, _ma mie_,
art wasting thy beauty in this savage land."

He stooped and kissed her. If he had been ready last year, she would
have hailed the prospect with delight. Why did it not seem so attractive
now?

"And the child?" she asked presently, her eyes fixed on the floor.

Was the tone indifferent?

"How much dost thou love her, _ma mie_? At first thy heart was sore for
the loss of our own, but time heals all such wounds. Destournier left no
stone unturned to discover her parentage, and failed. I think she has
been some one's love child. True we could give her our name, and with a
good dowry she could marry well. But she will want some years of convent
training to tone her down."

"And if we should leave her here? Though they say Miladi de Champlain
comes over soon, and there may be a court with maids of honor."

He laughed. "What I fancy is this, though I am no seer. Destournier is
fond of her, fatherly now, but she is shooting up into a tall girl.
There will not be so many years between them as the Sieur and
Mademoiselle Boulle. And some day he will take her to wife. 'Twere a
pity to spoil the romance. She adores him."

Miladi bit her lip hard, and drew her brow into a sharp frown.

"What nonsense!" she made answer.

"Destournier is a fine fellow, and will be a rich one some day."

"The more need that he should marry in his own station."

"But there is talk of reproducing home titles in this new land. And
Baron Destournier can raise his wife to his own station. If the child
should not be amenable to training, or develop some waywardness, there
might be sorrow, rather than joy or satisfaction in thine heart."

"There will be time enough to consider," she returned.

He left the room. She went out on the shady side of the gallery, and
looked down over the town. The two under discussion a moment ago were
climbing the steep rocks instead of taking the path where steps were
cut. The wind blew her shining hair about, her face was filled with
ripples of laughter. He took her arm and she would have no help, but
sprang like a deer from point to point, then turned to throw her
merriment at him.

"Yes, miladi would take her to France. What if some day he should
follow?"

The Governor spent a month in intense satisfaction, enlarging the
borders of his pet garden, talking with M. Hebert, who had been watching
the growth of some fine fruit trees imported from northern France, that
had blossomed and were perfecting