t where she was sewing, and turned towards
him. As she did so, the work, Shon's coat, dropped from her hands, her
face paled, and her eyes grew big with fear. She leaned against a chair
for support--this man's presence had weakened her so. She stood silent,
save for a slight moan that broke from her lips, as Pierre lighted a
cigarette coolly, and then said to an old Indian woman who sat upon the
floor braiding a basket: "Get up, Ikni, and go away."

Ikni rose, came over, and peered into the face of the half-breed. Then
she muttered: "I know you--I know you. The dead has come back again."
She caught his arm with her bony fingers as if to satisfy herself that
he was flesh and blood, and shaking her head dolefully, went from the
room. When the door closed behind her there was silence, broken only by
an exclamation from the man.

The other drew her hand across her eyes, and dropped it with a motion of
despair. Then Pierre said, sharply: "Bien?"

"Francois," she replied, "you are alive!"

"Yes, I am alive, Lucy."

She shuddered, then grew still again and whispered: "Why did you let it
be thought that you were drowned? Why? Oh, why"? she moaned.

He raised his eyebrows slightly, and between the puffs of smoke, said:

"Ah yes, my Lucy, why? It was so long ago. Let me see: so--so--ten
years. Ten years is a long time to remember, eh?"

He came towards her. She drew back; but her hand remained on the chair.
He touched the plain gold ring on her finger, and said:

"You still wear it. To think of that--so loyal for a woman! How she
remembers, holy Mother!... But shall I not kiss you, yes, just once
after eight years--my wife?"

She breathed hard and drew back against the wall, dazed and frightened,
and said:

"No, no, do not come near me; do not speak to me--ah, please, stand
back, for a moment--please!"

He shrugged his shoulders slightly, and continued, with mock tenderness:

"To think that things come round so! And here you have a home. But that
is good. I am tired of much travel and life all alone. The prodigal goes
not to the home, the home comes to the prodigal." He stretched up his
arms as if with a feeling of content.

"Do you--do you not know," she said, "that--that--"

He interrupted her:

"Do I not know, Lucy, that this is your home? Yes. But is it not all
the same? I gave you a home ten years ago--to think, ten years ago! We
quarrelled one night, and I left you. Next morning my boat was found
below t