hop on one foot and held out her
+hand to the woman, who rose slowly, then put the long, lean arm about
+the child's neck, who smiled up with a face of bloom to the wrinkled and
+withered one above her.
+
+Louis Marsac frowned a little. What ailed the child to-day? She was
+generally ready enough to demand his attentions.
+
+"Mam'selle, you brought your story to an abrupt termination. I thought
+you liked the accessories. The procession that marched up the aisle of
+St. Anne's, the shower of kisses bestowed upon you after possible evil
+had been exorcised by holy water; the being taken home in Madame
+Bellestre's carriage--"
+
+"If I wanted to hear it Pani could tell me. Walk behind, Louis, the path
+is narrow."
+
+"I will go ahead and clear the way," he returned with dignified sarcasm,
+suiting his pace to the action.
+
+"That is hardly polite, Monsieur."
+
+"Why yes. If there was any danger, I would be here to face it. I am the
+advance guard."
+
+"There never is any danger. And Pani is tall and strong. I am not
+afraid."
+
+"Perhaps you would rather I would not go? Though I believe you accepted
+my invitation heartily."
+
+Just then two half drunken men lurched into the path. Drunkenness was
+one of the vices of that early civilization. Marsac pushed them aside
+with such force that the nearer one toppling against the other, both
+went over.
+
+"Thank you, Monsieur; it was good to have you."
+
+Jeanne stretched herself up to her tallest and Marsac suddenly realized
+how she had grown, and that she was prettier than a year ago with some
+charm quite indescribable. If she were only a few years, older--
+
+"A man is sometimes useful," he returned dryly, glancing at her with a
+half laugh.
+
+After the English had possession of Detroit, partly from the spirit of
+the times, the push of the newcomers, and the many restrictions that
+were abolished, the Detroit river took on an aspect of business that
+amazed the inhabitants. Sailing vessels came up the river, merchantmen
+loaded with cargoes instead of the string of canoes. And here was one at
+the old King's wharf with busy hands, whites and Indians, running to and
+fro with bales and boxes, presenting a scene of activity not often
+witnessed. Others had come down to see it as well. Marsac found a little
+rise of ground occupied by some boys that he soon dispossessed and put
+the woman and child in their places, despite black looks and mutterings.
+
+What a beautiful sight it all was, Jeanne thought. Up the Strait, as the
+river was often called, to the crystal clear lake of St. Clair and the
+opposite shore of Canada, with clumps of dense woods that seemed
+guarding the place, and irregular openings that gave vistas of the far
+away prospect. What was all that great outside world like? After St.
+Clair river, Lake Huron and Michilimackinac? There were a great mission
+station and some nuns, and a large store place for the fur trade. And
+then--Hudson Bay somewhere clear to the end of the world, she thought.
+
+The men uttered a sort of caroling melody with their work. There were
+some strange faces she had never seen before, swarthy people with great
+gold hoops in their ears.
+
+"Are they Americans?" she asked, her idea of Americans being that they
+were a sort of conglomerate.
+
+"No--Spaniards, Portuguese, from the other side of the world. There are
+many strange peoples."
+
+Louis Marsac's knowledge was extremely limited, as education had not
+made much of an advance among ordinary people. But he was glad he knew
+this when he saw the look of awe that for an instant touched the rosy
+face.
+
+There were some English uniforms on the scene. For though the boundaries
+had been determined the English Commandant made various excuses, and
+demanded every point of confirmation. There had been an acrimonious
+debate on conditions and much vexatious delay, as if he was individually
+loath to surrender his authority. In fact the English, as the French had
+before them, cherished dreams of recovering the territory, which would
+be in all time to come an important center of trade. No one had dreamed
+of railroads then.
+
+The sun began to drop down behind the high hills with their
+timber-crowned tops. Pani turned.
+
+"We must go home," she said, and Jeanne made no objections. She was a
+little tired and confused with a strange sensation, as if she had
+suddenly grown, and the bounds were too small.
+
+Marsac made way for them, up the narrow, wretched street to the gateway.
+The streets were all narrow with no pretense at order. In some places
+were lanes where carriages could not pass each other. St. Louis street
+was better but irregularly built, with frame and hewn log houses. There
+was the old block house at either end, and the great, high palisades,
+and the citadel, which served for barracks' stores, and housed some of
+the troops. Here they passed St. Anne's street with its old church and
+the military garden at the upper end; houses of one and two stories with
+peaked thatched roofs, and a few of more imposing aspect. On the west of
+the citadel near St. Joseph's street they paused before a small cottage
+with a little garden at the side, which was Pani's delight. There were
+only two rooms, but it was quite fine with some of the Bellestre
+furnishings. At one end a big fireplace and a seat each side of it.
+Opposite, the sleeping chamber with one narrow bed and a high one,
+covered with Indian blankets. Beds and pillows of pine and fir needles
+were renewed often enough to keep the place curiously fragrant.
+
+"I will bid you good evening," exclaimed Marsac with a dignified bow.
+"Mam'selle, I hope you are not tired out. You look--"
+
+A saucy smile went over her face. "Do I look very strange?" pertly. "And
+I am not tired, but half starved. Good night, Monsieur."
+
+"Pani will soon remedy that."
+
+The bell was clanging out its six strokes. That was the old signal for
+the Indians and whoever lived outside the palisades to retire.
+
+He bowed again and walked up to the Fort and the Parade.
+
+"Angelot," he said to himself, knitting his brow. "Where have I heard
+the name away from Detroit? She will be a pretty girl and I must keep an
+eye on her."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+RAISING THE NEW FLAG.
+
+
+Old Detroit had seemed roomy enough when Monsieur Cadillac planted the
+lilies of France and flung out the royal standard. And the hardy men
+slept cheerfully on their beds of fir twigs with blankets drawn over
+them, and the sky for a canopy, until the stockade was built and the
+rude fort made a place of shelter. But before the women came it had been
+rendered habitable and more secure; streets were laid out, the chapel of
+St. Anne's built, and many houses put up inside the palisades. And there
+was gay, cheerful life, too, for French spirits and vivacity could not
+droop long in such exhilarating air.
+
+Canoes and row boats went up and down the river with merry crews. And in
+May there was a pole put in what was to be the military garden, and from
+it floated the white flag of France. On the green there was a great
+concourse and much merriment and dancing, and not a little love making.
+For if a soldier asked a pretty Indian maid in marriage, the Commandant
+winked at it, and she soon acquired French and danced with the gayest of
+them.
+
+Then there was a gala time when the furs came in and the sales were
+made, and the boats loaded and sent on to Montreal to be shipped across
+the sea; or the Dutch merchants came from the Mohawk valley or New
+Amsterdam to trade. The rollicking _coureurs des bois_, who came to be
+almost a race by themselves, added their jollity and often carried it
+too far, ending in fighting and arrests.
+
+But it was not all gayety. Up to this time there had been two terrible
+attacks on the fort, and many minor ones. Attempts had been made to burn
+it; sometimes the garrison almost starved in bad seasons. France, in all
+her seventy years of possession, never struck the secret of colonizing.
+The thrifty emigrant in want of a home where he could breathe a freer
+air than on his native soil was at once refused. The Jesuit rule was
+strict as to religion; the King of France would allow no laws but his
+own, and looked upon his colonies as sources of revenue if any could be
+squeezed out of them, sources of glory if not.
+
+The downfall of Canada had been a sad blow. The French colonist felt it
+more keenly than the people thousands of miles away, occupied with many
+other things. And the bitterest of all protests was made by the Jesuits
+and the Church. They had been fervent and heroic laborers, and many a
+life had been bravely sacrificed for the furtherance of the work among
+the Indians.
+
+True, there had not been a cordial sympathy between the Jesuits and the
+Recollets, but the latter had proved the greater favorites in Detroit.
+There was now the Recollet house near the church, where they were
+training young girls and teaching the catechism and the rules of the
+Church, as often orally as by book, as few could read. Here were some
+Indian girls from tribes that had been almost decimated in the savage
+wars, some of whom were bound out afterward as servants. There were
+slaves, mostly of the old Pawnee tribe, some very old, indeed; others
+had married, but their children were under the ban of their parents.
+
+With the coming of the English there was a wider liberty, a new
+atmosphere, and though the French protested bitterly and could not but
+believe the mother country would make some strenuous effort to recover
+the territory as they temporized with the Indians and held out vague
+hopes, yet, as the years passed on, they found themselves insensibly
+yielding to the sway, and compelled now and then to fight for their
+homes against a treacherous enemy. Mayor Gladwyn had been a hero to them
+in his bravery and perseverance.
+
+There came in a wealthier class of citizens to settle, and officials
+were not wanting in showy attire. Black silk breeches and hose, enormous
+shoe buckles, stiff stocks, velvet and satin coats and beaver hats were
+often seen. Ladies rejoiced in new importations, and in winter went
+decked in costly furs. Even the French damsels relaxed their plain
+attire and made pictures with their bright kerchiefs tied coquettishly
+over curling hair, and they often smiled back at the garrison soldiers
+or the troops on parade. The military gardens were improved and became
+places of resort on pleasant afternoons, and the two hundred houses
+inside the pickets increased a little, encroaching more and more on the
+narrow streets. The officers' houses were a little grander; some of the
+traders indulged in more show and their wives put on greater airs and
+finer gowns and gave parties. The Campeau house was venerable even then,
+built as it was on the site of Cadillac's headquarters and abounding in
+many strange legends, and there were rude pictures of the Canoe with
+Madame Cadillac, who had made the rough voyage with her ladies and come
+to a savage wilderness out of love for her husband; and the old, long,
+low Cass house that had sheltered so many in the Pontiac war, and the
+Governor's house on St. Anne's street, quite grand with its two stories
+and peaked roof, with the English colors always flying.
+
+Many of the houses were plastered over the rough hewn cedar lath, others
+were just of the smaller size trees split in two and the interstices
+filled in. Many were lined with birch bark, with borders of beautiful
+ash and silver birch. Chimneys were used now, great wide spaces at one
+end filled in with seats. In winter furs were hung about and often
+dropped over the windows at night, which were always closed with tight
+board shutters as soon as dusk set in, which gave the streets a gloomy
+aspect and in nowise assisted a prowling enemy. A great solid oaken
+door, divided in the middle with locks and bars that bristled with
+resistance, was at the front.
+
+But inside they were comfortable and full of cheer. Wooden benches and
+chairs, some of the former with an arm and a cushion of spruce twigs
+covered with a bear or wolf skin, though in the finer houses there were
+rush bottoms and curiously stained splints with much ornamental Indian
+work. A dresser in the living room displayed not only Queen's ware, but
+such silver and pewter as the early colonists possessed, and there were
+pictures curiously framed, ornaments of wampum and shells and fine bead
+work. The family usually gathered here, and the large table standing in
+the middle of the floor had a hospitable look heightened by the savory
+smells which at that day seemed to offend no one.
+
+The farms all lay without and stretched down the river and westward. The
+population outside had increased much faster, for there was room to
+grow. There were little settlements of French, others of half-breeds,
+and not a few Indian wigwams. The squaws loved to shelter themselves
+under the wing of the Fort and the whites. Business of all kinds had
+increased since the coming of the English.
+
+But now there had occurred another overturn. Detroit had been an
+important post during the Revolution, and though General Washington,
+Jefferson, and Clark had planned expeditions for its attack, it was, at
+the last, a bloodless capture, being included in the boundaries named in
+the Quebec Act. But the British counted on recapture, and the Indians
+were elated with false hopes until the splendid victories of General
+Wayne in northern Illinois against both Indians and English. By his
+eloquence and the announcement of the kindly intentions of the United
+States, the Chippewa nation made gifts of large tracts of land and
+relinquished all claims to Detroit and Mackinaw.
+
+The States had now two rather disaffected peoples. Many of the English
+prepared to return to Canada with the military companies. The French had
+grown accustomed to the rule and still believed in kings and state and
+various titles. But the majority of the poor scarcely cared, and would
+have grumbled at any rule.
+
+For weeks Detroit was in a ferment with the moving out. There were
+sorrowful farewells. Many a damsel missed the lover to whom she had
+pinned her faith, many an irregular marriage was abruptly terminated.
+The good Recollet fathers had tried to impress the sacredness of family
+ties upon their flock, but since the coming of the English, the liberty
+allowed every one, and the Protestant form of worship, there had grown a
+certain laxness even in the town.
+
+"It is going to be a great day!" declared Jeanne, as she sprang out of
+her little pallet. There were two beds in the room, a great, high-post
+carved bedstead of the Bellestre grandeur, and the cot Jacques Pallent,
+the carpenter, had made, which was four sawed posts, with a frame nailed
+to the top of them. It was placed in the corner, and so, out of sight,
+Pani felt that her charge was always safe. In the morning Jeanne
+generally turned a somersault that took her over to the edge of the big
+bed, from whence she slid down.
+
+The English had abolished slavery in name, but most of the Pani servants
+remained. They seldom had any other than their tribal name. Since the
+departure of the Bellestres Jeanne's guardian had taken on a new
+dignity. She was a tall, grave woman, and much respected by all. No one
+would have thought of interfering with her authority over the child.
+
+"Hear the cannon at the Fort and the bells. And everybody will be out!
+Pani, give me some breakfast and let me go."
+
+"Nay, nay, child. You cannot go alone in such a crowd as this will be.
+And I must set the house straight."
+
+"But Marie De Ber and Pierre are to go. We planned it last night. Pierre
+is a big, strong boy, and he can pick his way through a crowd with his
+elbows. His mother says he always punches holes through his sleeves."
+
+Jeanne laughed gayly. Pierre was a big, raw-boned fellow, a good guard
+anywhere.
+
+"Nay, child, I shall go, too. It will not be long. And here is a choice
+bit of bread browned over the coals that you like so much, and the corn
+mush of last night fried to a turn."
+
+"Let me run and see Marie a moment--"
+
+"With that head looking as if thou hadst tumbled among the burrs, or
+some hen had scratched it up for a nest! And eyes full of dew webs that
+are spun in the grass by the spirits of night."
+
+"Look, they are wide open!" She buried her face in a pail of water and
+splashed it around as a huge bird might, as she raised her beautiful
+laughing orbs, blue now as the midnight sky. And then she carelessly
+combed the tangled curls that fell about her like the spray of a
+waterfall.
+
+"Thou must have a coif like other French girls, Jeanne. Berthe Campeau
+puts up her hair."
+
+"Berthe goes to the Recollets and prays and counts beads, and will run
+no more or shout, and sings only dreary things that take the life and
+gayety out of you. She will go to Montreal, where her aunt is in a
+convent, and her mother cries about it. If I had a mother I would not
+want to make her cry. Pani, what do you suppose happened to my mother?
+Sometimes I think I can remember her a little."
+
+The face so gay and willful a moment before was suddenly touched with a
+sweet and tender gravity.
+
+"She is dead this long time, _petite_. Children may leave their mothers,
+but mothers never give up their children unless they are taken from
+them."
+
+"Pani, what if the Indian woman had stolen me?"
+
+"But she said you had no mother. Come, little one, and eat your
+breakfast."
+
+Jeanne was such a creature of moods and changes that she forgot her
+errand to Marie. She clasped her hands together and murmured her French
+blessing in a soft, reverent tone.
+
+Maize was a staple production in the new world, when the fields were not
+destroyed by marauding parties. There were windmills that ground it
+coarsely and both cakes and porridge were made of it. The Indian women
+cracked and pounded it in a stone mortar and boiled it with fish or
+venison. The French brought in many new ways of cooking.
+
+"Oh, hear the bells and the music from the Fort! Come, hurry, Pani, if
+you are going with us. Pani, are people slow when they get old?"
+
+"Much slower, little one."
+
+"Then I don't want to be old. I want to run and jump and climb and swim.
+Marie knits, she has so many brothers and sisters. But I like leggings
+better in the winter. And they sew at the Recollet house."
+
+"And thou must learn to sew, little one."
+
+"Wait until I am big and old and have to sit in the chimney corner.
+There are no little ones--sometimes I am glad, sometimes sorry, but if
+they are not here one does not have to work for them."
+
+She gave a bright laugh and was off like a flash. The Pani woman sighed.
+She wondered sometimes whether it would not have been better to give her
+up to the good father who took such an interest in her. But she was all
+the poor woman had to love. True she could be a servant in the house,
+but to have her wild, free darling bound down to rigid rules and made
+unhappy was more than she could stand. And had not Mr. Bellestre
+provided this home for them?
+
+The woman had hardly put away the dishes, which were almost as much of
+an idol to her as the child, when Jeanne came flying back.
+
+"Yes, hurry, hurry, Pani! They are all ready. And Madame De Ber said
+Marie should not go out on such a day unless you went too. She called me
+feather headed! As if I were an Indian chief with a great crown of
+feathers!"
+
+The child laughed gayly. It was as natural to her as singing to a bird.
+
+Pani gathered up a few last things and looked to see that the fire was
+put out.
+
+Already the streets were being crowded and presented a picturesque
+aspect. Inside the stockade the _chemin du ronde_ extended nearly around
+the town and this had been widened by the necessity of military
+operations. Soldiers were pouring out of the Citadel and the Fort but
+the colonial costume looked queer to eyes accustomed to the white
+trimmings of the French and the red of the British. The latter had made
+a grander show many a time, both in numbers and attire. There were the
+old French habitans, gay under every new dispensation, in tanned
+leathern small clothes, made mostly of deer skin, and blue blouses, blue
+cap, with a red feather, some disporting themselves in unwonted finery
+kept for holiday occasions; pretty laughing demoiselles with bright
+kerchiefs or a scarf of open, knitted lace-like stuff with beads that
+sparkled with every coquettish turn of the head; there were Indians with
+belted tomahawks and much ornamented garments, gorgets and collars of
+rudely beaten copper or silver if they could afford to barter furs for
+them, half-breed dandies who were gorgeous in scarlet and jewelry of all
+sorts, squaws wrapped in blankets, looking on wonderingly, and the new
+possessors of Detroit who were at home everywhere.
+
+The procession formed at the parade in front of the Fort. Some of the
+aristocracy of the place were out also, staid middle-aged men with
+powdered queues and velvet coats, elegant ladies in crimson silk
+petticoats and skirts drawn back, the train fastened up with a ribbon
+or chain which they carried on their arms as they minced along on their
+high heeled slippers, carrying enormous fans that were parasols as well,
+and wearing an immense bonnet, the fashion in France a dozen years
+before.
+
+"What is it all about?" asked one and another.
+
+"They are to put up a new flag."
+
+"For how long?" in derision. "The British will be back again in no
+time."
+
+"Are there any more conquerors to come? We turn our coats at every one's
+bidding it seems."
+
+The detachment was from General Wayne's command and great was the
+disappointment that the hero himself was not on hand to celebrate the
+occasion; but he had given orders that possession of the place should be
+signalized without him. Indeed, he did not reach Detroit until a month
+later.
+
+On July 11, 1796, the American flag was raised above Detroit, and many
+who had never seen it gazed stupidly at it, as its red and white stripes
+waved on the summer air, and its blue field and white stars shone
+proudly from the flag staff, blown about triumphantly on the radiant air
+shimmering with golden sunshine.
+
+Shouts went up like volleys. All the Michigan settlements were now a
+part of the United Colonies, that had so bravely won their freedom and
+were extending their borders over the cherished possessions of France
+and England.
+
+The post was formally delivered up to the governor of the territory.
+Another flag was raised on the Citadel, which was for the accommodation
+of the general and his suite at present and whoever was commandant. It
+was quite spacious, with an esplanade in front, now filled by soldiers.
+There were the almost deafening salutes and the blare of the band.
+
+"Why it looks like heaven at night!" cried Jeanne rapturously. "I shall
+be an American,--I like the stars better than the lilies of France, and
+the red cross is hateful. For stars _are_ of heaven, you know, you
+cannot make them grow on earth."
+
+A kindly, smiling, elderly man turned and caught sight of the eager,
+rosy face.
+
+"And which, I wonder, is the brave General Wayne?"
+
+"He is not here to-day unfortunately and cannot taste the sweets of his
+many victories. But he is well worth seeing, and quite as sorry not to
+be here as you are to miss him. But he is coming presently."
+
+"Then it is not the man who is making a speech?--and see what a
+beautiful horse he has!"
+
+"That is the governor, Major General St. Clair."
+
+"And General Wayne, is he an American?"
+
+The man gave an encouraging smile to the child's eager inquiry.
+
+"An American? yes. But look you, child. The only proper Americans would
+be the Indians."
+
+She frowned and looked puzzled.
+
+"A little way back we came from England and France and Holland and Spain
+and Italy. We are so diverse that it is a wonder we can be harmonized.
+Only there seems something in this grand air, these mighty forests,
+these immense lakes and rivers, that nurtures liberty and independence
+and breadth of thought and action. Who would have dreamed that clashing
+interests could have been united in that one aim, liberty, and that it
+could spread itself from the little nucleus, north, south, east, and
+west! The young generation will see a great country. And I suppose we
+will always be Americans."
+
+He turned to the young man beside him, who seemed amused at the
+enthusiasm that rang in his voice and shone in his eyes of light, clear
+blue as he had smiled down on the child who scarcely understood, but
+took in the general trend and was moved by the warmth and glow.
+
+"Monsieur, there are many countries beside England and France," she said
+thoughtfully.
+
+"O yes, a world full of them. Countries on the other side of the globe
+of which we know very little."
+
+"The other side?" Her eyes opened wide in surprise, and a little crease
+deepened in the sunny brow as she flung the curls aside. She wore no hat
+of any kind in summer.
+
+"Yes, it is a round world with seas and oceans and land on both sides.
+And it keeps going round."
+
+"But, Monsieur," as he made a motion with his hand to describe it, "why
+does not the water spill out and the ground slide off? What makes
+it--oh, how can it stick?" with a laugh of incredulity.
+
+"Because a wisdom greater than all of earth rules it. Are there no
+schools in Detroit?"
+
+"The English have some and there is the Recollet house and the sisters.
+But they make you sit still, and presently you go to Montreal or Quebec
+and are a nun, and wear a long, black gown, and have your head tied up.
+Why, I should smother and I could not hear! That is so you cannot hear
+wicked talk and the drunken songs, but I love the birds and the wind
+blowing and the trees rustling and the river rushing and beating up in a
+foam. And I am not afraid of the Indians nor the _shil loups_," but she
+lowered her tone a trifle.
+
+"Do not put too much trust in the Indians, Mam'selle. And there is the
+_loup garou_--"
+
+"But I have seen real wolves, Monsieur, and when they bring in the furs
+there are so many beautiful ones. Madame De Ber says there is no such
+thing as a _loup garou_, that a person cannot be a man and a wolf at the
+same time. When the wolves and the panthers and the bears howl at night
+one's blood runs chilly. But we are safe in the stockade."
+
+"There is much for thee to learn, little one," he said, after a pause.
+"There must be schools in the new country so that all shall not grow up
+in ignorance. Where is thy father?"
+
+Jeanne Angelot stared straight before her seeing nothing. Her father?
+The De Bers had a father, many children had, she remembered. And her
+mother was dead.
+
+The address ended and there was a thundering roll of drums, while
+cheers went up here and there. Cautious French habitans and traders
+thought it wiser to wait and see how long this standard of stripes and
+stars would wave over them. They were used to battles and conquering and
+defeated armies, and this peace they could hardly understand. The
+English were rather sullen over it. Was this stripling of newfound
+liberty to possess the very earth?
+
+The crowd surged about. Pani caught the arm of her young charge and drew
+her aside. She was alarmed at the steady scrutiny the young man had
+given her, though it was chiefly as to some strange specimen.
+
+"Thou art overbold, Jeanne, smiling up in a young man's face and
+puckering thy brows like some maid coquetting for a lover."
+
+"A young man!" Jeanne laughed heartily. "Why he had a snowy beard like a
+white bear in winter. Where were your eyes, Pani? And he told me such
+curious things. Is the world round, Pani? And there are lands and lands
+and strange people--"
+
+"It is a brave show," exclaimed Louis Marsac joining them. "I wonder how
+long it will last. There are to be some new treaties I hear about the
+fur trade. That man from the town called New York, a German or some such
+thing, gets more power every month. A messenger came this morning and I
+am to return to my father at once. Jeanne, I wish thou and Pani wert
+going to the upper lakes with me. If thou wert older--"
+
+She turned away suddenly. Marie De Ber had a group of older girls about
+her and she plunged into them, as if she might be spirited away.
+
+Monsieur St. Armand had looked after his little friend but missed her in
+the crowd, and a shade of disappointment deepened his blue eyes.
+
+"_Mon pere_," began the young man beside him, "evidently thou wert born
+for a missionary to the young. I dare say you discovered untold
+possibilities in that saucy child who knows well how to flirt her curls
+and arch her eyebrows. She amused me. Was that half-breed her brother, I
+wonder!"
+
+"She was not a half-breed, Laurent. There are curious things in this
+world, and something about her suggested--or puzzled. She has no Indian
+eyes, but the rarest dark blue I ever saw. And did Indian blood ever
+break out in curly hair?"
+
+"I only noticed her swarthy skin. And there is such a mixed-up crew in
+this town! Come, the grand show is about over and now we are all reborn
+Americans up to the shores of Lake Superior. But we will presently be
+due at the Montdesert House. Are we to have no more titles and French
+nobility be on a level with the plainest, just Sieur and Madame?" with a
+little curl of the lips. The elder smiled good naturedly, nay, even
+indulgently.
+
+"The demoiselles are more to thee than that splendid flag waving over a
+free country. Thou canst return--"
+
+"But the dinner?"
+
+"Ah, yes, then we will go together," he assented.
+
+"If we can pick our way through this crowd. What beggarly narrow
+streets. Faugh! One can hardly get his breath. Our wilds are to be
+preferred."
+
+By much turning in and out they reached the upper end of St. Louis
+street, which at that period was quite an elevation and overlooked the
+river.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+ON THE RIVER.
+
+
+The remainder of the day was devoted to gayety, and with the male
+population carousing in too many instances, though there were
+restrictions against selling intoxicants to the Indians inside the
+stockade. The Frenchman drank a little and slowly, and was merry and
+vivacious. Groups up on the Parade were dancing to the inspiriting
+music, or in another corner two or three fiddles played the merriest of
+tunes.
+
+Outside, and the larger part of the town was outside now, the farms
+stretched back with rude little houses not much more than cabins. There
+was not much call for solidity when a marauding band of Indians might
+put a torch to your house and lay it in ashes. But with the new peace
+was coming a greater feeling of security.
+
+There were little booths here and there where squaws were cooking
+sagamite and selling it in queer dishes made of gourds. There were the
+little maize cakes well-browned, piles of maple sugar and wild summer
+plums just ripening. The De Ber children, with Jeanne and Pani, took
+their dinner here and there out of doors with much merriment. It was
+here Marsac joined them again, his hands full of fruit, which he gave to
+the children.
+
+"Come over to the Strait," he exclaimed. "That is a sight worth seeing.
+Everything is out."
+
+"O yes," cried Jeanne, eagerly. "And, Louis, can you not get a boat or a
+canoe? Let us go out on the water. I'm tired of the heat and dust."
+
+They threaded their way up to Merchants' wharf, for at King's wharf the
+crowd was great. At the dock yard, where, under the English, some fine
+vessels had been built, a few were flying pennons of red and white, and
+some British ships that had not yet left flaunted their own colors. As
+for the river, that was simply alive with boats of every description;
+Indian rowers and canoers, with loads of happy people singing, shouting,
+laughing, or lovers, with heads close together, whispering soft
+endearments or promising betrothal.
+
+"Stay here while I see if I can get a boat," said Louis, darting off,
+disappearing in the crowd.
+
+They had been joined by another neighbor, Madame Ganeau and her daughter
+Delisse, and her daughter's lover, a gay young fellow.
+
+"He will have hard work," declared Jacques. "I tried. Not a canoe or a
+pirogue or a flat boat. I wish him the joy of success."
+
+"Then we will have to paddle ourselves," said Jeanne. "Or float, Marie.
+I can float beautifully when the tide is serene."
+
+"I would not dare it for a hundred golden louis d'or," interposed
+Delisse.
+
+"But Jeanne dares everything. Do you remember when she climbed the
+palisade? When one has a lover--" and Marie sighed a little.
+
+"One comes to her senses and is no longer a child," said Madame Ganeau
+with a touch of sharpness in her voice. "The saints alone know what will
+become of that wild thing. Marie, since your mother is so busy with her
+household, some one should look you up a lover. Thou art most fourteen
+if I remember rightly."
+
+"Yes, Madame."
+
+"Well, there is time to be sure. Delisse will be fifteen on her wedding
+day. That is plenty old enough. For you see the girl bows to her
+husband, which is as it should be. A girl well brought up should have no
+temper nor ways of her own and then she more easily drops into those of
+her husband, who is the head of the house."
+
+"I have a temper!" laughed Jeanne. "And I do not want any husband to
+rule over me as if I were a squaw."
+
+"He will rule thee in the end. And if thou triest him too far he may
+beat thee."
+
+"If he struck me I should--I should kill him," and Jeanne's eyes flashed
+fire.
+
+"Thou wilt have more sense, then. And if lovers are shy of thee thou
+wilt begin to long for them when thou art like a dried up autumn rose on
+its stem."
+
+Jeanne bridled and flung up her chin.
+
+Pierre took her soft hand in his rough one.
+
+"Do not mind," he said in a whisper; "I would never beat you even if you
+did not have dinner ready. And I will bring you lovely furs and whatever
+you want. My father is willing to send me up in the fur country next
+year."
+
+Jeanne laughed, then turned to sudden gravity and gave back the pressure
+of the hand in repentance.
+
+"You are so good to me, Pierre. But I do not want to marry in a long,
+long time, until I get tired of other things. And I want plenty of them
+and fun and liberty."
+
+"Yes, yes, you are full of fun," approvingly.
+
+Louis was coming up to them in a fine canoe and some Indian rowers. He
+waved his hand.
+
+"Good luck, you see! Step in. Now for a glorious sail. Is it up or
+down?"
+
+"Down," cried Jeanne hopping around on one foot, and still hanging to
+Pani.
+
+They were soon settled within. The river was like a stream of golden
+fire, each ripple with a kind of phosphorescent gleam as the foam
+slipped away. For the oars were beating it up in every direction. The
+air was tensely clear. There was Lake St. Clair spread out in the
+distance, touching a sky of golden blue, if such colors fuse. And the
+opposite shore with its wealth of trees and shrubs and beginnings of
+Sandwich and Windsor and Fort Malden; Au Cochon and Fighting island,
+Grosse island in the far distance, and Bois Blanc.
+
+"Sing," said the lover when they had gone down a little ways, for most
+of the crafts were given over to melody and laughter.
+
+He had a fine voice. Singing was the great delight of those days, and
+nothing was more beguiling than the songs of the voyageurs. Delisse
+joined and Marie's soft voice was like a lapping wave. Madame Ganeau
+talked low to Pani about the child.
+
+"It will not do for her to run wild much longer," she said with an air
+of authority. "She is growing so fast. Is there no one? Had not Father
+Rameau better write to M. Bellestre and see what his wishes are? And
+there is the Recollet house, though girls do not get much training for
+wives. Prayers and beads and penance are all well enough, some deserve
+them, but I take it girls were meant for wives, and those who can get no
+husbands or have lost them may be Saint Catherine's maids."
+
+"Yes," answered Pani with a quaking heart; "M. Bellestre would know."
+
+"A thousand pities Madame should die. But I think there is wild blood in
+the child. You should have kept the Indian woman and made her tell her
+story."
+
+"She disappeared so quickly, and Madame Bellestre was so good and kind.
+The orphan of _Le bon Dieu_, she called her. Yes, I will see the good
+father."
+
+"And I will have a talk with him when Delisse goes to confession."
+Madame Ganeau gave a soft, relieved sigh. "My duty is done, almost, to
+my children. They will be well married, which is a great comfort to a
+mother. And now I can devote myself to my grandchildren. Antoine has two
+fine boys and Jeanne a little daughter. It is a pleasant time of life
+with a woman. And Jean is prospering. We need not worry about our old
+age unless these Americans overturn everything."
+
+Pani was a good listener and Madame Ganeau loved to talk when there was
+no one to advance startling ideas or contradict her. Her life had been
+prosperous and she took the credit to herself. Jean Ganeau had been a
+good husband, tolerably sober, too, and thrifty.
+
+The two older girls chatted when they were not singing. It was seldom
+Marie had a holiday, and this was full of delight. Would she ever have a
+lover like Jacques Graumont, who would look at her with such adoring
+eyes and slyly snatch her hand when her mother was not looking?
+
+Jeanne was full of enjoyment and capers. Every bird that flashed in and
+out of the trees, the swans and wild geese that squawked in terror and
+scuttled into little nooks along the shore edge as the boats passed
+them, the fish leaping up now and then, brought forth exclamations of
+delight. She found a stick with which she beat up the water and once
+leaned out so far that Louis caught her by the arm and pulled her back.
+
+"Let go. You hurt me!" she exclaimed sharply.
+
+"You will be over."
+
+"As if I could not care for myself."
+
+"You are the spirit of the river. Are your mates down there? What if
+they summon you?"
+
+"Then why should I not go to them?" recklessly.
+
+"Because I will not let you."
+
+He looked steadily into her eyes. His were a little blurred and had an
+expression that did not please her. She turned away.
+
+"If I should go down and get the gold hidden under the sands--"
+
+"But a serpent guards it."
+
+"I am not afraid of a snake. I have killed more than one. And there are
+good spirits who will help you if you have the right charm."
+
+"But you do not need to go. Some one will work for you. Some one will
+get the gold and treasure. If you will wait--"
+
+"Well, I do not want the treasure. Pani and I have enough."
+
+She tossed her head, still looking away.
+
+"Do you know that I must go up to Micmac? I thought to stay all summer,
+but my father has sent."
+
+"And men have to obey their fathers as girls do their mothers;" in an
+idly indifferent tone.
+
+"It is best, Jeanne; I want to make a fortune."
+
+"I hope you will;" but there was a curl to her lip.
+
+"And I may come back next spring with the furs."
+
+She nodded indifferently.
+
+"My father has another secret, which may be worth a good deal."
+
+She made no answer but beat up the water again. There was nothing but
+pleasure in her mind.
+
+"Will you be glad to see me then? Will you miss me?"
+
+"Why--of course. But I think I do not like you as well as I used," she
+cried frankly.
+
+"Not like me as well?" He was amazed. "Why, Jeanne?"
+
+"You have grown so--so--" neither her thoughts nor her vocabulary were
+very extensive. "I do not think I like men until they are quite old and
+have beautiful white beards and voices that are like the water when it
+flows softly. Or the boys who can run and climb trees with you and laugh
+over everything. Men want so much--what shall I say?" puzzled to express
+herself.
+
+"Concession. Agreement," he subjoined; "that is right," with a decisive
+nod. "I hate it," with a vicious swish in the water.
+
+"But when your way is wrong--"
+
+"My way is for myself," with dignity.
+
+"But if you have a lover, Jeanne?"
+
+"I shall never have one. Madame Ganeau says so. I am going to keep a
+wild little girl with no one but Pani until--until I am a very old woman
+and get aches and pains and perhaps die of a fever."
+
+She was in a very willful mood and she was only a child. One or two
+years would make a difference. If his father made a great fortune, and
+after all no one knew where she came from--he could marry in very good
+families, girls in plenty had smiled on him during the past two months.
+
+Was it watching these lovers that had stirred his blood? Why should he
+care for this child?
+
+"Had we not better turn about?" said Jacques Graumont, glancing around.
+
+There were purple shadows on one side of the river and high up on the
+distant hills and a soft yellow pink sheen on the water instead of the
+blaze of gold. A clear, high atmosphere that outlined everything on the
+Canadian shore as if it half derided its proud neighbor's jubilee.
+
+Other boats were returning. Songs that were so gay an hour ago took on a
+certain pensiveness, akin to the purple and dun stealing over the river.
+It moved Jeanne Angelot strangely; it gave her a sense of exaltation, as
+if she could fly like a bird to some strange country where a mother
+loved her and was waiting for her.
+
+When Louis Marsac spoke next to her she could have struck him in
+childish wrath. She wanted no one but the fragrant loneliness and the
+voices of nature.
+
+"Don't talk to me!" she cried impatiently. "I want to think. I like what
+is in my own mind better."
+
+Then the anger went slowly out of her face and it settled in lovely
+lines. Her mouth was a scarlet blossom, and her hair clung mistlike
+about brow and throat, softened by the warmth.
+
+They came grating against the dock after having waited for their turn.
+Marsac caught her arm and let the others go before her, and she, still
+in a half dream, waited. Then he put his arm about her, turned her one
+side, and pressed a long, hot kiss on her lips. His breath was still
+tainted with the brandy he had been drinking earlier in the day.
+
+She was utterly amazed at the first moment. Then she doubled up her
+small hand and struck the mouth that had so profaned her.
+
+"Hah! knave," cried a voice beside her. "Let the child alone! And answer
+to me. What business had you with this canoe? Child, where are your
+friends?"
+
+"My business with it was that I hired and paid for it," cried Marsac,
+angrily, and the next instant he felt for his knife.
+
+"Paid for it?" repeated the other. "Then come and convict a man of
+falsehood. Put up your knife. Let us have fair play. I had hired the
+canoe in the morning and went up the river, and was to have it this
+afternoon, and he declared you took it without leave or license."
+
+"That is a lie!" declared Marsac, passionately.
+
+"Jeanne! Jeanne!" cried Pani in distress.
+
+The stranger lifted her out. Jeanne looked back at Marsac, and then at
+the young man.
+
+"You will not fight him?" she said to the stranger. Fights and brawls
+were no uncommon events.
+
+"We shall have nothing to fight about if the man has lied to us both.
+But I wouldn't care to be in _his_ skin. Come along, my man."
+
+"I am not your man," said Marsac, furiously angry.
+
+"Well--stranger, then. One can hardly say friend," in a dignified
+fashion that checked Marsac.
+
+Pani caught the child. Pierre was on the other side of her. "What was
+it?" he asked. How good his stolid, rugged face looked!
+
+"A quarrel about the boat. Run and see how they settle it, Pierre."
+
+"But you and Marie--and it is getting dark."
+
+"Run, run! We are not afraid." She stamped her foot and Pierre obeyed.
+
+Marie clung to her. People jostled them, but they made their way through
+the narrow, crowded street. The bells were ringing, more from long habit
+now. Soldiers in uniform were everywhere, some as guards, caring for the
+noisier ones. Madame De Ber was leaning over her half door, and gave a
+cry of joy.
+
+"Where hast thou been all day, and where is Pierre, my son?" she
+demanded.
+
+The three tried to explain at once. They had had a lovely day, and
+Madame Ganeau, with her daughter and promised son-in-law, were along in
+the sail down the river. And Pierre had gone to see the result of a
+dispute--
+
+"I sent him," cried Jeanne, frankly. "Oh, here he comes," as Pierre ran
+up breathless.
+
+"O my son, thou art safe--"
+
+"It was no quarrel of mine," said Pierre, "and if it had been I have two
+good fists and a foot that can kick. It was that Jogue who hired his
+boat twice over and pretended to forget. But he gave back the money. He
+had told a lie, however, for he said Marsac took the canoe without his
+knowledge, and then he declared he had been so mixed up--I think he was
+half drunk--that he could not remember. They were going to hand him over
+to the guard, but he begged so piteously they let him off. Then he and
+Louis Marsac took another drink."
+
+Jeanne suddenly snatched up her skirt and scrubbed her mouth vigorously.
+
+"It has been a tiresome day," exclaimed Pani, "and thou must have a
+mouthful of supper, little one, and go to bed."
+
+She put her arm over the child's shoulder, with a caress; and Jeanne
+pressed her rosy cheek on the hand.
+
+"I do not want any supper but I will go to bed at once," she replied in
+a weary tone.
+
+"It is said that at the eastward in the Colonies they keep just such a
+July day with flags and confusion and cannon firing and bells ringing.
+One such day in a lifetime is enough for me," declared Madame De Ber.
+
+They kept the Fourth of July ever afterward, but this was really their
+national birthday.
+
+Jeanne scrubbed her mouth again before she said her little prayer and in
+five minutes she was soundly asleep. But the man who had kissed her and
+who had been her childhood's friend staggered homeward after a
+roistering evening, never losing sight of the blow she had struck him.
+
+"The tiger cat!" he said with what force he could summon. "She shall pay
+for this, if it is ten years! In three or four years I will marry her
+and then I will train her to know who is master. She shall get down on
+her knees to me if she is handsome as a princess, if she were a queen's
+daughter."
+
+Laurent St. Armand went home to his father a good deal amused after all
+his disappointment and vexation, for he had been compelled to take an
+inferior canoe.
+
+"_Mon pere_," he said, as his father sat contentedly smoking, stretched
+out in a most comfortable fashion, "I have seen your little gossip of
+the morning, and I came near being in a quarrel with a son of the trader
+De Marsac, but we settled it amicably and I should have had a much
+better opinion of him, if he had not stopped to drink Jogue's vile
+brandy. He's a handsome fellow, too."
+
+"And is the little girl his sister?"
+
+"O no, not in anyway related." Then Laurent told the story, guessing at
+the kiss from the blow that had followed.
+
+"Good, I like that," declared St. Armand. "Whose child is it?"
+
+"That I do not know, but she lives up near the Citadel and her name is
+Jeanne Angelot. Shall I find her for you to-morrow?"
+
+"She is a brave little girl."
+
+"I do not like Marsac."
+
+"His mother was an Indian, the daughter of some chief, I believe. De
+Marsac is a shrewd fellow. He has great faith in the copper mines.
+Strange how much wealth lies hidden in the earth! But the quarrel?" with
+a gesture of interest.
+
+"Oh, it was nothing serious and came about Jogue's lying. I rated him
+well for it, but he had been drinking and there was not much
+satisfaction. Well, it has been a grand day and now we shall see who
+next rules the key to the Northwest. There is great agitation about the
+Mississippi river and the gulf at the South. It is a daring country,
+_mon pere_."
+
+The elder laughed with a softened approval.
+
+Louis Marsac did not come near St. Joseph street the next day. He slept
+till noon, when he woke with a humiliating sense of having quite lost
+his balance, for he seldom gave way to excesses. It was late in the
+afternoon when he visited the old haunts and threw himself under
+Jeanne's oak. Was she very angry? Pouf! a child's anger. What a sweet
+mouth she had! And she was none the worse for her spirit. But she was a
+tempestuous little thing when you ran counter to her ideas, or whims,
+rather.
+
+Since she had neither birth nor wealth, and was a mere child, there
+would be no lovers for several years, he could rest content with that
+assurance. And if he wanted her then--he gave an indifferent nod.
+
+Down at the Merchants' wharf, the following morning, he found the boats
+were to sail at once. He must make his adieus to several friends. Madame
+Ganeau must be congratulated on so fine a son-in-law, the De Bers must
+have an opportunity to wish him _bon voyage_.
+
+Pani sat out on the cedar plank that made the door-sill, and she was
+cutting deerskin fringe for next winter's leggings. "Jeanne," she
+called, "Louis has come to say good-by."
+
+Jeanne Angelot came out of the far room with a curious hesitation. Pani
+had been much worried for fear she was ill, but Jeanne said laughingly
+that she was only tired.
+
+"Why, you run all day like a deer and never complain," was the troubled
+comment.
+
+"Am I complaining, Pani?"
+
+"No, Mam'selle. But I never knew you to want to lie on the cot in the
+daytime."
+
+"But I often lie out under the oak with my head in your lap."
+
+"To be sure."
+
+"I'm not always running or climbing."
+
+"No, little one;" with smiling assent.
+
+The little one came forward now and leaned against Pani's shoulder.
+
+"When I shall come back I do not know--in a year or two. I wonder if you
+will learn to talk English? We shall all have to be good Americans. And
+now you must wish me _bon voyage_. What shall I bring you when I come?
+Beaver or otter, or white fox--"
+
+"Madame Reamaur hath a cape of beautiful silver fox, and when the wind
+blows through it there are curious dazzles on every tip."
+
+"Surely thou hast grand ideas, Jeanne Angelot."
+
+"I should not wear such a thing. I am only a little girl, and that is
+for great ladies. And Wenonah is making me a beautiful cape of feathers
+and quills, and the breast of wild ducks. She thinks Pani cured her
+little baby, and this is her offering. So I hardly want anything. But I
+wish thee good luck and prosperity, and a wife who will be meek and
+obedient, and study your pleasure in everything."
+
+"Thank you a thousand times." He held out his hand. Pani pressed it
+cordially, but Jeanne did not touch it.
+
+"The little termagant!" he said to himself. "She has not forgiven me.
+But girls forget. And in a year or two she will be longing for finery.
+Silver fox, forsooth! That would be a costly gift. Where does the child
+get her ideas? Not from her neighborhood nor the Indian women she
+consorts with. Nor even Madame Ganeau," with an abrupt laugh.
+
+Jeanne was rather quiet all that day and did not go outside the
+palisade. But afterward she was her own irrepressible self. She climbed
+the highest trees, she swung from one limb to another, she rode astride
+saplings, she could manage a canoe and swim like a fish, and was the
+admiration of the children in her vicinity, though all of the
+southwestern end of the settlement knew her. She could whistle a bird to
+her and chatter with the squirrels, who looked out of beady eyes as if
+amazed and delighted that a human being belonging to the race of the
+destroyer understood their language. She had beaten Jacques Filion for
+robbing birds' nests, and she was a whole year younger, if anyone really
+knew how old she was.
+
+"There will never be a brave good enough for you," said the woman
+Wenonah, who lived in a sort of wigwam outside the palisades and had
+learned many things from her white sisters that had rather unsettled her
+Indian faith in braves. She kept her house and little garden, made bead
+work and embroidery for the officers and official ladles, and cared for
+her little papooses with unwonted mother love. For Paspah spent most of
+his time stretched in the sunshine smoking his pipe, and often sold his
+game for a drink of rum. Several times he had been induced to go up
+north with the fur hunters, and Wenonah was happy and cheerful without
+him.
+
+"I do not want a brave," Jeanne would fling out laughingly. "I shall be
+brave enough for myself."
+
+"And thou art sensible, Red Rose!" nodding sagely. "There is no father
+to bargain thee away."
+
+"Well, if fathers do that, then I am satisfied to be without one,"
+returned the child gayly.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+JEANNE'S HERO.
+
+
+There were many changes to make in the new government. Under the English
+there had been considerable emigration of better class people and more
+personal liberty. It was no longer everything for a king whose rigorous
+command was that there should be no thought of self-government, that
+every plan and edict must come from a court thousands of miles away,
+that knew nothing of the country.
+
+The French peasants scattered around the posts still adored their
+priests, but they had grown more ambitious and thrifty. Amiable, merry,
+and contented they endured their privations cheerfully, built bark and
+log cottages, many of them surrounded by sharpened palisades. There were
+Indian wigwams as well, and the two nations affiliated quite readily.
+The French were largely agriculturists, though many inside the Fort
+traded carefully, but the English claimed much of this business
+afterward.
+
+Captain Porter was very busy restoring order. Wells had been filled with
+stones, windows broken, fortifications destroyed. Arthur St. Clair had
+been appointed Governor of the Territory, which was then a part of
+Illinois, but the headquarters were at Marietta. Little attention was
+paid to Detroit further than to recognize it as a center of trade, while
+emigrants were pouring into the promising sites a little farther below.
+
+M. St. Armand had much business on hand with the new government, and was
+a most welcome guest in the better class families. The pretty
+demoiselles made much of Laurent and there were dinners and dances and
+card playing and sails on the river during the magnificent moonlight
+nights. The young American officers were glad of a little rest from the
+rude alarms of war that had been theirs so long, although they relaxed
+no vigilance. The Indians were hardly to be trusted in spite of their
+protestations, their pipes of peace, and exchange of wampum.
+
+The vessel was coming gayly up the river flying the new flag. There was
+always a host of idle people and children about the wharf, and now they
+thronged to see this General Anthony Wayne, who had not only been
+victorious in battles, but had convinced Joseph Brant, Little Turtle,
+and Blue Jacket that they were mistaken in their hopes of a British
+re-conquest, and had gained by honorable treaty much of the country that
+had been claimed by the Indians. Each month the feeling was growing
+stronger that the United States was to be a positive and enduring power.
+
+General Wayne stepped from the boat to the pier amid cheers, waving of
+flags and handkerchiefs. The soldiers were formed in line to escort him.
+He looked tired and worn, but there was a certain spirit in his fine,
+courageous eyes that answered the glances showered upon him, although
+his cordial words could only reach the immediate circle.
+
+Jeanne caught a glimpse of him and stood wondering. Her ideas of heroes
+were vague and limited. She had seen the English dignitaries in their
+scarlet and gold lace, their swords and trappings, and this man looked
+plain beside them. Yet he or some power behind him had turned the
+British soldiers out of Detroit. What curious kind of strength was it
+that made men heroes? Something stirred within Jeanne that had never
+been there before,--it seemed to rise in her throat and almost strangle
+her, to heat her brain, and make her heart throb; her first sense of
+admiration for the finer power that was not brute strength,--and she
+could not understand it. No one about her could explain mental growth.
+
+Then another feeling of gladness rushed over her that made every pulse
+bound with delight.
+
+"O Pani," and she clutched the woman's coarse gown, "there is the man
+who talked to me the day they put up the flag--don't you remember? And
+see--he smiles, yes, he nods to me, to me!"
+
+She caught Pani's hand and gave it an exultant beat as if it had been a
+drum. It was near enough like parchment that had been beaten with many a
+drumstick. She was used to the child's vehemence.
+
+"I wish he were this great general! Pani, did you ever see a king?"
+
+"I have seen great chiefs in grand array. I saw Pontiac--"
+
+"Pouf!" with a gesture that made her seem taller. "Madame Ganeau's
+mother saw a king once--Louis somebody--and he sat in a great chariot
+and bowed to people, and was magnificent. That is such a grand word.
+And it is the way this man looks. Suppose a king came and spoke to
+you--why, you would be glad all your life."
+
+Pani's age and her phlegmatic Indian blood precluded much enthusiasm,
+but she smiled down in the eager face.
+
+The escort was moving on. The streets were too narrow to have any great
+throng of carriages, but General Wayne stepped into one. (The hospitable
+De Moirel House had been placed at his service until he could settle
+himself to his liking.) Madame Moirel and her two daughters, with
+Laurent St. Armand, were in the one that followed. Some of the officers
+and the chief citizens were on horseback.
+
+Then the crowd began to disperse in the slow, leisurely fashion of
+people who have little to do. Some men took to their boats. It did not
+need much to make a holiday then, and many were glad of the excuse. A
+throng of idlers followed in the _chemin du ronde_.
+
+Pani and her charge turned in the other direction. There was the thud of
+a horse, and Jeanne stepped half aside, then gave a gay, bright laugh as
+she shook the curls out of her eyes.
+
+"So you have not forgotten me?" said the attractive voice that would
+have almost won one against his will.
+
+"O no, M'sieu. I knew you in a moment. I could not forget you."
+
+"Thank you, _ma fille_." The simple adoration touched him. Her eyes
+were full of the subtle glow of delight.
+
+"You know what we spoke of that day, and now General Wayne has come. Did
+you see him?"
+
+"O yes, M'sieu. I looked sharp."
+
+"And were you pleased?" Something in her expression led him to think she
+was not quite satisfied, yet he smiled.
+
+"I think you are grander," she returned, simply.
+
+Then he laughed, but it was such a tender sound no one could be offended
+at it.
+
+"Monsieur," with a curious dignity, "did you ever see a king?"
+
+"Yes, my child, two of them. The English king, and the poor French king
+who was put to death, and the great Napoleon, the Emperor."
+
+"Were they very--I know one splendid word, M'sieu, _magnifique_, but I
+like best the way the English say it, magnificent. And were they--"
+
+"They were and are common looking men. Your Washington here is a peer to
+them. My child, kings are of human clay like other men; not as good or
+as noble as many another one."
+
+"I am sorry," she said, with quiet gravity, which betrayed her
+disappointment.
+
+"And you do not like General Wayne?"
+
+"O Monsieur, he has done great things for us. I hear them talk about
+him. Yes, you know I _must_ like him, that is--I do not understand about
+likes and all that, why your heart suddenly goes out to one person and
+shuts up to another when neither of them may have done anything for
+you. I have been thinking of so many things lately, since I saw you. And
+Pierre De Ber asked the good father, when he went to be catechised on
+Friday, if the world was really round. And Pere Rameau said it was not a
+matter of salvation and that it made no difference whether it was round
+or square. Pierre is sure it must be a big, flat plain. You know we can
+go out ever so far on the prairies and it is quite level."
+
+"You must go to school, little one. Knowledge will solve many doubts.
+There will be better schools and more of them. Where does your father
+live? I should like to see him. And who is this woman?" nodding to
+Jeanne's attendant.
+
+"That is Pani. She has always cared for me. I have no father, Monsieur,
+and we cannot be sure about my mother. I haven't minded but I think now
+I would like to have some parents, if they did not beat me and make me
+work."
+
+"Pani is an Indian?"
+
+"Yes. She was Monsieur Bellestre's servant. And one day, under a great
+oak outside the palisade, some one, an Indian squaw, dropped me in her
+lap. Pani could not understand her language, but she said in French,
+'Maman dead, dead.' And when M. Bellestre went away, far, far to the
+south on the great river, he had the little cottage fixed for Pani and
+me, and there we live."
+
+St Armand beckoned the woman, who had been making desperate signs of
+disapprobation to Jeanne.
+
+"Tell me the story of this little girl," he said authoritatively.
+
+"Monsieur, she is mine and M. Bellestre's. Even the priest has no right
+to take her away."
+
+"No one will take her away, my good woman. Do not fear." For Pani's face
+was pale with terror and her whole form trembled. "Did you know nothing
+about this woman who brought her to you?"
+
+Pani told the story with some hesitation. The Indian woman talked very
+fair French. To what tribe she had belonged, even the De Longueils had
+not known otherwise than that she had been sent to Detroit with some
+Pawnee prisoners.
+
+"It is very curious," he commented. "I must go to the Recollet house and
+see these articles. And now tell me where I can find you--for I am due
+at the banquet given for General Wayne."
