She crawled out cautiously, and looked up at the sun. It had passed the
meridian. She was hungry, so she searched about and found some berries,
but she longed for something more substantial. For the first time
solitude seemed to pall upon her. She felt as if everything had been
swept away.

Toward night she crept down to the settlement. Several of the Indian
women would take her in, she knew. There was Noko sitting just outside
her tent; she would not accept a cabin of logs or stone. She was making
a cape of gulls' feathers, that she might sell to some of the traders,
who often took curious Indian finery home with their furs. Her three
sons were trappers. One had a wife and three children that the poor
mother provided for, and when her brave came home, she was devoted to
him, grateful for a pleasant word. What curious ideas these aborigines
had of wedded love!

"Noko, will you take me in for the night, and give me some supper?" she
asked, as she threw herself down beside the Indian woman, who, at
forty, looked at least sixty, and though she had the face of her tribe,
it was marked by a grave sort of pleasantness, and not the severity that
generally characterized middle life.

"Has the Sieur gone to Tadoussac?"

"Not that I know of. But I have offended miladi. And your wigwam is
always so clean, and there are no children."

The woman shook her head with a sort of remonstrance.

"You will have them of your own some day. When they are little, you will
care for them. They will be no trouble. When they are older, you will be
proud of them, and rejoice in their bravery. Then they go away, and
forget."

She began to put up her work. "Are you in earnest?" she asked. "Do you
need shelter?"

"Oh, the Gaudrions would take me in, but there is such a crowd, I am for
a little quiet and solitude to-night."

"Thou shalt have it. The Sieur has been good to me. But it is hardly
wise to quarrel with one's home."

"There was no quarrel. Miladi wanted me to do something that I could
not. And you know I have no real claim upon them, Noko, I belong to
Quebec, not to any person."

She gave a little laugh that sounded almost shrill. There was not so
much joy in belonging only to one's self.

"To Quebec, yes."

"Now let me kindle the fire. See how handy I can be. And to-morrow I can
help you with that beautiful cape. I suppose the great ladies in Paris
feel very grand in some of these things. I heard the Governor say that a
g