anching out.

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

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

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

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

"To you. There will be so many things. But the long, long days. And
miladi says there are so many pretty girls in Paris, whose dancing and
singing are marvellous, and who would laugh at a frock of deerskin. Oh,
you will forget me, and all the time I shall think of you. You will not
care."

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

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

"Oh, I shall hug it to my heart. The star! the star! And when the sky is
thick with clouds I shall remember you told me the stars were always
there. And I will shut my eyes and see you. I see strange things at
times."

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

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

It was odd, he thought, but with all the admiration of her husband
miladi made as great a time as the child. What should she do in this
horrible lonely place, shut up in the fort all winter, with no company
but an Indian woman and a child whose limited understa