+
+"It is in St. Joseph's street above the Citadel," said Jeanne. "Oh, will
+you come? And perhaps you will not mind if I ask you some questions
+about the things that puzzle me," and an eager light shone in her eyes.
+
+"Oh, not at all. Good day, little one. I shall see you soon," and he
+waved his hand.
+
+Jeanne gave a regretful smile. But then he would come. Oh, how proud he
+looked on his handsome horse! She felt as if something had gone out of
+the day, but the sun was shining.
+
+At the corner of old St. Louis street they paused. Here was M. De Ber's
+warehouse,--the close, unfragrant smell of left-over furs mingling with
+other smells and scenting the summer air. There was almost everything in
+it, for it had great depth though not a very wide frontage: hardware of
+many kinds, firearms, rough clothing such as the boatmen and laborers
+wore, blankets, moccasins, and bunches of feathers, that were once in
+great demand by the Indians and were still called upon for dances,
+though they were hardly war dances now, only held in commemoration.
+
+Pierre threw down the bundle he was shifting to the back of the place.
+
+"Have you seen Marie this morning, Jeanne?"
+
+There was a slow, indifferent shake of the head. The child's thoughts
+were elsewhere.
+
+"Then you do not know?" The words came quick and tumbled out of his
+throat, as it were. He was so glad to tell Jeanne his bit of news first,
+just as he had been glad to find the first flowers of spring for her, to
+bring her the first fruits of the orchard and the first ripe grapes. How
+many times he had scoured the woods for them!
+
+"What has happened?" The boy's eyes were shining and his face red to its
+utmost capacity, and Jeanne knew it was no harm.
+
+"Madame Ganeau came to tea last night. Delisse is to be married next
+month. They are to get the house ready for her to go into. It is just
+out of St. Anne's street, not far from the Recollet house. It will be
+Delisse's birthday. And Marie is to be one of the maids."
+
+"Oh, that will be fine," cried Jeanne eagerly. "I hope I can go."
+
+"Of course you will. I'll be sure of that," with an assumption of
+mannishness. "And a great boat load of finery comes in to Dupree's from
+Quebec. M. Ganeau has ordered many things. Oh, I wish I was old enough
+to be some one's lover!"
+
+"I must go and see Marie. And oh, Pierre, I have seen the great general
+who fought the Indians and the British so bravely."
+
+Pierre nodded. It made little difference to the lad who fought and who
+won so that they were kept safe inside of the stockade, and business was
+good, for then his father was better natured. On bad days Pierre often
+had a liberal dose of strap.
+
+"Come, Pani, let us go to Madame De Ber's."
+
+Marie was out on the doorstep tending the baby, who was teething and
+fretful. Madame was cooking some jam of sour plums and maple sugar that
+was a good appetizer in the winter. There was always a baby at the De
+Bers'.
+
+"And Delisse is to be married! Pierre told me."
+
+"Yes; I wanted to run up this morning, but Aurel has been so cross. And
+I am to be one of the maids. At first mother said that I had no frock,
+but Madame Ganeau said get her a new one and it will do for next summer.
+I have outgrown most of my clothes, so they will have to go to Rose. All
+the maids are to have pink sashes and shoulder knots and streamers. It
+will take a sight of ribbon. But it will be something for my courting
+time, and the May dance and Pentecost. O dear, if I had a lover!"
+
+"Thou foolish child!" declared her mother. "Girls are never satisfied to
+be girls. And the houseful of children that come afterward!"
+
+Marie thought of all the children she had nursed, not her own. Yet she
+kissed little Aurel with a fond heart.
+
+"And Delisse--" suggested Jeanne.
+
+"Oh, Delisse is to wear the wedding gown her sisters had. It is long and
+has a beautiful train, some soft, shiny stuff over white silk, and lace
+that was on her _grand'mere's_ gown in France, and satin slippers. They
+are a little tight, Delisse declares, and she will not dance in them,
+but they have beautiful buckles and great high heels. I should be afraid
+of tipping over. And then the housekeeping. All the maids go to drink
+tea the first Sunday, and turn their cups to see who gets the next
+lover."
+
+Jeanne gave a shrug of disdain.
+
+Marie bent over and whispered that she was sorry Louis Marsac had gone.
+He was so nice and amusing.
+
+"Is he going to wait for you, Jeanne? You know you can marry whom you
+like, you have no father. And Louis will be rich."
+
+"He will wait a long while then and tire of it. I do not like him any
+more." Her lips felt hot suddenly.
+
+"Marie, do not talk such nonsense to Jeanne. She is only a child like
+Rose, here. You girls get crack-brained about lovers."
+
+"Come," said Pani. "Let us get a pail and go after wild plums. These
+smell so good."
+
+"And, Pani, look if the grapes are not fit to preserve," said Madame De
+Ber. "I like the tart green taste, as well as the spice of the later
+ripeness."
+
+Jeanne assented. She was so glad Louis Marsac had gone. Why, when she
+had liked him so very much and been proud to order him about, and make
+him lift her over the creeks, should she experience such a great
+revulsion of feeling? Two long years! and when he returned--
+
+"I can take Pani and run away, for I shall be a big girl then," and she
+laughed over the plan.
+
+What a day it was! The woods were full of fragrant odors, though here
+and there great patches had been cut and burned so as to afford no
+harbor to the Indians. Fruits grew wild, nuts abounded, and oh, the
+flowers! Jeanne liked these days in the woods, but what was there that
+she did not like? The river was an equal pleasure. Pani filled her pail
+with plums, Jeanne her arms with flowers.
+
+The new house of Delisse Ganeau became a great source of interest. It
+had three rooms, which was considered quite grand for a young couple.
+Jacques Graumont had a bedstead, a table, and a dresser that had been
+his mother's, a pair of brass candlesticks and some dishes. Her mother
+looked over her own stores, but the thriftier kind of French people put
+away now and then some plenishing for their children. She was closely
+watched lest Delisse should fare better than the other girls. Sisters
+had sharp eyes.
+
+There was her confession to be made, and her instruction as to the
+duties of a wife, just as if she had not seen her mother's wifely life
+all her days!
+
+"I like the Indian way best," cried Jeanne in a spirit of half
+contrariness. "Your husband takes you to his wigwam and you cook his
+meal, and it is all done with, and no fuss. Half Detroit is running
+wild."
+
+"Oh, no," replied Pani, amused at the child's waywardness. "I dare say
+the soldiers know nothing about it. And your great general and the
+ladies who give dinners. After all it is just a few people. And, little
+one, the Church wants these things all right. Then the husbands cannot
+run away and leave the poor wives to sit and cry."
+
+"I wouldn't cry," said the child with determination in her voice, and a
+color flaming up in her face.
+
+Yet she had come very near crying over a man who was nothing to her. She
+was feeling hurt and neglected. One day out in her dainty canoe she had
+seen a pleasure party on the river and her hero was among them. There
+were ladies in beautiful garments and flying ribbons and laces. Oh, she
+could have told him among a thousand! And he sat there so grandly,
+smiling and talking. She went home with a throbbing heart and would eat
+no supper; crawled into her little bed and thrust her face down in the
+fragrant pillow, but her fist was doubled up as if she could strike some
+one. She would not let the tears steal through her lids but kept
+swallowing over a big lump in her throat.
+
+"Mam'selle," said the tailor's wife, who was their next door neighbor,
+"yesterday, no, it was the day before when you and Pani were out--you
+know you are out so much," and she sighed to think how busily she had to
+ply her needle to suit her severe taskmaster--"there came a gentleman
+down from the Fort who was dreadfully disappointed not to find you. He
+was grand looking, with a fine white beard, and his horse was all
+trapped off with shining brass. I can't recall his name but it had a
+Saint to it."
+
+"St. Armand?" with a rapid breath.
+
+"Yes, that was it. Mademoiselle, I did not know you had any such fine
+friends."
+
+Jeanne did not mind the carping tone.
+
+"Thank you. I must go and tell Pani," and she skipped away, knowing that
+Pani was not in the house, but she wanted to give vent to her joy.
+
+She danced about the old room and her words had a delight that was like
+music. "He has not forgotten me! he has not forgotten me!" was her glad
+song. The disappointment that she had missed him came afterward.
+
+For although Detroit was not very large at this time, one might have
+wandered about a good deal and not seen the one person it would have
+been a pleasure to meet. And Jeanne was much more at home outside the
+palisade. The business jostling and the soldiers gave her a slight sense
+of fear and the crowding was not to her taste. She liked the broad, free
+sweep outside. And whether she had inherited a peculiar pride and
+delicacy from the parents no one knew; certain it was she would put
+herself in no one's way. Others came to her, she felt then every one
+must.
+
+She could not have understood the many claims upon Monsieur St. Armand.
+There were days when he had to study his tablets to remember even a
+dinner engagement. He was called into council by General Wayne, he had
+to go over to the Canada side with some delicate negotiations about the
+upper part of the Territory, he was deeply interested in the opening and
+working of the copper mines, and in the American Fur Company, so it was
+hardly to be wondered at that he should forget about the little girl
+when there were so many important things.
+
+The wedding was not half so tiresome then. And oh, what glorious weather
+it was, just enough sharpness at night to bring out all the fragrant
+dewy smells! The far-off forests glowed like gardens of wonderful bloom
+when the sun touched them with his marvelous brilliancy. And the river
+would have been a study for an artist or a fairy pen.
+
+So one morning the bell of old St. Anne's rung out a cheerful peal. It
+had been rebuilt and enlarged once, but it had a quaintly venerable
+aspect. And up the aisle the troop of white clad maidens walked
+reverently and knelt before the high altar where the candles were
+burning and there was an odor of incense beside the spice of evergreens.
+
+The priest made a very sacred ceremony of the marriage. Jeanne listened
+in half affright. All their lives long, in sickness and health, in
+misfortune, they must never cease to love, never allow any wavering
+fancies, but go on to old age, to death itself.
+
+Delisse looked very happy when her veil was thrown back. And then they
+had a gala time. Friends came to see the new house and drink the bride's
+health and wish the husband good luck. And the five bridesmaids and
+their five attendants came to tea. There was much anxiety when the cups
+were turned, and blushes and giggles and exclamations, as an old Indian
+woman, who had a great reputation for foretelling, and would surely have
+been hung in the Salem witchcraft, looked them over with an air of
+mystery, and found the figure of a man with an outstretched hand, in the
+bottom of Marie De Ber's cup.
+
+"And she's the youngest. That isn't fair!" cried several of the girls,
+while Madelon Dace smiled serenely, for she knew when the next trappers
+came in her lover would be among them, and a speedy wedding follow.
+Marie had never walked from church with a young man.
+
+Then the dance in the evening! That was out of doors under the stars, in
+the court at the back of the house. The Loisel brothers came with their
+fiddles, and there was great merriment in a simple, delightful fashion,
+and several of the maids had honeyed words said to them that meant a
+good deal, and held out promises of the future. For though they took
+their religion seriously in the services of the Church, they were gay
+and light hearted, pleasure loving when the time of leisure came, or at
+festivals and marriages.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+AN UNKNOWN QUANTITY.
+
+
+"There was a pretty wedding to-day in St. Anne's," said Madelon Fleury,
+glancing up at Laurent St. Armand, with soft, dark eyes. "I looked for
+you. I should have asked you formally," laughing and showing her pearly
+teeth, "but we had hardly thought of going. It was a sudden thing. And
+the bridesmaids were quite a sight."
+
+"There is an old English proverb," began Madame Fleury--
+
+          "'Who changes her name and not the letter,
+           Marries for worse and not the better.'
+
+and both names begin alike."
+
+"But they are French," appended Lisa, brightly. "The prediction may have
+no effect."
+
+"It is to be hoped it will not," commented Monsieur Fleury. "Jacques
+Graumont is a nice, industrious young fellow, and not given to drink.
+Now there will be business enough, and he is handy and expert at boat
+building, while the Ganeaus are thrifty people. M. Ganeau does a good
+business in provisioning the traders when they go north. Did you wish
+the young couple success, Madelon?"
+
+The girl flushed. "I do not know her. We have met the mother
+occasionally. To tell the truth, I do not enjoy this mixing up of
+traders and workmen and--" she hesitated.
+
+"And quality," appended Lisa, with a mischievous glance at her sister.
+
+"We are likely to have more of it than less," said her father, gravely.
+"These Americans have some curious ideas. While they are proud enough to
+trace their ancestry back to French or English or even Italian rank,
+they taboo titles except such as are won by merit. And it must be
+confessed they have had many brave men among them, heroes animated by
+broader views than the first conquerors of the country."
+
+"Yes," exclaimed St. Armand, "France made a great mistake and has lost
+her splendid heritage. She insisted on continuing the old world policy
+of granting court favorites whatever they asked, without studying the
+conditions of the new world. Then England pinned her faith and plans to
+a military colonization that should emanate from a distant throne. It is
+true she gave a larger liberty, a religious liberty, and exploited the
+theory of homes instead of mere trading posts. The American has improved
+on all this. It is as if he said, 'I will conquer the new world by force
+of industry; there shall be equal rights to homes, to labor, to'--there
+is a curious and delightful sounding sentence in their Declaration,
+which is a sort of corner stone--'life, liberty, and pursuit of
+happiness.' One man's idea of happiness is quite different from
+another's, however;" smiling.
+
+"And there will be clashing. There is much to do, and time alone can
+tell whether they will work out the problem."
+
+"They seem to blend different peoples. There is the Puritan in the East,
+who is allowing his prejudices to soften; there are the Dutch, about the
+towns on the Hudson, the Friends in Pennsylvania, the proud old
+cavaliers in Virginia and Carolina."
+
+"And the Indians, who will ever hate them! The French settlements at the
+West, up and down the mighty river, who will never forget La Salle,
+Tonti, Cadillac, and the De Bienvilles. There's a big work yet to do."
+
+"I think they will do it," returned St. Armand, his eyes kindling. "With
+such men as your brave, conciliatory General Wayne, a path is opened for
+a more reasonable agreement."
+
+"You cannot trust the Indians. I think the French have understood them
+better, and made them more friendly. In many respects they are children,
+in others almost giants where they consider themselves wronged. And it
+is a nice question, how much rights they have in the soil."
+
+"It has been a question since the world began. Were not the children of
+Israel commanded to drive the Canaanites out of their own land? Did not
+the Romans carry conquests all over Europe? And the Spaniard here, who
+has been driven out for his cruelty and rapacity. The world question is
+a great tree at which many nations have a hack, and some of them get
+only the unripe fruit as the branches fall. But the fruit matures
+slowly, and some one will gather it in the end, that is certain."
+
+"But has not the Indian a right to his happiness, to his liberty?" said
+Laurent, rather mischievously. He had been chaffing with the girls, yet
+listening to the talk of the elders.
+
+"In Indian ethics might makes right as elsewhere. They murder and
+destroy each other; some tribes have been almost wiped out and sold for
+slaves, as these Pawnee people. Depend upon it they will never take
+kindly to civilization. A few have intermarried, and though there is
+much romance about Rolfe and his Indian princess, St. Castin and his,
+they are more apt to affiliate with the Indians in the next generation."
+
+"My young man who was so ready to fight was a half-breed, I heard," said
+Laurent. "His French father is quite an important fur trader, I learned.
+Yet the young fellow has been lounging round for the past three months,
+lying in the sun outside the stockade, flirting and making love alike to
+Indian and French maids, and haunting Jogue's place down on the river.
+Though, for that matter, it seems to be headquarters for fur traders. A
+handsome fellow, too. Why has he not the pride of the French?"
+
+"Such marriages are a disgrace to the nation," said Madame Fleury,
+severely.
+
+"And that recalls to my mind,--" St. Armand paused with a retrospective
+smile, thinking of the compliment his little friend had paid him,--"to
+inquire if you know anything about a child who lives not far from the
+lower citadel, in the care of an Indian woman. Her name is Jeanne
+Angelot."
+
+The girls glanced at each other with a little curl of the lip as St.
+Armand's eyes wandered around.
+
+"My father met her at the flag-raising and was charmed with her eyes and
+her ignorance," said Laurent, rather flippantly.
+
+"If I were going to become a citizen of Detroit I should interest myself
+in this subject of education. It is sinful to allow so many young people
+to grow up in ignorance," declared the elder St. Armand.
+
+"Most of our girls of the better class are sent to Montreal or Quebec,"
+exclaimed Madame Fleury. "The English have governesses. And there is the
+Recollet school; there may be places outside the stockade."
+
+Monsieur Fleury shook his head uncertainly. "Angelot, Angelot," he
+repeated. "I do not know the name."
+
+"Father Gilbert or Father Rameau might know. Are these Angelots
+Catholics?"
+
+"There is only one little girl."
+
+"Oh!" a light broke over Madame's face. "I think I can recall an event.
+Husband, you know the little child the Bellestres had?"
+
+"I do not remember," shaking his head.
+
+"It was found queerly. They had a slave who became its nurse. The
+Bellestres were Huguenots, but Madame had a leaning toward the Church
+and the child was baptized. Madame Bellestre, who was a lovely woman,
+deferred to her husband until she was dying, when Father Rameau was sent
+for and she acknowledged that she died in the holy faith. There was
+some talk about the child, but M. Bellestre claimed it and cares for it.
+Under the English reign, you know, the good fathers had not so much
+authority."
+
+"Where can I find this Father Rameau?"
+
+"At the house beside the church. It is headquarters for the priests who
+come and go. A delightful old man is the father, though I could wish at
+times he would exercise a little more authority and make a stand for our
+rights. I sometimes fear we shall be quite pushed to the wall."
+
+St. Armand had come of a long line of Huguenots more than one of whom
+had suffered for his faith. He was a liberal now, studying up religion
+from many points, but he was too gallant to discuss it with a lady and
+his hostess.
+
+The young people were getting restive. It was just the night for
+delightful canoeing on the river and it had been broached in the
+afternoon. Marie the maid, quite a superior woman, was often intrusted
+with this kind of companionship. Before they were ready to start a young
+neighbor came in who joined them.
+
+Monsieur Fleury invited his guest to an end porch shaded by a profusion
+of vines, notable among them the sweetbrier, that gave out a fragrant
+incense on the night air. Even here they could catch sounds of the music
+from the river parties, for the violin and a young French habitan were
+almost inseparable.
+
+"Nay," he replied, "though a quiet smoke tempts the self-indulgent side
+of my nature. But I want to see the priest. I am curiously interested
+in this child."
+
+"There were some whispers about her, Monsieur, that one does not mention
+before young people. One was that she had Indian blood in her veins,
+and--" here Madame Fleury lowered her voice almost to a whisper,--"and
+that Madame Bellestre, who was very much of the _haute noblesse_, should
+be so ready to take in a strange child, and that M. Bellestre should
+keep his sort of guardianship over her and provide for her. Some of the
+talk comes back to me. There have been many questionable things done we
+older people know."
+
+St. Armand gave an assenting nod. Then he asked himself what there was
+about the child that should interest one so much, recalling her pretty
+eager compliment that he resembled a king, or her vague idea of one.
+
+His dinner dress set him off to a fine advantage. It was much in the old
+French fashion--the long waistcoat of flowered satin and velvet with its
+jeweled buttons; the ruffled shirt front, the high stock, the lace cuffs
+about the hand, the silken small clothes and stockings. And when he was
+dressed in furs with fringed deerskin leggings and a beaver cap above
+the waving brown hair, with his snowy beard and pink cheeks, and his
+blue eyes, he was a goodly picture as well.
+
+The priest's house was easily found. The streets were full of people in
+the early evening, for in this pleasant weather it was much more
+refreshing out of door than in. The smells of furs and skins lingered
+in the atmosphere, and a few days of good strong wind was a godsend. The
+doorways were full, women caressing their babies and chanting low
+lullabies; while elsewhere a pretty young girl hung over the lower half
+of the door and laughed with an admirer while her mother sat drowsing
+just within.
+
+A tidy old woman, in coif and white apron over her black gown, bowed her
+head as she answered his question. The good father was in. Would the
+stranger walk this way?
+
+Pere Rameau was crossing the hall. In the dim light, a stone basin
+holding oil after the fashion of a Greek lamp, the wick floating on top,
+the priest glanced up at his visitor. Both had passed each other in the
+street and hardly needed an introduction.
+
+"I hope I have not disturbed you in any way," began M. St. Armand in an
+attractive tone that gained a listener at once. "I have come to talk
+over a matter that has a curious interest for me, and I am told you have
+the key, if not to the mystery exactly, to some of the links. I hope you
+will not consider me intrusive."
+
+"I shall be glad to give you any information that is possible. I am not
+a politician, Monsieur, and have been trained not to speak evil of those
+appointed to rule over us."
+
+He was a tall, spare man with a face that even in the wrinkles and
+thinness of age, and perhaps a little asceticism, was sweet and calm,
+and the brown eyes were soft, entreating. Clean shaven, the chin showed
+narrow, but the mouth redeemed it. He wore the black cassock of the
+Recollets, the waist girded by a cord from which was suspended a cross
+and a book of devotions.
+
+"Then if it is a serious talk, come hither. There may be a little smoke
+in the air--"
+
+"I am a smoker myself," said St. Armand cordially.
+
+"Then you may not object to a pipe. I have some most excellent tobacco.
+I bethink me sometimes that it is not a habit of self-sacrifice, but the
+fragrance is delightful and it soothes the nerves."
+
+The room was rather long, and somewhat narrow. At the far end there was
+a small altar and a _prie dieu_. A candle was burning and its light
+defined the ivory crucifix above. In the corner a curtained something
+that might be a confessional. Indeed, not a few startling confessions
+had been breathed there. An escritoire with some shelves above,
+curiously carved, that bespoke its journey across the sea, took a great
+wall space and seemed almost to divide the room. The window in the front
+end was quite wide, and the shutters were thrown open for air, though a
+coarse curtain fell in straight folds from the top. Here was a
+commodious desk accommodating papers and books, a small table with pipes
+and tobacco, two wooden chairs and a more comfortable one which the
+priest proffered to the guest.
+
+"Shall we have a light? Marcel, bring a candle."
+
+"Nay," protested the visitor, "I enjoy this dimness. One seems more
+inclined to talk, though I think I have heard a most excellent reason
+educed for such a course;" and a mirthful twinkle shone in his eyes.
+
+The priest laughed softly. "It is hardly applicable here. I sat
+thinking. The sun has been so brilliant for days that the night brings
+comfort. You are a stranger here, Monsieur?"
+
+"Yes, though it is not my first visit to Detroit. I have gone from New
+York to Michilimackinac several times, to Montreal, Quebec, to France
+and back, though I was born there. I am the guest of Monsieur Fleury."
+
+The priest made an approving inclination of the head.
+
+"One sees many strange things. You have a conglomerate, Pere Rameau. And
+now a new--shall I say ruler?"
+
+"That is the word, Monsieur. And I hope it may last as long as the
+English reign. We cannot pray for the success of La Belle France any
+more."
+
+"France has her own hard battles to fight. Yet it makes one a little sad
+to think of the splendid heritage that has slipped from her hands, for
+which her own discoverers and priests gave up their lives. Still, she
+has been proved unworthy of her great trust. I, as a Frenchman, say it
+with sorrow."
+
+"You are a churchman, Monsieur?"
+
+"A Christian, I hope. For several generations we have been on the other
+side. But I am not unmindful of good works or good lives."
+
+Pere Rameau bowed his head.
+
+"What I wished to talk about was a little girl," St. Armand began,
+after a pause. "Jeanne Angelot, I have heard her called."
+
+"Ah, Monsieur, you know something about her, then?" returned the priest,
+eagerly.
+
+"No, I wish I did. I have crossed her path a time or two, though I can't
+tell just why she interests me. She is bright, vivacious, but curiously
+ignorant. Why does she live with this Indian woman and run wild?"
+
+"I cannot tell any further than it seems M. Bellestre's strange whim.
+All I know of the child is Pani's story. The De Longueils went to France
+and the Bellestres took their house. Pani had been given her freedom,
+but remained with the new owners. She was a very useful woman, but
+subject to curious spells of longing for her olden friends. Sometimes
+she would disappear for days, spending the time among the Indian squaws
+outside the stockade. She was there one evening when this child was
+dropped in her lap by a young Indian woman. Touchas, the woman she was
+staying with, corroborates the story. The child was two years or more
+old, and talked French; cried at first for her 'maman.' Madame Bellestre
+insisted that Pani should bring the child to her. She had lost a little
+one by death about the same age. She supposed at first that some one
+would claim it, but no one ever did. Then she brought the child to me
+and had it christened by the name on the card, Jeanne Angelot. Madame
+had a longing for the ministrations of the Church, but her husband was
+opposed. In her last illness he consented. He loved her very dearly. I
+think he was afraid of the influence of a priest, but he need not have
+been. She gave me all the things belonging to the child, and I promised
+to yield them up to the one who claimed her, or Jeanne herself when she
+was eighteen, or on her wedding day when she was married. Her husband
+promised to provide for the child as long as she needed it. He was very
+fond of her, too."
+
+"And was there no suspicion?" St. Armand hesitated.
+
+The pale face betrayed a little warmth and the slim fingers clasped each
+other.
+
+"I understand, Monsieur. There was and I told him of it. With his hand
+on God's word he declared that he knew no more about her than Pani's
+story, and that he had loved his wife too well for his thoughts ever to
+stray elsewhere. He was an honest, upright man and I believe him. He
+planned at first to take the child to New Orleans, but Mademoiselle, who
+was about fourteen, objected strenuously. She _was_ jealous of her
+father's love for the child. M. Bellestre was a large, fair man with
+auburn hair and hazel eyes, generous, kindly, good-tempered. The child
+is dark, and has a passionate nature, beats her playmates if they offend
+her, though it is generally through some cruel thing they have done. She
+has noble qualities but there never has been any training. Yet every one
+has a good word for her and a warm side. I do not think the child would
+tell a lie or take what did not belong to her. She would give all she
+had sooner."
+
+"You interest me greatly. But would it not be wiser for her to have a
+better home and different training? Does M. Bellestre consent to have
+her grow up in ignorance?"
+
+"I have proposed she and Pani should come to the Recollet house. We have
+classes, you know, and there are orphan children. Several times we have
+coaxed her in, but it was disastrous. She set our classes in an uproar.
+The sister put her in a room by herself and she jumped out of the window
+and threatened to run away to the woods if she were sent again. M.
+Bellestre thinks to come to Detroit sometime, when it will be settled no
+doubt. His daughter is married now. He may take Jeanne back with him."
+
+"That would be a blessing. But she has an eager mind and now we are
+learning that a broader education is necessary. It seems a pity--"
+
+"Monsieur, there are only two lines that seem important for a woman. One
+is the training to make her a good wife and mother, and in new countries
+this is much needed. It is simplicity and not worldly arrogance,
+obedience and not caviling; first as a daughter, then as a wife. To
+guide the house, prepare the meals, teach her children the holy truths
+of the Church, and this is all God will require of her. The other is to
+devote her whole life to God's work, but not every one has this gift.
+And she who bears children obeys God's mandate and will have her
+reward."
+
+"Whether the world is round or square," thought the Sieur St. Armand,
+but he was too courteous even to smile. Jeanne Angelot would need a
+wider life than this, and, if unduly narrowed, would spring over the
+traces.
+
+"You think M. Bellestre means to come?"
+
+"He has put it off to next year now. There is so much unrest and
+uncertainty all over the country, that at present he cannot leave his
+business."
+
+St. Armand sighed softly, thinking of Jeanne.
+
+"Would you show the clothes and the trinkets?"
+
+"O yes, Monsieur, to a person like you, but not to the idly curious.
+Indeed, for that matter, they have been mostly forgotten. So many things
+have happened to distract attention."
+
+He rose and went to the old escritoire. Unlocking a drawer he took out a
+parcel folded in a piece of cloth.
+
+"The clothes she wore," he said, "even to the little shoes of deerskin.
+There is nothing special about them to denote that she was the child of
+a rich person."
+
+That was very true, St. Armand saw, except that the little stockings
+were fine and bore the mark of imported goods. He mused over them.
+
+The priest opened a small, oblong box that still had the scent of snuff
+about it. On it was the name of Bellestre. So that was no clew.
+
+"Here is the necklet and the little ring and the paper with her name.
+Madame Bellestre placed these in my hand some time before she died."
+
+The chain was slender and of gold, the locket small; inside two painted
+miniatures but very diminutive, and both of them young. One would hardly
+be able to identify a middle aged person from them. There was no mark or
+initials, save an undecipherable monogram.
+
+"It is a pity there are no more chances of identification," St. Armand
+said. "This and the stockings come from France. And if the poor mother
+was dead--"
+
+"There are so many orphans, Monsieur. Kind people take them in. I know
+of some who have been restored to their families. It is my dream to
+gather them in one home and train them to useful lives. It may come if
+we have peace for a while."
+
+"She has a trusty guardian in you."
+
+"If I could decide her fate, Monsieur. Truly she is a child of the
+Church, but she is wild and would revolt at any abridgment of her
+liberty. We may win her by other means. Pani is a Christian woman though
+with many traits of Indian character, some of the best of them,"
+smiling. "It cannot be that the good Father above will allow any of his
+examples to be of none effect. Pani watches over her closely and loves
+her with untiring devotion. She firmly upholds M. Bellestre's right and
+believes he will return. The money to support them is sent to M. Loisel,
+the notary, and he is not a churchman. It is a pity so many of out brave
+old fathers should die for the faith and the children not be gathered in
+one fold. In Father Bonaventure's time it was not so, but the English
+had not come."
+
+The good priest sighed and began folding up the articles.
+
+"Father Gilbert believes in a stricter rule. But most of the people have
+years of habit that they put in the place of faith. Yet they are a good,
+kindly people, and they need some pleasures to compensate for their hard
+lives. They are gay and light-hearted as you have no doubt seen, but
+many of them are tinctured with Indian superstitions as well. Then for a
+month, when the fur traders come in, there is much drinking and
+disorder. There have been many deep-rooted prejudices. My nation cannot
+forgive the English for numberless wrongs. We could always have been
+friends with the Indians when they understood that we meant to deal
+fairly by them. And we were to blame for supplying them with fire water,
+justly so called. The fathers saw this and fought against it a century
+ago. Even the Sieur Cadillac tried to restrict them, though he did not
+approve the Jesuits. Monsieur, as you may have seen, the Frenchman
+drinks a little with the social tendency of his race, the Indian for the
+sake of wild expansion. He is a grand hero to himself, then, ready for a
+war dance, for fighting, cruelty, rapine, and revenge. I hope the new
+nation will understand better how to deal with them. They are the true
+children of the forest and the wilderness. I suppose in time they would
+even destroy each other."
+
+St. Armand admitted to himself that it was hard to push them farther to
+the cold, inhospitable north, which would soon be the only hunting
+ground left them unless the unknown West opened a future resource.
+
+"They are a strange race. Yet there have been many fierce peoples on our
+earth that have proved themselves amenable to civilization."
+
+"Let us hope for better times and a more lasting peace. Prejudices die
+out in a few generations." Then he rose. "I thank you sincerely for your
+kindness, father, and hope you will be prospered in your good work, and
+in the oversight of the child."
+
+"You are not to remain--"
+
+St. Armand smiled. "I have much business on my hands. There are many
+treaty points to define and settle. I go to Washington; I may go to
+France. But I wish you all prosperity under the new government."
+
+The priest bowed.
+
+"And you will do your best for the child?"
+
+"Whatever I am allowed to do, Monsieur."
+
+There was still much soreness about religious matters. The English
+laxity had led to too much liberty, to doubting, even.
+
+They bade each other a cordial adieu, with hopes of meeting again.
+
+"Strange there should be so many interested in the child," St. Armand
+mused. "And she goes her own way serenely."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+IN WHICH JEANNE BOWS HER HEAD.
+
+
+General Anthony Wayne was a busy man for the next few weeks, though he
+was full of tireless activity to his finger tips. There was much to be
+done in the town that was old already and had seen three different
+regimes. English people were packing their worldly goods and starting
+for Canada. Some of the French were going to the farther western
+settlements. Barracks were overhauled, the palisades strengthened, the
+Fort put in a better state of defense. For there were threats that the
+English might return. There were roving bands of Indians to the north
+and west, ready to be roused to an attack by disaffected French or
+English.
+
+But the industrious inhabitants plied their vocations unmindful of
+change of rulers. Boat loads of emigrants came in. Stores of all kinds
+were dumped upon the wharf. The red painted windmills flew like great
+birds in the air, though some of the habitans kept to their little home
+hand mill, whose two revolving stones needed a great expenditure of
+strength and ground but coarsely. You saw women spinning in doorways
+that they might nod to passers-by or chat with a neighbor who had time
+to spare.
+
+The children played about largely on the outside of the palisade. There
+were waving fields of maize that farmers had watched with fear and
+trembling and now surveyed with pride. Other grains were being
+cultivated. Estates were staked out, new log houses were erected, some
+much more pretentious ones with great stone chimneys.
+
+Yet people found time for pleasure. There were canoe loads of merry
+girls going down or up the river, adroitly keeping out of the way of the
+larger craft and sending laughing replies to the chaff of the boatmen.
+And the evenings were mostly devoted to pleasure, with much music and
+singing. For it was not all work then.
+
+Jeanne roamed at her own wayward will, oftenest within the inclosure
+with Pani by the hand. The repairs going on interested her. The new
+soldiers in their Continental blue and buff, most of it soiled and worn,
+presented quite a contrast to the red and gold of the English to which
+their eyes had become so accustomed. Now and then some one spoke
+respectfully to her; there was much outward deference paid to women even
+if the men were some of them tyrants within.
+
+And Jeanne asked questions in her own fearless fashion. She had picked
+up some English and by dint of both languages could make herself
+understood.
+
+"Well?" exclaimed a young lieutenant who had been overseeing some work
+and cleaning up at the barracks, turning a smiling and amused face
+towards her, "well, Mademoiselle, how do you like us--your new
+masters?"
+
+"Are you going to be masters here for long? Are you sure the English
+will not come back?"
+
+She raised her head proudly and her eyes flashed.
+
+"It looks as if we might stay," he answered.
+
+"You will not be everybody's master. You will not be mine."
+
+"Why, no. What I meant was the government. Individuals you know have
+always a certain liberty."
+
+She wondered a little what individuals were. Ah, if one could know a
+good deal! Something was stirring within her and it gave her a sort of
+pain, perplexing her as well.
+
+What a bright curious face it was with the big eyes that looked out so
+straightforwardly!
+
+"You are French, Mam'selle, or--"
+
+"Am I like an Indian?"
+
+She stood up straight and seemed two or three inches taller. He turned a
+sudden scarlet as he studied the mop of black curling hair, the long
+lashes, through which her eyes glittered, the brown skin that was sun
+kissed rather than of a copper tint, the shapely figure, and small hands
+that looked as if they might grasp and hold on.
+
+"No, Mam'selle, I think you are not." Then he looked at Pani. "You live
+here?"
+
+"Oh, not far away. Pani is my--oh, I do not know what you call
+it--guard, nurse, but I am a big girl now and do not need a nurse.
+Monsieur, I think I am French. But I dropped from the clouds one evening
+and I can't remember the land before that."
+
+The soldier stared, but not impertinently.
+
+"Mam'selle, I hope you will like us, since we have come to stay."
+
+"Ah, do not feel too sure. The French drove out the Indians, the English
+conquered the French, and they went away--many of them. And you have
+driven out the English. Where will the next people come from?"
+
+"The next people?" in surprise.
+
+"The people to drive you out." She laughed softly.
+
+"We will not be driven out."
+
+"Are you as strong as that?"
+
+"Mam'selle, we have conquered the English from Maine to the Carolinas,
+and to the Mississippi river. We shall do all the rest sometime."
+
+"I think I shall be an American. I like people who are strong and can
+never be beaten."
+
+"Of course you will have to be an American. And you must learn to speak
+English well."
+
+"Monsieur," with much dignity, "if you are so grand why do you not have
+a language of your own?"
+
+"Because"--he was about to say--"we were English in the beginning," but
+the sharp, satirical curves lurking around her mouth checked him. What
+an odd, piquant creature she was!
+
+"Come away," and Pani pulled her hand. "You talk too much to people and
+make M'sieu idle."
+
+"O Pani!" She gave an exultant cry and sprang away, then stopped short.
+For it was not only her friend, but a number of gentlemen in military
+attire and mounted on horses with gay trappings.
+
+Monsieur St. Armand waved his hand to her. She shrank back and caught
+Pani's gown.
+
+"It is General Wayne," said the lieutenant, and paid him something more
+than the demands of superior rank, for admiration was in his eyes and
+Jeanne noticed it.
+
+"My little friend," said St. Armand, leaning down toward Jeanne, "I am
+glad to see you again." He turned a trifle. The general and his aids
+were on a tour of inspection, and now the brave soldier leaped from the
+saddle, giving the child a glance.
+
+"I have been coming to find you," began Monsieur. "I have many things to
+say to your attendant. Especially as in a few days I go away."
+
+"O Monsieur, is it because you do not like--" her eyes followed the
+general's suite.
+
+"It is because I like them so well. I go to their capital on some
+business, and then to France. But I shall return in a year, perhaps. A
+year is not very long."
+
+"Just a winter and a summer. There are many of them to life?"
+
+"To some lives, yes. I hope there will be to yours, happy ones."
+
+"I am always happy when I can run about or sail on the river. There are
+so many delightful things when no one bothers you."
+
+"And the bothers are, I suppose, when some one considers your way not
+the best for you. We all meet with such things in life."
+
+"My own way is the best," she replied, willfully, a daring light
+shining in her eyes. "Do I not know what gives me the most pleasure? If
+I want to go out and sing with the birds or run mad races with the dogs,
+or play with the children outside, that is the thing which gives me joy
+and makes my blood rush warm and bright in my veins. Monsieur, I told
+you I did not like to be shut up."
+
+"Well, well. Remain in your little cottage this afternoon, and let me
+come and talk to you. I think I will not make you unhappy."
+
+"Your voice is so sweet, Monsieur, but if you say disagreeable things,
+if you want me to learn to sew and to read--and to spin--the De Bers
+have just had a spinning wheel come. It is a queer thing and hums
+strangely. And Marie will learn to spin, her mother says. Then she will
+never be able to go in the woods for wild grapes and nuts. No, I cannot
+spend my time being so busy. And I do not care for stockings. Leggings
+are best for winter. And Touchas makes me moccasins."
+
+Her feet and ankles were bare now. Dainty and shapely they were, and
+would have done for models.
+
+"Monsieur, the soft grass and the warm sand is so pleasant to one's
+feet. I am glad I am not a grand lady to wear clumsy shoes. Why, I could
+not run."
+
+St. Armand laughed. He had never seen such a free, wild, human thing
+rejoicing exultantly in its liberty. It seemed almost a shame to capture
+her--like caging a bird. But she could not always be a child.
+
+General Wayne had made his round and given some orders, and now he
+reappeared.
+
+"I want to present you to this little girl of Detroit," began M. St.
+Armand, "so that in years to come, when she hears of all your exploits,
+she will be proud that she had the honor. Jeanne Angelot is the small
+maid's name. And this is our brave General Wayne, who has persuaded the
+Indians to peace and amity, and taught the English to keep their word.
+But he can fight as well as talk."
+
+"Monsieur, when they gave you welcome, I did not think you looked grand
+enough for a great general. But when I come near by I see you are brave
+and strong and determined. I honor you, Monsieur. I am glad you are to
+rule Detroit."
+
+"Thank you, my little maid. I hope Detroit will become a great city, and
+that you may live many years in it, and be very happy."
+
+She made a courtesy with free, exquisite grace. General Wayne leaped
+into his saddle and waved his hand.
+
+"What an odd and charming child," he remarked to St. Armand. "No woman
+of society could have been more graceful and less abashed, and few would
+own up change of opinion with such naive sweetness. Of course she is a
+child of the people?"
+
+"I am interested in learning who she really is;" and St. Armand repeated
+what he knew of her story.
+
+"Her mother may have been killed by the Indians. There will be many a
+sad romance linked in with our early history, Sieur St. Armand."
+
+As for Jeanne Angelot, many a time in after years she recalled her
+meeting with the brave general, and no one dreamed then that his
+brilliant career was to end so soon. Until November he held the post,
+repairing fortifications, promulgating new laws, redressing abuses,
+soothing the disaffected and, as far as he could, studying the best
+interests of the town. In November he started for the East, but at
+Presque Isle was seized with a fatal malady which ended his useful and
+energetic career, and proved a great loss to the country.
+
+Monsieur St. Armand was late in keeping his word. There had been many
+things pressing on his attention and consideration. Jeanne had been very
+restless. A hundred desires flew to her mind like birds on the wing.
+Never had there seemed so many charms outside of the walls. She ran down
+to see Marie at the new spinning wheel. Madame De Ber had not used one
+in a long time and was a little awkward.
+
+"When I have Marie well trained I think I will take thee in hand," she
+said, rather severely. "Thou wilt soon be a big girl and then a maiden
+who should be laying by some garments and blankets and household gear.
+And thou canst not even knit."
+
+"But why should I? There are no brothers and sisters, and Wenonah is
+glad to make garments for me. Though I think M. Bellestre's money pays
+for them. And Touchas sends such nice fur things."
+
+"I should be ashamed to have other people work while I climbed trees and
+ran about with Indian children. Though it is half suspected they are
+kin to thee. But the French part should rule."
+
+Jeanne threw up her head with a proud gesture.
+
+"I should not mind. I often feel that they must be. They like liberty,
+so do I. We are like birds and wild deer."
+
+Then the child ran back before any reply could be made. Yet she was not
+as indifferent as she seemed. She had not minded it until lately, but
+now when it came in this sort of taunt she could not tell why a
+remembrance of Louis Marsac should rise before her. After all, what did
+a little Indian blood matter? Many a girl smiled on Louis Marsac, for
+they knew his father was a rich fur trader. Was it the riches that
+counted?
+
+"He will not come," she said half angrily to Pani. "The big ladies are
+very proud to have him. They wear fine clothes that come from France,
+and they can smile and Madame Fleury has a harp her daughters play upon.
+But they might be content with the young men."
+
+"It is not late yet," trying to console her darling.
+
+"Pani, I shall go outside the gates. I am so tired. I want to run races
+to get my breath. It stops just as it does when the fog is in the air."
+
+"No, child, stay here a little longer. It would be sad to miss him. And
+he is going away."
+
+"Let him go. I think all men are a great trouble! You wait and wait for
+them. Then, if you go away they are sure to come."
+
+Pani laughed. The child was brimming over with unreason. Yet her eyes
+were like stars, and in an uncomprehended way the woman felt the charm
+of her beauty. No, she would never part with her.
+
+"O Pani!" The child sprang up and executed a _pas seul_ worthy of a
+larger audience. Her first impulse was to run to meet him. Then she
+suddenly subsided from some inexplicable cause, and a flush came to her
+cheek as she dropped down on a seat beside the doorway, made of the
+round of a log, and folded her hands demurely, looking out to the
+barracks.
+
+Of course she turned when she heard the steps. There was a grave
+expression on her face, charming innocence that would have led anyone
+astray.
+
+Pani rose and made an obeisance, and brought forward a chair.
+
+"Or would Monsieur rather go in doors?" she inquired.
+
+"O no. Little one--" he held out his hand.
+
+"I thought you had forgotten. It is late," she said plaintively.
+
+"I am a busy man, my child. I could wish for a little of the freedom
+that you rejoice in so exuberantly, though I dare say I shall have
+enough on my journey."
+
+What a companion this gay, chattering child would be, going through new
+scenes!
+
+"Mademoiselle, are you ever serious? Or are you too young to take
+thought of to-morrow?"
+
+"I am always planning for to-morrow, am I not, Pani? And if it rains I
+do not mind, but go the same, except that it is not always safe on the
+river, which sometimes seems as if the giant monster of the deep was
+sailing about in it."
+
+"There is another kind of seriousness, my child, and a thought of the
+future that is not mere pleasure. You will outgrow this gay childhood.
+You may even find it necessary to go to some other country. There may be
+friends awaiting you that you know nothing of now. You would no doubt
+like to have them pleased with you, proud of you. And for this and true
+living you need some training. You must learn to read, to speak English,
+and you will find great pleasure in it. Then you will enjoy talking to
+older people. You see you will be older yourself."
+
+His eyes were fixed steadily on hers and would not allow them to waver.
+She felt the power of the stronger mind.
+
+"I have been talking with M. Bellestre's notary. He thinks you should go
+to school. There are to be some schools started as soon as the autumn
+opens. You know you wanted to learn why the world was round, and about
+the great continent of Europe and a hundred interesting subjects."
+
+"But, Monsieur, it is mostly prayers. I do not so much mind Sunday, for
+then there are people to see. But to have it every day--and the same
+things over and over--"
+
+She gave a yawn that was half ridiculous grimace.
+
+"Prayers, are very good, Mam'selle. While I am away I want you to pray
+for me that sometime God will bring me back safe and allow me to see
+you again. And I shall say when I see the sun rising on the other side
+of the world, 'It is night now in old Detroit and there is a little girl
+praying for me.'"
+
+"O Monsieur, would you be glad?" Her eyes were suffused with a mistlike
+joy. "Then I will pray for you. That is so different from praying for
+people you don't know anything about, and to--to saints. I don't know
+them either. I feel as if they sat in long rows and just nodded to you."
+
+"Pray to the good God, my child," he returned gravely. "And if you learn
+to read and write you might send me a letter."
+
+Her eyes opened wide in amazement. "Oh, I could never learn enough for
+that!" she cried despairingly.
+
+"Yes, you can, you will. M. Loisel will arrange it for you. And twice a
+week you will go to the sisters, I have promised Father Rameau. There
+will be plenty of time to run and play besides."
+
+Jeanne Angelot looked steadily down on the ground. A caterpillar was
+dragging its length along and she touched it with her foot.
+
+"It was once a butterfly. It will spin itself up in a web and hang
+somewhere all winter, and in the spring turn to a butterfly again."
+
+"That ugly thing!" in intense surprise.
+
+"And how the trees drop their leaves in the autumn and their buds are
+done up in a brown sheath until the spring sunshine softens it and the
+tiny green leaf comes out, and why the birds go to warmer countries,
+because they cannot stand snow and sleet, and return again; why the bee
+shuts himself up in the hollow tree and sleeps, and a hundred beautiful
+things. And when I come back we will talk them over."
+
+"O Monsieur!" Her rose lips quivered and the dimple in her chin deepened
+as she drew a long breath that stirred every pulse of her being.
+
+He had touched the right chord, awakened a new life within her. There
+was a struggle, yet he liked her the better for not giving up her
+individuality in a moment.
+
+"Monsieur," she exclaimed with a new humility, "I will try--indeed I
+will."
+
+"That is a brave girl. M. Loisel will attend to the matter. And you will
+be very happy after a while. It will come hard at first, but you must be
+courageous and persevering. And now I must say good-by for a long while.
+Pani I know will take excellent care of you."
+
+He rose and shook hands with the woman, whose eyes were full of love for
+the child of her adoption. Then he took both of Jeanne's little brown
+hands in his and pressed them warmly.
+
+She watched him as he threaded his way through the narrow street and
+turned the corner. Then she rushed into the house and threw herself on
+the small pallet, sobbing as if her heart would break. No one for whom
+she cared had ever gone out of her life before. With Pani there was
+complete ownership, but Monsieur St. Armand was a new experience.
+Neither had she really loved her playmates, she had found them all so
+different from herself. Next to Pani stood Wenonah and the grave
+brown-faced babies who tumbled about the floor when they were not
+fastened to their birch bark canoe cradle with a flat end balancing it
+against the wall. She sometimes kissed them, they were so quaint and
+funny.
+
+"_Ma mie, ma mie_, let me take thee to my bosom," Pani pleaded. "He will
+return again as he said, for he keeps his word. And thou wilt be a big
+girl and know many things, and he will be proud of thee. And M.
+Bellestre may come."
+
+Jeanne's sobs grew less. She had been thrust so suddenly into a new
+world of tender emotion that she was frightened. She did not want to go
+out again, and sat watching Pani as she made some delicious broth out of
+fresh green corn, that was always a great treat to the child.
+
+It was true there was a new stir in the atmosphere of old Detroit. For
+General Wayne with the prescience of an able and far-sighted patriot had
+said, "To make good citizens they must learn the English language and
+there must be schools. Education will be the corner stone of this new
+country."
+
+Governor St. Clair had a wide territory to look after. There were many
+unsettled questions about land and boundaries and proper laws. New
+settlements were projected, but Detroit was left to adjust many
+questions for itself. A school was organized where English and various
+simple branches should be taught. It was opposed by Father Gilbert, who
+insisted that all the French Catholics should be sent to the Recollet
+house, and trained in Church lore exclusively. But the wider knowledge
+was necessary since there were so many who could not read, and the laws
+and courts would be English.
+
+The school session was half a day. The better class people had a few
+select schools, and sometimes several families joined and had their
+children taught at the house of some parent and shared expenses.
+
+Jeanne felt like a wild thing caught and thrust into a cage. There were
+disputes and quarrels, but she soon established a standing for herself.
+The boys called her Indian, and a name that had been flung at her more
+than once--tiger cat.
+
+"You will see that I can scratch," she rejoined, threateningly.
+
+"I will learn English, Pani, and no one shall interfere. M. Loisel said
+if I went to the sisters on Wednesday and Friday afternoons that Father
+Rameau would be satisfied. He is nice and kindly, but I hate Father
+Gilbert. And," laughingly, "I think they are all afraid of M. Bellestre.
+Do you suppose he will take me home with him when he comes? I do not
+want to leave Detroit."
+
+Pani sighed. She liked the old town as well.
+
+Jeanne flew to the woods when school was over. She did envy the Indian
+girls their freedom for they were not trained in useful arts as were the
+French girls. Oh, the frolics in the woods, the hunting of berries and
+grapes, the loads of beautiful birch and ash bark, the wild flowers that
+bloomed until frost came! and the fields turning golden with the
+ripening corn, secure from Indian raids! The thrifty French farmers
+watched it with delight.
+
+Marie De Ber had been kept very busy since the spinning began. Madame
+thought schooling shortsighted business except for boys who would be
+traders by and by, and must learn how to reckon correctly and do a
+little writing.
+
+They went after the last gleaning of berries one afternoon, when the
+autumn sunshine turned all to gold.
+
+"O Marie," cried Jeanne, "here is a harvest! Come at once, and if you
+want them don't shout to anyone."
+
+"O Jeanne, how good you are! For you might have called Susanne, who goes
+to school, and I have thought you liked her better than you do me."
+
+"No, I do not like her now. She pinched little Jacques Moet until he
+cried out and then she laid it to Pierre Dessau, who was well thrashed
+for it, and I called her a coward. I am afraid girls are not brave."
+
+"Come nearer and let us hide in this thicket. For if I do not get a big
+lot of berries mother will send Rose next time, she threatened."
+
+"You can have some of mine. Pani will not care; for she never scolds at
+such a thing."
+
+"Pani is very good to you. Mother complains that she spoils you and that
+you are being brought up like a rich girl."
+
+Jeanne laughed. "Pani never struck me in my life. She isn't quite like a
+mother, you see, but she loves me, loves me!" with emphasis.
+
+"There are so many for mother to love," and the girl sighed.
+
+"Jeanne," she began presently, "I want to tell you something. Mother
+said I must not mention it until it was quite settled. There is--some
+one--he has been at father's shop and--and is coming on Sunday to see
+mother--"
+
+Jeanne stood up suddenly. "It is Martin Lavosse," she said. "You danced
+with him. He is so gay. O Marie!" and her face was alight.
+
+"No, it is not Martin. I would not mind if it were. But he is so young,
+only eighteen."
+
+"You are young, too."
+
+Marie sighed again. "You have not seen him. It is Antoine Beeson. He is
+a boat builder, and has been buying some of the newly surveyed land down
+at the southern end. Father has known him quite a long while. His sister
+has married and gone to Frenchtown. He is lonely and wants a wife."
+
+"But there are many girls looking for husbands," hesitated Jeanne, not
+knowing whether to approve or oppose; and Marie's husband was such a new
+idea.
+
+"So father says. And we have five girls, you know. Rose is as tall as I
+and has a prettier face and dances like a sprite. And there are so many
+of the fur hunters and traders who drink and spend their money, and
+sometimes beat their wives. Margot Beeson picked out a wife for him, but
+he said she was too old. It was Lise Moet."
+
+Jeanne laughed. "I should not want to live with her, her voice goes
+through your head like a knife. She is little Jacques' aunt and the
+children are all afraid of her. How old is Antoine?"
+
+"Twenty-eight!" in a low, protesting tone.
+
+"Just twice as old as you!" said Jeanne with a little calculation.
+
+"Yes, I can't help but think of it. And when I am thirty he will be an
+old man sixty years old, bent down and wrinkled and cross, maybe."
+
+"O no, Marie," cried Jeanne, eagerly. "It is not that way one reckons.
+Everything does not double up so fast. He is fourteen years older than
+you, and when you are thirty he can only be fourteen years older than
+you. Count up on your ten fingers--that makes forty, and four more, he
+will be forty-four."
+
+Marie's mouth and eyes opened in surprise. "Are you quite sure?" with an
+indrawn breath.
+
+"O yes, sure as that the river runs to the lake. It is what they teach
+at school. And though it is a great trouble to make yourself remember,
+and you wonder what it is all about, then at other times you can use the
+knowledge and are happy and glad over it. There are so many queer
+things," smiling a little. "And they are not in the catechism or the
+prayers. The sisters shake their heads over them."
+
+"But can they be quite right?" asked Marie in a kind of awesome tone.
+
+"Why they seem right for the men to know," laughed Jeanne. "How else
+could they be bartering and counting money? And it is said that Madame
+Ganeau goes over her husband's books every week since they found Jules
+Froment was a thief, and kept wrong accounts, putting the money in his
+own pocket."
+
+Jeanne raised her voice triumphantly.
+
+"Oh, here they are!" cried Cecile followed by a string of girls. "And
+look, they have found a harvest, their pails are almost full. You mean,
+selfish things!"
+
+"Why you had the same right to be hunting everywhere," declared Jeanne
+stoutly. "We found a good place and we picked--that is all there is of
+it."
+
+"But you might have called us."
+
+Jeanne laughed in a tantalizing manner.
