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diff --git a/41526-0.txt b/41526-0.txt index 61c00f6..9e9aad0 100644 --- a/41526-0.txt +++ b/41526-0.txt @@ -1,37 +1,4 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook, A Little Girl in Old St. Louis, by Amanda -Minnie Douglas - - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - - - - -Title: A Little Girl in Old St. Louis - - -Author: Amanda Minnie Douglas - - - -Release Date: December 1, 2012 [eBook #41526] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - - -***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD ST. LOUIS*** - - -E-text prepared by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed Proofreading -Team (http://www.pgdp.net) - - +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 41526 *** A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD ST. LOUIS @@ -10803,362 +10770,4 @@ THE “LITTLE GIRL” SERIES A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD DETROIT. A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD ST. LOUIS. - - -***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD ST. LOUIS*** - - -******* This file should be named 41526-0.txt or 41526-0.zip ******* - - -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: -http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/4/1/5/2/41526 - - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, -set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to -copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to -protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm -concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared -with anyone. For forty years, he produced and distributed Project -Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. - -Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. -unless a copyright notice is included. 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You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - - - - -Title: A Little Girl in Old St. Louis - - -Author: Amanda Minnie Douglas - - - -Release Date: December 1, 2012 [eBook #41526] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - - -***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD ST. LOUIS*** - - -E-text prepared by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed Proofreading -Team (http://www.pgdp.net) - - - -A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD ST. LOUIS - -by - -AMANDA M. DOUGLAS - -Author of "A Little Girl in Old Boston," "A Little Girl in Old Detroit," -"A Little Girl in Old Washington," etc. - - - - - - - -New York -Dodd, Mead & Company -1903 - -Copyright, 1903. -By Dodd, Mead and Company. - -Published, September, 1903. - -Burr Printing House, -New York. - - - - -CONTENTS - CHAPTER I--RENE DE LONGUEVILLE - CHAPTER II--OLD ST. LOUIS - CHAPTER III--A NEW HOME - CHAPTER IV--THE SOWING OF A THORN - CHAPTER V--WITH A TOUCH OF SORROW - CHAPTER VI--BY THE FIRESIDE - CHAPTER VII--AT THE KING'S BALL - CHAPTER VIII--THE SURPRISE - CHAPTER IX--PRISONERS - CHAPTER X--IN THE WILDERNESS - CHAPTER XI--WAS EVER WELCOME SWEETER - CHAPTER XII--HER ANSWER - CHAPTER XIII--PASSING YEARS - CHAPTER XIV--AT THE BALL - CHAPTER XV--GATHERING THISTLES - CHAPTER XVI--THE RISE IN THE RIVER - CHAPTER XVII--RIVALS - CHAPTER XVIII--A FINE ADJUSTMENT - CHAPTER XIX--THIS WAY AND THAT - CHAPTER XX--WHEN A WOMAN WILL - CHAPTER XXI--FROM ACROSS THE SEA - CHAPTER XXII--A NEW ST. LOUIS - - - - - Cities that have grown from small hamlets seldom keep register of - their earlier days, except in the legends handed down in families. St. - Louis has the curious anomaly of beginning over several times. For the - earliest knowledge of how the little town looked I wish to express my - obligations for some old maps and historical points to Mr. Frederick - M. Crunden, Public Librarian, Miss Katharine I. Moody, and Colonel - David Murphy. - - A. M. Douglas. - - - - -CHAPTER I - -RENE DE LONGUEVILLE - - -The bell had clanged and the gates of the stockade were closed. There -were some houses on the outside; there was not so much fear of the -Indians here, for the French had the art of winning them into -friendship. Farms were cultivated, and the rich bottom lands produced -fine crops. Small as the town was twenty years before the eighteenth -century ended, it was the headquarters of a flourishing trade. The -wisdom of Pierre Laclede had laid the foundation of a grand city. The -lead mines even then were profitably worked, and supplied a large tract -of the Mississippi River east and west. - -Antoine Freneau stood a few moments in the door of his log hut, down by -the old Mill Creek, listening with his hand to one ear. There were -sounds of spring all about, but he was not heeding them. Then he turned, -closed the door, which was braced on the inner side with some rough iron -bands; fastened it with the hook, and let down a chain. He was seldom -troubled with unexpected evening visitors. - -The log hut was hidden at the back with trees enough to form a sort of -grove. It had two rooms. This at the front was a sort of miscellaneous -storehouse. Freneau did quite a trade with the Indians and the boatmen -going up and down the river. There was no real attempt at orderly -store-keeping. Articles were in heaps and piles. One had almost to -stumble over them. - -The back room was larger. There was a stone chimney, with a great wide -fireplace, where Freneau was cooking supper. In the far corner was a bed -raised on sawed rounds of logs, with skins stretched over the framework, -on which was a sack of hay with a heap of Indian blankets, just as he -had crawled out of it in the morning. A table and three stools -manufactured by himself; a rude sort of closet, and a curious old -brass-bound chest, now almost black with age, completed the furnishing. -The puncheon floor, in common use at that time, was made with logs split -in the middle and the rounding side laid in a sort of clay plaster that -hardened and made it very durable. The top would get worn smooth -presently. The walls were hung with various trophies and arms of -different kinds. Two windows had battened shutters; one stood a little -way open, and this was on the creek side. - -The supper had a savory fragrance. He had baked a loaf of bread on a -heated flat stone, spreading the dough out thin and turning it two or -three times. A dish of corn stewed with salted pork, a certain kind of -coffee compounded of roasted grains and crushed in the hollow of a -stone, gave out a fragrance, and now he was broiling some venison on the -coals. - -There were sundry whispers about the old man as to smuggling. Once his -place had been searched, he standing by, looking on and jibing the men -so engaged, turning any apparent mystery inside out for them. Then he -would be gone days at a time, but his house was securely fastened. -Occasionally he had taken longer journeys, and once he had brought back -from New Orleans a beautiful young wife, who died when her baby girl was -born. The nurse had taken it to her home in Kaskaskia. Then it had been -sent to the Sisters' School at New Orleans. She had been home all one -winter and had her share in the merry making. In the spring her father -took her to Canada, to the great disappointment of hosts of admirers. At -Quebec she was married and went to France. That was ten years ago. He -had grown queer and morose since, and turned miserly. - -There was a peremptory thump at the door, and Antoine started, glancing -wildly about an instant, then went through and unfastened the stout -hook. The chain he did not remove: it was about a foot from the floor -and well calculated to trip up any unwary intruder and send him -sprawling face downward. - -The night had grown dark, and a mist-like rain had set in. The trees -were beating about in the rising wind. - -"Open wide to us, Antoine Freneau! See what I have brought you, if you -can make light enough." - -"Gaspard Denys--is it you? Why, I thought you were in the wilds of -Canada. And----" - -He kicked aside the chain and peered over at the small figure beside -Gaspard. - -Gaspard had just stood the child down, and his arms tingled with the -strain when the muscles were set loose. - -"You have brought her!" - -There was a sound in the voice far from welcome, almost anger. - -"Yes; your messenger from New Orleans told the truth. The nurse or -companion, whatever you may call her, had instructions, if no one -claimed her, to place her in a convent." - -"And you--you interfered?" Freneau struck his clinched fist hard on a -pile of skins. - -Gaspard laughed. - -"What I am to do with a child is more than I can tell," Freneau said -doggedly, almost threateningly. - -"Well, you can give us something to eat. Your supper has a grand -fragrance to a hungry man. Then we can discuss the other points. A bear -taken away from his meal is always cross--eh, Antoine?" - -Freneau turned swarthy; he was dark, and the red tinge added made him -look dangerous. - -"I don't understand----" - -"Well, neither do I. You married your daughter to a French title when -you knew she would have been happier here with a young fellow who loved -her; and--yes, I am sure she loved me. Somewhere back, when my forebears -called themselves St. Denys, there might have been a title in the -family. In this New World we base our titles on our courage, ambitions, -successes. Then her little daughter was born, and she pined away in the -old Chteau de Longueville and presently died, while her husband was -paying court and compliments to the ladies at the palace of Louis XVII. -There are deep mutterings over in France. And De Longueville, with his -half dozen titles, marries one of Marie Antoinette's ladies in waiting. -The child goes on in the old chteau. Two boys are born to the French -inheritance, and little mademoiselle is not worth a rush. She will be -sent to her grandfather somewhere in the province of Louisiana. But the -nurse goes to Canada to marry her lover, expatriated for some cause. You -see, I know it all. If mademoiselle had stayed in France she would have -been put in a convent." - -"The best thing! the best thing!" interrupted the old man irascibly. - -"Word was sent to enter her in a convent at Quebec. Well, I have brought -her here. Give us some supper." - -He had been taking off the child's cap and coat after they entered the -living room. A great flaming torch stood up in one corner of the -chimney, and shed a peculiar golden-red light around the room, leaving -some places in deep shadow. The old man turned his meat, took up his -cake of bread, and put them on the table. Then he went for plates and -knives. - -"This is your grandfather, Rene," Denys said, turning the child to face -him. - -The girl shrank a little, and then suddenly surveyed him from his yarn -stockings and doeskin breeches up to his weather-beaten and not -especially attractive face, surmounted by a shock of grizzled hair. She -looked steadily out of large brown eyes. She was slim, with a clear-cut -face and air of dignity, a child of nine or so. Curiously enough, his -eyes fell. He turned in some confusion without a word and went on with -his preparations. - -"Let us have some supper. It is not much. Even if I had expected a guest -I could not have added to it." - -"It is a feast to a hungry man. Our dinner was not over-generous." - -Gaspard took one side of his host and placed the little girl opposite -her grandfather. She evinced no surprise. She had seen a good deal of -rough living since leaving old Quebec. - -Antoine broke the bread in chunks and handed it to each. The dish of -corn was passed and the venison steak divided. - -"After this long tramp I would like to have something stronger than your -home-brewed coffee, though that's not bad. Come, be a little friendly to -a returned traveller," exclaimed the guest. - -"You should have had it without the asking, Gaspard Denys, if you had -given me a moment's time. You came down the Illinois, I suppose?" - -"To St. Charles. There the boat was bound to hang up for the night. But -Pierre Joutel brought us down in his piroque after an endless amount of -talk. There was a dance at St. Charles. So it was dark when we reached -here. Lucky you are outside the stockade." - -"And you carried me," said the child, in a clear, soft voice that had a -penetrative sound. - -Antoine started. Why should he hear some pleading in the same voice -suddenly strike through the years? - -Gaspard poured out a glass of wine. Then he offered the bottle to -Antoine, who shook his head. - -"How long since?" asked Gaspard mockingly. - -"I do not drink at night." - -"Rene, you are not eating. This corn is good, better than with the -fish. And the bread! Antoine, you could change the name of the town or -the nickname. Go into the baking business." - -Freneau shrugged his shoulders. - -Scarcity of flour and bread had at one time given the town the -appellation of Pain Court. Now there were two bakeries, but many of the -settlers made excellent bread. Freneau's bread cake was split in the -middle and buttered, at least Gaspard helped himself liberally and -spread the child's piece with the soft, sweet, half-creamy compound. - -"You must eat a little of the meat, Rene. You must grow rosy and stout -in this new home." - -The men ate heartily enough. Everything was strange to her, though for -that matter everything had been strange since leaving the old chteau. -The post-chaise, the day in Paris, the long journey across the ocean, -the city of Quebec with its various peoples, and the other journey -through lakes and over portages. Detroit, where they had stayed two days -and that had appeared beautiful to her; the little towns, the sail down -the Illinois River to the greater one that seemed to swallow it up. - -Marie Loubet had said her rich grandfather in the new country had sent -for her, and that her father did not care for her since his sons were -born. Indeed, he scarcely gave her a thought until it occurred to him -that her American-French grandfather was well able to provide for her. -Her mother's dot had been spent long ago. He wanted to sell the old -chteau and its many acres of ground, for court living was high, and the -trend of that time was extravagance. - -"You had better place your daughter in a convent," said the amiable -stepmother, who had never seen the little girl but twice. "The boys will -be all we can care for. I hope heaven will not send me any daughters. -They must either have a large dot or striking beauty. And I am sure this -girl of yours will not grow up into a beauty." - -Yet her mother had been beautiful the Count remembered. And he smiled -when he thought of the dower he had exacted from the old trader. No -doubt there was plenty of money still, and this grandchild had the best -right to it. She might like it better than convent life. - -Marie's lover had emigrated two years before, and had sent her money to -pay her passage. Why, it was almost a miraculous opening. So Rene de -Longueville was bundled off to the new country. - -And now she sat here, taking furtive glances at her grandfather, who did -not want her. No one in her short life had been absolutely cross to her, -and she was quite used to the sense of not being wanted until she met -Gaspard Denys. Of the relationships of life she knew but little; yet her -childish heart had gone out with great fervor to him when he said, "I -loved your mother. I ought to have married her; then you would have been -my little girl." - -"Why did you not?" she asked gravely. Then with sweet seriousness, "I -should like to be your little girl." - -"You shall be." He pressed her to his heart, and kissed down amid the -silken curls. - -So now she did not mind her grandfather's objection to her; she knew -with a child's intuition he did not want her. But she could, she _did_, -belong to Uncle Gaspard, and so she was safe. A better loved child might -have been crushed by the knowledge, but she was always solacing herself -with the next thing. This time it was the first, the very first thing, -and her little heart gave a beat of joy. - -Yet she was growing tired and sleepy, child fashion. The two men were -talking about the fur trade, the pelts that had come in, the Indians and -hunters that were loitering about. It had been a long day to her, and -the room was warm. The small head drooped lower with a nod. - -There was a pile of dressed skins one side of the room, soft and silken, -Freneau's own curing. - -Gaspard paused suddenly, glanced at her, then rose and took her in his -arms and laid her down on them tenderly. She did not stir, only the rosy -lips parted as with a half smile. - -"Yes, tell me what to do with her," Antoine exclaimed, as if that had -been the gist of the conversation. "You see I have no one to keep house; -then I am out hunting, going up and down the river, working my farm. I -couldn't be bothered with womankind. I can cook and keep house and wash -even. I like living alone. I could send her to New Orleans," raising his -eyes furtively. - -"You will do nothing of the kind," said the other peremptorily. "Antoine -Freneau, you owe me this child. You know I was in love with the mother." - -"You were a mere boy," retorted the old man disdainfully. - -"I was man enough to love her then and always. I have never put any one -in her place. And the last time we walked together over yonder by the -pond, I told her I was going up north to make money for her, and that in -a year I should come back. I was twenty, she just sixteen. I can see her -now; I can hear her voice in the unformed melody of the child's. We made -no especial promise, but we both knew. I meant to ask your consent when -I came back. Seven months afterward, on my return, I found you had -whisked her off and married her to the Count, who, after all, cared so -little for her that her child is nothing to him. I don't know what lies -you told her, but I know she would never have given me up without some -persuasion near to force." - -The old man knew. It had been a lie. He kept out of Gaspard's way for -the next two years, and it was well for him. - -"There was no force," he returned gruffly. "Do you not suppose a girl -can see? He was a fine fellow and loved her, and she was ready to go -with him. No one dragged her to church. Well, the priest would have had -something to say. They are not wild Indians at Quebec, and know how to -treat a woman." - -Gaspard had never forced more than this out of him. But he was sure some -trickery had won the day and duped them both. - -"Well, what have you gained?" mockingly. "You might have kept your -daughter here and had grandchildren growing up about you, instead of -living like a lonely old hermit." - -"The life suits me well enough," in a gruff tone. - -"Then give me the child that should have been mine. You don't want her." - -"What will you do with her?" - -"Have a home some day and put her in it." - -"Bah! And you are off months at a time!" - -"There would be some one to look after her. I shall not lead this roving -life forever. If she were less like her mother you might keep her, since -you were so won by her father. And I am not a poor man, Antoine -Freneau." - -"She is such a child." Did Gaspard mean that some day he might want to -marry her? - -"That is what I want. Oh, you don't know----" - -He paused abruptly. Antoine could never understand the longing that had -grown upon him through these weeks to possess the child, to play at -fatherhood. - -"No, I shall not be likely to marry," almost as if he had suspected what -was in Antoine's pause, but he did not. "And I've envied the fathers of -children. They had something to work for, to hope for. And now I say I -want Rene because she is such a child. I wish she could stay like this -just five years; then I'd be willing to have her grow up. But I know -you, Antoine Freneau, and you won't take half care of her; you couldn't -love her, it isn't in you. But you shall not crowd her out of love." - -"You talk like a fool, Gaspard Denys! But if you want the child--I am an -old man, and I tell you frankly that I don't know what to do with her. I -would have to change my whole life." - -"And I would be glad to change mine for such a cause. You must promise -not to interfere in any way. We will have some writings drawn up and -signed before the priest." - -Antoine gave a yawn. "To-morrow, or any time you like. What are you -going to do now? It is late. If you will take a shakedown in the other -room--you see, I'm not prepared for visitors." - -"Yes; I have slept in worse places. The child has a box of clothes at -St. Charles. Hers will have to do for to-night." - -He straightened out the impromptu bed and fixed the child more -comfortably. He was tired and sleepy himself. Antoine lighted a bit of -wick drawn through a piece of tin floating in a bowl of oily grease and -took it in the storeroom, where both men soon arranged a sort of bunk. - -"Good-night," said Antoine, and shut the door. - -But he did not go to bed. The fire had mostly burned out, and now the -torch dropped down and the room was full of shadows. He sat awhile on -the edge of the bed and made it creak; then he rose and opened the -shutter very softly, creeping out. Even then he listened suspiciously. -Turning, he ran swiftly down to the river's edge, through the wet sedge -of last year's grass. Then he gave a low whistle. - -Some one answered with an oath. "We were just going away," in a hissing -French voice. "What the devil kept you so?" - -"I could not get away. There was a fellow," and Antoine prefaced the -excuse with an oath. "He wouldn't go; I had to fix a bunk for him." - -"Antoine Freneau, if you betray us--" in a threatening tone. - -"Ah, bah! Would I kill the goose that lays golden eggs? Come, hurry." - -They unloaded some cases from the piroque and dumped them on the soft -ground. - -"Now, carry them yourself. What! No barrow? You are a fool! But we must -be off up the river." - -There was considerable smuggling in spite of the watchfulness of the -authorities. Duties were levied on so many things, and some--many, -indeed--closely under government supervision. - -Antoine Freneau tugged and swore. The cases of brandy were not light. He -went back and forth, every time peering in the window and listening; but -all was quiet. The cases he hid among the trees. He had drawn some tree -branches, ostensibly for firewood, and covered the cases with this brush -until he could dispose of them more securely. - -Once, several years before, his house had been thoroughly ransacked in -his absence. He knew he was suspected of unlawful dealings, and he had a -dim misgiving that Gaspard had one end of the secret. He had more than -once been very overbearing. - -He came in wet and tired, and, disrobing himself, crawled into bed. Fine -work, indeed, it would be to have a housekeeper and a prying child! He -laughed to think Gaspard fancied that he would be unwilling to give her -up. - -Still he had hated Count de Longueville that he should have extorted so -much dowry. But then it seemed a great thing to have titled grandsons -and a daughter with the entre of palaces, although he would never have -gone to witness her state and consequence. - -Every year money had grown dearer and dearer to him, though, miser like, -he made no spread, never bragged, but pleaded poverty when he paid -church dues at Christmas and Easter. - - - - -CHAPTER II - -OLD ST. LOUIS - - -Soon after daylight the strong west wind drove away the rain and clouds. -The air was soft and balmy, full of the indescribable odors of spring. -Birds began their pipings; robin and thrush and meadow-larks and -wood-pigeons went circling about on glistening wings. - -Antoine found himself some dry clothes and kindled his fire. He would -bake a few corn cakes; they had demolished the loaf of bread last night. -There was a flitch of dried bacon and some eggs. - -The door opened, and Gaspard wished his host good-morning. Rene was -still asleep. - -There was a little rivulet that emptied in the mill pond, and near the -house Freneau had hollowed out quite a basin. Gaspard went down here for -his morning ablutions. A tall, well-developed man, just turned of thirty -with a strong, decisive face, clear blue eyes that could flash like -steel in a moment of indignation, yet in the main were rather humorous; -chestnut hair, closely cropped, and a beard trimmed in the same fashion. -He soused his head now in the miniature basin and shook it like a water -dog. Then he drew in long breaths of the divine morning air, and glanced -about with a sort of worship in his heart, took a few steps this way and -that. Antoine watched him with bated breath, he was so near the secret. - -But Denys had heard nothing in the night. He was tired and had slept -soundly. Suddenly he bethought himself of the little girl and went into -the house. Antoine was preparing breakfast. Rene was sitting up, -glancing round. She had been in so many strange places this did not -disturb her. - -She rose upright now, and stretched out her hands with a half-timid, -half-joyous smile. - -"Uncle Gaspard," she said, "where are we?" - -Old Antoine raised his head. The French was so pure, the voice had an -old reminder of the one back of her mother. - -"We are at St. Louis, child." - -"And where is the King?" - -"Oh, my little girl, back in France. There is no king here. And we are -not French any longer, but Spanish." - -"I am French." She said it proudly. - -"We keep our hearts and our language French. Some day there may be -another overturn. I do not see as it matters much. The Spanish are -pretty good to us." - -"Good! And with these cursed river laws!" grumbled Antoine. - -"If report says true, it can't interfere very much with you." - -"Report is a liar," the man flung out savagely. - -Gaspard Denys laughed. - -After a moment he said, "Isn't there a towel or a cloth of some kind? I -dried myself in the air." - -"I told you I had not any accommodations for womenkind. You should have -left her at the convent. Farther back, it is De Longueville's business -to care for her." - -"But you see he did not. You and he are her only blood kin, and you both -cast her off. It is well she has found a friend." - -"The convent and the Sisters would have been better." - -"Come, man, some sort of a towel," exclaimed Denys imperatively. - -Antoine rummaged in the old chest, and presently brought forth one. -Denys noted that it was soft and fine and not of home manufacture. Then -he led Rene out to the little basin and, dipping the towel in, washed -her face and hands. - -"Oh, how good it feels!" she cried delightedly. - -Gaspard had grown quite used to playing lady's maid. He took a comb out -of its case of Indian work that he carried about in his pocket, and -combed out the tumbled hair. She winced now and then at a bad tangle, -and laughed on the top of it. Then he bent over and kissed her on the -forehead. She caught his head in her small arms and pressed her soft -cheek against his caressingly. - -"I love you, Uncle Gaspard," she exclaimed. "But I don't love that old -man in there. Are you sure he is my grandfather? I couldn't live here. I -should run away and live with the birds and the squirrels." - -"And the Indians." - -"But that Light of the Moon was sweet and pretty." - -"Yes. I should like to have brought her with us for your maid." - -"Oh, that would have been nice!" She clapped her hands. "What is over -there?" nodding her head. - -"That is St. Louis--the fort, the palisades, the stockade to keep out the -Indians." - -"There are no Indians in France," she said retrospectively. - -"No. And I have wondered a little, Rene, if you would not rather be -back there." - -"And not have you?" She clung to his arm. - -He gave a little sigh. - -"Oh, are you not glad to have me? Does no one want me?" - -The pathos of the young voice pierced his heart. - -"Yes, I want you. I had no one to care for, no brothers or sisters or----" - -"Men have wives and children." There was a touch of almost regret in her -tone, as if she were sorry for him. - -"And you are my child. We will go in town to-day and find some one to -look after you. And there will be children to play with." - -"Oh, I shall be so glad. Little girls?" - -"Yes. I know ever so many." - -"I saw my little brothers in Paris as we came through. They were very -pretty--at least their clothes were. And papa's wife--well, I think the -Queen couldn't have had any finer gown. They were just going to the -palace, and papa kissed me farewell. It was very dreary at the old -chteau. And when the wind blew through the great trees it seemed like -people crying. Old Pierre used to count his beads." - -What a strange, dreary life the little girl had had! It should all be -better now. The child of the woman he had loved! - -"If grandfather is rich, as Marie said, why does he live that way?" - -She made a motion toward the house. - -"No one knows whether he is rich or not. He trades a little with the -Indians and the boats going up and down the river." - -The shrill summons to breakfast reached them. - -They went in, the child holding tightly to Gaspard's hand. It seemed as -if her grandfather looked more forbidding now than he had last night. He -was both sulky and surly, but the viands were appetizing, and this -morning Rene felt hungry. Gaspard was glad to see her eat. The old man -still eyed her furtively. - -"Well?" he interrogated, as they rose from the table, looking meaningly -at Gaspard. - -"We are going in the town, the child and I," Gaspard replied briefly. - -Antoine nodded. - -Oh, what a morning it was! The air seemed fairly drenched with the new -growth of everything; the tints were indescribable. Some shrubs and -flowers had begun to bloom. Rene had seen so much that was cold and -bleak, trees leafless and apparently lifeless amid the almost black -green of hemlocks and firs. Streams and pools frozen over, and a -coldness that seemed to penetrate one's very soul. At Detroit it had -softened a little and all along the journey since then were heralds of -warmth and beauty. The child, too, expanded in it, and the changes in -her face interested Gaspard intently. He was a great lover of nature -himself. - -Early St. Louis was all astir. From the bustle, the sound of voices, the -gesticulation, and running to and fro, it appeared as if there might be -thousands of people instead of six or seven hundred. Everything looked -merry, everybody was busy. There was a line of boats coming, others -already at the primitive landings, Indians and trappers in picturesque -attire, gay feathers and red sashes; fringes down the sides of their -long leggings and the top of their moccasins. Traders were there, too, -sturdy brown-faced Frenchmen, many of whom had taken a tour or two up in -the North Country themselves, and had the weather-beaten look that comes -of much living out of doors. Children ran about, black-eyed, -rosy-cheeked, shrill of voice. Small Indians, with their grave faces and -straight black hair, and here and there a squaw with her papoose -strapped to her back. - -Gaspard Denys paused a moment to study them. He really had an artist's -soul; these pictures always appealed to him. - -They came in the old Rue Royale, skirting the river a short distance, -then turned up to the Rue d'Eglise. Here was a low stone house, rather -squat, the roof not having a high peak. A wide garden space, with fruit -trees and young vegetables, some just peeping up from brown beds and a -great space in front where grass might have grown if little feet had not -trodden it so persistently. A broad porch had a straw-thatched roof, and -here already a young girl sat spinning, while several children were -playing about. - -"Lisa! Lisa!" called the girl, rising. "Ah, Monsieur Denys, we are very -glad to see you. You have been absent a long while. You missed the -merry-making and--and we missed you," blushing. - -A pretty girl, with dark eyes and hair done up in a great coil of -braids; soft peachy skin with a dainty bloom on the cheek and a dimple -in the broad chin. Her lips had the redness of a ripe red cherry that is -so clear you almost think it filled with wine. - -"And I am glad to see you, Barbe," taking her outstretched hand. "Ought -I to say 'ma'm'selle' now?" glancing her all over, from the braids done -up to certain indications in the attire of womanhood. - -She blushed and laughed. "Oh, I hope I have not grown as much as that. I -should like always to be Barbe to you." - -"But some day you may be married. Then you will be madame to everybody." - -"Lise thinks I have too good a home to give up lightly. I am very -happy." - -Madame Renaud came out of the house. She was taller and larger than her -sister, but with the same dark eyes and hair. Her sleeves were rolled up -above her elbows and showed a plump, pretty arm; her wide, homespun -apron nearly covered her. - -"Oh, Gaspard--M'sieu Denys! You are such a stranger and we have missed -you much, much," with an emphasis. "We were not sure but some Quebec -belle would capture you and keep you there. You will have warm welcomes. -Whose is the child?" - -The other children had stopped their play and were edging nearer Rene, -who in turn shrank against Denys. - -"I have come to talk about the child. May I not come in? Are you busy?" - -"With bread and cakes. We are not so poorly off if we have a bad name," -smiling with amusement. "Here is a chair, and a stool for the little -one. She looks pale. Is she not well?" - -"She has had a long journey. First across the ocean, then from Quebec in -not the pleasantest of weather for such a tramp. But she has not been -ill a day." - -Denys placed his arm over the child's shoulder, and she leaned her arms -on his knee. - -Madame Renaud raised her eyebrows a trifle. - -"You remember the daughter of Antoine Freneau?" - -"Yes--a little. He took her to Canada and married her to some great -person and she died in France. Poor thing! I wonder if she was happy?" - -She, too, knew of the gossip that Denys had been very much in love with -this girl, and she stole a little furtive glance; but the man's face was -not so ready with confessions. Much hard experience had settled the -lines. - -"Then the Count married again. He is in the King's service at the -palace. They sent the child over to her grandfather. I went to Canada -for her." - -"And this is Rene Freneau's child. Poor thing!" - -She glanced intently at the little girl, who flushed and cast down her -eyes. Why was she always a poor thing? - -"And that is no home for her." - -"I should think not! Home, indeed, in that old cabin, where men meet to -carouse, and strange stories are told," said madame decisively. - -"I am to be her guardian and look after her. I think I shall settle -down. I have tramped about enough to satisfy myself for one while. I -shall go into trading, and have some one keep a house for me and take -care of the child. Meanwhile I must persuade some one to give her -shelter and oversight." - -"Yes, yes, m'sieu," encouragingly. - -"And so I have come to you," looking up, with a bright laugh. - -Gaspard Denys very often obtained just what he wanted without much -argument. Perhaps it was not so much his way as his good judgment of -others. - -"And so I have come to you," he repeated. "If you will take her in a -little while, I think she will enjoy being with children. She has had a -lonely life thus far." - -"Poor thing! Poor little girl, to lose her mother so soon! And you think -old Antoine will make no trouble?" - -"Oh, no, no! He would not know what to do with her." - -Madame Renaud laughed derisively, and gave a nod, throwing her head -back, which displayed her pretty throat. - -"So I shall look after her. He will never interfere. It will not be for -long. And how shall I appear putting on fatherly airs?" in a tone of -amusement. - -"Louis is but two and thirty, and you----" - -"Have just turned thirty," subjoined Gaspard. - -"And little Louis is twelve, stout and sturdy and learning to figure as -well as read under the good pre. Then there are three others, and papa -is as proud of them as was ever any hen with her chicks. I never heard -that Chanticleer was a pattern of fatherly devotion." - -They both laughed at that. - -"And, Gaspard, you should have settled upon some nice girl at the balls. -You have been chosen king times enough." - -He flushed a trifle. "I have been quite a roamer in strange places, and -at first had a fancy for a life of adventure. But, as I said, I think of -settling down now. And if you will keep the little girl for me until I -get a home----" - -"And you want a good housemaid. Gaspard, Mre Lunde has lost her son. -True, he was a great burden and care, and she has spent most of her -little fortune upon him. I think she would be glad----" - -"The very person. Thank you a thousand times, Madame Renaud. I should -want some one settled in her ways, content to stay at home, and with a -tender heart. Yes, Mre Lunde will be the very one. - -"She was going to the pre's; then his niece came from Michilimackinac. -They had bad work at the Mission with the Indians, and she just escaped -with her life and her little boy." - -"Yes; I will see her. It is advised that you get the cage before you -find the bird; but the bird may be captured elsewhere if you wait too -long. The child's box comes in from St. Charles; they would not stir a -step farther last night. I must go and look after it. Then I can send it -here? And Louis will not kick it out of doors when he comes?" smiling -humorously. - -"He will be liker to keep the little one for good and all and let you -whistle," she retorted merrily. - -"Thank you a hundred times until you are better paid. And now I must be -going. I expect the town will almost look strange." - -"And plain after gay Quebec; and Detroit, they say, has some grand -people in it. But, bah, they are English!" with a curl of the lip. - -He rose now. Madame Renaud had not been idle, but had rolled out dough -fairly brown with spices and cut it in little cakes of various shapes, -filling up some baking sheets of tin. - -"You will leave the child? Rene--what is her name? It has slipped my -mind." - -"Rene de Longueville." - -The child clung to his hand. "I want to go with you," she said in a tone -of entreaty. - -"Yes, and see St. Louis? He is her king or was until she touched this -Spanish soil." - -"The Spaniards have been very good to us. But we all hope to go back -again some day. Rene, will you not stay and play with the children? -There is Sophie, about your age or a little older, and Elise----" - -"No," she returned with a long breath; "I want Uncle Gaspard." - -"Adopted already? Well, you will bring her in to dinner?" with a cordial -intonation. - -"If not, to supper." - -"You will tire her to death dragging her around." - -"Oh, heaven forefend," in mock fear. - -He paused a moment or two and glanced at Rene, half questioningly, but -she still clung to him. - -They took their way along the street, but from every corner they had a -glimpse of the river, now flowing lazily along. The French seemed to -have a fancy for building their towns on the margin of a river. Partly, -perhaps, from fear of the Indians, but quite as much from innate -sociability, as they preferred compactness, and did not branch out into -farms until later on. But many of these squares had not more than three -or four houses; some, indeed, only one, the rest devoted to a garden. - -Here was the market, but there were not many customers this morning, -though the stands were attractively arranged. And beyond was the old -Laclede mansion. He it was who had laid out the town and named its -streets. On the main street was his large store, but it was then the end -of Rue Royale. He had welcomed the emigration from Fort Chartres when -the English had taken possession, and set a band of workmen building log -houses for them. His own house was quite roomy and imposing. - -Then they went down to the levee, which presented a busy and picturesque -sight. Boats were being unloaded of bales of furs and articles of -merchandise. Indians with blankets around them or with really gay -trappings; _coureur de bois_; Frenchmen, both jolly and stern, -chaffering, buying, sending piles of skins away on barrows, paying for -them in various kinds of wares, arms, ammunition, beads and trinkets, -though these were mostly taken by the squaws. - -Denys found his parcels and the box belonging to the child, and -responded to the cordial greetings. - -"Here, Noyan," he called to a man who had just trundled his barrow down -and who paused to make an awkward salutation. He had a blue cotton -kerchief tied round his head, buckskin trousers, and a sort of blouse -coat made of coarse woollen stuff, belted in loosely; but it held a -pouch containing tobacco and his knife, and a small hatchet was -suspended from it. - -"M'sieu Denys! One has not seen you for an age! Were you up to the -north? It is a good sight. And have you been making a fortune?" - -The wide, smiling mouth showed white, even teeth. - -"Not up in the fur regions. I took Canada this time." - -"Then thou hast lots of treasures that will set the dames and the maids -crazy with longing. They are gay people in those old towns, and the -state they keep is something like a court, I hear. Have you brought home -Madame Denys? Is it not high time?" - -"Past time," returning the laugh. "But our good Pierre Laclede is -content to remain a bachelor, and why not I?" - -"I am afraid thou art hard to suit. Surely we have pretty maids here; -and at New Orleans it is said they make a man lose his head if they do -but smile on him. A dangerous place that!" and he laughed merrily. - -"Are you busy?" - -"Yes and no. I am to look after M. Maxent's boat load, but it will not -be in until noon. So, if I can catch a job I am ready." - -"Then you are the man for me. Come. They have piled up the freight here -on the wharf. I am a lucky fellow to meet you. I feel quite strange -after my long absence. I suppose the old storehouse has not burned down? -It could not well be robbed," and Monsieur Denys laughed with gay -indifference. - -"When a man has only the coat on his back he need not be afraid of -thieves." - -"Unless he fall among Indians." - -"Ah, bah! yes," with a comical shrug. "And sometimes they take his -skin." - -There were bales strapped up, with thongs of hide over the coarse -covering; some sacks made of hide; several boxes bound about with bands -of iron. Noyan looked them over and considered. - -"I must go twice, M'sieu Denys," looking askance as if his employer -might object. - -"Very well. This box is to go to Madame Renaud's." - -The man nodded, and began to pile on the goods, fastening them with some -stout straps. - -"Do you go, too?" - -"Oh, yes. Here, Jaques, sit on this box and guard these two bundles, and -earn a little more than your salt." - -A shock-headed boy, with a broad, stupid face, had been looking on -indifferently, and now he dropped on the box like a weight of lead, with -a grunt that meant assent and a grin that betokened satisfaction. - -"We must retrace our steps," said Denys to the little girl. "But it is -not far." - -They passed the market again. They turned into the Rue de Rive, just -beyond the Rue Royale. A building of rough stone, with a heavy doorway -that looked as if it had been deserted a long while, which was true -enough. A broad bar had fastened it securely, and the great lock might -have guarded the treasures of Niebelungs. - -Denys unlocked it with some difficulty, threw open the door and -unfastened the shutter. - -"Whew! What a musty old hole! It must be cleaned up. I will attend to -that to-morrow. Dump the things in here, and then go for the others." - -On the western end was an addition of hewn logs, with big posts set in -the corners. Denys marched around and surveyed it. There was a space of -neglected ground, with two or three fine trees and a huddle of -grape-vines fallen to the ground. It did not look altogether inviting. -But just beyond was the Rue de la Tour that led straight out to the old -fort, and only a step farther was the church and the priest's house. -Then, it would not be very far from the Renauds. - -Rene was watching him as he peered about. - -"It looks a dull place for a little girl!" he exclaimed. - -"Are you going to live here?" with some curiosity. - -"Oh, yes. But it will be fixed up. And--a flower garden," hesitatingly. - -"I don't mind if you are here," and she slipped her hand in his with a -gesture of possession. - -"And we will have a nice old woman to get our meals and make our beds -and keep the house tidy. Oh, it will be all right when it is cleared up. -And you will soon know some little girls. And we can take walks around." - -She started suddenly. A bird up in the tree poured forth a torrent of -melody. Her eyes grew luminous, her lips quivered, her pale cheeks -flushed. - -"Oh, birds!" she cried. "I used to talk to them at the chteau and feed -them with crumbs. They would come to my hand." - -"You shall tame them here. Oh, we will have nice times together," and -now he pressed her hand. - -The sweetness of her little face went to his heart. Yes, she was like -her mother. - -Noyan came with the next load, threw off the few parcels, and took his -way to Madame Renaud's. Denys locked his door again and they turned -away. - -"Now we will go and find Mre Lunde. It is up somewhere by the fort. -That will be quite a landmark for you. And the great Indian chief, -Pontiac, that I told you about at Detroit, lies buried there." - -"I do not think I like Indians," she returned gravely. "Only the babies -are so odd, and the little children. It is a pity they should grow up so -cruel." - -"We have kept very good friends with them thus far." - -They had begun to build the new palisades. Yes, here was the fort, and -the Guion house, and the grave that she did not care to linger over. -Then they turned into the street of the Barns, _La rue des Granges_, and -soon found Mre Lunde, who was cooking a savory pottage, and welcomed -Gaspard Denys warmly. - -A little old Frenchwoman such as artists love to paint. She was round in -the shoulders, made so by much stooping over her son and her work in the -tiny garden, where she raised much of her living. She was wrinkled, but -her eyes were bright, and her cheeks still had a color in them. She wore -the coif, her best one being white, but this a sort of faded plaid. Her -skirt just came to her ankles, and to-day she had on sabots, that made a -little clatter as she stepped round. Over her shoulders was pinned a -small gray kerchief. She looked so cheerful and tidy, so honest and -kindly, that she went to one's heart at once. - -M'sieu must hear about her son, poor lad--all she had to live for. Yet, -perhaps, it was well the Good Father took him before she went. And now -she worked a little for the neighbors. Everybody was kind to her. And -would they not partake of her simple meal? It was not much, to be sure, -but it would make her very happy. - -Denys admitted that he was hungry, and Rene's eyes had an assenting -light in them. Over the meal he made his proposal, which Mre Lunde -accepted with tears in her eyes. - -"God is good," she said, crossing herself devoutly. "Father Meurin said -I must have faith, and something would come. Oh, how can I thank you! -Yes, I will gladly keep your house, and care for the child, and strive -to please you every way. Oh, it is, indeed, the best of fortune to -happen to me, when life had begun to look lone and drear." - -"To-morrow, then, we will begin to clear up." - -"Yes; to-morrow," she replied cheerfully. - - - - -CHAPTER III - -A NEW HOME - - -In after years, when Rene de Longueville looked back at what seemed the -real beginning of her life, everything about the old town was enveloped -in a curious glamour. For it was all abloom. Such flowers, such great -trees in pink and white, such fragrance everywhere, and everybody moving -to and fro, as if impelled by some strange power. What were they all -doing? And the children were so merry. To a little girl who had been -mewed up in an old chteau, rather gloomy at that, and no one about but -elderly servants, the transition was mysterious, quite beyond the -child's depth. But she felt the new life in every limb, in every nerve, -and she was full of joy. - -The streets of the old town, if not wide, were comparatively straight; -those running along the river the longest, those stretching up to the -fort only a few squares. Nearly every homestead had its separate lot or -garden, enclosed by some sort of rude fence. Outside were the fields, -cultivated largely in common; woodlands and an immense prairie -stretching out to the northwest. Beside the fort were several towers in -which ammunition was stored, although the Spanish government had a great -fancy for building these. - -Gaspard Denys was very busy cleaning up his place and making some -alterations. In his heart he began to feel quite like a family man. Most -of the stores were kept in the residences, except those down on the -levee. The people seldom suffered from depredations. Their treatment of -the Indians was uniformly honorable, and they kept them as much as -possible from the use of ardent spirits. The slaves were happy in their -lot. Indeed, a writer in early eighteen hundred speaks of the town as -arcadian in its simplicity and kindliness to its dependents. Women never -worked in the fields, and much of the housework was done by the slaves -and Indian women. Holidays were frequent, in which all joined. In the -summer, out-of-doors sports and dances often took place, very much like -modern picnics, at which one frequently saw parties of Indians. There -were no hostelries; but if a stranger came in town he was sheltered and -treated to the best. Hospitality was considered one of the first duties. - -There was one large room in the log part of the house, but Denys -resolved to build another. His little girl should have a place of her -very own, and from time to time he would find adornments for it. Here -she should grow to womanhood. Antoine Freneau was not a young man when -he had married; and though people who did not meet with accidents lived -to a good old age, he was old already. He always pleaded poverty, though -he did considerable dickering in the way of trade, and it was surmised -that his business dealings would not stand honest scrutiny, and his -unsocial habits did not endear him to the joyous community. Still, -whatever he had left would come to Rene. He, Denys, would make sure of -that. - -Rene soon became domesticated with the Renauds. Elise and Sophie played -about most of the time, and were jolly, laughing little girls. Twice a -week they went to the house of the good Father Lemoine, who taught them -to read and write and gave them some knowledge of mathematics, which was -quite necessary in trading. Twice a week the boys went, and on Saturday -they repeated the catechism orally. - -Denys called in a little help; but every man was his own builder, with -some cordial neighborly assistance. So they raised the posts and -studding, and fastened the cross ties--round on the outside, the smooth -part, or middle, going on the inside. The interstices were filled with -mortar made of tough grass and clay that hardened easily. Sometimes this -was plastered on the inside, but oftener blankets were hung, which gave -a bright and cheerful appearance, and warmth in winter. - -The stone part was cleared up and put in order. It had a big chimney, -part of which was in the adjoining room. Denys spread about quantities -of sweet grass to neutralize the musty smell; though the clear, -beautiful air, with its mingled perfumes, was doing that. On the shelves -he spread some of his wares, implements of different sorts were ranged -about the walls. Near the door was a counter; back of it two iron-bound -chests, very much battered, that he had bought with the place and the -small store of goods from the family of the dead owner. These held his -choicest treasures, many of which he had brought from Quebec, which were -to please the ladies. - -The voyages up and down the river were often tedious, and sometimes the -traders were attacked by river pirates, who hid in caves along the banks -and drew their boats up out of sight when not needed. Peltries and lead -went down to New Orleans, wheat and corn and imported articles were -returned. There were some troublesome restrictions, and about as much -came overland from Detroit. - -If Rene made friends with the Renaud household, they had no power to -win her from Uncle Gaspard. They had insisted on his accepting their -hospitality, though he devoted most of his time to the work he was -hurrying forward. Now and then he came just at dusk and spent the night, -but was always off early in the morning before Rene was up. - -She often ran up the street, sometimes reaching the house before he -started. The children were ready enough to go with her, but she liked -best to be alone. She had a curious, exclusive feeling about him, young -as she was. - -"But he is not your true uncle," declared Elise, one day when she had -laid her claim rather strenuously. "Mamma said so. Your uncles have to -be real relations." - -"But he said when we were in Quebec that he _was_ my uncle--that I was to -be his little girl," was the defiant rejoinder. - -"And if your gran'pre had not agreed?" - -"I would never have stayed there. It makes me shiver now. I would--yes, I -would have run away." - -"He is not like our gran'pre, who is a lovely old man, living up by the -Government House. And gran'mre gives us delightful little cakes when we -go there. And there are uncles and aunts, real ones. Barbe is our aunt." - -Rene's small heart swelled with pride and a sense of desolation. She -had gathered already that Grandpapa Freneau was not at all respected; -and there were moments when she felt the solitariness of her life--the -impression that she had in some sense been cast off. - -"But my father is at the palace of the King of France. He came to see me -on an elegant horse, and his clothes were splendid. And there are two -little brothers. Oh, such fine people as there are in Paris." - -That extinguished the little girls. It was true that now the French had -gotten over their soreness about the transfer. They never meddled with -politics, but they still loved the old flag. The Spanish governors had -been judicious men thus far. - -So that night Rene slipped out from the supper table and sped like a -little sprite along the Rue Royale, and then up the Rue de Rive. The -moon was coming over the river with a pale light, as if she was not -quite ready for full burning. She heard the sounds of hammering, and -rushed in the open doorway. - -"Well, little one! Your eyes are so bright that if you were an Indian -girl I should call you Evening Star." - -"I wanted to see you so," in a breathless fashion. - -"What has happened?" - -"Why, nothing. Only the day seemed so long." - -"You went to the father's?" - -"Oh, yes," rather indifferently. - -"Why didn't you run over then? You might have taken supper with me." - -"Because--there were Elise and Sophie." - -"But there was supper enough to go round. We had some fine broiled fish. -Mre Lunde is an excellent cook." - -"Oh, when can I come to stay?" Her tone was full of entreaty, and her -eyes soft with emotion. - -"But--you won't have any little girls to play with." - -"I don't want any one but you." - -He had paused from his work, and now she sprang to him and encircled him -as far as she could with her small arms. - -"You are not homesick?" It would be strange, indeed, since she had never -had a true home. - -"I don't know. That," giving her head a turn, "is not my real home." - -"Oh, no. But they have all been good to you. Ma'm'selle Barbe is very -fond of you." - -"Oh, everybody is good and kind. Even Louis, though he teases. And Pre -Renaud. But not one of them is you--_you_." - -"My little girl!" He stooped over and hugged her, kissed her fondly. The -child's love was so innocent, so sincere, that it brought again the -hopes of youth. - -"And you will always keep me--always?" There was a catch in her breath -like a sob. - -"Why, yes. What has any one said to you?" with a slight touch of -indignation. - -"Sophie said you were not my own uncle. What would make you so? Can you -never be?" - -There was a pathos in her tone that touched him to the heart, even as he -smiled at her childish ignorance, and was wild to have the past undone. - -"My dear, you can hardly understand. I must have been your mother's -brother." - -"Oh, then you would have belonged to that hateful old man!" and she gave -her foot a quick stamp. "No, I should not want you to." - -He laughed softly. He would have been glad enough to belong to the -hateful old man years ago, and belong to the child as well. - -"It doesn't matter, little one," he said tenderly. "I shall be your -uncle all my life long. Don't bother your head about relationships. -Come, see your room. It will soon be dry, and then you shall take -possession." - -It had been whitewashed, and the puncheon floor--laid in most houses, it -being difficult to get flat boards--stained a pretty reddish color. The -window had a curtain hung to it, some of the Canadian stuff. One corner -had been partitioned off for a closet. There was a box with a curtain -tacked around it, and a white cover over it, to do duty as a -dressing-table. There were two rustic chairs, and some pretty Indian -basket-like pouches had been hung around. - -"Oh, oh!" she cried in delight. "Why, it is as pretty as Ma'm'selle -Barbe's--almost as pretty," correcting herself. "And can I not come at -once?" - -"There must be a bed for you to sleep on, though we might sling a -hammock." - -"And Mre Lunde?" - -"Come through and see." - -In one corner of this, which was the ordinary living room, was a sort of -pallet, a long box with a cover, in which Mre Lunde kept her own -belongings, with a mattress on the top, spread over with a blanket, -answering for a seat as well. She had despoiled her little cottage, for -Gaspard Denys had said, "It is a home for all the rest of your life if -you can be content," and she had called down the blessings of the good -God upon him. So, here were shelves with her dishes, some that her -mother had brought over to New Orleans as a bride; china and pewter, and -coarse earthenware acquired since, and queer Indian jars, and baskets -stiffened with a kind of clay that hardened in the heating. - -"Welcome, little one," she exclaimed cheerfully. "The good uncle gets -ready the little nest for thee. And soon we shall be a family indeed." - -She lighted a torch and stood it in the corner, and smiled upon Rene. - -"Oh, I shall be so glad to come!" cried the child joyfully. "And my room -is so pretty." - -She looked with eager eyes from one to the other. - -"And the garden is begun. There are vines planted by ma'm'selle's -window. In a month one will not know the place. And it is near to the -church and the good father's house." - -"But I wouldn't mind if it was a desert, so long as you both were here," -she replied enthusiastically. - -"We must go back, little one. They will wonder about you. Just be -patient awhile." - -"And thou hast no cap," said Mre Lunde. - -"Oh, that does not matter; the night is warm. Adieu," taking the hard -hand in her soft one. Then she danced away and caught Gaspard's arm. - -"Let us walk about a little," she pleaded. "The moon is so beautiful." -If they went direct to the Renauds', he would sit on the gallery and -talk to Barbe. - -"Which way?" pausing, looking up and down. - -"Oh, toward the river. The moon makes it look like a silver road. And it -is never still except at night." - -That was true enough. Business ended at the old-fashioned supper time. -There was one little French tavern far up the Rue Royale, near the -Locust Street of to-day; but the conviviality of friends, which was -mostly social, took place at home, out on the wide porches, where cards -were played for amusement. The Indians had dispersed. A few people were -strolling about, and some flat boats were moored at the dock, almost -indistinguishable in the shade. The river wound about with a slow, soft -lapping, every little crest and wavelet throwing up a sparkling gem and -then sweeping it as quickly away. - -From here one could see out to both ends. The semi-circular gates -terminated at the river's edge, and at each a cannon was planted and -kept in readiness for use. Now and then there would be vague rumors -about the English on the opposite shore. The new stockade of logs and -clay surmounted by pickets was slowly replacing the worn-out one. - -Rene was fain to linger, with her childish prattle and touching -gestures of devotion. How the child loved him already! That a faint tint -of jealousy had been kindled would have amused him if he had suspected -it. - -When they turned back in the Rue Royale they met M. Renaud enjoying his -pipe. - -"Ah, truant!" he exclaimed; "they were beginning to feel anxious about -you. Barbe declared you might stay all night. Was it not true you had -threatened?" - -"They would not have me," she returned laughingly, her heart in a glow -over the thought that when she did stay permanently, there would be no -need of Uncle Gaspard going to the Renauds'. - -"Was that it?" rather gayly. "The girls will miss thee. They are very -fond of thee, Rene de Longueville." - -Then Rene's heart relented with the quick compunction of childhood. - -"M. Laclede's fleet of keel boats will be up shortly, I heard to-day. -The town must give him a hearty welcome. What a man he is! What energy -and forethought! A little more than twenty years and we have grown to -this, where there was nothing but a wild. Denys, there is a man for -you!" - -"Fort Chartres helped it along. I was but a boy when we came over. My -mother is buried there, and it almost broke my father's heart to leave -her." - -"Those hated English!" said Renaud, almost under his breath. "The -colonies have revolted, it is said. I should be glad to see them driven -out of the country." - -"Yes, I heard the talk at Quebec and more of it as I came down the -lakes. But the country is so big, why cannot each take a piece in -content? Do you ever think we may be driven out to the wilderness?" - -"And find the true road to India?" with a short laugh. "Strange stories -are told by some of the hunters of inaccessible mountains. And what is -beyond no one knows," shrugging his shoulders. - -No one knew whether the gold-fields of La Salle's wild dreams lay in -that direction or not. There were vague speculations. Parties had -started and never returned. The hardy pioneers turned their steps -northward for furs. And many who heard these wild dreams in their youth, -half a century later crossed the well-nigh inaccessible mountains and -found the gold. And before the century was much older ships were on -their way to the East of dream and fable. - -Barbe and Madame Renaud were out on the porch in the moonlight, and it -was very bright now. Denys would not stay, and soon said good-night to -them, going back to his work by a pine torch. - -Rene counted the days, and every one seemed longer. But at last the -joyful news came. - -"We shall run over often," declared Sophie, who had a fondness for the -little girl in spite of childish tiffs. - -Rene was busy enough placing her little store of articles about, -discovering new treasures, running to and fro, and visiting Mre Lunde, -who had a word of welcome every time she came near. - -"It will be a different house, petite," she said, with her kindly smile. - -The garden could not compare with the Renauds in the glory of its gay -flower-beds. Two slaves of a neighbor--they were often borrowed for a -trifle--were working at it. A swing had been put up for the little lady. - -But somehow, when the afternoon began to lengthen, when Uncle Gaspard -had gone up to the Government House on some business, and Mre Lunde was -in a sound doze over the stocking she was knitting, Rene felt strangely -solitary. She missed the gay chat of Madame Renaud and her sister and -the merriment of the children. There seemed none immediately about here. -She strolled around to the front of the store; the door was locked, and -it looked rather dreary. - -She was glad to-morrow was the day for the classes to meet. Why, it was -almost as lonesome as at the old chteau! - -That evening Uncle Gaspard brought out his flute, which filled her with -delight. The violin was the great musical instrument in St. Louis--the -favorite in all the French settlements. But the flute had such a tender -tone, such a mysterious softness, that it filled her with an -indescribable joy. And there was none of the dreadful tuning that rasped -her nerves and made her feel as if she must scream. - -Then, it was strange to sleep alone in the room when she had been with -Ma'm'selle Barbe and the two girls. They were versed in Indian -traditions, and some they told over were not pleasant bed-time visions. -But the comfort was that all these terrible things had happened in -Michigan, or a place away off, called New England; and Sophie did not -care what the Indians did to the English who had driven them out of the -settlements on the Illinois. So, why should she? She was still more of a -French girl, because she was born in France. - -But the world looked bright and cheery the next morning, and the -breakfast was delightful, sitting on the side toward Uncle Gaspard, and -having Mre Lunde opposite, with her gay coif and her red plaid kerchief -instead of the dull gray one. Her small, wrinkled face was a pleasant -one, though her eyes were faded, for her teeth were still white and -even, and her short upper lip frequently betrayed them. She poured the -coffee and passed the small cakes of bread, which were quite as good as -Madame Renaud's. - -The lines were not strictly drawn in those days between masters and -servants. And Mre Lunde had been her own mistress for so many years -that she possessed the quiet dignity of independence. - -Then Rene inspected her room afresh, ran out of doors and gathered a -few flowers, as she had seen Ma'm'selle Barbe do. She ventured to peep -into Uncle Gaspard's abode. - -"Come in, come in!" he cried cheerily. "There is no one to buy you up, -like a bale of merchandise." - -"But--you wouldn't sell me?" Her eyes had a laughing light in them, her -voice a make-believe entreaty, and altogether she looked enchanting. - -"Well, it would take a great deal of something to buy you. It would have -to be more valuable than money. I don't care so much for money myself." - -He put his arm about her and hugged her up close. He was sitting at a -massive old desk that he had bought with the place. It seemed crowded -full of various articles. - -"But you love me better than any one else?" - -"Any one else? Does that mean ever so many people love you? The Renaud -children, and Ma'm'selle Barbe, and--perhaps--your grandfather?" - -"Oh, you know I don't mean that!" Her cheek flushed with a dainty bit of -vexation. "The others _like_ me well enough, but you--how much do you -love me?" - -"The best of any one. Child, I do not think you will ever understand how -dear you are to me. There is no measurement for such love." - -That was the confession she wanted. Her face was radiant with delight--a -child's pleasure in the present satisfaction. - -She glanced around. "Do you mean to sell all these things?" she asked -wonderingly. - -"Oh, yes and many more. I ought to be down on the Rue Royale, where -people could find me easily. But I took a fancy to this old place, and -the man was in my debt; so he paid me with it. It would not be so -pleasant to live down there, on the lower side, by the levee. But I -shall stay here and wait till the people come to me. After all, for a -few years, if we get enough to eat and a little to wear, it will -suffice." - -"And what then?" with captivating eagerness. - -"Why, then--" he hesitated. Why should he think of this just now? He did -not want her grown up into a charming mademoiselle, even if she -resembled her mother still more strongly. - -"Yes; what then? Isn't it just the same afterward, or do people come to -a time when they stop eating?" and a gleam of mischief crossed her face. - -"That is at the end of life, child--sixty or eighty years." - -"No, I don't mean that time," with a shrug and a little curl of the lip. -"Maybe--after a few years----" - -"Well?" in amused inquiry. - -"You might go to New Orleans and take me. Ma'm'selle Barbe has been, and -she says it is so beautiful and gay." - -"And you have been half over the world. Ma'm'selle has not been to -Quebec nor Detroit." - -"Oh, that is true enough," laughingly. "Nor to France." - -Two customers paused at the door, and he said, "Run away, dear." So she -went obediently, watched Mre Lunde at her work awhile, then strolled -out to the garden spot, where two hired slaves were working. What should -make them so different from white people? Where was Africa and the -Guinea Coast that she heard spoken of at the Renauds'? Their lips were -so thick and red and their hair so woolly. But they seemed very merry, -though she could not understand a word they said; it was a queer patois. - -Uncle Gaspard came out presently. "Wouldn't you like to have a flower -garden?" he asked. - -"What is here?" She put out her small moccasined toe toward a rather -stiff-looking plot of green plants. - -"Oh, that is Mre Lunde's garden of herbs. All manner of things for -potage, and the making of sundry remedies in which she has great faith. -She will look after that." - -"And must I look after mine?" - -"I will come and help you." - -"Oh, then, I will have a garden!" she cried joyfully. - - - - -CHAPTER IV - -THE SOWING OF A THORN - - -It was only a short distance to the priest's house, where the classes -met. She ran off by herself. There was quite a throng of girls, though, -as with most of the early Western settlers, education was not esteemed -the one thing needful for girls. To make good wives was the greatest -attainment they could achieve. Still, Father Lemoine labored with -perseverance at the tillage of their brains on the two afternoons, and -the tillage of their souls on Saturday. - -After the two hours were over the restless children had a run up to the -Fort. The Guions there were Madame Renaud's relatives. There was a great -thicket of roses that covered the line of palings, and some ladies were -having refreshments under a sort of arbor, little cakes and glasses of -wine much diluted with water. - -"Oh, yes, come in," exclaimed Sophie as Rene hung back. "You have been -here before, you needn't feel strange." - -That was true enough. Then she had been Sophie's guest. Now she had a -curious hesitation. - -Elise was going around courtesying to the ladies, and answering their -inquiries. Sophie stooped to play with the cat. An old lady nearest -Rene handed her a plate of small spiced cakes. - -"You have gone to Monsieur Denys," she said in a soft tone. "He is--" -raising her eyes in inquiry. - -"He is my uncle." Rene made a graceful little courtesy as she said -this, and thanked the lady for the cake. - -"I suppose M. Denys means to settle down now," said another. "It is high -time. He ought to marry. There is nothing like a good wife." - -"That will come along," and another nodded with a mysterious but merry -smile. "That is why he is smartening up so. And he has brought some -elegant stuffs from Canada to dress her in when he gets her. Madame -Aubrey was in yesterday and bought of him a gown for Genevieve. He was -showing her some finery that would adorn a bride. I think we shall hear -before long." - -They all nodded and glanced sidewise from Elise to Sophie as if they -might have something to do with it. - -"I must go," exclaimed Rene, her face flushing. - -"No, wait, I am not ready," said Sophie. - -But Rene courtesied to them all and flashed through the rose-hung -entrance. She ran swiftly down the street, turned the corner to her own -home, and entered the gate. Mre Lunde sat at the doorway knitting. - -"Where is Uncle Gaspard?" she cried breathlessly. - -"In the shop chaffering. They have found him out, you see, and I hope -the good Father of all will send him prosperity," crossing herself -devoutly. - -Rene dropped down on the doorstep. Her child's heart was in a tumult. -Had not the house been planned for her, and the pretty room made -especially? Where would he put a wife? His small place in the corner of -the shop, hung about with curtains, was not fit, since the wife would be -Ma'm'selle Barbe, whose pretty white bed had fringed hangings that she -had learned to knot while she was in New Orleans. - -"Why do you sigh so, little one?" - -Rene could not contain her anxiety. - -"O ma mre, do you think Uncle Gaspard will marry?" she cried with -passionate vehemence. "Will he bring a wife here to live with us?" - -"What has put such a thing in thy head, child? Surely the good priest -would not venture to suggest that to thee!" - -"It was in the Guions' garden. I went there with the girls. And some one -said he had fixed the house for that, and they smiled and I knew who -they meant." - -She wiped some tears from her hot cheek. - -"Who was it?" the dame asked simply. - -"Who should it be but Ma'm'selle Barbe! Oh, I could guess who they -thought would come." - -"Ma'm'selle is a pretty girl and sweet tempered. She has a dot, too," -said the placid woman. "But then I think----" - -Rene burst into a passion of tears, and springing up stamped on the -ground. - -"She shall not come here!" she cried vehemently. "She shall not have -Uncle Gaspard! Oh, why did he go clear to Canada for me, why did he -bring me here?" - -"There was your gran'pre----" - -"But he doesn't want me. No one wants me!" - -"Chut! chut! little one. Do not get in such a passion. Surely a child -could not help it if it was to be so. But now that I think the matter -over, he said I must come, as there would be no one here to look after -you, and that your gran'pre's was no place for you. Truly, it is not, -if the whispers about him are well grounded. It is said the river -pirates gather there. And he goes away for weeks at a time. No, I do not -believe M. Denys means to marry." - -"Oh, truly? truly?" Rene flung her arms about the woman's neck. "Say -again you do not believe it." - -Every pulse was throbbing, and her breath came in tangled gasps. The -woman's tranquillity rasped her. - -"Nay, he would have planned different. And Ma'm'selle Barbe has young -admirers. Ah, you should have seen her at Christmas and Epiphany! She -was chosen Queen, she had one of the lucky beans. She would hardly want -so grave a man. All young things love pleasure, and it is right; care -comes fast enough." - -And now Rene remembered that a young man had spent evenings with his -violin, and they two had sat out on the gallery. But she could not -divest her mind of the curious sort of suspicion that Barbe cared very -much for Uncle Gaspard. - -"No, no," went on Mre Lunde. "People gossip. They often mate two who -have no such intention. Dry thy eyes, petite, and laugh again. There has -a robin built in the beech near thy window, and now I think there are -young ones in the nest. I heard them cry for food. And the father bird -goes singing about as if he wanted to tell the news. It is pleasanter -than thine." - -Rene smiled then. Yes, if the young man loved, ma'm'selle. How they had -laughed and talked. Perhaps--and yet she was not quite satisfied. - -But she went out and glanced up at the tree. Yes, there was a nest, and -a funny, peeping sound, a rustle in the branches. - -The path had been packed clear down to the gate. Some garden beds were -laid out, and the neglected grass trimmed up. It began to look quite -pretty. If there was something to do, to keep away thoughts. - -"Mre Lunde, will you teach me to knit?" she asked suddenly. - -"And sew, child. A woman needs that." - -"I can sew a little. But I have nothing to sew." - -"That will be provided if you wish for it. I think your uncle will be -glad. I have heard that where there are holy Sisters they teach girls, -but we have none here. And now you may help me get the supper." - -That tended to divert her troubled thoughts. And then Uncle Gaspard came -in with a guest and the meal was a very merry one. Afterward the two sat -over the desk busy with writing and talking until she was sleepy and -went to bed. - -She studied Uncle Gaspard furtively the next morning. He asked about the -school, and said in the afternoon they would take a walk, and this -morning she had better go to market with Mre Lunde. - -She found that quite an entertainment. The old market was not much, a -little square with some stalls, all kept by old women, it seemed. One -had cakes, the _croquecignolles_, the great favorite with everybody. A -curious kind of dry candied fruit, and a sausage roll that the men and -boys from the levees bought and devoured with hearty relish. Then there -was a stall of meats and a portly butcher in a great white gown. Some of -the stands were there only two or three days in the week. Most of the -inhabitants looked out for their own stores, but there were the boatmen -and the fur traders, and the _voyageurs_. There was but one bake shop, -so the market stall was well patronized. - -Some one called to Rene as she neared her own corner, and she turned. -It was a little girl she had seen in the class at the priest's house. - -"I am glad you have come here to live," she began. "Your name is Rene -de Long----" - -"Rene de Longueville," with a touch of formality. - -"And mine is Rosalie Pichou. I live just down in the street below. I -have five brothers and not one sister. How many have you?" - -"None at all." - -"Oh, I shouldn't like that. And I am always wishing for a sister. But -one of my brothers will be married shortly, only he is not coming home -to live." - -"Do you like him to marry?" - -"Oh, yes, we shall have a gay time and a feast. And then there will be -the new house to visit. Andre is just twenty-one, Pierre