said Angus, addressing
himself again to my cousin. "In the Latin and the Greek they trained
him. History books he read, and stories in song. Ay, and the manners
of Godfrey! Well might the whole pride of my father and mother be on
their one white son. A grand young gentleman was Godfrey,--Great
Godfrey we called him, when he was eighteen.

"The fine, rich people that would come up in bateaux from Montreal to
visit my father had the smile and the kind word for Godfrey; but they
looked upon us with the eyes of the white man for the Indian. And that
look we were more and more sure was growing harder in Godfrey's eyes.
So we looked back at him with the eyes of the wolf that stares at the
bull moose, and is fierce to pull him down, but dares not try, for the
moose is too great and lordly.

"Mind you, Aleck McTavish, for all we hated Godfrey when we thought he
would be looking at us like strange Indians--for all that, yet we were
proud of him that he was our own brother. Well, we minded how he was
all like one with us when he was little; and in the calm looks of
him, and the white skin, and the yellow hair, and the grandeur of him,
we had pride, do you understand? Ay, and in the strength of him we
were glad. Would we not sit still and pleased when it was the talk how
he could run quicker than the best, and jump higher than his head--ay,
would we! Man, there was none could compare in strength with Great
Godfrey, the youngest of us all!

"He and my father and mother more and more lived by themselves in this
room. Yonder room across the hall was left to us six Indians. No
manners, no learning had we; we were no fit company for Godfrey. My
mother was like she was wilder with love of Godfrey the more he grew
and the grander, and never a word for days and weeks together did she
give to us. It was Godfrey this, and Godfrey that, and all her thought
was Godfrey!

"Most of all we hated him when she was lying dead here on this table.
We six in the other room could hear Godfrey and my father groan and
sigh. We would step softly to the door and listen to them kissing her
that was dead,--them white, and she Indian like ourselves,--and us not
daring to go in for the fear of the eyes of our father. So the
soreness was in our hearts so cruel hard that we would not go in till
the last, for all their asking. My God, my God, Aleck McTavish, if you
saw her! she seemed smiling like at Godfrey, and she looked like him
then, for all she was br