+
+"O Jeanne Angelot, you think yourself some great things because you live
+inside the stockade and go to a school where they teach all manner of
+lies to the children. Your place is out in some Indian wigwam. You're
+half Indian, anyhow."
+
+"Look at us!" Jeanne made a sudden bound and placed herself beside
+Cecile, whose complexion was swarthy, her hair straight, black, and
+rather coarse, and her dark eyes had a yellowish tinge, even to the
+whites. "Perhaps I am the descendant of some Indian princess--I should
+be proud of it, for the Indians once held all this great new world; and
+the French and English could not hold it."
+
+There was a titter among the girls. Never had Jeanne looked prouder or
+handsomer, and Cecile's broad nose distended with anger while her lips
+were purple. She was larger but she did not dare attack Jeanne, for she
+knew the nature and the prowess of the tiger cat.
+
+"Let us go home; it gets late," cried one of the girls, turning her
+companion about.
+
+"O Jeanne," whispered Marie, "how splendid you are! No husband would
+ever dare beat you."
+
+"I should tear out his eyes if he did."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+LOVERS AND LOVERS.
+
+
+There were days when Jeanne Angelot thought she should smother in the
+stuffy school, and the din of the voices went through her head like the
+rushing noise of a whirlwind. She had stolen out of the room once or
+twice and had not been called to an account for it. Then one day she saw
+a boy whipped severely for the same thing. Children were so often beaten
+in those days, and yet the French habitans were very fond of their
+offspring.
+
+Jeanne lingered after the children made their clumsy bows and shuffled
+out.
+
+"Well, what is it?" asked the gruff master.
+
+"Monsieur, you whipped the Dorien boy for running away from school."
+
+"Yes, and I'll do it again. I'll break up the bad practice. Their
+parents send them to school. They do a mean, dishonest thing and then
+they lie about it. Don't come sniveling to me about Dorien."
+
+"Monsieur, I was not going to snivel for anybody. You were right to keep
+your word. If you had promised a holiday and not given it to us we
+should have felt that you were mean and not of your word. So what is
+right for one side is right for the other."
+
+He looked over the tops of his glasses, and he made deep wrinkles in
+his forehead to do it. His eyes were keen and sharp and disconcerted
+Jeanne a little.
+
+"Upon my word!" he ejaculated.
+
+Jeanne drew a long breath and was almost afraid to go on with her
+confession. Only she should not feel clean inside until she had uttered
+it.
+
+"There'd be no trouble teaching school if the pupils could see that.
+There'd be little trouble in the world if the people could see it. It is
+the good on my side, the bad shoved off on yours. Who taught you such a
+sense of fairness, of honesty?"
+
+If he could have gotten his grim face into smiling lines he would have
+done it. As it was it softened.
+
+"Monsieur, I wanted to tell you that I had not been fair. I ran out of
+school the second day. It was like daggers going through my head and
+there were stars before my eyes and such a ringing in my ears! So I ran
+out of doors, clear out to the woods and stayed there up in a high tree
+where the birds sang to me and the wind made music among the leaves and
+one could almost look through the blue sky where the white boats went
+sailing. I thought I would not come to school any more."
+
+"Well--you did though." He was trying to think who this strange child
+was.
+
+"You see I had promised. And I wanted to learn English and many other
+things that are not down in the prayers and counting beads. Pani said it
+was wrong. So I came back. You did not know I had run away, Monsieur."
+
+"No, but there was no rule then. I should have been glad if half of them
+had run away."
+
+He gave a chuckle and a funny gleam shone out of his eye, and there was
+a curl in his lip as if the amusement could not get out.
+
+Jeanne wanted to smile. She should never be afraid of him again.
+
+"And there was another time--"
+
+"How many more?"
+
+"No more. For Pani said, 'Would you like to tell Monsieur St.
+Armand?'--and I knew I should be ashamed."
+
+A delicate flush stole over her face, going up to the tangle of rings on
+her forehead. What a pretty child she was!
+
+"Monsieur St. Armand?" inquiringly.
+
+"He was here in the summer. He has gone to Paris. And he wanted me to
+study. It is hard and sometimes foolishness, but then people are so much
+nicer who know a great many things."
+
+"Oh," he said thoughtfully, "you live with an Indian woman up by the
+barracks? It is Monsieur Loisel's protegee?" and he gave her an
+inquiring look.
+
+"Monsieur, I would like to know what a protegee is," with a puzzled
+look.
+
+"Some one, generally a child, in whom you take an interest."
+
+She gave a thoughtful nod, then a quick joy flamed up in her face. She
+was Monsieur St. Armand's protegee and she was very glad.
+
+"You are a courageous child. I wish the boys were as brave. I hate
+lying;" the man said after a pause.
+
+"O M'sieu, there are a great many cowardly people--do you not think so?"
+she returned naively.
+
+He really smiled then, and gave several emphatic nods at her youthful
+discrimination.
+
+"And you think you will not run away any more?"
+
+"No, Monsieur, because--it is wrong."
+
+"Then we must excuse you."
+
+"Thank you, Monsieur. I wanted you to know. Now I can feel light
+hearted."
+
+She made a pretty courtesy and half turned.
+
+"If you did not mind I should like to hear something about your Monsieur
+St. Armand, that is, if you are not in a hurry to get home to your
+dinner."
+
+"Oh, Pani will wait."
+
+She told her story eagerly, and he saw the wish to please this friend
+who had shown such an interest in her was a strong incentive. But she
+had a desire for knowledge beside that. So many of the children were
+stupid and hated study. He would watch over her and see that she
+progressed. This, no doubt, was the friend M. Loisel had spoken of.
+
+"You have been very good to me, M'sieu," she said with another courtesy
+as she turned away.
+
+Several days had elapsed before she saw Marie again, for Madame De Ber
+rather discountenanced the intimacy now. She had not much opinion of the
+school; the sisters and the priests could teach all that was necessary.
+And Jeanne still ran about like a wild deer, while Marie was a woman.
+
+On Sunday Antoine Beeson came to pay his respects to Madame, the mamma.
+He surely could not be considered a young girl's ideal,--short, stout,
+red-faced from exposure to wind and water and sun, his thick brown hair
+rather long, though he had been clean shaven the evening before. He wore
+his best deerskin breeches, his gray sort of blouse with a red belt, and
+low, clumsy shoes with his father's buckles that had come from France,
+and he was duly proud of them. His gay bordered handkerchief and his
+necktie were new for the occasion.
+
+Monsieur De Ber had satisfied himself that he would make a good
+son-in-law.
+
+"For you see there is the house all ready, and now the servant has no
+head and is idle and wasteful. I cannot stand such work. I wish your
+daughter was two or three years older, since I cannot go back myself,"
+the admirer exclaimed rather regretfully.
+
+"Marie will be fifteen in the spring. She has been well trained, being
+the eldest girl, and Madame is a thrifty and excellent housekeeper. Then
+we all mend of youth. You will have a strong, healthy woman to care for
+you in your old age, instead of a decrepit body to be a burthen to you."
+
+"That is well thought of, De Ber;" and the suitor gave a short chuckle.
+There was wisdom in the idea.
+
+Madame had sent Marie and Rose out to walk with the children. She knew
+she should accept the suitor, for her husband had said:--
+
+"It is quite a piece of luck, since there are five girls to marry off.
+And there's many a one who would jump at the chance. Then we shall not
+have to give Marie much dowry beside her setting out. It is not like
+young people beginning from the very hearthstone."
+
+She met the suitor with a friendly greeting as if he were an ordinary
+visitor, and they talked of the impending changes in the town, the
+coming of the Americans, the stir in business prospects, M. Beeson was
+not much of a waster of words, and he came to the point presently.
+
+"It will be hard to spare Marie," she said with an accent of regret.
+"Being the eldest she has had a great deal of experience. She is like a
+mother to the younger ones. She has not been spending her time in
+fooling around idly and dancing and being out on the river, like so many
+girls. Rose is not worth half of Marie, and I do not see how I shall
+ever get the trifler trained to take Marie's place. But there need be no
+immediate haste."
+
+"O Madame, we can do our courting afterward. I can take Mam'selle out to
+the booths Saturday night, and we can look at the dancing. There will be
+all day Sunday when I am at liberty. But you see there is the house
+going to wrack, the servant spending my money, and the discomfort. I
+miss my sister so much. And I thought we would not make a long story.
+Dear Madame, you must see the need."
+
+"It is sad to be sure. But you see Marie being so young and kept rather
+close, not having any admirers, it takes us suddenly. And the wedding
+gear--"
+
+"Mam'selle always looks tidy. But I suppose a girl wants some show at
+the church and the maids. Well, one doesn't get married many times in
+one's life. But I would like it to be by Christmas. It will be a little
+dull with me no doubt, and toward spring it is all hurry and drive,
+Antoine here and Antoine there. New boats and boats to be patched and
+canoes and dugouts. Then the big ships are up for repairs. I have worked
+moonlight nights, Madame. And Christmas is a pleasurable time."
+
+"Yes, a pleasant time for a girl to remember. I was married at
+Pentecost. And there was the great procession. Dear! dear! It is not
+much over seventeen years ago and we have nine children."
+
+"Pierre is a big lad, Madame, and a great help to his father. Children
+are a pleasure and comfort in one's old age if they do well. And thine
+are being well brought up. Marie is so good and steady. It is not wisdom
+for a man like me to choose a flighty girl."
+
+"Marie will make a good wife," returned Madame, confidently.
+
+And so when Marie returned it was all settled and Antoine had been
+invited to tea. Marie was in a desperate flutter. Of course there was
+nothing for her to say and she would not have had the courage to say it
+if there had been. But she could not help comparing him with Martin
+Lavosse, and some of the young men who greeted her at church. If his
+face were not quite so red, and his figure so clumsy! His hands, too,
+were broad with stubby ends to the fingers. She looked at her own; they
+were quite shapely, for youth has a way of throwing off the marks of
+toil that are ready enough to come back in later life.
+
+"_Ma fille_," said her mother when the lover had wished them all good
+night, rather awkwardly, and her father had gone out to walk with him;
+"_ma fille_, Monsieur Beeson has done us the honor to ask for thy hand.
+He is a good, steady, well-to-do man with a nice home to take thee to.
+He does not carouse nor spend his money foolishly, but will always stay
+at home with thee, and make thee happy. Many a girl will envy thy lot.
+He wants the wedding about Christmas time, so the betrothal will be
+soon, in a week or so. Heaven bless and prosper thee, my child! A good
+daughter will not make an ill wife. Thy father is very proud."
+
+Rose and Marie looked unutterable things at each other when they went to
+bed. There were little pitchers in the trundle-bed, and their parents in
+the next room.
+
+"If he were not so old!" whispered Rose.
+
+"And if he could dance! But with that figure!"
+
+"Like a buffalo!" Marie's protest forced its way up from her heart. "And
+I have just begun to think of things that make one happy. There will be
+dances at Christmastide."
+
+"I wonder if one is sure to love one's husband," commented Rose.
+
+"It would be wicked not to. But how does one begin? I am so afraid of
+his loud voice."
+
+"Girls, cease whispering and go to sleep. The night will be none too
+long," called their mother.
+
+Marie wiped some tears from her eyes. But it was a great comfort to her
+when she was going to church the next Sunday and walking behind the
+Bronelle girls to hear Hortense say:--
+
+"I have my cap set for Tony Beeson. His sister has kept close watch of
+him, but now he is free. I was down to the dock on Friday, and he was
+very cordial and sent a boy over the river with me in a canoe and would
+take no pay. Think of that! I shall make him walk home with me if I
+can."
+
+Marie De Ber flushed. Some one would be glad to have him. At first she
+half wished he had chosen Hortense, then a bit of jealousy and a bit of
+triumph surged through her slow pulses.
+
+Antoine Beeson walked home on the side of M. De Ber. The children old
+enough to go to church were ranged in a procession behind. Pierre
+guarded his sisters. Jeanne was on the other side of the street with
+Pani, but the distance was so small that she glanced across with
+questioning eyes. Marie held her head up proudly.
+
+"I do believe," began Jeanne when they had turned out of St Anne's
+street, "that Marie De Ber is going to be betrothed to that rough boat
+builder who walks beside her father."
+
+"Antoine Beeson has a good record, and she will do well," returned Pani
+briefly.
+
+"But I think it would not be easy to love him," protested Jeanne.
+
+"Child, you are too young to talk about love. It is the parents who
+decide such matters."
+
+"And I have none. You could not make me marry anyone, Pani. And I do not
+like these common men."
+
+"Heaven forbid! but I might advise."
+
+"I am not going to marry, you know. After all, maybe when I get old I
+will be a sister. It won't be hard to wear a black gown then. But I
+shall wait until I am _very_ old. Pani, did you ever dream of what might
+happen to you?"
+
+"The good God sends what is best for us, child."
+
+"But--Monsieur Bellestre might come. And if he took me away then
+Monsieur St. Armand might come. Pani, is Monsieur Bellestre as nice as
+Monsieur St. Armand? I cannot seem to remember him."
+
+"Little maids should not be thinking of men so often. Think of thy
+prayers, Jeanne."
+
+Sunday was a great time to walk on the parade ground, the young men
+attired in their best, the demoiselles gay as butterflies with a mother
+or married sister to guard them from too great familiarity. But there
+was much decorous coquetting on both sides, for even at that period many
+a young fellow was caught by a pair of smiling eyes.
+
+Others went to walk in the woods outside the farms or sailing on the
+river, since there was no Puritan strictness. They did their duty by the
+morning mass and service, and the rest of the day was given over to
+simple pleasure. There was a kind of half religious hilarity in the very
+air.
+
+And the autumn was so magnificently beautiful. The great hillsides with
+their tracts of timber that looked as if they fenced in the world when
+the sun dropped down behind them, but if one threaded one's way through
+the dark aisles and came out on the other side there were wonderful
+pictures,--small prairies or levels that suggested lakes and then a sort
+of avenue stretching out until another was visible, undulating surfaces,
+groves of pine, burr oak, and great stalwart hickories, then another
+woody ridge, and so on and on through interminable tangles and over
+rivers until Lake Michigan was reached. But not many of the habitans, or
+even the English, for that matter, had traveled to the other side of the
+state. The business journeys called them northward. There were Indian
+settlements about that were not over friendly.
+
+Jeanne liked the outside world better. She was not old enough for smiles
+and smirks or an interest in fine clothes. So when she said, "Come,
+Pani," the woman rose and followed.
+
+"To the tree?" she asked as they halted a little.
+
+"To the big woods," smilingly.
+
+The cottages were many of them framed in with vines and high pickets,
+and pear and apple orchards surrounded them, whose seed and, in some
+instances, cuttings had been brought from France; roses, too, whose
+ancestors had blossomed for kings and queens. Here and there was an oak
+turned ruddy, a hickory hanging out slender yellow leaves, or a maple
+flaunting a branch of wondrous scarlet. The people had learned to
+protect and defend themselves from murderous Indian raids, or in this
+vicinity the red men had proved more friendly.
+
+Pierre De Ber came shambling along. He had grown rapidly and seemed
+loose jointed, but he had a kindly, honest face where ignorance really
+was simplicity.
+
+"You fly over the ground, Jeanne!" he exclaimed out of breath. The day
+was very warm for September. "Here I have been trying to catch up to
+you--"
+
+"Yes, Mam'selle, I am tired myself. Let us sit down somewhere and rest,"
+said Pani.
+
+"Just to this little hillock. Pani, it would make a hut with the
+clearing inside and the soft mosses. If you drew the branches of the
+trees together it would make thatching for the roof. One could live
+here."
+
+"O Mam'selle,--the Indians!" cried Pierre.
+
+Jeanne laughed. "The Indians are going farther and farther away. Now,
+Pani, sit down here. Then lean back against this tree. And now you may
+take a good long rest. I am going to talk to the chipmunks and the
+birds, and find flowers."
+
+Pani drew up her knees, resting on her feet as a brace. The soft air had
+made her sleepy as well, and she closed her eyes.
+
+"It is so beautiful," sighed Jeanne. "Something rises within me and I
+want to fly. I want to know what strange lands there are beyond the
+clouds. And over there, far, farther than one can think, is a big ocean
+no one has ever seen. It is on the map. And this way," inclining her
+head eastward, "is another. That is where you go to France."
+
+"But I shall never go to France," said the literal youth. "I want to go
+up to Michilimackinac, and there is the great Lake Huron. That is
+enough for me. If the ocean is any bigger I do not want to see it."
+
+"It is, oh, miles and hundreds of miles bigger! And it takes more than a
+month to go. The master showed me on a map."
+
+"Well, I don't care for that," pulling the leaves off a branch he had
+used for a switch.
+
+The rough, rugged, and sometimes cross face of the master was better,
+because his eyes had a wonderful light in them. What made people so
+different? Apples and pears and ears of corn generally grew one like the
+other. And pigs--she smiled to herself. And the few sheep she had seen.
+But people could think. What gave one the thinking power? In the brain
+the master said. Did every one have brains?
+
+"Jeanne, I have something wonderful to tell you."
+
+"Oh, I think I know it! Marie has a lover."
+
+He looked disappointed. "Who told you?"
+
+"No one really told me. I saw Monsieur Beeson walking home with your
+father. And Marie was afraid--"
+
+"Afraid!" the boy gave a derisive laugh. "Well, she is no longer afraid.
+They are going to be betrothed on Michaelmas eve. Tony is a good
+fellow."
+
+"Then if Marie is--satisfied--"
+
+"Why shouldn't she be satisfied? Father says it is a great chance, for
+you see she can really have no dowry, there are so many of us. We must
+all wait for our share until father has gone."
+
+"Gone? Where?" She looked up in surprise.
+
+"Why, when he is dead. Everybody has to die, you know. And then the
+money they leave is divided."
+
+Jeanne nodded. It shocked her in a vague sort of fashion, and she was
+glad Pani had no money.
+
+"And Tony Beeson has a good house and a good business. I like him," the
+boy said, doggedly.
+
+"Yes," assentingly. "But Marie is to marry him."
+
+"Oh, the idea!" Pierre laughed immoderately. "Why a man always marries a
+woman."
+
+"But your liking wouldn't help Marie."
+
+"Oh, Marie is all right. She will like him fast enough. And it will be
+gay to have a wedding. That is to be about Christmas."
+
+Jeanne was looking down the little slant to the cottages and the
+wigwams, and speculating upon the queerness of marriage.
+
+"I wish I had made as much fortune as Tony Beeson. But then I'm only a
+little past sixteen, and in five years I shall be twenty-one. Then I am
+going to have a wife and house of my own."
+
+"O Pierre!" Jeanne broke into a soft laugh.
+
+"Yes, Jeanne--" turning very red.
+
+The girl was looking at him in a mirthful fashion and it rather
+disconcerted him.
+
+"You won't mind waiting, Jeanne--"
+
+"I shan't mind waiting, but if you mean--" her cheeks turned a deeper
+scarlet and she made a little pause--"if you mean marrying I should mind
+that a good deal;" in a decisive tone.
+
+"But not to marry me? You have known me always."
+
+"I should mind marrying anyone. I shouldn't want to sweep the house, and
+cook the meals, and wash, and tend babies. I want to go and come as I
+like. I hated school at first, but now I like learning and I must crack
+the shell to get at the kernel, so you see that is why I make myself
+agree with it."
+
+"You cannot go to school always. And while you are there I shall be up
+to the Mich making some money."
+
+"Oh," with a vexed crease in her forehead, "I told you once before not
+to talk of this--the day we were all out in the boat, you remember. And
+if you go on I shall hate you; yes, I shall."
+
+"I shall go on," said the persistent fellow. "Not very often, perhaps,
+but I thought if you were one of the maids at Marie's wedding and I
+could wait on you--"
+
+"I shall not be one of the maids." She rose and stamped her foot on the
+ground. "Your mother does not like me any more. She never asks me to
+come in to tea. She thinks the school wicked. And you must marry to
+please her, as Marie is doing. So it will not be me;" she declared with
+emphasis.
+
+"Oh, I know. That Louis Marsac will come back and you will marry him."
+
+The boy's eyes flamed with jealousy and his whole face gloomed over with
+cruelty. "And then I shall kill him. I couldn't stand it," he
+continued.
+
+"I hate Louis Marsac! I hate you, Pierre De Ber!" she cried vehemently.
+
+The boy fell at her feet and kissed the hem of her frock, for she
+snatched away her hands.
+
+"No, don't hate me. I'm glad to have you hate him."
+
+"Get up, or I shall kick you," she said viciously.
+
+"O Jeanne, don't be angry! I'll wait and wait. I thought you had
+forgotten, or changed somehow. You have been so pleasant. And you smiled
+so at me this morning. I know you have liked me--"
+
+"If ever you say another word--" raising her hand.
+
+"I won't unless you let me. You see you are not grown up yet, but
+sometimes people are betrothed when they are little children--"
+
+She put her fingers in her ears and spun round and round, going down the
+little decline. Then she remembered Pani, who had fallen asleep. She
+motioned to Pierre.
+
+"Go home," she commanded as he came toward her. "And if you ever talk
+about this to me again I shall tell your father. I am not for anybody. I
+shall not mind if I am one of St. Catherine's maids."
+
+"Jeanne--"
+
+"Go!" She made an imperative motion with her hand.
+
+He walked slowly away. She started like a mad thing and ran through the
+woods at the top of her speed until her anger had vanished.
+
+"Poor Pierre," she said. "This talk of marriage has set him crazy. But
+I could never like him, and Madame Mere just hates me."
+
+She went slowly back to Pani and sat down by her side. How tired she
+looked!
+
+"And I dragged her way up here," she thought remorsefully. "I'm glad she
+didn't wake up."
+
+So she sat there patiently and let the woman finish her nap. But her
+beautiful thoughts were gone and her mind was shadowed by something
+grave and strange that she shrank from. Then Pani stirred.
+
+"O child, I've been sleeping stupidly and you have not gathered a
+flower--" looking at the empty hands. "Have you been here all the time?"
+
+"No matter. Pani, am I a tyrant dragging you everywhere?" Her voice was
+touching with regret.
+
+"No, _cherie_. But sometimes I feel old. I've lived a great many years."
+
+"How many?"
+
+"Oh, I cannot count them up. But I am rested now. Shall we walk about a
+little and get my knees limber? Where is Pierre?"
+
+"He went home. Pani, it is true Marie is to be betrothed to M'sieu
+Beeson, and married at Christmastide."
+
+"And if the sign holds good Madame De Ber will be fortunate in marrying
+off her girls, for, if the first hangs on, it is bad for the rest. Rose
+will be much prettier, and no doubt have lovers in plenty. But it is not
+always the prettiest that make the best wives. Marie is sensible. They
+will have a grand time."
+
+"And I shall not be counted in," the child said proudly.
+
+"Jeanne, little one--" in surprise.
+
+"Madame does not like me because I go to the heretic school. And--I do
+not sew nor spin, nor sweep the house--"
+
+"There is no need," interrupted Pani.
+
+"No, since I do not mean to have a husband."
+
+And yet--how amusing it was--a boy and a man were ready to quarrel over
+her. Did ever any little girl have two lovers?
+
+"Ah, little one, smile over it now, but thou wilt change presently when
+the right bird whistles through the forest."
+
+"I will not come for any man's whistle."
+
+"That is only a saying, dear."
+
+They walked down the hill. Cheerful greetings met them and Pani was
+loaded with fruit. At the hut of Wenonah, the mistress insisted upon
+their coming in to supper and Jeanne consented for them both. For,
+although the bell rang, the gates were no longer closed at six.
+
+Marie De Ber made several efforts to see her friend, but her mother's
+watchful eye nipped them in the bud. One Friday afternoon they met.
+Wednesday following was to be the betrothal.
+
+"I wanted to explain--" Marie flushed and hesitated. "There have been
+many guests asked, and they are mostly older people--"
+
+"Yes, I know. I am only a child, and your mother does not approve. Then
+I go to the heretic school."
+
+"She thinks the school a bad thing. And about the maids--"
+
+"I could not be one of them," Jeanne said stiffly.
+
+"Mother has chosen them, I had no say. She manages everything. When I
+have my own home I shall do as I like and invite whom I choose. Mother
+thinks I do not know anything and have no mind, but, Jeanne, I love you,
+and I am not afraid of what you learn at school. Monsieur Beeson said it
+was a good thing. And you will not be angry with me?"
+
+"No, no, Marie." The child's heart was touched.
+
+"We will be friends afterward. I shall tell M'sieu Beeson how long we
+have cared for each other."
+
+"You--like him?" hesitatingly.
+
+"He is very kind. And girls cannot choose. I wish he were younger, but
+it will be gay at Christmastide, and my own home will be much to me.
+Yes, we will wait until then. Jeanne, kiss me for good luck. You are
+quite sure you are not angry?"
+
+"Oh, very sure."
+
+The two girls kissed each other and Jeanne cried, "Good luck! good
+luck!" But all the same she felt Marie was going out of her life and it
+would leave a curious vacancy.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+A TOUCH OF FRIENDSHIP.
+
+
+How softly the bells rang out for the service of St. Michael and All
+Angels! The river flowing so tranquilly seemed to carry on the melody
+and then bring back a faint echo. It was a great holiday with the
+French. The early mass was thronged, somehow the virtue seemed greater
+if one went to that. Then there was a procession that marched to the
+little chapels outside, which were hardly more than shrines.
+
+Pani went out early and alone. And though the good priest had said to
+her, "The child is old enough and should be confirmed," since M.
+Bellestre had some objections and insisted that Jeanne should not be
+hurried into any sacred promises, and the child herself seemed to have
+no desire, they waited.
+
+"But you peril the salvation of her soul. Since she has been baptized
+she should be confirmed," said Father Rameau. "She is a child of the
+Church. And if she should die!"
+
+"She will not die," said Pani with a strange confidence, "and she is to
+decide for herself."
+
+"What can a child know!"
+
+"Then if she cannot know she must be blameless. Monsieur Bellestre was a
+very good man. And, M'sieu, some who come to mass, to their shame be it
+said, cheat their neighbors and get drunk, and tempt others to drink."
+
+"Most true, but that doesn't lessen our duty."
+
+M. Bellestre had not come yet. This time a long illness had intervened.
+
+Jeanne went out in the procession and sang in the hymns and the rosary.
+And she heard about the betrothal. The house had been crowded with
+guests and Marie had on a white frock and a beautiful sash, and her hair
+was curled.
+
+In spite of her protests Jeanne did feel deeply hurt that she should be
+left out. Marie had made a timid plea for her friend.
+
+"We cannot ask all the children in the town," said her mother
+emphatically. "And no one knows whether she has any real position. She
+is a foundling, and no company for you."
+
+Pani went down the river with her in the afternoon. She was gayety
+itself, singing little songs and laughing over everything so that she
+quite misled her nurse into thinking that she really did not care. Then
+she made Pani tell some old legends of the spirits who haunted the lakes
+and rivers, and she added to them some she had heard Wenonah relate.
+
+"I should like to live down in some depths, one of the beautiful caves
+where there are gems and all lovely things," said the child.
+
+"As if there were not lovely things in the forests. There are no birds
+in the waters. And fishes are not as bright and merry as squirrels."
+
+"That is true enough. I'll stay on the earth a little while longer,"
+laughingly. "But look at the lovely colors. O Pani, how many beautiful
+things there are! And yet Berthe Campeau is going to Quebec to become a
+nun and be shut out of it. How can you praise God for things you do not
+see and cannot enjoy? And is it such a good thing to suffer? Does God
+rejoice in the pain that he doesn't send and that you take upon
+yourself? Her poor mother will die and she will not be here to comfort
+her."
+
+Pani shook her head. The child had queer thoughts.
+
+"Pani, we must go and see Madame Campeau afterward. She will be very
+lonely. You would not be happy if I went away?"
+
+"O child!" with a quick cry.
+
+"So I am not going. If Monsieur Bellestre wants me he will take you,
+too."
+
+Pani nodded.
+
+They noted as they went down that a tree growing imprudently near the
+water's edge had fallen in. There was a little bend in the river, and it
+really was dangerous. So coming back they gave it a sensibly wide berth.
+
+A canoe with a young man in it came flying up. The sun had gone down and
+there were purple shadows about like troops of spirits.
+
+"Monsieur," the child cried, "do not hug the shore so much. There is
+danger."
+
+A gay laugh came back to them and he flashed on, his paddle poised at a
+most graceful angle.
+
+"O Monsieur!" with eager warning.
+
+The paddle caught. The dainty canoe turned over and floated out of reach
+with a slight gust of wind.
+
+"Monsieur"--Jeanne came nearer--"it was a fallen tree. It was so dusk I
+knew you could not see it."
+
+He was swimming toward them. "I wonder if you can help me recover my
+boat."
+
+"Monsieur, swim in to the shore and I will bring the canoe there." She
+was afraid to risk taking him in hers. "Just down below to escape the
+tree."
+
+"Oh, thank you. Yes, that will be best."
+
+His strokes were fine and strong even if he was encumbered by his
+clothing. Jeanne propelled her canoe along and drove the other in to
+shore, then caught it with a rope. He emerged from his bath and shook
+himself.
+
+"You have been very kind. I should have heeded your warning or asked you
+what it meant. And now--I have lost my paddle."
+
+"I have an extra one, Monsieur."
+
+"You are a godsend certainly. Lend it to me."
+
+He waded out, rescued his canoe and leaped adroitly into it. She was
+interested in the ease and grace.
+
+"That tree is a dangerous thing," he exclaimed.
+
+"They will remove it, Monsieur. It must have recently fallen in. The
+tide has washed the ground away."
+
+"It was quite a mishap, but owing to your quick thought I am not much
+the worse;" and he laughed. "I do not mind a wetting. As for the lost
+paddle that will break no one's heart. But I shall remember you with
+gratitude. May I ask your name?"
+
+"It is Jeanne Angelot," she said simply.
+
+"Oh, then I ought to know you--do know you a little. My father is the
+Sieur St. Armand."
+
+"Oh!" Jeanne gave a little cry of delight.
+
+"And I have a message for you. I was coming to find you to-morrow."
+
+"Monsieur may take cold in his wet clothes, Jeanne. We ought to go a
+little faster," said Pani. "The air is getting chilly here on the
+river."
+
+"If you do not mind I will hasten on. And to-morrow I shall be glad to
+come and thank you again and deliver my message."
+
+"Adieu," responded Jeanne, with a delicious gayety.
+
+He was off like a bird and soon out of sight. Jeanne drew her canoe up
+to a quiet part of the town, below the gate. The day was ending, as
+holidays often did, in a sort of carouse. Men were playing on fiddles,
+crowds of men and boys were dancing. By some flaring light others were
+playing cards or dominoes. The two threaded their way quickly along,
+Jeanne with her head and face nearly hidden by the big kerchief that was
+like a shawl.
+
+"How queer it was, Pani!" and she laughed. Her eyes were like stars in
+their pleasure. "And to think Monsieur St. Armand has sent me a message!
+Do you suppose he is in France? I asked the master to show me France--he
+has a map of these strange countries."
+
+"A map!" gasped Pani, as if it were an evil spirit.
+
+"Why, it is like a picture with lines all about it. This is France. This
+is Spain. And England, where the English come from. I should think they
+would--it is such a little place. Ever so many other countries as well.
+But after all I don't understand about their going round--"
+
+"Come and have some supper."
+
+"We should have seen him anyhow if he had not fallen into the river. And
+it was funny! If he had heeded what I said--it was lucky we saw the tree
+as we went down."
+
+"He will give due notice of it, no doubt. The water is so clear that it
+can easily be seen in the daytime. Otherwise I should feel troubled."
+
+Jeanne nodded with gay affirmation. She was in exuberant spirits, and
+could hardly eat.
+
+Then they sat out in the doorway, shaded somewhat by the clinging vines.
+From below there was a sound of music. Up at the Fort the band was
+playing. There was no moon, but the stars were bright and glittering in
+strange tints. Now and then a party rather merry with wine and whisky
+trolled out a noisy stave that had been imported from the mother country
+years ago about Jacques and his loves and his good wine.
+
+Presently the great bell clanged out. That was a signal for booths to
+shut, for deerhide curtains to be drawn. Some obstreperous soldiers were
+marched to the guardhouse. Some drunken revelers crept into a nook
+beside a storage box or hid in a tangle of vines to sleep until
+morning.
+
+But in many of the better class houses merriment and gayety went on
+while the outside decorousness was observed. There was a certain respect
+paid to law and the new rulers were not so arbitrary as the English had
+been. Also French prejudices were wearing slowly away while the real
+characteristics of the race remained.
+
+"I shall not go to school to-day," said Jeanne the next morning. "I will
+tell the master how it was, and he will pardon me. And I will get two
+lessons to-morrow, so the children will see that he does not favor me. I
+think they are sometimes jealous."
+
+She laughed brightly and went dancing about singing whatever sounds
+entered her mind. Now it was a call of birds, then a sharp high cry,
+anon a merry whistle that one might fancy came from the woods. She ran
+out and in, she looked up and down the narrow street with its crooks
+that had never been smoothed out, and with some houses standing in the
+very road as it were. Everything was crowded in the business part.
+
+Rose De Ber spied her out and came running up to greet her; tossing her
+head consequentially.
+
+"We had a gay time last night. I wish you could have peeped in the
+windows. But you know it was not for children, only grown people. Martin
+Lavosse danced ever so many times with me, but he moaned about Marie,
+and I said, 'By the time thou art old enough to marry she will have a
+houseful of babies, perhaps she will give you her first daughter,' and
+he replied, 'I shall not wait that length of time. There are still good
+fish in the lakes and rivers, but I am sorry to see her wed before she
+has had a taste of true life and pleasure.' And, Jeanne, I have resolved
+that mother shall not marry me off to the first comer."
+
+Jeanne nodded approval.
+
+"I do not see what has come over Pierre," she went on. "He was grumpy as
+a wounded bear last night and only a day or two ago he made such a
+mistake in reckoning that father beat him. And Monsieur Beeson and
+mother nearly quarreled over the kind of learning girls should have. He
+said every one should know how to read and write and figure a little so
+that she could overlook her husband's affairs if he should be ill. Marie
+is going to learn to read afterward, and she is greatly pleased."
+
+It was true that ignorance prevailed largely among the common people.
+The children were taught prayers and parts of the service and catechism
+orally, since that was all that concerned their souls' salvation, and it
+kept a wider distinction between the classes. But the jolly, merry
+Frenchman, used to the tradition of royalty, cared little. His place was
+at the end of the line and he enjoyed the freedom. He would not have
+exchanged his rough, comfortable dress for all the satin waistcoats,
+velvet small clothes and lace ruffles in the world. Like the Indian he
+had come to love his liberty and the absence of troublesome
+restrictions.
+
+But the English had brought in new methods, although education with them
+was only for the few. The colonist from New England made this a
+specialty. As soon as possible in a new settlement schools were
+established, but there were other restrictions before them and learning
+of most kinds had to fight its way.
+
+Jeanne saw her visitor coming up the street just as her patience was
+almost exhausted. She was struck with a sudden awe at the sight of the
+well dressed young man.
+
+"Did you think I would not keep my word?" he asked gayly.
+
+"But your father did," she answered gravely.
+
+"Ah, I am afraid I shall never make so fine a man. I have seen no one
+like him, Mam'selle, though there are many courageous and honorable men
+in the world. But you know I have not met everybody," laughing and
+showing white, even teeth between the red lips. "Good day!" to Pani, who
+invited him in into the room where she had set a chair for him.
+
+"I want to ask your pardon for my rudeness yesterday," bowing to the
+child and the woman. "Perhaps my handling of the canoe did not impress
+you with the idea of superior knowledge, but I have been used to it from
+boyhood, and have shot rapids, been caught in gales, oh, almost
+everything!"
+
+"It was not that, Monsieur. We had seen the tree with its branches like
+so many clinging arms, and it was getting purple and dun as you came up,
+so we thought it best to warn."
+
+"And I obstinately ran right into danger, which shows how much good
+advice is thrown away. You see the paddle caught and over I went. But
+the first thing this morning some boatmen went down and removed it.
+However, I did not mind the wetting. It was not the first time."
+
+"And Monsieur did not take cold? The nights are chilly now along the
+river's edge. The sun slips down suddenly," was Pani's anxious comment.
+
+"Oh, no. I am inured to such things. I have been a traveler, too. It was
+a gay day yesterday, Mam'selle."
+
+"Yes," answered Jeanne. Yet she had felt strangely solitary. "Your
+father, Monsieur, is in France. I have been learning about that
+country."
+
+"Oh, no, not yet. There was some business in Washington. To-morrow I
+leave Detroit to rejoin him in New York, from which place we set sail,
+though the journey is a somewhat dangerous one now, what with pirate
+ships and England claiming a right of search. But we shall trust a good
+Providence."
+
+"You go also," she said with a touch of disappointment. It gave a
+bewitching gravity to her countenance.
+
+"Oh, yes. My father and I are never long apart. We are very fond of each
+other."
+
+"And your mother--" she asked hesitatingly.
+
+"I do not remember her, for I was an infant when she died. But my father
+keeps her in mind always. And I must give you his message."
+
+He took out a beautifully embossed leathern case with silver mountings
+and ran over the letters.
+
+"Ah--here. 'I want you to see my little friend, Jeanne Angelot, and
+report her progress to me. I hope the school has not frightened her.
+Tell her there are little girls in other cities and towns who are
+learning many wonderful things and will some day grow up into charming
+women such as men like for companions. It will be hard and tiresome, but
+she must persevere and learn to write so that she can send me a letter,
+which I shall prize very highly. Give her my blessing and say she must
+become a true American and honor the country of which we are all going
+to feel very proud in years to come. But with all this she must never
+outgrow her love for her foster mother, to whom I send respect, nor her
+faith in the good God who watches over and will keep her from all harm
+if she puts her trust in him.'"
+
+Jeanne gave a long sigh. "O Monsieur, it is wonderful that people can
+talk this way on paper. I have tried, but the master could not help
+laughing and I laughed, too. It was like a snail crawling about and the
+pen would go twenty ways as if there was an evil sprite in my fingers.
+But I shall keep on although it is very tiresome and I have such a
+longing to be out in the fields and woods, chasing squirrels and singing
+to the birds, which sometimes light on my shoulder. And I know a good
+many English words, but the reading looks so funny, as if there were no
+sense to it!"
+
+"But there is a great deal. You will be very glad some day. Then I may
+take a good account to him and tell him you are trying to obey his
+wishes?"
+
+"Yes, Monsieur, I shall be very glad to. And he will write me the letter
+that he promised?"
+
+"Indeed he will. He always keeps his promises. And I shall tell him you
+are happy and glad as a bird soaring through the air?"
+
+"Not always glad. Sometimes a big shadow falls over me and my breath
+throbs in my throat. I cannot tell what makes the strange feeling. It
+does not come often, and perhaps when I have learned more it will
+vanish, for then I can read books and have something for my thoughts.
+But I am glad a good deal of the time."
+
+"I don't wonder my father was interested in her," Laurent St. Armand
+thought. He studied the beautiful eyes with their frank innocence, the
+dainty mouth and chin, the proud, uplifted expression that indicated
+nobleness and no self-consciousness.
+
+"And now I must bid thee good-by with my own and my father's blessing.
+We shall return to America and find you again. You will hardly go away
+from Detroit?"
+
+She was quite ready at that moment to give up M. Bellestre's plans for
+her future.
+
+He took her hand. Then he pressed his lips upon it with the grave
+courtesy of a gentleman.
+
+"Adieu," he said softly. "Pani, watch well over her."
+
+The woman bowed her head with a deeper feeling than mere assent.
+
+Jeanne sat down on the doorstep, leaning her elbow on her knee and her
+chin in her hand. Grave thoughts were stirring within her, the
+awakening of a new life on the side she had seen, but never known. The
+beautiful young women quite different from the gay, chattering
+demoiselles, their proudly held heads, their dignity, their soft voices,
+their air of elegance and refinement, all this Jeanne Angelot felt but
+could not have put into words, not even into thought. And this young man
+was over on that side. Oh, all Detroit must lie between, from the river
+out to the farms! Could she ever cross the great gulf? What was it made
+the difference--education? Then she would study more assiduously than
+ever. Was this why Monsieur St. Armand was so earnest about her trying?
+
+She glanced down at her little brown hand. Oh, how soft and warm his
+lips had been, what a gentle touch! She pressed her own lips to it, and
+a delicious sensation sped through her small body.
+
+"What art thou dreaming about, Jeanne? Come to thy dinner."
+
+She glanced up with a smile. In a vague way she had known before there
+were many things Pani could not understand; now she felt the keen,
+far-reaching difference between them, between her and the De Bers, and
+Louis Marsac, and all the people she had ever known. But her mother, who
+could tell most about her, was dead.
+
+It was not possible for a glad young thing to keep in a strained mood
+that would have no answering comprehension, and Jeanne's love of nature
+was so overwhelming. Then the autumn at the West was so glowing, so
+full of richness that it stirred her immeasurably. She could hardly
+endure the confinement on some days.
+
+"What makes you so restless?" asked the master one noon when he was
+dismissing some scholars kept in until their slow wits had mastered
+their tasks. She, too, had been inattentive and willful.
+
+"I am part of the woods to-day, a chipmunk running about, a cricket
+which dares not chirp," and she glanced up into the stern eyes with a
+merry light, "a grasshopper who takes long strides, a bee who goes
+buzzing, a glad, gay bird who says to his mate, 'Come, let us go to the
+unknown land and spend a winter in idleness, with no nest to build, no
+hungry, crying babies to feed, nothing but just to swing in the trees
+and laugh with the sunshine.'"
+
+"Thou art a queer child. Come, say thy lesson well and we will spend the
+whole afternoon in the woods. Thou shalt consort with thy brethren the
+birds, for thou art brimming over."
+
+The others were dismissed with some added punishment. The master took
+out his luncheon. He was not overpaid, he had no family and lived by
+himself, sleeping in the loft over the school.
+
+"Oh, come home with me!" the child cried. "Pani's cakes of maize are so
+good, and no one cooks fish with such a taste and smell. It would make
+one rise in the middle of the night."
+
+"Will the tall Indian woman give me a welcome?"
+
+"Oh, Pani likes whomever I like;" with gay assurance.
+
+"And dost thou like me, child?"
+
+"Yes, yes." She caught his hand in both of hers. "Sometimes you are
+cross and make ugly frowns, and often I pity the poor children you beat,
+but I know, too, they deserve it. And you speak so sharp! I used to jump
+when I heard it, but now I only give a little start, and sometimes just
+smile within, lest the children should see it and be worse. It is a
+queer little laugh that runs down inside of one. Come, Pani will be
+waiting."
+
+She took his hand as they picked their way through the narrow streets,
+having to turn out now and then for a loaded wheelbarrow, or two men
+carrying a big plank on their shoulders, or a heavy burthen, one at each
+end. For there were some streets not even a wagon and two horses could
+get through.
+
+To the master's surprise Pani did not even seem put out as Jeanne
+explained the waiting. Had fish toasted before the coals ever tasted so
+good? The sagamite he had learned to tolerate, but the maize cakes were
+so excellent it seemed as if he could never get enough of them.
+
+The golden October sun lay warm everywhere and was tinting the hills and
+forests with richness that glowed and glinted as if full of life. Afar,
+one could see the shine of the river, the distant lake, the undulations
+where the tall trees did not cut it off. Crows were chattering and
+scolding. A great flock of wild geese passed over with their hoarse,
+mysterious cry, and shaped like two immense wings each side of their
+leader.
+
+"Now you shall tell me about the other countries where you have been,"
+and Jeanne dropped on the soft turf, motioning him to be seated.
+
+In all his journeying through the eastern part of the now United
+Colonies, he thought he had never seen a fairer sight than this. It
+warmed and cheered his old heart. And sure he had never had a more
+enraptured listener.
+
+But in a brief while the glory of wood and field was gone. The shriveled
+leaves were blown from the trees by the fierce gusts. The beeches stood
+like bare, trembling ghosts, the pines and firs with their rough dark
+tops were like great Indian wigwams and were enough to terrify the
+beholder. Sharp, shrill cries at night of fox and wolf, the rustle of
+the deer and the slow, clumsy tread of the bear, the parties of Indians
+drawing nearer civilization, braves who had roamed all summer in
+idleness returning to patient squaws, told of the approach of winter.
+
+New pickets were set about barns and houses, and coverings of skin made
+added warmth. The small flocks were carefully sheltered from marauding
+Indians. Doors and windows were hung with curtains of deer skins, floors
+were covered with buffalo or bear hide, and winter garments were brought
+out. Even inside the palisade one could see a great change in apparel
+and adornment. The booths were no longer invitingly open, but here and
+there were inns and places of evening resort where the air was not only
+enough to stifle one, but so blue with smoke you could hardly see your
+neighbor's face. No merry parties sang songs upon the river nor went up
+to the lake in picnic fashion.
+
+Still there was no lack of hearty good cheer. On the farms one and
+another gave a dance to celebrate some special occasion. There was
+husking corn and shelling it, there were meats and fish to be salted,
+some of it dried, for now the inhabitants within and without knew that
+winter was long and cold.
+
+They had sincerely mourned General Wayne. A new commandant had been
+sent, but the general government was poor and deeply in debt and there
+were many vexed questions to settle. So old Detroit changed very little
+under the new regime. There was some delightful social life around the
+older or, rather, more aristocratic part of the town, where several
+titled English people still remained. Fortnightly balls were given,
+dinners, small social dances, for in that time dancing was the amusement
+of the young as card playing was of the older ones.
+
+Then came days of whirling, blinding snow when one could hardly stir
+out, succeeded by sunshine of such brilliance that Detroit seemed a
+dazzle of gems. Parties had merry games of snowballing, there were
+sledging, swift traveling on skates and snowshoes, and if the days were
+short the long evenings were full of good cheer, though many a gruesome
+story was told of Pontiac's time, and the many evil times before that,
+and of the heroic explorers and the brave fathers who had gone to plant
+the cross and the lilies of France in the wilderness.
+
+Jeanne wondered that she should care so little for the defection of the
+De Bers. Pierre passed her with a sullen nod when he met her face to
+face and sometimes did not notice her at all. Marie was very important
+when she recovered from the surprise that a man should want to marry
+her, and that she should be the first of Delisse Graumont's maids to
+marry, she who was the youngest of them all.
+
+"I had a beau in my cup at the tea drinking, and he was holding out his
+hand, which was a sign that he would come soon. And, Rose, I mean to
+have a tea drinking. I hope you will get the beau."
+
+"I am in no hurry," and Rose tossed her pretty head.
+
+Marie and her mother went down to the Beeson house to see what
+plenishings were needed. It was below the inclosure, quite a farm, in
+the new part running down to the river, where there was a dock and a
+rough sort of basin, quite a boat yard, for Antoine Beeson had not yet
+aspired to anything very grand in ship building. They pulled out the
+great fur rugs and hangings and put the one up and the other down, and
+Antoine coming in was so delighted with the homelikeness that he caught
+his betrothed about the waist and whirled her round and round.
+
+"Really, I think some day I shall learn to dance," and he gave his
+broad, hearty laugh that Marie had grown quite accustomed to.
+
+Madame De Ber looked amazed and severe.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+CHRISTMAS AND A CONFESSION.
+
+
+Ah, how the bells rang out on Christmas morning! A soft, muffled sound
+coming through the roofs of white snow that looked like peaked army
+tents, the old Latin melody that had rejoiced many a heart and carried
+the good news round the world.
+
+It was still dark when Jeanne heard Pani stirring, and she sprang out of
+bed.
+
+"I am going to church with you, Pani," she declared in a tone that left
+no demur.
+
+"Ah, child, if thou hadst listened to the good father and been
+confirmed, then thou mightst have partaken of the mass."
+
+Jeanne almost wished she had. But the schoolmaster had strengthened her
+opposition, or rather her dread, a little, quite unknowingly, and yet he
+had given her more reverence and a longing for real faith.
+
+"But I shall be thinking of the shepherds and the glad tidings. I
+watched the stars last night, they were so beautiful. 'And they came and
+stood over the place,' the schoolmaster read it to me. That was way over
+the other side of the world, Pani."
+
+The Indian woman shook her head. She was afraid of this strange
+knowledge, and she had a vague idea that it must have happened here in
+Detroit, since the Christ was born anew every year.
+
+The stars were not all gone out of the sky. The crisp snow crunched
+under their feet, although the moccasins were soft and warm; and
+everybody was muffled in furs, even to hoods and pointed caps. Some
+people were carrying lanterns, but they could find their way, straight
+along St. Anne's street. The bell kept on until they stood in the church
+porch.
+
+"Thou wilt sit here, child."
+
+Jeanne made no protest. She rather liked being hidden here in the
+darkness.
+
+There were the De Bers, then Marie and her lover, then Rose and Pierre.
+How much did dull Pierre believe and understand? The master's faith
+seemed simpler to her.
+
+A little later was the regular Christmas service with the altar decked
+in white and gold and the two fathers in their beautiful robes of
+rejoicing, the candlesticks that had been sent from France a century
+before, burnished to their brightest and the candles lighted. Behind the
+screen the sisters and the children sang hymns, and some in the
+congregation joined, though the men were much more at home in the music
+of the violins and in the jollity.
+
+Jeanne felt strangely serious, and half wished she was among the
+children. It was the fear of having to become a nun that deterred her.
+She could not understand how Berthe Campeau could leave her ailing
+mother and go to Montreal for religion's sake. Madame Campeau was not
+able to stand the journey even if she had wanted to go, but she and her
+sister had had some differences, and, since Berthe would go, her son's
+wife had kindly offered to care for her.
+
+"And what there is left thou shalt have, Catherine," she said to her
+daughter-in-law. "None of my money shall go to Montreal. It would be
+only such a little while for Berthe to wait. I cannot last long."
+
+So she had said for three years and Berthe had grown tired of waiting.
+Her imagination fed on the life of devotion and exaltation that her aunt
+wrote about.
+
+At noon Marie De Ber was married. She shivered a little in her white
+gown, for the church was cold. Her veil fell all over her and no one
+could see whether her face was joyful or not. Truth to tell, she was
+sadly frightened, but everybody was merry, and her husband wrapped her
+in a fur cloak and packed her in his sledge. A procession followed, most
+of them on foot, for there was to be a great dinner at Tony Beeson's.
+
+Then, although the morning had been so lovely, the sky clouded over with
+leaden gray and the wind came in great sullen gusts from Lake Huron. You
+could hear it miles away, a fierce roar such as the droves of bisons
+made, as if they were breaking in at your very door. Pani hung the
+bearskin against the door and let down the fur curtains over the
+windows. There was a bright log fire and Jeanne curled up on one side in
+a wolfskin, resting her head on a cushion of cedar twigs that gave out a
+pleasant fragrance. Pani sat quietly on the other side. There was no
+light but the blaze. Neither was the Indian woman used to the small
+industries some of the French took up when they had passed girlhood. In
+a slow, phlegmatic fashion she used to go over her past life, raising up
+from their graves, as it were, Madame de Longueil, Madame Bellestre, and
+then Monsieur, though he never came from the shadowy grave, but a garden
+that bore strange fruit, and where it was summer all the year round. She
+had the gift of obedient faith, so she was a good Catholic, as far as
+her own soul was concerned, but her duty toward the child often troubled
+her.
+
+Jeanne watched the blaze in a strange mood, her heart hot and angry at
+one moment, proud and indifferent at the next. She said a dozen times a
+day to herself that she didn't care a dead leaf for Marie, who had grown
+so consequential and haughty, and Rose, who was full of her own
+pleasure. It seemed as if other children had dropped out as well, but
+then in this cold weather she could not run out to the farms or lead a
+group of eager young people to see her do amazing feats. For she could
+walk out on the limb of a tree and laugh while it swung up and down with
+her weight, and then catch the limb of the next tree and fling herself
+over, amid their shouts. No boy dared climb higher. She had caught
+little owls who blinked at her with yellow eyes, but she always put them
+back in the trees again.
+
+"You wouldn't like to be carried away by fierce Indians," she said when
+the children begged they might keep them. "They like their homes and
+their mothers."
+
+"As if an owl could tell who its mother was!" laughed a boy
+disdainfully.
+
+She had hardly known the feeling of loneliness. What did she do last
+winter, she wondered? O yes, she played with the De Ber children, and
+there were the Pallents, whom she seldom went to visit now, they seemed
+so very ignorant. Ah--if it would come summer again!
+
+"For the trees and the flowers and the birds are better than most
+people," she ruminated. It must be because everybody had gone out of her
+life that it appeared wide and strange. After all she did not care for
+the De Bers and yet it seemed as if she had been stabbed to the heart.
+Pierre and Marie had pretended to care so much for her. Then, in spite
+of her sadness, she laughed.
+
+"What is it amuses thee so, little one?" asked the Indian woman.
+
+"I am not old enough to have a lover, Pani, am I?" and she looked out of
+her furry wrap.
+
+"No, child, no. What folly! Marie's wedding has set thee astray."
+
+"And Pierre is a slow, stupid fellow."
+
+"Pierre would be no match for thee, and I doubt if the De Bers would
+countenance such a thing if he were older. That is nonsense."
+
+"Pierre asked me to be his wife. He said twice that he wanted to marry
+me--at the raising of the flag, when we were on the water, and one
+Sunday in the autumn. I am not as old as Rose De Ber, even, so Marie
+need not feel set upon a pinnacle because Tony Beeson marries her when
+she is barely fifteen."
+
+"Jeanne!" Pani's tone was horror stricken. "And it will make no end of
+trouble. Madame De Ber is none too pleasant now."
+
+"It will make no trouble. I said 'no' and 'no' and 'no,' until it was
+like this mighty wind rushing through the forest, and he was very angry.
+So I should not go to the De Bers any more. And, Pani, if I had a father
+who would make me marry him when I was older, I should go and throw
+myself into the Strait."
+
+"His father sends him up in the fur country in the spring."
+
+"What makes people run crazy when weddings are talked of? But if I
+wanted to hold my head high and boast--"
+
+"Oh, child, you could not be so silly!"
+
+"No, Pani. And I shall be glad to have him go away. I do not want any
+lovers."
+
+The woman was utterly amazed, and then consoled herself with the thought
+that it was merely child's play. They both lapsed into silence again.