is eighteen, -Jules sixteen, and I am twelve. I am larger and older than you." - -They had walked up to the gate. Mre Lunde stood by it. "Will you not -come in and see Rene?" she asked, on the child's behalf. - -"Oh, yes," was the frank answer. "I came to see the new room when M. -Denys was building it. Oh, how pretty you have it!" in an almost envious -tone. - -"But then you can have all. At home, there are two little boys to -provide for, and I think boys are always hungry. Jules gets lots of -game, he is such a good shot. Oh, I have such a pretty cat and a kitten. -I wonder if you would like the kitten?" - -"Oh, yes," said Mre Lunde. "A cat is a comfortable creature to have -about, and a kitten full of play, merci! One never tires of her pranks. -You will like it, Rene?" - -The child's eyes shone with delight. - -"And your mother will let you bestow it?" the mre asked tentatively. - -"Oh, yes. You see, there are two dogs and a tame squirrel, and Jules is -always bringing home something. Ma mre scolds about it. And Jules is -afraid the kitten may get at his birds. Oh, yes, you can have it without -doubt. I'll run and fetch it now." - -Rosalie was back before she had time to go even one way, Rene thought. -A beautiful striped gray kitten, with a very cunning face. A fine black -stripe went from the outer corner of the eyes to his ears, and gave him -the appearance of wearing spectacles, which amused Rene very much. Then -they talked about the class. - -"I hate to study," declared Rosalie. "And reading is such slow work when -you don't understand. But it is beginning to be the fashion, ma mre -says, and presently people will be despised if they do not know how to -read. I like the sums best. You can say them after the Father and not -bother your brains. And that's why I don't mind the catechism. It isn't -like picking the words out of a page." - -"I can read quite well," said Rene, with a little pride. "And I like -it." - -"I can make netting and knit stockings and am learning to cook. Oh, I -must go home at once and help ma mre with the dinner. She told me not -to stay, and that I was to ask you to visit me. Come soon," and she made -a pretty gesture of farewell. - -Rene picked up the kitten. It was very tame, and made believe bite her -hand. Then it gave a sudden spring. - -"Oh, it will run away!" cried Rene in alarm. - -But one of the men in the garden caught it and gave it back to her. - -"Let us make him eat something. Then he will wash his face and stay. And -he will be excellent to catch mice in the shop. They destroy the skins -so." - -The kitten enjoyed a bit of meat. Then he sat down very gravely and -washed his face, which made Rene laugh. - -Uncle Gaspard came home and expressed himself delighted with the kitten. -He was fond of cats, and had been thinking of one. They had their -dinner, and he said he knew the Pichous very well, and was glad Rene -had a playmate so near. - -Presently they went out for their walk. Already Denys had explained to -Mre Lunde the prices of some of the ordinary articles, and where the -powder and shot were kept, so that she might provide for a casual -customer. But being a little out of the way, trade was not likely to be -very brisk. - -They went up the Rue de la Place and out at the side of the fort. There -were no houses save here and there a few wigwams, and Indian children -playing about in the front of them. Cultivated fields stretched out. The -King's Highway marked the western limit of the municipality; all the -rest was the King's domain, to be granted to future settlers. There was -the wide prairie, and to the northward the great mound. They mounted -this, and then they could see up the winding of the river to the chain -of rocks, and the Missouri on its way to join the greater stream and be -merged in it. Farther still, vague woodlands, until all was lost in dim -outlines and seemed resting against the sky. - -Gaspard Denys liked this far view. Sometimes he had thought of coming -out here and losing himself in the wilds, turning hunter like Blanchette -Chasseur, as a famous hunting friend of Pierre Laclede's was called. -North of the Missouri he had built a log cabin for himself, where any -hunter or traveller was welcome to share his hospitality. Denys himself -had partaken of it. - -Now he wondered a little if he had been wise to choose the child -instead, and give up his freedom. Blanchette had also established a post -at Les Pettites Ctes, which was the headquarters for many rovers, and -became the nucleus of another city. He was fond of adventures. - -But if he, Denys, had married, as he had once dreamed! Then he would -have given up the wild life long ago. Then there would have been home -and love. - -"O Uncle Gaspard," Rene cried, "you squeeze my hand so tight. And you -walk so fast." - -He paused suddenly and gazed down in the flushed face, the eyes humid -under their curling lashes. - -"My little dear!" and his heart smote him. "Let us sit down here in the -shade of this clump of trees and rest. You see, I never had a little -girl before, and forgot that she could not stride with my long legs." - -"And I am so thirsty." - -He glanced about. "We are only going a little farther," he said, "and -then we shall find a splendid spring and something to eat. Are you very -tired?" - -She drew a long breath and held up her little red hand. - -"Poor hand!" he said tenderly, pressing it to his lips. "Poor little -hand!" - -She leaned her head down on his shoulder. - -"You wouldn't like to have me go away?" she murmured plaintively. - -"Go away?" in surprise. "What put such an idea in your head?" - -"You wouldn't send me?" - -Strange these thoughts should find entrance in her mind when he had just -asked himself that curious question so akin to it. - -"What do you mean, little one?" - -"If--if you married--some one--who did not want me," in so desolate a tone -that it gave him a pang. - -"But I am not going to marry any one." - -"Are you very, very sure?" with an indrawn breath. - -He took her face between his hands suddenly and turned it upward. It was -scarlet and tears beaded the long lashes. - -"Come," he said in soft persuasion, "what is behind all this? Who has -been talking to you? If it is Mre Lunde----" - -"No--she said it was not true." - -"Surely that little Pichou girl is not a mischief maker! If so, she must -keep clear of us. I will not have you tormented." - -Then Rene began to cry softly and the truth came out with sobs. - -He smiled, and yet he was deeply touched. The little thing was jealous. -Yet was it not true that he was all she had in the world to love, and -that no one had really loved her until he came into her life? How she -had trusted him back there in Quebec after the first few hours! - -Now he gathered her up in his arms as if she been a baby, and kissed the -small hot face, tasting the salt tears. - -"Little one," he began in a tender, comforting tone, "set your heart at -rest. If the good God spares us, there will be many pleasant years -together, I hope. I am not going to marry any one, and Ma'm'selle Barbe -has a fine young admirer. She doesn't want an old fellow like me. You -can't understand now, but when you are older I will tell you the whole -story. I loved your mother and your grandfather took her away, married -her to some one else. That is why you are so dear to me." - -"Oh!" she cried, with a depth of feeling that surprised him. "Oh!" Then -she dropped down on her knees and put her arms about his neck, and he -could feel her heart beat against his breast. He was immeasurably -impressed. Could she understand what that meant? - -When he raised her face it was sweet and grave as that of an older -person might have been. Then she said softly. "I shall love you my whole -life long. I shall never love any one so dearly." - -How did she who had never had any one to love understand affection so -well? Perhaps because it is natural to the sex to own something it can -adore, and yet the little Renaud girls liked him very much, but there -was no such absorption in their regard. Ah, he was her all. They had the -natural ties of childhood on which to lavish their love. Barbe--he had -never thought of marrying her, though he had seen her grow up to -womanhood, and very charming at that. She was for some younger mate, and -there were plenty of them. Pretty girls, nor scarcely any girls, went -begging in the new countries. They were tempting enough without much -_dot_. - -And that her little heart should be torn by jealousy! He could have -smiled, only it seemed pitiful. He pressed her closer, sorry any -innuendoes should have been made before her. - -"Come, dear," he began tenderly, "we have not finished our walk. Or will -I have to carry you?" - -She sprang up lightly, her face all abloom, though her long lashes still -glistened. - -"Oh, no, no," smilingly. "But you have carried me--over part of the long -portage when I was so tired, and that night when it was dark. Oh, how -big and strong you are. There was some one in a book in the old -chteau--I have nearly forgotten, who was strong and brave. Uncle -Gaspard, why haven't you any books? The little ones at the Father's are -so queer, with their short sentences, and the children blunder so. I -like best to know about some person. Oh, can't we all tell that the dog -barks and the kitten mews, the cock crows, without reading it in a -primer! And--I would like to have a prayer book of my very own." - -"I think I have one somewhere about. But I will send to New Orleans for -some books the next time the boats go down. People have not had much -time for learning thus far." - -"And I had nothing to do in the old chteau but play and read. There was -no one to play with," sadly. "How funny that little girl was who brought -me the kitten! Five brothers! Well, I have two at home, in Paris, I -mean, but I never saw them only once. Rosalie! Isn't it a pretty name? I -wonder if you would like me to be called anything else?" - -"No, dear. You are a queen, my little queen. I don't want you changed in -any way. I only want you to be happy and content." - -She was so thoroughly rested now that although she gave little skips -occasionally and held his hand tightly, her heart seemed as light as the -birds flying overhead. And now they were coming to a small Indian -settlement, with a few wigwams, and long stretches of corn up high -enough to make a beautiful waving green sea as the wind moved it in -undulating billows. Women were cooking out of doors on little stone -fireplaces. Children played about; two small papooses hung up to a tree -branch were rocking to and fro. In the sun lay two braves asleep, too -lazy to hunt or fish. Yet it was a pretty picture. - -The tepees were in a semi-circular form. Denys passed the first one. At -the second a woman sat beside the flap doing some beautiful bead and -feather work. She raised her eyes and then sprang up with a glad smile, -holding her work in a sort of apron. - -"It is M'sieu Denys," in broken French, that sounded soft for an Indian -voice. "He has come back. He has taken a long journey to the Far East." -She glanced curiously at the stranger. - -"And brought home a little girl," smiling at the child. "She has come -from the land of the great Onontio, and I am to care for her. I am not -going to rove about any more, but trade with the residents and send -goods up and down the river. And I shall want many articles of you, -Mattawissa." - -She smiled and nodded. "I make not much for trade, but sometimes the -hunters buy for their sweethearts as they return. And will you trade -beads and silks? The threads we make are so troublesome to dye, and -sometimes the color is rough, not pretty," with a shrug. "I have heard -it comes up from the great city down below." - -"New Orleans. Yes. But I brought it with me from Canada. They use it in -the convents, where they do fine work. And the Spanish often take it -home to show, and ornament their houses for the strangeness of it, and -moccasins and bands, and the pretty things for real service. No one -makes them quite as well as you." - -"Will not the child sit down?" She brought a bag stuffed with grass, -much like the more modern hassock. Rene thanked her, and seated -herself. - -Mattawissa was proud of her French, and lame as it was, brought it out -on every occasion when talking to the white people. Denys had a -smattering of several Indian tongues, which most of the fur hunters and -traders soon acquired. - -Some of the little children of the forest crept up cautiously. Men they -were used to seeing; white women rarely, as those at a distance seldom -went into the settlements in their early youth. They were not strange to -Rene, and she smiled a little, but they retained their natural gravity -and evinced no disposition to make friends. - -Then Rene's attention was directed to the articles Mattawissa brought -out. Beautiful strips of wampum, collars ornamented with bits of shells -hanging by threads that made a soft, rhythmic sound as they were handled -about, bits of deerskin that were like velvet, on which she had traced -out delicate fancies that were really fascinating. Denys grew -enthusiastic over them, and begged them all. - -"This is for Talequah, the daughter of the Sioux who marries the son of -a chief before the moon of roses ends. I cannot part with that. But I -want beads, and if I could come in and choose?" inquiringly. - -"Oh, yes, come in by all means," Denys answered quickly. "I want to send -down the river--in a fortnight perhaps, and will take whatever you can -spare. You shall look over my store and select." - -"To-morrow if you like," hesitatingly. - -"Yes, the sooner the better." - -"I will bring these." - -"No, I will take them. It is not a heavy load," with a pleasant smile. -"And surely I am as able as you to carry the parcel. Then I am not a -brave. A trapper is used to waiting on himself." - -"But--I have something for the child." - -"O Rene, you will like that. Ma'm'selle is getting her chamber -furnished." - -"And you must eat." She went in the wigwam and returned with a red -earthen bowl decorated on the outside with a good deal of taste, not -unlike Egyptian pottery, the yellow edge so burned in and rubbed by some -process that it suggested dull gold burnished. Also a dainty boat made -of birch bark embroidered and beaded, with compartments inside for -trinkets, or it could be used for a work-box. - -"Oh, how very pretty! Uncle Gaspard, I can keep the boat on my table, -and the bowl on the little shelf you put up. And I shall fill it with -flowers. Madame, I thank you with all my heart. I know it is because you -like Uncle Gaspard so well, for an hour ago you did not know of me;" and -she pressed the Indian woman's hand. - -"I am glad it pleases you. I may find some other article. And now be -seated again. There is a long walk before you, and you must have -something to eat." - -She went out to the old woman bending over her preparations, and brought -for each a bowl of sagamity, a common Indian repast, oftener cooked with -fish than bits of pork; and a plate of cakes made of Indian corn pounded -fine in a rude mortar, or sometimes ground with one stone on top of -another. For though there were mills that ground both corn and wheat, -the Indians kept to their primitive methods. What did it matter so long -as there were squaws to do the work? - -Rene did not like the sagamity, but the cakes were good and the birch -beer was fine she thought. In spite of protest she insisted on carrying -her treasures home. - -Then Mattawissa wove a few strands of grass together, and bringing the -four ends up over the bowl knotted them into a bunch and made a kind of -basket. A piece of bark was slipped under the joining and this wound -around with a bit of deerskin so that it would not cut the fingers. -Rene watched the process with much interest, and thought it very -ingenious. - -Then they started homeward quite fresh from their long rest, but at the -last they had to hurry a little lest the gate at the fort should be -closed. - - - - -CHAPTER V - -WITH A TOUCH OF SORROW - - -The boats were coming up the river, a long line slow moving, and not -with the usual shouts and songs. Half the town turned out to welcome -them. Along the edge of the levee in the old days stretched a -considerable bluff, washed and worn away long ago to the level of Market -and Chestnut Streets. From here you had much of the river both up and -down in clear sight. - -It was thronged with men now in motley array, smoking their short pipes, -exchanging a bit of badinage and telling each other what treasures they -expected. For a few weeks there would be a rush of business until the -boats were loaded again and everything dropped back to the olden -inertia. There would be plenty of frolics too and a great warm welcome -for Pierre Laclede. - -A canoe was coming up swiftly, and yet there was no sign of gladness on -the boats, no flags flying gayly. - -"What does it all mean?" said some one perplexed. - -The canoe was steered slowly, touched the rude wharf, and the cheer died -in the throats of the throng. - -"It is bad news we bring. Monsieur Laclede is not with us. M. Pierre -Chouteau is heartbroken. Where is the colonel?" and the boat swung -round. - -"Here, here," and the tall, soldierly man sprang down the steps. "What -is it? What has happened to my brother?" and his tone was freighted with -anxiety. - -"Nothing to him but sorrow, Monsieur le Colonel. But our brave and true -friend, our great man and leader in everything, M. Laclede, is lost to -us forever. Monsieur, he is dead." - -The sailor bowed reverently. Colonel Chouteau clasped his hands -together. - -"Dead! dead! Our beloved M. Laclede." It ran through the crowd like a -knell. - -A great wave of sorrow swept over St. Louis. True, the boats came in and -there was bustle and business enough unloading. Some of them were to go -farther up, but they paused in a reverent fashion. The merriment of -welcome was hushed in reverent sadness. The little bell began to toll, -the steps so eager a moment ago were slow enough now. Every one felt he -had lost a friend. - -"But when and how did this happen?" asked Colonel Chouteau, dazed by the -unexpected sorrow, and still incredulous. - -The captain of one of the boats on which indeed Pierre Laclede had taken -his passage, stepped to the wharf and made a salute with his hand. Every -one crowded around to hear the story. - -It was melancholy enough and moved more than one to tears. M. Laclede -had not been altogether well on leaving New Orleans, and was trusting to -the exhilarating air of his loved town to restore him. But fever set in -and he had grown rapidly worse. It was a long and tedious journey in -those days, and medical lore was at a low ebb. Before they had reached -the Arkansas River the brave soul had yielded up his life, still in the -prime of a splendid manhood, not even attaining the privilege of -sepulture in the town of his heart, for which he had worked and planned -with a wisdom that was to remain long years afterward, like the -fragrance of a high, unwearied soul. - -They gathered in groups relating this and that to his praise. He had -founded the town, his busy brain and far-reaching wisdom had seen and -seized upon the points possible for a great _entrept_ of trade. And in -the years to come his wildest dreams would be more than realized, though -the faint-hearted ones feared now that everything would stop. - -Rene was aroused to a great interest in the tales of the intrepid -explorers. Sitting in the door in the soft darkness, for now the moon -did not rise until past midnight, she lingered, listening with a child's -eagerness to whom something new and wonderful is related, and Denys -telling adventures that even now moved him deeply. De Soto marching with -his little band across the Continent, suffering from perfidy and mutiny, -resolved to find a westward passage and the gold that had rewarded other -explorers in South America, and at last ill and wearied out, giving up -his life, and at night pushing off on the longer journey where friendly -hands rowed out silently as if to some unknown country, and softly -dropped their burden in the river, partly it is said because they did -not want the Indians to know that he was mortal and could die. - -Marquette and Joliet, brave heroes of a faith they wished to establish -everywhere, La Salle with his indomitable courage, being deserted and -with but one guide pushing through dangers, then going to France to seek -aid from the great king, convinced now that the Mississippi River was -not a waterway to the western coast as some had predicted, but would -open up a great river route to the Gulf of Mexico. There were wild -guesses in those days. But this proved true. In the name of Louis XIV. -he took possession of this splendid estate, that rendered France the -greatest proprietor of the new country. Not content with all this glory -he must essay another dangerous trip and lose his life by a perfidious -follower. - -Men made histories in those days and had but little time to write them. -Priests' journals and letters were to translate them later on. But -stories and legends were told over, passed down in families, and -treasured as sacred belongings. - -Rene was deeply interested. The heroism stirred her. Nearly every story -she wound in some way about Uncle Gaspard. It seemed as if he must have -sailed in every boat, trudged through wildernesses, even explored the -old cave with its shining walls and sides of lead that they mistook -first for silver; and after getting over his disappointment how Sieur -Renault opened the grand Valle mine that seems inexhaustible even -to-day. Gaspard had a wonderful way of making all these old heroes live -in the flesh again. - -Rene was a very happy little girl now. It was quite true that -Ma'm'selle Barbe had a lover, a handsome young fellow who was devoted, -who came every night with his violin, and when he did not play sang -charming French love songs. The Guions would much rather have had it -Gaspard Denys. He was "settled." And then he was a shrewd business -fellow and would be sure to make a fortune. Already he was acquiring a -good trade. Alphonse Maurice had no business of his very own, and was -barely twenty-one. But youthful marriages were very much in vogue in -those days, and most of them were happy. Life was so much more simple. - -Madame Renaud had a great leaning toward Gaspard as well. But what could -one do if he would not come, would not play the lover? She would have -laughed at the idea of the little Rene in any sense being a rival. - -The child had settled to a happy round. She went to the classes, but she -could read very well, and Gaspard had a way of explaining figures to -her. There was the business, too, that she was taking a great interest -in, and this amused him very much. - -Her kitten grew and was a great pet. There was a flower garden, though -wild flowers grew all about and there were wild berries in profusion. -She often went with Mre Lunde to gather them, sometimes with parties of -children. She learned little housewifely tricks as well. When she found -Mre Lunde had no end of memories and legends tucked under her cap, she -often made the gentle old body bring them out, when Uncle Gaspard had to -spend his evenings talking to the men. - -She rather liked the Saturday lesson, though she soon had it all by -heart. And she was quite a devout little church-goer. She had been very -much impressed when Father Gibault, the vicar general, came up and -delivered a funeral oration for Monsieur Pierre Laclede. - -Meanwhile the Chouteau brothers stepped into M. Laclede's business. -Colonel Auguste Chouteau had been his lieutenant and right-hand man for -years. He was very proud of the town, too, and resolved to improve the -old Laclede house and make it quite a centre. - -There was a new governor as well. Why a mild and judicious ruler like -Francisco Cruzat should have been superseded by an avaricious, -feeble-minded Spaniard, who was half the time incapable from drink, no -one could explain. - -Meanwhile some larger questions were coming to the fore that caused -great uneasiness. There was war between the American colonies and the -British, who had conquered a part of Canada. Spain avowed her sympathy -with the colonies. The Indians of the great northwest had affiliated -with the British. Then an American, Colonel Rogers Clark, had captured -the British posts at Cahokia and Kaskaskia, but afterward gone to -Vincennes. - -Colonel Chouteau argued that the town should be put in a state of -defence. The new palisades had not been finished. This was pushed -forward now, the wall strengthened with logs and clay, and in some -places rebuilt. The old cannon was replaced with new, and the gates made -more secure. The governor even in his sober moments laughed at these -precautions. - -Sometimes on a Sunday or holiday Gaspard Denys took Rene to visit her -grandfather. He made no effort to claim her. Indeed, he was away a good -deal, and then his cabin was locked up. - -Over beyond at the southern end was the great Chouteau pond, almost a -lake where the mill was situated, then a kind of creek winding about and -another lovely spot, broadening out, turning around again, and ending in -a long point. Young people and older ones too went out to row, taking -their dinner in picnic fashion. They were always full of pleasure, these -merry French. - -Christmas had delighted Rene, and brought a disappointment as well. It -was a great season in old St. Louis. At twelve o'clock every one who -possibly could went to midnight mass and the little church was crowded. -The people were already outgrowing it. Father Meurin had come up from -other visitations, there was good old white-haired Father Savigne, who -had been a missionary to the Indians and several times barely escaped -with his life. Father Valentine taught the children and was much -younger. - -The altar was decorated and illuminated with candles in front of the -Virgin Mother and her baby Son. The solemn yet lovely sound of the -Gregorian chants made waves of music through the chapel and stirred -every heart. There was the solemn consecration, the kneeling, adoring -multitude, the heartfelt responses. - -They might not have understood the intricate, hair-splitting truths of -to-day, and many no doubt came far short of the divine precepts, but -they did worship with all their hearts and souls. And when the priest -rang the bell on the hour of midnight it touched them all with deep -reverence; and they were glad to join in the hymn, and the benediction -descended like a blessing. - -Ah, how beautiful it was out of doors! There was no moon, but myriad -stars gleamed and glowed, and it seemed as if they were touched with all -faint, delicate colors. The ground was white with snow, the peaked roofs -were spires, and the river a dark, winding valley. - -Outside the church everybody shook hands and gave good wishes. Children -and old people were all together. No one would have missed the mass. But -now they chatted gayly and talked of the coming day, the young men -loitering to capture some pretty girl and walk home with her. - -Mre Lunde stirred the fire and Denys put a great log on it, and on his -own in the shop. The little girl's window was hung with a fur curtain, -for occasionally the wind found chinks to whistle through as it came -from the great prairies beyond and brought the sound of writhing and -sometimes crushed forests. But all was warmth within. Mre Lunde made a -hot drink with wine and spices, and brought out her Christmas cake which -she had not meant to cut until to-morrow. - -"But see, it is to-morrow already," she said with her cheery laugh. She -had devoted several prayers for her poor son's soul and she was quite -sure he was safe with the Blessed Virgin and now understood what -heavenly life was like. - -"It was all so beautiful," Rene said with a long breath of delight. -"And the singing! I can hear it yet in the air." - -"Thou must to bed, little one, for to-morrow will be a gay day," said -Gaspard, kissing her. "Mre, see that she is well tucked in, for the -night is cold." - -Alas! for all the precaution the little girl woke up with a strange hot -feeling in her throat, and her head was heavy and seemed twice as large -as ordinary. She tried to raise it, but everything in the room swam -round. She gave a faint cry, but no one heard, for Mre Lunde was busy -among pans and pots. - -"Come, little laggard!" cried a cheery voice. "The children are here -with their trennes." - -These were little cakes with dried fruit dipped in maple syrup and thus -coated over. The children carried them about to each other on Christmas -morning. - -The only answer was a low moan. Uncle Gaspard leaned over the small bed. - -"Rene, Rene, what is it?" He raised her in his arms and was startled -at her flushed face, her dulled eyes, her hot hands. - -"O mre," he cried. "Come, the little one is very ill." - -They looked at her, but she did not seem to know them, and moaned -pitifully. "Something must be done. She has taken cold, I think, and has -a hot fever." - -Very few people called in a doctor in those days. Indeed, it would have -been difficult to find him this morning. There were many excellent -home-made remedies that all housewives put up in the autumn, compounded -of roots and barks, some of them learned from the Indian women. - -"Poor child, poor _petite_, yes, she must be attended to at once. Get -thy breakfast, m'sieu, while I make some comfort and aid for her. Yes, -it is a fever." - -"But what shall I do for her?" - -"Get me some ears of corn, good big ones." - -"And leave her?" aghast at the thought. - -"Thou wilt not cure her by staring at her. She can take no harm for a -few moments." - -There was always a big kettle standing on the coals with four short legs -holding it up. Mre Lunde raked out the ashes and pushed the flaming -brands under it. Gaspard exhumed an armful of corn from a big box in the -shop. - -"Drop them in," she said. "A dozen or so." - -"Oh, yes, I know now." He nodded in a satisfied fashion, for he had -faith in the remedy. - -Soon the water bubbled up and the fragrance of the steaming corn -diffused itself about the room. Mre Lunde went to the bed and put a -thick blanket under the child. Then the ears were laid about her and she -was rolled up like a mummy. The woman raised her head a trifle and -forced a potion down her throat that almost strangled her. Spreading -blankets over her, she tucked her in securely, and, patting the top one, -meant for love to the child, she turned away. - -"Well people must eat for strength, and Christmas day is no time for -fasting. Come." - -But Gaspard Denys was in no mood for eating. He had never thought of -Rene being ill. He knew of some children who had died, and there was -Monsieur Laclede who looked strong enough to live to a hundred years, -who had gone out of life with a fever. Oh, he could not give up his -little girl! - -"Is that all?" he asked presently. - -Mre Lunde understood. - -"There's no use running in and out like the mill stream, for it's the -flour that is getting ground," she said sententiously. "Wait a bit." - -He had large patience with most events of life, but here was breathless -with suspense. If she had been drooping for days, but she was so merry -last night. - -Rosalie came to the door. The children were going to Chouteau pond to -skate and slide. Would not Rene join them? - -"Alas! Rene was very ill." - -"But she must get better by to-morrow," nodding hopefully and laughing. - -After that Grandpre Freneau came up, which startled Gaspard, for he had -never deigned to visit his grandchild. He was sober and comparatively -well dressed, and had a little gift for her, a curious inlaid box, with -a trinket a girl might like. She would be well again in a few days. -Children were tough and sturdy, it was the old people who had to think -about ills. As for him, he was strong enough yet. - -Then he made a clumsy sort of bow and retreated. - -"I hope it will bring no bad luck," exclaimed Mre Lunde. "But he has -not a good name. I should throw the gift into the fire!" - -"I dare say it is of no great value." He shook the box. "Some bits of -silver with which he salves his conscience." - -Mre Lunde crossed herself. - -He put it away in his desk. He was not superstitious, but he wished it -had not happened this morning. - -It was quite late, but he unbarred his shop door. There was no trade -now. The fall business had lasted longer than usual on account of the -fine, open weather. When the cold once set in it often lasted steadily -for three months. But there was plenty of pleasure. The regular trappers -had gone off, but hunting parties often sallied out and returned laden -with game. - -Mre Lunde stole in to look at her patient and shook her head, threw -some more ears of corn in the kettle and answered the calls that came in -a joyous mood and left in sorrow. For people were very sympathetic in -those days, and cares were shared in true neighborly fashion. - -Presently there was a little moisture about the edge of Rene's hair, -but the watcher did not like the dull purple of her cheeks nor the -labored breathing. There might be a poultice for the throat; yes, she -would make that. And if the good Father came and made a prayer! But that -seemed as if one must be very ill indeed. - -Gaspard had no mind for pleasure. He went in and stood by the child, who -most of the time lay in a heavy sort of sleep. How strange she looked -with her red, swollen face, quite unlike herself! - -Yes, he would go for Dr. Montcrevier, though he had not much faith in -him, for he seemed to think more of strange bugs and birds and fishes -than human beings. However, his search was fruitless, perhaps it was as -well. - -"The fever is abating," was Mre Lunde's greeting in a joyous tone. -"Great drops have come out on her forehead. Ah, I think we shall conquer -with the good corn. And she has been awake." - -There was less pressure for breath, though the rattle in the throat was -not a pleasant sound. But by mid-afternoon she was in a drench of -perspiration, and then Mre Lunde rubbed her dry and rolled her in a -fresh blanket. - -"What is the matter? I feel so queer," exclaimed the tremulous voice. - -"You are ill, poor little child," in a tender tone. - -"Is it morning? The night was so long. It seemed as if the house was -burning up." - -"It was the bad fever. Oh, yes, it is day, almost another night. Oh, -little one, the good God be praised!" - -Mre Lunde dropped down on her knees and repeated a short prayer. - -Rene raised her head. - -"Oh, it still feels queer. And I am so tired." - -She dropped off to sleep again. Mre Lunde had two potions, one for the -fever, one for her general strength, but she would not disturb her now. -Sleep was generally a good medicine. - -"She has spoken. She is better," was the mre's greeting as Denys -entered. "But she is asleep now. Do not disturb her." - -Yes, the dreadful purple was going out of her face. He took the limp -little hand. It was cooler, though the pulse still beat hard and high. -Ah, how much one could come to love and hardly know it until the threat -of losing appeared. And he thought of her mother. He could never get it -out of his mind but that she had died in cruel neglect, alone and -heartbroken. He pressed the slim fingers to his lips, he studied the -brow with its soft, light rings of hair, the almost transparent eyelids -and long lashes, the dainty nose that had a piquant ending not quite -_retrouss_ but suggestive of it, and the small mouth, the lips wide in -the middle that gave it a roundness often seen in childhood. She would -be a pretty young girl, though it was her soft yet deep and wondering -eyes that made her resemble her mother. - -When she roused again Mre Lunde administered her potions. She made a -very wry face over the bitter one. The good mre put another poultice on -her throat and spread it well over her chest; rolling her up again like -a mummy. She would have laughed if there had not been a great lump in -her throat. - -"I am like a papoose," she said. "Uncle Gaspard, sit here and tell me -some stories." - -He would not go away after she had fallen asleep, but wrapped himself in -a blanket and leaned his head on the foot of her bed. Now and then she -moaned a little, which gave him a pang, and after midnight she grew very -restless. The fever was coming on again. Mre Lunde roused her and gave -her another potion, and before daylight she had prepared the corn bath -again. The fever did not seem to be as obstinate. By noon she was quite -comfortable. Father Lemoine brought in the vicar general, who was going -back to Ste. Genevieve. This was a great honor, and Mre Lunde brought -out some wine that had come from the real vineyards of France. - -Father Meurin heard the little girl's story. He had known of Antoine -Freneau, indeed, he had performed the first marriage and given the first -baptism in the little town. That was in a tent, because there was no -church. And the first services had been held in the fields, for the -church had been built hardly ten years. - -"She would be in poor hands if left to her grandfather," he admitted. -"And I hope she will be rightly brought up. If you had a wife, M. -Denys." - -"I have rambled about so much I have had no time to marry," he returned -rather drily. "But now I shall settle down." - -"I hope so. It is what the towns need, steady occupancy. And you will -deal rightly with the child and see that she is brought up as a daughter -of the Church should be. You are quite sure her mother--" he finished the -question with his eyes. - -"I saw the marriage register in the cathedral at Quebec. Then her mother -was taken to France, where she died," Denys answered. - -The vicar nodded, satisfied. He repeated the prayer for the recovery of -the sick and gave them all a kindly blessing with his adieu. - -Gaspard Denys fell into a brown study. She was not his child, to be -sure. Would it make any difference any time in the future? Ought there -to be some woman different from Mre Lunde--bah! it would be years before -Rene was grown up. And the little one wanted no one to share his love. -He was glad--that would always be an excuse to himself. He never could -put any one in the place he had hoped to set Rene Freneau. - - - - -CHAPTER VI - -BY THE FIRESIDE - - -Rene mended slowly. She had indeed been very ill. She was so weak that -it tired her to sit up among the pillows in her bed. And one day when -she insisted upon getting up she dropped over into Mre Lunde's arms. - -"Where is all my strength gone to?" she inquired pettishly. - -"_Pauvre petite_," it was queer, and the good woman had no science to -explain it. - -But her throat improved and her voice cleared up, the fever grew lighter -every day and she began to have some appetite. Friends came in to -inquire and sympathize and bring delicacies. Madame Renaud offered her -services, but no one was really