range effect upon Josephine of the unexpected appearance of Adare
and his wife passed as quickly as it had come. When Philip looked at
her again she was waving a hand and smiling. Adare's voice came booming
up the trail. He saw Miriam laughing. Yet in spite of himself--even as
he returned Adare's greeting--he could not keep himself from looking at
the two women with curious emotions.

"This is rank mutiny!" cried Adare, as they came up. "I told them they
must sleep until noon. I have already punished Miriam. And you,
Mignonne? Does Philip let you off too easily?"

Adare's wife had given Philip her hand. A few hours' rest had
brightened her eyes and brought colour into her face. She looked still
younger, still more beautiful. And Adare was riotous with joy because
of it.

"Look at your mother, Josephine," he commanded in a hoarse whisper,
meant for all to hear. "I said the forests would do more than a
thousand doctors in Montreal!"

"You do look splendid, Mikawe," said Josephine, slipping an arm about
her mother's waist.

Adare had turned into a sudden volley of greetings to the feasting
dogs, and for another moment Philip's eyes were on mother and daughter.
Josephine was the taller of the two by half a head. She was more like
her father. He noted that the colour had not returned fully into her
cheeks, while the flush in Miriam's face had deepened. There was
something forced in Josephine's laugh, a note that was unreal and
make-believe, as she turned to Philip.

"Isn't my mother wonderful, Philip? I call her Mikawe because that
means a little more than Mother in Cree--something that is almost
undying and spirit-like. You will never grow old, my little mother!"

"Ponce de Leon made a great mistake when he didn't search in these
forests for his fountain of eternal youth," said Adare, laying a hand
on Philip's shoulder. "Would you guess that it was twenty-two years ago
a month from to-day that she came to be mistress of Adare House? And
you, Ma Cheri," added Adare tenderly, taking his wife by the hand, "Do
you remember that it was over this same trail that we took our first
walk--from home? We went to the Chasm."

"Yes, I remember."

"And here--where we stand--the wood violets were so thick they left
perfume on our boots."

"And you made me a wreath of them--with the red bakneesh," said Miriam
softly.

"And braided it in your hair."

"Yes."

She was breathing a little more quickly. For a moment it seemed a