le'--then comes the dance of freedom."

She laughed, with a ripple of music.

"I wonder," he began, after a pause, watching her lithe step and the
proud way she carried her head--"I wonder if you would like to cross the
ocean, to go to France?"

"With the beautiful Madame? It is said she is to sail as soon as the
boats are loaded."

"Miladi might go with her. I could not be spared. And you----"

He saw the sudden, great throb that moved her breast up to her very
shoulders.

"I should not want to go," in a quiet tone.

"But if I found at the last hour that I could go?"

She drew a long breath. "M'sieu, I have no desire to see France. I hear
you and the Governor talk about it, and the great court where the King
spends his time in foolishness, and the Queen Mother plots wicked
schemes. And they throw people in prison for religion's sake. Did I hear
a story of some people who were burned at the stake? Why, that is as
cruel as the untaught Indians. And to cross the big, fearful ocean. Last
summer we sailed up to the great gulf, you know, and you could see where
the ocean and sky met. No, I like this old, rocky place the best."

"But if miladi wanted you to go very much?"

"She will not want me very much, in her heart," and she glanced up so
straightforwardly that he flushed. "No, you will leave me here and I
will be very religious. I will go to the chapel every Sunday and pray. I
will have a _prie-dieu_ in one corner, and kneel many times a day,
praying that you will come back safely. I shall have something real to
pray for then. And--miladi will be very happy."

There was a fervor, touching in its earnestness, that penetrated his
soul.

"You will not miss me much," he ventured.

The quick tears sprang to her eyes.

"Oh, yes, I should miss you," and her voice had a little tremble in it.
"But you would return. Oh, yes, I know the good God would send you back.
See how many times he has sent the Sieur de Champlain back!"

She raised her face to his, and though the tears still beaded her long
lashes, the lips smiled adorably. He could have kissed her, but his fine
respect told him that endearment was sacred to another man now.

"I do not think I shall go. Some one must be here to see that things do
not go to wreck."

She wondered if miladi would go without him. They walked on silently. He
was thinking of the other man. The Sieur hoped to persuade some
better-class emigrants on his next voyage.

Whether mil