Xavier had been absent nearly two
years. Father Ignatius missed him sadly--all the life and fire seemed to
have gone out of the mission. Even Marie moved about her work in a
listless, languid way, which contrasted markedly with her once lithe and
rapid movements. They had not once heard from the explorers, and Father
Ignatius shook his head sadly, and feared that he would never see his
energetic colleague again. The Black Beaver had slept through the last
months of winter, and, as with the general awakening of spring the bears
came out of their dens, and the snakes sunned themselves near their
holes, he too stretched himself lazily and awoke to a consciousness of
what was passing around him. In the first place something was amiss with
Marie. When she came to the wigwam it was not to chat merrily of the
affairs of the mission. She did not braid as many baskets as formerly,
and no longer showed him new patterns in shell mosaic on the lids of
little boxes. He was a curious old man, and he soon drew her secret from
her. Marie loved Pere Francois Xavier, and he had gone.

The Black Beaver went down to the mission one evening and had a long
talk with Father Ignatius. He ascertained first that Pere Francois
Xavier really meant to return; then, with all the dignity of an old
feudal baron, he offered Marie as a bride for his spiritual son. Very
gently the good Pere Ignace explained that Romish priests were so nearly
in the kingdom of heaven that the question of marrying and giving in
marriage was not for them to consider. The Black Beaver went home, told
no one of his visit, and for several days indulged in the worst drunken
spree of which he was capable. When he came out of it he announced to
his wife and Marie that he was going away on his annual trip for stores,
but that they need not accompany him.

Marie knelt as usual in the little church on the evening of the day on
which her father had gone away. Pere Francois Xavier had replaced the
cameo on the Virgin's breast before he went; it was a safer place than
the vault of a bank would have been, had such a thing existed in the
country. There was no one in the island sacrilegious enough to rob the
church. Marie had gazed at the stone each time that she repeated the
prayer which he had taught her. She looked up now, and it was gone.

Half-way upon their northward route, Tontz's band were struggling
wearily on when they were met by a solitary Indian, who, though he
carried a l