+But Jeanne's thoughts ran on. There was Louis Marsac. What if he
+returned next summer and tormented her? A perplexing mood, half pride,
+half disgust, filled her, and a serious elation at her own power which
+thrills young feminine things when they first discover it; as well as
+the shrinking into a new self-appropriation that thrusts out all such
+matters. But she did not laugh over Louis Marsac. She felt afraid of
+him, and she scrubbed her mouth where he had once kissed it.
+
+There was another kiss on her hand. She held it up in the firelight. Ah,
+if she had a father like M. St. Armand, and a brother like the young
+man!
+
+She was seized with an awful pang as if a swift, dark current was
+bearing her away from every one but Pani. Why had her father and mother
+been wrenched out of her life? She had seen a plant or a young shrub
+swept out of its rightful place and tossed to and fro until some
+stronger wave threw it upon the sandy edge, to droop and die. Was she
+like that? Where had she been torn from? She had been thrown into Pani's
+lap. She had never minded the little jeers before when the children had
+called her a wild Indian. Was she nobody's child?
+
+She had an impulse to jump about and storm around the room, to drag some
+secret out of Pani, to grasp the world in her small hands and compel it
+to disclose its knowledge. She looked steadily into the red fire and her
+heart seemed bursting with the breath that could not find an outlet.
+
+The bells began to ring again. "Come," "come," they said. Had she better
+not go to the sisters and live with them? The Church would be father and
+mother.
+
+She bent down her head and cried very softly, for it seemed as if all
+joy had gone out of her life. Pani fell asleep and snored.
+
+But the next morning the world was lovelier than ever with the new
+fallen snow. Men were shoveling it away from doorways and stamping it
+down in the streets with their great boots, the soles being wooden and
+the legs of fur. And they snowballed each other. The children joined and
+rolled in the snow. Now and then a daring young fellow caught a
+demoiselle and rubbed roses into her cheeks.
+
+All the rest of the week was given over to holiday life. There were
+great doings at the Citadel and in some of the grand houses. There were
+dances and dinners, and weddings so brilliant that Marie De Ber's was
+only a little rushlight in comparison.
+
+The master went down to Marietta for a visit. Jeanne seemed like a
+pendulum swinging this way and that. She was lonely and miserable. One
+day the Church seemed a refuge, the next she shrank with a sort of
+terror and longed for spring, as a drowning man longs for everything
+that promises succor.
+
+One morning Monsieur Loisel, the notary, came in with a grave and solemn
+mien.
+
+"I have news for thee, Pani and Mam'selle, a great word of sorrow, and
+it grieves me to be the bearer of it. Yet the good Lord has a right to
+his own, for I cannot doubt but that Madame Bellestre's intercession has
+been of some avail. And Monsieur Bellestre was an upright, honorable,
+kindly man."
+
+"Monsieur Bellestre is dead," said Pani with the shock of a sudden
+revelation.
+
+Jeanne stood motionless. Then he could never come back! And, oh, what if
+Monsieur St. Armand never came back!
+
+"Yes. Heaven rest his soul, say I, and so does the good Father Rameau.
+For his gift to the Church seems an act of faith."
+
+"And Jeanne?" inquired the woman tremblingly.
+
+"It is about the child I have come to talk. Monsieur Bellestre has made
+some provision for her, queerly worded, too."
+
+"Oh, he does not take her away from me!" cried the foster mother in
+anguish.
+
+"No. He had some strange notions not in accord with the Church, we all
+know, that liberty to follow one's opinion is a good thing. It is not
+always so in worldly affairs even, but of late years it has come largely
+in vogue in religious matters. And here is the part of his will that
+pertains to her. You would not understand the preamble, so I will tell
+it in plain words. To you, Pani, is given the house and a sum of money
+each year. To the child is left a yearly portion until she is sixteen,
+then, if she becomes a Catholic and chooses the lot of a sister, it
+ceases. Otherwise it is continued until she is married, when she is
+given a sum for a dowry. And at your death your income reverts to the
+Bellestre estate."
+
+"Monsieur Bellestre did not want me to become a nun, then?"
+
+Jeanne asked the question gravely as a woman.
+
+"It seems not, Mam'selle. He thinks some one may come to claim you, but
+that is hardly probable after all these years;" and there was a dryness
+in the notary's tone. "You are to be educated, but I think the sisters
+know better what is needful for a girl. There are no restrictions,
+however. I am to see that the will is carried out, and the new court is
+to appoint what is called a guardian. The money is to be sent to me
+every six months. It surely is a great shame Mam'selle has no male
+relatives."
+
+"Shall we have to change, Monsieur?" asked Pani with a dread in her
+voice.
+
+"Oh, no; unless Mam'selle should--" he looked questioningly at the girl.
+
+"I shall never leave Pani." She came and stretching up clasped her arms
+about the woman's neck as she had in her babyhood. "And I like to go to
+school to the master."
+
+"M. Bellestre counts this way, that you were three years old when you
+came to Detroit. That was nine years ago. And that you are twelve now.
+So there are four years--"
+
+"It looks a long while, but the past does not seem so. Why, last winter
+is like the turn of your hand," and she turned hers over with a smile.
+
+"Many things may happen in four years." No doubt she would have a lover
+and marry. "Let me go over it again."
+
+They both listened, Jeanne wide-eyed, Pani nodding her head slowly.
+
+"I must tell you that M. Bellestre left fifty pounds to Father Rameau
+for any purpose he considered best. And now the court will take it in
+hand, but these new American courts are all in confusion and very slow.
+Still, as there is to be no change, and the money will come through me
+as before, why, there will be no trouble."
+
+Pani nodded again but made no comment. She could hardly settle her mind
+to the fact of Monsieur Bellestre's death.
+
+"Allow me to congratulate you, Mam'selle, on having so sincere a
+friend." M. Loisel held out his hand.
+
+"If he had but come back! I do not care for the money."
+
+"Still, money is a very good thing. Well, we will have several more
+talks about this. Adieu, Mam'selle. My business is ended at present."
+
+He bowed politely as he went out; but he thought, "It is a crazy thing
+leaving her to the care of that old Indian woman. Surely he could not
+have distrusted Father Rameau? And though the good father is quite
+sure--well, it does not do for anyone to be too sure in this world."
+
+Father Rameau came that very afternoon and had a long talk with Pani. He
+did not quite understand why M. Bellestre should be so opposed to the
+Church taking charge of the child, since she was not in the hands of any
+relative. But he had promised Pani she should not be separated from her,
+indeed, no one had a better right to her, he felt.
+
+M. Bellestre's family were strong Huguenots, and had been made to suffer
+severely for their faith in Old France, and not a little in the new
+country. He had not cordially loved the English, but he felt that the
+larger liberty had been better for the settlement, and that education
+was the foe to superstition and bigotry, as well as ignorance. While he
+admitted to himself, and frankly to the town, the many excellencies of
+the priest, it was the system, that held the people in bondage and
+denied enlightenment, that he protested against. It was with great pain
+that he had discovered his wife's gradual absorption, but knowing death
+was at hand he could not deny her last request. But the child should
+choose for herself, and, if under Pani's influence she should become a
+Catholic, he would not demur. From time to time he had accounts from M.
+Loisel, and he had been pleased with the desire of the child for
+education. She should have that satisfaction.
+
+And now spring was coming again. The sense of freedom and rejoicing
+broke out anew in Jeanne, but she found herself restrained by some
+curious power that was finer than mere propriety. She was growing older
+and knowledge enlarged her thoughts and feelings, stirred a strange
+something within her that was ambition, though she knew it not; she had
+not grown accustomed to the names of qualities.
+
+The master was taking great pride in her, and gave her the few
+advantages within his reach. Detroit was being slowly remodeled, but it
+was discouraging work, since the French settlers were satisfied with
+their own ways, and looked with suspicion on improvements even in many
+simple devices for farming.
+
+With the fur season the town was in wild confusion and holiday jollity
+prevailed. There were Indians with packs; and the old race of the
+_coureurs des bois_, who were still picturesque with their red sashes
+and jaunty habiliments. They were wild men of the woods, who had thrown
+off the restraints of civilized life and who hunted as much for the
+pleasure as the profit. They could live in a wigwam, they could join
+Indian dances, they were brave, hardy, but in some instances savage as
+the Indians themselves and quite as lawless. A century ago they had been
+the pioneers of the fur hunters, with many a courageous explorer among
+them. The newer organizations of the fur companies had curtailed their
+power and their numbers had dwindled, but they kept up their wild
+habits, and this was the carouse of the whole year.
+
+It was a busy season. There was great chaffering, disputing, and not a
+few fights, though guards were detailed along the river front to keep
+the peace as far as was possible. Boats were being loaded for Montreal,
+cargoes to be shipped down the Hudson and from thence abroad, with mink
+and otter and beaver, beautiful fox furs, white wolf and occasionally a
+white bear skin that dealers would quarrel about.
+
+Then the stores of provisions to be sent back to the trappers and
+hunters, the clothes and blankets and trinkets for the Indians, kept
+shopkeepers busy day and night, and poured money into their coffers. New
+men were going out,--to an adventurous young fellow this seemed the
+great opportunity of his life.
+
+Jeanne Angelot's fortune had been noised abroad somewhat, though she
+paid little attention to it even in her thoughts. But she was a girl
+with a dowry now, and she was not only growing tall but strangely pretty
+as well. Her skin was fairer, her hair, which still fell in loose
+curls, was kept in better order. Coif she would not wear, but sometimes
+she tied a bright kerchief under her chin and looked bewitching.
+
+French mothers of sons were never averse to a dowry, although men were
+so in want of wives that few went begging for husbands. Women paused to
+chat with Pani and make kindly inquiries about her charge. Even Madame
+De Ber softened. She was opposed to Pierre's going north with the
+hunters, but he was so eager and his father considered it a good thing.
+And now he was a strapping big fellow, taller than his father, slowly
+shaping up into manhood.
+
+"Thou hast not been to visit Marie?" she said one day on meeting Jeanne
+face to face. "She has spoken of it. Last year you were such a child,
+but now you have quite grown and will be companionable. All the girls
+have visited her. Her husband is most excellent."
+
+"I have been busy with lessons," said Jeanne with some embarrassment.
+Then, with a little pride--"Marie dropped me, and if I were not to be
+welcome--"
+
+"Chut! chut! Marie had to put on a little dignity. A child like you
+should bear no malice."
+
+"But--she sent me no invitation."
+
+"Then I must chide her. And it will be pleasant down there in the
+summer. Do you know that Pierre goes back with the hunters?"
+
+"I have heard--yes."
+
+"It is not my wish, but if he can make money in his youth so much the
+better. And the others are growing up to fill his place. Good day to
+thee, Jeanne."
+
+That noon Madame De Ber said to her husband, "Jeanne Angelot improves
+greatly. Perhaps the school will do her no harm. She is rather sharp
+with her replies, but she always had a saucy tongue. A girl needs a
+mother to correct her, and Pani spoils her."
+
+"She will have quite a dowry, I have heard," remarked her husband.
+
+Pierre flushed a little at this pleasant mention of her name. If Jeanne
+only walked down in the town like some of the girls! If Rose might ask
+her to go!
+
+But Rose did not dare, and then there was Martin ready to waylay her.
+Three were awkward when you liked best to have a young man to yourself.
+
+How many times Pierre had watched her unseen, her lithe figure that
+seemed always atilt even when wrapped in furs, and her starry eyes
+gleaming out of her fur hood. Not even Rose could compare with her in
+that curious daintiness, though Pierre would have been at loss to
+describe it, since his vocabulary was limited, but he felt it in every
+slow beating pulse. He had resolved to speak, but she never gave him the
+opportunity. She flashed by him as if she had never known him.
+
+But he must say good-by to her. There was Madelon Dace, who had
+quarreled with her lover and gone to a dance with some one else and held
+her head high, never looking to the right or the left, and then as
+suddenly melted into sweetness and they would be married. Yet Madelon
+had said to his sister Marie, "I will never speak to him, never!" What
+had he done to offend Jeanne so deeply? Girls were not usually angered
+at a man falling in love with them.
+
+So Pierre's pack was made up. In the autumn they could send again. He
+took tea the last time with Marie. The boats were all ready to start up
+the Huron.
+
+He went boldly to the little cottage and said courageously to Pani,
+though his heart seemed to quake almost down to his feet, "I am going
+away at noon. I have come to say good-by to Jeanne--and to you," put in
+as an afterthought.
+
+"What a great fellow you are, Pierre! I wish you good luck. Jeanne--"
+
+Jeanne had almost forgotten her childish anger, and the love making was
+silly, even in remembrance.
+
+"Surely I wish thee good luck, Pierre," she said formally, with a smile
+not too warm about her rosy lips. "And a fortunate hunting and trading."
+
+"A safe return, Mam'selle, put that in," he pleaded.
+
+"A safe return."
+
+Then they shook hands and he went his way, thinking with great comfort
+that she had not flouted him.
+
+It was quite a great thing to see the boats go out. Sweethearts and
+wives congregated on the wharves. Some few brave women went with their
+husbands. Other ships were setting out for Montreal well loaded, and one
+or two were carrying a gay lot of passengers.
+
+After a few weeks, quiet returned, the streets were no longer crowded
+and the noisy reveling was over for a while. The farmers were busy out
+of doors, cattle were lowing, chanticleer rang out his call to work in
+the early morn, and busy hens were caroling in cheerful if unmusical
+voices. Trees budded into a beautiful haze and then sprang into leaf,
+into bloom. The rough social hilarity was over for a while.
+
+A few of the emigrant farmers laughed at the clumsy, wasteful French
+methods and tried their own, which were laughed at in turn, but there
+was little disputing.
+
+Easter had fallen early and it had been cold, but Whitsuntide made
+amends, and was, if anything, a greater festival. For a procession
+formed at St. Anne's, young girls in gala attire, smart, middle-aged
+women with new caps and kerchiefs, husbands and sons, and not a few
+children, and marched out of the Pontiac gate, as it was called in
+remembrance of the long siege. Forty years before Jacques Campeau had
+built the first little outside chapel on his farm, which had a great
+stretch of ground. The air was full of the fragrance of fruit blossoms
+and hardly needed incense. Ah, how beautiful it was in a sort of
+pastoral simplicity! And after saying mass, Father Frechette blessed and
+prayed for fertile fields and good crops and generous hearts that tithes
+might not be withheld, and the faithful rewarded. Then they went to the
+Fulcher farm, where, in a chapel not much more than a shrine, the
+service was again said with the people kneeling around in the grass. The
+farmers and good housewives placed more faith in this than in the
+methods of the newcomers with their American wisdom. But it was a
+pleasing service. The procession changed about a little,--the young men
+walking with the demoiselles and whispering in their listening ears.
+
+Jeanne was with them. Madame De Ber was quite gracious, and Marie Beeson
+singled her out. It had been a cold winter and a backward spring and
+Marie had not gone anywhere. Tony was so exigent, and she laughed and
+bridled. It was a very happy thing to be married and have some one care
+for you. And soon she would give a tea drinking and she would send for
+Jeanne, who must be sure to come.
+
+But Jeanne had a strange, dreary feeling. She seemed between everything,
+no longer a child and not a woman, not a part of the Church, not a part
+of anything. She felt afraid of the future. Oh, what was her share of
+the bright, beautiful world?
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+BLOOMS OF THE MAY.
+
+
+The spring came in with a quickening glory. A fortnight ago the snow was
+everywhere, the skaters were still out on the streams, the young fellows
+having rough snowballing matches, then suddenly one morning the white
+blanket turned a faint, sickly, soft gray, and withered. The pallid
+skies grew blue, the brown earth showed in patches, there were cheerful
+sounds from the long-housed animals, rivulets were all afloat running in
+haste to swell the streams, and from thence to the river and the lakes.
+
+The tiny rings of fir and juniper brightened, the pine branches swelled
+with great furry buds, bursting open into pale green tassels that moved
+with every breath of wind. The hemlocks shot out feathery fronds, the
+spruce spikes of bluish green, the maples shook around red blossoms and
+then uncurled tiny leaves. The hickories budded in a strange, pale
+yellow, but the oaks stood sturdy with some of the winter's brown leaves
+clinging to them.
+
+The long farms outside the stockade awoke to new vigor as well.
+Everybody set to work, for the summer heats would soon be upon them, and
+the season was short. There was a stir in the town proper, as well.
+
+And now, at mid-May, when some of the crops were in, there was a day of
+merrymaking, beginning with a procession and a blessing of the fields,
+and then the fiddles were taken down, for the hard work lasting well
+into the evening made both men and women tired enough to go to bed
+early, when their morning began in the twilight.
+
+The orchards were abloom and sweetened all the air. The evergreens sent
+out a resinous, pungent fragrance, the grass was odorous with the night
+dews. The maypole was raised anew, for generally the winter winds
+blowing fiercely over from the great western lake demolished it, though
+they always let it stand as long as it would, and in the autumn again
+danced about it. It had been the old French symbol of welcome and good
+wishes to their Seigneurs, as well as to the spring. And now it was a
+legend of past things and a merrymaking.
+
+The pole had bunches of flowers tied here and there, and long streamers
+that it was fun to jerk from some one's hand and let the wind blow them
+away. Girls and youths did this to rivals, with mischievous laughter.
+
+The habitans were in their holiday garb, which had hardly changed for
+two hundred years except when it was put by for winter furs, clean blue
+tunics, scarlet caps and sashes, deerskin breeches trimmed with yellow
+or brown fringe, sometimes both, leggings and moccasins with bead
+embroidery and brightly dyed threads.
+
+There were shopkeepers, too, there were boatmen and Indians, and some of
+the quality with their wives in satin and lace and gay brocades.
+Soldiers as well in their military gear, and officers in buff and blue
+with cocked hats and pompons.
+
+The French girls had put on their holiday attire and some had festooned
+a light skirt over one of cloth and placed in it a bright bow. Gowns
+that were family heirlooms, never seeing day except on some festive
+occasion, strings of beads, belts studded with wampum shells,
+high-heeled shoes with a great buckle or bow, but not as easy to dance
+in as moccasins.
+
+Two years had brought more changes to the individual, or rather the
+younger part of the community, than to the town. A few new houses had
+been built, many old ones repaired and enlarged a little. The streets
+were still narrow and many of them winding about. The greatest signs of
+life were at the river's edge. The newer American emigrant came for land
+and secured it outside. Every week some of the better class English who
+were not in the fur trade went to Quebec or Montreal to be under their
+own rulers.
+
+There was not an entire feeling of security. Since Pontiac there had
+been no great Indian leader, but many subordinate chiefs who were very
+sore over the treaties. There was an Indian prophet, twin brother to the
+chief Tecumseh who afterward led his people to a bloody war, who used
+his rude eloquence to unite the warring tribes in one nation by wild
+visions he foresaw of their greatness.
+
+Marauding tribes still harassed parties of travelers, but about Detroit
+they were peaceable; and many joined in the festivities of a day like
+this. While as farm laborers they were of little worth, they were often
+useful at the wharves, and as boatmen.
+
+Two years had brought a strange, new life to Jeanne, so imperceptibly
+that she was now a puzzle to herself. The child had disappeared, the
+growing girl she hardly knew. The wild feats that had once been the
+admiration of the children pleased her no longer. The children had grown
+as well. The boys tilled the fields with their fathers, worked in shops
+or on the docks, or were employed about the Fort. Some few, smitten with
+military ardor, were in training for future soldiers. The field for
+girls had grown wider. Beside the household employments there were
+spinning and sewing. The Indian women had made a coarse kind of lace
+worked with beads that the French maidens improved upon and disposed of
+to the better class. Or the more hoydenish ones delighted to work in the
+fields with their brothers, enjoying the outdoor life.
+
+For a year Jeanne had kept on with her master, though at spring a wild
+impulse of liberty threatened to sweep her from her moorings.
+
+"Why do I feel so?" she inquired almost fiercely of the master.
+"Something stifles me! Then I wish I had been made a bird to fly up and
+up until I had left the earth. Oh, what glorious thing is in the bird's
+mind when he can look into the very heavens, soaring out of sight?"
+
+"There is nothing in the bird's mind, except to find a mate, build a
+nest and rear some young; to feed them until they can care for
+themselves, and, though there is much romance about the mother bird,
+they are always eager to get rid of their offspring. He sings because
+God has given him a song, his language. But he has no thought of
+heaven."
+
+"Oh, he must have!" she cried passionately.
+
+The master studied her.
+
+"Art thou ready to die, to go out of the world, to be put into the dark
+ground?"
+
+"Oh, no! no!" Jeanne shuddered. "It is because I like to live, to
+breathe the sweet air, to run over the grass, to linger about the woods
+and hear all the voices. The pines have one tone, the hemlocks and
+spruces another, and the soft swish of the larches is like the last
+tender notes of some of the hymns I sing with the sisters occasionally.
+And the sun is so glorious! He clasps the baby leaves in his unseen
+hands and they grow, and he makes the blades of grass to dance for very
+joy. I catch him in my hands, too; I steep my face in the floods of
+golden light and all the air is full of stars. Oh, no, I would not,
+could not die! I would like to live forever. Even Pani is in no haste to
+die."
+
+"Thou art a strange child, surely. I have read of some such in books.
+And I wonder that the heaven of the nuns does not take more hold of
+thee."
+
+"But I do not like the black gowns, and the coifs so close over their
+ears, and the little rooms in which one is buried alive. For it seems
+like dying before one's time, like being half dead in a gay, glad world.
+Did not God give it to us to enjoy?"
+
+The master nodded. He wondered when she was in these strange moods. And
+he noticed that the mad pranks grew less, that there were days when she
+studied like a soul possessed, and paid little heed to those about her.
+
+But when a foreign letter with a great waxen seal came to her one day
+her delight knew no bounds. It was not a noisy joy, however.
+
+"Let us go out under the oak," she said to Pani.
+
+The children were playing about. Wenonah looked up from her work and
+smiled.
+
+"No, children," said Jeanne with a wave of the hand, "I cannot have you
+now. You may come to-morrow. This afternoon is all mine."
+
+It was a pleasant, grave, fatherly letter. M. St. Armand had found much
+to do, and presently he would go to England. Laurent was at a school
+where he should leave him for a year.
+
+"Listen," said Jeanne when they were both seated on the short turf that
+was half moss, "a grown man at school--is it not funny?" and she laughed
+gayly.
+
+"But there are young men sent to Quebec and Montreal, and to that
+southern town, New York. And young women, too. But I hope thou wilt know
+enough, Jeanne, without all this journeying."
+
+Pani studied her with great perplexity.
+
+"But he wants me to know many things--as if I were a rich girl! I know
+my English quite well and can read in it. And, Pani, how wonderful that
+a letter can talk as if one were beside you!"
+
+She read it over and over. Some words she wondered at. The great city
+with its handsome churches and gardens and walks and palaces, how
+beautiful it must be! It was remarkable that she had no longing, envious
+feeling. She was so full of delight there was no room.
+
+They sat still a long while. She patted the thin, brown hand, then laid
+her soft cheek on it or made a cradle of it for her chin.
+
+"Pani," she said at length, "how splendid it would be to have M. St.
+Armand for one's father! I have never cared for any girl's father, but
+M. St. Armand would be gentle and kind. I think, too, he could smooth
+away all the sort of cobweb things that haunt one's brain and the
+thoughts you cannot make take any shape but go floating like drifts in
+the sky, until you are lost in the clouds."
+
+Pani looked over toward the river. Like the master, the child's strange
+thoughts puzzled her, but she was afraid they were wrong. The master
+wished that she could be translated to some wider living.
+
+It took Jeanne several days to answer her letter, but every hour was one
+of exultant joy. It gave her hardly less delight than the reception of
+his. Then it was to be sent to New York by Monsieur Fleury, who had
+dealings back and forth.
+
+There had been a great wedding at the Fleury house. Madelon had married
+a titled French gentleman and gone to Montreal.
+
+"Oh!" cried Jeanne to Monsieur Fleury, "you will be very careful and not
+let it get lost. I took so much pains with it. And when it gets to New
+York--"
+
+"A ship takes it to France. See, child, there is all this bundle to go,
+and there are many valuable papers in it. Do not fear;" and he smiled.
+"But what has M. St. Armand to say to you?"
+
+"Oh, many things about what I should learn. I have already studied much
+that he asked me to, and he will be very glad to hear that."
+
+M. Fleury smiled indulgently, and Jeanne with a proud step went down the
+paved walk bordered with flowers, a great innovation for that time. But
+his wife voiced his thoughts when she said:--
+
+"Do you not think it rather foolish that Monsieur St. Armand should
+trouble his head about a child like that? No one knows to what sort of
+people she has belonged. And she will marry some habitan who cares
+little whether she can write a letter or not."
+
+"She will have quite a dowry. She ought to marry well. A little learning
+will not hurt her."
+
+"M. Bellestre must have known more than he confessed," with suspicion in
+her voice.
+
+M. Fleury nodded assentingly.
+
+Jeanne had been quite taken into Madame De Ber's good graces again. The
+money had worked wonders with her, only she did not see the need of it
+being spent upon an education. There was Pierre, who would be about the
+right age, but would she want Pierre to have that kind of a wife?
+
+Rose and Jeanne became very neighborly. Marie was a happy, commonplace
+wife, who really adored her rough husband, and was always extolling
+him. He had never learned to dance, but he was a swift skater, and could
+row with anybody in a match. Then there was a little son, not at all to
+Jeanne's liking, for he had a wide mouth and no nose to speak of.
+
+"He is not as pretty as Aurel," she said.
+
+"He will grow prettier," returned the proud grandmother, sharply.
+
+That autumn the old schoolmaster did not come back. Some other schools
+had been started. M. Loisel sounded his charge as to whether she would
+not go to Montreal to school, but she decisively declined.
+
+And now another spring had come, and Jeanne was a tall girl, but she
+would not put up her hair nor wear a coif. Father Rameau had been sent
+on a mission to St. Ignace. The new priest that came did not agree very
+well with Father Gilbert. He wanted to establish some Ursulines on a
+much stricter plan than the few sisters had been accustomed to, and
+there were bickerings and strained feelings. Beside, the Protestants
+were making some headway in the town.
+
+"It is not to be wondered at," said the new priest to many of his flock.
+"One could hardly tell what you are. There must be better regulations."
+
+"But we pay our tithes regularly. And Father Rameau--"
+
+"I am tired of Father Rameau!" said the priest angrily. "And the
+fiddling and the dancing!"
+
+"I do not like the quarreling," commented Jeanne. "And in the little
+chapel they all agree. They worship God, and not the Saints or the
+Virgin."
+
+"But the Virgin was a woman and is tender to us, and will intercede for
+us," interposed Pani.
+
+Jeanne went to the English school that winter but the children were not
+much to her mind.
+
+And now it was May, and Jeanne suddenly decided that she was tired of
+school.
+
+"Pierre has come home!" almost shouted Rose to the two sitting in the
+doorway. "And he is a big man with a heavy voice, and, would you
+believe, he fairly lifted mother off her feet, and she tried to box his
+ears, but could not, and we all laughed so. He will be at the Fete
+to-morrow."
+
+"Come, Pani," Jeanne said quite early, "we will hunt for some flowers.
+Susette Mass said we were to bring as many as we could."
+
+"But--there will be the procession and the blessings--"
+
+"And you will like that. Then we can be first to put some flowers on the
+shrines, maybe."
+
+That won Pani. So together they went. At the edge of the wood wild
+flowers had begun to bloom, and they gathered handfuls. Little maple
+trees just coming up had four tiny red leaves that looked like a
+blossom.
+
+There under a great birch tree was a small wooden temple with a
+weather-beaten cross on top, and on a shelf inside, raised a little from
+the ground, stood a plaster cast of the Virgin. Jeanne sprinkled the
+white blossoms of the wild strawberry all around. Pani knelt and said a
+little prayer.
+
+Susette Mass ran to meet them.
+
+"Oh, how early you are!" she cried. "And how beautiful! Where did you
+find so many flowers? Some must go to the chapel."
+
+"There will be plenty to give to the chapel. There is another shrine
+somewhere."
+
+"And they say you are not a good Catholic!"
+
+"I would like to be good. Sometimes I try," returned Jeanne, softly, and
+her eyes looked like a saint's, Susette thought.
+
+Pani led the way to the other shrine and while the child scattered
+flowers and stood in silent reverence, Pani knelt and prayed. Then the
+throng of gayly dressed girls and laughing young men were coming from
+several quarters and the procession formed amid much chattering.
+
+Afterward there were games of various sorts, tests of strength, running
+and jumping, and the Indian game of ball, which was wilder and more
+exciting than the French.
+
+"Oh, here you are!" exclaimed Rose De Ber. On one side was Martin
+Lavosse, a well-favored young fellow, and on the other a great giant, it
+seemed to Jeanne. For a moment she felt afraid.
+
+"Why, it isn't Jeanne Angelot?" Pierre caught both hands and almost
+crushed them, and looked into the deep blue eyes with such eagerness
+that the warm color flew to Jeanne's forehead. "Oh, how beautiful you
+have grown!"
+
+He bent down a little and uttered it in a whisper. Jeanne flushed and
+then was angry at herself for the rising color.
+
+Pierre was fascinated anew. More than once in the two years he had
+smiled at his infatuation for the wild little girl who might be half
+Indian so far as anyone knew. No, not half--but very likely a little.
+What a temper she had, too! He had nearly forgotten all her charms. Of
+course it had been a childish intimacy. He had driven her in his dog
+sledge over the ice, he had watched her climb trees to his daring, they
+had been out in his father's canoe when she _would_ paddle and he was
+almost afraid of tipping over. Really he had run risks of his life for
+her foolishness. And his foolishness had been in begging her to promise
+to marry him!
+
+He had seen quite a good deal of the world since, and been treated as a
+man. In his slow-thoughted fashion he saw her the same wild, willful,
+obstinate little thing. Rose was a young lady, that was natural, but
+Jeanne--
+
+"They are going to dance. Hear the fiddles! It is one of the great
+amusements up there," indicating the North with his head. "Only half the
+time you dance with boys--young fellows;" and he gave a chuckling laugh.
+"You see there is a scarcity of women. The Indian girls stand a good
+chance. Only a good many of the men have left wives and children at
+home."
+
+"Did you like it?" Jeanne asked with interest.
+
+Pierre shrugged his broad shoulders.
+
+"At first I hated it. I would have run away, but if I had come back to
+Detroit everybody would have laughed and my father would have beaten me.
+Now he looks me over as if he knew I was worth something. Why, I am
+taller than he! And I have learned a great deal about making money."
+
+They were done tuning up the violins and all the air was soft with the
+natural melody of birds and whispering winds. This was broken by a
+stentorian shout, and men and maids fell into places. Pierre grasped
+Jeanne's hand so tightly that she winced. With the other hand he caught
+one of the streamers. There was a great scramble for them. And when, as
+soon as the dancing was in earnest, a young fellow had to let his
+streamer go in turning his partner, some one caught it and a merry shout
+rang through the group.
+
+"How stupid you are!" cried Rose to Martin. "Why did you not catch that
+streamer? Now we are on the outside." She pouted her pretty lips. "Are
+you bewitched with Pierre and Jeanne?"
+
+"How beautifully she dances, and Pierre for a clumsy, big fellow is not
+bad."
+
+Hugh Pallent had caught a streamer and held out his hand to Rose.
+
+"Well, amuse yourself with looking at them, Monsieur," returned Rose
+pettishly. "As for me, I came to dance," and Pallent whisked her off.
+
+Martin's eyes followed them, other eyes as well.
+
+Pierre threw his streamer with a sleight of hand one would hardly have
+looked for, and caught it again amid the cheers of his companions. Round
+they went, only once losing their place in the whole circle. The violins
+flew faster, the dancing grew almost furious, eyes sparkled and cheeks
+bloomed.
+
+"I am tired," Jeanne said, and lagging she half drew Pierre out of the
+circle.
+
+"Tired! I could dance forever with you."
+
+"But you must not. See how the mothers are watching you for a chance,
+and the girls will be proud enough to have you ask them."
+
+"I am not going to;" shrugging his square shoulders.
+
+"Oh, yes, you are!" with a pretty air of authority.
+
+Jeanne saw envious eyes wandering in her direction. She did not know how
+she outshone most of the girls, with an air that was so different from
+the ordinary. Her white cotton gown had a strip of bright, curiously
+worked embroidery above the hem and around the square neck that gave her
+exquisite throat full play. The sleeves came to the elbow, and both
+hands and arms were beautiful. Her skin was many shades fairer, her
+cheeks like the heart of a rose, and her mouth dimpled in the corners.
+Her lithe figure had none of the squareness of the ordinary habitan, and
+every movement was grace itself.
+
+"If you will not dance, let us walk, then. I have so much to say--"
+
+"There will be all summer to say it in. And there is only one May dance.
+Susette!"
+
+Susette came with sparkling eyes.
+
+"This young man is dance bewitched. See how he has changed. We can
+hardly believe it is the Pierre we used to run races and climb trees
+with in nutting time. And he knows how to dance;" laughing.
+
+Pierre held out his hand, but there was a shade of reluctance in his
+eyes.
+
+"I thought you were never going to throw over that great giant," said
+Martin Lavosse. "I suppose every girl will go crazy about him because he
+has been up north and made some money. His father has planned to take
+him into business. Jeanne, dance with me."
+
+"No, not now. I am tired."
+
+"I should think you would be, pulled around at that rate. Look, Susette
+can hardly keep up, and her braids have tumbled."
+
+"Did I look like that?" asked Jeanne with sudden disapprobation in her
+tone.
+
+"Oh, no, no! You were like--like the fairies and wood things old Mere
+Michaud tells of. Your hair just floated around like a cloud full of
+twilight--"
+
+"No, the black ones when the thunderstorm is coming on," she returned
+mischievously.
+
+"It was beautiful and full of waves. And you are so straight and slim.
+You just floated."
+
+"And you watched me and lost your streamer twice. Rose did not like it."
+
+He was a little jealous and a little vexed at Rose giving him the go by
+in such a pointed manner. He would get even with her.
+
+"Why did you go off so early? We all went up for you."
+
+"I wanted to gather flowers for the shrines."
+
+"But we could have gone, too."
+
+"No, it would have been too late. It was such a pleasure to Pani. She
+can't dance, you know."
+
+"Let us walk around and see the tables."
+
+They were being spread out on the green sward, planks raised a foot or
+so, for every one would sit on the grass. Some of the Indian women had
+booths, and were already selling birch and sassafras beer, pipes and
+tobacco, and maple sugar. Little ones were running helter-skelter,
+tumbling down and getting up without a whimper. Here a knot of men were
+playing cards or dominoes. It was a pretty scene, and needed only
+cavaliers and the glittering, stately stepping dames to make it a
+picture of old France.
+
+They were all tired and breathless with the dance presently, and threw
+themselves around on the grass for a bit of rest. There was laughing and
+chattering, and bright eyes full of mirth sent coquettish glances first
+on this side, then on that. Susette had borne off her partner in triumph
+to see her mother, and there were old neighbors welcoming and
+complimenting Pierre De Ber.
+
+"Pierre," said a stout fellow banteringly, "you have shown us your
+improvement in dancing. As I remember you were a rather clumsy boy, too
+big for your years. Now they are going to try feats of skill and
+strength. After that we shall have some of the Indian women run a race.
+Monsieur De Ber, we shall be glad to count you in, if you have the
+daring to compete with the stay-at-homes."
+
+"For shame, Hugh! What kind of an invitation is that? Pierre, you do not
+look as if you had spent all your prowess in dancing;" glancing
+admiringly at the big fellow.
+
+"You will see. Give me a trial." Pierre was nettled at the first
+speaker's tone. "I have not been up on the Mich for nothing. You fellows
+think the river and Lake St. Clair half the world. You should see Lake
+Michigan and Lake Superior."
+
+"Yes, Pierre," spoke up another. "You used to be good on a jump. Come
+and try to distance us stay-at-homes, if you haven't grown too heavy."
+
+They were marking off a place for the jumping on a level, and at a short
+distance hurdles of different heights had been put up.
+
+Pierre had been the butt of several things in his boyish days, but,
+though a heavy lad, often excelled in jumping. The chaffing stirred his
+spirit. He would show what he could do. And Jeanne should see it. What
+did he care for Susette's shining eyes!
+
+Two or three supple young fellows, two older ones with a well-seasoned
+appearance, stood on the mark. Pierre eyed it.
+
+"No," he said, "it is not fair. I'm a sight heavier than those. And I
+won't take the glory from them. But if you are all agreed I'll try the
+other."
+
+"Why, man, the other is a deal harder."
+
+Pierre nodded indifferently.
+
+The first started like a young athlete; a running jump and it fell
+short. There was a great laugh of derision. But the second was more
+successful and a shout went up. The next one leaped over the mark. Four
+of them won.
+
+Rose was piqued that Martin should sit all this while on the grass
+chatting to Jeanne. She came around to them.
+
+"Pierre is going to jump," she announced. "I'm sorry, but they badgered
+him into it. They were really envious of his dancing."
+
+Jeanne rose. "I do wonder where Pani is!" she said. "Shall we go
+nearer?"
+
+"Oh, Pani is with the Indian women over there at the booths. No, stay,
+Jeanne," and Rose caught her hand. "Look! look! Why, they might almost
+be birds. Isn't it grand? But--Pierre--"
+
+She might have spared her anxiety. Pierre came over with a splendid
+flying leap, clearing the bar better than his predecessor. A wild shout
+went up and Pierre's hand was clasped and shaken with a hearty approval.
+The girls crowded around him, and all was noisy jollity. Jeanne simply
+glanced up and he caught her eye.
+
+"I have pleased her this time," he thought.
+
+The racing of the squaws, though some indeed were quite young girls, was
+productive of much amusement. This was the only trial that had a prize
+attached to it,--a beautiful blanket, for money was a scarce commodity.
+A slim, young damsel won it.
+
+"Jeanne," and Pierre bent over her, for, though she was taller than the
+average, he was head and almost shoulders above her, "Jeanne, you could
+have beaten them all."
+
+She flushed. "I do not run races anymore," she returned with dignity.
+
+He sighed. "That was a happy old time. How long ago it seems!
+Jeanne--are you glad to see me? You are so--so grave. And all the time I
+have been thinking of the child--I forgot you were to grow."
+
+Some one blew a horn long and loud that sent echoes among the trees a
+thousand times more beautiful than the sound itself. The tables, if they
+could be called that, were spread, and in no time were surrounded by
+merry, laughing, chatting groups, who brought with them the appetites of
+the woods and wilds, hardly leaving crumbs for the birds.
+
+After that there was dancing again and rambling around, and Pierre was
+made much of by the mothers. It was a proud day for Madame De Ber, and
+she glanced about among the girls to see whom of them she would choose
+for a daughter-in-law. For now Pierre could have his pick of them all.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+LOVE, LIKE THE ROSE, IS BRIERY.
+
+
+Jeanne Angelot sat in the doorway in the moonlight silvering the street.
+There were so many nooks and places in shadow that everything had a
+weird, fantastic look. The small garrison were quiet, and many of them
+asleep by nine o'clock. Early hours was the rule except in what were
+called the great houses. But in this out of the way nook few pedestrians
+ever passed in the evening.
+
+"Child, are you not coming to bed? Why do you sit there? You said you
+were tired."
+
+Pani was crooning over a handful of fire. The May sunshine had not
+penetrated all the houses, and her old blood had lost its heat.
+
+"Yes, I was. What with the dancing and the walking about and all I was
+very weary. I want to get rested. It is so quiet and lovely."
+
+"You can rest in bed."
+
+"I want to stay here a little while longer. Do not mind me, but go to
+bed yourself."
+
+The voice was tender, persuasive, but Pani did not stir. Now and then
+she felt uncertain of the child.
+
+"Was it not a happy day to you, _ma fille_?"
+
+"Yes," with soft brevity.
+
+Had it been happy? At different times during the past two years a
+curious something, like a great wave, had swept over her, bearing her
+away, yet slowly she seemed to float back. Only it was never quite the
+same--the shores, the woods, the birds, the squirrels, the deer that
+came and looked at her with unafraid eyes, impressed her with some new,
+inexplicable emotion. What meaning was behind them?
+
+But to-night she could not go back. She had passed the unknown boundary.
+Her limited knowledge could not understand the unfolding, the budding of
+womanhood, whose next change was blossoming. It had been a day of varied
+emotions. If she could have run up the hillside with no curious eyes
+upon her, sung with the birds, gathered great handfuls of daisies and
+bell flowers, tumbled up the pink and yellow fungus that grew around the
+tree roots, studied the bits of crisp moss that stood up like sentinels,
+with their red caps, and if you trod on them bristled up again, or if
+she could have climbed the trees and swung from branch to branch in the
+wavering flecks of sunshine as she did only such a little while ago, all
+would have been well. What was it restrained her? Was it the throng of
+people? She had enjoyed startling them with a kind of bravado. That was
+childhood. Ah, yes. Everybody grew up, and these wild antics no longer
+pleased. Oh, could she not go back and have it all over again?
+
+She had danced and laughed. Pierre had tried to keep her a good deal to
+himself, but she had been elusive as a golden mote dancing up and down.
+She seemed to understand what this sense of appropriating meant, and she
+did not like it.
+
+And then Martin Lavosse had been curious as well. Rose and he were not
+betrothed, and Rose was like a gay humming bird, sipping pleasure and
+then away. Madame De Ber had certainly grown less strict. But Martin was
+still very young and poor, and Rose could do better with her pretty
+face. Like a shrewd, experienced person she offered no opposition that
+would be like a breeze to a smoldering flame. There was Edouard Loisel,
+the notary's nephew, and even if he was one of the best fiddlers in
+town, he had a head for business as well, and was a shrewd trader. M.
+Loisel had no children of his own and only these two nephews, and if
+Edouard fancied Rose before Martin was ready to speak--so the mother had
+a blind eye for Rose's pretty coquetries in that direction; but Rose did
+not like to have Martin quite so devoted to any other girl as he seemed
+to be to Jeanne.
+
+Jeanne had not liked it at all. She had been good friends and comrades
+with the boys, but now they were grown and had curious ideas of holding
+one's hand and looking into one's eyes that intensified the new feeling
+penetrating every pulse. If only she might run away somewhere. If Pani
+were not so old they would go to the other side of the mountain and
+build a hut and live together there. She did not believe the Indians
+would molest them. Anything to get away from this strange burthen
+pressing down upon her that she knew not was womanhood, and be free once
+more.
+
+She rose presently and went in. Pani was a heap in the chimney corner,
+she saw her by the long silver ray that fell across the floor.
+
+"Pani! Pani!" she cried vehemently.
+
+Her arms were around the neck and the face was lifted up, kissed with a
+fervor she had never experienced before.
+
+"My little one! my little one!" sighed the woman.
+
+"Come, let us go to bed." There was an eagerness in the tone that
+comforted the woman.
+
+The next morning Detroit was at work betimes. There was no fashion of
+loitering then; when the sun flung out his golden arrows that dispelled
+the night, men and women were cheerfully astir.
+
+"I must go and get some silk for Wenonah; she has some embroidery to
+finish for the wife of one of the officers," exclaimed Jeanne. "And then
+I will take it to her."
+
+So if Pierre dropped in--
+
+There were some stores down on St. Louis street where the imported goods
+from Montreal and Quebec were kept. Laces and finery for the quality,
+silks and brocades, hard as the times were. Jeanne tripped along gayly.
+She would be happy this morning anyhow, as if she was putting off some
+impending evil.
+
+"Take care, child! Ah, it is Jeanne Angelot. Did I run over thee, or
+thou over me?" laughing. "I have not on my glasses, but I ought to see a
+tall slip of a girl like thee."
+
+"Pardon, Monsieur. I was in haste and heedless."
+
+"I have something for thee that will gladden thy heart--a letter. Let me
+see--" beginning to search his pockets, and then taking out a great
+leathern wallet. "No?" staring in surprise. "Then I must have left it on
+my desk at home. Canst thou spend time to run up and get it?"
+
+"Oh, gladly." The words had a ring of joy that touched the man's heart.
+
+"It is well, Mam'selle, that it comes from the father, since it is
+received with such delight."
+
+She did not catch the double meaning. Indeed, Laurent was far from her
+thoughts.
+
+"Thank you a thousand times," with her radiant smile, and he carried the
+bright face into his dingy warehouse.
+
+She went on her way blithe as the gayest bird. A letter from M. St.
+Armand! It had been so long that sometimes she was afraid he might be
+dead, like M. Bellestre. The birds were singing. "A letter," they
+caroled; "a letter, a l-e-t-t-e-r," dwelling on every sound with
+enchanting tenderness.
+
+The old Fleury house overlooked the military garden to the west, and the
+river to the east. There had been an addition built to it, a wing that
+placed the hall in the middle. It was wide, and the door at each end was
+set open. At the back were glimpses of all kinds of greenery and the
+fragrance of blossoming shrubs. A great enameled jar stood midway of the
+hall and had in it a tall blooming rose kept through the winter indoors,
+a Spanish rose growing wild in its own country. The floor was polished,
+the fur rugs had been stowed away, and the curious Indian grass mats
+exhaled a peculiar fragrance. A bird cage hung up high and its inmate
+was warbling an exquisite melody. Jeanne stood quite still and a sense
+of harmonious beauty penetrated her, gave her a vague impression of
+having sometime been part and parcel of it.
+
+"What is it?" demanded the Indian servant. There were very few negroes
+in Detroit, and although there were no factories or mills, French girls
+seldom hired out for domestics.
+
+"Madame Fleury--Monsieur sent me for a letter lying on his desk," Jeanne
+said in a half hesitating manner.
+
+The servant stepped into the room to consult her mistress. Then she said
+to Jeanne:--
+
+"Walk in here, Mademoiselle."
+
+The room was much more richly appointed than the hall, though the
+polished floor was quite bare. A great high-backed settee with a carved
+top was covered with some flowered stuff in which golden threads
+shimmered; there was a tall escritoire going nearly up to the ceiling,
+the bottom with drawers that had curious brass handles, rings spouting
+out of a dragon's mouth. There were glass doors above and books and
+strange ornaments and minerals on the shelves. On the high mantel, and
+very few houses could boast them, stood brass candlesticks and vases of
+colored glass that had come from Venice. There were some quaint
+portraits, family heirlooms ranged round the wall, and chairs with
+carved legs and stuffed backs and seats.
+
+On a worktable lay a book and a piece of lace work over a cushion full
+of pins. By it sat a young lady in musing mood.
+
+She, too, said, "What is it?" but her voice had a soft, lingering
+cadence.
+
+Jeanne explained meeting M. Fleury and his message, but her manner was
+shy and hesitating.
+
+"Oh, then you are Jeanne Angelot, I suppose?" half assertion, half
+inquiry.
+
+"Yes, Mademoiselle," and she folded her hands.
+
+"I think I remember you as a little child. You lived with an Indian
+woman and were a"--no, she could not say "foundling" to this beautiful
+girl, who might have been born to the purple, so fine was her figure,
+her air, the very atmosphere surrounding her.
+
+"I was given to her--Pani. My mother had died," she replied, simply.
+
+"Yes--a letter. Let me see." She rose and went through a wide open
+doorway. Jeanne's eyes followed her. The walls seemed full of arms and
+hunting trophies and fishing tackle, and in the center of the room a
+sort of table with drawers down one side.
+
+"Yes, here. 'Mademoiselle Jeanne Angelot.'" She seemed to study the
+writing. She was quite pretty, Jeanne thought, though rather pale, and
+her silken gown looped up at the side with a great bow of ribbon, fell
+at the back in a long train. Her movements were so soft and gliding that
+the girl was half enchanted.
+
+"You still live with--with the woman?"
+
+"M. Bellestre gave her the house. It is small, but big enough for us
+two. Yes, Mademoiselle. Thank you," as she placed the letter in Jeanne's
+hand, and received in return an enchanting smile. With a courtesy she
+left the room, and walked slowly down the path, trying to think. Some
+girl, for there was gossip even in those days, had said that Mam'selle's
+lover had proved false to her, and married some one else in one of the
+southern cities. Jeanne felt sorry for her.
+
+Lisa Fleury wondered why so much beauty had been given to a girl who
+could make no use of it.
+
+Jeanne hugged her letter to her heart. It had been so long, so long that
+she felt afraid she would never hear again. She wanted to run every step
+of the way, last summer she would have. She almost forgot Wenonah and
+the silk, then laughed at herself, and outside of the palisades she did
+run.
+
+"You are so good," Wenonah said. "Look at this embroidery,--is it not
+grand? And that I used to color threads where now I can use beautiful
+silk. It shines like the sun. The white people have wonderful ways."
+
+Jeanne laughed and opened her letter. She could wait no longer. Oh,
+delightful news! She laughed again in sheer delight, soft, rippling
+notes.
+
+"What is it pleases thee so, Mam'selle?"
+
+"It is my friend who comes back, the grand Monsieur with the beautiful
+white beard, for whose sake I learned to write. I am glad I have learned
+so many things. By another spring he will be here!"
+
+Then Jeanne forgot the somber garment of womanhood that shadowed her
+last night, and danced in the very gladness of her heart. Wenonah smiled
+and then sighed. What if this man of so many years should want to marry
+the child? Such things had been. And there was that fine young De Ber
+just come home. But then, a year was a good while.
+
+"I must go and tell Pani," and she was off like a bird.
+
+Oh, what a glad day it was! The maypole and the dancing were as nothing
+to it. After she had told over her news and they had partaken of a
+simple meal, she dragged the Indian woman off to her favorite haunt in
+the woods, where three great tree boles made a pretty shelter and where
+Pani always fell asleep.
+
+Bees were out buzzing, their curious accompaniment to their work. Or
+were they scolding because flowers were not sweeter? Yellow butterflies
+made a dazzle in the air, that was transparent to-day. The white birches
+were scattering their last year's garments, and she gathered quite a
+roll. Ah, what a wonderful thing it was to live and breathe this
+fragrant air! It exhilarated her with joy as drinking wine might
+another. The mighty spirit of nature penetrated every pulse.
+
+From a little farther up she could see the blue waters, and the distant
+horizon seemed to bound the lake. Would she ever visit the grand places
+of the world? What was a great city such as Quebec like? Would she stay
+here for years and years and grow old like Pani? For somehow she could
+not fancy herself in a home with a husband like Marie Beeson, or Madelon
+Freche, or several of the girls a little older than herself. The
+commonplaces of life, the monotonous work, the continual admiration and
+approval of one man who seemed in no way admirable would be slow death.
+
+"Which is a warning that I must not get married," she thought, and her
+gay laugh rippled under the trees in soft echoes.
+
+She felt more certain of her resolve that evening when Pierre came.
+
+"Where were you all the afternoon?" he said, almost crossly. "I was here
+twice. I felt sure you would expect me."
+
+Jeanne flushed guiltily. She knew she had gone to escape such an
+infliction, and she was secretly glad, yet somehow her heart pricked
+her.
+
+"Oh, you surely have not forgotten that I live half the time in the
+woods;" glancing up mischievously.
+
+"Haven't you outgrown that? There was enough of it yesterday," he said.
+
+"You ought not to complain. What a welcome you had, and what a triumph,
+too!"
+
+"Oh, that was not much. You should see the leaping and the wrestling up
+north. And the great bounds with the pole! That's the thing when one has
+a long journey. And the snowshoes--ah, that is the sport!"
+
+"You liked it up there?"
+
+"I was desperately homesick at first. I had half a mind to run away. But
+when I once got really used to the people and the life--it was the
+making of me, Jeanne."
+
+He stretched up proudly and swelled up his broad chest, enjoying his
+manhood.
+
+"You will go back?" she asked, tentatively.
+
+"Well--that depends. Father wants me to stay. He begins to see that I am
+worth something. But pouf! how do people live in this crowded up town in
+the winter! It is dirtier than ever. The Americans have not improved it
+much. You see there is Rose and Angelique, before Baptiste, and he is
+rather puny, and father is getting old. Then, I could go up north every
+two or three years. Well, one finds out your worth when you go away."
+
+He gave a loud, rather exultant laugh that jarred on Jeanne. Why were
+these rough characteristics so repellant to her? She had lived with them
+all her short life. From whence came the other side of her nature that
+longed for refinement, cultivated speech, and manners? And people of
+real education, not merely the business faculty, the figuring and
+bargain making, were more to her taste. M. Fleury was a gentleman, like
+M. St. Armand.
+
+Pierre stretched out his long legs and crossed his feet, then slipped
+his hands into his pockets. He seemed to take up half the room.
+
+"What have you been doing all the time I was away?" he said, when the
+awkwardness of the silence began to oppress him.
+
+Jeanne made a little crease in her forehead, and a curl came to the rose
+red lip.
+
+"I went to school until Christmas, then there was no teacher for a
+while. And when spring was coming I decided not to go back. I read at
+home. I have some books, and I write to improve myself. I can do it
+quite well in English. Then there is some one at the Fort, a sort of
+minister, who has a class down in the town, St. Louis street, and I go
+there."
+
+"Is the minister a Catholic?"
+
+"No," she answered, briefly.
+
+"That is bad." He shook his head disapprovingly. "But you go to church?"
+
+"There is a little chapel and I like the talk and the singing. I know
+two girls who go there. Sometimes I go with Pani to St. Anne's."
+
+"But you should go all the time, Jeanne. Religion is especially for
+women. They have the children to bring up and to pray for their
+husbands, when they are on voyages or in dangers."
+
+Pierre delivered this with an unpleasant air of masculine authority
+which Jeanne resented in her inmost soul. So she exclaimed rather
+curtly:--
+
+"We will not discuss religion, Monsieur Pierre."
+
+The young man looked amazed. He gave the fringe on his deerskin legging
+a sharp twitch.
+
+"You are still briery, Mam'selle. And yet you are so beautiful that you
+ought to be gentle as well."
+
+"Why do people want to tell me that I am beautiful? Do they not suppose
+I can see it?" Jeanne flung out, impatiently.
+
+"Because it is a sweet thing to say what the speaker feels. And beauty
+and goodness should go hand in hand."
+
+"I am for myself alone;" she returned, proudly. "And if I do not suit
+other people they may take the less of me. There are many pretty girls."