needed, though the cordial, smiling face -did Rene good. Ma'm'selle Barbe brought the two little girls, who -looked awestricken at the pale face, where the eyes seemed bigger than -ever. - -Uncle Gaspard made a sort of settle on which they could put some -cushions and blankets so that she could be brought out to the living -room and watch Mre Lunde at her work. Then he improved upon it and made -it into a kind of chair with a back that could be raised and lowered by -an ingenious use of notches and wooden pins. He was getting so handy -that he made various useful articles, for in those days in these upper -settlements there were so few pieces of furniture that could be -purchased, unless some one died and left no relatives, which was very -seldom. Proud enough one was of owning an article or a bit of china or a -gown that was a family heirloom. - -"Oh," he said one evening when she was comfortably fixed and the blaze -of the great logs lighted up the room and made her pale face a little -rosy, "I had almost forgotten--you have been so ill it drove most other -things out of my mind. Your grandfather came up here on Christmas day -and brought you a gift." - -"A gift! Oh, what was it?" - -"Mre Lunde had not forgotten, but she had a superstitious feeling about -it. I will get it for you," Gaspard said. - -He returned from the adjoining room with the box in his hand. It was -very securely fastened with a twisted bit of deerskin, which was often -used for cord. - -"Open it," she begged languidly. - -He cut the cord but did not raise the cover. She held it some seconds in -her hand. - -"Uncle, do you remember you told me about a girl who opened a box and -let troubles out all over the world?" - -"But she was bidden not to. Grandpre Antoine did not leave any such -word as that," smilingly. - -She raised the cover slowly. There was a bit of soft white fur in the -bottom and on it lay a golden chain and a cross, with a pearl set where -the arms and upright met. In the clasp was a smaller pearl. She held it -up silently. - -"The good saints must have touched his soul!" ejaculated Mre Lunde. "A -beautiful cross! It is gold?" with a questioning glance at Denys. - -Rene handed it to him. - -"Oh, yes, gold of course. And your grandfather seemed quite moved with -pity for you. I saw him again this morning, but he said, 'Oh, I did not -think she would die.'" - -Rene's eyes were wide open, with a startled light. "Did anybody -think--that?" and her voice trembled. - -"You may be sure I did not," exclaimed Denys with spirit, almost with -joyousness. "I would not have let you go." - -She held out both arms to him, and he clasped her to his heart. - -"But people are compelled to sometimes," said Mre Lunde gravely. - -"We were not compelled. And now you are to get well as rapidly as -possible. Everybody has been having a merry time with the king's ball, -and you have missed it. But there is next year." - -How far away next year seemed! Spring, and summer, and autumn. - -"How long have I been ill? It is queer, but I don't seem to remember -clearly," trying to think, and studying the leaping blaze that seemed -like a group of children playing tag, or hide and seek. - -"It is almost a month. First it was pretty bad," and he compressed his -lips with a queer expression and shook his head. Now he had let his hair -grow quite long, as most of the men did, and the ends fell into a sort -of curl. - -"And then--Mre Lunde, the things you gave me were very bad and bitter, -and my head used to go round, I remember. Sometimes things stood on the -ceiling in such a funny position. And then to be like a baby, hardly -able to walk." - -She gave a soft, languid ripple of a laugh. Ah, what if he had lost her! - -"And when can I go out?" - -"Oh, not in a long while. It is bitter cold, even the river is full of -ice chunks. But you may dance at the next king's ball." - -"The king's ball?" inquiringly. - -"Not the King of France," with a gentle smile. "When the Christ was born -three kings came to do Him honor. And the feast is always kept." - -"The blessed Epiphany," explained Mre Lunde. "Though why it should be -given over to all this merry-making I can't see." - -"Did you ever go?" asked Rene. - -"Oh, yes. But not last year--I had started for Canada. And the year -before I was up with the hunters." - -"Tell me about it." - -He sat down beside her. She was twisting the chain about her fingers. - -"There is not much to do for the people who stay here in the winter, -though New Orleans is twice as gay. So they have the balls. There are -four queens, pretty young girls, and they each choose a king and open -the ball with him. Then they dance. But the old people and a good many -of the children go as well. And there is dancing and jollity and a feast -of good things to eat, and much laughing and jesting and falling in -love, with the marrying at Easter. Next year we will go." - -"I will keep my chain to wear then." She put it back in the box. "And -when I am well I will go down and thank grandfather." - -"Yes, yes, that will be the right thing to do. I will take you." - -Then they were silent awhile. "Tell me some of the stories you know," -she entreated. - -"I have told you so many." - -"But you can think of one more," in her coaxing tone. "Away up in the -north and the endless fields of snow, and where does it end?" - -"At the North Pole, I believe." - -"And what is that?" eagerly. - -"We will have to ask Dr. Montcrevier. I have never been farther than -Hudson's Bay." - -"But people can't live in such endless cold!" - -"I think not. Only polar bears and the white and silver fox, and they -come down in the winter. And then there are islands hundreds of miles -away below us, where it is always summer." - -"What a queer world!" She smiled absently as if she could hardly take it -in. "Have you been there?" - -"Only to New Orleans. Some day we will go there, too." - -"Oh, how much there is to do. Yes, one must live a long while to do it -all," and a thoughtful expression deepened her eyes. - -"And you are tired, little one. You must go to bed." - -It was strange to get so tired. She had been tired many times on the -long journey from Canada, but not like this. She was very glad she had -not died, however, though she had no very clear idea about death, except -that it meant going to another world. Uncle Gaspard was here, and that -was one reason why she wanted to stay. - -Presently she began to go about and take pleasure in having the children -come in and tell her about their sports. The life was so simple, the -main thing seemed to be the good times. No one troubled about education -and there were no "higher branches" to vex one's soul. There was much -less dissipation here than in New Orleans or even Detroit, where people -from other towns were continually mingling. - -One day Uncle Gaspard took her out on his sledge. She had never dreamed -of anything so splendid. Great fields of snowy white, as far as the eye -could see, dotted here and there with a cluster of wigwam poles and -brown skins stretched on the outside for warmth. A little blue-gray -smoke curled lazily upward, and then the bluest sky over it all. The air -was exhilarating and brought a color to her pale cheeks, and made her -eyes glow like stars. - -Then spring came. The white blanket melted away, the evergreens and -spruces scented the air with their new growth; the little streams rushed -hither and thither as if they were joyfully carolling, birds sang and -built everywhere. Children were out for wild flowers, and raced around -like deers. Some days the old mound was alive with them, then they were -down to Chouteau's pond. The boys and often some girls went up the river -in canoes. There was the old rock of Fort St. Louis with its story of a -hundred years agone, of how La Salle had built a fort and planted an -Indian colony, that, when its leader had gone, dwindled and went back to -its native tribes. How there had been a fierce quarrel between the -Illinois and the Outgamies, and the Illinois had fled to the top of the -rock and stayed there until starvation stared them in the face and -French intervention came to their assistance. - -Then business opened and Gaspard Denys found his hands full. His wide -acquaintance with the hunters and his dealings with the Indians brought -him in a great deal of trade. There was a continual loading and -unloading of boats, the levee was thronged. Denys had to take in a -clerk, and his evenings were devoted to straightening accounts and -preparing for the next day, and it seemed to Rene as if he was always -busy now, with no time for stories. - -Easter brought a gay festival and several weddings. The young -_voyageurs_ were warmly welcomed home and there was always a feast or a -ball given in their honor. When the houses were too small, they went out -and danced on the green. Marriages seemed an especially social affair. -The families on both sides made the agreement and were mutually pleased. -It was seldom a young couple disregarded the respect universally paid to -parents, and though there was much pioneer life there was a kind of -elegance and refinement among the women with all their vivacious gayety. -The admixture of Spanish blood was no bad element. - -One of the young traders had brought home with him a beautiful Indian -wife, lawfully wedded by one of the mission priests. These mixed -marriages were not in much favor with the French. Now and then a trapper -brought in one and stayed a few months, but she nearly always preferred -to share his hunting expeditions. Still, there were some comfortably -settled, whose families years afterward were very proud of their Indian -descent. - -Franois Marchand found an old friend in Gaspard Denys. It does not take -a decade to cement a friendship made over camp-fires and days filled -with adventures and dangers. They had not met in two years, and the -youth, who seemed but a stripling to Gaspard then, was now a fine young -fellow, his slim figure filled out, his thin face rounded with certain -lines of energy, determination, and good health. His clear blue eyes -were resolute and undaunted; his chestnut hair was cropped close, which -made him less of an object for an Indian's scalping knife. - -"How the town has grown!" he exclaimed with great earnestness. New St. -Louis would have laughed at the idea that twenty or thirty families -could add much importance. But there had been a few new houses built, -sundry additions made to older ones where families had increased. -Colonel Chouteau was beautifying the house and grounds where his -lamented chief and dear friend had lived. The government house had been -repaired, though the new occupant seemed much more indifferent than his -people, and cared very little for the interest of the town in general. - -"We shall have a fine place by and by," returned Denys. "True, New -Orleans has the mouth of the great river, but if no boats come down, -what then? And we are the half-way house, the north and the south both -need us. If it were not for these troublesome restrictions on trade, and -the fear of the British." - -"France, it seems, has sided with the colonies, and Spain has given them -a certain sympathy," returned Marchand. "You hear a good deal of talk up -north. The fur dealers of New Amsterdam are quite sure the colonies will -win in the end, though by my faith it doesn't look very promising now," -and he gave a doubtful laugh. - -"Almost five years of losing and winning! Well, they are plucky not to -be discouraged. But what troubles me a little are the English over -there!" nodding to the eastward. "If some fine day they descend upon -us--well, we shall be wiped out, that is all about it! The government at -New Orleans does not seem to care, and sends us this drunken, insolent -fellow for commandant, who is as set in his own ways as a mule." - -"The English will be kept busy enough on the eastern coast defending -their ports and trying to capture the cities. Faith! it is a great and -glorious country, and I hardly know which has the best, the east or the -west. If some day the way is cleared to the Pacific coast, and then, -presto! India!" - -India was still a dream of the advancement of commerce. The western -empire was to turn more than one brain. - -Denys studied the young face in the glow of youthful enthusiasm. - -"Marchand, you should have been a soldier," he said. - -"Well, which side shall I take?" mockingly. "I am French. Those cursed -English have driven us out of Canada. Thank Heaven we have left some -graves of heroes there. But I wonder what Louis le Grand could have been -thinking of to allow himself to be despoiled of such a magnificent -estate! And here we were all turned over to Spain without even a chance -to fight for our homes in the New World," and Marchand gave a strong, -scornful laugh. "There are still the Indians left." - -"We have kept good friends with them so far." - -"But the British can stir them up easily. Rum and firearms may do the -mischief. Still, it is true that some day I may have to fight for my -life, or something I hold dearer than life." - -"Are you going back north?" - -Marchand shook his head. He was sitting on a pile of skins leaning -against the wall, picturesque in his _voyageur's_ attire, which was -highly ornamented with Indian work. Now and then in the intervals of -talk he blew out a volume of smoke from his pipe, or made rings in the -air when he took it from his mouth. There was something jaunty and -light-hearted about him in spite of the resolute eyes. - -"Nay," with a shake of the head, "I have cut myself out of that. I like -the life, too. Denys, were you ever very much in love? But no, that is a -foolish question, for you are the sort of man to fight for the one who -roused your soul. And so many pretty girls are here in St. Louis!" - -"Yes, I heard you had married," evading the half inquiry. - -"I want you to see her, my beautiful Indian prize. Though I suspect -there is a strain of French blood back of her mother, who was brought -somewhere from Canada. And when her father was killed at one of those -dreadful massacres up on the strait (her mother had died before), she -and her brother were adopted in one branch of the Huron tribe. Her -brother married a chief's daughter. I saw her first more than a year -ago, in the winter. She was only a child, not as forward as most Indian -maids. And last winter we met again, and yes, fell in love with each -other. The squaw who had been like a mother to her consented. But -straightway there was trouble. Her brother had chosen a brave for her, a -fellow noted for his fighting propensities and his love of drink. It was -surmised that he was buying her. She shrank from him with horror. He had -had two wives already, and rumor said he had beaten one to death. I was -ready to leave with my men and pack, and she came to me in terror and -despair. She would have killed herself, I know, before she could have -gone to such a brute. We loved each other, and the old woman Nasauka -pitied us, and had a strong liking for me. So it was arranged. I was to -start with my people, leaving her behind. When the train was several -days under way I was to remain at a given point where Nasauka was to -meet me with the girl, and then return to ward suspicion from the right -track. I only hope the poor woman did not suffer for her kindly sympathy -for us. We made our way along without any alarm. At a mission station a -priest married us. And now we are safe here and doubtless unsuspected. -But I shall not expose myself to any dangers, at least for several years -to come. There are other trails to work on. Or we may go farther south." - -"Quite a romantic story, Marchand. The saints be praised that you -rescued her from such a life, though I think she would have chosen death -rather. I have known of several instances. Yes, it will be safer not to -visit the old hunting ground, even if the brave solaces himself with a -new wife." - -"And now you must see her. I know there is a little prejudice, and," -with a cynical sort of smile, "if I had a sister I should not let her -marry an Indian if I had to shut her up in a convent. But there are many -charming Indian girls and kindly hearted squaws, true as steel, who will -suffer anything rather than betray. Strange, too, when you find so much -deceit and falseness and cruelty among the men." - -"The women take all the virtues, perhaps. Yes, I shall be glad to -welcome you. To-morrow you will bring her to dine with us. Meanwhile, -you have found a home?" - -"With the Garreaus. Pierre did the same thing, you know, and is happy -enough with his two pretty children. Ah, when you see my beautiful wife -you will not wonder that I went mad for her," laughing with a kind of -gay triumph. - -Ah, if he had been brave enough at twenty to fly with Rene Freneau! But -would she have dared an unblessed marriage? And then neither dreamed of -such a result from the journey to Canada. - -"I shall not blame you," Gaspard answered gravely. "And if you want a -staunch friend, here he is," springing up and holding out his hand. - -"A thousand thanks, Gaspard Denys. I wanted to tell you my story. It is -not for every one, only the fact that I have loved and married her. And -now it grows late. Good-night." - -They clasped hands again cordially. Denys shut his shop door and went -through to the other room. Mre Lunde was telling over some beads. Rene -sat in the chimney corner, but the fire was out long ago. - -"Why did you let that man talk so long to you?" with pretty -imperiousness. "And I grew very sleepy. But I wanted to say good-night." - -"He had much to relate, a story you will like to hear sometime. And he -is coming to-morrow to bring a pretty Indian wife that he found up by -the Strait of Michilimackinac. That is a long name, is it not?" - -"And is the strait long--as long as to the end of the millpond?" - -"It is of more account. It connects the big Lake Michigan with Lake -Huron." - -Geography had not come to be one of the studies, and the only maps were -the traders' rough outlines of journeys. - -She was not considering the lakes. Her thoughts were as rapid as a -bird's flight. - -"Is she like Mattawissa?" - -"Oh, younger, much younger. Only a girl. Fifteen or sixteen perhaps. -They will come to dinner to-morrow. Mre Lunde," raising his voice a -little, "we shall have guests to-morrow. Give us a good dinner." - -"Guests! How many?" in a cheerful tone. - -"Oh, only two. A young trader and his wife, a pretty Indian girl. -Unless, indeed, some one else drops in." - -This often happened in a town where there were no inns, and sometimes -led to rather amusing episodes when a traveller mistook the wide-open -doors and a bountiful table for a hostelry. - -"Did you see her?" asked Rene, following out her own thoughts. - -"No, but I have known him some time. He was a young lad here in the -town, Franois Marchand." - -Mre Lunde shut down the cover of the box that held her beads, and -picked up the end of her stout apron. It always seemed to assist her -memory. - -"Marchand. And a boy. Had he very blue eyes?" - -"Yes, and he has them still," laughed Denys. - -"Then I know. He was a nice lad. It is a thousand pities he has married -an Indian. Yes, you shall have a good dinner. Rene, it is time thou -went to bed." - -Rene rose and kissed Uncle Gaspard. She had, ever since her illness, -that seemed to have drawn them nearer together, if such a thing had been -possible. - -As a great honor the next day, she brought out her pretty bowl and -filled it with flowers. Uncle Gaspard had made a small table with a -drawer that held Mre Lunde's beads and some other choice articles, and -had a shelf low down on which was kept a work-basket with sewing -materials, for at times Rene was seized with a fit of devotion to her -needle. On the top of the table she set the bowl. - -Curious eyes had followed Franois Marchand down the Rue de l'Eglise. -For with a vanity quite natural the young girl had taken in her flight -her beautifully ornamented dress that would have adorned any Indian -bride. Long afterward in the Marchand family they used to display -grandmre's exquisitely worked suit. - -Gaspard Denys with Rene by the hand went out to the gate to bid them -welcome. Rene almost stared. A slim, graceful figure of medium height, -with a face that in some towns would have attracted more attention than -the attire. Large, soft eyes of dusky, velvety blackness, a complexion -just tinted with Indian blood, the cheeks blossoming in the most -exquisite rose hue, while the lips were cherry red. Her long hair was -brushed up from her straight, low brow, held with a band of glittering -bead work, and falling about her shoulders like a veil, much softer and -finer than ordinary Indian hair. Her short skirt had a band of shining -white feathers overlapping each other, with here and there a cluster of -yellow ones that resembled a daisy. The fine, elegantly dressed fawnskin -was like velvet. The bodice was wrought with beads and variously colored -threads and a sort of lace the Indian women made, though it was an -infrequent employment, being rather tedious. Over her shoulders a cape -of soft-dressed, creamy skin, with designs worked here and there in fine -detail. - -She colored daintily on being presented to M. Denys, and he in turn -brought forward his little protg, who held up her head proudly and -felt almost as tall. But a second glance conquered Rene. She proffered -both hands cordially. - -"Oh, I am sure I shall like you," she cried frankly. How could any one -help adoring so much beauty! For Rene was not envious of beauty alone. - -The young wife took the hands with glad pressure, and they went in -together. - -"Here is a friend who remembers you," said Denys to Marchand. "Her son -died, and at that juncture I wanted a housekeeper. She fits in -admirably." - -Mre Lunde trembled with delight when he shook her hand so heartily and -expressed his pleasure at seeing her again, declaring that she had grown -younger instead of older, which was true enough, so great a restorer is -freedom from care and fear of coming want. - -"But the child?" said Marchand with curiosity in his eyes. - -The child was playing hostess to the young wife with the ease and grace -of a true Frenchwoman, and displaying the adornments of her room. This -and that had come from Mattawissa, who made beautiful articles that -Uncle Gaspard sent to New Orleans, and who was sweet and friendly, not -like some of the morose old Indian women about. But then Mattawissa was -not old. - -Gaspard smiled at the little girl's chatter, and explained briefly. - -"One would hardly think such a pretty innocent thing could belong to old -Antoine! Is he still in with the river pirates? His goods must be hidden -somewhere. He does not keep them in the house, it would seem, for the -guards found nothing when they searched." - -"He is a shrewd old dog," replied Gaspard. "But his wife and his -daughter were of a different kind. And you see he could not have taken -charge of the child." - -Marchand nodded. - -The dinner was certainly Mre Lunde's best. The men had their talk about -trade and who was prospering, but the two girls, who sat side by side, -had some gay laughs, and occasionally hard work to understand each -other. Wawataysee, the Firefly, as she was called in her native -language, knew a little French and a little English, and often confused -them. Rene had picked up a few words of English, but the tongue was -quite despised at that time. And when the dinner was through they went -out to walk, pausing at the little old church and the priest's house on -the way to the fort, and the little plot about. - -Father Valentine came out and gave them a cordial greeting. Denys did -the honors. - -The priest bent his head close to Marchand's. - -"You have been true and fair with this beautiful girl?" he asked a -little anxiously. "She is your lawful wife?" - -"Yes, oh, a thousand times yes. Here is the good father's signature and -that of the witnesses. It was at the little mission at St. Pierre's." - -He took out a bundle of papers in a deerskin wallet. Tied securely in a -little package by itself was the priest's certificate. - -Father Valentine nodded, well pleased. "And she is a baptized -Christian," he added. "I wish you both much happiness." - -"Suppose you keep this awhile for me," said Marchand, "while I am -changing about. I hardly know yet where I shall settle." - -"Gladly will I oblige you. But why not stay here, my son? St. Louis -needs industry and energy and capable citizens for her upbuilding." - -"I am thinking of it, I confess. I have already met with a warm welcome -from old friends." - -They walked round about the fort. Wawataysee knew curious legends of -Pontiac and had heard of the siege of Detroit. Indeed, many of the -Hurons had participated in it. And here was the end of so much bravery -and energy, misdirected, and of no avail against the invincible march of -the white man. - - - - -CHAPTER VII - -AT THE KING'S BALL - - -It was a very gay summer to Rene de Longueville. - -Rosalie Pichou protested and grew angry at being superseded. - -"She is only an Indian after all," the girl exclaimed disdainfully. "And -my mother thinks it a shame M'sieu Marchand should have married her when -there were so many nice girls in St. Louis." - -"But she is beautiful and sweet. And, Rosalie, Uncle Gaspard will not -care to have you come if you say ugly things about her." - -"Well, I can stay away. There are plenty of girls to play with. And I -shall soon be a young ma'm'selle and have lovers of my own, then I shall -not care for a little chit like you. You can even send the cat back if -you like." - -The cat had grown big and beautiful and kept the place free from mice -and rats, which was a great object in the storeroom. Uncle Gaspard said -he would not trade it for a handsome silver foxskin, which everybody -knew was worth a great deal of money in France. - -Madame Marchand made many friends by her grace and amiability. She -taught Rene some beautiful handiwork, and with the little girl was -always a welcome visitor at Mattawissa's, though at first they had as -much difficulty understanding each other's Indian language as if it had -been English. But what a lovely, joyous summer it was, with its walks -and water excursions up and down the river and on the great pond! - -On Saturday she went with Rene to be instructed in the Catechism, and -whichever father was there he seemed impressed with Wawataysee's sweet -seriousness and gentle ways. - -Then autumn came on. The great fields of corn were cut, the grapes -gathered and the wine made. The traders came in again and boats plied up -and down. Uncle Gaspard was very busy, and the men about said, making -money. The women wondered if Rene de Longueville would get it all, and -what old Antoine Freneau had; if so she would be a great heiress. - -There were nuts to gather as well, and merry parties haunted the woods -for them. Oh, what glorious days these were, quite enough to inspirit -any one! Then without much warning a great fleecy wrap of snow fell over -everything, but the sledging and the shouting had as much merriment in -it. - -Gaspard Denys did not want Rene to go to midnight mass at -Christmastide. - -"Oh, I am so much bigger and stronger now," she said. "I am not going to -be such a baby as to take cold. Oh, you will see." - -She carried her point, of course. He could seldom refuse her anything. -And the next morning she was bright enough to go to church again. And -how sweet it was to see the children stop on the porch and with bowed -heads exclaim, "Your blessing, ma mre, your blessing, mon pre," and -shake hands with even the poorest, giving them good wishes. - -Then all parties went home to a family breakfast. Even the servants were -called in. Then the children ran about with the trennes to each other. - -"Uncle Gaspard," Rene said, "I want to take something to my -grandfather. He brought me that beautiful chain and cross last year, and -I made a cake that Mre Lunde baked, and candied some pears, thinking of -him." - -"Perhaps he is not home. You can never tell." - -"He was yesterday. M. Marchand saw him. Will you go?" - -"You had better have Mre Lunde. I am busy. But if I can find time I -will walk down and meet you. And--Rene, do not go in." - -"I will heed," she answered smilingly. - -The road was hardly broken outside the stockade. Once or twice she -slipped and fell into the snow, but it was soft and did not hurt her. -Mre Lunde grumbled a little. - -"There is a smoke coming from the chimney," Rene cried joyfully. "Let -us go around to the kitchen door." - -They knocked two or three times. They could hear a stir within, and -presently the door was opened a mere crack. - -"Grandfather," the child began, "I have come to wish you a good -Christmas. I am sorry you were not at church to hear how the little babe -Jesus was born for our sakes, and how glad all the stars were, even, so -glad that they sang together. And I have brought you some small gifts, a -cake I made for you, alone, yesterday. You made me such a beautiful gift -last year when I was ill." - -"And you've come for another! That's always the way," he returned -gruffly. - -"No, grandfather, I do not want anything, only to give you this basket -with good wishes and tell you that I am well and happy," she said in a -proud, sweet voice, and set the basket down on the stone at the doorway. -"It would not be quite right for you to give me anything this year." - -Her gray fur cloak covered her, and her white fur cap over her fair -curls gave her a peculiar daintiness. - -"Good-by," she continued, "with many good wishes." - -He looked after her in a kind of dazed manner. And she did not want -anything! True, she had enough. Gaspard Denys took good care of her--_he_ -was too old to be bothered with a child. - -But she skipped along very happily. The Marchands were coming in to -supper, and in the meanwhile she and Mre Lunde would concoct dainty -messes. She would not go out sledding with the children lest she should -take cold again. - -It was all festival time now. It seemed as if people had nothing to do -but to be gay and merry. Fiddling and singing everywhere, and some of -the voices would have been bidden up to a high price in more modern -times. - -And on New Year's day the streets were full of young men who went from -door to door singing a queer song, she thought, when she came to know it -well afterward. Part of it was, "We do not ask for much, only the eldest -daughter of the house. We will give her the finest of the wine and feast -her and keep her feet warm," which seemed to prefigure the dance a few -days hence. Sometimes the eldest daughter would come out with a -contribution, and these were all stored away to be kept for the Epiphany -ball. - -In the evening they sang love songs at the door or window of the young -lady to whom they were partial, and if the fancy was returned or -welcomed the fair one generally made some sign. And then they said -good-night to the master and mistress of the household and wished them a -year's good luck. - -If a pretty girl or even a plain one was out on New Year's day -unattended, a young fellow caught her, kissed her, and wished her a -happy marriage and a prosperous year. Sometimes, it was whispered, there -had a hint been given beforehand and the right young fellow found the -desired girl. - -But the king's ball was the great thing. In the early afternoon the -dames and demoiselles met and the gifts were arranged for the evening. -Of the fruit and flour a big cake was baked in which were put four large -beans. When all was arranged the girls and the mothers donned their best -finery, some of it half a century old, and kept only for state -occasions. The older people opened the ball with the _minuet de la -cour_, which was quite grand and formal. - -Then the real gayety began. With it all there was a certain charming -respect, a kind of fine breeding the French never lost. Old gentlemen -danced with the young girls, and the young men with matrons. Children -were allowed in also, and had corners to themselves. It was said of them -that the French were born dancing. - -There were no classes in this festivity. Even some of the upper kind of -slaves came, and the young Indians ventured in. - -Gaspard Denys took the little girl, who was all eagerness. M. and Madame -Garreau brought their guests, the Marchands, for society had quite taken -in the beautiful young Indian, who held her head up so proudly no one -would have dared to offer her a slight. - -Among the gayest was Barbe Guion. She had not taken young Maurice, who -had gone off to New Orleans. People were beginning to say that she was a -bit of a coquette. Madame Renaud announced that Alphonse Maurice was too -trifling and not steady enough for a good husband. In her heart Barbe -knew that she had never really meant to marry him. - -At midnight the cake was cut and every young girl had a piece. This was -the great amusement, and everybody thronged about. - -"A bean! a bean!" cried Manon Dupont, holding it high above her head so -all could see. - -Then another, one of the pretty Aubry girls, whose sister had been -married at Easter. - -"And I, too," announced Barbe Guion, laughing. - -They cleared a space for the four queens to stand out on the floor. What -eager glances the young men cast. - -Manon Dupont chose her lover, as every one supposed she would, but there -was no fun or surprise in it, though a general assent. - -"And how will she feel at the next ball when _he_ has to choose a -queen?" said some one. "She is a jealous little thing." - -Ma'm'selle Aubry glanced around with a coquettish air and selected the -handsomest young fellow in the room. - -Who would Barbe Guion choose? She looked dainty enough in a white -woollen gown with scarlet cloth bands; and two or three masculine hearts -beat with a thump, as the eyes fairly besought. - -Gaspard Denys was talking with the burly commandant of the fort, though -it must be admitted there was very little to command. She went over to -him and handed him her rose. - -He bowed and a slight flush overspread his face, while her eyes could -not conceal her delight. - -"You do me a great deal of honor, ma'm'selle, but you might have -bestowed your favor on a younger and more suitable man. I thank you for -the compliment," and he pinned the rose on his coat. - -She smiled with a softened light in her eyes. - -"It is the first time I have had a chance to choose a king," she said in -a caressing sort of voice. "I could not have suited myself better. And--I -am almost eighteen. Elise was married a year before that." - -"You are not single for lack of admirers, ma'm'selle." She remembered he -used to call her Barbe. "What did you do with Alphonse, send him away -with a broken heart?" - -"His was not the kind of heart to break, monsieur. And a girl cannot -deliberately choose bad luck. There is sorrow enough when it comes -unforeseen." - -Then they took their places. Rene had been very eager at first and -watched the two closely. M. Marchand had appealed to her on some trifle, -and now she saw Barbe and Uncle Gaspard take their places in the dance. - -"Did she--choose Uncle Gaspard?" the child exclaimed with a long -respiration that was like a sigh, while a flush overspread her face. - -"He is the finest man in the room! I would have chosen him myself if I -had been a maid. And if you had been sixteen wouldn't you have taken -him, little girl? Well, your day will come," in a gay tone. - -Wawataysee placed her arm over the child's shoulder. "Let us go around -here, we can see them better. What an odd way to do! And very pretty, -too!" - -Rene's first feeling was that she would not look. Then with a quick -inconsequence she wanted to see every step, every motion, every glance. -Her king! Barbe Guion had chosen him, and the child's eyes flashed. - -It was a beautiful dance, and the gliding, skimming steps of light feet -answered the measure of the music exquisitely. Other circles formed. The -kings and the queens were not to have it all to themselves. - -The balls were often kept up till almost morning, though the children -and some of the older people went home. Gaspard made his way through the -crowd. Madame Marchand beckoned him, and as he neared them he saw Rene -was clinging to her with a desperate emotion next to tears. - -"Is it not time little ones were in bed?" she asked with her fascinating -smile and in pretty, broken French. "Madame Garreau wishes to retire. It -is beautiful, and every one is so cordial. I have danced with delight," -and her pleasure shone in her eyes. "But we will take the child safe to -Mre Lunde if it is your will." - -"Oh, thank you. Yes. You will go, Rene? You look tired." She was pale -and her eyes were heavy. - -"And you--you stay here and are Ma'm'selle Barbe's king," she said in a -tone of plaintive reproach that went to his heart. - -"That is only for to-night. There are other queens beside her." - -"But she is _your_ queen." The delicate emphasis amused him, it betrayed -the rankling jealousy. - -"And you are my queen as well, to-morrow, next week, all the time. So do -not grudge her an hour or two. See, I am going to give you her rose, -_my_ rose, to take home with you." - -She smiled, albeit languidly, and held out her small hand, grasping it -with triumph. - -He broke the stem as he drew it out, leaving the pin in his coat. - -"Now let me see you wrapped up snug and tight. Mind you don't get any -cold. Tell Mre Lunde to warm the bed and give you something hot to -drink." - -She nodded and the party went to the dressing room. The two Indian women -chattered in their own language, or rather in a patois that they had -adopted. Wawataysee was very happy, and her soft eyes shone with -satisfaction. Her husband thought her the prettiest woman in all St. -Louis. - -Rene gave her orders and Mre Lunde attended to them cheerfully. - -"For if you should fall ill again our hearts would be heavy with sorrow -and anxiety." she said. - -Rene had carried the rose under her cloak and it was only a little -wilted. She put it in some water herself, and brought the stand near the -fireplace, for sometimes it would freeze on the outer edges of the room, -though they kept a big log fire all night. - -Gaspard went back to Ma'm'selle Barbe. - -"Oh, your rose!" she cried. "Where is it?" - -He put his hand to his coat as if he had not known it. "The pin is -left," he said. "What a crowd there is! St. Louis is getting overrun -with people," laughing gayly. "Give me a rose out of your nosegay, for -it would signify bad luck to go on the floor without it." - -He took one and fastened it in his coat again, and they were soon -merrily dancing. There was no absolute need of changing partners, and -the queens were proud of keeping their admirers all the evening. - -Barbe was delighted and happy, for Gaspard evinced no disposition to -stray off, and danced to her heart's content, if not his. He had grown -finer