use, I will go out to them."

M. Destournier left her with the young lover. Would she not go out on
the river? No. Then let them take a forest ramble. There were some fine
grapes back of the settlement. Pani had brought in a great basket full.
What would she do?

"Sit here on this ledge and watch the river. Pierre Cadotte is at the
fort. They came through the rapids at Lachine. It was very exciting. He
has been at the trading post up to the strait and tells marvellous
stories of hardships and heroism. And the good priest up there has made
converts already."

She was always so interested in some far-off thing.

"I wish a priest might make a convert here. There is much need."

She was off her guard. Canoes and boats were going up and down the
river. Some men were hauling in a catch of fish; just below, an Indian
woman sat weaving reed baskets, while a group of children played around.
Not an ideal spot for love-making, but Eustache was desperate.

"Thee"--leaning over until his black curls touched hers. "I would have
thee converted to love and matrimony. I have been a coward, and kept my
heartaches and desires to myself. I can do it no longer."

"But I am not for matrimony." She raised her clear eyes that would have
disheartened almost any man. "I do not want any husband. I like my own
fancies, and I suppose they are strange. There is only one person I ever
talk to about them. No one else understands. I think sometimes I do not
belong here, but to another country; no, the country is well enough. I
am suited to that. I do not want to go away."

"You would like old France, Paris. My mother would be glad to welcome
you, I know. And, oh, you would like Paris. Or, if you would rather stay
here----"

"I do not want to be married in a long time yet. Women change so much
when they have husbands, and it seems as if they made themselves unhappy
over many things their husbands do."

"But my sister was very happy. She would not have come all the way to
New France if she had not loved her husband dearly."

"You see that is so different. I do not love any one in that manner.
And, oh, M'sieu, she was like an angel, and prayed so much. It is a good
thing, but I would not like to stay in a darkened room and pray. I like
better to be roaming in the woods, and singing with the birds, and
gathering flowers. I believe I am not old enough to accept these
things."

"But my sister was only twelve when she was betrothed to the Sieur