+
+"Oh, Mam'selle," he exclaimed, beseechingly, "do not let us quarrel
+immediately, when I have thought of you so often and longed to see you
+so much! And now that my mother says pleasant things about you--she is
+not so opposed to learning since Tony Beeson has been teaching Marie to
+read and write and figure--and we are all such friends--"
+
+Ah, if they could remain only friends! But Jeanne mistrusted the outcome
+of it.
+
+"Then tell me about the great North instead of talking foolishness; the
+Straits and the wonderful land of snow beyond, and the beautiful
+islands! I like to hear of countries. And, Pierre, far to the south
+flowers bloom and fruit ripens all the year round, luscious things that
+we know nothing about."
+
+Pierre's descriptive faculties were not of a high order. Still when he
+was once under way describing some of the skating and sledging matches
+he did very well, and in this there was no dangerous ground.
+
+The great bell at the Fort clanged out nine.
+
+"It is time to go," Jeanne exclaimed, rising. "That is the signal. And
+Pani has fallen asleep."
+
+Pierre rose disconcerted. The bright face was merry and friendly, that
+was all. Yesterday other girls had treated him with more real warmth and
+pleasure. But there was a certain authority about her not to be
+gainsaid.
+
+"Good night, then," rather gruffly.
+
+"He loves thee, _ma mie_. Hast thou no pity on him?" said Pani, looking
+earnestly at the lovely face.
+
+"I do not want to be loved;" and she gave a dissentient, shivering
+motion. "It displeases me."
+
+"But I am old. And when I am gone--"
+
+The pathetic voice touched the girl and she put her arms around the
+shrunken neck.
+
+"I shall not let you go, ever. I shall try charms and get potions from
+your nation. And then, M. St. Armand is to come. Let us go to bed. I
+want to dream about him."
+
+One of the pitiful mysteries never to be explained is why a man or a
+woman should go on loving hopelessly. For Pierre De Ber had loved Jeanne
+in boyhood, in spite of rebuffs; and there was a certain dogged tenacity
+in his nature that fought against denial. A narrow idea, too, that a
+girl must eventually see what was best for her, and in this he gained
+Pani's sympathy and good will for his wooing.
+
+He was not to be easily daunted. He had improved greatly and gained a
+certain self-reliance that at once won him respect. A fine, tall fellow,
+up in business methods, knowing much of the changes of the fur trade,
+and with shrewdness enough to take advantage where it could be found
+without absolute dishonesty, he was consulted by the more cautious
+traders on many points.
+
+"Thou hast a fine son," one and another would say to M. De Ber; and the
+father was mightily gratified.
+
+There were many pleasures for the young people. It was not all work in
+their lives. Jeanne joined the parties; she liked the canoeing on the
+river, the picnics to the small islands about, and the dances often
+given moonlight evenings on the farms. For never was there a more
+pleasure loving people with all their industry. And then, indeed, simple
+gowns were good enough for most occasions.
+
+Jeanne was ever on the watch not to be left alone with Pierre. Sometimes
+she half suspected Pani of being in league with the young man. So she
+took one and another of the admirers who suited her best, bestowing her
+favors very impartially, she thought, and verging on the other hand to
+the subtle dangers of coquetry. What was there in her smile that should
+seem to summon one with a spell of witchery?
+
+Madame De Ber was full of capricious moods as well. She loved her son,
+and was very proud of him. She selected this girl and that, but no, it
+was useless.
+
+"He has no eyes for anyone but Jeanne," declared Rose half angrily, sore
+at Martin's defection as well, though she was not sure she wanted him.
+"She coquets first with one, then with another, then holds her head
+stiffly above them all. And at the Whitsun dance there was a young
+lieutenant who followed her about and she made so much of him that I was
+ashamed of her for a French maid."
+
+Rose delivered herself with severe dignity, though she had been very
+proud to dance with the American herself.
+
+"Yes, I wish Pierre would see some charm elsewhere. He is old enough now
+to marry. And Jeanne Angelot may be only very little French, though her
+skin has bleached up clearer, and she puts on delicate airs with her
+accent. She will not make a good wife."
+
+"You are talking of Jeanne," and the big body nearly filled the window,
+that had no hangings in summer, and the sash was swung open for air.
+Pierre leaned his elbows on the sill, and his face flushed deeply. "You
+do not like her, I know, but she is the prettiest girl in Detroit, and
+she has a dowry as well."
+
+"And that has a tint of scandal about it," rejoined the mother
+scornfully.
+
+"But Father Rameau disproved that. And, whatever she is, even if she
+were half Indian, I love her! I have always loved her. And I shall marry
+her, even if I have to take her up north and spend my whole life there.
+I know how to make money, and we shall do well enough. And that will be
+the upshot if you and my father oppose me, though I think it is more you
+and Rose."
+
+"Did ever a French son talk so to his mother before? If this is northern
+manners and respect--"
+
+Madame De Ber dropped into a chair and began to cry, and then, a very
+unusual thing it must be confessed, went into hysterics.
+
+"Oh, you have killed her!" screamed Rose.
+
+"She is not dead. Dead people do not make such a noise. Maman, maman,"
+the endearing term of childhood, "do not be so vexed. I will be a good
+son to you always, but I cannot make myself miserable by marrying one
+woman when I love another;" and he kissed her fondly, caressing her with
+his strong hands.
+
+The storm blew over presently. That evening when Pere De Ber heard the
+story he said, a little gruffly: "Let the boy alone. He is a fine son
+and smart, and I need his help. I am not as stout as I used to be. And,
+Marie, thou rememberest that thou wert my choice and not that of any
+go-between. We have been happy and had fine children because we loved
+each other. The girl is pretty and sweet."
+
+They came to neighborly sailing after a while. Jeanne knew nothing of
+the dispute, but one day on the river when Martin's canoe was keeping
+time with hers, and he making pretty speeches to her, she said:--
+
+"It is not fair nor right that you should pay such devotion to me,
+Martin. Rose does not like it, and it makes bad friends. And I think you
+care for her, so it is only a jealous play and keeps me uncomfortable."
+
+"Rose does not care for me. She is flying at higher game. And if she
+cannot succeed, I will not be whistled back like a dog whose master has
+kicked him," cried the young fellow indignantly.
+
+"Rose has said I coquetted with you," Jeanne exclaimed with a roseate
+flush and courageous honesty.
+
+"I wish it was something more. Jeanne, you are the sweetest girl in all
+Detroit."
+
+"Oh, no, Martin, nor the prettiest, nor the girl who will make the best
+wife. And I do not want any lovers, nor to be married, which, I suppose,
+is a queer thing. Sometimes I think I will stay in the house altogether,
+but it is so warm and gets dreary, and out-of-doors is so beautiful with
+sunshine and fragrant air. But if I cannot be friends with anyone--"
+
+"We will be friends, then," said Martin Lavosse.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+PIERRE.
+
+
+When Madame De Ber found that Pierre was growing moody and dispirited
+and talked of going up north again, her mother's heart relented.
+Moreover, she could not but see that Jeanne was a great favorite in
+spite of her wild forest ways and love of solitude with a book in hand.
+Her little nook had become a sort of court, so she went there no more,
+for some one was sure to track her. And the great oak was too well
+known. She would drop down the river and fasten her canoe in some
+sheltered spot, and finding a comfortable place sit and read or dream.
+The chapel parson was much interested in her and lent her some wonderful
+books,--a strange story in measured lines by one John Milton, and a
+history of France that seemed so curious to her she could hardly believe
+such people had lived, but the parson said it was all true and that
+there were histories of many other countries. But she liked this because
+Monsieur St. Armand had gone there.
+
+Yet better than all were the dreams of his return. She could see the
+vessel come sailing up the beautiful river and the tall, fine figure
+with the long, silken beard snowy white, and the blue eyes, the smiling
+mouth, hear the voice that had so much music in it, and feel the clasp
+of the hand soft as that of any of the fine ladies. Birds sang and
+insects chirped, wild ducks and swans chattered to their neighbors, and
+great flocks made a dazzle across the blue sky. Some frogs in marshy
+places gave choruses in every key, but nothing disturbed her.
+
+What then?
+
+Something different would come to her life. An old Indian squaw had told
+her fortune a year agone. "You will have many lovers and many
+adventures," she said, "and people coming from far to claim you, but you
+will not go with them. And then another old man, like a father, will
+take you over the seas and you will see wonderful things and get a
+husband who will love you."
+
+What if M. St. Armand should want to take her over the sea? She did not
+belong to anybody; she knew that now, and at times it gave her a
+mortifying pain. Some of the ladies had occasionally noticed her and
+talked with her, but she had a quick consciousness that they did not
+esteem her of their kind. She liked the lovely surroundings of their
+lives, the rustle of their gowns, the glitter of the jewels some of them
+wore, their long, soft white fingers, so different from the stubby hands
+of the habitans. Hers were slim, with pink nails that looked like a bit
+of shell, but they were not white. Perhaps there was a little Indian
+blood that made her so lithe and light, able to climb trees, to swim
+like a fish, and gave her this great love for the wide out-of-doors.
+
+It was hot one afternoon, and she would not go out anywhere. The chamber
+window overlooked the garden, where flowers and sweet herbs were
+growing, and every whiff of wind sent a shower of fragrance within. She
+had dropped her book and gone to dreaming. Pani sat stringing beads for
+some embroidery--or perhaps had fallen into a doze.
+
+There was a step and a cordial "_bon soir_." Jeanne roused at the voice.
+
+"I am glad to find you in, Pani. It is well that you have not much house
+to keep, for then you could not go out so often."
+
+"No. Be seated, Madame, if it please you."
+
+"Yes. I want a little talk about the child, Pani. Monsieur De Ber has
+been in consultation with the notary, M. Loisel, and has laid before him
+a marriage proposal from Pierre. He could see no objections. I did think
+I would like a little more thrift and household knowledge in my son's
+wife, but I am convinced he will never fancy anyone else, and he will be
+well enough fixed to keep a maid, though they are wasteful trollops and
+not like your own people, Pani. And Jeanne has her dowry. Since she has
+no mother or aunt it is but right to consult you, and I know you have
+been friendly to Pierre. It will be a very good marriage for her, and I
+have come to say we are all agreed, and that the betrothal may take
+place as soon as she likes."
+
+Jeanne had listened with amazement and curiosity to the first part of
+the speech and the really pleasant tone of voice. Now she came forward
+and stood in the doorway, her slim figure erect, her waving hair falling
+over her beautiful shoulders, her eyes with the darkness of night in
+them, but the color gone out of her cheeks with the great effort she was
+making to keep calm.
+
+"Madame De Ber," she began, "I could not help hearing what you said. I
+thank you for your kindly feelings toward your son's wishes, but before
+any further steps are taken I want to say that a betrothal is out of the
+question, and that there can be no plan of marriage between us."
+
+"Jeanne Angelot!" Madame's eyes flashed with yellow lights and her black
+brows met in a frown.
+
+"I am sorry that Pierre loves me. I told him long ago, before he went
+away, when we were only children, that I could not be his wife. I tried
+to evade him when he came back, and to show him how useless his hopes
+were. But he would not heed. Even if you had liked and approved me,
+Madame, I might have felt sorrier, but that would not have made me love
+him."
+
+"And, pray, what is the matter with Pierre? He may not be such a gallant
+dancing Jack as the young officer, or a marvelous fiddler like M.
+Loisel's nephew, who I hear has been paying court to you. Mam'selle
+Jeanne Angelot, you have made yourself the talk of the town, and you may
+be glad to have a respectable man marry you."
+
+"Oh, if I were the talk of the town I care too much for Pierre to give
+him such a wife. I would take no man's love when I could not return it.
+And I do not love Pierre. I think love cannot be made, Madame, for if
+you try to make it, it turns to hate. I do not love anyone. I do not
+want to marry!"
+
+"Thou hast not the mark of an old maid, and some day it may fare worse
+with thee!" the visitor flung out angrily.
+
+Jeanne's face blazed at the taunt. A childish impulse seized her to
+strike Madame in the very mouth for it. She kept silence for some
+seconds until the angry blood was a little calmer.
+
+"I trust the good God will keep me safe, Madame," she said tremulously,
+every pulse still athrob. "I pray to him night and morning."
+
+"But thou dost not go to confession or mass. Such prayers of thine own
+planning will never be heard. Thou art a wicked girl, an unbeliever. I
+would have trained thee in the safe way, and cared for thee like a
+mother. But that is at an end. Now I would not receive thee in my house,
+if my son lay dying."
+
+"I shall not come. Do not fear, Madame. And I am truly sorry for Pierre
+when there are so many fine girls who would be glad of a nice husband. I
+hope he will be happy and get some one you can all love."
+
+Madame was speechless. The soft answer had blunted her weapons. Jeanne
+turned away, glided into the chamber and the next instant had leaped out
+of the window. There was a grassy spot in the far corner of the garden,
+shaded by their neighbor's walnut tree. She flung herself down upon it,
+and buried her face in the cool grass.
+
+"My poor son! my poor son!" moaned Madame. "She has no heart, that
+child! She is not human. Pani, it was not a child the squaw dropped in
+your arms, it was--"
+
+"Hush! hush!" cried Pani, rising and looking fierce as if she might
+attack Madame. "Do not utter it. She was made a Christian child in the
+church. She is sweet and good, and if she cannot love a husband, the
+saints and the holy Mother know why, and will forgive her."
+
+"My poor Pierre! But she is not worth his sorrow. Only he is so
+obstinate. Last night he declared he would never take a wife while she
+was single. And to deprive him of happiness! To refuse when I had
+sacrificed my own feelings and meant to be a mother to her! No, she is
+not human. I pity you, Pani."
+
+Then Madame swept out of the door with majestic dignity. Pani clasped
+her arms about her knees and rocked herself to and fro, while the old
+superstitions and weird legends of her race rushed over her. The mother
+might have died, but who was the father? There was some strange blood in
+the child.
+
+"Heaven and the saints and the good God keep watch over her!" she prayed
+passionately. Then she ran out into the small yard.
+
+"Little one, little one--" her voice was tremulous with fear.
+
+Jeanne sprang up and clasped her arms about Pani's neck. How warm and
+soft they were. And her cheek was like a rose leaf.
+
+"Pani," between a cry and a laugh, "do lovers keep coming on forever?
+There was Louis Marsac and Pierre, and Martin Lavosse angry with Rose,
+and"--her cheek was hot now against Pani's cool one, throbbing with
+girlish confusion.
+
+"Because thou art beautiful, child."
+
+"Then I wish I were ugly. Oh, no, I do not, either." Would M. St. Armand
+like her so well if she were ugly? "Ah, I do not wonder women become
+nuns--sometimes. And I am sincerely sorry for Pierre. I suppose the De
+Bers will never speak to me again. Pani, it is growing cooler now, let
+us go out in the woods. I feel stifled. I wish we had a wigwam up in the
+forest. Come."
+
+Pani put away her work.
+
+"Let us go the other way, the _chemin du ronde_, to the gate. Rose may
+be gossiping with some of the neighbors."
+
+They walked down that way. There was quite a throng at King's wharf.
+Some new boats had come in. One and another nodded to Jeanne; but just
+as she was turning a hand touched her arm, too lightly to be the jostle
+of the throng. She was in no mood for familiarities, and shook it off
+indignantly.
+
+"Mam'selle Jeanne Angelot," a rather rich voice said in a laughing tone.
+
+She guessed before she even changed the poise of her head. What cruel
+fate followed her!
+
+"Nay, do not look so fierce! How you have grown, yet I should have known
+you among a thousand."
+
+"Louis Marsac!" The name seemed wrested from her. She could feel the
+wrench in her mind.
+
+"Then you have not forgotten me! Mam'selle, I cannot help it--" with a
+deprecation in his voice that was an apology and begged for condonation.
+"You were pretty before, but you have grown wonderfully beautiful. You
+will allow an old friend to say it."
+
+His eyes seemed to devour her, from her dusky head to the finger tips,
+nay, even to the slim ankles, for skirts were worn short among the
+ordinary women. Only the quality went in trailing gowns, and held them
+up carefully in the unpaved ways.
+
+"If you begin to compliment, I shall dismiss you from the list of my
+acquaintances. It is foolish and ill-bred. And if you go around praising
+every pretty girl in Le Detroit, you will have no time left for
+business, Monsieur."
+
+Her face set itself in resolute lines, her voice had a cold scornfulness
+in it.
+
+"Is this all the welcome you have for me? I have been in but an hour,
+and busy enough with these dolts in unloading. Then I meant to hunt you
+up instead of going to sup with Monsieur Meldrum, with whom I have much
+business, but an old friend should have the first consideration."
+
+"I am not sure, Monsieur, that I care for friends. I have found them
+troublesome. And you would have had your effort for nothing. Pani and I
+would not be at home."
+
+"You are the same briery rose, Jeanne," with an amused laugh. "So sweet
+a one does well to be set in thorns. Still, I shall claim an old
+friend's privilege. And I have no end of stirring adventures for your
+ear. I have come now from Quebec, where the ladies are most gracious and
+charming."
+
+"Then I shall not please you, Monsieur," curtly. "Come, Pani," linking
+her arm in that of the woman, "let us get out of the crowd," and she
+nodded a careless adieu.
+
+They turned into a sort of lane that led below the palisades.
+
+"Pani," excitedly, "let us go out on the river. There will be an early
+moon, and we shall not mind so that we get in by nine. And we need not
+stop to gossip with people, canoes are not so friendly as woodland
+paths."
+
+Her laugh was forced and a little bitter.
+
+Pani had hardly recovered from her surprise. She nodded assent with a
+feeling that she had been stricken dumb. It was not altogether Louis
+Marsac's appearance, he had been expected last summer and had not come.
+She had almost forgotten about him. It was Jeanne's mood that perplexed
+her so. The two had been such friends and playmates, one might say, only
+a few years ago. He had been a slave to her pretty whims then. She had
+decorated his head with feathers and called him Chief of Detroit, or she
+had twined daisy wreaths and sweet grasses about his neck. He had bent
+down the young saplings that she might ride on them, a graceful,
+fearless child. They had run races,--she was fleet as the wind and he
+could not always catch her. He had gathered the first ripe wild
+strawberries, not bigger than the end of her little finger, but, oh, how
+luscious! She had quarreled with him, too, she had struck him with a
+feathery hemlock branch, until he begged her pardon for some fancied
+fault, and nothing had suited him better than to loll under the great
+oak tree, listening to Pani's story and all the mysterious suppositions
+of her coming. Then he told wild legends of the various tribes, talked
+in a strange, guttural accent, danced a war dance, and was almost as
+much her attendant as Pani.
+
+But the three years had allowed him to escape from the woman's memory,
+as any event they might expect again in their lives. Hugh de Marsac had
+turned into something of an explorer, beside his profitable connection
+with the fur company. The copper mines on Lake Superior had stirred up a
+great interest, and plans were being made to work them to a better
+advantage than the Indians had ever done. Fortunes were the dream of
+mankind even then; though this was destined to end in disappointment.
+
+Jeanne chose her canoe and they pushed out. She was in no haste, and few
+people were going down the river, not many anywhere except on business.
+The numerous holy days of the Church, which gave to religion an hour or
+two in the morning and devoted to pleasure the rest of the day, set the
+river in a whirl of gayety. Ordinary days were for work.
+
+The air was soft and fragrant. Some sea gulls started from a sandy nook
+with disturbed cries, then returned as if they knew the girl. A fishhawk
+darted swiftly down, having seen his prey in the clear water and
+captured it. There were farms stretching down the river now, with rough
+log huts quite distinct from the whitewashed or vine-covered cottages of
+the French. But the fields betrayed a more thrifty cultivation. There
+were young orchards nodding in the sunshine, great stretches of waving
+maize fields, and patches of different grains. Little streams danced out
+here and there and gurgled into the river, as if they were glad to be
+part of it.
+
+"Pani, do you suppose we could go ever so far down and build a tent or a
+hut and live there all the rest of the summer?"
+
+"But I thought you liked the woods!"
+
+"I like being far away. I am tired of Detroit."
+
+"Mam'selle, it would hardly be safe. There are still unfriendly Indians.
+And--the loneliness of it! For there are some evil spirits about, though
+Holy Church has banished them from the town."
+
+Occasionally her old beliefs and fears rushed over the Indian woman and
+shook her in a clutch of terror. She felt safest in her own little nest,
+under the shadow of the Citadel, with the high, sharp palisades about
+her, when night came on.
+
+"Art thou afraid of Madame De Ber?" she asked, hesitatingly. "For of a
+truth she did not want you for her son's wife."
+
+"I know it. Pierre made them all agree to it. I am sorry for Pierre, and
+yet he has the blindness of a mole. I am not the kind of wife he wants.
+For though there is so much kissing and caressing at first, there are
+dinners and suppers, and the man is cross sometimes because other things
+go wrong. And he smells of the skins and oils and paints, and the dirt,
+too," laughing. "Faugh! I could not endure it. I would rather dwell in
+the woods all my life. Why, I should come to hate such a man! I should
+run away or kill myself. And that would be a bitter self-punishment, for
+I love so to live if I can have my own life. Pani, why do men want one
+particular woman? Susette is blithe and merry, and Angelique is pretty
+as a flower, and when she spins she makes a picture like one the
+schoolmaster told me about. Oh, yes, there are plenty of girls who would
+be proud and glad to keep Pierre's house. Why does not the good God give
+men the right sense of things?"
+
+Pani turned her head mournfully from side to side, and the shrunken lips
+made no reply.
+
+Then they glided on and on. The blue, sunlit arch overhead, the waving
+trees that sent dancing shadows like troops of elfin sprites over the
+water, the fret in one place where a rock broke the murmurous lapping,
+the swish somewhere else, where grasses and weeds and water blooms
+rooted in the sedge rocked back and forth with the slow tide--how
+peaceful it all was!
+
+Yet Jeanne Angelot was not at peace. Why, when the woods or the river
+always soothed her? And it was not Pierre who disturbed the current, who
+lay at the bottom like some evil spirit, reaching up long, cruel arms to
+grasp her. Last summer she had put Louis Marsac out of her life with an
+exultant thrill. He would forget all about her. He would or had married
+some one up North, and she was glad.
+
+He had come back. She knew now what this look in a man's eyes meant. She
+had seen it in a girl's eyes, too, but the girl had the right, and was
+offering incense to her betrothed. Oh, perhaps--perhaps some other one
+might attract him, for he was very handsome, much finer and more manly
+than when he went away.
+
+Why did not Pani say something about him? Why did she sit there half
+asleep?
+
+"Wasn't it queer, Pani, that we should go so near the wharf, when we
+were trying to run away--"
+
+She ended with a short laugh, in which there was neither pleasure nor
+mirth.
+
+Pani glanced up with distressful eyes.
+
+"Eh, child!" she cried, with a sort of anguish, "it is a pity thou wert
+made so beautiful."
+
+"But there are many pretty girls, and great ladies are lovely to look
+at. Why should I not have some of the charm? It gives one satisfaction."
+
+"There is danger for thee in it. Perhaps, after all, the Recollet house
+would be best for thee."
+
+"No, no;" with a passionate protest. "And, Pani, no man can make me
+marry him. I would scream and cry until the priest would feel afraid to
+say a word."
+
+Pani put her thin, brown hand over the plump, dimpled one; and her eyes
+were large and weird.
+
+"Thou art afraid of Louis Marsac," she said.
+
+"Oh, Pani, I am, I am!" The voice was tremulous, entreating. "Did you
+see something in his face, a curious resolve, and shall I call it
+admiration? I hope he has a wife. Oh, I know he has not! Pani, you must
+help me, guard me."
+
+"There is M. Loisel, who would not have thee marry against thy will. I
+wish Father Rameau were home--he comes in the autumn."
+
+"I do not want to marry anyone. I am a strange girl. Marie Beeson said
+some girls were born old maids, and surely I am one. I like the older
+men who give you fatherly looks, and call you child, and do not press
+your hand so tight. Yet the young men who can talk are pleasant to meet.
+Pani, did you love your husband?"
+
+"Indian girls are different. My father brought a brave to the wigwam and
+we had a feast and a dance. The next morning I went away with him. He
+was not cruel, but you see squaws are beasts of burthens. I was only a
+child as you consider it. Then there came a great war between two tribes
+and the victors sold their prisoners. It is so long ago that it seems
+like a story I have heard."
+
+The young wives Jeanne knew were always extolling their husbands, but
+she thought in spite of their many virtues she would not care to have
+them. What made her so strange, so obstinate!
+
+"Pani," in a low tone scarce above the ripple of the water, "M. Marsac
+is very handsome. The Indian blood does not show much in him."
+
+"Yes, child. He is improved. There is--what do you call it?--the grand
+air about him, like a gentleman, only he was impertinent to thee."
+
+"You will not be persuaded to like him? It was different with Pierre."
+
+Jeanne made this concession with a slight hesitation.
+
+"Oh, little one, I will never take pity on anyone again if you do not
+care for him! The Holy Mother of God hears me promise that. I was sorry
+for Pierre and he is a good lad. He has not learned to drink rum and is
+reverent to his father. It is a thousand pities that he should love you
+so."
+
+Pani kissed the hand she held; Jeanne suddenly felt light of heart
+again.
+
+Down the river they floated and up again when the silver light was
+flooding everything with a softened glory. Jeanne drew her canoe in
+gently, there was no one down this end, and they took a longer way
+around to avoid the drinking shops. The little house was quiet and dark
+with no one to waylay them.
+
+"You will never leave me alone, Pani," and she laid her head on the
+woman's shoulder. "Then when M. St. Armand comes next year--"
+
+She prayed to God to keep him safely, she even uttered a little prayer
+to the Virgin. But could the Divine Mother know anything of girls'
+troubles?
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+AN UNWELCOME LOVER.
+
+
+Louis Marsac stood a little dazed as the slim, proudly carried figure
+turned away from him. He was not much used to such behavior from women.
+He was both angry and amused.
+
+"She was ever an uncertain little witch, but--to an old friend! I dare
+say lovers have turned her head. Perhaps I have waited too long."
+
+There was too much pressing business for him to speculate on a girl's
+waywardness; orders to give, and then important matters to discuss at
+the warehouse before he made himself presentable at the dinner. The
+three years had added much to Marsac's store of knowledge, as well as to
+his conscious self-importance. He had been in grand houses, a favored
+guest, in spite of the admixture of Indian blood. His father's position
+was high, and Louis held more than one fortunate chance in his hand.
+Developing the country was a new and attractive watchword. He had no
+prejudices as to who should rule, except that he understood that the
+French narrowness and bigotry had served them ill. Religion was, no
+doubt, an excellent thing; the priests helped to keep order and were in
+many respects serviceable. As for the new rulers, one need to be a
+little wary of too profound a faith in them. The Indians had not been
+wholly conquered, the English dreamed of re-conquest.
+
+Detroit was not much changed under the new regime. Louis liked the great
+expanse at the North better. The town was only for business.
+
+He had a certain polish and graceful manner that had come from the
+French side, and an intelligence that was practical and appealed to men.
+He had the suavity and deference that pleased women, if he knew little
+about poets and writers, then coming to be the fashion. His French was
+melodious, the Indian voice scarcely perceptible.
+
+In these three years there had been months that he had never thought of
+Jeanne Angelot, and he might have let her slip from his memory but for a
+slender thread that interested him, and of which he at last held the
+clew. If he found her unmarried--well, a marriage with him would advance
+her interests, if not--was it worth while to take trouble that could be
+of no benefit to one's self?
+
+Was it an omen of success that she should cross his path almost the
+first thing, grown into a slim, handsome girl, with glorious eyes and a
+rose red mouth that he would have liked to kiss there in the public
+street? How proud and dignified she had been, how piquant and daring and
+indifferent to flattery! The saints forfend! It was not flattery at all,
+but the living truth.
+
+The next day he was very busy, but he stole away once to the great oak.
+Some children were playing about it, but she was not there. And there
+was a dance that evening, given really for his entertainment, so he
+must participate in it.
+
+The second day he sauntered with an indifferent air to the well known
+spot. A few American soldiers were busy about the barracks. How odd not
+to see a bit of prancing scarlet!
+
+The door was closed top and bottom. The tailor's wife sat on her
+doorstep, her husband on his bench within.
+
+"They have gone away, M'sieu," she said. "They went early this morning."
+
+He nodded. Monsieur De Ber had met him most cordially and invited him to
+drop in and see Madame. They were in the lane that led to St. Anne's
+street; he need not go out of his way.
+
+He was welcomed with true French hospitality. Rose greeted him with a
+delighted surprise, coquettish and demure, being under her mother's
+sharp eye. Yes, here was a pretty girl!
+
+"My husband was telling about the wonderful copper mines," Madame began
+with great interest. "There was where the Indians brought it from, I
+suppose, but in the old years they kept very close about it. No doubt
+there are fortunes and fortunes in them;" glancing up with interest.
+
+"My father is getting a fortune out of them. He has a large tract of
+land thereabout. If there should be peace for years there will be great
+prosperity, and Detroit will have her share. It has not changed much
+except about the river front. Do you like the Americans for neighbors as
+well as the English?"
+
+Madame gave a little shrug. "They do not spend their money so readily,
+my husband says."
+
+"They have less to spend," with a short laugh. "Some of the best English
+families are gone. I met them at Quebec. Ah, Madame, there is a town for
+you!" and his eyes sparkled.
+
+"It is very gay, I suppose," subjoined Rose.
+
+"Gay and prosperous. Mam'selle, you should be taken there once to show
+them how Detroit maids bloom. There is much driving about, while here--"
+
+"The town spreads outside. There are some American farmers, but their
+methods are wild and queer."
+
+"You have a fine son, Madame, and a daughter married, I hear. Mam'selle,
+are many of the neighborhood girls mated?"
+
+"Oh, a dozen or so," laughed Rose. "But--let me see, the wild little
+thing, Jeanne Angelot, that used to amuse the children by her pranks,
+still roams the woods with her Pani woman."
+
+"Then she has not found a lover?" carelessly.
+
+"She plays too much with them, Monsieur. It is every little while a new
+one. She settles to nothing, and I think the schooling and the money did
+her harm. But there was no one in authority, and it is not even as if M.
+Loisel had a wife, you see;" explained Madame, with emphasis.
+
+"The money?" raising his brows, curiously.
+
+"Oh, it was a little M. Bellestre left," and a fine bit of scorn crossed
+Madame's face. "There was some gossip over it. She has too much liberty,
+but there is no one to say a word, and she goes to the heretic chapel
+since Father Rameau has been up North. He comes back this autumn. Father
+Gilbert is very good, but he is more for the new people and the home for
+the sisters. There are some to come from the Ursuline convent at
+Montreal, I hear."
+
+Marsac was not interested in the nuns. After a modicum of judicious
+praise to Madame, he departed, promising to come in again.
+
+When a week had elapsed and he had not seen Jeanne he was more than
+piqued, he was angry. Then he bethought himself of the Protestant
+chapel. Pani could not bring herself to enter it, but Jeanne had found a
+pleasing and devoted American woman who came in every Sunday and they
+met at a point convenient to both. Pani walked to this trysting spot for
+her darling.
+
+And now she was fairly caught. Louis Marsac bowed in the politest
+fashion and wished her good day in a friendly tone, ranging himself
+beside her. Jeanne's color came and went, and she put her hands in a
+clasp instead of letting them hang down at her side as they had a moment
+before. Her answers were brief, a simple "yes" or "no," or "I do not
+know, Monsieur."
+
+And Pani was not there! Jeanne bade her friend a gentle good day and
+then holding her head very straight walked on.
+
+"Mam'selle," he began in his softest voice, though his heart was raging,
+"are we no longer friends, when we used to have such merry times under
+the old oak? I have remembered you; I have said times without number,
+'When I go back to La Belle Detroit, my first duty will be to hunt up
+little Jeanne Angelot. If she is married I shall return with a heavy
+heart.' But she is not--"
+
+"Monsieur, if thy light-heartedness depends on that alone, thou mayst go
+back cheerily enough," she replied formally. "I think I am one of St.
+Catharine's maids and in the other world will spend my time combing her
+hair. Thou mayst come and go many times, perhaps, and find me Jeanne
+Angelot still."
+
+"Have you forsworn marriage? For a handsome girl hardly misses a lover."
+
+He was trying to keep his temper in the face of such a plain denial.
+
+"I am not for marriage," she returned briefly.
+
+"You are young to be so resolute."
+
+"Let us not discuss the matter;" and now her tone was haughty,
+forbidding.
+
+"A father would have authority to change your mind, or a guardian."
+
+"But I have no father, you know."
+
+He nodded doubtfully. She felt rather than saw the incredulous half
+smile. Had he some plot in hand? Why should she distrust him so?
+
+"Jeanne, we were such friends in that old time. I have carried you in my
+arms when you were a light, soft burthen. I have held you up to catch
+some branch where you could swing like a cat. I have hunted the woods
+with you for flowers and berries and nuts, and been obedient to your
+pretty whims because I loved you. I love you still. I want you for my
+wife. Jeanne, you shall have silks and laces, and golden gauds and
+servants to wait on you--"
+
+"I told you, Monsieur, I was not for marriage," she interrupted in the
+coldest of tones.
+
+"Every woman is, if you woo her long enough and strong enough."
+
+He tried very earnestly to keep the sneer out of his voice, but hardly
+succeeded. His face flushed, his eyes shone with a fierce light. Have
+this girl he would. She should see who was master.
+
+"Monsieur, that is ungentlemanly."
+
+"_Monsieur!_ In the old time, it was Louis."
+
+"We have outgrown the old times," carelessly.
+
+"I have not. Nor my love."
+
+"Then I am sorry for you. But it cannot change my mind."
+
+The way was very narrow now. She made a quick motion and passed him. But
+she might better have sent him on ahead, instead of giving him this
+study of her pliant grace. The exquisite curves of her figure in its
+thin, close gown, the fair neck gleaming through the soft curls, the
+beautiful shoulders, the slim waist with a ribbon for belt, the light,
+gliding step that scarcely moved her, held an enthralling charm. He had
+a passionate longing to clasp his arms about her. All the hot blood
+within him was roused, and he was not used to being denied.
+
+There was one little turn. Pani was not sitting before the door. Oh,
+where was she? A terror seized Jeanne, yet she commanded her voice and
+moved just a trifle, though she did not look at him. He saw that she had
+paled; she was afraid, and a cruel exultation filled him.
+
+"Monsieur, I am at home," she said. "Your escort was not needed," and
+she summoned a vague smile. "There is little harm in our streets, except
+when the traders are in, and Pani is generally my guard. Then for us the
+soldiers are within call. Good day, Monsieur Marsac."
+
+"Nay, my pretty one, you must be gentler and not so severe to make it a
+good day for me. And I am resolved that it shall be. See, Jeanne, I have
+always loved you, and though there have been years between I have not
+forgotten. You shall be my wife yet. I will not give you up. I shall
+stay here in Detroit until I have won you. No other demoiselle would be
+so obdurate."
+
+"Because I do not love you, Monsieur," and she gave the appellation its
+most formal sound. "And soon I shall begin to hate you!"
+
+Oh, how handsome she looked as she stood there in a kind of noble
+indignation, her heart swelling above her girdle, the child's sweetness
+still in the lines of her face and figure, as the bud when it is just
+about to burst into bloom. He longed to crush her in one eager embrace,
+and kiss the nectar of her lovely lips, even if he received a blow for
+it as before. That would pile up a double revenge.
+
+Pani burst from the adjoining cottage.
+
+"Oh," she cried, studying one and the other. "_Ma fille_, the poor
+tailor, Philippe! He had a fit come on, and his poor wife screamed for
+help, so I hurried in. And now the doctor says he is dying. O Monsieur
+Marsac, would you kindly find some one in the street to run for a
+priest?"
+
+"I will go," with a most obliging smile and inclination of the head.
+
+Jeanne clasped her arms about Pani's neck, and, laying her head on the
+shrunken bosom, gave way to a flood of tears.
+
+"_Ma petite_, has he dared--"
+
+"He loves me, Pani, with a fierce, wicked passion. I can see it in his
+eyes. Afterward, when things went wrong, he would remember and beat me.
+He kissed me once on the mouth and I struck him. He will never forget.
+But then, rather than be his wife, I would kill myself. I will not, will
+not do it."
+
+"No, _mon ange_, no, no. Pierre would be a hundred times better. And he
+would take thee away."
+
+"But I want no one. Keep me from him, Pani. Oh, if we could go away--"
+
+"Dear--the good sisters would give us shelter."
+
+Jeanne shook her head. "If Father Rameau were but here. Father Gilbert
+is sharp and called me a heretic. Perhaps I am. I cannot count beads any
+more. And when they brought two finger bones of some one long dead to
+St. Anne's, and all knelt down and prayed to them, and Father Gilbert
+blessed them, and said a touch would cure any disease and help a dying
+soul through purgatory, I could not believe it. Why did it not cure
+little Marie Faus when her hip was broken, and the great running sore
+never stopped and she died? And he said it was a judgment against
+Marie's mother because she would not live with her drunken brute of a
+husband. No, I do not think Pere Gilbert would take me in unless I
+recanted."
+
+"Oh, come, come," cried Pani. "Poor Margot is most crazed. And I cannot
+leave you here alone."
+
+They entered the adjoining cottage. There were but two rooms and
+overhead a great loft with a peaked roof where the children slept.
+Philippe lay on the floor, his face ghastly and contorted. There were
+some hemlock cushions under him, and his poor wife knelt chafing his
+hands.
+
+"It is of no use," said the doctor. "Did some one summon the priest?"
+
+"Immediately," returned Pani.
+
+"And there is poor Antoine on the Badeau farm, knowing nothing of this,"
+cried the weeping mother.
+
+The baby wailed a sorrowful cry as if in sympathy. It had been a puny
+little thing. Three other small ones stood around with frightened faces.
+
+Jeanne took up the baby and bore it out into the small garden, where she
+walked up and down and crooned to it so sweetly it soon fell asleep. The
+next younger child stole thither and caught her gown, keeping pace with
+tiny steps. How long the moments seemed! The hot sun beat down, but it
+was cool here under the tree. How many times in the stifling afternoons
+Philippe had brought his work out here! He had grown paler and thinner,
+but no one had seemed to think much of it. What a strange thing death
+was! What was the other world like--and purgatory? The mother of little
+Marie Faus was starving herself to pay for the salvation of her
+darling's soul.
+
+"Oh, I should not like to die!" and Jeanne shuddered.
+
+The priest came, but it was not Father Gilbert. The last rites were
+performed over the man who might be dead already. The baby and the
+little girl were brought in and the priest blessed them. There were
+several neighbors ready to perform the last offices, and now Jeanne took
+all the children out under the tree.
+
+Louis Marsac returned, presently, and offered his help in any matter,
+crowding some money into the poor, widowed hand. Jeanne he could see
+nowhere. Pani was busy.
+
+The next day he paid M. Loisel a visit, and stated his wishes.
+
+"You see, Monsieur, Jeanne Angelot is in some sort a foundling, and many
+families would not care to take her in. That I love her will be
+sufficient for my father, and her beauty and sweetness will do the rest.
+She will live like a queen and have servants to wait on her. There are
+many rich people up North, and, though the winters are long, no one
+suffers except the improvident. And I think I have loved Mam'selle from
+a little child. Then, too," with an easy smile, "there is a suspicion
+that some Indian blood runs in Mam'selle's veins. On that ground we are
+even."
+
+Yes, M. Loisel had heard that. Mixed marriages were not approved of by
+the better class French, but a small share of Indian blood was not
+contemned. When it came to that, Louis Marsac was not a person to be
+lightly treated. His father had much influence with the Indian tribes
+and was a rich man.
+
+So the notary laid the matter before Pani and his ward, when the funeral
+was over, though he would rather have pleaded for his nephew. It was a
+most excellent proffer.
+
+But he was not long in learning that Jeanne Angelot had not only dislike
+but a sort of fear and hatred for the young man; and that nothing was
+farther from her thoughts. Yet he wondered a little that the fortune and
+adoration did not tempt her.
+
+"Well, well, my child, we shall not be sorry to have you left in old
+Detroit. Some of our pretty girls have been in haste to get away to
+Quebec or to the more eastern cities. Boston, they say, is a fine place.
+And at New York they have gay doings. But we like our own town and have
+all the pleasure that is good for one. So I am glad to have thee stay."
+
+"If I loved him it would be different. But I think this kind of love has
+been left out of me," and she colored daintily. "All other loves and
+gratitude have been put in, and oh, M'sieu, such an adoration for the
+beautiful world God has made. Sometimes I go down on my knees in the
+forest, everything speaks to me so,--the birds and the wind among the
+trees, the mosses with dainty blooms like a pin's head, the velvet
+lichens with rings of gray and brown and pink. And the little lizards
+that run about will come to my hand, and the deer never spring away,
+while the squirrels chatter and laugh and I talk back to them. Then I
+have grown so fond of books. Some of them have strange melodies in them
+that I sing to myself. Oh, no, I do not want to be a wife and have a
+house to keep, neither do I want to go away."
+
+"Thou art a strange child."
+
+M. Loisel leaned over and kissed her on the crown of her head where the
+parting shone white as the moon at its full. Lips and rosy mouths were
+left for lovers in those days.
+
+"And you will make him understand?"
+
+"I will do my best. No one can force a damsel into marriage nowadays."
+
+Opposition heightened Louis Marsac's desires. Then he generally had his
+way with women. He did not need to work hard to win their hearts. Even
+here in spite of Indian blood, maids smiled on the handsome, jaunty
+fellow who went arrayed in the latest fashion, and carried it off with
+the air of a prince. There was another sort of secret dimly guessed at
+that would be of immense advantage to him, but he had the wariness of
+the mother's side as well as the astuteness of the father.
+
+A fortnight went by with no advantage. Pani never left her charge alone.
+The rambles in the woods were given up, and the girl's heart almost died
+within her for longing. She helped poor Margot nurse her children, and
+if Marsac came on a generous errand they surrounded her and swarmed
+over her. He could have killed them with a good will. She would not go
+out on the river nor join the girls in swimming matches nor take part in
+dances. Sometimes with Pani she spent mornings in the minister's study,
+and read aloud or listened to him while his wife sat sewing.
+
+"You are not easily tempted," said the good wife one day. "It is no
+secret that this young trader, M. Marsac, is wild for love of you."
+
+"But I do not like him, how then could I give him love?" and she glanced
+out of proud, sincere eyes, while a soft color fluttered in her face.
+
+"No, that could not be," assentingly.
+
+The demon within him that Louis Marsac called love raged and rose to
+white heat. If he could even carry her off! But that would be a foolish
+thing. She might be rescued, and he would lose the good opinion of many
+who gave him a flattering sympathy now.
+
+So the weeks went on. The boats were loaded with provision, some of them
+started on their journey. He came one evening and found Jeanne and her
+protector sitting in their doorway. Jeanne was light-hearted. She had
+heard he was to sail to-morrow.
+
+"I have come to bid my old playmate and friend good-by," and there was a
+sweet pathos in his voice that woke a sort of tenderness in the girl's
+heart, for it brought back a touch of the old pleasant days before he
+had really grown to manhood, when they sat under her oak and listened to
+Pani's legendary stories.
+
+"I wish you _bon voyage_, Monsieur."
+
+"Say Louis just once. It will be a bit of music to which I shall sail up
+the river."
+
+"Monsieur Louis."
+
+The tone was clear and no warmth penetrated it. He could see her face
+distinctly in the moonlight and it was passive in its beauty.
+
+"Thou hast not forgiven me. If I knelt--"
+
+"Nay!" she sprang up and stood at Pani's back. "There is nothing to
+kneel for. When you are away I shall strive to forget your insistence--"
+
+"And remember that it sprang from love," he interrupted. "Jeanne, is
+your heart of marble that nothing moves it? There are curious stories of
+women who have little human warmth in them--who are born of strange
+parents."
+
+"Monsieur, that is wrong. Jeanne hath ever been loving and fond from the
+time she put her little arms around my neck. She is kindly and
+tender--the poor tailor's lonely woman will tell you. And she spent
+hours with poor Madame Campeau when her own daughter left her and went
+away to a convent, comforting her and reading prayers. No, she is not
+cold hearted."
+
+"Then you have taken all her love," complainingly.
+
+"It is not that, either," returned the woman.
+
+"Jeanne, I shall love thee always, cruel as thou hast been. And if thou
+art so generous as to pray for others, say a little prayer that will
+help me bear my loneliness through the cold northern winter that I had
+hoped might be made warm and bright by thy presence. Have a little pity
+if thou hast no love."
+
+He was mournfully handsome as he stood there in the silvery light.
+Almost her heart was moved. She said a special prayer for only one
+person, but Louis Marsac might slip into the other class that was "all
+the world."
+
+"Monsieur, I will remember," bowing a little.
+
+"Oh, lovely icicle, you are enough to freeze a man's soul, and yet you
+rouse it to white heat! I can make no impression I see. Adieu, adieu."
+
+He gave a sudden movement and would have kissed her mouth but she put
+her hand across it, and Pani, divining the endeavor, rose at the same
+instant.
+
+"Mam'selle Jeanne Angelot, you will repent this some day!" and his tone
+was bitter with revenge.
+
+Then he plunged down the street with an unsteady gait and was lost in
+the darkness.
+
+"Pani, come in, bar the door. And the shutter must be fastened;" pulling
+the woman hastily within.
+
+"But the night will be hot."
+
+"It is cooler now. There has been a fresh breeze from the river. And--I
+am sore afraid."
+
+It was true that the night dews and the river gave a coolness to the
+city at night, and on the other side was the great sweep of woods and
+hills.
+
+Nothing came to disturb them. Jeanne was restless and had bad dreams,
+then slept soundly until after sunrise.
+
+"Antoine," she said to the tailor's little lad, "go down to the wharf
+and watch until the 'Flying Star' sails up the river. The tide is
+early. I will reward you well."
+
+"O Mam'selle, I will do it for love;" and he set off on a trot.
+
+"There are many kinds of love," mused Jeanne. "Strange there should be a
+kind that makes one afraid."
+
+At ten the "Flying Star" went up the river.
+
+"Thou hast been a foolish girl, Jeanne Angelot!" declared one of the
+neighbors. "Think how thou mightst have gone up the river on a wedding
+journey, and a handsome young husband such as falls to the lot of few
+maids, with money in plenty and furs fit for a queen. And there is, no
+doubt, some Indian blood in thy veins! Thou hast always been wild as a
+deer and longing to live out of doors."
+
+Jeanne only laughed. She was so glad to feel at liberty once more. For a
+month she had virtually been a prisoner.
+
+Madame De Ber, though secretly glad, joined the general disapproval. She
+had half hoped he might fancy Rose, who sympathized warmly with him. She
+could have forgiven the alien blood if she had seen Rose go up the
+river, in state, to such a future.
+
+And though Jeanne was not so much beyond childhood, it was settled that
+she would be an old maid. She did not care.
+
+"Let us go out under the oak, Pani," she exclaimed. "I want to look at
+something different from the Citadel and the little old houses,
+something wide and free, where the wind can blow about, and where there
+are waves of sweetness bathing one's face like a delightful sea. And
+to-morrow we will take to the woods. Do you suppose the birds and the
+squirrels have wondered?"
+
+She laughed gayly and danced about joyously.
+
+Wenonah sat at her hut door making a cape of gull's feathers for an
+officer's wife.
+
+"You did not go north, little one," and she glanced up with a smile of
+approval.
+
+For to her Jeanne would always be the wild, eager, joyous child who had
+whistled and sung with the birds, and could never outgrow childhood. She
+looked not more than a dozen years old to-day.
+
+"No, no, no. Wenonah, why do you cease to care for people, when you have
+once liked them? Yet I am sorry for Louis. I wish he had loved some one
+else. I hope he will."
+
+"No doubt there are those up there who have shared his heart and his
+wigwam until he tired of them. And he will console himself again. You
+need not give him so much pity."
+
+"Wenonah!" Jeanne's face was a study in surprise.
+
+"I am glad, Mam'selle, that his honeyed tongue did not win you. I wanted
+to warn, but the careful Pani said there was no danger. My brave has
+told some wild stories about him when he has had too much brandy. And
+sometimes an Indian girl who is deserted takes a cruel revenge, not on
+the selfish man, but on the innocent girl who has trusted him, and is
+not to blame. He is handsome and double of tongue and treacherous.
+See--he would have given me money to coax you to go out in the canoe
+with me some day to gather reeds. Then he could snatch you away. It was
+a good deal of money, too!"
+
+"O Wenonah!" She fell on the woman's neck and kissed the soft, brown
+cheek.
+
+"He knew you trusted me, that was the evil of him. And I said to Pani,
+'Do not let her go out on the river, lest the god of the Strait put
+forth his hand and pull her down to the depths and take her to his
+cave.' And Pani understood."
+
+"Yes, I trust you," said the girl proudly.
+
+"And I have no white blood in my veins."
+
+She went down to the great oak with Pani and they sat shaded from the
+afternoon sunshine with the lovely river stretching out before them. She
+did not care for the old story any more, but she leaned against Pani's
+bosom and patted her hand and said: "No matter what comes, Pani, we
+shall never part. And I will grow old with you like a good daughter and
+wait on you and care for you, and cook your meals when you are ill."
+
+Pani looked into the love-lit, shining eyes.
+
+"But I shall be so very, very old," she replied with a soft laugh.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+A HIDDEN FOE.
+
+
+Ah, what a day it was to Jeanne Angelot! They had gone early in the
+morning and taken some food with them in a pretty basket made of birch
+bark. How good it was to be alive, to be free! The sunshine had never
+been so golden, she thought, nor danced so among the branches nor shook
+out such dainty sprites. How they skipped over the turf, now hold of
+hands, now singly, now running away and disappearing, others coming in
+their places!
+
+"The very woods are alive," she declared in glee.
+
+Alive they were with the song of birds, the chirp of insects, the
+murmuring wind. Back of her was a rivulet fretting its way over pebbles
+down a hillside, making an irregular music. She kept time to it, then
+she changed to the bird song, and the rustle among the pines.
+
+"It is so lovely, Pani. I seem to be drinking in a strange draught that
+goes to my very finger tips. Oh, I wonder how anyone can bear to die!"
+
+"When they are old it is like falling asleep. And sometimes they are so
+tired it makes them glad."
+
+"I should only be tired of staying in the house. But I suppose one
+cannot help death. One can refuse to go into a little cell and shut out
+the sunlight and all the beauty that God has made. It is wicked I
+think. For one can pray out of doors and sing hymns. I am sure God will
+hear."
+
+They ate their lunch with a relish; Jeanne had found some berries and
+some ripe wild plums. There was a hollow tree full of honey, she could
+tell by the odorous, pungent smell. She would tell Wenonah and have some
+of the boys go at night and--oh, how hard to rob the poor bees, to
+murder and rob them! No, she would keep their secret.
+
+She laid her head down in Pani's lap and went fast asleep; and the
+Indian woman's eyes were touched with the same poppy juice. Once Pani
+started, she thought she heard a step. In an instant her eyes were bent
+inquiringly around. There was no one in sight.
+
+"It was the patter of squirrels," she thought.
+
+The movement roused Jeanne. She opened her eyes and smiled with
+infantine joy.
+
+"We have both been asleep," said the woman. "And now is it not time to
+go home?"
+
+"Oh, look at the long shadows. They are purple now, and soft dark green.
+The spirits of the wood have trooped home, tired of their dancing."
+
+She rose and gave herself a little shake.
+
+"Pani," she exclaimed, "I saw some beautiful flowers before noon, over
+on the other side of the stream. I think they were something strange. I
+can easily jump across. I will not be gone long, and you may stay here.
+Poor Pani! I tired you out."
+
+"No, Mam'selle, you were asleep first."
+
+"Was I? It was such a lovely sleep. Oh, you dear woods;" and she clasped
+her hands in adoration.
+
+Long, flute-like notes quivered through the branches--birds calling to
+their mates. Pani watched the child skipping, leaping, pulling down a
+branch and letting it fly up again. Then she jumped across the brook
+with a merry shout, and a tree hid her.
+
+Pani studied the turf, the ants and beetles running to and fro, the
+strange creatures with heavy loads. A woodpecker ran up a tree and
+pulled out a white grub. "Tinkle, tinkle, bu-r-r-r," said the little
+stream. Was that another shout?
+
+Presently Pani rose and went toward the stream. "Jeanne! Jeanne!" she
+called. The forest echoes made reply. She walked up, Jeanne had gone in
+that direction. Once it seemed as if the voice answered.
+
+Yes, over yonder was a great thicket of bloom. Surely the child would
+not need to go any farther. Presently there was a tangle of underbrush
+and wild grapevines. Pani retraced her steps and going farther down
+crossed and came up on the other side, calling as she went. The woods
+grew more dense. There was a chill in the air as if the sun never
+penetrated it. There was no real path and she wandered on in a thrill of
+terror, still calling but not losing sight of the stream.
+
+And now the sun dropped down. Terrified, Pani made the best of her way
+back. What had happened? She had seen no sign of a wild animal, and
+surely the child could not be lost in that brief while!
+
+She must give an alarm. She ran now until she was out of breath, then
+she had to pause until she could run again. She reached the farms. They
+were mostly all long strips of land with the houses in reach of the
+stockade for safety.
+
+"Andre Helmuth," she cried, "I have lost the child, Jeanne. Give an
+alarm." Then she sank down half senseless.
+
+Dame Helmuth ran out from the fish she was cooking for supper. "What is
+it?" she cried. "And who is this?" pointing to the prostrate figure.
+
+"Jeanne Angelot's Pani. And Jeanne, she says, is lost. It must be in the
+woods. But she knows them so well."
+
+"She was ever a wild thing," declared the dame. "But a night in the
+woods alone is not such a pleasant pastime, with panthers, and bears
+have been seen. And there may be savages prowling about. Yes, Andre,
+give the alarm and I will look after the poor creature. She has always
+been faithful to the child."
+
+By the time the dame had restored her, the news had spread. It reached
+Wenonah presently, who hastened to the Helmuths'. Pani sat bewildered,
+and the Indian woman, by skillful questioning, finally drew the story
+from her.
+
+"I think it is a band of roving Indians," she said. "I am glad now that
+Paspah is at home. He is a good guide. But we must send in town and get
+a company."
+
+"Yes, yes, that is the thing to do. A few soldiers with arms. One cannot
+tell how many of the Indians there may be. I will go at once," and Andre
+Helmuth set off on a clumsy trot.
