close proximity to himself; and engrossing employment at a
distance for him, rather than the expressed solicitude for Father
Ignatius, prompted this appointment. The results of the following year
approved the arrangement. The mission received a new accession of life;
its interests were pushed forward energetically.

Father Francis Xavier devoted himself to an acquisition of the various
Indian dialects, and to excursions among the neighboring tribes.
Converts were made in astonishing numbers, and they brought liberal
gifts to the little church from their simple possessions. Father
Ignatius had never thought to barter with the trappers and traders, but
his colleague did; large church warehouses were erected, and the mission
soon had revenues of importance. Away in the interior Father Xavier had
discovered there was a silver mine; but this discovery, for the present,
he made no attempt at exploiting. He had secured it to the church by
title deed and treaty with the chief who claimed it; had visited it and
assured himself that it would some day be very valuable, and he
contented himself with this for the present, and even managed to forget
its acquisition in his yearly report sent to Montreal. Father Francis
Xavier was something of a geologist; his father was a Florentine
jeweller, and the son had studied as his apprentice, not having at first
been destined for the church. Even after taking holy orders, Father
Francis Xavier had labored over precious stones designed for
ecclesiastical decoration. His specialty had been that of a gem
engraver, and his long white fingers were remarkably skilful and
delicate. This northern region, with all its wealth of precious stones,
was a great jewel casket for him, and he became at once an enthusiastic
collector.

Before the coming of his assistant, Father Ignatius had managed his own
simple housekeeping in all its most humble details. Now they had the
services of an Indian maid of all work, who had been brought up under
the eyes of Father Ignatius, and whom the old man regarded rather as a
daughter than as a servant. Her moccasined feet fell as silently as
those of spirits as she glided about their lodge. She never sang at her
work, and rarely spoke, but she smiled often with a smile so childlike
as to be almost silly in expression. Father Ignatius loved the silent
smile, and a word from him was always sure to bring it; but it angered
Father Francis Xavier more than many a more repulsiv