please," she corrected. "But I am not that--not
the least bit. I want go because--because to go with you, even to
Manitoba, is not nearly so dreadful as to stay home without you."

"But come," said the girl, springing lightly to her feet, "we have
matters of great moment for immediate consideration."

He was at her heels. One hand resting on his strong arm sufficed to
steady her firm body as she tip-toed over the stones. Somewhere in
the canoe she found a parcel, wrapped in a white napkin. Under a
friendly beech she laid her dainties before him.

In a crimson glory the sun had sunk behind the black forest across
the lake. The silver waters had draped in mist their fringe of
inverted trees along the shore, and lay, passive and breathing and
very still, beneath the smooth-cutting canoe... One by one the stars
came out in the heavens, and one by one their doubles wavered and
mimicked in the lake. A duller point of light bespoke a settler's
cabin on the distant shore.

"And we shall build our own home, and live our own lives, and love
each other--always,--only, for ever and ever?" she breathed.

"For ever and ever," he answered.

A waterfowl cut the air in his sharp, whistling flight. The last
white shimmer of daylight faded from the surface of the lake. The
lovers floated on, gently, joyously, into their ocean of hope and
happiness.

CHAPTER I

THE BECK OF FORTUNE

The last congratulations had been offered; the last good wishes,
somewhat mixed with tears, had been expressed. The bride, glowing in
the happy consciousness of her own beauty, and deified by the great
tenderness that enveloped her new estate like a golden mist, said her
farewells with steady voice and undrooping eyes. Once only, when two
frail arms drew her to the great mother-heart that was fighting with
joy and unspoken sorrow through its travail of the soul, did their
bright rays moisten and tremble like sun-shafts in a pool. It was for
the moment only; one hallowing kiss on the dear, white cheek; then,
with uplifted head, she said good-bye, and the mother smiled upon her
in a pride that was deeper than her pain. The breed that had not
feared, a generation back, to cross the seas and carve a province and
a future from the forest, was not a breed to withhold its most
beautiful and noble from the ventures of the greater West.

It had been a busy winter for John Harris, and this, although the
consummation of his great desire, was but the