mmer 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