+
+"And the savory fish that he is so fond of, getting spoiled. But what
+is that to the child's danger? Children, come and have your suppers."
+
+They wanted to linger about Pani, but the throng kept increasing.
+Wenonah warded off troublesome questions and detailed the story to
+newcomers. The dame brought her a cup of tea with a little brandy in it,
+and then waited what seemed an interminable while.
+
+The alarm spread through the garrison, and a searching party was ordered
+out equipped with lanterns and well armed. At its head was Jeanne's
+admirer, the young lieutenant.
+
+Tony Helmuth had finished his supper.
+
+"Let me go with them," he pleaded. "I know every inch of the way. I have
+been up and down the creek a hundred times."
+
+Pani rose. "I must go, too," she said, weakly, but she dropped back on
+the seat.
+
+"Thou wilt come home with me," began Wenonah, with gentle
+persuasiveness. "Thou hast not the strength."
+
+She yielded passively and clung piteously to the younger woman, her feet
+lagging.
+
+"She was so glad and joyous all day. I should not have let her go out of
+my sight," the foster mother moaned. "And it was only such a little
+while. Heaven and the blessed Mother send her back safely."
+
+"I think they will find her. Paspah is good on a trail. If they stop for
+the night and build a fire that will surely betray them."
+
+She led Pani carefully along, though quite a procession followed.
+
+"Let her be quiet now," said the younger squaw. "You can hear nothing
+more from her, and she needs rest. Go your ways."
+
+Pani was too much exhausted and too dazed to oppose anything. Once or
+twice she started feebly and said she must go home, but dropped back
+again on the pine needle couch covered with a blanket. Between waking
+and sleep strange dreams came to her that made her start and cry out,
+and Wenonah soothed her as one would a child.
+
+All the next day they waited. The town was stirred with the event, and
+the sympathy was universal. The pretty Jeanne Angelot, who had been left
+so mysteriously, had awakened romantic interest anew. A few years ago
+this would have been a common incident, but why one should want to carry
+off a girl of no special value,--though a ransom would be raised readily
+enough if such a thing could save her.
+
+On the second day the company returned home. No trace of any marauding
+party had been found. There had been no fires kindled, no signs of any
+struggle, and no Indian trails in the circuit they had made. The party
+might have had a canoe on Little river and paddled out to Lake St.
+Clair; if so, they were beyond reach.
+
+The tidings utterly crushed Pani. For a fortnight she lay in Wenonah's
+cabin, paying no attention to anything and would have refused sustenance
+if Wenonah had not fed her as a child. Then one day she seemed to wake
+as out of a trance.
+
+"They have not found her--my little one?" she said.
+
+Wenonah shook her head.
+
+"Some evil spirit of the woods has taken her."
+
+"Can you listen and think, Pani?" and she chafed the cold hand she held.
+"I have had many strange thoughts and Touchas, you know, has seen
+visions. The white man has changed everything and driven away the
+children of the air who used to run to and fro in the times of our
+fathers. In her youth she called them, but the Church has it they are
+demons, and to look at the future is a wicked thing. It is said in some
+places they have put people to death for doing it."
+
+Pani's dark eyes gave a glance of mute inquiry.
+
+"But I asked Touchas. At first she said the great Manitou had taken the
+power from her. But the night the moon described the full circle and one
+could discern strange shapes in it, she came to me, and we went and sat
+under the oak tree where the child first came to thee. There was great
+disturbance in Touchas' mind, and her eyes seemed to traverse space
+beyond the stars. Presently, like one in a dream, she said:--
+
+"'The child is alive. She was taken by Indians to the _petite_ lake, her
+head covered, and in strong arms. Then they journeyed by water,
+stopping, and going on until they met a big ship sailing up North. She
+is in great danger, but the stars watch over her; a prisoner where the
+window is barred and the door locked. There is a man between two women,
+an Indian maiden, whose heart hungers for him. She comes down to meet
+him and follows a trail and finds something that rouses her to fierce
+anger. She creeps and creeps, and finds the key and unlocks the door.
+The white maiden is afraid at first and cowers, for she reads passion in
+the other's eyes. O great Manitou, save her!' Then Touchas screamed and
+woke, shivering all over, and could see no further into the strange
+future. 'Wait until the next moon,' she keeps saying. But the child will
+be saved, she declares."
+
+"Oh, my darling, my little one!" moaned the woman, rocking herself to
+and fro. "The saints protect thee. Oh, I should have watched thee
+better! But she felt so safe. She had been afraid, but the fear had
+departed. Oh, my little one! I shall die if I do not see thee again."
+
+"I feel that the great God will care for her. She has done no evil; and
+the priests declare that he will protect the good. And I thought and
+thought, until a knowledge seemed to come out of the clear sky. So I did
+not wait for the next moon. I said, 'I have little need for Paspah,
+since I earn bread for the little ones. Why should he sit in the wigwam
+all winter, now and then killing a deer or helping on the dock for a
+drink of brandy?' So I sent him North again to join the hunters and to
+find Jeanne. For I know that handsome, evil-eyed Louis Marsac is at the
+bottom of it."
+
+"Oh, Wenonah!" Pani fell on her shoulder and cried, she was so weak and
+overcome.
+
+"We will not speak of this. Paspah has a grudge against Marsac; he
+struck him a blow last summer. My father would have killed him for the
+blow, but the red men who hang around the towns have no spirit. They
+creep about like panthers, and only show their teeth to an enemy. The
+forest is the place for them, but this life is easier for a woman."
+
+Wenonah sighed. Civilization had charms for her, yet she saw that it was
+weakening her race. They were driven farther and farther back and to the
+northward. Women might accept labor, they were accustomed to it in the
+savage state but a brave could not so demean himself.
+
+Pani's mind was not very active yet. For some moments she studied
+Wenonah in silence.
+
+"She was afraid of him. She would not go out to the forest nor on the
+river while he was here. But he went away--"
+
+"He could have planned it all. He would find enough to do his bidding.
+But if she has been taken up North, Paspah will find her."
+
+That gave some present comfort to Pani. But she began to be restless and
+wanted to return to her own cottage.
+
+"You must not live alone," said Wenonah.
+
+"But I want to be there. If my darling comes it is there she will search
+for me."
+
+When Wenonah found she could no longer keep her by persuasion or
+entreaty, she went home with her one day. The tailor's widow had taken
+some little charge of the place. It was clean and tidy.
+
+Pani drew a long, delighted breath, like a child.
+
+"Yes, this is home," she exclaimed. "Wenonah, the good Mother of God
+will reward you for your kindness. There is something"--touching her
+forehead in piteous appeal--"that keeps me from thinking as I ought. But
+you are sure my little one will come back, like a bird to its nest?"
+
+"She will come back," replied Wenonah, hardly knowing whether she
+believed it herself or not.
+
+"Then I shall stay here."
+
+She was deaf to all entreaties. She went about talking to herself, with
+a sentence here and there addressed to Jeanne.
+
+"Yes, leave her," said Margot. "She was good to me in my sorrow, and
+_petite_ Jeanne was an angel. The children loved her so. She would not
+go away of her own accord. And I will watch and see that no harm happens
+to Pani, and that she has food. The boys will bring her fagots for fire.
+I will send you word every day, so you will know how it fares with her."
+
+Pani grew more cheerful day by day and gained not only physical
+strength, but made some mental improvement. In the short twilight she
+would sit in the doorway listening to every step and tone, sometimes
+rising as if she would go to meet Jeanne, then dropping back with a
+sigh.
+
+The soldiers were very kind to her and often stopped to give her good
+day. Neighbors, too, paused, some in sympathy, some in curiosity.
+
+There were many explanations of the sudden disappearance. That Jeanne
+Angelot had been carried off by Indians seemed most likely. Such things
+were still done.
+
+But many of the superstitious shook their heads. She had come queerly as
+if she had dropped from the clouds, she had gone in the same manner.
+Perhaps she was not a human child. All wild things had come at her
+call,--she had talked to them in the woods. Once a doe had run to her
+from some hunters and she had so covered it with her girlish arms and
+figure that they had not dared to shoot. If there were bears or panthers
+or wolves in the woods, they never molested her.
+
+They recalled old legends, Indian and French, some gruesome enough, but
+they did not seem meet for pretty, laughing Jeanne, who was all
+kindliness and sweetness and truth. If she was part spirit, surely it
+was a good spirit and not an evil one.
+
+Then Pani thought she would go to Father Gilbert, though she had never
+felt at home with him as she did with good Pere Rameau. There might be
+prayers that would hasten her return. Or, if relics helped, if she could
+once hold them in her hand and wish--
+
+The old missionaries who had gone a century or two before to plant the
+cross along with the lilies of France had the souls of the heathen
+savages at heart. Since then times had changed and the Indians were not
+looked upon as such promising subjects. Father Gilbert worked for the
+good and the glory of the Church. One English convert was worth a dozen
+Indians. So the church had been improved and made more beautiful. There
+were singers who caught the ear of the casual listener, and he or she
+came again. The school, too, was improved, the sisters' house enlarged,
+and a retreat built where women could spend days of sorrow and go away
+refreshed. Sometimes they preferred to stay altogether.
+
+Father Gilbert listened rather impatiently to the prolix story. He might
+have heard it before, he did not remember. There were several Indian
+waifs in school.
+
+"And this child was baptized, you say? Why did you not bring her to
+church?" he asked sharply.
+
+"Good Pere, I did at first. But M. Bellestre would not have her forced.
+And then she only came sometimes. She liked the new school because they
+taught about countries and many things. She was always honest and truth
+speaking and hated cruel deeds--"
+
+"But she belonged to the Church, you see. Woman, you have done her a
+great wrong and this is sent upon you for punishment. She should have
+been trained to love her Church. Yes, you must come every day and pray
+that she may be returned to the true fold, and that the good God will
+forgive your sin. You have been very wicked and careless and I do not
+wonder God has sent this upon you. When she comes back she must be given
+to the Church."
+
+Pani turned away without asking about the relics. Her savage heart rose
+up in revolt. The child was hers, the Church had not all the right. And
+Jeanne had come to believe like the chapel father, who had been very
+friendly toward her. Perhaps it was all wrong and wicked, but Jeanne was
+an angel. Ah, if she could hold her in her old arms once more!
+
+Father Gilbert went to see M. Loisel. What was it about the money the
+Indian woman and the child had? Could not the Church take better care of
+it? And if the girl was dead, what then?
+
+M. Loisel explained the wording of the bequest. If both died it went
+back to the Bellestre estate. Only in case of Jeanne's marriage did it
+take the form of a dowry. In June and December it came to him, and he
+sent back an account of the two beneficiaries.
+
+Really then it was not worth looking after, Father Gilbert decided, when
+there was so much other work on hand.
+
+Madame De Ber and her coterie, for already there were little cliques in
+Detroit, shrugged their shoulders and raised their eyebrows when Jeanne
+Angelot was mentioned.
+
+She was such a coquette! And though she flouted Louis Marsac to his
+face, when he had really taken her at her word and gone, she might have
+repented and run after him. It was hardly likely a band of roving
+Indians would burthen themselves with a girl. Then she was fleet of foot
+and had a quick brain, she could have eluded them and returned by this
+time.
+
+Rose De Ber had succeeded in captivating her fine lover and sent Martin
+about with a bit of haughtiness that would have become a queen. It was
+a fine wedding and Jeanne was lost sight of in the newer excitement.
+
+Pani rambled to and fro, a grave, silent woman. When she grew strong
+enough she went to the forest and haunted the little creek with her
+plaints. The weather grew colder. Furs and rugs were brought out, and
+warm hangings for winter. Martin Lavosse came in and arranged some
+comforts for Pani, looked to see that the shutters would swing easily
+and brought fresh cedar and pine boughs for pallets. Crops were being
+gathered in, and there were merrymakings and church festivals, but the
+poor woman sat alone in her room that fronted the street, now and then
+casting her eyes up and down in mute questioning. The light of her life
+had gone. If Jeanne came not back all would be gone, even faith in the
+good God. For why should he, if he was so great and could manage the
+whole world, let this thing happen? Why should he deliver Jeanne into
+the hands of the man she hated, or perhaps let her be torn to pieces by
+some wild beast of the forest, when, by raising a finger, he could have
+helped it? Could he be angry because she had not sent the child to be
+shut up in the Recollet house and made a nun of?
+
+Slavery and servitude had not extinguished the love of liberty that had
+been born in Pani's soul. She had succumbed to force, then to a certain
+fondness for a kind mistress. But it seemed as if she alone had
+understood the child's wild flights, her hatred of bondage. She had done
+no harm to any living creature; she had been full of gratitude to the
+great Manitou for every flower, every bird, for the golden sun that set
+her pulses in a glow, for the moon and stars, and the winds that sang to
+her. Oh, surely God could not be angry with her!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+A PRISONER.
+
+
+Jeanne Angelot climbed a slight ascent where great jagged stones had
+probably been swept down in some fierce storm and found lodgment. Tufts
+of pink flowers, the like of which she had not seen before, hung over
+one ledge. They were not wild roses, yet had a spicy fragrance. Here the
+little stream formed a sort of basin, and the overflow made the cascade
+down the winding way strewn with pebbles and stones worn smooth by the
+force of the early spring floods. How wonderfully beautiful it was! To
+the north, after a space of wild land, there was a prairie stretching
+out as far as one could see, golden green in the sunlight; to the east
+the lake, that seemed to gather all sorts of changeful, magical tints on
+its bosom.
+
+She had never heard of the vale of Enna nor her prototype who stooped to
+pluck
+
+          "The fateful flower beside the rill,
+           The daffodil! The daffodil!"
+
+as she sprang down to gather the blossoms. The stir in the woods did not
+alarm her. Her eyes were still over to the eastward drinking in that
+fine draught of celestial wine, the true nectar of life. A bird piped
+overhead. She laughed and answered him. Then a sudden darkness fell upon
+her, close, smothering. Her cry was lost in it. She was picked up,
+slung over some one's shoulder and borne onward by a swift trot. Her
+arms were fast, she could only struggle feebly.
+
+When at length she was placed on her feet and the blanket partly
+unrolled, she gave a cry.
+
+"Hush, hush!" said a rough voice in Chippewa. "If you make a noise we
+shall kill you and throw you into the lake. Be silent and nothing shall
+harm you."
+
+"Oh, let me go!" she pleaded. "Why do you want me?"
+
+The blanket was drawn over her head again. Another stalwart Indian
+seized her and ran on with such strides that it nearly jolted the breath
+out of her body, and the close smell of the blanket made her faint. When
+the second Indian released her she fell to the ground in a heap.
+
+"White Rose lost her breath, eh?"
+
+"You have covered her too close. We are to deliver her alive. The white
+brave will have us murdered if she dies."
+
+One of them brought some water from a stream near by, and it revived
+her.
+
+"Give me a drink!" she cried, piteously. Then she glanced at her
+abductors. Four fierce looking Indians, two unusually tall and powerful.
+To resist would be useless.
+
+"Whither are you going to take me?"
+
+A grunt was the only reply, and they prepared to envelop her again.
+
+"Oh, let me walk a little," she besought. "I am stiff and tired."
+
+"You will not give any alarm?"
+
+Who could hear in this wild, solitary place?
+
+"I will be quiet. Nay, do not put the blanket about me, it is so warm,"
+she entreated.
+
+One of the Indians threw it over his shoulder. Two others took an arm
+with a tight grasp and commenced a quick trot. They lifted her almost
+off her feet, and she found this more wearying than being carried.
+
+"Do not go so fast," she pleaded.
+
+The Indian caught her up and ran again. Her slim figure was as nothing
+to him. But it was better not to have her head covered.
+
+There seemed a narrow path through these woods, a trail the Indians
+knew. Now and then they emerged from the woods to a more open space, but
+the sunlight was mostly shut out. Once more they changed and now they
+reached a stream and put down their burthen.
+
+"We go now in a canoe," began the chief spokesman. "If the White Rose
+will keep quiet and orderly no harm will come to her. Otherwise her
+hands and feet must be tied."
+
+Jeanne drew a long breath and looked from one to the other. Their faces
+were stolid. Questioning would be useless.
+
+"I will be quiet," she made answer.
+
+They spread the blanket about and seated her in the middle. One man took
+his place behind her, one in front, and each had two ends of the
+blanket to frustrate any desperate move. Then another stood up to the
+paddle and steered the canoe swiftly along the stream, which was an arm
+of a greater river emptying into the lake.
+
+What could they want of her? Jeanne mused. Perhaps a ransom, she had
+heard such tales, though it was oftener after a battle that a prisoner
+was released by a ransom. She did not know in what direction they were
+taking her, everything was strange though she had been on many of the
+small streams about Detroit. Now the way was narrow, overhung with
+gloomy trees, here and there a white beech shining out in a ghostly
+fashion. The sun dropped down and darkness gathered, broken by the
+shrill cry of a wild cat or the prolonged howl of a wolf. Here they
+started a nest of waterfowl that made a great clatter, but they glided
+swiftly by. It grew darker and darker but they went silently with only a
+low grunt from one of the Indians now and then.
+
+Presently they reached the main stream. This was much larger, with the
+shores farther off and clearer, though weird enough in the darkness.
+Stars were coming out. Jeanne watched them in the deep magnificent blue,
+golden, white, greenish and with crimson tints. Was the world beyond the
+stars as beautiful as this? But she knew no one there. She wondered a
+little about her mother--was she in that bright sphere? There was
+another Mother--
+
+"O Mother of God," she cried in her soul, "have pity upon me! I put
+myself in thy care. Guard me from evil! Restore me to my home!"
+
+For it seemed, amid these rough savages, she sorely needed a mother's
+tender care. And she thought now there had been no loving woman in her
+life save Pani. Madame Bellestre had petted her, but she had lost her
+out of her life so soon. There had been the schoolmaster, that she could
+still think of with affection for all his queer fatherly interest and
+kindness; there was M. Loisel; and oh, Monsieur St. Armand, who was
+coming back in the early summer, and had some plans to lay before her.
+Even M. De Ber had been kindly and friendly, but Madame had never
+approved her. Poor Madame Campeau had come to love her, but often in her
+wandering moments she called her Berthe.
+
+The quiet, the lapping of the waves, and perhaps a little fatigue
+overcame her at length. She dropped back against the Indian's knee, and
+her soft breath rose and fell peacefully. He drew the blanket up over
+her.
+
+"Ugh! ugh!" he ejaculated, but she heard it not. "The tide is good, we
+shall make the Point before dawn."
+
+The others nodded. They lighted their pipes, and presently the Indian at
+the paddle changed with one of his comrades and they stole on and on,
+both wind and tide in their favor. Several times their charge stirred
+but did not wake. Youth and health had overcome even anxiety.
+
+There was dawn in the eastern sky. Jeanne roused.
+
+"Oh, where am I?" she cried in piercing accents; and endeavored to
+spring up.
+
+"Thou art safe enough and naught has harmed thee," was the reply. "Keep
+quiet, that is all."
+
+"Oh, where do you mean to take me? I am stiff and cold. Oh, let me
+change a little!"
+
+She straightened herself and pulled the blanket over her. The same
+stolid faces that had refused any satisfaction last night met her gaze
+again in blankness.
+
+There was a broad, open space of water, no longer the river. She glanced
+about. A sudden arrow of gold gleamed swiftly across it--then another,
+and it was a sea of flame with dancing crimson lights.
+
+"It is the lake," she said. "Lake Huron." She had been up the
+picturesque shores of the St. Clair river.
+
+The Indian nodded.
+
+"You are going north?" A great terror overwhelmed her like a sudden
+revelation.
+
+The answer was a solemn nod.
+
+"Some one has hired you to do this."
+
+Not a muscle in any stolid face moved.
+
+"If I guess rightly will you tell me?"
+
+There was a refusal in the shake of the head.
+
+Jeanne Angelot at that moment could have leaped from the boat. Yet she
+knew it would be of no avail. A chill went through every pulse and
+turned it to the ice of apprehension.
+
+The canoe made a turn and ran up an inlet. A great clump of trees hid a
+wigwam until they were in sight of it There was a smoke issuing from
+the rude chimney, and a savory smell permeated the air. Two squaws had
+been squatted before the blaze of the stone-built fireplace. They both
+rose and came down the narrow strip of beach. They were short, the older
+one had a squat, ungainly figure of great breadth for the height, and a
+most forbidding face. The other was much younger.
+
+Jeanne did not understand the language, but from a few words she guessed
+it was Huron. It seemed at first as if there was fierce upbraiding from
+some cause, but it settled satisfactorily it would seem. She was helped
+out of the canoe. Oh, how good it was to stand free on the ground again!
+
+The Indian who appeared to be the leader of the party took her arm and
+led her up to the inclosure, the back of which seemed rocks, one piled
+upon another. The wigwam was set against them. The rude shelter outside
+was the kitchen department, evidently. A huge kettle had been lifted
+from the coals and was still steaming. A bark platter was piled high
+with deliciously browned fish, and in spite of her terror and distrust
+she felt that she was hungry.
+
+"If I might have some water," she asked hesitatingly,--"a drink and some
+to bathe my face and hands?"
+
+The drink was offered her in a gourd cup. Then the younger woman led her
+within the wigwam. There was a rough earthen bowl filled with water, a
+bit of looking-glass framed in birch bark, a bed, and some rounds of
+logs for seats. Around hung articles of clothing, both native made and
+bought from the traders.
+
+"I understand Chippewa," announced Jeanne looking inquiringly at the
+woman.
+
+She put her finger on her lip. Then she said, almost breathlessly, "We
+are not to talk to the French demoiselle."
+
+"But tell me, am I to stay here?"
+
+She gave a negative shake of the head.
+
+"Am I to go--farther north?"
+
+An affirmative nod this time.
+
+"Wanee! Wanee!" was called sharply from without.
+
+Jeanne sank on her knees.
+
+"O Holy Mother of Christ, have pity on me and save me!" she cried. For
+the vague suspicion that had haunted her since waking, crystallized into
+a certainty. Part of a rosary came to her:--
+
+          "Heart of Jesus, refuge of sinners;
+           Heart of Jesus, fortitude of the just;
+           Heart of Jesus, comfort the afflicted."
+
+Then she rose and made a brief toilet. She shook out her long hair,
+passing her damp hands over it, and it fell in curls again. She
+straightened her dress, but she still felt chill in the cool morning
+air. There was a cape of gull's feathers, hanging by the flap of the
+wigwam, and she reached it down making a sign to the woman asking
+permission.
+
+She nodded assentingly.
+
+It felt good and warm. Jeanne's breakfast was spread on a board resting
+on two stones. The squaw had made coffee out of some parched and ground
+grains, and it had a comforting flavor. The plate of fish was set before
+her and cakes of honey bread, and her coffee poured in a gourd bowl. The
+birds were singing overhead, and she could hear the lap of the tide in
+the lake, a soft tone of monotony. The beauty of it all penetrated her
+very soul. Even the group around the great kettle, dipping in their
+wooden spoons and gravely chatting, the younger woman smiling and one
+might almost imagine teasing them, had a picturesque aspect, and
+softened the thought of what might happen to-morrow.
+
+They lolled on the turf and smoked pipes afterward. Jeanne paced up and
+down within sight of their glances that she knew were fixed upon her in
+spite of the half-closed lids. It was so good to be free in the fragrant
+air, to stretch her cramped limbs and feel the soft short grass under
+her feet. Dozens of wild plans flashed through her brain. But she knew
+escape was impossible, and she wondered what was to be the next move.
+Were they awaiting the trader, Louis Marsac?
+
+Plainly they were not. When they were rested and had eaten again and had
+drunk a thick liquid made of roots and barks and honey, they rose and
+went toward the canoe, as if discussing some matter. They parleyed with
+the elder woman, who brought out two blankets and a pine needle cushion,
+which they threw in the boat, then a bottle of water from the spring, a
+gourd cup and some provisions.
+
+"Come," the leader said, not unkindly. "Thou hast had a rest. We must be
+on our journey."
+
+Pleading would be in vain, she recognized that. The women could not
+befriend her even if they would. So she allowed herself to be helped
+into the canoe, and the men pushed off amid the rather vociferous jargon
+of the women. She was made much more comfortable than before, though so
+seated that either brave could reach out his long arm and snatch her
+from any untoward resolve.
+
+She looked down into the shining waters. Did she really care to try
+them? The hope of youth is unbounded and its trust in the future
+sublime. She did not want to die. Life was a glad, sweet thing to her,
+even if full of vague dreams, and she hoped somehow to be delivered from
+this danger, to find a friend raised up for her. Stories of miracles and
+wonderful rescues floated through her mind. Surely God would not let her
+fall a prey to this man she both feared and hated. She could feel his
+one hot, vicious kiss upon her lips even yet.
+
+The woods calmed and soothed her with their grays and greens, and the
+infrequent birches, tall and slim, with circles of white still about
+them. Great tree boles stood up like hosts of silent Indian warriors,
+ready to pounce down on one. They hugged the shore closely, sometimes it
+was translucent green, and one could almost catch the darting fishes
+with one's hand. Then the dense shade rendered it black, and it seemed
+bottomless.
+
+So gliding along, keeping well out of the reach of other craft, the
+hours growing more tiresome to Jeanne, they passed the Point Aux Barques
+and steered across Saginaw bay. Once they had stopped for a little rest
+and a tramp along the shore. Then another evening dropped down upon
+them, another night, and Jeanne slept from a sort of exhaustion.
+
+The next forenoon they landed at one of the islands, where a trading
+vessel of considerable size and fair equipment lay at anchor. A man on
+deck with a glass had been sighting them. She had not noted him
+particularly, in fact she was weary and disheartened with her journey
+and her fears. But they made a sudden turn and came up to the vessel,
+poled around to the shore side, when she was suddenly lifted up by
+strong arms and caught by other arms with a motion so rapid she could
+not have struggled if she had wished. And now she was set down almost
+roughly.
+
+"Welcome, my fair demoiselle," said a voice whose triumph was in no
+degree disguised. "How shall I ever thank you for this journey you have
+taken to meet me? I could have made it pleasanter for you if you would
+have consented a little earlier. But a willful girl takes her own way,
+and her way is sweet to the man who loves her, no matter how briery the
+path may be."
+
+Jeanne Angelot was stunned. Then her worst fears were realized. She was
+in the power of Louis Marsac. Oh, why had she not thrown herself into
+the river; why had she not seized the knife with which they had been
+cutting venison steak yester morn and ended it all? She tried to
+speak--her lips were dry, and her tongue numb as well as dumb.
+
+He took her arm. As if deprived of resistance she suffered herself to be
+led forward and then down a few steps. He opened a door.
+
+"See," he said, "I have arranged a pretty bower for you, and a servant
+to wait upon you. And now, Mam'selle Angelot, further refusal is
+useless. To-morrow or next day at the latest the priest will make us man
+and wife."
+
+"I will never be your wife alive," she said. Every pulse within her
+shrank from the desecration.
+
+"Oh, yes, you will," and he smiled with a blandness that was maddening.
+"When we are once married I shall be very sweet and gentle. I shall wait
+with such patience that you will learn to pity me at first. My devotion
+will be so great that even a heart of marble could not resist.
+Mam'selle, the sun and the rain will wear away the stoutest rocks in
+time, and in the split crevices there grows some tiny flower. That is
+the way it is with the most resolute woman's heart. And you are not much
+more than a child. Then--you have no lover."
+
+Jeanne stood spellbound. Was it possible that she should ever come to
+love this man? Yet in her childhood she had been very fond of him. She
+was a great puzzle to herself at this moment. All the old charms and
+fascinations that had been part of the lore of her childhood, weird
+stories that Touchas had told, but which were forbidden by the Church,
+rushed over her. She was full of terror at herself as well as of Louis
+Marsac.
+
+He read the changes in her countenance, but he did not understand her
+shrinking from an abhorred suitor, nor the many fine and delicate lines
+of restraint that had come to hedge her about, to impress a peculiar
+responsibility of her own soul that would be degraded by the bondage.
+She had seen some of it in other girls mated to coarse natures.
+
+"My beautiful bird shall have everything. We will go up to the head of
+the great lake where my father has a lodge that is second only to that
+of the White Chief. I am his only son. He wishes for my marriage.
+Jeanne, he will give thee such a welcome as no woman ever had. The
+costliest furs shall be thine, jewels from abroad, servants to come at
+the bidding of thy finger--"
+
+"I do not want them!" she interrupted, vehemently. "I have told you I do
+not want to be the wife of any man. Give me the freedom you have stolen
+from me. Send me back to Detroit. Oh, there must be women ready to marry
+you. Let me go."
+
+Her voice had a piercing sweetness. Even anger could not have made it
+harsh. She dropped on her knees; she raised her beautiful eyes in
+passionate entreaty.
+
+There was much of the savage Indian in him. He would enjoy her
+subjugation. It would begin gently, then he would tighten the cord until
+she had paid back to the uttermost, even to the blow she had given him.
+But he was too astute to begin here.
+
+"Thou shalt go back in state as my wife. Ere long my father will be as
+big a magnate as the White Chief. Detroit will be proud to honor us
+both, when we shall be chiefs of the great copper country. Rise, Star of
+the Morning. Then, whatever thou shalt ask as my wife shall be granted
+to thee."
+
+She rose only to throw herself on the pile of hemlock cushions, face
+downward to shut him out of her sight. Was he some strange, evil spirit
+in a man's shape?
+
+Noko, an old woman, waited on her. If she knew Chippewa or French she
+would not use them. She cooked savory messes. At night she slept on the
+mat of skins at the door; during the day she was outside mostly. The
+door was bolted and locked beside, but both bolt and lock were outside.
+The window with its small panes of greenish glass was securely fastened.
+
+Jeanne could tie a band about her neck and choke herself to death. It
+would be horrible to strangle, and she shuddered. She had no weapon of
+any kind. The woman watched her while she ate and took away all the
+dishes when she was through.
+
+The cabin was not large, but arranged with much taste. The sides were
+covered with bark and long strips of Indian embroidery, and curious
+plates or tiles of polished stone secured by the corners. On one side a
+roomy couch raised above the floor, fragrant with newly gathered balsam
+of fir and sweet grass, and covered with blankets of fine weaves, and
+skins cured to marvelous softness. Two chairs that were also hung with
+embroidery done on silk, and a great square wooden seat covered with
+mottled fawn skin. Bunches of dried, sweet herbs were suspended in the
+corners, with curious imitation flowers made of dainty feathers, bits of
+bark, and various colored leaves.
+
+Sometimes she raged like a wild creature in her cage. She would not
+speak when Louis entered the room. She had a horrible fear of his
+blandishments. There were days and nights,--how many she did not know
+for there was the torture of hundreds comprised in them. Then she wept
+and prayed. There was the great Manitou Touchas and many of the Indian
+women believed in; there was the good God the schoolmaster had talked
+about, and the minister at the chapel, who had sent his Son to save all
+who called upon him, and why not be saved in this world as well as the
+next? In heaven all would be safe--yes, it was here that people needed
+to be saved from a thousand dangers. And there was the good God of the
+Church and the Holy Mother and all the blessed saints. Oh, would they
+not listen to one poor little girl? She did not want to die. All her
+visions of life and love were bounded by dear Detroit, La Belle Detroit.
+
+          "O Holy Father, hear me!
+           O Blessed Mother of God, hear me!
+           O Precious Son of Mary, hear me!"
+
+she cried on her knees, until a strange peace came to her soul. She
+believed there would be some miracle for her. There had been for
+others.
+
+At noon, one day, they came to a landing. There was some noise and
+confusion, much tramping and swearing. She heard Marsac at the door
+talking to Noko in French and the woman answering him. Her heart beat so
+that it well-nigh strangled her. But he did not come in. Presently the
+rumbling and unloading were over, and there was no sound but the
+oscillation of the vessel as it floundered in the tide with short beats,
+until the turning, and then the motion grew more endurable. If she could
+only see! But from her window there was nothing save an expanse of
+water, dotted with canoes and some distant islands. The cabin was always
+in semi-twilight.
+
+There was a fumbling at the door presently. The bolt was drawn, the lock
+snapped; and the door was opened cautiously. It was neither Noko nor
+Marsac, but some one in a soft, gray blanket, with white borders. The
+corner was thrown over her head. She turned stealthily, took out the
+key, and locked the door again on the inside. Then she faced Jeanne who
+had half risen, and her blanket fell to the floor.
+
+A handsome Indian girl, arrayed in a beautiful costume that bespoke rank
+in the wearer. Across her brow was a fillet made of polished stones that
+sparkled like jewels. Her long, black hair nearly reached her knees. Her
+skin was fine and clear, of a light bronze tint, through which the pink
+in her cheeks glowed. Her eyes were larger and softer than most of her
+race, of a liquid blackness, her nose was straight and slim, with fine
+nostrils, and her mouth like an opening rose, the under petal falling
+apart.
+
+She came close to the white girl who shrank back terrified at the eyes
+fixed so resolutely on her.
+
+"You are the French girl who wants to marry Louis Marsac," she hissed,
+between her white teeth.
+
+"I am a French girl, Jeanne Angelot, and he stole me from Detroit. I do
+not want to marry him. Oh, no! a thousand times no! I have told him that
+I shall kill myself if he forces me to marry him!"
+
+The Indian girl looked amazed. Her hands dropped at her side. Her eyes
+flickered in wavering lights, and her breath came in gasps.
+
+"You do not want to marry him?"
+
+Her voice was hoarse, guttural. "Ah, you lie! You make believe! It
+cannot be! Why, then, did you come up here? And why has he gone to
+L'Arbre Croche for the priest he expected?"
+
+"I told you. He hired some Indians to take me from Detroit, after his
+boat had left. I would not go. I did not want to marry him and said
+'_no_' dozens of times. They took me out in a canoe. I think they were
+Hurons; I did not understand their language. Somewhere--I do not know
+where we are now, and I cannot remember the days that passed, but they
+met the trader's boat and put me on it, and then I knew it was Louis
+Marsac who had stolen me. Has he gone for a priest? Is that what you
+said? Oh, save me! Help me to escape. I might throw myself into the bay,
+but I can swim. I should not like to die when life is so sweet and
+beautiful, and I am afraid I should try to save myself or some one might
+rescue me. Oh, believe it is no lie! I do not want to marry him."
+
+"You have another lover?" The eyes seemed to pierce her through, as if
+sure of an affirmative.
+
+"I have no lover, not even in Detroit. I do not like love. It is foolish
+and full of hot kisses, and I do not want to marry. Oh, save me if you
+have any pity! Help me to escape!"
+
+She slipped down at the Indian girl's feet and caught at the garment of
+feathers so smooth and soft it seemed like satin.
+
+"See here." The visitor put her hand in her bosom and drew forth a small
+dagger with a pearl hilt in which was set jewels. Jeanne shuddered, but
+remained on her knees, glancing up piteously.
+
+"See here. I came to kill you. I said no French girl, be she beautiful
+as moonlight on the lake, shall marry Louis Marsac. He belongs to me. No
+woman shall be folded in his arms or lie on his breast or rejoice in the
+kisses of his mouth and live! I cannot understand. When one has tasted
+the sweetness--and he is so handsome, not so different from his mother's
+race but that I am a fit mate for him. My father was a chief, and there
+was a quarrel between him and a relative who claimed the right, and he
+was killed. Ah, you can never know how good and tender Louis was to me,
+so different from most of the clumsy Canadian traders; next, I think, to
+the great White Chief of the island; yes, handsomer, though not as
+large. All the winter and spring he loved me. And this cabin was mine. I
+came here many times. He loves me unless you have stolen his heart with
+some evil charm. Stand up; see. I am as tall as you. My skin is fine and
+clear, if not as pale as the white faces; and yours--pouf! you have no
+rose in your cheeks. Is not my mouth made for kisses? I like those that
+burn as fire running through your veins. And my hand--" she caught
+Jeanne's hand and compared them. "It is as slim and soft, and the pink
+is under the nails. And my hair is like a veil, reaching to my knees.
+Yes, I am a fitter mate than you, who are naught but a child, with no
+shape that fills a man with admiration. Is it that you have worked some
+evil charm?"
+
+Jeanne's eyes were distended with horror. Now that death and escape were
+near she shrank with the fear of all young things who have known naught
+of life but its joy. She could not even beg, her tongue seemed
+paralyzed.
+
+They would have made a statue worthy of a sculptor as they stood there,
+the Indian girl in her splendid attire and the utmost beauty of her
+race, with the dagger in one hand; and the girl, pale now as a snow
+wreath, at her feet.
+
+"Would you go away, escape?" Some curious thoughts had flashed into
+Owaissa's brain.
+
+"Oh, help me, help me! I will beg my way back to Detroit. I will pray
+that all his love may be given to you; morning and night I will pray on
+my knees. Oh, believe, believe!"
+
+The Indian girl could not doubt her sincerity. But with the injustice of
+a passionate, jealous love she did not so much blame her recreant
+lover. Some charm, some art, must have been used, perhaps by a third
+person, and the girl be guiltless. And if she could send her away and
+remain in her stead--
+
+She gave a soft, musical ripple of laughter. So pretty Minnehaha must
+have laughed when Longfellow caught the sound in his charmed brain. She
+put up her dagger. She raised Jeanne, wondering, but no longer afraid.
+This was the miracle she had prayed for and it had come to pass.
+
+"Listen. You shall go. The night comes on and it is a long sail; but you
+will not be afraid. The White Chief will take you in, but when you tell
+your story say it was Indians who stole you. For if you bring any harm
+to Louis Marsac I will follow you and kill you even if it were leagues
+beyond sunset, in the wild land that no one has penetrated. Remember.
+Promise by the great Manitou. Kiss my hand;" and she held it out.
+
+Jeanne obeyed. Could escape be so near? Her heart beats almost strangled
+her.
+
+"Wanita is my faithful slave. He will do my bidding and you need not be
+afraid. My canoe lies down below there," and she indicated the southern
+end with a motion of her head. "You will take this ring to him and he
+will know that the message comes from me. Oh, you will not hesitate?"
+
+Jeanne raised her head proudly. "I will obey you to the letter. But--how
+will I find him?"
+
+"You will go off the boat and walk down below the dock. There is a clump
+of scrub pines blown awry; then a little cove; the boat lies there; you
+will say 'Wanita,' twice; he will come and you will give him the ring;
+then he will believe you."
+
+"But how shall I get off the boat? And how did you get the key? And
+Noko--"
+
+"I had a key. It was mine all the early spring. I used to come and we
+sailed around, but I would not be a wife until a French priest could
+marry us, and he said 'wait, wait,' and an Indian girl is proud to obey
+the man she loves. And when it was time for him to return I came down
+from the Strait and heard--this--that his heart had been stolen from me
+and that when Father Hugon did not come he was very angry and has gone
+up to the island. They have much illness there it seems."
+
+"Then I give you back all I ever had, oh, so gladly."
+
+"Your father, perhaps, wanted him and saw some woman who dealt in
+charms?"
+
+"I have no father or mother. A poor old Indian woman cares for me. She
+was my nurse, everything. Oh, her heart will be broken! And this White
+Chief will surely let me go to Detroit?"
+
+"He is good and gracious to all, and just. That is why you must not
+mention Marsac's name, for he might not understand about the wicked
+go-between. There are _shil loups_, spirits of wretched people who
+wander about making mischief. But I must believe thee. Thine eyes are
+truthful."
+
+She brushed Jeanne's hair from her forehead and looked keenly,
+questioningly into them. They met the glance with the shine of
+innocence and truth that never wavered in their heavenly blue.
+
+"The White Chief has boats that go up and down continually. You will get
+safely to Detroit."
+
+"And you?" inquired Jeanne.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+
+RESCUED.
+
+
+"And you?" repeated Jeanne Angelot when Owaissa seemed lost in thought.
+
+"I shall remain here. When Louis Marsac comes I will break the fatal
+spell that bound him, and the priest will marry us. I shall make him
+very happy, for we are kindred blood; happier than any cool-blooded,
+pale-face girl could dream. And now you must set out. The sun is going
+down. You will not be faint of heart?"
+
+"I shall be so glad! And I shall be praying to the good Christ and his
+Mother to make you happy and give you all of Louis Marsac's heart. No, I
+shall not be afraid. And you are quite sure the White Chief will
+befriend me?"
+
+"Oh, yes. And his wife is of Indian blood, a great Princess from Hudson
+Bay, and the handsomest woman of the North, the kindest and most
+generous to those in sorrow or trouble. The White Queen she is called.
+Oh, yes, if I had a sister that needed protection, I should send her to
+the White Queen. Oh, do not be afraid." Then she took both of Jeanne's
+hands in hers and kissed her on the forehead. "I am glad I did not have
+to kill you," she added with the naive innocence of perfect truth. "I
+think you are the kind of girl out of whom they make nuns, who care for
+no men but the fathers, and yet they must adore some one. In thy convent
+cell pray for me that I may have brave sons."
+
+Jeanne made no protest against the misconstruction. Her heart was filled
+with gratitude and wonder, yet she could hardly believe.
+
+"You must take my blanket," and Owaissa began draping it about her.
+
+"But--Noko?" said the French girl.
+
+"Noko is soundly asleep. And the sailors are throwing dice or drinking
+rum. Their master cannot be back until dark. Go your way proudly, as if
+you had the blood of a hundred braves in your veins. They are often a
+cowardly set, challenging those who are weak and fearful. Do not mind."
+
+"Oh, the good Father bless you forevermore." Jeanne caught the hands and
+covered them with kisses. "And you will not be afraid of--of _his_
+anger?"
+
+"I am not afraid. I am glad I came, though it was with such a desperate
+purpose. Here is my ring," and she slipped it on Jeanne's finger. "Give
+it to Wanita when you are landed. He is faithful to me and this is our
+seal."
+
+She unlocked the door. Noko was in a little heap on the mat, snoring.
+
+"Go straight over. Never mind the men. You will see the plank, and then
+go round the little point. Adieu. I wish thee a safe voyage home."
+
+Jeanne pressed the hands again. She was like one in a dream. She felt
+afraid the men would question her, perhaps order her back. Two of them
+were asleep. She tripped down the plank, turned the corner of the dock
+and saw the clump of trees. Still she hardly dared breathe until she had
+passed it and found the canoe beached, and a slim young Indian pacing up
+and down.
+
+"Wanita, Wanita!" she exclaimed, timorously.
+
+He studied her in surprise. Yes, that was her blanket. "Mistress--"
+going closer, and then hesitating.
+
+"Here is her ring, Owaissa's ring. And she bade me--she stays on the
+boat. Louis Marsac comes with a priest."
+
+"Then it was a lie, an awful black lie they told my mistress about his
+marrying a French girl! By all the moons in a twelvemonth she is his
+wife. And you--" studying her with severe scrutiny.
+
+"I am the French girl. It was a mistake. But I must get away, and she
+sends me to the White Chief. She said one could trust you to the death."
+
+"I would go to the death for my beautiful mistress. The White
+Chief--yes."
+
+Then he helped her into the canoe and made her comfortable with the
+blankets.
+
+"I wish it were earlier," he exclaimed. "The purple spirits of the night
+are stretching out their hands. You will not be afraid? It is a long
+pull."
+
+"Oh, no, no!" She drew a relieved breath, but every pulse had been so
+weighted with anxiety for days that she could not realize her freedom.
+Oh, how good the blessed air felt! All the wide expanse about her
+brought a thrill of delight, still not unmixed with fear. A boat came
+bearing down upon them and she held her breath, but the canoe moved
+aside adroitly.
+
+"They were drunken fellows, no doubt," said Wanita. "It is told of the
+Sieur Cadillac that he weakened the rum and would allow a man only so
+much. It is a pity there is no such strictness now. The White Chief
+tries."
+
+"Is he chief of the Indians?" she asked, vaguely.
+
+"Oh, no. He is in the great council of the fur traders, but he has ever
+been fair to the Indians; strict, too, and they honor him, believe in
+him, and do his bidding. That is, most of them do. He settles many
+quarrels. It is not now as it used to be. Since the coming of the white
+men tribes have been split in parts and chiefs of the same nation fight
+for power. He tries to keep peace between them and the whites. There
+would be many wars without him."
+
+"But he is not an Indian?"
+
+"Oh, no. He came from Canada to the fur country. He had known great
+sorrow. His wife and child had been massacred by the red men. And then
+he married a beautiful Indian princess somewhere about Hudson Bay. He
+had so many men under him that they called him the White Chief, and
+partly, I think, because he was so noble and large and grand. Then he
+built his house on the island where one side is perpendicular rocks, and
+fortified it and made of it a most lovely home for his beautiful wife.
+She has everything from all countries, it is said, and the house is
+grand as the palaces at Montreal. They have two sons. They come over to
+Fort St. Ignace and Michilimackinac, and he has taken her to Quebec,
+where, it is said, she was entertained like a queen. He is very proud of
+her and adores her. Ah, if you could see him you would know at once that
+he was a grand man. But courageous and high spirited as he is, he is
+always counseling peace. There is much bitter feeling still between the
+French and English, and now, since the Americans have conquered, the
+English are stirring up strife with the Indians, it is said. He advises
+them to make homes and settle peaceably, and hunt at the north where
+there is still plenty of game. He has bought tracts of land for them,
+but my nation are not like the white men. They despise work." Jeanne
+knew that well.
+
+Then Wanita asked her about Detroit. He had been up North; his mistress
+had lived at Mackinaw and St. Ignace. All the spring she had been about
+Lake Superior, which was grand, and the big lake on the other side, Lake
+Michigan. Sometimes he had cared for M. Marsac's boat.
+
+"M. Marsac was your lady's lover."
+
+"Oh, Mam'selle, he was devoted before he went to Detroit. He is rich and
+handsome, you see, and there are many women smiling on him. There were
+at Mackinaw. The white ladies do not mind a little Indian blood when
+there is money. But Owaissa is for him, and she will be as grand a lady
+as the White Queen."
+
+Wanita wished in his secret soul Louis Marsac was as grand as the White
+Chief. But few men were.
+
+And now the twilight was gone and the broad sheet of water was weird,
+moving blackness. The canoe seemed so frail, that used as she was to it
+Jeanne drew in fear with every breath. If there were only a moon! It was
+cold, too. She drew the blanket closer round her.
+
+"Are we almost there?" she inquired.
+
+"Oh, no, Mam'selle. Are you tired? If you could sing to pass away the
+time."
+
+Jeanne essayed some French songs, but her heart was not light enough.
+Then they lapsed into silence. On and on--there was no wind and they
+were out of the strongest current, so there was no danger.
+
+What was Owaissa doing, thinking? Had Louis Marsac returned with the
+priest? Was it true she had come to kill her, Jeanne? How strange one
+should love a man so deeply, strongly! She shuddered. She had only cared
+for quiet and pleasant wanderings and Pani. Perhaps it was all some
+horrid dream. Or was it true one could be bewitched?
+
+Sometimes she drowsed. She recalled the night she had slept against the
+Huron's knee. Would the hours or the journey ever come to an end? She
+said over the rosary and all the prayers she could remember,
+interspersing them with thanksgivings to the good God and to Owaissa.
+
+Something black and awful loomed up before her. She uttered a cry.
+
+"We are here. It is nothing to be afraid of. We go around to this side,
+so. There is a little basin here, and a sort of wharf. It is almost a
+fort;" and he laughed lightly as he helped her out on to dry ground,
+stony though it was.
+
+"I will find the gate. The White Chief has this side well picketed, and
+there are enough within to defend it against odds, if the odds ever
+come. Now, here is the gate and I must ring. Do not be frightened, it is
+always closed at dusk."
+
+The clang made Jeanne jump, and cling to her guide.
+
+There was a step after a long while. A plate was pushed partly aside and
+a voice said through the grating:--
+
+"What is it?"
+
+"It is I, Wanita, Loudac. I have some one who has been in danger, a
+little maid from Detroit, stolen away by Indians. My mistress Owaissa
+begs shelter for her until she can be returned. It was late when she was
+rescued from her enemies and we stole away by night."
+
+"How many of you?"
+
+"The maid and myself, and--our canoe," with a light laugh. "The canoe is
+fastened to a stake. And I must go back, so there is but one to throw
+upon your kindness."
+
+"Wait," said the gate keeper. There were great bolts to be withdrawn and
+chains rattled. Presently the creaking gate opened a little way and the
+light of a lantern flared out. Jeanne was dazed for an instant.
+
+"I will not come in, good Loudac. It is a long way back and my mistress
+may need me. Here is the maid," and he gave Jeanne a gentle push.
+
+"From Detroit?" The interlocutor was a stout Canadian and seemed
+gigantic to Jeanne. "And 'scaped from the Indians. Lucky they did not
+spell, it with another letter and leave no top to thy head. Wanita, lad,
+thou hadst better come in and have a sup of wine. Or remain all night."
+
+But Wanita refused with cordial thanks.
+
+"Here is the ring;" and Jeanne pressed it in his hand. "And a thousand
+thanks, tell your brave mistress."
+
+With a quick adieu he was gone.
+
+"I must find shelter for you to-night, for our lady cannot be
+disturbed," he said. "Come this way."
+
+The bolts and chains were put in place again. Jeanne followed her guide
+up some steps and through another gate. There was a lodge and a light
+within. A woman in a short gown of blue and a striped petticoat looked
+out of the doorway and made a sharp inquiry.
+
+"A maid who must tell her own story, good dame, for my wits seem
+scattered. She hath been sent by Owaissa the Indian maiden and brought
+by her servitor in a canoe. Tell thy story, child."
+
+"She is shivering with the cold and looks blue as a midwinter icicle.
+She must have some tea to warm her up. Stir a fire, Loudac."
+
+Jeanne sat trembling and the tears ran down her cheeks. In a moment
+there was a fragrant blaze of pine boughs, and a kettle swung over them.
+
+"A little brandy would be better," said the man.
+
+Now that the strain was over Jeanne felt as if all her strength had
+given way. Was she really safe? The hearty French accent sounded like
+home; and the dark, round face, with the almost laughing black eyes,
+albeit there were wrinkles around them, cheered her inmost heart. The
+tea was soon made and the brandy added a piquant flavor.
+
+"Thou wert late starting on thy journey," said the woman, a tint of
+suspicion in her voice.
+
+"It was only this afternoon that the Indian maid Owaissa found me and
+heard my story. For safety she sent me away at once. Perhaps in the
+daytime I might have been pursued."
+
+"True, true. An Indian knows best about Indian ways. Most of them are a
+treacherous, bad lot, made much worse by drink, but there are a few. The
+maiden Owaissa comes from the Strait."
+
+"To meet her lover it was said. He is that handsome half or quarter
+breed, Louis Marsac, a shrewd trader for one so young, and who, with his
+father, is delving in the copper mines of Lake Superior. Yes. What went
+before, child?"
+
+She was glad to leave Marsac. Could she tell her story without
+incriminating him? The first part went smoothly enough. Then she
+hesitated and felt her color rising. "It was at Bois Blanc," she said.
+"They had left me alone. The beautiful Indian girl was there, and I
+begged her to save me. I told her my story and she wrapped me in her
+blanket. We were much the same size, and though I trembled so that my
+knees bent under me, I went off the boat without any question. Wanita
+was waiting with the canoe and brought me over."
+
+"Were you not afraid--and there was no moon?"
+
+Jeanne raised her eyes to the kindly ones.
+
+"Oh, yes," she answered with a shiver. "Lake Huron is so large, only
+there are islands scattered about. But when it grew very dark I simply
+trusted Wanita."
+
+"And he could go in a canoe to the end of the world if it was all lakes
+and rivers," exclaimed Loudac. "These Indians--did you know their
+tribe?"
+
+"I think two were Hurons. They could talk bad French," and she smiled.
+"And Chippewa, that I can understand quite well."
+
+"Were your relatives in Detroit rich people?"
+
+"Oh, no, I have none." Then Jeanne related her simple story.
+
+"Strange! strange!" Loudac stroked his beard and drew his bushy eyebrows
+together. "There could have been no thought of ransom. I mistrust,
+pretty maid, that it must have been some one who watched thee and wanted
+thee for his squaw. Up in the wild North there would have been little
+chance to escape. Thou hast been fortunate in finding Owaissa. Her
+lover's boat came in at Bois Blanc. I suppose she went to meet him.
+Dame, it is late, and the child looks tired as one might well be after a
+long journey. Canst thou not find her a bed?"
+
+The bed was soon improvised. Jeanne thanked her protectors with
+overflowing eyes and tremulous voice. For a long while she knelt in
+thanksgiving, her simple faith discerning a real miracle in her escape.
+Surely God had sent Owaissa. She forgot the fell purpose of the Indian
+girl, and wondered at her love for Louis Marsac.
+
+There was much confusion and noise among the children the next morning
+while the dame was giving them their breakfast, but Jeanne slept soundly
+until they were all out at play. The sun shone as she opened her eyes,
+and one ray slanted across the window. Oh, where was she, in prison
+still? Then, by slow degrees, yesterday came back to her.
+
+The dame greeted her cheerily, and set before her a simple breakfast
+that tasted most delicious. Loudac had gone up to the great house.
+
+"For when the White Chief is away, Loudac has charge of everything. Once
+he saved the master's life, he was his servant then, and since that time
+he has been the head of all matters. The White Chief trusts him like a
+brother. But look you, both of them came from France and there is no
+mixed blood in them. Rough as Loudac seems his mother was of gentle
+birth, and he can read and write not only French but English, and is a
+judge of fine furs and understands business. He is shrewd to know people
+as well," and she gave a satisfied smile.
+
+"The White Chief is away--"
+
+"He has gone up to Michilimackinac, perhaps to Hudson Bay. But all goes
+on here just the same. Loudac has things well in hand."
+
+"I would like to return to Detroit," ventured Jeanne, timidly, glancing
+up with beseeching eyes.
+
+"That thou shalt, _ma petite_. There will be boats going down before
+cold weather. The winter comes early here, and yet it is not so cold as
+one would think, with plenty of furs and fire."
+
+"And the--the queen--" hesitatingly.
+
+The dame laughed heartsomely.
