t. Madame Destournier's health was precarious, and she had
little idea of what was necessary for a girl, having been
convent-trained herself. Now that Madame de Champlain had gone there
was no real companionship for Rose, who was surely outgrowing her
childish fancies.

"How would you like it, Therese?" asked her mother.

Therese was a solid dark-eyed, dark-haired, rather heavy-looking girl,
without the French vivacity and eagerness. Destournier smiled inwardly;
he could hardly fancy their being companions; yet in a way, each might
benefit the other.

"Why--if you approved. Though I am never lonely," raising her eyes to
the visitor.

"Rose is quite given to rambling about. She haunts the woods, she is
fond of canoeing, and I think she has quite a mind for study. I am sorry
there are so few opportunities. Our good fathers seem to frown on
everything but prayers."

"Prayers are good, but there must be work, as well," said Madame Hebert,
who had been brought up a Huguenot, and who thought conventual life a
great waste.

"I should like the change for her. It may not be for long, but it would
be a favor. And you need not feel that you must devote a great deal of
time and energy to her, but give her the shelter of a home, until
matters change a little," with a hopeful accent in his voice, and a
smile that had the same aspect.

"Madame Destournier is not well?" in a tone of inquiry.

"No. She should have gone to France with the Sieur and his wife, but it
was thought she had not the strength to stand the sea voyage. I feel
much troubled about her."

Madame Hebert was sympathetic, but she had never admired the wife as
much as she did the husband. She was too volatile in the early days, and
held her head quite too high.

It was arranged that Rose should be an inmate of the Hebert home for a
month or two. It was such a comfortable, cheerful-looking place. There
was a set of bookshelves, and no one beside the Governor owned more than
a prayer-book, which did little good, since they could hardly read in
their own language.

M. Ralph did not go at once to his wife, but stopped in the kitchen.
Mawha was brewing some herbs. Wanamee entered with a plate on which
there was some wheaten toast.

"She will not take it. She does nothing but fret for Monsieur, and say
dreadful things about _ma fille_"--then she stopped in a fright, seeing
her master.

"Where is Rose?" he asked.

"She has not been here all day. I sent Pani