looking, certainly, since he had relinquished the hardships of a -trapper's life. His complexion had lost the weather-beaten look, his -frame had filled out, and strangely enough, he was a much more ready -talker. Rene chattered so much, asked him so many questions, and made -him talk over people and places he had seen that it had given him a -readiness to talk to women. Men could always find enough to say to each -other, or enjoy silence over their pipes. - -She seemed to grow brighter instead of showing fatigue, and her voice -had musical cadences in it very sweet to hear. The touch of her hand on -his arm or his shoulder in the dance did give him a peculiar sort of -thrill. She was a very sweet, pretty girl. He was glad not to have her -wasted on Alphonse Maurice. - -But the delicious night came to an end for her. There was a curious -little strife among some of the young men to make a bold dash and -capture a queen. The girls were sometimes willing enough to be caught. -Barbe had skilfully evaded this, he noted. - -"Ma'm'selle Guion has the bravest king of them all," said a neighbor. -"He is a fine fellow. I wonder, Mre Renaud, you do not fan the flame -into a blaze. He is prospering, too. Colonel Chouteau speaks highly of -him and holds out a helping hand. If I had daughters no one would suit -me better." - -Madame Renaud smiled and nodded as if she had a secret confidence. - -Mothers in old St. Louis were very fond and proud of their daughters and -were watchful of good opportunities for them. And those who had none -rather envied them. It was the cordial family affection that made life -in these wilderness places delightful. - -Barbe was being wound up in her veil so that her pretty complexion -should suffer no ill at this coldest hour of the twenty-four, after -being heated in the dance. She looked very charming, very tempting. If -he had been a lover he would have kissed her. - -"You come so seldom now," she said in a tone of seductive complaint. -"And we were always such friends when you returned from your journeys. -The children have missed you so much. And Lisa wonders--" - -"I suppose it is being busy every day. At that time you know there was a -holiday between." - -"But there is no business now until spring opens," in a pleading tone. - -"Except for the householder, the shopkeeper. Oh, you have no idea how -ingenious I have become. And the men drop in to talk over plans and -berate the Governor because things are not in better shape. We would -fare badly in an attack." - -"Are we in any danger from the British?" - -"One can never tell. Perhaps they may take up Pontiac's wild dream of -driving us over the mountains into the sea. No," with a short laugh, "I -am not much afraid. And our Indians are friendly also." - -"Come, Barbe," counselled Madame Renaud, but she took her husband's arm -and marched on ahead like an astute general. - -Barbe clung closely to her attendant, for in some places it was -slippery. - -"Next time you will transfer your attentions," she said with a touch of -regret. "I wonder who will be your queen for a night?" - -"The prettiest girl," he said gayly. - -"Madame Marchand is beautiful." - -"But she is no longer a girl." - -"Oh, no. You see a good deal of her, though?" - -"They are over often. We are excellent friends." - -"Rene is quite bewitched with her." - -"Yes, they are very fond of each other." - -And somehow she, Barbe, was no more fond of the child than the child was -of her. - -Madame Renaud studied her sister's face as they were unwinding their -wraps. It was rather pale, not flushed and triumphant as she hoped. - -Gaspared Denys stirred the fire in his shop and threw himself on a pile -of skins and was asleep in five minutes. It had been a long while since -he had danced all night. - -They all slept late. There was no need of stirring early in the morning. -They made no idol of industry, as the energetic settlers on the eastern -coast did. Pleasure and happiness were enough for them. It ran in the -French blood. - -When Gaspard woke he heard a sound of an eager chattering voice. He -rubbed his limbs and stretched himself, looked down on his red sash and -then saw a withered red rose that he tossed in the fire. - -"Ah, little one, you are as blithe as a bee," was his greeting. - -"Oh, Uncle Gaspard, you have on your ball clothes. When did you come -home?" she asked. - -"I dropped asleep in them. I am old and stiff this morning. I tumbled -down on a pile of skins and stayed there." - -"You don't look very old. And--are you a king now?" rather curiously. - -"I must be two weeks hence. Then I resign my sceptre, and become an -ordinary person." - -"And Mre Lunde said you had to choose a new queen." There was a touch -of elation in her voice. - -"That is so. And I told Ma'm'selle Guion I should look out for the very -prettiest girl. I shall be thinking all the time." - -"I wish you could take Wawataysee. She is the prettiest of anybody, and -the sweetest." - -"And she has already chosen her king for life." - -"The breakfast will get cold," warned Mre Lunde. - -There were more snows, days when you could hardly stir out and paths had -to be shovelled. The next ball night it stormed, but Rene did not care -to go, because M. and Madame Marchand were staying all night and they -would play games and have parched corn and cakes and spiced drinks. -Wawataysee would sing, too. And though the songs were odd, she had an -exquisite voice, and she could imitate almost any bird, as well as the -wind flying and shrieking through the trees, and then softening with -sounds of spring. - -Sometimes they danced together, and it was a sight to behold, the very -impersonation of grace; soft, languid mazes at first and then warming -into flying sprites of the forest. And how Rene's eyes shone and her -cheeks blossomed, while the little moccasined feet made no more sound -than a mouse creeping about. - -There was no especial carnival at St. Louis, perhaps a little more -gayety than usual, and the dances winding up at midnight. Nearly every -one went to church the next morning, listened to the prayers reverently, -had a small bit of ashes dropped on his or her head, went home and -fasted the rest of the day. But Lent was not very strictly kept, and the -maids were preparing for Easter weddings. - -"It is strange," said grandaunt Guion, "that Barbe has no lover. She is -too giddy, too much of a coquette. She will be left behind. And she is -too pretty to turn into an old maid. Guion girls were not apt to hang on -hand." - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - -THE SURPRISE - - -There was, it is true, a side not so simple and wholesome, and this had -been gathering slowly since the advent of the governor. More drunken men -were seen about the levee. There was talk of regular orgies taking place -at the government house, and the more thoughtful men, like the -Chouteaus, the Guerins, the Guions, and the Lestourniers, had to work -hard to get the fortifications in any shape, and the improvements made -were mostly done by private citizens. - -Of course there were many rumors, but old St. Louis rested securely on -her past record. What the people about her were losing or gaining did -not seem to trouble her. Now and then a river pirate was caught, or -there was some one tripped up and punished who had traded unlawfully. - -This had been the case with a French Canadian named Ducharme, who had -been caught violating the treaty law, trading with Indians in Spanish -territory, and giving them liberal supplies of rum in order to make -better bargains with furs. His goods were seized and confiscated, but he -was allowed to go his way, breathing threats of retaliation. - -France had recognized the independence of the colonies, which had -stirred up resentment in the minds of many of the English in northern -Michigan. It was said an English officer at Michilimackinac had formed a -plan of seizing or destroying some of the western towns and stations -where there was likely to be found booty enough to reward them. Ducharme -joined the scheme eagerly and gathered roving bands of Ojibways. -Winnebagoes and Sioux, and by keeping well to the eastern side of the -Mississippi marched down nearly opposite Gabaret Island, and crossed -over to attack the town. - -Corpus Christi was a great festival day of the church. Falling late in -May, on the 25th, it was an out-of-doors entertainment. After mass had -been said in the morning, women and children, youths and maidens, and -husbands who could be spared from business, went out for a whole day's -pleasure with baskets and bags of provisions. - -The day was magnificent. The fragrance of spruce and fir, the breath of -the newly grown grasses, the bloom of trees and flowers, was like the -most exhilarating perfume, and stirred all the senses. - -Spies had crept down the woods to reconnoitre and assure themselves -their arrival had not been suspected. It seemed indeed an opportune -moment. It was now mid-afternoon. There had been dancing and merriment, -the children had run and played, gathered wild strawberries and flowers, -and some of the more careful ones had collected their little children -and started homeward. - -To the westward was Cardinal Spring, owned by a man of that name, but -considered free property. He and another hunter had been shooting game, -and as he stooped for a drink his companion espied an Indian cautiously -creeping through the trees. - -"Indians! Indians!" he shouted, and fired. - -Cardinal snatched up his gun, but a storm of bullets felled him. Rivire -was captured. A young Frenchman, catching sight of the body of Indians, -gave the alarm. - -"Run for your lives! Fly to the fort!" he shouted. - -There were men working in the fields, and nearly every one took his gun, -as much for the chance at game as any real fear of Indians. They covered -the retreat a little, and as this was a reconnoitring party, the main -body was at some distance. - -"Fly! Fly!" Men who had no weapons caught little ones in their arms and -ran toward the fort. All was wild alarm. - -"What is it?" cried Colonel Chouteau, who had been busy with some papers -of importance. - -"The Indians! The Indians!" shouted his brother. - -"Call out the militia! Where is the Governor?" - -"In his own house, drunk as usual," cried Pierre indignantly, and he ran -to summon the soldiers. - -There had been a small body of troops under the command of Captain -Cartabona, a Spaniard sent from Ste. Genevieve at the urgent request of -the chief citizens, but it being a holiday they were away, some canoeing -down the river or fishing, and of the few to be found most of them were -panic stricken. The captain had been having a carouse with the Governor. - -"Then we must be our own leaders. To arms! to arms! every citizen! It is -for your wives and children!" was the inspiriting cry. - -"You shall be our leader!" was shouted in one voice almost before the -Colonel had ceased. For Colonel Chouteau was not only admired for his -friendliness and good comradeship, but trusted to the last degree. - -Every man rushed for his gun and ran to the rescue, hardly knowing what -had happened save that the long-feared attack had come upon them -unawares. They poured out of the fort, but the flying women and children -were in the advance with the Indians back of them. - -Colonel Chouteau marshalled his little force in a circuitous movement, -and opened a volley that took the Indians by surprise. They fell back -brandishing their arms and shouting to their companions to come on. Then -the Colonel saw that it was no mere casual attack, but a premeditated -onslaught. Already bodies were lying on the ground struggling in death -agonies. - -The aim was so good that the assailants halted, then fell back to wait -for their companions. This gave most of the flying and terrified throng -an opportunity to reach the fort. For the wounded nothing could be done -at present. - -Now the streets were alive with men who had no time to pick out their -own families, but ran, musket or rifle in hand, to man the fort. Colonel -Chouteau and his brother Pierre were experienced artillerists, and -stationed themselves at the cannon. - -The Indians held a brief colloquy with the advancing body. Then it was -seen that an attack was determined upon. They approached the fort, -headed by several white leaders, and opened an irregular fire on the -place. - -"Let them approach nearer," commanded the Colonel. The walls of the -stockade and the roofs of the nearest houses were manned with the -residents of the town. A shower of arrows fell among them. Surprised at -no retaliation, the enemy ventured boldly, headed by Ducharme. - -Then the cannons poured out their volley, which swept down the foremost. -From the roofs muskets and guns and even pistols made a continuing -chorus. Ducharme fell. Two of the white leaders were wounded also. Then -another discharge from the cannons and the red foes fell back. The plan -had been to wait until almost dusk for the attack, but the incident at -the spring had hastened it. - -Ducharme had not counted on the strength of the fort, and he knew the -town was but poorly supplied with soldiers, so he had persuaded the -Indians it would fall an easy prey and give them abundant pillage. But -the roar and the execution of the cannon dismayed them, and many of them -fled at once. Others marched slowly, helping some of the wounded. - -General Cartabona came out quite sobered by the fierceness of the -attack. - -"Would it not be well to order a pursuit?" he questioned. - -"And perhaps fall into a trap!" returned Colonel Chouteau with a touch -of scorn. "No, no; let us bring in the wounded as we can." - -Gaspard Denys had been among the first to rush to the defence of the -town. Marchand had gone out with the party, and Mre Lunde was to care -for Rene. He had not stopped to look or inquire. He saw Madame Renaud. - -"Oh, thank heaven my children are safe! But Barbe! I cannot find Barbe!" -she cried. - -"And Rene?" his voice was husky. - -"She was with the Marchands. They were going to the woods. Oh, M'sieu -Denys, what a horrible thing! And we felt so safe. The Indians have been -so friendly. But can you trust them?" - -He was off to look after the wounded. A number were lying dead on the -field. No, Rene was not among them. They carried the wounded in gently, -the dead reverently. The good priest proffered his services, and Dr. -Montcrevier left his beloved experiments to come and minister to them. -The dead were taken to the church and the priest's house. - -All was confusion, however. Darkness fell before families were reunited. -Children hid away in corners crying, and were too terrified to come out -even at the summons of friendly voices. Colonel Chouteau and his brother -were comforting, aiding, exhorting, and manning the fort anew. General -Cartabona set guards at the gates and towers, for no one knew what might -happen before morning. - -Denys had hurried home as soon as he could be released. "Rene!" he -called. "Mre Lunde!" but no one replied. He searched every nook and -corner. He asked the Pichous. No one had seen them. A great pang rent -his heart. And yet--they might have hidden in the forest. Ah, God send -that they might not be taken prisoners! But Marchand was with them. He -knew the man's courage well. He would fight to the death for them. - -"I must go out and search," he said in a desperate tone. "Who will -accompany me?" - -A dozen volunteered. They were well armed, and carried a rude lantern -made of tin with a glass in one side only. They saw now that their fire -had done good execution among their red foes. The trampled ground showed -which way the party had gone, and they were no longer in sight. - -"Let us try the woods. They came by the way of the spring," said one of -the party. - -They found the body of Cardinal and that of an old man, both dead. They -plunged into the woods, and, though aware of the danger, Denys shouted -now and then, but no human voice replied. Here, there, examining some -thicket, peering behind a clump of trees, startling the denizen of the -woods, or a shrill-voiced nighthawk, and then all was silence again. - -They left the woods and crossed the strip of prairie. Here lay something -in the grass--a body. Denys turned it over. - -"My God!" he exclaimed in a voice of anguish. "It is Franois Marchand." - -He dropped on the ground overwhelmed. If he was dead, then the others -were prisoners. There was no use to search farther to-night. To-morrow a -scouting party might go out. - -They made a litter of the men's arms and carried Marchand back to the -fort, to find that he was not dead, though he had a broken leg and had -received a tremendous blow on the head. - -A sad morning dawned over St. Louis, where yesterday all had been joy. -True, it might have been much worse. In all about a dozen had been -killed, but the wounded and those who had fallen and been crushed in the -flight counted up many more. And some were missing. What would be their -fate? And oh, what would happen to Wawataysee if some roving Indian -should recognize her! As for Rene, if he had not wholly understood -before, he knew now how the child had twined herself about his heart, -how she had become a part of his life. - -Marchand's blow was a dangerous one. The Garreaus insisted upon nursing -and caring for him, but Madame Garreau was wild about the beautiful -Wawataysee. She knew the Indian character too well to think they would -show her any mercy, if she was recognized by any of the tribe. And -Rene, what would be her fate? - -General Cartabona was most anxious to make amends for past negligence. -The militia was called to a strict account and recruited as rapidly as -possible, and the fortifications made more secure. He took counsel with -Colonel Chouteau, who had the best interests of the town at heart. - -"We must make an appeal for the Governor's removal," insisted the -Colonel. "It is not only this cowardly episode, but he is narrow-minded -and avaricious, incompetent in every respect, and drunk most of the -time. He cares nothing for the welfare of the town, he takes no interest -in its advancement. After such men as Piernas and Cruzat he is most -despicable. Any Frenchman born would serve Spain better." - -"That is true. I will head a petition of ejectment, and make it strong -enough to be heeded." - -The dead were buried, the living cared for. Even the fallen enemies had -been given decent sepulture outside the town. And Gaspard Denys felt -that he must start on his journey of rescue, if indeed that was -possible. - -He chose two trusty young fellows, after shutting his house securely, -providing his party with ammunition, and provisions for a part of their -journey, as much as they could carry. He found the Indians had boats in -waiting on the Illinois River, and after proceeding some distance they -had separated in two parties, going in different directions. Some of the -prisoners had been left here, as they did not care to be bothered with -them. - -The one party kept on up the river. They learned there were some women -with them, and were mostly Indians. It was not an easy trail to follow. -There had been a quarrel and another separation, a drunken debauch, part -stopping at an Indian village. And here Denys heard what caused him -almost a heart-break. - -They had fallen in with some Hurons who had bought two of the captives. -An old woman was set free with two men and sent down the river. The -others were going up north. - -"It is as I feared, Jaques," he said. "They will carry Madame Marchand -to her old home as a great prize. Ah, if Franois were only well! But I -shall go on for life or death. I will not ask you to share my perils. -Wawataysee came from somewhere up by the straits. She ran away with -Marchand. She was to be married to an old Indian against her will. And -no doubt he will be wild with gratification at getting her back, and -will treat her cruelly. The child is mine and I must save her from a -like fate. But you and Pierre may return. I will not hold you bound by -any promises." - -"I am in for the adventure," and Pierre laughed, showing his white -teeth. "I am not a coward nor a man to eat one's words. I am fond of -adventure. I will go on." - -"I, too," responded Jaques briefly. - -"You are good fellows, both of you. I shall pray for your safe return," -Denys said, much moved by their devotion. - -"And we have no sweethearts," subjoined Pierre with a touch of mirth. -"But if I could find one as beautiful and sweet as Madame Marchand I -should be paid for a journey up to Green Bay." - -"It might be dangerous," said Denys sadly. - -He wondered if it was really Mre Lunde they had set free. It would be -against her will, he was sure, and it would leave the two quite -defenceless. A thousand remembrances haunted him day and night. He could -see Rene's soft brown eyes in the dusk, he could hear her sweet voice -in the gentle zephyrs, that changed and had no end of fascinating tones. -All her arch, pretty moods came up before him, her little piquant -jealousies, her pretty assumptions of dignity and power, her dainty, -authoritative ways. Oh, he could not give her up, his little darling. - -There was sorrow in more than one household in old St. Louis, but time -softened and healed it. And now the inhabitants congratulated themselves -on their freedom heretofore from raids like these. Towns had been -destroyed, prisoners had been treated to almost every barbarity. Giving -up their lives had not been the worst. - -But the summer came on gloriously, and Colonel Chouteau made many plans -for the advancement of the town. He was repairing the old house where -his friend had lived, and improving the grounds, and everyone felt that -in him they had a true friend. - -One July day three worn and weary people came in at the northern gate, -and after the guards had looked sharply at them there was a shout of -joy. Pierre Duchesne, whose family had lived on a faint hope, young -Normand Fleurey, and Mre Lunde, looking a decade older and more -wrinkled than ever. - -She sat down on a stone and wept while the sounds of joy and -congratulation were all about her. - -Who could give her any comfort? She suffered Gaspard Denys's pain as -well as her own. And though there had been adventures and hiding from -roving Indians, living on barks and roots, she could not tell them over -while her heart was so sore. - -She went to the old house, where the three had known so much content. - -"He will come back some day," she said, "but the child--" and her voice -would break at that. - -She heard Marchand had been very ill with a fever, beside the wounds. He -had come near to losing his leg, and was still a little lame, and very -weak and heartbroken. His wife had been torn from his arms when an -Indian had given him the blow on his head with a club, and there memory -had stopped. Though Mre Lunde would talk to no one else, to him she -told the sad story. And he had been lying helpless all the time -Wawataysee had been in such danger! Yes, he knew what would happen to -her now, but presently he would go up to the strait and never rest until -he had killed all who worked her ill. Oh, if she had fallen into the -hands of her old tribe! - -That thought was madness. But he understood what the courage of her -despair would be. She would not suffer any degradation, death would be a -boon instead. Ah, if he could have joined Denys! He knew the cruelty and -treachery of those whose hands she had fallen into. And the child! - -But it would be useless to start disabled as he was, although his anger -was fierce enough, and Denys was well on the journey. Yet it was -terrible to wait with awful visions before his eyes. He had seen both -men and women tortured, and the agonies prolonged with fiendish delight. - -Mre Lunde opened the house and cleared up the dust and disorder. The -garden was overgrown with weeds and everything was running riot. -Marchand insisted upon lending a helping hand here. Many an evening they -sat in the doorway wondering, hoping and despairing. - - - - -CHAPTER IX - -PRISONERS - - -The wild cry of "The Indians! the Indians!" had roused a small group -from their desultory enjoyment. They were pouring down in what seemed a -countless throng. Marchand had no weapon except his knife. - -"Run," he cried. "Make for the fort! Keep at the edge of the wood while -we can!" - -Wawataysee seized Rene's hand. The Indian girl was as fleet as a deer. -She could have saved herself, but she would not leave the child. They -had now reached the open. All was screams and confusion and flying -fugitives. - -A tall Indian was behind them with a club. Wawataysee gave a wild shriek -and the next instant stumbled over her husband's prostrate body. The -Indian rushed on. - -"Oh!" cried Rene in wild affright, standing still in terror, the flying -crowd like swirling leaves before her eyes. - -The sharp crack of a rifle made her spring back. Were both killed now? -But Wawataysee moved, groaned. - -"They have shot him now, my beloved!" She raised the bleeding head and -pressed it to her bosom. "Oh, he has been killed, I know. Why did I not -die with him? Oh, Rene--" - -Escape now was as impossible as succor. The Indian girl moaned over her -husband, and made a futile attempt to drag him back to the edge of the -wood to hide him. But suddenly she was violently wrenched away, and an -Indian with a hand hold of each began to run with them toward the river. -At last Rene fell and he had to pause. Meanwhile the firing from the -fort had begun with its execution. - -Wawataysee began to plead with her captor, who turned a deaf ear to her -entreaties. Rene was crying in a desperate fashion, from both fright -and fatigue. He raised his club, but the young wife clasped the child in -her arms. - -"Kill us both," she exclaimed, "as you have already killed my husband." - -"White man?" with a grunt. "Squaw woman. Make some Indian glad." Other -prisoners were being brought in this direction, and among them Mre -Lunde, who had started to reach the fort and bear the tidings to -Gaspard. - -"Oh, my dear child," she cried. "The good God help us. They are trying -to take the town." And she almost fell at their feet. - -Then they were marched on, the Indian guards behind with clubs and -tomahawks, now and then goaded by a light blow that would not disable. -The cries grew fainter, though they still heard the roar of the cannon. - -And now the sun was slanting westward and the trees cast long shadows, -the sound of the river fell on their ears mingled with the homeward song -of birds. The heat began to wane, the air was dewy sweet. - -It was almost dusk when they reached the boats, and they were bidden to -get in and were conveyed to the opposite shore. Here they were bound -together, two and two, with their hands fastened behind them. One Indian -was detailed to watch them while the others took the boats back. - -Ducharme's arm hung helplessly by his side, and the English renegades -began to upbraid him, while the Indians, seeing that no pillage was -possible and no gain could be made, drew away sullenly and began to -march toward the rendezvous, leaving some of their own badly wounded -behind. It was midnight before they rejoined the others. Then, fearing -pursuit, they started up the river again, rousing those who had fallen -asleep. All told they had barely thirty prisoners, and had left as many -of their own behind. - -Mre Lunde had been allowed near the two girls, and now they huddled -together in the boat. Rene had fallen asleep again. - -"You do not know where they will take us?" Mre Lunde inquired. - -Wawataysee shook her head. "They will go up the Illinois River," she -whispered. - -"Do you think they will not follow?" in a low, desperate tone. "Master -Denys and--" - -"Oh, _he_ is dead," with a heart-breaking moan. "I held him to my heart -and he made no stir, I kissed his cold lips and there was no warmth. But -for the sweet child I should have begged them to kill me too, so that my -spirit should be with his. If she could be restored safely, my own life -I would hold as nothing." - -"They have started ere this. Do not despair," and her lips were close to -the Indian girl's ear. - -"Then I shall thank the Great Spirit for the child's sake." Heaven grant -they might be rescued. - -The stir and lap of the river and the boats had a mysterious sound in -the weird darkness. Then the cry of some wild animal or a bit of wind -sweeping through the trees at the edge, here and there. The stars shone -out overhead. Mre Lunde dropped asleep also. But Wawataysee sat with -wide-open eyes. One moment she said to herself that he could not be -dead, the next his white face and half-closed, dulled eyes were against -her breast. She felt as if she must shriek and tear her hair, but there -was the Indian's self-control, and the thought of her companions who -might be made to suffer for her. But she could not go out of life for -her own satisfaction merely, unless it came to the martyrdom worse than -death, for the child was a sacred charge. Gaspard Denys would go to the -death, even, for both of them, and she was grateful for all the kindness -and countenance he had given her at St. Louis. - -They turned up a small stream, tributary to the Illinois. At noon they -drew the boats up to what looked like an impenetrable brushwood, and -disembarked, pulling in the boats and canoes. There was a sort of -trodden path through the wild shrubbery, and tangled vines overhung it. -Two of the Indians went ahead, the prisoners were driven next, and the -rest of the party brought up the rear. - -"Oh, where are we going?" cried Rene in affright, clutching -Wawataysee's dress with both hands. - -The girl shook her head. - -They were stiff from their cramped position in the boats and faint from -hunger. Now and then one received a blow and an admonition to hurry on. -At length they came in sight of a clearing, an Indian settlement, with -wigwams and a space planted with corn. Women were moving about over -their fires, children playing or stretched out in the sun. Skins were -tacked from tree to tree drying, and several women were busy making -garments and leggings, some young girls cutting fringes. It was a -pretty, restful scene to the tired travellers. - -An old man rose, it almost seemed from the earth itself. He was thin and -gaunt, hollow-cheeked and wrinkled to the last degree. From his attire -and his head-dress of feathers one could gather that he was the chief of -the small settlement. - -"Why all this warlike array and these prisoners?" he asked sharply. "We -are at peace with our white brothers. We have gathered in the remnant of -our tribe, we have few young braves among us, we are mostly women and -children. We have nothing to be despoiled of, we do no hunting save for -ourselves." - -"We want only a little food and rest, good father Neepawa. We will not -molest you and yours. We are going up to the Great Lakes. We have been -led astray by a white chief who promised us much plunder, but the town -was too strong for us. He has gone south to one of the English forts and -taken some of his followers, leaving the prisoners with us. Give us some -food and we will go on." - -Their request was acceded to, but with no special cordiality. The thing -they would most have liked was whiskey, but that was not to be supplied -at this simple Indian village. - -"Oh, if we could stay here!" sighed Rene. "Do you know where they mean -to take us?" and her eyes dilated with fear. - -"Only that we are going farther north." - -Wawataysee was fain to have some conversation with the Indian women, but -she soon saw that every effort was adroitly frustrated. Still, they were -fed abundantly and some provisions given the party. They reembarked late -in the afternoon and made their way down to the Illinois River and up -farther on their journey, until their provisions were gone, when they -were obliged to land again. - -After foraging about awhile they met a party of Indians and traders -quite plentifully supplied with whiskey. This led to quarrels and -disputes. A number of them were tired of having the prisoners to feed, -and had changed their minds about going north. They were roving Indians -who had no strong ties anywhere. Half a dozen decided to cast in their -lot with the traders. - -And now those going on picked out the most likely of the prisoners. Some -of the strong young men who would be useful in the capacity of slaves, -one half-breed woman who had astuteness enough to make herself of -account in preparing food and did not resent the small indignities -offered. - -As they marched down to the river's edge these were first put on the -boat. Then Wawataysee and the child. Mre Lunde started to follow, but -was rudely thrust back. - -"I must, I must!" she shrieked, struggling with her captor; "I must stay -with the child!" - -"Push off!" was the command. Three Indians stepped in and the boat was -propelled out in the stream. Then Wawataysee saw what had happened and -half rose, crying wildly that they should take on the poor creature -begging in her desperation. - -"She is ours! We cannot do without her!" - -The Indian pushed her down on her seat and uttered a rough threat. - -"Oh, what will they do with her?" shrieked Rene. - -A blow was the only answer. Rene fell into her companion's lap sobbing -wildly. Wawataysee tried to soothe and comfort her. But she felt -strangely defenceless. The half-breed she mistrusted. If there could be -some escape! She studied every point. They were no longer bound, but out -here on the river one could do nothing. - -So passed another night and day and a second night. No place of refuge -had been found in their brief landings. But they reached another -settlement, not as orderly or inviting as that of Chief Neepawa. Still, -they were glad of a rest. And now their captors seemed undecided again. -Two or three were already tired of the journey with its hardships. - -An Indian woman found a place in her wigwam for the two girls. They were -bound at night and their keeper had strict injunctions about them. - -The Elk Horn, as one of the most authoritative Indians was called, now -assumed the command. He had an idea, that he kept quite to himself, that -he might dispose of his prisoners to some advantage, to make up in part -for the ill-advised raid on St. Louis. There were many roving Indians -about whose tribes had been decimated by wars and sickness, and who -attached themselves to the English or American cause, whichever offered -the most profit, and who liked a lawless, wandering life and plunder. - -The keeper seemed kindly disposed toward the two girls and treated them -well, though she watched them sharply. Wawataysee had been careful to -talk in a patois of broken French and the Sioux that she had picked up. -She understood nearly all that her captors said and thus held them at a -disadvantage, but she could not learn what Elk Horn's plans were, if -indeed he had any certain ones. She admitted that she had left a husband -in St. Louis, for there were moments when she could not believe him -dead, and that this was the end of their tender love! And she was young, -she had just tasted of the sweetness of it all. - -There were hours of heart-break, when it seemed as if she could not -endure Rene's prattle, and would fain shake off the soft touch on her -arm, the kisses on her forehead, for the awful, desperate want of the -other kisses, the other clasp. And oh, how strong the longing was at -times to throw herself headlong into the river and let her spirit of -love fly to that other land, that the good God provided for His -children. - -Then she would think of Gaspard Denys and his love for the little maid. -He had seen enough of the cruelty of her race to know the danger. Ah, -why had the great All-Father allowed any human beings to become such -fiends? Up in her northern home she had heard things that turned the -blood to ice. And she had been so near the white settlements. - -Yes, she must care for the little one, keep with her, befriend her, try -to restore her to her dear protector. - -It was best to claim that Rene was her little sister by adoption. If -they could only get back! Why should they go up north? What was that -more than any other place! - -The woman at this would shake her head doubtfully. Yet Wawataysee could -see that she softened, and once she asked how far it was to St. Louis, -and how one could get there. - -Wawataysee's heart beat high with hope. Yet how could two girls reach -there alone? They might meet other Indian bands who would capture them. -There were wild animals. And they might not get a canoe. They had no -money. Still, she would escape if they could and pray to the good God to -keep them safe. Often and often she and Rene comforted themselves with -the sweet, brief prayers they had learned. And oh, where was poor Mre -Lunde! - -Several days of rest were vouchsafed to them. Then one day a company of -hunters joined them, among which there were a few white prisoners as -well. One, a young fellow, strolled about with evident curiosity, and -came upon the girls in a leafy covert near the wig-wam. They were given -a little liberty by their keeper on promising by the Great Manitou they -would not attempt to escape. - -"It would be of no use," said the woman. "An alarm would be given, and -you do not know your way anywhere. Then you might be beaten when you -were captured, and confined with thongs. Have patience. Sometimes all -the braves go off to hunt." - -The young man listened to the French with delight. Two of the other -captives were English and they had conversed mostly with signs and -Indian words they had picked up. - -Rene heard a stir in the leaves and started with a little cry. The hand -was raised for silence. - -"Pardon me. I will do you no harm," he said, with an appeal in his -voice. "It was the language that sounded so sweet to me. I am French. I -come from Detroit. But we fell in with a band of Indians and only three -of us escaped unhurt. We were made prisoners." - -"And we are prisoners, too," returned Wawataysee, with a sigh. "We come -from St. Louis." - -"St. Louis! How strange! I had meant to go there. I have an uncle, -Pierre Valbonais." - -"Oh, I know!" cried Rene with delight, as if she had found a friend. -"He comes in my uncle's shop; and Uncle Gaspard likes him. They sit and -smoke together." - -"And I am Andr Valbonais. We are companions in adversity, both -prisoners. Whither are you going?" - -Wawataysee shook her head. "We do not know, m'sieu." - -He laughed softly. "How natural that sounds! I am glad to hear a -familiar voice. Neither do I know my destination. It is one thing -to-day, another to-morrow. I do not think they know themselves. Black -Feather is chief of the gang. Now and then they quarrel. He killed two -Indians not more than a week ago who wanted to have their own way, but -he has not been cruel to us. Still, I dream of escape continually." - -"Ah, if we could compass it together!" and Wawataysee's