+
+"Thou shalt see her. She is our delight, our dear mistress, and has many
+names given her by her loving chief. It is almost ten years ago that he
+found her up North, a queen then with a little band of braves who adored
+her. They had come from some far country. She was not of their tribe;
+she is as white almost as thou, and tall and handsome and soft of voice
+as the sweetest singing bird. Then they fell in love with each other,
+and the good pere at Hudson Bay married them. He brought her here. She
+bought the island because it seemed fortified with the great rocks on
+two sides of it. Often they go away, for he has a fine vessel that is
+like a palace in its fittings. They have been to Montreal and out on
+that wild, strange coast full of islands. Whatever she wishes is hers."
+
+Jeanne sighed a little, but not from envy.
+
+"There are two boys, twins, and a little daughter born but two years
+ago. The boys are big and handsome, and wild as deer. But their father
+will have them run and climb and shout and play ball and shoot arrows,
+but not go out alone in a boat. Yet they can swim like fishes. Come, if
+you can eat no more breakfast, let us go out. I do not believe Detroit
+can match this, though it is larger."
+
+There was a roadway about the palisades with two gates near either end,
+then a curiously laid up stone wall where the natural rocks had failed.
+Here on this plateau were cottages and lodges. Canadians, some trusty
+Indians, and a sprinkling of half-breeds made a settlement, it would
+seem. There were gardens abloom, fruit trees and grapevines, making a
+pleasant odor in the early autumnal sun. There were sheep pasturing, a
+herd of tame, beautiful deer, cows in great sheds, and fowl
+domesticated, while doves went circling around overhead. Still another
+wall almost hid the home of the White Chief, the name he was best known
+by, and as one might say at that time a name to conjure with, for he was
+really the manipulator of many of the Indian tribes, and endeavored to
+keep the peace among them and deal fairly with them in the fur trading.
+To the English he had proved a trusty neighbor, to the French a true
+friend, though his advice was not always palatable.
+
+"Oh, it is beautiful!" cried Jeanne. "Something like the farms outside
+of the palisades at home. Inside--" she made a pretty gesture of
+dissatisfaction,--"the town is crowded and dirty and full of bad smells,
+except at the end where some of the officers and the court people and
+the rich folk live. They are building some new places up by the military
+gardens and St. Anne's Church, and beside the little river, where
+everything keeps green and which is full of ducks and swans and herons.
+And the great river is such a busy place since the Americans came. But
+they have not so many soldiers in the garrison, and we miss the glitter
+of the scarlet and the gold lace and the music they used to have. Still
+the flag is beautiful; and most people seem satisfied. I like the
+Americans," Jeanne said proudly.
+
+The dame shook her head, but not in disapprobation altogether.
+
+"The world is getting much mixed," she said. "I think the English still
+feel bitter, but the French accept. Loudac hears the White Chief talk of
+a time when all shall live together peaceably and, instead of trying to
+destroy each other and their cities and towns, they will join hands in
+business and improvement. For that is why the Indians perish and leave
+so few traces,--they are bent upon each other's destruction, so the
+villages and fields are laid waste and people die of starvation. There
+are great cities in Europe, I have heard, that have stood hundreds of
+years, and palaces and beautiful churches, and things last through many
+generations. Loudac was in a town called Paris, when he was a little
+boy, and it is like a place reared by fairy hands."
+
+"Oh, yes, Madame, it is a wonderful city. I have read about it and seen
+pictures," said Jeanne, eagerly.
+
+"There are books and pictures up at the great house. And here comes
+Loudac."
+
+"Ha! my bright Morning Star, you look the better for a night's sleep. I
+have been telling Miladi about our frightened refugee, and she wishes to
+see you. Will it please you to come now?"
+
+Jeanne glanced from one to the other.
+
+"Oh, you need not feel afraid, you that have escaped Indians and crossed
+the lake in the night. For Miladi, although the wife of the great White
+Chief, and grand enough when necessary, is very gentle and kindly; is
+she not, dame?"
+
+The dame laughed. "Run along, _petite_," she said. "I must attend to the
+house."
+
+Inside this inclosure there was a really beautiful garden, a tiny park
+it might be justly called. Birds of many kinds flew about, others of
+strange plumage were in latticed cages. The walks were winding to make
+the place appear larger; there was a small lake with water plants and
+swans, and beds of brilliant flowers, trees that gave shade, vines that
+distributed fragrance with every passing breeze. Here in a dainty nest,
+that was indeed a vine-covered porch, sat a lady in a chair that
+suggested a throne to Jeanne, who thought she had never seen anyone so
+beautiful. She was not fair like either English or French, but the
+admixture of blood had given her a fine, creamy skin and large brownish
+eyes that had the softness of a fawn's. Every feature was clearly cut
+and perfect. Jeanne thought of a marble head that stood on the shelf of
+the minister's study at Detroit that was said to have come from a far
+country called Italy.
+
+As for her attire, that was flowered silk and fine lace, and some jewels
+on her arms and fingers in golden settings that glittered like the rays
+of sunrise when she moved them. There were buckles of gems on her
+slippers, and stockings of strangely netted silk where the ivory flesh
+shone through.
+
+Jeanne dropped on her knees at the vision, and it smiled on her. No
+saint at the Recollet house was half as fair.
+
+"This is the little voyager cast upon our shore, Miladi," explained
+Loudac with a bow and a touch of his hand to his head. "But Wanita did
+not wreck her, only left her in our safe keeping until she can be
+returned to her friends."
+
+"Sit here, Mam'selle," and Miladi pointed to a cushion near her. Her
+French was musical and soft. "It is quite a story, and not such an
+unusual one either. Many maidens, I think, have been taken from home and
+friends, and have finally learned to be satisfied with a life they would
+not have chosen. You came from Detroit, Loudac says."
+
+"Yes, Miladi," Jeanne answered, timidly.
+
+"Do not be afraid." The lady laughed with ripples like a little stream
+dropping over pebbly ways. "There is a story that my mother shared a
+like fate, only she had to grow content with strange people and a
+strange land. How was it? I have a taste for adventures."
+
+Jeanne's girlish courage and spirits came back in a flash. Yet she told
+her story carefully, bridging the little space where so much was left
+out.
+
+"Owaissa is a courageous maiden. It is said she carries a dagger which
+she would not be afraid to use. She has some strange power over the
+Indians. Her father was wronged out of his chieftaincy and then
+murdered. She demanded the blood price, and his enemies were given up to
+the tribe that took her under their protection. Yet I wonder a little
+that she should choose Louis Marsac. The White Chief, my husband, does
+not think him quite true in all his dealings, especially with women. But
+if he trifled with her there would be a tragedy."
+
+Jeanne shuddered. The tragedy had come so near.
+
+Miladi asked some questions hard for Jeanne to answer with truth; how
+she had come up the lake, and if her captors had treated her well.
+
+"It seems quite mysterious," she said.
+
+Then they talked about Detroit, and Jeanne's past life, and Miladi was
+more puzzled than ever.
+
+A slim young Indian woman brought in the baby, a dainty girl of two
+years old, who ran swiftly to her mother and began chattering in French
+with pretty broken words, and looking shyly at the guest. Then there was
+a great shout and a rush as of a flock of birds.
+
+"I beat Gaston, maman, six out of ten shots."
+
+"But two arrows broke. They were good for nothing," interrupted the
+second boy.
+
+"And can't Antoine take us out fishing--" the boy stopped and came close
+to Jeanne, wonderingly.
+
+"This is Mademoiselle Jeanne," their mother said, "Robert and Gaston.
+Being twins there is no elder."
+
+They were round, rosy, sunburned boys, with laughing eyes and lithe
+figures.
+
+"Can you swim?" queried Robert.
+
+"Oh, yes," and a bright smile crossed Jeanne's face.
+
+"And paddle a canoe and row?"
+
+"Yes, indeed. Many a time in the Strait, with the beautiful green shores
+opposite."
+
+"What strait, Mackinaw?"
+
+"Oh, no. It is the river Detroit, but often called a strait."
+
+"You can't manage a bow!" declared Robert.
+
+"Yes. And fire a pistol. And--run."
+
+"And climb trees?" The dark eyes were alight with mirth.
+
+"Why, yes." Then Jeanne glanced deprecatingly at Miladi, so elegant, so
+refined, if the word had come to her, but it remained in the chaos of
+thought. "I was but a wild little thing in childhood, and there was no
+one except Pani--my Indian nurse."
+
+"Then come and run a race. The Canadians are clumsy fellows."
+
+Robert grasped her arm. Gaston stood tilted on one foot, as if he could
+fly.
+
+"Oh, boys, you are too rough! Mam'selle will think you worse than wild
+Indians."
+
+"I should like to run with them, Miladi." Jeanne's eyes sparkled, and
+she was a child again.
+
+"As thou wilt." Miladi smiled and nodded. So much of the delight of her
+soul was centered in these two handsome, fearless boys beloved by their
+father. Once she remembered she had felt almost jealous.
+
+"I will give you some odds," cried Jeanne. "I will not start until you
+have reached the pole of the roses."
+
+"No! no! no!" they shouted. "Girls cannot run at the end of the race.
+There we will win," and they laughed gayly.
+
+They were fleet as deer. Jeanne did not mean to outstrip them, but she
+was seized with enthusiasm. It was as if she had wings to her feet and
+they would not lag, even if the head desired it. She was breathless,
+with flying hair and brilliant color, as she reached the goal and turned
+to see two brave but disappointed faces.
+
+"I told you it was not fair," she began. "I am larger than you, taller
+and older. You should have had odds."
+
+"But we can always beat Berthe Loudac, and she is almost as big as you.
+And some of the Indian boys."
+
+"Let us try it again. Now I will give you to the larch tree."
+
+They started off, looking back when they reached that point and saw her
+come flying. She was not so eager now and held back toward the last.
+Gaston came in with a shout of triumph and in two seconds Robert was at
+the goal. She laughed joyously. Their mother leaning over a railing
+laughed also and waved her handkerchief as they both glanced up.
+
+"How old are you?" asked Robert.
+
+"Almost sixteen, I believe."
+
+"And we are eight."
+
+"That is twice as old."
+
+"And when we are sixteen we will run twice as fast, faster than the
+Indians. We shall win the races. We are going up North then. Don't you
+want to go?"
+
+Jeanne shook her head.
+
+"But then girls do not go fur hunting. Only the squaws follow, to make
+the fires and cook the meals. And you would be too pretty for a squaw.
+You must be a lady like maman, and have plenty of servants. Oh, we will
+ask father to bring you a husband as strong and nice and big as he is!
+And then he will build you a lodge here. No one can have such a splendid
+house as maman; he once said so."
+
+"Come down to the palisade."
+
+They ran down together. The inhabitants of the cottages and lodges
+looked out after them, they were so gay and full of frolic. The gate was
+open and Robert peered out. Jeanne took a step forward. She was anxious
+to see what was beyond.
+
+"Don't." Gaston put out his arm to bar her. "We promised never to go
+outside without permission. Only a coward or a thief tells lies and
+breaks his word. If we could find Loudac."
+
+Loudac had gone over to Manitou. The dame had been baking some brown
+bread with spice seeds in it, and she gave them all a great slice. How
+good it tasted! Then they were off again, and when they reached the
+house their mother had gone in, for the porch was hot from the sun.
+
+Jeanne had never seen anything like it. The walls seemed set with
+wonderful stones and gems, some ground to facets. Long strips of
+embroidery in brilliant colors and curious designs parted them like
+frames. Here a border of wampum shells, white, pale grayish, pink and
+purple; there great flowers made of shells gathered from the shores of
+lakes and rivers. At the far end of the room were two Indian girls
+working on bead embroidery, another sewing rows of beautiful feathers in
+a border.
+
+The boys were eager to rehearse their good time.
+
+"If they have not tired you to death," said their mother.
+
+Jeanne protested that she had enjoyed it quite as much.
+
+"It is a luxury to have a new playfellow now that their father is away.
+They are so fond of him. Sometimes we all go."
+
+"When will he return, Madame?"
+
+"In a fortnight or so. Then he takes the long winter journey. That is a
+more dreary time, but we shut ourselves up and have blazing fires and
+work and read, and the time passes. There is the great hope at the end,"
+and she gave an exquisite smile.
+
+"But--Miladi--how can I get back to Detroit?"
+
+"Must thou go?" endearingly. "If there are no parents--"
+
+"But there is my poor Pani! And Detroit that I am so familiar with. Then
+I dare say they are all wondering."
+
+"Loudac will tell us when he comes back."
+
+Loudac had a budget of news. First there had been a marriage that very
+morning on the "Flying Star," the pretty boat of Louis Marsac, and
+Owaissa was the bride. There had been a feast given to the men, and the
+young mistress had stood before them to have her health drunk and
+receive the good wishes and a belt of wampum, with a lovely white
+doeskin cloak that was like velvet. Then they had set sail for Lake
+Superior.
+
+Jeanne was very glad of the friendly twilight. She felt her face grow
+red and cold by turns.
+
+"And the maiden Owaissa will be very happy," she said half in assertion,
+half inquiry.
+
+"He is smart and handsome, but tricky at times, and overfond of brandy.
+But if a girl gets the man she wants all is well for a time, at least."
+
+The next bit of news was that the "Return" would go to Detroit in four
+or five days.
+
+"Not direct, which will be less pleasant. For she goes first over to
+Barre, and then crosses the lake again and stops at Presque Isle. After
+that it is clear sailing. A boat of hides and freight goes down, but
+that would not be pleasant. To-morrow I will see the captain of the
+'Return.'"
+
+"Thou wouldst not like a winter among us here?" inquired the dame. "It
+is not so bad, and the boys at the great house are wild over thee."
+
+"Oh, I must go," Jeanne said, with breathless eagerness. "I shall
+remember all your kindness through my whole life."
+
+"Home is home," laughed good-humored Loudac.
+
+Very happy and light-hearted was Jeanne Angelot. There would be nothing
+more to fear from Louis Marsac. How had they settled it, she wondered.
+
+Owaissa had said that she sent the child home under proper escort. Louis
+Marsac ground his teeth, and yet--did he care so much for the girl only
+to gratify a mean revenge for one thing?--the other he was not quite
+sure of. At all events Jeanne Angelot would always be the loser. The
+Detroit foundling,--and he gave a short laugh like the snarl of a dog.
+
+Delightful as everything was, Jeanne counted the days. She was up at the
+great house and read to its lovely mistress, sang and danced with baby
+Angelique, taking hold of the tiny hands and swinging round in graceful
+circles, playing games with the boys and doing feats, and trying to
+laugh off the lamentations, which sometimes came near to tears.
+
+"How strange," said Miladi the last evening, "that we have never heard
+your family name. Or--had you none?"
+
+"Oh, yes, Madame. Some one took good care of that. It was written on a
+paper pinned to me; and," laughing, "pricked into my skin so I could not
+deny it. It is Jeanne Angelot. But there are no Angelots in Detroit."
+
+Miladi grasped her arm so tightly that Jeanne's breath came with a
+flutter.
+
+"Are there none? Are you quite sure?" There was a strained sound in her
+voice wont to be so musical.
+
+"Oh, yes. Father Rameau searched."
+
+Miladi dropped her arm.
+
+"It grows chilly," she said, presently. "Shall we go in, or--" Somehow
+her voice seemed changed.
+
+"I had better run down to the dame's. Good night, Miladi. I have been so
+happy. It is like a lovely dream of the summer under the trees. I am
+sorry I cannot be content to stay;" and she kissed the soft hand, that
+now was cold.
+
+Miladi made no reply. Only she stood still longer in the cold, and
+murmured, "Jeanne Angelot, Jeanne Angelot." And then she recalled a
+laughing remark of Gaston's only that morning:--
+
+"Jeanne has wintry blue eyes like my father's! Look, maman, the frost
+almost sparkles in them. And he says his came from the wonderful skies
+above the Arctic seas. Do you know where that is?"
+
+No, Jeanne did not know where that was. But there were plenty of
+blue-eyed people in Detroit.
+
+She ran down the steps in the light of the young crescent moon, and
+rubbed her arm a little where the fingers had almost made a dent.
+
+The next day the "Return" touched at the island. It was not at all out
+of her way, and the captain and Loudac were warm friends. The boys clung
+to Jeanne and would hardly let her go.
+
+"I wish my father could buy you for another sister," exclaimed Gaston
+hanging to her skirt. "If he were here he would not let you go, I am
+quite sure. It will take such a long while for Angelique to grow up, and
+then we shall be men."
+
+Did Miladi give her a rather formal farewell? It seemed as if something
+chilled Jeanne.
+
+Loudac and the dame were effusive enough to make amends. The "Return"
+was larger but not as jaunty as the "Flying Star," and it smelled
+strongly of salt fish. But Jeanne stepped joyously aboard--was she not
+going to La Belle Detroit? All her pulses thrilled with anticipation.
+Home! How sweet a word it was!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+
+A PAEAN OF GLADNESS.
+
+
+Jeanne's little cabin was very plain, but the window gave a nice lookout
+and could be opened at will. They would cross the lake and go down to
+Barre on the Canada side, and that would give a different view. Was the
+ocean so very much larger, she wondered in her inexperienced fashion.
+
+They passed a few boats going up. It was curiously lonely, with great
+reaches of stunted pines and scrubby hemlocks, then a space of rather
+sandy shore and wiry grasses that reared themselves stiffly. There was
+nothing to read. And now she wished for some sewing. She was glad enough
+when night came. The next morning the sky was overcast and there was a
+dull, threatening wind.
+
+"If we can make Barre before it storms," said Captain Mallard. "There is
+a good harbor, and a fierce east wind would drive us back to the other
+side."
+
+They fortunately made Barre before the storm broke in all its
+fierceness, but it was terrible! There was a roar over the lake as if a
+drove of bisons were tearing madly about. The great waves pounded and
+battered against the sides of the vessel as if they would break through,
+and the surf flew up from the point that jutted out and made the harbor.
+Gulls and bitterns went screaming, and Jeanne held her breath in very
+terror. Earth and lake and sky were one vast picture of desolation, for
+where the eye stopped the mind went on.
+
+All night and all the next day the storm continued beating and bruising.
+But at evening the wind fell, and Jeanne gave thanks with a hearty and
+humble mind, and slept that night. When she woke the sun was struggling
+through a sky of gray, with some faint yellow and green tints that came
+and went as if not sure of their way. By degrees a dull red commingled
+with them and a sulky sun showed his face.
+
+"It is well we were in a safe port, Mam'selle, for the storm has been
+terrible," explained the worthy captain. "As it is, in the darkness we
+have lost one man overboard, and a day must be spent in repairing. The
+little town is not much, but it might be a rest to go ashore."
+
+"Yes," said Jeanne, rather absently.
+
+"If you have a good blanket--the cold has sprung up suddenly. It is
+squaw winter, which comes sooner you know, like a woman's temper, and
+spends itself, clearing the way for smiles again."
+
+Dame Loudac had given her a fur cap with lappets that made a hood of it.
+She had Owaissa's blanket, and some warm leggings. The captain helped
+her ashore, but it was a most uncheerful outlook. A few streets with
+roughly built cottages, some shops at the wharf, a packing house with
+the refuse of fish about, and a wide stretch of level land on which the
+wind had swept the trees so fiercely that most of them leaned westward.
+
+"Oh, how can anyone live here!" cried Jeanne with a shiver, contrasting
+it with the beautiful island home of the White Chief.
+
+The inhabitants were mostly French, rugged, with dull faces and clumsy
+figures. They looked curiously at Jeanne and then went on with their
+various employments.
+
+But the walk freshened her and dispelled the listlessness. She gathered
+a few shells on one strip of sandy beach, and watched many curious
+creeping things. A brown lizard glided in and out of some tufts of sedge
+grass; a great flock of birds high up in the air went flying southward.
+Many gulls ran along with their shrill cries.
+
+Oh, if she were at home! Would she ever reach there? For now gay-hearted
+Jeanne seemed suddenly dispirited.
+
+All the day kept cold, though at sunset the western sky blazed out with
+glory and the wind died down. Captain Mallard would not start until
+morning, however, and though the air had a keenness in it the sun gave
+out a promising warmth.
+
+Then they made Presque Isle, where there was much unloading, and some
+stores to be taken on board. After that it grew warmer and Jeanne
+enjoyed being on deck, and the memory of how she had come up the lake
+was like a vague dream. They sailed past beautiful shores, islands where
+vegetation was turning brown and yellow; here marshes still a vivid
+green, there great clumps of trees with scarlet branches dancing in the
+sun, the hickories beginning to shrivel and turn yellow, the evergreens
+black in the shady places. At night the stars came out and the moon
+swelled in her slender body, her horns losing their distinct outlines.
+
+But Jeanne had no patience even with the mysterious, beautiful night.
+The autumn was dying slowly, and she wondered who brought wood for Pani;
+if she sat by the lonely fire! It seemed months since she had been taken
+away.
+
+Yes, here was the familiar lake, the shores she knew so well. She could
+have danced for very gladness, though her eyes were tear-wet. And here
+it narrowed into the river, and oh, was there ever such a blessed sight!
+Every familiar point looked beautiful to her. There were some boats
+hurrying out, the captains hoping to make a return trip. But the
+crowded, businesslike aspect of summer was over.
+
+They pushed along to the King's wharf. It seemed to her all were strange
+faces. Was it really Detroit? St. Anne's bell came rolling down its
+sweet sound. The ship crunched, righted itself, crunched again, the rope
+was thrown out and made fast.
+
+"Mam'selle," said the captain, "we are in."
+
+She took his hand, the mute gratitude in her eyes, in her whole face;
+its sweetness touched him.
+
+"I hope you will find your friends well."
+
+"Oh, thank you!" she cried, with a long drawn breath. "Yes, that is my
+prayer."
+
+He was handing her off. The crowd, not very large, indeed, was all a
+blur before her eyes. She touched the ground, then she dropped on her
+knees.
+
+"No, no," to some one who would have raised her. "I must say a prayer,
+for I have come back to my own loved Detroit, my home. Oh, let me give
+thanks."
+
+"The saints be praised! It is Jeanne Angelot."
+
+She rose as suddenly as she had knelt. Up the narrow street she ran,
+while the astonished throng looked after her.
+
+"Holy Mother defend us!" and a man crossed himself devoutly. "It is no
+living being, it is a ghost."
+
+For she had disappeared. The wondering eyes glanced on vacancy,
+stupefied.
+
+"I said she was dead from the first. She would never have gone off and
+left the poor Pani woman to die of grief. She sits there alone day after
+day, and now she will not eat, though Dame Margot and the Indian woman
+Wenonah try to comfort her. And this is Jeanne's spirit come for her.
+You will find her dead body in the cottage. Ah, I have seen the sign."
+
+"It was a strange disappearance!"
+
+"The captain can tell," said another, "for if she was rescued from the
+Indians he must have brought her down."
+
+"Yes, yes," and they rushed in search of the captain, wild with
+superstition and excitement.
+
+It was really Jeanne Angelot. She had been rescued and left at Bois
+Blanc, and then taken over to another island. A pretty, sweet young girl
+and no ghost, Jeanne Angelot by name.
+
+Jeanne sped on like a sprite, drawing her cap over her face. Ah, the
+familiar ways and sights, the stores here, the booths shut, for the
+outdoors trade was mostly over, the mingled French and English, the
+patois, the shouts to the horses and dogs and to the pedestrians to get
+out of the way. She glanced up St. Anne's street, she passed the
+barrack, where some soldiers sat in the sunshine cleaning up their
+accouterments. Children were playing games, as the space was wider here.
+The door of the cottage was closed. There was a litter on the steps,
+dead leaves blown into the corners and crushed.
+
+"O Pani! Pani!" she cried, and her heart stood still, her limbs
+trembled.
+
+The door was not locked. The shutter had been closed and the room was
+dark, coming out of the sunshine. There was not even a blaze on the
+hearth. A heap of something at the side--her sight grew clearer, a
+blanketed bundle, oh, yes--
+
+"Pani! Pani!" she cried again, all the love and longing of months in her
+voice--"Pani, it is I, Jeanne come back to you. Oh, surely God would not
+let you die now!"
+
+She was tearing away the wrappings. She found the face and kissed it
+with a passion of tenderness. It was cold, but not with the awful
+coldness of death. The lips murmured something. The hands took hold of
+her feebly.
+
+"It is Jeanne," she cried again, "your own Jeanne, who loves you with
+all her heart and soul, Jeanne, whom the good God has sent back to you,"
+and then the tears and kisses mingled in a rain on the poor old wrinkled
+face.
+
+"Jeanne," Pani said in a quavering voice, in which there was no
+realizing joy. Her lifeless fingers touched the warm, young face, wet
+with tears. "_Petite_ Jeanne!"
+
+"Your own Jeanne come back to you. Oh, Pani, you are cold and there is
+no fire. And all this dreary time--but the good God has sent me back,
+and I shall stay always, always--"
+
+She ran and opened the shutter. The traces of Pani's careful
+housekeeping were gone. Dust was everywhere, and even food was standing
+about as Wenonah had brought it in last night, while piles of furs and
+blankets were lying in a corner, waiting to be put up.
+
+"Now we must have a fire," she began, cheerily; and, shivering with the
+chill herself, she stirred the embers and ashes about. There was no lack
+of fuel. In a moment the flames began a heartsome sound, and the scarlet
+rays went climbing and racing over the twigs. There was a fragrant
+warmth, a brightness, but it showed the wan, brown face, almost ashen
+color from paleness, and the lack-luster eyes.
+
+"Pani!" Jeanne knelt before her and shook back the curls, smiled when
+she would fain have cried over the pitiful wreck, and at that moment she
+hated Louis Marsac more bitterly than ever. "Pani, dear, wake up. You
+have been asleep and dreamed bad dreams. Wake up, dear, my only love."
+
+Some consciousness stirred vaguely. It was as if she made a great
+effort, and the pale lips moved, but no sound came from them. Still the
+eyes lost some of their vacancy, the brow showed lines of thought.
+
+"Jeanne," she murmured again. "_Petite_ Jeanne. Did some one take you
+away? Or was it a dream?"
+
+"I am here, your own Jeanne. Look at the fire blaze. Now you will be
+warm, and remember, and we will both give thanks. Nothing shall ever
+part us again."
+
+Pani made an attempt to rise but fell back limply. Some one opened the
+door--it was Margot, who uttered a cry of affright and stood as if she
+was looking at a ghost, her eyes full of terror.
+
+"I have come back," began Jeanne in a cheerful tone. "Some Indians
+carried me away. I have been almost up to the Straits, and a good
+captain brought me home. Has she been ill?" motioning to Pani.
+
+"Only grief, Mam'selle. All the time she said you would return until a
+week or so ago, then she seemed to give up everything. I was very busy
+this morning, there are so many mouths to feed. I was finishing some
+work promised, there are good people willing to employ me. And then I
+came in to see--"
+
+"Jeanne has come home," Pani exclaimed suddenly. "Margot has been so
+good. I am old and of no use any more. I have been only a trouble."
+
+"Yes, yes, I want you. Oh, Pani, if I had come home and found you dead
+there would have been no one--and now you will get well again."
+
+Pani shook her head, but Jeanne could discern the awakening
+intelligence.
+
+"Mam'selle!" Margot seemed but half convinced. Then she glanced about
+the room. "M. Garis was in such haste for his boy's clothes that I have
+done nothing but sew and sew. Marie has gone out to service and there
+are only the little ones. My own house has been neglected."
+
+"Yes. Heaven will reward you for your goodness to her all this dreadful
+time, when you have had to work hard for your own."
+
+Margot began to pick up articles and straighten the room, to gather the
+few unwashed dishes.
+
+"Oh, Mam'selle, it made a great stir. The neighbors and the guards went
+out and searched. Some wild beast might have devoured you, but they
+found no trace. And they thought of Indians. Poor Pani! But all will be
+well now. Nay, Mam'selle," as Jeanne would have stopped her, "there will
+be people in, for strange news travels fast."
+
+That was very likely. In a brief while they had the room tidy. Then
+Jeanne fixed a seat at the other side of the fireplace, spread the fur
+rug over it, and led the unresisting Pani thither, wrapped her in a
+fresh blanket, and took off the cap, smoothing out the neglected hair
+that seemed strangely white about the pale, brown face. The high cheek
+bones left great hollows underneath, but in spite of the furrows of age
+the skin was soft.
+
+The woman gave a low, pleased laugh, and nodded.
+
+"Father Rameau will come," she said.
+
+"Father Rameau! Has he returned?" inquired the girl.
+
+"Oh, yes, Mam'selle, and so glad to get back to Detroit. I cannot tell
+you all his delight. And then his sorrow for you. For we were afraid you
+were no longer living. What a strange story!"
+
+"It has happened before, being carried away by Indians. Some time you
+shall hear all, Margot."
+
+The woman nodded. "And if you do not want me, Mam'selle--" for there was
+much to do at home.
+
+"I do not need you so much just now, but come in again presently. Oh, I
+can never repay you!"
+
+"Wenonah has done more than I."
+
+In the warmth of the fire and the comfortable atmosphere about her, Pani
+had fallen asleep. Jeanne glanced into the chamber. The beds were spread
+up, and, except dust, things were not bad, but she put them in the olden
+order. Then she bathed her face and combed the tangles out of her hair.
+Here was her blue woolen gown, with the curious embroidery of beads and
+bright thread, that Wenonah had made for her last winter, and she
+slipped into it. Now she felt like herself. She would cook a little
+dinner for herself and Pani. And, as she was kneeling on the wide
+hearthstone stirring some broth, the woman opened her eyes.
+
+"Jeanne," she said, and there was less wandering in her voice, "Jeanne,
+it was a dream. I have been asleep many moons, I think. The great evil
+spirits have had me, dragged me down into their dens, and I could not
+see you. Pani's heart has been sore distressed. It was all a dream,
+little one."
+
+"Yes, a dream!" Jeanne's arms were about her neck.
+
+"And you will never go away, not even if M. Bellestre sends for you!"
+she entreated.
+
+"I shall never go away from La Belle Detroit. Oh, Pani, there may be
+beautiful places in the world," and she thought of the island and
+Miladi, "but none so dear. No, we shall stay here always."
+
+But the news had traveled, and suddenly there was an influx; M. De Ber
+going home to his midday meal could not believe until he had seen Jeanne
+with his own eyes. And the narrow street was filled as with a
+procession.
+
+Jeanne kept to the simple story and let her listeners guess at motives
+or mysterious purposes. They had not harmed her. And a beautiful Indian
+maiden with much power over her red brethren had gained her freedom and
+sent her to a place of safety. Captain Mallard and the "Return" had
+brought her to the town, and that was all.
+
+It was almost night when Father Rameau came. He had grown strangely old,
+it seemed to her, and the peaceful lines of his face were disturbed. He
+had come back to the home of years to find himself curiously supplanted
+and new methods in use that savored less of love and more of strict
+rule. He had known so much of the hardness of the pioneer lives, of the
+enjoyment and courage the rare seasons of pleasure gave them, of the
+ignorance that could understand little of the higher life, of the strong
+prejudices and superstitions that had to be uprooted gently and perhaps
+wait for the next generation. Truth, honesty, and temperance were rare
+virtues and of slow growth. The new license brought in by the English
+was hard to combat, but he had worked in love and patience, and now he
+found his methods condemned and new ones instituted. His heart ached.
+
+But he was glad enough to clasp Jeanne to his heart and to hear her
+simple faith in the miracle that had been wrought. How great it was, and
+what her danger had been, he was never to know. For Owaissa's sake and
+her debt to her she kept silence as to that part.
+
+Certainly Jeanne had an ovation. When she went into the street there
+were smiles and bows. Some of the ladies came to speak to her, and
+invited her to their houses, and found her extremely interesting.
+
+Madame De Ber was very gracious, and both Rose and Marie were friendly
+enough. But Madame flung out one little arrow that missed its mark.
+
+"Your old lover soon consoled himself it seems. It is said he married a
+handsome Indian girl up at the Strait. I dare say he was pledged to
+her."
+
+"Yes. It was Owaissa who freed me from captivity. She came down to Bois
+Blanc and heard the story and sent me away in her own canoe with her
+favorite servant. Louis Marsac was up at St. Ignace getting a priest
+while she waited. I cannot think he was at all honest in proposing
+marriage to me when another had the right. But there was a grand time it
+was said, and they were very happy."
+
+Madame stared. "It was a good thing for you that you did not care for
+him. I had a distrust for him. He was too handsome. And then he believed
+nothing and laughed at religion. But the Marsacs are going to be very
+rich it is said. You did not see them married?"
+
+"Oh, no." Jeanne laughed with a bitterness she had not meant to put into
+her voice. "He was away when Owaissa came to me and heard my plight. And
+then there was need of haste. I had to go at once, and it would not have
+been pleasant even if I could have waited."
+
+"No, no. Men are much given to make love to young girls who have no one
+to look after them. They think nothing of it."
+
+"So it was fortunate that it was distasteful to me."
+
+Jeanne had a girl's pride in wanting this woman to understand that she
+was in no wise hurt by Marsac's recreancy. Then she added, "The girl was
+beautiful as Indian girls go, and it seems a most excellent marriage.
+She will be fond of that wild northern country. I could not be content
+in it."
+
+Jeanne felt that she was curiously changed, though sometimes she longed
+passionately for the wild little girl who had been ready for every kind
+of sport and pleasure. But the children with whom she had played were
+grown now, boys great strapping fellows with manners both coarse and
+shy, going to work at various businesses, and the girls had lovers or
+husbands,--they married early then. So she seemed left alone. She did
+not care for their chatter nor their babies of which they seemed so
+proud.
+
+So she kept her house and nursed Pani back to some semblance of her
+former self. But often it was a touch of the childhood of old age, and
+she rambled about those she had known, the De Longueils and Bellestres,
+and the night Jeanne had been left in her arms.
+
+Jeanne liked the chapel minister and his wife very much. The lady had so
+many subjects to converse about that never led to curious questions. The
+minister lent her books and they talked them over afterward. This was
+the world she liked.
+
+But she had not lost her love for that other world of freedom and
+exhilaration. After a brief Indian summer with days of such splendor
+that it seemed as if the great Artist was using his most magnificent
+colors, winter set in sharp and with a snap that startled every one.
+Snow blocked the roads and the sparkling expanse of crust on the top was
+the delight of the children, who walked and slid and pulled each other
+in long loads like a chain of dogs. And some of the lighter weight young
+people skated over it like flying birds. In the early evening all was
+gayety. Jeanne was not lacking in admirers. Young Loisel often called
+for her, and Martin Lavosse would easily have verged on the sentimental
+if Jeanne had not been so gay and unconscious. He was quite sore over
+the defection of Rose De Ber, who up in one of the new streets was
+hobnobbing with the gentry and quite looking down on the Beesons.
+
+Then the minister and his wife often joined these outdoor parties. Since
+he neither played cards, danced, nor drank in after-dinner symposiums,
+this spirited amusement stirred his blood. Pani went to bed early, and
+Margot would bring in her sewing and see that nothing untoward happened.
+
+Few of the stores were open in the evenings. Short as the day was, all
+the business could be done in it. Now and then one saw a feeble light in
+a window where a man stayed to figure on some loss or gain.
+
+Fleets were laid up or ventured only on short journeys. From the
+northern country came stories of ice and snow that chilled one's marrow.
+Yet the great fires, the fur rugs and curtains and soft blankets kept
+one comfortable within.
+
+There were some puzzling questions for Jeanne. She liked the freedom of
+conscience at the chapel, and then gentle Father Rameau drew her to the
+church.
+
+"If I had two souls," she said one day to the minister, "I should be
+quite satisfied. And it seems to me sometimes as if I were two different
+people," looking up with a bright half smile. "In childhood I used to
+lay some of my wildnesses on to the Indian side. I had a curious fancy
+for a strain of Indian blood."
+
+"But you have no Indian ancestry?"
+
+"I think not. I am not so anxious for it now," laughing gayly. "But that
+side of me protests against the servitude Father Gilbert so insists
+upon. And I hate confession. To turn one's self inside out, to give away
+the sacred trusts of others--"
+
+"No, that is not necessary," he declared hastily.
+
+"But when the other lives are tangled up with yours, when you can only
+tell half truths--"
+
+He smiled then. "Mademoiselle Jeanne, your short life has not had time
+to get much entangled with other lives, or with secrets you are aware
+of."
+
+"I think it has been curiously entangled," she replied. "M'sieu
+Bellestre, whom I have almost forgotten, M. Loisel--and the old
+schoolmaster I told you of, who I fancy now was a sad heretic--"
+
+She paused and flushed, while her eyes were slowly downcast. There was
+Monsieur St. Armand. How could she explain this to a priest? And was not
+Monsieur a heretic, too? That was her own precious, delightful secret,
+and she would give it into no one's keeping.
+
+She was very happy with all this mystery about her, he thought, very
+simple minded and sweet, doing the whole duty of a daughter to this poor
+Indian woman in return for her care. And when Pani was gone? She was
+surely fitted for some other walk in life, but she was unconsciously
+proud, she would not step over into it, some one must take her by the
+hand.
+
+"But why trouble about the Church, as you call it? It is the life one
+leads, not the organization. Are these people down by the wharves and
+those holes on St. Louis street, where there is drunkenness and gambling
+and swearing, any the better for their confession and their masses, and
+what not?"
+
+"If I was the priest they should not come unless they reformed," and her
+eyes flashed. "But when I turn away something calls me, and when I go
+there I do not like it. They want me to go among the sisters, to be a
+nun perhaps, and that I should hate."
+
+"At present you are doing a daughter's duty, let that suffice. Pani
+would soon die without you. When a new work comes to hand God will make
+the way plain for you."
+
+Jeanne gave an assenting nod.
+
+"She is a curious child," the minister said to his wife afterward, "and
+yet a very sweet, simple-hearted one. But to confine her to any routine
+would make her most unhappy."
+
+There were all the Christmas festivities, and Jeanne did enjoy them.
+Afterward--some of the days were very long it seemed. She was tired of
+the great white blanket of snow and ice, and the blackness of the
+evergreens that in the cold turned to groups of strange monsters. Bears
+came down out of the woods, the sheep dogs and their masters had fights
+with wolves; there were dances and the merry sounds of the violin in
+every household where there were men and boys. Then Lent, not very
+strictly kept after all, and afterward Easter and the glorious spring.
+
+Jeanne woke into new life. "I must go out for the first wild flowers,"
+she said to Pani. "It seems years since I had any. And the robin and the
+thrush and the wild pigeons have come back, and the trees bud with the
+baths of sunshine. All the air is throbbing with fragrance."
+
+Pani looked disturbed.
+
+"Oh, thou wilt not go to the woods?" she cried.
+
+"I will take Wenonah and one of the boys. They are sturdy now and can
+howl enough to scare even a panther. No, Pani, there is no one to carry
+me away. They would know that I should slip through their fingers;" and
+she laughed with the old time joyousness.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+A HEARTACHE FOR SOME ONE.
+
+
+"Jeanne," exclaimed Father Rameau, "thou art wanted at the Chapter
+house."
+
+He stood in the doorway of the little cottage and glanced curiously at
+the two inmates. Pani often amused herself cutting fringe for Wenonah,
+under the impression that it was needed in haste, and she was very happy
+over it. A bowl of violets and wild honeysuckle stood on the table, and
+some green branches hung about giving the room the odor of the new
+season and an air of rejoicing.
+
+"What now?" She took his wrinkled old hand in hers so plump and dimpled.
+"Have I committed some new sin? I have been so glad for days and days
+that I could only rejoice."
+
+"No, not sin. It is to hear a strange story and to be happier, perhaps."
+
+He looked curiously at her. "Oh, something has happened!" she cried. Was
+it possible M. St. Armand had returned? For days her mind had been full
+of him. And he would be the guest of the Fleurys.
+
+"Yes, I should spoil it in the telling, and I had strict injunctions."
+There was an air of mystery about him.
+
+Surely there was no trouble. But what could they want with her? A
+strange story! Could some one have learned about her mother or her
+father?
+
+"I will change my attire in a moment. Pani, Margot will gladly come and
+keep you company."
+
+"Nay, little one, I am not a baby to be watched," Pani protested.
+
+Jeanne laughed. She looked very sweet and charming in her blue and white
+frock made in a plain fashion, for it did not seem becoming in her to
+simulate the style of the great ladies. A soft, white kerchief was drawn
+in a knot about her shoulders, showing the shapely throat that was
+nearer ivory than pearl. In the knot she drew a few violets. Head gear
+she usually disdained, but now she put over her curls a dainty white cap
+that made a delicious contrast with the dark rings nestling below the
+edge. A pretty, lissome girl, with a step so light it would not have
+crushed the grass under her feet, had there been any.
+
+"There seems a great stir in the town," she said.
+
+They had turned into St. Anne's street and were going toward the church.
+
+"The new Governor General Hull is to come in a few weeks, and the
+officers have word to look him up a home, for governors have not lived
+in Detroit before. No doubt there will be fine times among the
+Americans."
+
+"And there flies a white flag down at the river's edge--has that
+something to do with it?"
+
+"Oh, the boat came in last evening. It is one of the great men up at the
+North, I think in the fur company. But he has much influence over the
+Indian tribes, and somehow there is a whisper that there may be
+disaffection and another union such as there was in Pontiac's time,
+which heaven forbid! He is called the White Chief."
+
+"The White Chief!" Jeanne stopped short in a maze of astonishment.
+
+"That has nothing to do with thee," said the priest. He preferred her
+interest to run in another channel.
+
+"But--I was on his island. I saw his wife and children, you remember.
+Oh, I must see him--"
+
+"Not now;"--and her guide put out his hand.
+
+"Oh, no," and she gave a short laugh. "As if I would go running after a
+strange man; a great chief! But he is not an Indian. He is French."
+
+"I do remember, yes. There seems a great commotion, as if all the ships
+had come in. The winter was so long and cold that business is all the
+more brisk. Here, child, pay a little attention to where you are going.
+There is a lack of reverence in you young people that pains me."
+
+"Pardon me, father." Jeanne knelt on the church steps and crossed
+herself. She had run up here in the dark the first night she had been
+back in Detroit, just to kneel and give thanks, but she had told no one.
+
+Then she walked decorously beside him. There was the Chapel of Retreat,
+a room where the nuns came and spent hours on their knees. They passed
+that, going down a wide hall. On one side some young girls sat doing
+fine embroidery for religious purposes. At the end a kind of reception
+room, and there were several people in this now, two priests and three
+woman in the garb of Ursuline nuns.
+
+Jeanne glanced around. A sort of chill crept over her. The room was bare
+and plain except a statue of the Virgin, and some candles and
+crucifixes. Nearly in the center stood a table with a book of devotions
+on it.
+
+"This is Jeanne Angelot," exclaimed Father Rameau. She, in her youth and
+health and beauty, coming out of the warm and glowing sunshine of May,
+brought with her an atmosphere and radiance that seemed like a sudden
+sunrise in the dingy apartment. The three women in the coif and gown of
+the Ursulines fingered their beads and, after sharp glances at the maid,
+dropped their eyes, and their faces fell into stolid lines.
+
+Another woman rose from the far corner and her gown made a swish on the
+bare floor. She came almost up to Jeanne, who shrank back in an
+inexplicable terror, a motion that brought a spasm of color to the
+newcomer's face, and a gasp for breath.
+
+She was, perhaps, a little above the medium height, slim alway and now
+very thin. Her eyes were sunken, with grayish shadows underneath, her
+cheeks had a hollow where fullness should have been, her lips were
+compressed in a nearly straight line. She was not old, but asceticism
+had robbed her of every indication of youth, had made severity the
+leading indication in her countenance.
+
+"Jeanne Angelot," she repeated. "You are quite sure, Father, those
+garments belonged to her?"
+
+The poor woman felt the secret antipathy and she, too, seemed to
+contract, to realize the mysterious distance between them, the
+unlikeness of which she had not dreamed. For in her narrow life of
+devotion she had endeavored to crucify all human feelings and
+affections. That was her bounden duty for her girlhood's sin. Girls were
+poor, weak creatures and their wills counseled them wrongly, wickedly.
+She had come to snatch this child, the result of her own selfish dreams,
+her waywardness, from a like fate. She should be housed, safe, kept from
+evil. The nun, too, had dreamed, although Berthe Campeau had said, "She
+is a wild little thing and it is suspected she has Indian blood in her
+veins." But it was the rescue of a soul to the service of God, the soul
+she was answerable for, not the ardor of human love.
+
+The father made a slow inclination of the head.
+
+"They were upon her that night she was dropped in the Pani's lap, and
+the card pinned to her. Then two letters curiously wrought upon her
+thigh."
+
+"Jeanne, Jeanne, I am your mother."
+
+It was the woman who was the suppliant, who felt a strange misgiving
+about this spirited girl with resolute eyes and poise of the head like a
+bird who would fly the next moment. And yet it was not the entreaty of
+starved and waiting love, that would have clasped arms about the slim,
+proud figure that stood almost defiant, suspicious, unbelieving.
+
+The others had heard the story and there was no surprise in their
+countenances.
+
+Jeanne seemed at first like a marble image. The color went out of her
+cheeks but her eyes were fixed steadfastly upon the woman, their blue so
+clear, so penetrating, that she shrank farther into herself, seemed
+thinner and more wan.
+
+"Your mother," and Father Rameau would fain have taken the girl's hand,
+but she suddenly clasped them behind her back. There was incredulity in
+the look, repulsion. What if there were some plot? She glanced at Father
+Gilbert but his cold eyes expressed only disapprobation.
+
+"My mother," she said slowly. "My mother has been dead years, and I owe
+love and gratitude to the Indian woman, Pani, who has cared for me with
+all fondness."
+
+"You do not as yet understand," interposed Father Rameau. "You have not
+heard the story."
+
+She had in her mind the splendid motherhood of Miladi as she had seen it
+in that beautiful island home.
+
+"A mother would not desert her child and leave it to the care of
+strangers, Indian enemies perhaps, and send a message that she was
+dead," was the proud reply.
+
+Jeanne Angelot's words cut like a knife. There was no sign of belief in
+her eyes, no dawning tenderness.
+
+The woman bowed her head over her clasped hands and swayed as if she
+would fall.
+
+"It is right," she answered in a voice that might have come from the
+grave. "It is part of my punishment. I had no right to bring this child
+into the world. Holy Mother, I accept, but let me snatch her soul from
+perdition!"
+
+Jeanne's face flamed scarlet. "I trust the good Father above," she
+declared with an accent of uplifted faith that irradiated her with
+serene strength. "Once in great peril he saved me. I will trust my cause
+to him and he will clear my way."
+
+"Thou ignorant child!" declared Father Gilbert. "Thou hast no human love
+in thy breast. There must be days and weeks of penance and discipline
+before thou art worthy even to touch this woman's hand. She is thy
+mother. None other hath any right to thee. Thou must be trained in
+obedience, in respect; thy pride and indifference must be cast out, evil
+spirits that they be. She hath suffered for thy sake; she must have
+amends when thou art in thy right mind. Thou wert given to the Church in
+Holy Baptism, and now she will reclaim thee."
+
+Jeanne turned like a stag at bay, proud, daring, defiant. It was some
+evil plot. Could a true mother lend herself to such a cruel scheme? Why
+was she not drawn to her, instead of experiencing this fear and
+repulsion? Would they keep her here, shut her up in a dark room as they
+had years ago, when she had kicked and screamed until Father Rameau had
+let her out to liberty and the glorious sunlight? Could she not make one
+wild dash now--
+
+There was a shuffling of steps in the hall and a glitter of trappings.
+The Commandant of the Fort stepped forward to the doorway and glanced
+in. The priests questioned with their eyes, the nuns turned aside.
+
+"We were told we should find Father Rameau here. There is some curious
+business. Ah, here is the girl herself, Mademoiselle Jeanne Angelot.
+There is a gentleman here desirous of meeting her, and has a strange
+story for her ear. Can we have a private room--"
+
+"Mademoiselle Jeanne Angelot is in the care of the Church and her
+mother, who has come to claim her;" was the emphatic reply.
+
+"Her mother!" The man beside the Commandant stepped forward. "Her mother
+is dead," he said, gravely.
+
+"The Sieur Gaston de la Touche Angelot, better known by repute as the
+White Chief of the Island," announced the officer; and the guest bowed
+to them all.
+
+The woman fell on her knees and bowed her head to the floor. The man
+glanced about the small concourse. He was tall, nearer forty than
+thirty, of a fine presence, and, though bronzed by exposure, was
+handsome, and not only that, but noble as to face; the kind of man to
+compel admiration and respect, and with the air of authority that sways
+in an unquestioning manner. His eyes rested on the girl. The same proud
+bearing, though with virginal softness and pliability, the same large
+steady eyes, both with the wondering look as they rushed to each other's
+glance.
+
+"If the tale I have heard, or rather have pieced out from vague bits and
+suggestions, and the similarity of name be true, I think I have a right
+to claim this girl as my daughter, supposed dead for years. There were
+some trinkets found on her, and there were two initials wrought in her
+fair baby limb by my hand. Can I see these articles?"
+
+Then he crossed to the girl and studied her from head to foot, smiled
+with a little triumph, and faced the astonished group.
+
+"I have marked her with my eyes as well," he said with a smile. "Jeanne,
+do you not feel that the same blood flows through our veins? Does not
+some mysterious voice of nature assure you that I am your father, even
+before the proofs are brought to light? You must know--"
+
+Ah, did she not know! The voice spoke with no uncertain sound. Jeanne
+Angelot went to her father's arms.
+
+The little group were so astounded that no one spoke. The woman still
+knelt, nay, shriveled in a little heap.
+
+"She has fainted," and one of the sisters went to her, "Help, let us
+carry her into the next room."
+
+They bore her away. Father Gilbert turned fiercely to the Sieur Angelot.
+
+"There might be some question as to rights in the child," he said, in a
+clear, cold tone. "When did the Sieur repudiate his early marriage? He
+has on his island home a new wife and children."
+
+"Death ends the most sacred of all ties for this world. Coming to meet
+me the party were captured by a band of marauding Indians. Few escaped.
+Months afterward I had the account from one of the survivors. The
+child's preservation must have been a miracle. And that she has been
+here years--" he pressed her closer to his heart.
+
+"Monsieur Angelot, I think you will not need us in the untangling of
+this strange incident, but we shall be glad to hear its ending. I shall
+expect you to dine with me as by previous arrangement. I wish you might
+bring your pretty daughter."
+
+The Commandant bowed to the company and turned, attended by his suite.
+When their soldierly tread had ceased on the steps, Father Gilbert
+confronted the White Chief.
+
+"Your wife," he began in an authoritative tone, fixing his keen eyes on
+the Sieur Angelot, "your wife whom you tempted from her vows and
+unlawfully married is still alive. I think she can demand her child."
+
+Jeanne clung closer to her father and his inmost soul responded. But
+aloud he exclaimed in a horrified tone, "Good God!" Then in a moment,
+turning almost fiercely to the priest, "Why did she give away her child
+and let it be thought a foundling? For if the story is true she has been
+little better than a waif, a foundling of Detroit."
+
+"She was dying and intended to send it to you. She had to intrust it to
+a kind-hearted squaw. What happened then will never be known, until one
+evening it was dropped in the lap of this Pani woman who has been foster
+mother."
+
+"Is this so, Jeanne?" He raised the flushed face and looked into the
+eyes with a glance that would have been stern had it not been so full of
+love.
+
+"It is so," she made answer in a soft, clear voice. "She has been a
+mother to me and I love her. She is old and I will never be separated
+from her."
+
+"There spoke the loyal child. And now, reverend father, where is this
+wife? It is a serious complication. But if, as you say, I married her
+unlawfully--"
+
+"You enticed her from the convent." There was the severity of the judge
+in the tone.
+
+"_Parbleu!_ It did not need much enticing," and a half smile crossed his
+handsome face while his eyes softened. "We were both in love and she
+abhorred the monotony of convent life. We were of different faiths; that
+should have made me pause, but I thought then that love righted
+everything. I was of an adventurous turn and mightily stirred by the
+tales of the new world. Huguenot faith was not in favor in France, and I
+resolved to seek my fortunes elsewhere. She could not endure the
+parting. Yes, Father, since she had not taken any vow, not even begun
+her novitiate, I overpersuaded her. We were married in my faith. We came
+to this new world, and in Boston this child was born. We were still very
+happy. But I could not idle my life doing things befitting womankind. We
+came to Albany, and there I found some traders who told stirring tales
+of the great North and the fortunes made in the fur trade. My wife did
+oppose my going, but the enthusiasm of love, if I may call it so, had
+begun to wane. She had misgivings as to whether she had done right in
+marrying me--"
+
+"As a true daughter of the Church would," interrupted the priest
+severely.
+
+"I was willing that she should return to her own faith, which she did. I
+left her in good hands. Fortune favored me. I liked the stir and
+excitement, the out-of-door life, the glamour of adventures. I found men
+who were of the same cast of mind. To be sure, there were dangers, there
+was also the pleasure and gratification of leadership, of subduing
+savage natures. When I had resolved to settle in the North I sent to my
+wife by a messenger and received answer that since I thought it best she
+would come to me. I felt that she had no longing for the wild life, but
+I meant to do my utmost to satisfy her. There was her Church at St.
+Ignace, there were kindly priests, and some charming and heroic women.
+With my love to shield her I felt she must be happy. There was a company
+to leave Albany, enough it was thought to make traveling safe, for
+Indians were still troublesome. I made arrangements for her to join
+them, and was to meet them at Detroit. Alas! word came that, while they
+were still some distance from their point of embarkation on Lake Erie,
+they were set upon and massacred by a body of roving Indians. Instead of
+my beloved wife I met one of the survivors in Detroit and heard the
+terrible story. Not a woman in the party had escaped. The Indians had
+not burthened themselves with troublesome prisoners. I returned to
+Michilimackinac with a heart bowed down with grief. There was the
+comfortable home awaiting my wife, made as pretty as it had been
+possible to do. I could not endure it and joined some members of the
+company going to Hudson Bay. I made some fresh efforts to learn if
+anything further had been heard, but no word ever came. It is true that
+I married again. It does not seem possible that a once wedded wife
+should have lived all these years and made no effort to communicate with
+her husband, who, after all, could have been found. And though for years
+I have been known as the White Chief, from a curious power I have gained
+over the Indians, the hunters, and traders, I am also known as the Sieur
+Angelot."
+
+He stood proudly before them, his handsome, weather-bronzed face bearing
+the impress of truth, his eyes shining with the clearest, highest honor.
