rd her whisper, and when he loosed
her to look once more into her level eyes, they were dim with tears.

*****

Night had fallen on the Athabasca when they passed out of the wood
across the field, and they walked together hand in hand.

A great round moon was rising over the eastern forest, silvering the
hills with shining crowns.

Peace brooded on the world.

"And here I found him, M'sieu," Maren Le Moyne was saying sadly, "in
that low mound, cared for and worshipped by these peaceful beings who
till the land and follow his teachings. They were his people. He taught
them purity and peace, the use of plough and tool, the creed of love and
kindness. Here was his dream of empire, his plan of progress. He of the
Good Heart they called him, these Indians who were his people, and mourn
him as a chief. That was his castle yonder, the older cabin to the east.
Here is the fruit of his labour." She motioned over the new-ploughed
land.

"Beyond the trees yonder are bigger fields, a wider holding. And yet
they are poor, these people of peace. The tribes despise them and scoff
at their worship...He taught them the prayers,--the rosary. I have
come after him...Who knows? This is my dream also, my fulfilment. Love,
M'sieu," she raised her face to him, and the deep eyes flickering with
the old elusive light, "Love shall be my crown!"

"Aye," said Anders McElroy, after the manner of a covenant, "together we
shall work and dream yet greater things, trusting in God,--live and
love and enter into our heritage.... I have left the Company forever.
Together we shall build the empire of your dreams.... Oh, Maid of my
Heart, the Long Trail has ended in the harbour of New Homes!"

End of Project Gutenberg's The Maid of the Whispering Hills, by Vingie E. Roe

*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MAID OF THE WHISPERING HILLS ***

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