beautiful eyes -went to his very heart. - -The woman came out with her beadwork in her hand. - -"You are not of our people," she said. "You have no right here. Go your -way." - -"Perhaps not. I am a sort of compulsory guest, but I will say adieu," -and bowing, he disappeared in the shrubbery; but his last glance said he -would find them again. - -"Who was it?" The woman looked from one to the other. - -"He is French, and a prisoner. The chief is Black Feather. But the young -man comes from Detroit." - -She gave a nod, as if she knew this much already. - -Elk Horn and Black Feather had cemented a friendship over their whiskey. -They would start the next morning. The word was given to be early astir, -and the woman roused them. - -"Every step takes us farther away," said Wawataysee regretfully. Yet -they would be in the company of Valbonais, who had resolved upon escape. - -She walked slowly down to the river's edge, holding Rene by the hand. -Black Feather caught sight of her. Her tall, lithe figure, her airy -step, the poise of the head, had a touch of familiarity. Ah, yes! and -the name. The pretty Firefly had been taken away from the strait by a -white trader, and her brother had been unsuccessful in his attempt to -capture her. Ah, if this was she, then he was truly in luck! - -He did not attempt to come nearer, but saw her and the child step into -the boat. Elk Horn took command of this. Black Feather gathered his -small force together, and his boatload of treasures of different kinds -with which he could purchase supplies, and the other looked on with -envy. - -All day Black Feather watched warily, more and more certain that this -girl would prove a treasure to him if he managed rightly. He would buy -her of Elk Horn. - -"What do you know about her?" he inquired. "She comes from St. Louis. -Who was her father? for she has Indian blood, and I am sure I know her -tribe." - -Elk Horn looked amazed. "I believe she married a trader and came with -him. I will ask her." - -"No. Cannot some of the men tell you?" - -"Oh, I think so. Have you been smitten with her charms?" - -The Indian nodded, but his face showed no emotion. - -They made a rude camp for the night and proceeded to cook some supper. - -"I have found out," announced Elk Horn. "A Frenchman, Marchand, married -her. He was killed, I believe, in the assault on the town." - -"Yes, I like her. I will buy her of you. Let us make a bargain." - -"And the little one?" inquiringly. - -"Oh, I do not want her. Yet she has some beauty, according to pale-face -ideas. But no, I will take only the Indian girl." - -They ate their supper of broiled fish, and then smoked in the gathering -darkness. Elk Horn deliberated. He had not exactly thought of selling -her, though it was often done with female captives. He had two wives -now, and did not want to be burdened with a third who was a helpless -young girl. Wives were for profit, in his estimation. - -Black Feather was as wary. He was not sure he wanted to marry her. She -might prove turbulent and headstrong. Half breeds were not as tractable -as Indian women. And they were not as strong. They might die on your -hands, and what, then, would one have for the bargain? - -"You will take the child. I will not part them. You can spare a trifle -more. She will soon grow up." - -Black Feather shrugged his shoulders and was silent. - -"Then there is no bargain," declared Elk Horn. "I will offer my wares to -some other chief. I think of one farther up in the Illinois country. But -our ways may be together a few days longer. It need not make ill -friends." - -Black Feather brought out some whiskey. He knew how to tempt his -brother. To have a supply of this for days would be more satisfying than -any future gain. For the present was the great thing to the Indian's -improvident nature. And so Black Feather made his bargain, including the -child that he really did not care for. Yet perhaps it would be better -not to separate them at present. - -Elk Horn had not slept off all his potion. His compeer was awake early, -and had laid aside the promised treasures for his inspection. Then he -called his men and stealthily manned his own boats. He judged rightly -that Elk Horn would not leave the place until the last drop of firewater -had been drained, and then it would take him a few days to get over his -debauch. - -"Come," he exclaimed roughly, at length. "Here is your portion--beads, -wampum, skins and whiskey." - -Elk Horn nodded and rubbed his bleared eyes. He looked at the goods and -they seemed magnified to his sight, so adroitly were they spread about. - -"Ugh! It is early," with a yawn. - -"I must be on my way. You can overtake me at night. We will share the -same fire, and I will have everything prepared for my brother. But I -wish you to rouse the two captives and have them ready also. You will -lead them to the boat, so there need be no disturbance." - -Elk Horn considered. Wawataysee might object to her new master. He felt -his part had been rather underhand, but was she not his property? - -They were a little surprised at the summons, and to be hurried off -without breakfast. The canoes were already out in the river. The larger -boat had a few men in it. Elk Horn put in Rene first. - -"Where are we going?" the Indian girl asked, turning toward him. - -"Up the river," roughly, in a thick, guttural voice. "Come, get in." - -She stepped aboard, not especially remarking the men. Then suddenly her -eye fell upon Valbonais, who greeted her with a joyous expression. Had -he been handed over to Elk Horn? She experienced a certain contentment, -and suspicion was allayed. - -But as they emerged from the shadow of the overhanging trees she saw -that all the faces were strange. She had not noted the newcomers in the -camp, having been kept in seclusion, and it also being her choice. Now a -chill of terror ran over her. Noting the aspect of two of the rowers -more closely, she saw to her dismay that they were Hurons. One man had -his head turned from her and bowed down. - -"Why do we go so early?" asked Rene. "And we have had no breakfast." - -"I do not know," tremblingly. - -"And why did Elk Horn stay on shore?" - -"Did he?" with a curious lift of the brows. - -"Oh, yes; I saw him. And these men--oh, where are Pierre and Jules? But -there is the young man who came and talked to us. Oh, Wawataysee, shall -we never stay anywhere again? How can we get back to St. Louis?" - -"Hush, dear; hush!" - -"But I am getting hungry. And I am so tired of sailing." - -She leaned her head down on Wawataysee's lap. Every moment the Indian -girl grew more terrified. True, Elk Horn and his men might come on. But -these Hurons! - -The boat glided along. The sun rose higher and made of the river a band -of gold and gems, where each little wavelet dazzled in strange colors. -They passed great plains where grass grew rank and waved in the wind -like another sea of green. Then a belt of pines or walnut, the first -standing stiff and strong, the others mound-like. - -The bowed figure had straightened itself and spoken to the men, but not -turned his face. Now he gave an order and the boat swerved in toward the -shore, grating a little on the pebbly beach. The other one in advance -turned also. Some food was distributed. He spoke in the Huron language, -and said they must make Bear Creek by night. - -It was dreadful to go out in the broiling sun again, but presently a -cooling breeze blew up. They passed a chain of boats well laden, going -down, the French sailors singing a merry lilt, and they gave each other -greeting. The shadows began to grow longer and a reviving fragrance was -wafted over from the shore edge. There were fields abloom with gay -flowers, then shrubby clumps, and when the sun went down they had neared -a little cove where one could see two rather dilapidated wigwams. Here -they were to stop for the night. - -The men began to make a fire, while provisions were brought out of the -boat. The two girls had been left alone, but now the chief--Wawataysee -knew he was that by his dress and a long black feather stuck through the -topknot of hair--turned to her. Oh, then she was quite sure she had seen -him before and her heart stood still. Yes, it was in that life she had -fled from. - -He addressed her in the Huron tongue; she answered irrelevantly in -French. A frown crossed his brow, but he handed them both out of the -boat with a firm grasp on the arm of each, and led them to the smaller -tent of the two. Some fir and hemlock branches had been thrown on the -ground and covered with a blanket. - -"You and the child will be safe here. You will be well guarded," with a -cruel little smile. "Some supper will be sent you. Compose yourself." - -She gave no sign of recognition. - -"You cannot deceive me, Firefly of the Hurons, even if some French blood -does course in your veins and you are tricked out in this attire. Your -brother's anger was kindled against you when you made him break his -word, when you ran off with a vile Frenchman. If you could have been -found justice would have been swift and sure. And now you will go back. -You will not be a wife this time, but a slave to your master and his -other wives." - -"I am a wife already," she answered proudly in his language, since it -was no use to feign. "I have been wedded a year by a priest, and the -Great Manitou will call down vengeance upon those who dare interfere -with his ordinances. And what right have you to bring me here?" - -"I bought you, Mistress Insolence. And I shall double my price when the -Chief Pamussac hears that you will be at his service." - -There was a little dagger lying in a treasure box at home. Her husband -had given it to her. If she had it here she would stab him to the heart. - -"Well, what is your reply?" he asked in a tone of triumph. "Your white -lord is dead. He cannot come at your call." - -"My reply is that we are both hungry and want some supper," she returned -in an impatient tone. "And then some more blankets," glancing -disdainfully at the pile of boughs. "You will hardly double your money -if you starve or maltreat me. I may die on your hands." - -Black Feather was more than amazed at the effrontery of the girl. He -stared at her, and his fingers worked as if he would like to clutch her -by the throat. Yes, what she said was true enough. - -Wawataysee knew well that an Indian despised any sign of weakness or -cowardice, and that to secure good treatment she must put on the -boldness of the soldier who does not fear even death, and from whom his -persecutors can extort no groan. - -"I will send you some supper. And guards shall be set to keep you from -harm," in a mocking tone. - -"Take my thanks for that," she flung out sharply. "I am mortally afraid -of the wild beasts of the forests. And I would like some sleep after -this hot, fatiguing day and the early start of the morning." - -"Oh, what did he say?" and Rene clung to her with desperation. "He was -so fierce I thought he would kill us. And why are we here? Where is Elk -Horn?" - -"My little darling, it seems that we have been sold and are to be taken -up north, unless the Great Manitou or the pitying Virgin listens to our -prayers and sends us rescue. It is a long way and something may happen." - -Rene began to cry. - -"Sweet, take courage. I do not know why, but I have a curious faith that -overrides my fears, that something will intervene. Elk Horn has dealt -treacherously, after the fashion of his tribe. Oh, my darling! I know -you will see Uncle Gaspard again, so dry your tears." - -"I am so tired of the journeying and those fierce men. Do you remember -the old Chief Neepawa and the women of the village? They seemed like -ours at home." - -"Ah, I wish we were there!" - -The supper came in, and, in spite of their fears, they were hungry. The -wind rose and the air was delightfully cool. Wawataysee spread the bed -and the child was soon peacefully asleep. The tent pole was a tree that -had been trimmed for that purpose, and the young girl leaned against it, -watching the flicker of the fire without and the pine torches that had -been lighted. Courageous as she had appeared, every pulse shrank and -throbbed. But there was death. She would be no man's slave. Only Rene -must not be left behind. She knew of poisonous plants for which there -was no remedy. Oh, would she have the courage to take another's life? - -She dozed at length, even in her uncomfortable position. Then something -roused her, a rending crash and a glare that seemed to be the world on -fire. She sprang up, and the next crash she knew was the storm that had -broken over them with the wildest fury. Were there cries of beast and -men mingled with it? The deluge seemed to sweep the ground, the trees -writhed and groaned and crashed in the fury of the gale. In the -intervals she could hear voices without. Presently the flashes of -bewildering light ceased, though the mutterings of thunder could still -be heard, and the trees were wind-swept by the fierceness of the mighty -power. One and another came down, but her tent stood the storm and was -sheltered by an angle of three trees. - -The gray light of morning began to dawn sullenly. She watched the faint -streaks stealing through the loopholes. Rene still slept. She went to -the flap of the wigwam and raised it. The rain was pouring in torrents. -There at her feet lay a body, the leggings and deer-skin breeches -ploughed by a curious zigzag streak, scorched and torn, and the blanket -shrivelled to fragments. Some figures were moving about like wraiths in -the dusky light. It was a weird picture. She was not at all afraid. She -was used to forest storms. - -One of the figures came nearer. "Ma'm'selle!" it said in a whisper. - -The familiar word was the sweetest music. She stretched out her hand. - -"I never saw anything so terrible. And you--lived? Others have gone. -Three are dead. One is drowned, and Black Feather--" Valbonais's voice -trembled. - -"Well!" with a long breath. Did she hope for his death? - -"He ordered the men to look after the boats. They had been drawn up, but -the ground was sloping, the rain a torrent, the blackness something -fearful save when the blinding blaze of light came. He was there -ordering, cursing, threatening. Then a tree crashed down and pinned him -to the earth. He is badly hurt about the legs, but has voice enough left -in him for four." - -Wawataysee shuddered. - -"Ma'm'selle!" in a breathless manner. - -"Yes?" with eager inquiry. - -"I am going to escape. There never can be a more favorable moment." - -"Oh! oh! oh!" she cried in a piercing tone. - -"I shall find my way to St. Louis. Ma'm'selle, if you and the child -dared and would trust me. For if I have heard aright, you are to be -taken to some chief up in the straits. And if you shrank from going----" - -"I shall never reach there alive. I know a swift, unfailing poison--" And -her words came out sharply. - -He gave her a half-horrified, half-entreating look. - -"It will be a hard journey. But if we should start now there is not much -chance of our being overtaken. Everything is in such confusion, and it -may be weeks before Black Feather is able to move about. We would follow -the river as well as we could, keeping out of sight if the other boats -come up, as they are likely to do. For the rest we must trust to the -good God. I shall take a gun. I have dreamed this over many times. And -if you will go----" - -"You mean to start now--in the storm?" - -"It will clear up presently, by noon. Meanwhile, I could plan all the -arrangements. Just now you are not a close prisoner. There is no telling -what may happen to-morrow." - -"That is true." Wawataysee studied the eager young face. The eyes had an -honest, pleading look. "I will trust you," she said. "Tell me what to do -when you are ready." - -The party were too terror-stricken to think much of their captives. -There were the three dead men lying out in the rain. They brought Black -Feather up to the miserable wigwam and bound up his bruised limbs, -finding that one leg only was broken. Black Feather had tabooed the -company of women on these journeys, and had a half-breed that he had -trained for a cook. Just now an old Indian nurse would have been very -serviceable. Once he roused himself from his pain and suffering, cursing -with true Indian passion. - -"Look if the girl and the child are safe," he commanded in threatening -tones. - -They had fared very well in the storm. Both they and the shelter had -taken no harm. - -Valbonais had gathered a sack of provisions and taken it down below the -camp some distance, leaving it there with the gun. He had been very -helpful all the morning, and his brief absence had not been noted. - -At noon the rain ceased, though it was nearly an hour before the sun -came out. Dinner was eaten, the boats were dragged up so as to be within -sight, and two or three of the Indians were kept busy about their -master. Two of the prisoners had been killed and one Indian. Black -Feather ordered them buried. - -Valbonais came to the door of the tent. - -"Give me one of the blankets," he said, "and send the child out to the -back of the tent when you can do so unperceived. Then wrap yourself in -the other and steal away. We will take the other side of the strip of -woods. It is not wide." - -Rene ran out presently and seized his hand. - -"Oh, are we going back to St. Louis?" she asked in a whisper, while her -eyes were alight with joy. - -"I hope so, little one. Come this way. Now you will not be afraid to -stay here. Do not utter a cry or sound. Wrap the blanket about you--so." - -Then Valbonais waited and waited. He made one journey to Rene to -comfort her. Then he saw Wawataysee struggling through an aperture she -had made in the tent, and ran to her assistance. - -"There were so many of them about," she said breathlessly. "I pinned the -tent flap down with a stout stick, so they may think I am asleep. Oh, -let us hurry. I am so afraid," and she trembled in her excitement, -though she ran lightly along. - -When they reached Rene he picked up the sack of food and slung it over -his shoulder, took the gun and one blanket, while Wawataysee wrapped the -other about herself, the gray making her more indistinct. Rene, wild -with joy, danced and skipped, and could not repress soft gurgles of -laughter as she kept on ahead of them. - -Valbonais found Wawataysee fleet of foot and graceful as a forest nymph. -The blanket did not seem to impede her skimming motion. The sense of -danger and the thought of freedom inspired her, and hope swelled anew in -her breast. Surely the good God would have Franois in His keeping and -let them meet again. - - - - -CHAPTER X - -IN THE WILDERNESS - - -The way was tolerably clear for a long distance, though shielded from -the view of the Indians by the intervening trees. When the strip of -woods failed them for shelter it was growing dusk, and, with the rise of -the wind, they could hardly have been distinguished from the waving -shrubbery. Valbonais paused and glanced back now and then, but no -pursuers were in sight. - -"Take it a little more moderately," Valbonais said. "We must not lose -sight of the river, or we may go astray. Though we have made a gain by -cutting off this point that juts into the stream. Ah, if we only had any -kind of a boat!" - -"They might see us on the river." - -"Hardly at night, and not very clear at that. We must make for that dark -line ahead of us, a bit of woods where we can camp for the night." - -It was quite dark when they reached it, and with some difficulty he made -a light. It was largely scrubby pines and the soil was sandy, dry in -spite of the tremendous rain, though evidently there had not been as -much here. Valbonais found a dead, dry branch of pine, which he lighted, -and began to explore. A short distance in was a pile of stones heaped up -four or five feet, evidently some burial spot. He glanced at its -capabilities, then began tumbling out the smaller ones that seemed to be -largely at one side. - -"What are you going to do?" asked Wawataysee. - -"Make a sort of cave. Oh, you will see," laughingly. - -"But let me help," she cried eagerly. - -"No, no! Or, if you wish, will you take my knife and cut some pine -boughs, the bushiest ones?" - -He had stuck his dry branch in the sand and piled a few others around -it. Rene stood by the fire, much interested. - -Valbonais tore out the stones until he had a hollow place like a great -chair. This he partly filled with the ends of the boughs Wawataysee had -gathered. - -"This will make a bed for you and the child. You will have to sleep -sitting up; but you ought to be able to sleep anywhere." - -"Oh, look! look!" cried Rene, clapping her hands. "A golden baby moon -down there in the sky! Is it not beautiful?" - -The sky was of deepest azure, the stars mostly to the northwest. One was -almost at the point of the crescent, as if lighting each other on the -way. - -"To-morrow or the next night it will be in her arms," said the young -fellow. - -"A baby star in a cradle," exclaimed Rene. "Oh, is it not wonderful? -What is that?" and she suddenly shrank toward her companions. - -"Only the cry of some night bird. These clumps of woods are not thick -enough to harbor wild animals, thank the saints! Now, ma'm'selle, you -sit here and try it." - -He had spread a blanket over the pine boughs. She sank gracefully into -the seat and leaned back her head with a certain air of luxuriance. - -"Oh, it is splendid!" in a grateful tone. - -Rene ran to try. - -Valbonais stirred out the coals, took a piece of dried fish from his bag -and some corn cakes and toasted both. They were hungry enough to eat -without any demur--in truth, enjoyed it in the perfect freedom from fear. - -"Now," he said, "you must settle yourself for the night. I do not think -we shall be molested. The small band will be busy with their chief and -repairing damages. Then I found some of them were very superstitious -about a woman being in the party." - -"But I was held only for the money I would bring Black Feather. -Otherwise I would have been looked upon as a useless burden. They -dropped off poor Mre Lunde on the way, and yet she could have done them -good service. Come, Rene." - -"I am not a bit sleepy," returned Rene. "It seems almost like being at -home with no fierce Indians about; only if Uncle Gaspard were here, and -M'sieu Marchand," she was about to add, but checked herself. - -"We must be up betimes to-morrow and on our way," Valbonais said. "It -will not do to loiter." - -"What will you do meanwhile?" inquired Wawataysee. - -"Sit here and tend the fire," he said. "I shall only keep enough to see -about in case I have to defend myself from any midnight prowler." - -He folded the blankets around the two, who certainly looked comfortable -in their rocky bed. He pushed his way through the thicket and ran down a -short distance, where he had command of the river. Nothing was going -either way. How sweet and tranquil it all was, after the terrors of last -night! He could have stayed there hours watching the stars come out -brighter and brighter, and the soft wind weaving strange melodies, -whispering of hope. - -Both girls were asleep when he returned. He sat down outside the -enclosure and leaned his shoulders against it. His gun was by his side, -his knife in his belt. He should have had a hatchet, too; that useful -article no one scarcely travelled without, but in the excitement he had -not thought of everything. Once he replenished the fire; then the fuel -gave out and he fell asleep. - -Nothing molested them. The singing of some birds in the thicket roused -him. He hurried to the river; all was tranquil, silent, with no enemy in -sight. Then he glanced down the long and arid space, where even grass -grew sparsely in the sandy soil that held no moisture. They must start -early so as to escape the mid-day heat. - -Wawataysee had risen and smoothed her ruffled plumes. - -"It is so beautiful!" she said, with heartfelt pleasure. "And, oh, to be -free from horrid fears! I slept so tranquilly. Did you have any rest?" - -"I forgot everything," and he laughed with a glad sound. "I was not a -very good watcher, perhaps, but I think any unusual noise would have -startled me." - -"You are so good! What would we have done without you?" raising her -beautiful, grateful eyes. - -He flushed warmly. "We cannot have much variety for breakfast," with a -gleam of amusement. "We may fare better to-night." - -He lighted the small fire again, collecting the charred embers. - -"Is it far to the river--and safe?" - -"Not much of a run," he answered. "The shore is shallow. I had a -reviving bath." - -"Come, Rene," and she held out her hand to the child. - -Meanwhile, Valbonais replaced the stones, wondering what hands had -brought them there in the first instance, and whether white or Indian -lay at rest beneath them. The girls were racing over the sand, bright, -fresh and glowing, and they partook of their simple breakfast and -started on their journey. The sun was not shining brightly, yet there -was no indication of rain. It was as if Nature was indulging in a -tranquil mood. Now and then a flock of birds went sailing over their -heads, and a squirrel out of place ran nimbly across the sand. - -"You have no idea how far it is to St. Louis?" their companion inquired. - -"Oh, hundreds of miles!" cried Rene. - -"Hardly that," said Wawataysee. "There have been so many delays. When I -came from the straits it was with the fleet, and I hardly took note;" -flushing as she recalled the delightful journey with her husband. "Yet -it seems to me we cannot have gone so very far up." - -"Is there any particular point that you can remember? There was the -Indian settlement where we met, little thinking then that we should be -mates on a return journey. Whether it would be safe to trust them----" - -"There was another halt, up a little stream. A settlement of Peoria -Indians, who are kindly and who have adopted many habits from the -whites, are more intelligent than most other tribes. That is down -farther still. It was our first stopping place. They were very generous -with provisions." - -"That will be one of our troubles. Still there will be small game to -shoot and fish to catch." - -Although there was considerable travel down the Illinois and some quite -well-appointed stations, they were far between. The fur and trading -fleets, if the lines of flat boats and canoes could be called that, -carried abundant provisions. Roving bands of Indians and parties of -adventurous hunters crossing the interior were the only travellers, and -they often stopped at the forts. - -They went farther out by the river. And suddenly there was a serious -surprise. Around a wooded bend came a canoe filled with Indians. Then -another and one of stores, and one figure was suspiciously studying the -shore. They had hidden among the trees, but were peering out cautiously. - -"Oh!" Wawataysee whispered, "it is Elk Horn and his party! See, he is -standing up, looking this way! O Mother of God, come to the assistance -of thy children!" and, sinking on her knees, she clasped her hands in -supplication. - -It was Elk Horn. He had sobered up and began to realize that he might -have made a better bargain with his prisoners. He had secured some more -arms and ammunition, and hoped now to overtake Black Feather. His glance -around was not indicative of the slightest certainty. He could not have -dreamed that the fugitives in the woods were the very ones he meant to -quarrel and perhaps fight about when he met Black Feather. - -Wawataysee scarcely breathed until the last canoe was but a dusky line -on the river. - -"We certainly are safe," Valbonais said. "Of course, they could not -suppose we had escaped." - -"I was so afraid they were in search of a landing place. Oh, if they had -stopped!" in terror. - -"Then we would have plunged farther in the woods, climbed trees even. I -do not mean to be taken a prisoner again; and surely, it will go hard -with me if you are, or hard with the abductor!" with a gleam of -resolution. - -"I am glad they have gone up the river," declared Wawataysee. "Now there -is no fear of meeting them." - -"If we could find some traders coming down----" - -"And trust them?" There was a troubled light in her eye. "Oh, now that I -know there are two people in the world, perhaps three, hungering for -revenge on me, I am sore afraid at times. I shall never see a Huron -without reading a menace in his eye." - -Valbonais glanced at her inquiringly. - -"You have heard part of the story. Let me join the tangled threads, and -you will the better understand my misgivings." - -"Let us go on now. Every hour is precious. And it will delight me to -listen to anything that has concerned thee," bowing low to her. - -So she told of her home and her affiliations with the French, being -related on her mother's side, and how she had always liked them the -more, while her brother was proud of his Indian blood and his chieftain -father. It was not until she had met and loved Franois Marchand and -plighted her troth to him that she was informed of her brother's -intentions toward her, and she prayed to him for the liberty of choosing -her own husband--admitted, indeed, that she had chosen him and could be -the wife of no one else. Then he had sent a messenger to say that her -escort was on the way with orders to bring him to her at once, and that -preparations were being made for a grand marriage. The trading fleet was -ready. She had only to step on board. At the first mission station they -had stopped for the priest to marry them. - -"So, you see, I could never, never be the wife of any other man. And -this chief has two wives. He told my brother that I should be first: but -Indian women do not always accept their dismissal so easily." - -There was a proud, steadfast light in her eyes, the bloom of courage and -constancy on her soft cheek. How beautiful she was! - -"And M. Marchand----" in a low tone, half inquiry. - -"Whether he is dead or alive I do not know. But I am his in death as -well as life," with a firmness that bespoke the utmost devotion. - -No, she would never let another wrest from her the holy bond she had -given him with her sweet maidenhood love. - -Night was coming on apace again. There was no cairn of stones to be -transformed into a sleeping chamber. Rene was very tired and a little -pettish. - -"Is there nothing for supper but these dried, hard cakes and the fish?" -she asked discontentedly. - -"And not even that for breakfast," Valbonais said lightly. "I must get -up early and shoot some game. There is no corn matured yet, so if we -came to growing fields the juicy ears would not be there. But I think I -can find something," hopefully. - -This night they had to have a forest bed, but he found a place soft with -a kind of dried turf, and spread out one blanket for pallet and left one -to cover them with. Then he kindled a fire at some distance, for he had -heard the cry of an animal. Farther off, then nearer, a stealthy -creeping along. He reached for his gun and glanced cautiously around. -Presently he caught the glare of two sparks of flame coming nearer, -crouching down, and he fired. - -"Oh, what is it?" Wawataysee sprang up in affright. - -"Some animal. I think he is dead, however." He lighted a torch and went -nearer, touched the creature with his foot. The shot had hit him -squarely, shattering his head. - -"Only a poor fox. Nothing for our breakfast;" yet he gave a cheerful -laugh. - -"Oh, I am glad it was nothing worse." - -"Do not dream of trouble. The good God will watch over us." - -She pressed his hand. She was glad to be near a lightsome, courageous -human being. - -Presently she stole back to her bed. Nothing else came to startle them. -When she woke again the sun was shining. Valbonais had kindled a fire, -shot and dressed some birds and was broiling them before the coals. - -"Was it a dream," she asked, "or did you really shoot in the night?" - -"Yes; and I have taken a part of the fox's coat. It may be useful for -moccasin soles before we are through." - -"Poor thing!" she said pityingly. - -The breakfast was delightful, after the two days of dried fish. Then -Rene found a patch of wild strawberries that the birds had not -discovered. They were dead ripe and luscious. Now they went on with -cheerful hearts, keeping the river in sight, but meeting nothing more -alarming than a herd of roaming deer. It was useless to fire at them; -birds would be more to the purpose. Toward night they struck a rude -cabin, made by hunters, as it did not look like Indian workmanship. -There had been a fire, but since that time it had rained. Inside was a -table and a bed of dried hemlock branches. - -"I think we had better stay," Valbonais announced. "It is a hunter's -cabin, evidently, and no one has been here for some time. There is a -little stream of excellent water. We will trust luck, at all events." - -They had some supper and were glad of shelter, for it came on to rain, -but no such terrific storm as that which had worked such havoc with -Black Feather and his party. The soft patter on the leaves was -delightful music, though for awhile the rustle of the wind seemed almost -like the advance of human beings. - -It was well they were under shelter, for it rained all the next day. No -one came to molest them. Valbonais caught such an excellent supply of -fish that he cooked some for the following day. If there was only any -ripe fruit! - -"It was late in May when we left St. Louis," Wawataysee said. - -"And now it is June. What day I do not know." - -"Let us count back." - -But their reckoning was not alike. They forgot, and then recalled -incidents that had marked days, then lost count again. Rene was -wretchedly tired. - -"Poor little thing!" exclaimed Wawataysee. "She has been very good and -courageous, but it is hard for her. And look at her poor little -moccasins--out to the ground." - -"Then Mr. Foxskin will serve us a useful purpose. I have nothing to -fasten them on with, but can tie them with strips of his skin to-morrow. -And yours?" - -She flushed. Hers were in the same plight. - -"But I can stand hardships better," and she smiled cheerfully. - -Rene slept all the afternoon and woke much refreshed. It had stopped -raining, and now they were full of plans for to-morrow. The moon came -out--the baby star had travelled nearly across it. - -"I am glad it is a new moon. We shall have some benefit of it the rest -of our journey," their guide said. - -"Oh, when shall we get home?" cried Rene impatiently. "Do you suppose -there have been any more Indian assaults?" - -"You have been remarkably favored at St. Louis. To the east, towns have -been burned, people taken captive by scores or murdered. And up north it -seems to have been a regular battlefield, with the French losers every -time. Think of the English holding our splendid Quebec and Montreal!" - -"I have been in Quebec, monsieur," declared Rene, with amusing dignity. - -"And France, too," added Wawataysee. - -Then Rene found herself quite a heroine in the eyes of Valbonais, and -was delighted to recall her experiences. - -They left the cabin and journeyed on; slept in the woods that night and -the next. There had been several feasts of berries; they saw some green -plums and green wild grapes, but neither were tempting. Now, some way, -it seemed as if they had lost their reckoning. The river certainly was -to the west of them. - -"And we must go southward." said Wawataysee. - -Their good fortune had failed them to-day. They had found nothing. They -were tired and hungry. And if they were lost!