+The child Jeanne felt the stiffening of every muscle, and it went
+through her with a thrill of joy.
+
+"It is a long story," began Father Rameau, gently, "a strange one, too.
+Through the courage and craftiness of a Miami squaw, who had been a sort
+of maid to Madame Angelot, she escaped death. They hid in the woods and
+subsisted on anything they could find until Madame could go no farther.
+She thought herself dying, and implored the woman to take her babe to
+Detroit and find its father, and she lay down in a leafy covert to die.
+In that hour she repented bitterly of her course in leaving the convent
+and listening to a forbidden love. She prayed God to believe if it were
+to do over again she would hearken to the voice of the Church, and hoped
+this fervent repentance would be remembered in her behalf. Then she
+resigned herself to death. But in the providence of the good All Father
+she was rescued by another party and taken to a farmhouse not far
+distant. Here were two devoted women who were going to Montreal to enter
+the convent, and were to embark at a point on Lake Ontario, where a boat
+going North would touch. They nursed her for several weeks before she
+was able to travel, and then she decided to cast in her lot with them.
+Her husband, no doubt, had the child. She was dead to the world. She
+belonged henceforward to the Church and to the service of God. Moreover,
+it was what she desired. She had tried worldly love and her own will,
+and been unhappy in it. Monsieur, she was born for a devotee. It was a
+sad mistake when she yielded to your persuasions. Her parents had
+destined her for the convent, and she had a double debt to pay. The
+marriage was unlawful and she was absolved from it."
+
+"Then I was free also. It cannot bind on one side and loose on the
+other. I believe you have said rightly. She was not happy, though I
+think even now she will tell you that I did all in my power. I did not
+oppose her going back to her first faith, although then I would have
+fought against this disruption of the marriage tie."
+
+"It was no marriage in God's sight, with a heretic," interposed Father
+Gilbert. "She repented her waywardness bitterly. God made her to see it
+through sore trial. But the child is hers."
+
+"Not when you admit that she sent it to me, gave me the right," was the
+confident reply.
+
+He pressed Jeanne closer and with a strength that said, "I will fight
+for you." The proud dignity of his carriage, the resolution in his face,
+indicated that he would not be an easy enemy to combat. There was a
+strange silence, as if no one could tell what would be the next move. He
+broke it, however.
+
+"The child shall decide," he said. "She shall hear her mother's story,
+and then mine. She shall select with whom she will spend the coming
+years. God knows I should have been glad enough to have had her then. By
+what sad mistake fate should have traversed the mother's wishes, and
+given her these wasted years, I cannot divine."
+
+They were only to guess at that. The Miami woman had grown tired of her
+charge, so unlike the papooses of the Indian mothers. Then, too, it was
+heavy to carry, difficult to feed. She met a party of her own tribe and
+resolved to cast in her destiny with them. They were going into Ohio to
+meet some scattered members of their people, and to effect a union with
+other Indian nations, looking to the recovery of much of their power.
+She went up to Detroit in a canoe, and, taking the sleeping child,
+reconnoitered awhile; finally, seeing Pani sitting alone under a great
+tree, she dropped the child into her lap and ran swiftly away, feeling
+confident the father would in some way discover the little one, since
+her name was pinned to her clothing. Then she rowed rapidly back, her
+Indian ideas quite satisfied.
+
+"I wonder if I might see"--what should he call her?--"Jeanne's mother."
+
+Word came back that the nun was too much enfeebled to grant him an
+interview. But she would receive the child. Jeanne clung to her father
+and glanced up with entreating eyes.
+
+"I will wait for you. Yes, see her. Hear her story first." The child
+followed the sister reluctantly. Sieur Angelot, who had been standing,
+now took a seat.
+
+"I should like to see the trinkets you spoke of--and the clothes," he
+said with an air of authority.
+
+Father Rameau brought them. Father Gilbert and the sister retired to an
+adjoining room.
+
+"Yes," the Sieur remarked, "this is our miniature. It was done in
+Boston. And the ring was my gift to the child when she was a year old;
+it was much too big," and he smiled. "And the little garments. You are
+to be thanked most sincerely for keeping them so carefully. Tell me
+something about the life of the child."
+
+Father Rameau had been so intimately connected with it, that he was a
+most excellent narrator. The episode with the Bellestres and Monsieur's
+kindly care, the efforts to subdue in some measure the child's wildness
+and passion for liberty, which made the father smile, thinking of his
+own exuberant spirits and adventures, her affection for the Indian
+woman, her desultory training, that Father Rameau believed now had been
+a sinful mistake, her strange disappearance--
+
+"That gave me the clew," interrupted his hearer. "By some mysterious
+chain of events she was brought to her father's house. I was up North at
+the time, and only recently heard the story. The name Jeanne Angelot
+roused me. There could not be a mistake. Some miracle must have
+intervened to save the child. Then I came at once. But you think
+she--the mother--believes her marriage was a sin?" What if she still
+cared?
+
+The Sieur asked it with great hesitation. He thought of the proud,
+loving wife, the spirited, beautiful boys, the dainty little
+daughter--no, he could not relinquish them.
+
+"She is vowed to the Church now, and is at rest. Nothing you can say
+will disturb her. The good Bishop of Montreal absolved her from her
+wrongful vow. While we hold marriage as sacred and indissoluble, it has
+to be a true marriage and with the sanction of the Church. This had no
+priestly blessing or benediction. And she repented of it. For years she
+has been in the service of the Lord."
+
+He was glad to hear this. Down in his heart he knew how she had
+tormented her tender conscience with vain and rigorous questions and had
+made herself unhappy in pondering them. But he thought their new life
+together would neutralize this tendency and bring them closer in unison.
+Had she, indeed, made such a sad mistake in her feelings as to give him
+only an enthusiastic but temporary affection, when she was ready to
+throw up all the beliefs and the training of her youth? But then the
+convent round looked dreary to her.
+
+Jeanne came from the room where she had been listening to her mother's
+story of self-blame and present abhorrence for the step she had so
+unwisely taken in yielding to one who should have been nothing to her.
+
+"But you loved him then!" cried Jeanne, vehemently, thinking of the
+other woman whose joy and pride was centered in the Sieur Angelot.
+
+"It was a sinful fancy, a temptation of the evil one. I should have
+struggled against it. I should have resigned myself to the life laid out
+for me. A man's love is a delusion. Oh, my child, there is nothing like
+the continual service of God to keep one from evil. The joys of the
+world are but as dust and ashes, nay, worse, they leave an ineradicable
+stain that not even prayer and penance can wash out. And this is why I
+have come to warn, to reclaim you, if possible. When I heard the story
+from a devoted young sister, whose name in the world was Berthe Campeau,
+I said I must go and snatch the soul of my child from the shadow of
+perdition that hangs over her."
+
+Berthe Campeau! How strange it was that the other mother, nearing the
+end of life, should have plead with her child to stay a little longer in
+the world and wait until she was gone before she buried herself in
+convent walls!
+
+Was it a happy life, even a life of resignation, that had left such
+lines in her mother's face? She was hardly in the prime of life, but
+she looked old already. Instead of being drawn to sympathize with her,
+Jeanne was repelled. Her mother did not want her for solace and human
+love and sympathy, but simply to keep her from evil. Was affection such
+a sin? She could love her father, yes, she could love M. St. Armand; and
+the Indian woman with her superstitions, her ignorance, was very, very
+dear. And she liked brightness, happy faces, the wide out-of-doors with
+its birds' songs, its waving trees, its fragrant breathing from shrub
+and flower that filled one with joy. Pani kissed her and clasped her to
+her heart, held her in her arms, smoothed the tangled curls, sometimes
+kissed them, too, caressed her soft, dainty hands as if they were
+another human being. This woman was her mother, but there was no
+passionate longing in her eyes, no tender possessing grasp in the hands
+that lay limp and colorless on her black gown. And Jeanne would have
+been still more horrified if she had known that those eyes looked upon
+her as part of a sinful life she had overcome by nights of vigil and
+days of solitude in work and prayer that she had once abhorred and fled
+from. Yet she pitied her profoundly. She longed to comfort her, but the
+nun did not want the comfort of human love.
+
+"No, I cannot decide," Jeanne cried, and yet she knew in her soul she
+had decided.
+
+She came out to her father with tears in her eyes, but the shelter of
+his arms was so strong and safe.
+
+"Reverend fathers," the Sieur Angelot said, with a grave inclination of
+the head, "I thank you for your patience and courtesy. I can appreciate
+your feelings, too, but I think the law will uphold me in my claim to my
+daughter. And in my estimation Jeanne de Burre committed no sin in
+marrying me, and I would ever have been a faithful husband to her. But
+the decision of the Church seems most in consonance with her feelings. I
+have the honor of wishing you good day."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX.
+
+THE HEART OF LOVE.
+
+
+"And now," began the Sieur Angelot, when they were out in the sunshine,
+the choicest blessing of God, and had left the bare, gloomy room behind
+them, "and now, _petite_ Jeanne, let us find thy Indian mother."
+
+Was there a prouder or happier girl in all Old Detroit than Jeanne
+Angelot? The narrow, crooked streets with their mean houses were
+glorified to her shining eyes, the crowded stores and shops, some of
+them with unfragrant wares, and the motley crowd running to and fro,
+dodging, turning aside, staring at this tall, imposing man, with his
+grand, free air and his soldierly tread, a stranger, with Jeanne Angelot
+hanging on his arm in all the bloom and radiance of girlhood. Several
+knew and bowed with deference.
+
+M. Fleury came out of his warehouse.
+
+"Mam'selle Jeanne, allow me to present my most hearty and sincere
+congratulations. M. St. Armand insisted if the truth could be evolved it
+would be found that you belonged to gentle people and were of good
+birth. And we are all glad it is so. I had the honor of being presented
+to your father this morning;" and he bowed with respect. "Mademoiselle,
+I have news that will give thee greatest joy, unless thou hast forgotten
+old friends in the delight of the new. The 'Adventure' is expected in
+any time to-day, and M. St. Armand is a passenger. I beg your father to
+come and dine with him this evening, and if thou wilt not mind old
+graybeards, we shall be delighted with thy company. There will be my
+daughter to keep thee in countenance."
+
+"M. St. Armand!" Jeanne's face was in an exquisite glow and her voice
+shook a little. Her father gave a surprised glance from one to the
+other.
+
+M. Fleury laughed softly and rubbed his hands together, his eyes shining
+with satisfaction.
+
+"Ah, Monsieur," he exclaimed, "thou wilt be surprised at the friends
+Mam'selle Jeanne has in Old Detroit. I may look for thee at five this
+evening?"
+
+They both promised.
+
+Then Jeanne began to tell her story eagerly. The day the flag was
+raised, the after time when she had seen the brave General Wayne, the
+interest that M. St. Armand had taken in having her educated, and how
+she had struggled against her wild tendencies, her passionate love of
+freedom and the woods, the birds, the denizens of the forests. They
+turned in and out, the soldiers at the Citadel saluted, and here was
+Pani on the doorstep.
+
+"Oh, little one! It seemed as if thou wert gone forever!"
+
+Jeanne hugged her foster mother in a transport of joy and affection.
+What if Pani had not cared for her all these years? There were some
+orphan children in the town bound out for servants. To be sure, there
+had been M. Bellestre.
+
+Pani did not receive the Sieur Angelot very graciously. Jeanne tried to
+explain the wonderful things that had happened, but Pani's age and her
+limited understanding made it a hard task. "Thy mother was dead long
+ago," she kept saying. "And they will take thee away, little one--"
+
+"Then they will take you, too, Pani; I shall never leave you. I love
+you. For years there was no one else to love. And how could I be
+ungrateful?"
+
+She looked so charming in her eagerness that her father bent over and
+kissed her. If her mother had been thus faithful!
+
+"I shall never leave Detroit, little one. You may take up a sapling and
+transplant it, but the old tree, never! It dies. The new soil is
+strange, unfriendly."
+
+"Do not tease her," said her father in a low tone. "It is all strange to
+her, and she does not understand. Try to get her to tell her story of
+the night you came."
+
+At first Pani was very wary with true Indian suspicion. The Sieur
+Angelot had much experience with these children of the forests and
+wilderness. He understood their limited power of expansion, their
+suspicions of anything outside of their own knowledge. But he led her on
+skillfully, and his voice had the rare quality of persuasion, of
+inducing confidence. In her French _patois_, with now and then an Indian
+word, she began to live over those early years with the unstudied
+eloquence of real love.
+
+"Touchas is dead," interposed Jeanne. "But there is Wenonah, and, oh,
+there is all the country outside, the pretty farms, the houses that are
+not so crowded. In the spring many of them are whitewashed, and the
+trees are in bloom, and the roses everywhere, and the birds singing--"
+
+She paused suddenly and flushed, remembering the lovely island home with
+all its beauty.
+
+He laughed with a pleasant sound.
+
+"I should think there would need to be an outside. I hardly see how one
+can get his breath in the crowded streets," he answered.
+
+"But there is all the beautiful river, and the air comes sweeping down
+from the hills. And the canoeing. Oh, it is not to be despised," she
+insisted.
+
+"I shall cherish it because it has cherished thee. And now I must say
+adieu for awhile. I am to talk over some matters with your officers, and
+then--" there was the meeting with his wife. "And at five I will come
+again. Child, thou art rarely sweet; much too sweet for convent walls."
+
+"Is it unkind in me? I cannot make her seem my mother. Oh, I should love
+her, pity her!"
+
+There were tears in Jeanne's eyes, and her breath came with a great,
+sorrowful throb.
+
+"We will talk of all that to-morrow."
+
+"Thou wilt not go?" Pani gave her a frightened, longing look, as if she
+expected her to follow her father.
+
+"Oh, not now. It is all so wonderful, Pani, like some of the books I
+have read at the minister's. And M. St. Armand has come back, or will
+when the boat is in. Oh, what a pity to be no longer a child! A year ago
+I would have run down to the wharf, and now--"
+
+Her face was scarlet at the thought. What made this great difference,
+this sense of reticence, of waiting for another to make some sign? The
+frank trust was gone; no, it was not that,--she was overflowing with
+trust to-day. All the world was loveliness and love. But it must come to
+her; she could not run out to it. There was one black shadow; and then
+she shivered.
+
+She told Pani the story of the morning.
+
+The Indian woman shook her head. "She is not a true mother. She could
+not have left thee."
+
+"But she thought she was dying. And if I had died there in the woods!
+Oh, Pani, I am so glad to live! It is such a joy that it quivers in me
+from head to foot. I am like my father."
+
+She laughed for very gladness. Her mercurial temperament was born of the
+sun and wind, the dancing waters and singing birds.
+
+"He will take thee away," moaned the woman like an autumnal blast.
+
+"I will not go, then," defiantly.
+
+"But fathers do as they like, little one."
+
+"He will be good to me. I shall never leave you, _never_."
+
+She knelt before Pani and clasped the bony hands, looked up earnestly
+into the faded eyes where the keen lights of only a few years ago were
+dulling, and she said again solemnly, "I will never leave you."
+
+For she recalled the strange change of mood when she had repeated her
+full name to Miladi of the island. She was her father's true wife now,
+and though Jeanne could not comprehend the intricacies of the case, she
+could see that her father's real happiness lay in this second marriage.
+It took an effort not to blame her own mother for giving him up. That
+handsome woman glowing with life in every pulse, ready to dare any
+danger with him, proud of her motherhood, and, oh, most proud of her
+husband, making his home a temple of bliss, was his true mate. But
+though Jeanne could not have explained jealousy, she felt Miladi would
+not love her for being the Sieur Angelot's daughter. It would be better
+for her to remain here with Pani.
+
+The Sieur had a deeper gravity in his face when he returned to the
+cottage.
+
+The interview with Sister Veronica had been painful to both, yet there
+was the profounder pity on Angelot's side. For even before her husband
+had gone to the North she had begun to question the religious aspect of
+her marriage. If it was unholy, then she had no right to live in sin.
+And during almost two years' absence her morbid faith had grown
+stronger. She would go to him and ask to be released. She would leave
+her child in her place to make amends for her sad mistake.
+
+Circumstances had brought about the same ending by different means. Her
+nurse and companion on her journey had strengthened her faith in her
+resolve. Arrived at Montreal she received still further confirmation of
+the righteousness of her course. She had been an unlawful wife. She had
+sinned in taking the marriage vow. It was no holy sacrament, and she
+could be absolved. So she began her novitiate and was presently received
+into the order. She fasted and prayed, she did penance in her convent
+cell, she prayed for the Sieur Angelot that he might be converted to the
+true faith. It was not as her husband, but as one might wrestle for any
+sinful soul. And that the child would be well brought up. She had known
+Berthe Campeau, sister Mary Constantia, a long while before she heard
+the story of the little girl who had come so mysteriously to Detroit,
+and who had been wild and perverse beyond anything. One day her name had
+been mentioned. Then she asked the Abbe to communicate with Father
+Rameau for particulars and had been answered. Here was a new work for
+her, to snatch this child from evil ways and bring her up safely in the
+care of the Church. She gained permission to go for her, and here again
+circumstances seemed to play at cross purposes.
+
+The Sieur Angelot understood in a little while that whatever love had
+inspired her that night she had besought him to rescue her from a life
+that looked hateful to her young eyes, the passion that influenced her
+then was utterly dead, abhorrent to her. Better, a thousand times
+better, that it should be so. He could not make that eager, impetuous
+girl, whose voice trembled with emotion, whose kisses answered his,
+whose soft arms clung to his neck, out of this pale, attenuated,
+bloodless woman. Perhaps it was heroic to give all to her Church. Even
+men had done this.
+
+"And thou art happy and satisfied in this calling, Mignonne," he half
+assumed, half inquired.
+
+Did the old term of endearment touch some chord that was not quite dead,
+after all? A faint flush brought a wavering heat to her face.
+
+"It is my choice. And if I can have my child to train, to keep from
+evil--" her voice trembled.
+
+He shook his head. "Nay, I cannot have her bright young life thrust into
+the shadow for which she has no taste. She would pine and die."
+
+"I thought so once. I should have died sooner in the other life. It is
+God and his holy Son who give grace."
+
+"She will not forsake her duty to the one who has taken such kindly care
+of her, the Pani woman."
+
+"She can come, too. Give me my child, it is all I ask of you. Surely you
+do not need her."
+
+Her voice was roused to a certain intensity, her thin hands worked. But
+it seemed to him there was something almost cruel in the motion.
+
+"I cannot force her will. It is as she shall choose."
+
+And seeing Jeanne all eager interest in the doorway of the old cottage,
+he knew that she would never choose to shut herself out of the radiant
+sunlight.
+
+"Here is the old gift for you, my child;" and he clasped the chain with
+its little locket round her neck.
+
+Pani came and looked at it. "Yes, yes," she said. "It was on thy baby
+neck, little one. And there are the two letters--"
+
+"It was cruel to prick them in the soft baby flesh," the Sieur said,
+smilingly. "I wonder I had the courage. They alone would prove my right.
+And now there is no time to waste. Will you make ready--"
+
+"I am not often asked among the quality," and her face turned scarlet.
+"I have no fine attire. Wilt thou be ashamed of me?"
+
+She looked so radiant in her girlish beauty, that it seemed to him at
+the moment there was nothing more to desire. And the delicious archness
+in her tone captivated him anew. Consign her to convent walls--never!
+
+Mam'selle Fleury took charge of Jeanne at once and led her through the
+large hall to a side chamber. Not so long ago she was a gay, laughing
+girl, now she was a gravely sweet woman, nursing a sorrow.
+
+"It was a sudden summons," she explained. "And we could not expect to
+know just when the child grew into a maiden. Therefore you will not feel
+hurt, that I, having a wider experience, prepared for the occasion. Let
+me arrange your costume now. I had this frock when I was of your age,
+though I was hardly as slim. How much you are like your father, child!"
+
+"I think he was a little hurt that I had nothing to honor you with,"
+Jeanne said, simply.
+
+"Monsieur Loisel was saying that you needed a woman's hand, now that you
+were outgrowing childhood."
+
+She drew off Jeanne's plain gown; and though this was simple for the
+fashion of the day, it transformed the child into a woman. The long,
+pointed bodice, the square neck, with its bordering of handsome lace,
+showing the exquisite throat sloping into the shoulders and chest, the
+puffings that fell like waves about the hips and made ripples as they
+went down the skirt, the sleeves ending at the elbow with a fall of
+lace, and her hair caught up high and falling in a cascade of curls,
+tied with a great bow that looked like a butterfly, changed her so that
+she hardly knew herself.
+
+"O, Mam'selle, you have made me beautiful!" she cried, in delight. "I
+shall be glad to do you honor, and for the sake of M. St. Armand; but my
+father would love me in the plainest gown."
+
+Mam'selle smiled over her handiwork. But Jeanne's beauty was her own.
+
+She had grown many shades fairer during the winter, and had not rambled
+about so much nor been on the water so often. Her slim figure, in its
+virginal lines, was as lissome as the child's, but there was an
+exquisite roundness to every limb and it lent flexibility to her
+movements. A beautiful girl, Mademoiselle Fleury acknowledged to
+herself, and she wondered that no one beside M. St. Armand had seen the
+promise in her.
+
+The Sieur Angelot had been presented to the guest so lately returned
+from abroad.
+
+"I desire to thank you most heartily, Monsieur St. Armand," M. Angelot
+began, "for an unusual interest in my child that I did not know was
+living until a few weeks ago. She is most enthusiastic about you.
+Indeed, I have been almost jealous."
+
+St. Armand smiled, and bowed gracefully.
+
+"I believe I shall prove to you that I had a right, and, if my discovery
+holds good, we are of some distant kin. When I first heard her name a
+vague memory puzzled me, and when I went to France I resolved to search
+for a family link almost forgotten in the many turns there have been in
+the old families in my native land. Three generations ago a Gaston de la
+Touche Angelot gave his life for his religious faith. Those were
+perilous times, and there was little chance for freedom of belief."
+
+"He was my grandfather," returned the Sieur Angelot gravely. "We have
+been Huguenots for generations. More than one has died for his faith."
+
+"And he was a cousin to my father. I am, as you see, in the generation
+before you. And I am glad fate or fortune, as you will, has brought
+about this meeting. When I learned this fact I said: 'As soon as I
+return to America I shall search out this little girl in Old Detroit and
+take her under my care. There will be no one to object, no one who will
+have a better right.' I am all curiosity to know how on your side you
+made the discovery."
+
+There was a rustle of silken trains in the hall. Madame Fleury entered
+in a stiff brocade and a sparkle of jewels, Mam'selle in a softer,
+though still elegant attire, and Jeanne, who stood amazed at the eyes
+bent upon her; even her father was mute from very surprise.
+
+"Oh, my sweet Jeanne," began M. St. Armand, smilingly, "thou hast
+strangely outgrown the little girl I used to know. Memory hath cheated
+me in the years. For the child that kept such a warm place in my heart
+hath grown into a woman, and not only that, but hath a new friend and
+will not need me."
+
+"Monsieur, no one with remembrance in her heart can so easily give up an
+old friend who made life brighter and happier for her, and who kindled
+the spark of ambition in her soul. I think even my father owes you a
+great debt. I might still have been a wild thing, haunting the woods and
+waters Indian fashion, and, as one might say, despising civilized life,"
+smiling with a bewitching air. "I thank you, Monsieur, for your interest
+in me. For it has given me a great deal of happiness, and no doubt saved
+me from some foolish mistakes."
+
+She had proffered him her dainty hand at the beginning of her speech,
+and now with a charming color she raised her eyes to her father. One
+could trace a decided likeness between them.
+
+"Monsieur St. Armand has done still more," subjoined her father. "He has
+taken pains while in France to hunt up bygone records, and found that
+the families are related. So you have not only a friend but a relative,
+and I surely will join you in gratitude."
+
+"I am most happy." She glanced smilingly from one to the other.
+Mam'selle Fleury watched her with surprise. The grace, ease, and
+presence of mind one could hardly have looked for. "It is in the blood,"
+she said to herself, and she wished, too, that she had made herself a
+friend of this enchanting girl.
+
+Then they moved toward the dining room. M. Fleury took in Jeanne as the
+honored guest, and seated her at his right. The Sieur Angelot was beside
+the hostess. The conversation in the nature of the startling incidents
+was largely personal and between the two men. Mam'selle Fleury was
+deeply interested in the adventures of the Sieur Angelot, detailed with
+spirit and vivacity. Jeanne's varying color and her evident pride in her
+father was delightful to witness. That he and this elegant St. Armand
+should have sprung from the same stock was easy to believe. While the
+gentlemen sat over their wine and cigars Mam'selle took Jeanne to the
+pretty sitting room that she had once visited with such awe. It was
+odorous with the evening dew on the vines outside and the peculiar
+fragrance of sweetbrier.
+
+"What an odd thing that you should have been carried off by Indians and
+taken to your father's house!" she began. "And this double
+marriage--though the Church had annulled your mother's. We have heard of
+the White Chief, but no one could have guessed you were his child. It is
+said--your mother desires you--" Mam'selle hesitated as if afraid to
+trench on secret matters, and not sure of the conclusion.
+
+"She wishes me to go into the convent. But I am not like Berthe Campeau.
+I should fret and be miserable like a wild beast in a cage. If she were
+ill and needed a nurse and affection, I should be drawn to her. And
+then, I am not of the same faith."
+
+"But--a mother--"
+
+"O Mam'selle, she doesn't seem like my mother. My father kissed me and
+held me in his arms at once and my whole heart went out to him. I feel
+strange and far away from her, and she thinks human love a snare to draw
+the soul from God. O Mam'selle, when he has made the world so beautiful
+with all the varying seasons, the singing birds and the blooms and the
+leaping waters that take on wonderful tints at sunrise and sunset, how
+could one be shut away from it all? There is so much to give thanks for
+in the wide, splendid world. It must be better to give them with a free,
+grateful heart."
+
+"I have had some sorrow, and once I looked toward convent peace with
+secret longing. But my mother and father said, 'Wait, we both shall need
+thee as we grow older.' There is much good to be done outside. And one
+can pray as I have learned. I cannot think human ties are easily to be
+cast aside when God's own hand has welded them."
+
+"And she sent me to my father. I feel that I belong to him;" Jeanne
+declared, proudly.
+
+"He is a man to be fond of, so gracious and noble. And his island home
+is said to be most beautiful."
+
+Jeanne gave an eloquent description of it and the two handsome boys with
+their splendid mother. Mam'selle wondered that there was no jealousy in
+her young heart. What a charming character she had! Why had not she
+taken her up as well, instead of feeling that M. St. Armand's interest
+was much misplaced? She might have won this sweet child's affection that
+had been lavished upon an old Indian woman. At times she had hungered
+for love. Her sister was away, happily married, with babies clinging to
+her knees, and the sufficiency of a gratified life.
+
+Jeanne was sitting upon a silken covered stool, her round arm daintily
+reclining on the other's knee. The elder bent over and kissed her on the
+forehead.
+
+"You belong to love's world," she said.
+
+Then the gentlemen entered. Mam'selle played on the harpsichord, and
+there was conversation until it was time to go.
+
+"You will come again," she exclaimed. "I shall want to see you, though I
+know what your decision will be, and I think it right. And now will you
+keep this gown as a little gift from me? You may want to go elsewhere.
+My mother and I will be happy to chaperon you."
+
+Jeanne looked up, wide-eyed and grateful. "Every one has always been so
+good to me," she rejoined. "Then I will not take it off. It will be such
+a pleasure to Pani. I never thought to look so lovely."
+
+Both gentlemen attended her home, and gave her a tender good night.
+
+Pleasant as the evening was Pani hovered over a handful of fire. Jeanne
+threw some fir twigs and broken pieces of birch bark on the coals, and
+the blaze set the room in a glow. "Look, Pani!" she cried, and then she
+went whirling round the room, her eyes shining, her rose red lips parted
+with a laugh.
+
+"It is a spirit." Pani shook her head and her eyes, distended, looked
+frightened in the gleam of the fire. "Little Jeanne has gone, has gone
+forever."
+
+Yes, little Jeanne had gone. She felt that herself. She was gay, eager,
+impetuous, but something new had stolen mysteriously over her.
+
+"Little Jeanne can never go away from you, Pani. Make room in your lap,
+so; now put your arms about me. Never mind the gown. Now, am I not your
+little one?"
+
+Pani laughed, the soft, broken croon of old age.
+
+"My little one come back," she kept repeating in a delighted tone,
+stroking the soft curls.
+
+The next morning M. St. Armand came for a long call. There was so much
+to talk over. He felt sorry for the poor mother, but he, too, objected
+strenuously to Jeanne being persuaded into convent life. He praised her
+for her perseverance in studying, for her improvement under limited
+conditions. Then he wondered a little about her future. If he could have
+the ordering of it!
+
+That afternoon Father Rameau came for her. A ship was to sail the next
+day for Montreal, and her mother would return in it. But when he looked
+in the child's eyes he knew the mother would go alone. Had he been
+derelict in duty and let this lamb wander from the fold? Father Gilbert
+blamed him. Even the mother had rebuked him sharply. Looking into the
+child's radiant face he understood that she had no vocation for a holy
+life. Was not the hand of God over all his children? There were strange
+mysteries no one could fathom. He uttered no word of persuasion, he
+could not. God would guide.
+
+To Jeanne it was an almost heart-breaking interview. Impassioned
+tenderness might have won, to lifelong regret, but it was duty, the
+salvation of her soul always uppermost.
+
+"Still I should not be with you," said Jeanne. "I should take up a
+strange life among strangers. We could not talk over the past, nor be
+the dearest of human beings to each other--"
+
+"That is the cross," interrupted the mother. "Sinful desires must be
+nailed to it."
+
+And all her warm, throbbing, eager life, her love for all human
+creatures, for all of God's works.
+
+Jeanne Angelot stood up very straight. Her laughing face grew almost
+severe.
+
+"I cannot do it. I belong to my father. You sent me to him once. I--I
+love him."
+
+The mother turned and left the room. At that instant she could not trust
+herself to say farewell.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX.
+
+THE LAST OF OLD DETROIT.
+
+
+The Sieur Angelot was gladly consulted on many points. The British still
+retained the command of the Grand Portage on Lake Superior, and the
+Ottawa river route to the upper country. By presents and subsidies they
+maintained an influence over the savages of the Northwest. The different
+Indian tribes, though they might have disputes with each other, were
+gradually being drawn together with the desire of once more sweeping the
+latest conquerors out of existence.
+
+The fur company endeavored to keep friendly with all, and the Indians
+were well aware that much of their support must be drawn from them. The
+new governor was expected shortly, and Detroit was to be his home.
+
+The Sieur Angelot advised better fortifications and a larger garrison.
+Many points were examined and found weak. The general government had
+been appealed to, but the country was poor and could hardly believe, in
+the face of all the treaties, there could be danger.
+
+There was also the outcome of the fur trade to be discussed with the
+merchants, and new arrangements were being made, for the Sieur was to
+return before long.
+
+Jeanne had spent a sorrowful time within her own soul, though she strove
+to be outwardly cheerful. June was upon them in all its glory and
+richness. Sunshine scattered golden rays and made a clarified atmosphere
+that dazzled. The river with rosy fogs in the morning, the quivering
+breath of noon when spirals of yellow light shot up, changing tints and
+pallors every moment, the softer purplish coloring as the sun began to
+drop behind the tree tops, illuminating the different shades of green
+and intensifying the birches until one could imagine them white-robed
+ghosts. The sails on the river, the rambles in the woods, were Jeanne's
+delight once more, and with so charming a companion as M. St. Armand,
+her cup seemed full of joy.
+
+At times the thought of her lonely mother haunted her. Yet what a dreary
+life it must be that had robbed her of every semblance of youth and set
+stern lines in her face, that had uprooted the sweetest human love! How
+could she have turned from the husband of her choice, and that husband
+so brave and tender a man as Sieur Angelot? For day by day it seemed to
+Jeanne that she found new graces and tenderness in him.
+
+Yet she knew she must pain him, too. Only for a brief while, perhaps.
+And--there was a curious hesitation about the new home.
+
+"Jeanne," he said one afternoon, when they, too, were lingering idly
+about the suburban part of the town, the gardens, the orchards, the long
+fields stretching back distantly, here and there a cottage, a nest of
+bloom. There were the stolid farmers working in their old-fashioned
+methods, there was a sound of strokes in the dusky woods where some men
+were chopping that brought faint, reverberating echoes, there was the
+humming of bees, the laughter of children. Little naked Indian babies
+ran about, the sun making the copper of their skins burnished, squaws
+sat with bead work, young fellows were playing games with smooth stones
+or throwing at a mark. French women had brought their wheels out under
+the shade of some tree, and were making a pleasant whir with the
+spinning.
+
+"Jeanne," he began again, "it is time for me to go up North. And I must
+take you, my daughter--" looking at her with questioning eyes.
+
+She raised her hand as if to entreat. A soft color wavered over her
+face, and then she glanced up with a gentle gravity.
+
+"Oh, my father, leave me here a little longer. I cannot go now;" and her
+voice was persuasively sweet.
+
+"Cannot--why?" There was insistence in his tone.
+
+"There is Pani--"
+
+"But we will take Pani. I would not think of leaving her behind."
+
+"She will not go. I have planned and talked. She is no longer strong. To
+tear her up by the roots would be cruel. And do you not see that all her
+life is wound about me? She has been the tenderest of mothers. I must
+give her back some of the care she has bestowed upon me. She has never
+been quite the same since I was taken away. She came near to dying then.
+Yes, you must leave me awhile."
+
+"Jeanne, my little one, I cannot permit this sacrifice;" and the
+tenderness in his eyes smote her.
+
+"Ah, you cannot imagine how I should pine for Detroit and for her. Then
+besides--"
+
+A warm color flooded her face; her eyes drooped.
+
+"My darling, can you not trust yourself to my love?"
+
+"There is another to share your love. Oh, believe me, I am not jealous
+that one so beautiful and worthy should stand in the place my mother
+contemned. She has the right."
+
+"Child, you have wondered how I found the clew to your existence. I have
+meant to tell you but there have been so many things intervening. Do you
+remember one night she asked your name, after having heard your story?
+She had listened to the other side more than once, and, piecing them
+together, she guessed--"
+
+Jeanne recalled the sudden change from delight to coldness. Ah, was this
+the key?
+
+"The boys were full of enthusiasm over the strange guest, whose eyes
+were like their father's. No suspicion struck me. Blue eyes are not so
+unusual, though they all have dark ones. Neither was it so strange that
+one should be captured by the Indians and escape. But I saw presently
+that something weighed heavily on the heart that had always been open as
+the day. Now and then she seemed on the point of some confession. I
+have large patience, Jeanne, and I waited, since I knew it had nothing
+to do with any lack of love towards me. And one night when her secret
+had pricked her sorely she told me her suspicions. My little child might
+be alive, might have escaped by some miracle; and she besought me with
+all eagerness to hasten to Detroit and find this Jeanne Angelot. She had
+been jealous and unhappy that there should be another claimant for my
+love, but then she was nobly sweet and generous and would give you a
+warm welcome. I sent her word by a boat going North, and now I have
+received another message. Women's hearts are strange things, child, but
+you need not be afraid to trust her, though the welcome will be more
+like that of a sister," and he smiled. "I am your rightful protector. I
+cannot leave you here alone."
+
+"Nothing would harm me," she made answer, proudly. "There are many
+friends. Detroit is dear to me. And for Pani's sake--oh, leave me here a
+little while longer. For I can see Pani grows weaker and day by day
+loses a little of her hold on life. Then there is Monsieur Loisel, who
+will guard me, and Monsieur Fleury and Madame, who are most kind. Yes,
+you will consent. After that I will come and be your most dutiful
+daughter. But, oh, think; I owe the Indian woman a child's service as
+well."
+
+Her lovely eyes turned full upon him with tenderest entreaty. He would
+be loth to reward any such devotion with ingratitude, and it would be
+that. Pani could not be taken from Detroit.
+
+"Jeanne, it wrings my heart to find you and then give you up even for a
+brief while. How can I?"
+
+"But you will," she said, and her arms were about his neck, her soft,
+warm cheek was pressed to his, and he could feel her heart beat against
+his. "It pains me, too, for see, I love you. I have a right to love you.
+I must make amends for the pang of the other defection. And you will
+tell _her_, yes. I think I ought to be sister to her. And there are the
+two charming boys and Angelique--she will let me love them. I will not
+take their love from her."
+
+He drew a long breath. "I know not how to consent, and yet I see that it
+would be the finest and loveliest duty. I honor you for desiring it. I
+must think and school myself," smiling sadly.
+
+He consulted M. St. Armand on the matter.
+
+"Give her into my guardianship for a while," that gentleman said. "It is
+noble in her to care for her foster mother to the last. I shall be in
+and out of Detroit, and the Fleurys will be most friendly. And look you,
+_mon cousin_, I have a proffer to make. I have a son, a young man whose
+career has been most honorable, who is worthy of any woman's love, and
+who so far has had no entanglements. If these two should meet again
+presently, and come to desire each other, nothing would give me greater
+happiness. He would be a son quite to your liking. Both would be of one
+faith. And to me, Jeanne would be the dearest of daughters."
+
+The Sieur Angelot wrung the hand of his relative.
+
+"It must be as the young people wish. And I would like to have her a
+little while to myself."
+
+"That is right, too. I could wish she were my daughter, only then my son
+might miss a great joy."
+
+So the matter was settled. M. and Madame Fleury would have opened their
+house to Jeanne and her charge, but it was best for them to remain where
+they were. Wenonah came in often and Margot was always ready to do a
+service.
+
+One day Jeanne went down to the wharf to see the vessel depart for the
+North. It was a magnificent June morning, with the river almost like
+glass and a gentle wind from the south. She watched the tall figure on
+the deck, waving his hand until the proud outline mingled with others
+and was indistinct--or was it the tears in her eyes?
+
+M. St. Armand had some business in Quebec, but would remain only a short
+time.
+
+It seemed strangely solitary to Jeanne after that, although there was no
+lack of friends. Everybody was ready to serve her, and the young men
+bowed with the utmost respect when they met her. She took Pani out for
+short walks, the favorite one to the great oak tree where Jeanne had
+begun her life in Detroit. Children played about, brown Indian babies,
+grave-faced even in their play, vivacious French little ones calling to
+each other in shrill _patois_, laughing and tumbling and climbing. Had
+she once been wild and merry like them? Then Pani would babble of the
+past and stroke the soft curls and call her "little one." What a curious
+dream life was!
+
+They were busy with the governor's house and the military squares and
+the old fort. The streets were cleared up a little. Houses had been
+painted and whitewashed. Stores and shops spread out their attractions,
+booths were flying gay colors and showing tempting eatables. All along
+the river was the stir of active life. People stayed later in the
+streets these warm evenings and sat on stoops chatting. Young men and
+maids planned pleasures and sails on the river and went to bed gay and
+light-hearted. Was there any place quite like Old Detroit?
+
+Early one morning while the last stars were lingering in the sky and the
+east was suffused with a faint pink haze, a scarlet spire shot up that
+was not sunrise. No one remarked it at first. Then a broad flash that
+might have been lightning but was not, and a cry on the still air
+startled the sleepers. "Fire! Fire!"
+
+Suddenly all was terror. There had been no rain in some time, and the
+inflammable buildings caught like so much tinder. From the end of St.
+Anne's street up and down it ran, the dense smoke sometimes hiding the
+flames. Like the eruption of a great crater the smoke rose thick, black,
+with here and there a tongue of flame that was frightful. The streets
+were so narrow and crowded, the appliances for fighting the terrible
+enemy so limited, that men soon gave up in despair. On and on it went
+devouring all within its reach.
+
+Shop keepers emptied their stores, hurried their stocks down to the
+wharf, and filled the boats. Furniture, century-old heirlooms, were
+tumbled frantically out of houses to some place of refuge as the fire
+swept on, carried farther and farther. Daylight and sunlight were alike
+obscured. Frantic people ran hither and thither, children were gathered
+in arms, and hurried without the palisades, which in many instances were
+burned away. And presently the inhabitants gave way to the wildest
+despair. It was a new and terrible experience. The whole town must go.
+
+Jeanne had been sleeping soundly, and in the first uproar listened like
+one dazed. Was it an Indian assault, such as her father had feared
+presently? Then the smoke rushed into every crack and crevice.
+
+"Oh, what is it, what is it?" she cried, flinging her door open wide.
+
+"Oh, Mam'selle," cried Margot, "the street is all aflame. Run! run!
+Antoine has taken the children."
+
+Already the streets were crowded. St. Anne's was a wall of fire. One
+could hardly see, and the roar of the flames was terrific, drowning the
+cries and shrieks.
+
+"Come, quick!" Margot caught her arm.
+
+"Pani! Pani!" She darted back into the house. "Pani," she cried, pulling
+at her. "Oh, wake, wake! We must fly. The town is burning up."
+
+"Little one," said Pani, "nothing shall harm thee."
+
+"Come!" Jeanne pulled her out with her strong young arms, and tried to
+slip a gown over the shaking figure that opposed her efforts.
+
+"I will not go," she cried. "I know, you want to take me away from dear
+old Detroit. I heard something the Sieur Angelot said. O Jeanne, the
+good Father in Heaven sent you back once. Do not go again--"
+
+"The street is all on fire. Oh, Margot, help me, or we shall be burned
+to death. Pani, dear, we must fly."
+
+"Where is Jeanne Angelot," exclaimed a sturdy voice. "Jeanne, if you do
+not escape now--see, the flames have struck the house."
+
+It was the tall, strong form of Pierre De Ber, and he caught her in his
+arms.
+
+"No, no! O Pierre, take Pani. She is dazed. I can follow. Cover her with
+a blanket, so," and Jeanne, having struggled away, threw the blanket
+about the woman. Pierre caught her up. "Come, follow behind me. Do not
+let go. O Jeanne, you must be saved."
+
+Pani was too surprised for any resistance. She was not a heavy burthen,
+and he took her up easily.
+
+"Hold to my arm. There is such a crowd. And the smoke is stifling. O
+Jeanne! if you should come to harm!" and almost he was tempted to drop
+the Indian woman, but he knew Jeanne would not leave her.
+
+"I am here. O Pierre, how good you are!" and the praise was like a
+draught of wine to him.
+
+The flames flashed hither and thither though there was little wind. But
+the close houses fed it, and in many places there were inflammable
+stores. Now and then an explosion of powder shot up in the air. Where
+one fancied one's self out of danger the fire came racing on swift
+wings.
+
+"There will be only the river left," said some one.
+
+The crowd grew more dense. Pierre felt that he could hardly get to the
+gate. Then men with axes and hatchets hewed down the palisades, and, he
+being near, made a tremendous effort, and pushed his way outside. There
+was still crowd enough, but they soon came to a freer space, and he laid
+his burthen down, standing over her that no one might tread on her.
+
+"O Jeanne, are you safe? Thank heaven!"
+
+Jeanne caught his hand and pressed it in both of hers.
+
+"If we could get to Wenonah!" she said.
+
+He picked up his burthen again, but it was very limp.
+
+"Open the blanket a little. I was afraid to have her see the flames.
+Yes, let us go on," said Jeanne, courageously.
+
+Men and women were wringing their hands; children were screaming. The
+flames crackled and roared, but out here the way was a little clearer.
+They forced a path and were soon beyond the worst heat and smoke.
+
+Wenonah's lodge was deserted. Pierre laid the poor body down, and Jeanne
+bent over and kissed the strangely passive face.
+
+"Oh, she is dead! My poor, dear Pani!"
+
+"I did my best," said Pierre, in a beseeching tone.
+
+"Oh, I know you did! Pierre, I should have gone crazy if I had left her
+there to be devoured by the flames. But I will try--"
+
+She bathed the face, she chafed the limp hands, she called her by every
+endearing name. Ah, what would he not have given for one such sweet
+little sentence!
+
+"Pierre--your own people," she cried. "See how selfish I have been to
+take you--"
+
+"They were started before I came. Father was with them. They were going
+up to the square, perhaps to the Fort. Oh, the town will all go. The
+flames are everywhere. What an awful thing! Jeanne, what can I do? O
+Jeanne, little one, do not weep."
+
+For now Jeanne had given way to sobs.
+
+There was a rushing sound in the doorway, and Wenonah stood there.
+
+"Oh," she exclaimed, "I tried to get into the town, but could not. Thank
+the good God that you are safe. And Pani--no, she is not dead, her heart
+beats slowly. I will get her restored."
+
+"And I will go for further news," said Pierre.
+
+Very slowly Pani seemed to come back to life. The crowd was pouring out
+to the fields and farms, and down and up the river. The flames were not
+satisfied until they had devoured nearly everything, but they had not
+gone up to the Fort. And now a breeze of wind began to dissipate the
+smoke, and one could see that Old Detroit was a pile of ashes and ruins.
+Very little was left,--a few buildings, some big stone chimneys, and
+heaps of iron merchandise.
+
+Pierre returned with the news. Pani was lying on the couch with her eyes
+partly open, breathing, but that was all.
+
+"People are half crazy, but I don't wonder at it," said Pierre. "The
+warehouses are piles of ashes. Poor father will have lost everything,
+but I am young and strong and can help him anew."
+
+"Thou art a good son, Pierre," exclaimed Wenonah.
+
+Many had been routed out without any breakfast, and now it was high
+noon. Children were clamoring for something to eat. The farmers spread
+food here and there on the grass and invited the hungry ones. Jacques
+Giradin, the chief baker in the town, had kneaded his bread and put it
+in the oven, then gone to help his neighbors. The bakery was one of the
+few buildings that had been miraculously spared. He drew out his
+bread--it had been well baked--and distributed it to the hungry, glad to
+have something in this hour of need.
+
+It was summer and warm, and the homeless dropped down on the grass, or
+in the military gardens, and passed a strange night. The next morning
+they saw how complete the destruction had been. Old Detroit, the dream
+of Cadillac and De Tonti, La Salle and Valliant, and many another hero,
+the town that had prospered and had known adversity, that had been
+beleaguered by Indian foes, that had planted the cross and the golden
+lilies of France, that had bowed to the conquering standard of England,
+and then again to the stars and stripes of Liberty, that had brimmed
+over with romance and heroism, and even love, lay in ashes.
+
+In a few days clearing began and tents and shanties were erected for
+temporary use. But poverty stared the brave citizens in the face.
+Fortunes had been consumed as well. Business was ruined for a time.
+
+Jeanne remained with Wenonah. Pani improved, but she had been feeble a
+long while and the shock proved too much for her. She did not seem to
+suffer but faded gently away, satisfied when Jeanne was beside her.
+
+Tony Beeson, quite outside of the fire, opened his house in his rough
+but hospitable fashion to his wife's people. Rose had not fared so well.
+Pierre was his father's right hand through the troublous times. Many of
+the well-to-do people were glad to accept shelter anywhere. The Fleurys
+had saved some of their most valuable belongings, but the house had gone
+at last.
+
+"Thou art among the most fortunate ones," M. Loisel said to Jeanne a
+week afterward, "for thy portion was not vested here in Detroit. I am
+very glad."
+
+It seemed to Jeanne that she cared very little for anything save the
+sorrows and sufferings of the great throng of people. She watched by
+Pani through the day and slept beside her at night. "Little one," the
+feeble voice would say, "little one," and the clasp of the hand seemed
+enough. So it passed on until one day the breath came slower and
+fainter, and the lips moved without any sound. Jeanne bent over and
+kissed them for a last farewell. Father Rameau had given her the sacred
+rites of the Church, and said over her the burial service. A faithful
+woman she had been, honest and true.
+
+And this was what Monsieur St. Armand found when he returned to Detroit,
+a grave girl instead of the laughing child, and an old town in ashes.
+
+"I have news for you, too," he said to Jeanne, "partly sorrowful, partly
+consoling as well. Two days after reaching her convent home, your mother
+passed quietly away, and was found in the morning by one of the sisters.
+The poor, anxious soul is at peace. I cannot believe God means one to be
+so troubled when a sin is forgiven, especially one that has been a
+mistake. So, little one, if thou hadst listened to her pleadings thou
+wouldst have been left in a strange land with no dear friend. It is best
+this way. The poor Indian woman was nearer a mother to thee."
+
+A curious peace about this matter filled Jeanne Angelot's soul. Her
+mother was at rest. Perhaps now she knew it was not sinful to be happy.
+And for her father's sake it was better. He could not help but think of
+the poor, lonely woman in her convent cell, expiating what she
+considered a sin.
+
+"When Laurent comes we will go up to your beautiful island," he said. "I
+have bidden him to join me here."
+
+Jeanne took Monsieur around to the old haunts: the beautiful woods, the
+stream running over the rocky hillside, the flowers in bloom that had
+been so fateful to her, the nooks and groves, the green where they put
+up the Maypole, and her brave old oak, with its great spreading
+branches and wide leaves, nodding a welcome always.
+
+One day they went down to the King's wharf to watch a vessel coming up
+the beautiful river. The sun made it a sea of molten gold to-day, the
+air was clear and exhilarating. But it was not a young fellow who leaped
+so joyously down on to the dock. A tall, handsome man, looking something
+like his own father, and something like hers, Jeanne thought, for his
+eyes were of such a deep blue.
+
+"There is no more Old Detroit. It lies in ashes," said M. St. Armand,
+when the first greetings were over. "A sorrowful sight, truly."
+
+"And no little girl." Laurent smiled with such a fascination that it
+brought the bright color to her face. "Mademoiselle, I have been
+thinking of you as the little girl whose advice I disdained and had a
+ducking for it. I did not look for a young lady. I do not wonder now
+that you have taken so much of my father's heart."
+
+"We can give you but poor accommodations; still it will not be for long,
+as we go up North to accept our cousin's hospitality. You will be
+delighted to meet the Sieur Angelot. The Fleury family will be glad to
+see you again, though they have no such luxuriant hospitality as
+before."
+
+They all went to the plain small shelter in which the Fleurys were
+thankful to be housed, and none the less glad to welcome their friends.
+They kept Jeanne to dinner, and would gladly have taken her as a guest.
+M. Loisel had offered her a home, but she preferred staying with
+Wenonah. Paspah had never come back from his quest. Whether he had met
+with some accident, or simply found wild life too fascinating to leave,
+no one ever knew. To Wenonah it was not very heart-breaking.
+
+"Oh, little one," she said at parting, "I shall miss thee sorely.
+Detroit will not be the same without thee."
+
+And then Jeanne Angelot went sailing up the beautiful lakes again, past
+shores in later summer bloom and beauty and islands that might be fairy
+haunts. They were enchanted bowers to her, but it was some time before
+she knew what had lent them such an exquisite charm.
+
+So she came home to her father's house and met with a warm welcome, a
+noisy welcome from two boys, who could not understand why she would not
+climb and jump, though she did run races with them, and they were always
+hanging to her.
+
+"And you turn red so queerly sometimes," said Gaston, much puzzled. "I
+can't tell which is the prettier, the red or the white. But the red
+seems for M. St. Armand."
+
+Loudac and the dame were overjoyed to see her again. The good dame shook
+her head knowingly.
+
+"The Sieur will not keep her long," she said.
+
+Old Detroit rose very slowly from its ashes. In August Governor Hull
+arrived and found no home awaiting him, but had to go some distance to a
+farm house for lodgings. He brought with him many eastern ideas. The old
+streets must be widened, the lanes straightened, the houses made more
+substantial. There was a great outcry against the improvements. Old
+Detroit had been good enough. It was the center of trade, it commanded
+the highway of commerce. And no one had any money to spend on foolery.
+
+But he persevered until he obtained a grant from Congress, and set to
+work rectifying wrongs that had crept in, reorganizing the courts, and
+revising property deeds. The old Fort was repaired, the barracks put in
+better shape, the garrison augmented.
+
+But the event the Sieur Angelot had feared and foreseen, came to pass.
+Many difficulties had arisen between England and the United States, and
+at last culminated in war again. This time the northern border was the
+greatest sufferer on land. The Indians were aroused to new fury, the
+different tribes joining under Tecumseh, resolved to recover their
+hunting grounds. The many terrible battles have made a famous page in
+history. General Hull surrendered Detroit to the British, and once more
+the flag of England waved in proud triumph.
+
+But it was of short duration. The magnificent victories on the lakes and
+Generals Harrison's and Winchester's successes on land, again changed
+the fate of the North. Once more the stars and stripes went up over
+Detroit, to remain for all time to come.
+
+But after that it was a new Detroit,--wide streets and handsome
+buildings growing year by year, but not all the old landmarks
+obliterated; and their memories are cherished in many a history and
+romance.
+
+Jeanne St. Armand, a happy young wife, with two fathers very fond of
+her, went back to Detroit after awhile. And sometimes she wondered if
+she had really been the little girl to whom all these things had
+happened.
+
+When Louis Marsac heard the White Chief had found his daughter and given
+her to Laurent St. Armand, he ground his teeth in impotent anger. But
+for the proud, fiery, handsome Indian wife of whom he felt secretly
+afraid, he might have gained the prize, he thought. She was
+extravagantly fond of him, and he prospered in many things, but he
+envied the Sieur Angelot his standing and his power, though he could
+never have attained either.
+
+Pierre De Ber was a good son and a great assistance to his father in
+recovering their fortunes. After awhile he married, largely to please
+his mother, but he made an excellent husband. He knew why Jeanne Angelot
+could never have been more than a friend to him. But of his children he
+loved little Jeanne the best, and Madame St. Armand was one of her
+godmothers, when she was christened in the beautiful new church of St.
+Anne, which had experienced almost as varying fortunes as the town
+itself.
+
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Notes:
+
+   Obvious punctuation errors were corrected.
+
+   Page 4, "loops" changed to "loups". (the _shil loups_)
+
+   Page 55, "Pere" changed to "Pere". (And Pere Rameau)
+
+   Page 56, "Longeuils" changed to "Longueils". (even the De Longueils)
+
+   Page 60, "considere dquite" changed to "considered quite".
+
+   Page 78, "mattter" changed to "matter". (for that matter)
+
+   Page 270, "inquiried" changed to "inquired". (she inquired)
+
+   Page 276, "he" changed to "She". (here. She bought)
+
+   Page 315, "om" changed to "from". (from vague bits)
+
+   Page 336, "beanty" changed to "beauty". (beauty was her)
+
+
+
+***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD DETROIT***
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+Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for
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