been. Yet
underneath the rambling chatter Virginia was aware of something new in
her consciousness, something delicious but as yet vague. In the gayest
moment of her half-jesting, half-affectionate gossip with the Indian
woman, she felt its uplift catching her breath from beneath, so that
for the tiniest instant she would pause as though in readiness for
some message which nevertheless delayed. A fresh delight in the
present moment held her, a fresh anticipation of the immediate future,
though both delight and anticipation were based on something without
her knowledge. That would come later.

The sound of rapid footsteps echoed across the lower hall, a whistle
ran into an air, sung gayly, with spirit:

_"J'ai perdu ma maitresse,
Sans l'avoir merite,
Pour un bouquet de roses
Que je lui refusai.
Li ya longtemps que je t'aime,
Jamais je ne t'oublierai!"_

She fell abruptly silent, and spoke no more until she descended to the
council-room where the table was now spread for dinner.

Two silver candlesticks lit the place. The men were waiting for her
when she entered, and at once took their seats in the worn, rude
chairs. White linen and glittering silver adorned the service, Galen
Albret occupied one end of the table, Virginia the other. On either
side were Doctor and Mrs. Cockburn; McDonald, the Chief Trader;
Richardson, the clerk, and Crane, the missionary of the Church of
England. Matthews served with rigid precision in the order of
importance, first the Factor, then Virginia, then the doctor, his
wife, McDonald, the clerk, and Crane in due order. On entering a room
the same precedence would have held good. Thus these people, six
hundred miles as the crow flies from the nearest settlement,
maintained their shadowy hold on civilization.

The glass was fine, the silver massive, the linen dainty, Matthews
waited faultlessly: but overhead hung the rough timbers of the
wilderness post, across the river faintly could be heard the howling
of wolves. The fare was rice, curry, salt pork, potatoes, and beans;
for at this season the game was poor, and the fish hardly yet running
with regularity.

Throughout the meal Virginia sat in a singular abstraction. No
conscious thoughts took shape in her mind, but nevertheless she
seemed to herself to be occupied in considering weighty matters. When
directly addressed, she answered sweetly. Much of the time she studied
her father's face. She found it old. T