---- - -They turned into an opening. Here ran a clear creek, at which they -quenched their thirst. - -"Let us follow it some distance at least. It must go to the river. It -has quite a current." - -It suddenly widened out and grew larger as they went on. They glanced at -each other in dismay. - -"If it goes to the river, how can we cross so wide a stream? Could -either of us swim with the child? I think it would be better to go back -and cross where it is narrower." - -So they retraced their steps and found that it was fed by a rivulet on -the other side, almost hidden by the grass. Valbonais paused a moment to -enjoy the picture. Everywhere the most serene quiet. Songs of birds, the -call of some animal, the rustle of a deer and the brown, startled eyes -gazing at one. The green of the foliage with its light and varying -shades, the long stretches of wild grass dotted with various-colored -flowers, and here and there a silvery streak of sand like a silver -ribbon. - -On and on, the creek growing narrower. The man's eyes caught sight of a -young fallen tree. - -"I think I can bridge it over. Let me try this," and he dragged the tree -to the edge, stood it up, letting it fall with some force. It just -touched the opposite shore. - -"Now if I could find another. Why did I not capture a hatchet in my raid -on the Indians!" - -"The water is clear and deep," said Wawataysee; "too deep for one to -wade." - -"I could cross it with the child. Still I will see if there is not -another dead tree." - -This time it was a larger one. It took their united strength to raise -it, but it went straight across, making quite a promising bridge. - -"Would you dare?" He glanced at the Indian girl with an assurance of her -courage. - -"Would I dare?" She laughed melodiously. Then she looked steadily at it -a moment, started like an arrow from a bow and in a flash was across. - -"Oh, how beautiful! Can I try?" Rene clapped her hands, and her face -was brimming with delighted eagerness. - -"Wait a moment." Valbonais picked up the blanket and strapped his gun to -his back, convoying them over safely and depositing them on the ground. -"I wonder if we dare trust the child?" - -"Oh, I think so. It is such a step," Wawataysee answered. - -He went back to her. "You will not be afraid, little one? You can run -swiftly, and if you can keep a steady head----" - -"Yes, yes!" Wawataysee stood with outstretched arms and smiled. Rene -started with a child's audacity. The round logs, instead of the flat -surface, confused her and she hesitated, lost her balance and went down -with a cry. Valbonais sprang into the creek, but missed his first grasp -of her. The next brought her safely up and Wawataysee took her, -frightened and half strangled. Valbonais shook himself and laughed. - -"I would rather the clothes had not taken a bath. And she is wet, but -not injured." - -"It slipped and rolled," the child began, "and then I couldn't keep on. -Oh, dear! I am all dripping." - -"Roll her in a blanket. I am sorry it is so near dark and we cannot tell -quite which way to go." - -"We must keep on toward the Illinois," said Wawataysee. "Oh, and now I -think we came up a creek to the Peorias' lodge. What if this should be -the stream? Then we are nearer home than I thought." - -Her eyes shone like stars, her voice was freighted with joy, for her -thought was an inspiration. - -"I do not see how we could have gone out of the way," he returned, -knitting his brows. - -"The river winds. We may have shortened our journey a little by it. And -if we could find the lodge! Oh, I can't help feeling that we are all -right!" - -She was wringing Rene's garments and rubbing her with a blanket. -Valbonais pressed the water out of his, and tried to catch the -inspiration. - -"Now we must go on. Rene, you must keep the blanket about you," the -elder said. - -"But it is so warm. I am most smothered." - -"It will be cooler presently," in a consoling tone. - -"And I am so hungry!" she said, half crying. - -They had eaten nothing since morning. - -"We are all hungry. And if we can find those kindly Indians they will -give us a feast." - -"I hope she is right." Valbonais thought. - -They walked briskly onward for a while. The moon came up and shed its -silver radiance, setting the little stream with gems and showering the -trees with her effulgent flood. But to-night they could not enjoy -it--could hardly keep hope alive. - -"I am so tired!" Rene began to cry in earnest and stopped short. The -reaction had come and she shivered with a chill. Her slight frame was in -a collapse. - -"I will carry her," said Valbonais. "We shall get along faster." - -Wawataysee took the other blanket and the gun. The summer night was -growing chilly here at the edge of the creek. They waded through the -other stream. Rene's head drooped on the man's shoulder. She had -forgotten her troubles in sleep. But presently he had to pause with his -burden. - -"Let us sit here and rest awhile. And if you could sleep an hour it -would refresh you so much." - -Wawataysee leaned against a great tree bole that was like a column. The -relaxation was grateful. What with fatigue and hunger, nature was -overpowered and they all slept. When Wawataysee awoke the darkness -startled her. The moon had gone down. She stretched out her hand in half -terror. - -"You have had a nice sleep," began Valbonais cheerfully. "I, too, caught -a nap. It must be near morning. Do you feel that you can go on?" - -"Oh, yes! And the child? How strong and courageous you are!" - -He stood Rene down and she roused. "Oh, where are we?" she cried in -affright. - -"Here, dear." Wawataysee took her hand. "We are going to the Indian -lodge, where we shall get some breakfast. Can you walk?" - -"Why, yes. But I _am_ tired. Will we soon be there? And, oh, I wish it -was not so dark!" - -Still, she went on without further complaint. Darker and darker it -seemed. She gave her other hand to Valbonais. They both felt she lagged -a little. - -Suddenly a rosy light shot up in the east, and out of it great spires of -crimson and gold that set the heavens aflame. The stars hung low in the -northwest, and one by one dropped out of sight. Countless birds filled -the air with melody, and every tree and shrub shook out its fragrance. - -"Courage!" Wawataysee said, but her voice was tremulous with her -twenty-four hours' fast. And the walk seemed interminable. Her feet were -shodden with lead. - -Oh, what was this? Fields of young corn, shedding its peculiar fragrance -as the dew was vanishing in the drier air of morning. In the distance -hooded wigwams, a palisade to the north for shelter, blue-gray curling -wreaths going up from newly kindled fires. The barking of dogs and the -curious, pervasive sense of human life. - -It seemed as if an army of dogs rushed out. An authoritative voice -checked them, and an Indian came forward to learn the cause of the -alarm. Wawataysee sank down on a stone and the world seemed whirling -round, while Rene, crying, fell into her lap. - - - - -CHAPTER XI - -WAS EVER WELCOME SWEETER - - -It was, indeed, the lodges of the Peorias. The old chief, Neepawa, had -long since given up rambling life, and with many of the elder people -formed a settlement, where they had lived in peace with their white -neighbors and seldom been molested by their red brethren. They were more -industrious than many tribes. The main colony was about Ste. Genevieve, -but these adored their old chief and his wife and enjoyed the smaller -combination. They were kindly hearted and ready to hold out a helping -hand, and enjoyed their seclusion. - -Wawataysee had collapsed from fatigue and pure joy at the certainty that -they would reach St. Louis once more. Of the next few incidents she kept -only the vague remembrance of a dream. She was taken into one of the -lodges and water brought to her, and when the woman saw how utterly -exhausted she was, she bathed her face and combed her hair, then her -poor feet, and brought her a cup of warm spiced drink, put her in some -fresh garments and left her to sleep. Some other motherly hands had -taken Rene in charge, who chattered with all the Indian words she had -picked up and entertained her hostess extremely. - -Meanwhile, Valbonais had related to the old chief his own mishaps, his -meeting with Wawataysee and Rene in their captivity, the terrible storm -and the disaster to Black Feather and his followers that had led to -their opportunity of escape. Neepawa had heard of the attack on St. -Louis, and the signal repulse the marauders had suffered. He admired the -courage of the captives and was glad they had found a haven. From here -they could easily be returned to St. Louis. But Valbonais also learned -that they had narrowly missed an encounter with quite a large body of -Sioux and Winnebagoes, who would no doubt have taken them prisoners -again if they had followed the river more directly. They had made quite -a wide detour, it seemed, and to that they owed their safety. - -Rene seemed none the worse for her ducking and the fatigue when she had -been bathed, put in dry clothes and had a bountiful breakfast. The -Indian children and their plays interested her immensely. And there was -so much strange and new about the settlement and other things that -suggested her first Indian friend, Mattawissa. - -Wawataysee slept until past noon, when she awoke refreshed, and at the -first moment so surprised that she could not imagine where she was. But -the familiar faces of Rene and Andr Valbonais quite restored her. How -warmly sympathetic these children of nature were! Ah, what if they had -fallen into captivity again! and she shuddered. - -They talked of starting, but the old chief would not listen to such a -plan. - -"You have had enough of travelling in the night," he said. "To-morrow -some of our young men will take you down. Until then be content." - -So they smoked the pipe of peace and amity, and talked of the mighty -changes going on in the Continent, the new nation seeming a conglomerate -of many peoples, sweeping everything before them with their resistless -energy; of the towns springing up where different tribes had roamed -about and slaughtered each other. Almost eighty years ago Neepawa had -been born, when his race was ruler of nearly all the country. - -The travellers were really loaded with gifts the next morning. Two young -Indians were to row them down the river and return. With many thanks -they parted from their kind entertainers, with promises of grateful -remembrance. - -Rene could hardly contain herself. Anywhere else she must have danced -for joy. Of course, there would be Uncle Gaspard. And she almost -believed Mre Lunde must have found her way home, since they had -succeeded under such difficulties. - -And now familiar sights met their eyes. Here was the Missouri River -coming to greet her mighty mother; Fort St. Charles with its hamlets, -the bend in the river, the islands, the old town itself, the towers, the -fort, the palisade rendered much stronger since the attack; the bluff -with its rocky ledge, and then the wharf. - -Business was over. There was not much doing at this season, and nearly -every one had gone home. A few parties were out canoeing or rowing on -the river. The two Indians would return in spite of entreaties, and they -bid their white guests good-by. - -Down along the levee the two girls, holding hands tightly, ran with all -their speed. One hardly had a chance to see their faces. They turned up -by the Government House, where a group of men sat smoking and enjoying -the late afternoon coolness. Valbonais followed wonderingly. This was -St. Louis! What had Indians or British hoped to gain by attacking so -small a place, for he had thought of it as resembling Montreal or -Quebec. Up the Rue de la Tour--there stood the shop door open---- - -"Uncle Gaspard! Dear Uncle Gaspard! we have come back!" cried Rene, -flying in. - -It was not Uncle Gaspard, but Franois Marchand, growing white to the -very lips at the apparition that met his gaze. Was it a dream? He hardly -dared approach. The words died on his lips. - -Rene dropped the Indian girl's hand and rushed through the half-open -doorway. There was Mre Lunde in a chair outside, half hidden in the -nest of vines, knitting leisurely. That for the moment did not surprise -Rene. She caught the elder woman's shoulder and almost shook her. - -"Where is my Uncle Gaspard? Tell me at once! Where is he? Where is he?" -the child cried imperiously. - -Mre Lunde let her knitting fall and stared with wild eyes. "He!" she -exclaimed tremulously. "He! Have you not met him? He set out almost at -once for you. Oh, the good God and all the angels be praised! Now we -will be happy again. Oh, child, my heart has broken for you! How did you -escape?" - -All the color left Rene's eager face. She stretched out her hands as if -to clasp something. The eyes seemed dulled by some far, desperate gaze. - -"Uncle Gaspard! Gone!" she faltered. - -"Oh, did you not meet him? Child, he would not rest until he had set -out. Is it thy pretty prank, little one? Is he staying behind to tell -some one the story and then surprise us?" - -"He did not come!" she wailed, her heart throbbing with passionate -grief. "We have not seen him. Oh, mre, mre, the cruel Indians have -captured him! And I was so sure." - -She sank in a little heap at the woman's feet. After all the dangers and -alternations of hope and fear, the fatigues, the last blow had been too -much for her. Mre Lunde gathered the limp form in her arms, then laid -her on the rustic settle, chafing the small hands and bathing the face -with a fragrant concoction of her French skill. She drew slow breaths -presently, but did not open her eyes. - -Franois Marchand gazed on his wife, speechless with a curious doubt, as -one in a dream. Then he came nearer. She was thinner, the rose bloom had -faded from her cheeks and there were dark shadows about her eyes. But -oh, surely it was no ghost come to mock him! - -He took her in his arms, and if the shape had melted into vague -nothingness he would not have felt surprised. But it did not. It was -soft flesh. He rained kisses on brow and cheek and lips; her sigh was a -breath of perfume. Was it moments or hours? - -"Thanks be to God and our good friend Gaspard!" he said presently. "Oh, -my sweet blossom of northern wilds, my treasure, my queen, how I have -feared and wept for thee! What lonely days! What sleepless nights! And I -bound to the bed by wounds and fever and a broken limb, knowing thou -wert in the hands of cruel enemies and I helpless to succor thee. And -that brave soul came to thy rescue! How can we ever thank him enough?" - -She could not speak at first, only return kisses for kisses. He found a -seat and drew her close in tender embrace; felt the throb of the heart -against his, though the whole slim figure was full of languor. - -"And I was never certain if you were dead or alive. When they dragged me -from you at the edge of the woods there was no motion to assure me. All -night I dreamed of you, torn, perhaps, by some prowling beast, or lying -there stark and stiff." - -"It was Gaspard who found me, who placed me in wise care and then set -off. Oh, let us go and thank him. Every moment's delay is ingratitude." - -"Is he not here?" She raised her head from his breast. "We have not seen -him. We owe our escape and guidance to another captive--a young fellow -considered a slave. But--we have not seen M. Denys." - -"Heaven send him safely back to us, then! He is a brave, noble friend. -He believed you might be taken up to the straits and the child would be -with you." - -She shuddered. She could not mar this happy moment by a relation of the -dreadful fate which for a few days had hung over her and made her prefer -death. Ah, how much harder the resolve would have been had she known of -a certainty that her husband was living! - -"After much tedious journeying we reached the Peoria settlement, back -from the Illinois River, where the old Chief Neepawa governs a remnant -of his tribe. They were most kindly and gave us rest and food until we -were quite restored. Afterward they brought us home. Oh, my husband, my -lord, my lover! To be with you once more is enough. I would have -suffered twice the hardships and dangers for such a blissful end!" - -He felt her frame tremble in his arms and pressed her closer in a -transport of tenderness. Ah, the perfect content! - -Then she bethought herself. - -"The child," she said, awakening to the more generous flow of sympathy -that love for the time had overwhelmed. "The poor little Rene! She has -looked forward every hour to meeting him again, and the disappointment -will be bitter. It is more like a woman's love than a child's, though -she is innocent of the deeper strivings of maidenhood. Come, let us go -to her." - -Mre Lunde had to give the young wife a warm welcome. The tears of joy -filled her faded eyes. - -Rene lay on the settle, sobbing. Wawataysee bent over and would have -taken her hand. - -"Go away! go away!" she cried imperiously. "I do not want you. You have -_him_ to be glad with and I have no one, no one!" - -The pathos of the tone was heartrending. - -"Rene, my little dear, Franois is so glad." - -"Go away!" She turned her face to the wall and slapped impatiently with -her hand. "I will not listen. The Indians have Uncle Gaspard, I know." - -Mre Lunde beckoned them. "She is very wilful at times, and now her -heart is sore. But the good saints have led you both back. He has been -north many a time and come home unharmed." - -"They will kill him this time!" the child almost shrieked. "There was -that fierce Black Feather! Oh, he will never come back, never!" - -The old woman waved them to the doorway and they turned and passed out. -All the garden was abloom and sweet with the fragrance of growing fruit, -tangled vines and flowers. The pale heavens had lost the light of day, -and the blue of the night was hidden by a soft gray vagueness. Birds -were singing good-night songs to each other and to sleepy nestlings. -Marchand, with his arm around his wife, drew her into a secluded spot. - -"Black Feather was a Huron," he said, "mean, tricky, avaricious. Surely -you were not in his hands?" and his grasp tightened. - -"Only a little while. Oh, I would never have been taken alive to the -straits! And this young Valbonais was their captive. Oh, where has he -disappeared to? He had an uncle in St. Louis, whither he was coming when -they captured him." - -"Tell me the story. I have had hundreds of fears for you, my darling, -yet I kept trusting the All Father." - -"Oh, not to-night!" she pleaded. "Is it not enough that I am restored, -and that no evil has happened to me? Let us not mar the joy of this -meeting." - -So they sat until the white veil in the sky cleared away and all was a -heavenly blue, with stars shining so bright they took on beautiful tints -and twinkled as in a fairy dance. To the reunited hearts there had never -been such a night of joy and splendor. - -Rene sobbed herself to sleep, worn out with the pangs of -disappointment. Mre Lunde would not disturb her. She set out a little -supper for the other two, and they talked in low tones. Mre Lunde told -of her wanderings, and that she had almost died of hunger and thirst. - -"We who were so sadly bereft resolved to join forces," explained -Marchand. "Gaspard Denys ought not lose everything by his generosity. So -I have watched the trade and tried to fill his place as best I could, -and Mre Lunde has kept the house, both praying and hoping. Several -prisoners have escaped or been left by the Indians, who really did not -want them and were afraid to practise the cruelties of other days lest a -severe punishment might overtake them." - -Rene was still dejected and inconsolable the next morning, and would -receive no overtures from Wawataysee. The young wife understood. Not -that Rene would have wished her any ill, but with the unreason of -feminine things she could not endure the sight of their happy faces, the -sound of the tender words they exchanged. She went out in the corner of -the garden and made her moan, and would not be seen of the friends that -came to congratulate the returned captives. - -Nearly noon a young man paused at the gate, looking a little uncertain. - -"It is Andr Valbonais!" cried Wawataysee, with delight. "I will bring -him in and you must thank him with your full heart." - -Valbonais was bright and smiling, his ragged clothes, that scarcely held -together, replaced by a comfortable suit, if not new; his hair trimmed -and in good order--a very attractive young fellow now, certainly. - -"We were going to set out on a search for you," Wawataysee began. "In -some unexpected manner we lost sight of you last night. How did you -fare?" - -"Oh, not badly," with a cheerful smile. "I knew you would go to friends -who would be overjoyed to see you, and I wandered down a street, trying -to find an inn, for I was not sure I would be allowed to stop in the -street all night. So in my inquiry I met some one who knew my uncle, -Pierre Valbonais, who, it seems, is at work in your great mill, and who -lives beyond the court-house, in the Rue des Grainges. My faith, but you -are a very hospitable folk," and his eyes shone with a joyous light. -"This M. Pion would give me some supper and a bed, and we talked over my -adventures smoking our pipes." - -"I am glad you found a friend. It was our desire to take you in. And -your relative?" with a slight hesitation. - -"I found my way to the mill, and the uncle greeted me cordially. There -is an aunt and some cousins, it seems, and I am to make my home with -them for the present. Moreover, I find there is plenty of work to do and -I shall be happy. Where is the little maid?" - -Wawataysee explained Rene's grief at finding her uncle had not returned -from his search. Then M. Marchand took him through to the shop, and was -so earnest in his gratitude that it touched Valbonais deeply. - -Rene came out of her garden corner as he was going away. Her pretty -eyes were swollen with weeping. - -"Oh, little one, you were so brave on the journey, amid all the -hardships, that you must not lose heart now! And I hear your uncle has -made many trips with the traders, so he knows about the Indians and is -not likely to let them take him unawares. He will return, surely." - -She cast her eyes down and made no reply. She would not be comforted -even by him. - -The Renauds came over in the afternoon, and though the girls followed -her to the garden, she would not be amused with their chatter. What did -she care about a new frock or a tea-drinking on the green by the fort, -or games and plays? - -"She is very disagreeable and cold," said Elise to Sophie as they were -walking home. "I suppose because she has a 'de' before her name she -thinks she can put on any airs. But I am older and shall have a lover -first. Of course, M. Denys will return. He always has before." - -So everybody thought. And a child cannot be unhappy forever when every -one joins to dispel her sorrow. She thawed out very slowly. Andr hardly -knew what to make of her, she was so grave and indifferent. - -He had found employment in the mill and felt quite elated. Madame -Valbonais liked him very much. There was one son a trapper, though he -did not take very long journeys. Then there were two bright girls who -were not averse to having such an attractive cousin. - -Through them he came to know the Renauds, and Barbe he thought extremely -winsome. Before a fortnight had passed he was in the merrymakings and -dances, and having a most enjoyable time. It did not trouble him now -that he had been in more than one peril of his life. - -The lieutenant-governor who had proved himself so unworthy was recalled. -M. Cruzat was fortifying the town more securely than it had ever been, -but for some time any body of Indians going back and forth roused a -feeling of distrust and fear. Pleasure parties were careful not to trust -themselves too far away. - -Mre Lunde begged Wawataysee to remain with them, as M. Marchand was -taking charge of the business. When Mattawissa came in with her pretty -work and various articles, many of which went down to New Orleans, she -and the young wife made very good friends. - -"She will take every one away from me," thought the child with a -swelling heart, and she grew more reserved. Even Mre Lunde had to yield -to the sweetness of Wawataysee. Sometimes she sang really beautiful -Indian songs and described vividly the dances and entertainments, though -there were many in which only old women were allowed. - -July began to ripen fruits and fill the farmers with joy at the prospect -of abundant crops. But Rene counted the weeks sadly. She was growing -pale and thinner, and roamed about like an unquiet ghost. She would not -play with the children, but rambled desolately by herself and -occasionally stole down to the end of the stockade and ventured out to -see her grandfather. He seemed nearly always at home now, sitting -outside his neglected-looking cabin smoking his pipe and patching his -clothes or making moccasins, on which he put stout soles of skin. He -would nod and occasionally push a stool to her, which was the round of a -log, and motion her to be seated. - -One day he said sharply: "Has anything been heard of Gaspard Denys? Some -traders have come in." - -She knew that. They had been at the shop. - -"They have not seen him," she admitted sorrowfully. - -"There would be news if he had been killed." - -"Oh! oh!" A sharp pang went to the child's heart. To have another put -her dread into words was like confirming it. - -"That might be," said the old man. "The pitcher may go to the spring -without spout or handle, but it gets an unlucky knock at the last." - -She was silent. - -"He made me give you to him. He bound me with signing a paper. Then if -you are his, what he has comes naturally to you. There is the house and -the garden. And the shop, with all its stores. Gaspard Denys has a -strong box. There may be gold and silver in it. It belongs to you." - -Rene stared at him. His skin was browner than ever, and his face -wrinkled in every direction. His hair was unkempt, his eyes were so -squinted up that they looked like two sparks merely. - -"Oh," she cried, "what should I want with it all, and no Uncle Gaspard?" - -"It will be a good dot. It will make you a good marriage when the time -comes. And they must not get it away from you." - -"They? Who?" in surprise. - -"That man and his half-Indian wife. Ah, I have seen people before, men -who can plan adroitly. And I tell you now he shall not have it. When the -time comes I shall turn him out neck and heels, and we will see! I shall -not have you cheated out of your rights, Rene de Longueville." - -"I don't understand. If it is M. Marchand you mean----" and she eyed the -old man resolutely. - -"Who asked him to come in there? Gaspard Denys locked up his place, and -he and that old woman opened it. They had no right, I say." - -He struck the flat stone beside him with his fist, but it did not seem -to hurt that member. - -"It was Mre Lunde's home. And she looks for him every day. Oh, if word -came that he was dead we should both die of grief!" - -Her lip quivered, her eyes filled with tears. - -"Bah! No one dies of grief. And I will keep you out of that man's -clutches. I am your grandfather and I have some rights." - -Rene shuddered at the fierce old man. She had used to feel afraid of -him, but it seemed of late that she did not fear anything, the darkness -of the night nor the thunder storms, when it appeared as if the town -would be hurled into the river. What if he should really claim her, -if--if--Oh, she would a hundred times rather stay with M. Marchand, even -if he was kissing and caressing Wawataysee half the time. - -"I must go," she said, rising. She had been trying to esteem him a -little now that she was so lonely, but all the endeavor was like water -spilled on the ground, and he had broken the bowl. - -"You will come again. No one shall cheat you out of your rights," -nodding vigorously. - -She turned away. First she thought she would walk along the river. It -crept lazily to-day, yellow in the yellow sunshine. But when she reached -the Rue Royale she turned into that. She did not care to pass the -Renauds'--why was it that she could not love any one any more? that her -heart seemed like lead in her bosom? So she went up to the Rue de -l'Eglise straight on to the little church. She had not been Saturday -afternoons of late. She knew the catechism and the prayers, and the -children's drawl seemed to spoil it for her. Sometimes people prayed for -things and they came. Well, she was praying all the time for Uncle -Gaspard's return. Maybe it ought to be asked for in the church. She -crept in softly. - -The little old place was very, very plain. Even the altar and the high -altar had but few decorations at this time. There was a candle burning -and it shed a pale glow. There was a basin of holy water, and she -reverently made the sign of the cross with it. Then she knelt down on -the floor and clasped her small hands. - -"O holy God," she prayed, "O Christ, son of the holy God, listen to my -sorrow, I beseech thee. Send back Uncle Gaspard, for my life is so -lonely without him. Keep him safe from all danger." - -It seemed so different to pray here. She would come every day now. This -was God's house. - -It was strange and she did not understand it a bit, but her heart felt -lighter. The old garden was gay with bloom. Chatte came to meet her, -arched his back and waved his tail like a flag, looking at her out of -green, translucent eyes with a black bar straight up and down. She -stooped and patted him and he began to purr with delight. He was as fond -as she of sitting in Uncle Gaspard's lap. - -Mre Lunde was pounding green grapes, great, luscious wild grapes, into -a mash. Then she would strain out the seeds and make a most delicious -jam with maple sugar. How fragrant the room was with the spicy scent! -She went up and kissed her tenderly, and tears came to the woman's eyes -at the unexpected caress. - -Wawataysee sat by the open window doing some beautiful beadwork. M. -Marchand was busy sorting goods and piling them up on the shelves, and -whistling soft and low like the wood thrush. Well, why should he not be -happy, now that he had Wawataysee back? And she had been almost angry -about it--no, not angry, but hurt, and--perhaps she was selfish. Ah, think -of her grandfather being here and turning things about, making it dismal -and wretched! No, he should not order the place and turn out these two -who had been so kind. Perhaps the Governor would know what was right. -She would pray it might never happen. That would be another petition. -And without understanding how religion comforted, she was happier. - - - - -CHAPTER XII - -HER ANSWER - - -It was strange how petitions grew. Rene used to walk gravely up to the -old church--the door was never fastened--and slip in and say her prayer. -Once a woman came who had lost her little baby. - -"Oh," she said, when they had exchanged sorrows, "I think thou wilt be -comforted. Gaspard Denys has come back times before. Many of our -husbands and brothers have returned. But my little baby cannot return. I -may live many, many years and grow old, and in all that time I shall -never see him!" - -Yes, that was a great sorrow, and a long waiting. - -August came in. Pears and plums were ripening, and various articles were -being put by for winter use. Sometimes the season was long and cold, and -it was well to be prepared. Men worked in the fields to gather the early -crops, and the young people had merry dances at night. The days began to -grow a little shorter already. - -Some one said as she stepped out of church one afternoon: "There is a -small fleet coming down the river. Pierre Chouteau expects one of his in -next week, but that will have a dozen or more." - -"That is only Latour's. He has been up to St. Charles," was the answer. -"They have a great abundance of corn this season." - -Next week! Rene's little heart beat with a great bound of joy. And -after that boats would be coming in weekly, Indians with canoes full of -furs, dried venison and fish from the lakes. If one of them brought -Uncle Gaspard! - -She went down to the rise of ground, almost like an embankment, long -since worn away. She could see over the small throng. The first boat was -moored; it had bales of something. The second had some passengers, women -among them. A man was standing up, and suddenly he waved his hand. Who -was it? It was waved again. - -"Oh! oh!" She dropped down. All the air was full of sparks, and the -river seemed turning round and getting mingled with the sky. When the -mist cleared away she saw a confused throng of people, some leaping -ashore, and a hurly-burly of voices. Had that brief vision been a dream? -She felt strangely weak, then she laughed without knowing why and her -eyes overflowed with tears. - -A tall form came climbing up the hill with long strides, and then she -was clasped in strong arms, she felt kisses on her forehead, she was -lifted off her feet. - -"Little one!" the voice said; and only one thing in her after life -sounded as sweet. "Little one, oh, thank heaven you were saved!" - -Then they sat down on the grass the sun had scorched into a dried mat. - -"Did you come thinking to meet me?" - -"I meant to come every time after this to meet the boats. Oh, you are -alive! The fierce Indians have not killed you." - -How her voice trembled with emotion, and her hands were clasped tight -about his arm! - -"They have not had much chance." How good it was to hear the old -cheerful laugh. "And Wawataysee is safe, as well? Did Marchand recover? -I have heard no news of the dear old town, but of you I heard long ago, -and it made my heart as light as a bird mounting up to the sky. Perhaps -it will please even your gentle heart to know that Black Feather, the -treacherous Indian chief, is dead. You see, I hardly knew which -direction to take and went wrong several times. Then I heard Elk Horn -had sold some female captives to Black Feather, who had taken them up -the Illinois River. When I reached an encampment where there had been a -terrific storm I heard Black Feather had been seriously injured and had -finally been moved to an interior encampment, where there was a medicine -man. So, after a search, I found them. In spite of the medicine man the -chief had died, and they had given him a grand funeral. His followers -had dispersed. But I was told that, after the storm, some captives had -escaped and he had been so angry he had two Indians put to death. So -then I retraced my steps. Many a time I wondered if I should find you in -the forests, dead from hunger and fatigue. Whether you had gone down the -river--but you could not do that, unless some friendly boat had offered. -I passed some lodges where they had not known of any wanderers, and at -last met two Peoria Indians, who said the three escaped captives had -reached them and been taken to St. Louis." - -He pressed the child closer, looked down in the fond, eager eyes that -were shaded in a mist of emotion, and felt the eager grasp of the small -hand. How much she cared, this motherless and well-nigh fatherless girl. - -"It was Wawataysee they wanted, but your fate might have been as bad. -They might have left you somewhere to starve--" Yet did not the pretty -child's face give evidence of coming beauty? only to an Indian this was -not the rich, appealing beauty of his own tribes. And the present was so -much to the red man, the triumphs, satisfactions, joys and revenges of -to-day. - -"Oh," she said, with a long, quivering breath, "I am so glad! so glad! -It runs all over me," and she laughed softly. "And you will never go -away again? They are building the wall all around the town and putting -sharp-pointed sticks through the top. The children do not go out on the -prairies any more; they are afraid." - -"I do not think we are in much danger. Farther to the east the Indians -are joining tribes, stirred up by the English fighting the colonists. -But we have nothing to do with their quarrels. And this attack was a -mortification to them. Few, if any, of our friendly Indians were -concerned in it. Oh, little one, thank God that you and Wawataysee are -safe." - -"But M. Marchand thanks God for Wawataysee!" she said, with a touch of -resentment. - -He smiled at that. When she was older she would demand every thought of -one's heart. - -"Shall we go down now?" - -"Mre Lunde will be so glad." She arose and hopped gleefully on one -foot, holding his hand as she went part of the way around him. The last -rays of golden light in the sky made bewildering shadows and gleams -about her and she looked like a fairy sprite. - -The town was already lapsing into quiet. No one had need to grumble at -the length of working days in this pastoral town and time. Others had -come in from journeys, and in more than one home feasting had begun. The -boats had been fastened securely, the river was growing dark with -shadows, and purple and gold clouds were drifting across the heavens. - -"Let us go this way," Rene said. - -This way was up to the Rue de l'Eglise, and she turned into that. Here -and there a friend caught his hand and he had to pause for a few words -of cordial welcome. - -"What now, little one?" as she drew him aside. - -She looked up with a sweetly serious expression, though a flush of -half-embarrassment wavered over the small face. - -"I went to church every afternoon to say a prayer for you that you might -come home. I thought the good God would rather hear it in His own -house--" - -"Did you, my little darling?" he exclaimed, deeply touched. - -"And now"--she hesitated--"I think I ought to go and thank Him. Men do -that when the Governor grants their wishes." - -"Yes, yes! And I will go, too." - -Ah! there was much to be thankful for, and he felt a little -conscience-smitten that he had not made more of a point of it. - -The church was quite dark, with a candle burning on each side of the -high altar. She led him clear up to the chancel steps, and there they -knelt together. The little girl might not have understood all the fine -points of belief that the world had fought over since Christ had died -for all, and was still warring about, but her gratitude was sincere and -earnest if not spiritual, at least in a devout spirit. - -Gaspard Denys was moved by something he had never experienced before, -and touched by the child's tender, fervent faith. - -Coming out, they met old Pre Rierceraux, leaning on his cane. He had -been godfather to little Mary Pion, the first child baptised by Father -Meurin when there had been no church at all and only a tent in the -woods. The rude little building was a temple to him, and thither he came -every night to see that no harm was likely to befall it, and commend it -to the watchful care of God. - -"It is Gaspard Denys!" he said in a voice a little broken by the weight -of years. "So thou hast come home from perils and hast devotion enough -to thank God and the saints for it. There will be merry hearts to-night, -quite unmindful of this. Ma'm'selle, I have noted thy devoutness also. -The Holy Mother have thee in her keeping." - -It was quite dusk now and the houses were lighted up. At the Pichous' -they were playing already on the fiddles. Then there was this turn. - -The good news had preceded Denys. The household had come out to meet him -and there was great joy. Mre Lunde had already set a little feast, and -they wondered at the loitering. - -There had never been any welcome like this in his life before, no one to -be greatly glad when he came or sorrowful when he went. It was like a -new life, and his heart expanded, his pulses thrilled with a fervent -joy. The beautiful Indian wife who smiled at him and then turned her -eyes to her husband with an exquisite tenderness; the little girl whose -gladness was so true and deep that her eyes had the soft lustre of tears -now and then, and smiles that went to his heart; Mre Lunde's happy, -wrinkled old face, in her best coif and kerchief; and presently, -neighbors coming in with joyous greetings. For in those days they shared -each other's joys and sorrows. - -The remembrance of the cruel May day vanished. Flowers were growing over -the graves of the dead in the little churchyard. Many of the captives -had found their way back; some, indeed, lay in silent places far from -kindred. They did not forget, but they were a light-hearted people, and -their religion was not of the morbid, disquieting kind. Conscience with -them had a few salient points of right and wrong, the rest did not touch -their simple lives. - -There was a gay autumn, with wine-making and brewing of spiced or plain -beer, of meat and fish salted and dried, of corn gathered and wheat -ground and the thrifty preparations for winter. All the meadow lands -were abloom with autumnal flowers, the trees were gorgeous in all the -coloring sun and winds and dew could devise, and the haze of the -resplendent Indian summer hung over it all. There were nutting parties -to the woods, but they were cautious and went well protected. - -Trappers and traders came in, and the talk was of wilderness trails and -Indian villages friendly and unfriendly, of deer and mink and otter and -beaver, sable, marten and beautiful fox and wolfskins from the far -north. Many of the fleets went straight down the river to New Orleans, -others came up from there with beads and gewgaws and spun silk and -threads of various colors, calicoes and blankets and coarse thick stuffs -for tents. There was much dickering, great supplies of arms and -ammunitions, and then the crowd melted away and only familiar faces were -seen again. The country round about put on its white coverlet of snow to -keep warm the little earth children, streams and ponds were frozen over -and all was merriment again. - -Franois Marchand and his pretty wife set up a home of their own only a -short distance away, but business had increased so much that it needed -the attention of both. Next year they would buy some boats or have them -built, and do some trading up and down the river. - -Andr Valbonais was much pleased with his new home and the cordiality of -his relatives. He soon attracted the attention of Colonel Chouteau, for -he had considerable education, and was put in a clerkship, which -gratified him extremely. But he often ran up to the Rue de Rive to chat -with Denys and Marchand over their adventures, and to watch the pretty, -dark-eyed girl who always sat so close to her uncle and held his hand. - -And then came the winter gayeties. Throngs of children went out on the -great mound when the snow had a crust on it, and the girls, gathering up -their skirts, squatted down and were given a little push, and away they -went, swift as an arrow. One would tumble over and roll down to the -bottom, throwing about numerous little fleets, but they were so well -wrapped in furs no one was ever hurt. The great achievement was to spin -the whole length without a break. - -It was merry again at Christmastide, and Rene enjoyed it much more than -last year; but there was a tender devoutness in her worship. Then the -great Feast of Lights, Epiphany and all the fun and frolic. Andr was -chosen a king by one of the pretty girls. He was a fine dancer and a -very good-looking young fellow. - -Perhaps it made Rene more light-hearted to know that Barbe had a real -lover, and that he hardly allowed her to smile at any one else. She was -not quite betrothed as yet, but there could be no objections. He -belonged to a good New Orleans family, and was in a trading house second -only to the Chouteaus'. All the Guions said it would be an excellent -match, and Barbe was plenty old enough to marry. Bachelor girls had not -come in fashion, and when one had passed twenty the younger girls really -flouted her and thought she ought to step in the background. - -She danced once with Gaspard Denys. No, he had never been a real lover. -But if he had not gone to Quebec after this little girl--well, all things -might have been different. And as well Jean Gardepier as any one. She -would go to New Orleans with him when he went down on trading -expeditions, and the gayety would delight her. She would have some fine -clothes and jewels, still she sighed a little when Denys took her back -to her sister. - -"And here is Elise the second," said Madame Renaud gayly. "See what a -tall girl she has grown. You must dance once with her. Oh, how soon they -are women, and then it is lovers and husbands. Gaspard, are you going to -stay single forever?" and Madame laughed softly. - -"I'm such an old fellow now! I feel like a grandfather to these young -girls," he returned jocosely. - -But Elise thought him charming, and in her turn almost envied Rene. - -Years unmarked by any special events pass on almost unheeded. Trade came -and went. A few new houses were built. Young people were married, new -children were born. Families came from across the river, not liking -their English neighbors over well. Occasionally there was an Indian -alarm, but St. Louis had the good fortune to live mostly at peace with -her red neighbors, while many of the Illinois towns suffered severely. - -One of the events of the summer that delighted Rene was the birth of -Wawataysee's baby. It was a great marvel to her, though there were -plenty of babies about. It was more French than Indian. It had beautiful -large dark eyes and was a very fine specimen of babyhood. It was named -for Uncle Gaspard, who was its godfather, and Wawataysee pleaded that -Rene should be godmother. - -"For you are the two people I love best after my husband," said the -Indian woman proudly. "You are like a little sister." - -Rene was very glad to be that now. She was learning to rejoice in the -happiness of others. - -Then Barbe Guion had a very pretty wedding, and the boat in which she -was going to New Orleans was trimmed with flags. It was a long journey -then, sometimes a dangerous one; less so at this season. And Barbe might -be gone a whole year. There was a great turnout to wish her godspeed. -She looked very bright and happy in her wedding gear. - -Rene took Uncle Gaspard's hand and glanced up in his face, which was -rather grave. - -"Are you sorry?" she asked. - -"Sorry? What a question, child! Why should I be sorry?" - -"She loved you very much," was the answer, in a low tone. - -"Nonsense! I am old enough to be her father. And Barbe married of her -own free will." - -"I wish you had been my true father," Rene subjoined gravely. And -strange to say, she pitied Barbe in her secret heart, yet she was glad -she had gone so far away. - -Rene went now and then to see her grandfather. It seemed as if he grew -older and thinner and more morose, yet her sympathy went out to him -curiously. She had heard the talk that he was suspected of being in -league with the river pirates and supplying the Indians with rum, which -was against the laws. One ship had been caught, the pirates -overmastered, four of them sent to New Orleans in irons, and two had -been wounded and drowned in an attempt to swim away. She felt a good -deal troubled. He would not talk of the affair when she mentioned it. - -"But you are so lonely here outside the palisade. Why do you not come -in?" she inquired. - -"It suits me well enough," he answered roughly. "I did not ask you to -stay here. And you need not come for my pleasure." - -"But if the Indians should attack you some time?" - -"Bah! The Indians know me better," with a scowl of disdain. - -"Is Antoine Freneau my grandfather really?" she asked that evening as -she sat in the moonlight with Denys. - -"Why, yes," in amaze at her question. - -"Then it would be wicked not to--to have some regard for him," she -remarked unwillingly. - -Gaspard did not answer at once. Antoine had dropped down year by year. -He had not always been so churlish, though his discourteous, hermit-like -ways were of long standing. He had never doubted but that he had been -the father of the girl he loved, yet she had come up as a lily out of a -quagmire. But how could Rene respect or regard him? And how little he -cared for her! - -"That's a difficult question. We shall have to ask the good pre some -day. He understands these matters." - -"But--I belong to you, surely?" - -"You belong to me!" He clasped her hand fervently. - -"And I shall always stay here?" - -"Always, until some young lover comes;" but he drew her closer, as if he -disputed her being taken away. - -"You shall be my lover," with a gay laugh. "If ever I draw a bean at the -king's ball you shall be my king." - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - -PASSING YEARS - - -Rene de Longueville was fifteen and very fair to look upon, if not as -beautiful as Madame Marchand, or perhaps as some of the belles of the -town. She was slight and not very tall, and her hair had not grown much -darker. Her eyes kept their soft wondering expression, sometimes a -curious depth that told of vehement emotions, ardent joys and a capacity -for suffering. But most people looking at the gay young face when it -smiled would only have read archness and mirth and a great capacity for -enjoyment. - -Some curious events had been happening. The colonies had beaten England -and won their freedom, their recognition. From the Atlantic Ocean to the -Mississippi River it was all America. This side of the river it was -Spain still, a kind of French Spain. Commandant Cruzat was well-liked -and very social. Madame was charming. There were balls at the Government -House and at the handsome old Chouteau residence, that had been improved -year by year. A long gallery ran around two sides above the first story, -and it made a delightful place for dancers. The roof was high, with both -ends cut off as it were, broken by two chimneys and two dormer windows. -Downstairs a broad piazza also, and here the gentlemen would sit and -smoke and discuss business and the changes that were going on around -them, while within, Madame Chouteau dispensed charming hospitality. - -St. Louis was still in an idyllic state, gay, joyous, friendly and -hospitable, with much simplicity of living. Others besides the Chouteaus -had enlarged their borders. Gaspard Denys had built two rooms and raised -the roof of his house so as to make a storeroom and one little chamber, -where Chloe, the slave, slept. Mre Lunde still took charge of the -house, but Denys insisted she should have some help, and then no -question was made of buying one. They were well treated and had good -homes, and were not overworked. - -One of the new rooms was Uncle Gaspard's, the other Rene's, while her -old one was transferred to Mre Lunde, who at first thought she could -never sleep on a bedstead. And Rene's room was quite a marvel of -prettiness. Great strips of white birch bark on which dainty pictures -were worked went from floor to ceiling, while between was soft gray -plaster. Sometimes this was stained in various colors. Then there were -shelves about on which were displayed odd bits of Indian work--a bowl, a -vase, or a pretty basket. Many of these came from Mattawissa's hands and -not a few from Wawataysee's. - -Now Madame Marchand had a dainty little girl, christened Rene. Her -gracious air, her refinement and beauty, and her romantic story as well, -had made her many friends, and M. Marchand was one of the thriving -business men, very much honored and respected. Not infrequently he and -Gaspard were called into council on some important question. - -And though the palisades and gates and towers were still looked upon as -a means of defence, the inhabitants ventured to enlarge their borders -without. Several bands of friendly Indians had settled toward the -northern and western ends. Parties no longer hesitated to wander through -the woods, and the children often went out to pick wild strawberries -that grew so plentifully all about. Then there were grapes and a -delicious kind of wild plum, pears and apples, and melons cultivated in -the gardens, with various small fruits. - -Rene de Longueville had come in possession of quite a fortune; at -least, Uncle Gaspard held it in trust for her. And it made her quite a -person of consequence. - -Antoine Freneau had grown really afraid to carry on his illicit trade -after the capture of the Red Rover. She had stores for him, and for -weeks he trembled when he saw two or three men approaching his cabin. He -was old and he resolved he would do no more at it. This he tried to -explain to those who came for a supply. True, he brought up his whiskey -and sold it as long as it lasted, but unfortunately the Indians used to -securing their indulgence in that manner would not believe it. They -brought furs, often stolen from the traders, and insisted that he should -exchange. They always came after nightfall, and sped away again in the -dark. - -Angry at length at their repeated efforts, he would not open his door. -The bar within was very strong and he felt himself secure. But the old -stanchion had decayed at the ground point, and one night it gave way at -their united efforts. - -Antoine found himself defenceless against the angry mob. They bound him -and began to ransack the place. Bringing to light one jug of whiskey, -they were confident there was more. They searched every corner, every -nook, but in vain. And then they fell upon the old man, beat him and -tortured him until he was limp and lifeless they thought, when, taking a -pack of the most valuable furs, they decamped. - -It was not until noon of the next day that some one in passing noted the -unusual appearance and halted at the cabin. The old man lay on the -floor. He had revived from unconsciousness, but his hands were securely -fastened behind him, his face was bruised and swollen and everything in -disorder. He gave the alarm and some kindly neighbors came to his -assistance. Then another went for Gaspard Denys. - -Perhaps nothing could have happened that would have rehabilitated -Antoine Freneau in the pity and good will of his fellow-men sooner. -Unsocial and under suspicion for years, asking and taking nothing from -them, seldom giving them a good word, his helplessness appealed now to -their sympathy. Gaspard had his wounds and bruises attended to, the -house made a little orderly, and found a slave woman who would care for -him. That he had been robbed was evident. Even the puncheon floor had -been torn up, and disclosed a sort of pit in which something had -evidently been stored. - -Old Doctor Montcrevier came, but he shook his head doubtfully. The old -man breathed and occasionally opened heavy, wandering eyes. But on the -third day he rallied. - -"Gaspard Denys!" he moaned. "Send--tell him," and then he lapsed away -again. - -Denys came and watched with him through the night. Several times his -name escaped the old man's lips. Gaspard gave him some brandy he had -brought. - -He opened his eyes again and gazed around piteously, resting them -finally upon Gaspard. - -"I cannot think," rubbing his forehead in a dazed fashion. "They were -Indians. They wanted rum. I had none, only one jug I kept in case--in -case I should need it. I am an old man, Gaspard. They--they beat me." - -"Yes. Can you tell who they were? No strange Indians have been seen -about." - -Even here the old man's cunning came uppermost. He would not betray -himself. He shook his head slowly. - -"Some marauding parties. Perhaps from the river." - -"The river! See if they are coming!" starting up in affright. - -"No one is coming," in a reassuring tone. - -"Gaspard, am I hurt much? Oh, help me! I do not want to die. I hate -death! I want to live;" and he tried to raise himself, but fell back -exhausted. - -"Would you like to have the priest?" Gaspard could think of no other aid -in this extremity. - -"No! no! I will not die! They come to your deathbed. Stay with me -yourself." - -"What can I do?" - -He was silent a long while. His breath came slowly and with effort, and -shudders ran over him. - -"Rene," he said presently. "You have the child, Gaspard?" - -"Yes; you gave her to me." - -"If you had died--your money----" - -"I had made a will. Everything would have gone to her." - -"That was right--right. Gaspard, there is some gold--is any one -listening?" moving his eyes in a frightened way. - -"No, no!" - -"There is some gold and silver put away. You might better take it. -Thieves may come again. Carry me to the chimney." - -He was a heavy burden. Gaspard put him down on some blankets. - -"See! Count the stones. The third stone." The eyes were wild in their -eagerness. - -"This!" pointing. "Take it out." - -Gaspard worked with both strength and energy. It was fitted in very -securely, but it gave way at length. - -"The next one." - -When that came out a small iron box was visible, and Gaspard worked it -loose. - -"Take it with you. It will be hers when I die. There is no one else. But -not until--I have the key--and--but I am not going to die!" with fierce -energy. - -"No, no," soothingly. "Take a little of this cordial." - -But the signs of death were there and Gaspard read them truly. Could he -warn? That was for the priest. - -"You are very good." His voice was much shaken, and shadows seemed to -waver over his eyes. "And I was not good to you, Gaspard Denys, in that -old time. You were but a boy. You had your fortune to make. She loved -you and I meant to wean her away--and--I did not want her to know how I -was--trading. The Count fell in love with her, though when the matter was -most settled he wrung a dowry out of me, curse him! But she was a -Countess. And he should have kept the child. What did he mean by sending -her here?" - -He had made many pauses and now lay back exhausted, his face growing -grayer. Gaspard roused the nurse. - -"Go up to the church," he said, "the priest's house, and bring some one. -Quick! The man is dying." - -It was some time before he roused again. - -"Rene," he murmured, "you will be a great lady in France. Your mother's -mother was, and fled away because a king loved her. A king!" He laughed -shrilly and a rattle came in his throat. "And you must go back to them, -to your own kind. This wild life is not for you. As for that young -stripling, he is dancing at the Guinolee and singing love songs to -pretty girls. Thou art not the only pretty girl in St. Louis, Rene----" - -Then there was a long silence. Once or twice Gaspard thought him dead, -but he started and muttered both French and Indian words. It was near -midnight when the good father came, and he shook his head sadly. - -Gaspard roused Antoine a little. - -"I fear it is too late," in a regretful tone, while a look of pity -crossed his face. "Still we must try to the last moment. Antoine -Freneau, it is I, Pre Lemoine. Listen! Death is near. Dost thou repent -of thy sins, which have been many, doubtless, hidden from man but not -escaping the eye of God? There may yet be mercy vouchsafed." - -The dying man clutched the blanket and stared dully, yet he seemed to -listen. - -"Oh, yes, yes!" he cried suddenly. "At St. Anne's down the river. Yes, -we both confessed----" - -Whether he understood any of the service was doubtful, but the good -priest did his duty according to his conscience and the times. But -before he had ended the last prayer both knew he was dead, and had -passed without a struggle. - -"I will stay the rest of the night with you," said the priest. "And -since you have the child, I suppose you will be the proper person to -take charge. It is supposed the old man had not a little wealth--if the -marauders did not take it all away." - -The woman came in to prepare the body. Round the old man's neck was a -strong bit of wire like cord, and a key. Gaspard took this. It fitted -the box. - -After daylight they took a survey of the place. There were some firearms -stored away, blankets, furs that were motheaten and of little value, -some Indian habiliments; but it was evident the place had been pretty -thoroughly ransacked. - -So they buried Antoine Freneau, and for some days it was the sensation -of the little town. Gaspard Denys now took the formal guardianship of -Rene de Longueville. He had the record of her mother's marriage, her -birth and christening. Some of the goods were worth saving, the others -were distributed among the poorest of the Indians about. - -In an old chest of curious workmanship Gaspard found a false bottom. In -this compartment were some laces and embroideries, a wedding veil that -Rene's grandmother had doubtless worn, the certificate of her marriage -to Antoine Freneau and considerable valuable jewelry, with some unset -stones. And when they examined the strong box it proved an unexpected -fortune for Rene de Longueville. - -Then the old house was suffered to go to ruin. Some Indians went -there for shelter, but soon left. They had been roused at midnight -by unearthly noises and seen the figure of old Freneau in its -grave-clothes; so the story gained credence that the place was haunted. -Even after it had fallen into an unsightly heap the mysterious noises -were heard and no one would pass it after nightfall. - -Rene was very much shocked at first. She had not loved her grandfather, -but there had always been a curious pity in her tender soul for him in -what she considered his loneliness. She went in the church and prayed -for his soul, for she knew God was merciful. Had He not watched over -Uncle Gaspard and sent him safely home? - -And now Rene de Longueville was quite an heiress and had some really -beautiful heirloom jewels, besides the laces and the exquisite veil. Her -grandmother's people must have been of some account. But no one would -have imagined Antoine Freneau a handsome or attractive young man, and a -favorite among the pretty girls of Old New Orleans. The miser-like -propensities had grown with the years, and he had found, he thought, an -easy way of making money by being in league with the river pirates on -the one hand and roving bands of Indians on the other. He had skilfully -evaded detection if not always suspicion, and now that he had suffered -almost martyrdom in the end, the generous, cordial people were not the -kind to fling up these vague accusations. - -So the sorrow was over and it was winter again, full of merriment and -gayety, and lovers wooing young girls. Elise Renaud had been married and -Sophie was quite a belle. Rosalie Pichou was the mother of two babies -and had a comfortable home, though her husband traded with New Orleans -and was often gone months at a time. They had to guard against the river -pirates, who frequently sallied out from some peaceful-looking covert, -hidden by woods or a bend in the stream. Occasionally there were Indians -lying in wait, but the men always went well armed, and generally in -quite a fleet, with the goods, the wheat and corn in barges or -flat-bottomed boats, with several canoes for swiftness if they saw a -chance of chastising their enemies. It was comparatively easy to go down -the river, and as each boat had a mast and sails, they sped along -beautifully in a favorable wind. But coming back was generally the -trial, as the tide was against them. Sometimes two boatmen would walk -along the river bank and pull a rope like the later towing line, while -those on the boat steered and with long poles kept the prow from running -into the bank and avoided the snags. - -But before Christmas all the boats that were expected had come in; the -others would remain at New Orleans until more favorable weather. And -this year there was to be a grand ball at the Government House before -the king's ball took place, for in the last trip up the river several -young men had arrived. One was to be secretary to the Commandant. Two -were on their way to Canada and would start when the spring opened. - -Sophie Renaud had run in, full of the news. - -"And you have so many pretty things to wear!" she cried half enviously. -"Your uncle always seems to know, while you might as well ask a stick as -to ask my father to bring you home anything worth while. And the pretty -frock Aunt Barbe sent me last summer is all in shreds. Ma mre declares -I ought to have fawnskin, like an Indian girl. And did you see Madame -Marchand's lovely feather cape on Sunday? It has a row of bluebird -feathers around it that are dazzling." - -Yes, Rene had seen the cape often while it was being made. Three years -it had taken Wawataysee to collect the feathers. She had so many -beautiful ideas. - -"It would set me crazy to do such a thing!" - -Rene laughed. Sophie always flew from one point to another, and -delighted in attire. - -"Wawataysee is coming to see what will be most suitable," returned -Rene. - -"And shall I have to wear the old white silk Cousin Guion gave me? It -has been washed, but mother has pressed it like new. And one of the -young men is very handsome. I saw him as I passed the court-house. -Laflamme I believe he is called, and I predict he will set all the -girls' hearts in a flame if he dances anything as he looks. I hope we -all get a chance. And oh, what fun the king's ball will be! I just hope -I shall be a queen!" - -Rene tossed her pretty head. For the girls in those days gossiped -pretty much as they do now, and were just as eager for pleasure. - -Andr Valbonais dropped in as he often did. He was a great favorite, and -now that he was doing so well under the very eyes of M. Chouteau, he -could afford to have a steady sweetheart. Early marriages were much in -vogue, and though a dot was very good, many a nice girl was married with -only some household articles and bedding. - -Truth to tell, Andr had been very much captivated with Madame Marchand. -Her bravery through those wearisome days and nights of the return, her -sweetness and patience with the little one, had made her an angel to be -adored. M. Marchand's gratitude knew no bounds; indeed, he had been -treated with brotherly affection by them both. Suddenly his eyes had -been opened. It was an insult to any sweet, honorable woman to covet -her, especially when she loved her husband as Wawataysee did. And Andr -struggled to cast the sin out of his heart. She never even dreamed of -such a thing, and for worlds he would not have incurred her displeasure. - -But this it was that had made him care less for the young girls about. -He could not offer any of them a heart that was half another's. - -So in a certain fashion he had been devoted to Rene because she was -such a child, and there was no danger he believed. - -"There will be a great time, I suppose, at the ball," he said, sitting -by the splendid log fire at Gaspard Denys'. "One of my cousins is to -dance with the new Secretary, Monsieur Riv. He came to the mill with -the Governor." - -M. Cruzat was often styled that, but the real Governor of all Louisiana -had his capital at New Orleans. This was the Lieutenant. - -"And is he very handsome?" - -"Oh, good-looking enough," indifferently. "M. Laflamme will take the -winning card. Rene, do not get a heartbreak over him. Take warning." - -"I shall not get a heartbreak over anybody," with a saucy smile. - -"Ah, your time has not yet come!" blowing out wreaths of delicate smoke. - -"Andr, I want you to dance the first dance with me." - -"I am at your service, ma'm'selle. But three new young men and a pretty -girl--you do me great honor," and he made a bow, with an odd, amused -smile. - -"Do you suppose I am going to stand around and cast wistful eyes at -these strangers?" she cried with pretty, mock indignation. "And I shall -be in the very first dance, too." - -"I am made supremely happy, ma'm'selle." - -"And if there is any--if you see me looking--well, disconsolate, you will -ask me again." - -There was a charming imperiousness in her tone. - -"I will obey, ma'm'selle, with great delight." - -"And--Andr, who will be the prettiest girl there?" - -"Merci! Little one, how can I make a choice?" - -"I will tell you: Lucie Aubry, and she will dance with the Secretary the -first thing." - -"Lucie Aubry has not all the beauty of St. Louis." - -"Oh, if she had, what would be left for us?" and Rene made a mirthfully -despairing face. - -"You need not feel alarmed." - -"Oh, I don't," with enchanting gayety. "In the first place, I am not -tall enough, not grand enough. Then my hair should be raven black, and -it is such a funny no-color." - -"It is very handsome," he replied decidedly. "Sometimes in the sun it -looks as if it had gold dust sprinkled over it. And then I've seen it -look as if the top of every wave was touched with silver." - -"That is very beautiful, Andr. I will try to recall the compliment when -it looks to me like a gray-brown. And my nose, see----" - -"Ma'm'selle, you wrinkle it up and it makes you look piquant, saucy. You -couldn't make it bad if you tried." - -"Oh, yes! Look!" She put her finger to the tip of it and gave it a tiny -hitch and then laughed. - -"That shows your curved lips and your lovely teeth. Even that wouldn't -make you a fright." - -"Oh, Andr, how good and comforting you are! But Wawataysee, with her -little Indian blood, is a hundred times handsomer. Only--I am very glad I -suit you and Uncle Gaspard. He thinks I grow like my mother." - -She had been half-dancing round the room in the blaze of the logs. -Families often kept no other light. Now she came and sat down opposite -him, demure as a nun. She had so many fascinating, changeful ways. He -had always considered her a child, but now she was a charming young -girl. This was one of the places where Valbonais felt entirely at home, -because there was no danger of being misinterpreted by any watchful -mamma. He was not quite ready to marry. - -Denys came in and pushed his seat near Rene, who leaned her head on his -shoulder. Now the golden lights shone in her hair--not yellow-gold, but -the richer, deeper color--and a soft rose tint played over her cheek, -while her mouth dimpled at the corners as if she was amused at -something. There would not be many prettier girls at the ball, Valbonais -thought. - -Wawataysee looked over the "treasures" that one way and another had come -into the possession of Gaspard Denys. True, it was a kind of idyllic -time in the history of the town, so far as regarded society. Some of the -families had a gown or a mantilla of lace and fringe that had been -handed down, voyaged from Canada, or more directly from France and New -Orleans. Such articles were only taken out on great occasions, a few -times in the year. But the woman in plain attire had just as delightful -a time if she was vivacious and sparkling and a good dancer. - -For this was the chief amusement of the women. The men had their -shooting matches, not only as a pastime but a good practice, where to be -an excellent marksman was often a protection against Indians; but the -hunts served to provide much of the family living. Many of these people -had come of the better class peasant stock, who from time immemorial had -danced on the greensward on fte days, and not infrequently on Sunday -afternoon, their only holidays. - -There were no theatres, few books, and many of the elder people read -with so much difficulty that they lost interest in it. Oftener legends -and family stories were told over on summer evenings when old and young -sat out in the moonlight, ate little spiced cakes and drank birch beer. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - -AT THE BALL - - -Wawataysee fashioned a frock for Rene out of some silvery threaded -stuff that had soft blue disks here and there, looking almost like bits -of fur. Round the shoulders was a band of blue feathers from jay and -marten and bluebird, skilfully arranged on a strip of cloth. Her full, -girlish throat and arms were bare except for some bracelets and a string -of pearls. Her hair was gathered up in a great knot on top of her head -and fastened with a silver comb set with jewels. When she entered the -ballroom leaning on her uncle's arm half the assemblage turned to look -at her. - -The largest space in the Government House had been cleared for dancing. -There were smaller connecting rooms, and all had been trimmed with -evergreens. The warmth brought out their pungent fragrance. Here a -cluster of scarlet berries, there a branch of brown-red oak, a handful -of yellow hickory leaves bunched like a sunflower. Here was the -Commandant, M. Cruzat, and his staff, with their military accoutrements -much tarnished by wear, and the soldiers at the fort who had worn out -those kept some little shred, perhaps the old buttons, to indicate their -standing. But the young men were in noticeably fresh array. - -Madame Cruzat and the elegant Madame Chouteau were on the other side -with several ladies, bowing and smiling and making a place for some of -the elders. Around the room were ranged seats of rough boards covered -with blankets. In one of the smaller apartments was the band, though it -was composed mostly of violins. - -The elders were to have the upper end of the room in the Court minuet, -the younger people next and in the adjoining rooms. M. Laflamme, a -distinguished-looking young man with an air of what we should call -society, spoke to a lady standing near, who brought him over to -Mademoiselle de Longueville. And at that instant Valbonais approached -smiling and extending his hand. - -She listened to the request with the most dainty modesty. "I regret, -monsieur," she said in a low tone, "but it is a previous engagement." -And now Lucie Aubry might have the pleasure in welcome. She would not -throw over an old friend for a new acquaintance. She held her head up -very proudly and danced the minuet as if she had been a queen. - -After that the real pleasure began. Old and young, with little -formality, yet with the kind of breeding the French never forgot, and -took into the forests with them. Andr need not have watched for Rene's -half warning. If she could have danced with three in the same set, she -had the opportunity. - -M. Laflamme was a little piqued, but he captured her at last. - -"Ma'm'selle," in a pause, "you are a true French girl, name and all. You -might have come from Paris." - -"As I did once upon a time," smiling out of bewitching eyes. - -"Ah! Can you remember?" - -"I was there but one day. At the house of my father. A little child, -eight years or so." - -"Not the Count de Longueville?" - -"The Count de Longueville. At least, _one_ Count. There may be many," -she replied, with drooping, mischievous eyes. - -"But--he has a wife and two sons, the one I mean." - -"My own mother died," and the grave tone was tenderly sweet. "I hardly -knew her. Then I was sent to her people, my grandfather here at St. -Louis." - -"Not--oh, no, not Monsieur Denys!" - -"He is not old enough," she replied, with a touch of vexation. "No. And -now that relative is dead. Monsieur, tell me about my little brothers." - -"I never saw them, but know there are two. They are away somewhere being -educated. Madame the Countess is at court, one of the handsome women -that swell the Queen's train." - -A sort of protest sped through Rene's pulses. Her mother was lying in -an unheeded grave. She remembered being taken to it several times. And -the Count had forgotten about her; another stood in her place. They two -were gay and happy. - -"You would like to go back to France?" tentatively. - -"No, monsieur," and she raised her pretty head proudly. "I would not -leave Uncle Denys for all France has to offer," in a clear, decisive -tone. - -"You rate him very highly. I almost envy him, ma'm'selle," bowing very -low. "There is another dance----" - -Uncle Denys brought up Monsieur Riv, who had been merely presented to -her in the early part of the evening, and he begged for the pleasure of -dancing with her. - -"I thought you were engaged," said Laflamme in a quick tone to Rene. - -"I did not say so, monsieur," she replied in a low tone. "But it is not -considered best to dance right along with one person. I do not quite -know the fashion of courts," raising demure, but fascinating eyes. - -"She would do for a court," he ruminated. - -Rene meanwhile swam away like a graceful bird in a maze of sunshine. M. -Riv was delighted. He had been dancing with Madame Aubry, who had grown -rather stout, and Madame Garis, who was always a little stiff, as she -had descended on both sides from nobility, though it was long ago; but -she desired to keep up a certain state. The mothers expected to have the -young men pay them the compliment of at least one dance. - -But what grace and elegance this young creature possessed! And the -pretty, flower-like face was enchanting in its enjoyment. - -"Do you often have such balls as this?" he asked presently. "I was quite -averse to coming to St. Louis, but I hardly dared decline the -appointment. I thought you--" and he paused. - -"Well, what did you think, monsieur?" with an arch look and in a merry -voice. "That we were part Indian and lived in wigwams?" - -"Oh, no!" coloring. "But we are quite gay at New Orleans. There are many -Spanish people, and the creole women are very beautiful and exquisite -dancers, though they seem a race quite by themselves. And we have a -theatre. You see, it is the great port. So much trade comes to us--the -vessels from Europe, and from some of the cities in the colonies that -have so lately gained their independence." - -"I shall go to New Orleans some time. My uncle has promised me. In the -summer, perhaps." - -"Oh, not next summer!" - -"Why not?" with a dainty toss of the head. - -"Because I am to stay here a year whether or no." - -"Monsieur," with gay audacity, "I believe your business has something to -do with writing letters and keeping accounts. I cannot help you there, -so it could make but little difference." - -"But we shall have the winter. What is this I hear about the king's -ball? Or is it a series of balls?" - -"Oh, monsieur, that is a delight!" She gave a brief description of it. -"And there are four queens. Each chooses a king." - -"I hope you will be a queen. But to have your high honor depend on so -great a chance seems rather discouraging." - -"Still, the king may choose you next time. Then it doesn't always depend -upon a bean," laughing with gay softness. - -"What an odd plan! Ma'm'selle, I hope I may be a king. I never thought -of such an honor before. And I have chosen my queen already." - -The violins dragged out a last slow note. The fiddlers had not learned -to blow it out with a sort of ecstasy. Then Andr Valbonais came, for -the next dance was his and he was very glad. If there was such a thing -as an especial belle of the evening, it was Rene de Longueville. These -new gay fellows must not crowd him out, he resolved. - -There was a promenade after that. Rene fell out of the ranks and -insisted upon sitting down a few minutes. - -"Go and find Sophie Renaud for me," she said to Andr in a dainty tone -of command. - -"And leave you here alone?" - -"I am going to crawl in this corner and rest a bit. And I wonder where -Uncle Denys is?" - -"He has been talking to the Governor. M. Cruzat is not above listening -to the needs of the people. There are to be improvements along the -levee." - -She waved her hand in dismissal. Then she wondered, with a bit of -feminine inconsistency, who would be first to find her out. This would -be a lovely corner for a chat. - -A voice caught her ear. She heard her name mentioned in a complimentary -manner. - -"She is very well born. Although you do not seem to make much of that -here." - -That was Monsieur Laflamme's peculiarly cultivated accent. - -"Yes, on the one side. The other, her grandfather--well, no one is quite -certain. But he left her a fortune and some handsome jewels. How he -obtained both no one really knows." - -"I suppose many things have to be condoned in this new country. In fact, -they have to be in most places," laughing ironically. "The world is -quite turned upside down, but money is on the top everywhere. And the -uncle, he has several interests I have heard. He has no family." - -"He is not a real relative, but a sort of godfather or guardian. She is -like a child to him. There is a story that he was in love with her -mother when they were children. Besides his trading business he has an -interest in the lead mines. And it is said there are some wonderful -discoveries of salt that hunters have found. We shall distance you more -southern people some day." - -"Then M. Denys is one of your prosperous citizens?" - -"Oh, yes, monsieur! We are proud of him." - -"And the young lady will be his heiress?" - -"Most likely. It is hardly probable that he will marry now. Monsieur -Laflamme, if you are looking for a wife with a comfortable dot, here is -your opportunity. A pretty girl, too. Well spoiled; but a husband, if he -has any sense, soon trains a girl aright when she is young." - -Madame Aubry laughed with an inflection of satisfaction. French mothers -seem matchmakers by instinct. She had informed herself about the -newcomers. The two travellers were men of no especial fortunes, and -though she was pleased to have Lucie dance with them, she had other -views for her daughter, who would have no great dowry. Genevieve had a -pretty home near by, and she did not want Lucie to go away. She had her -eye on a very well-to-do person who had already made the proper advances -to her. She could afford to be generous with her neighbors' maids. - -Rene sprang up suddenly, her face aflush with anger. That any one would -consider her fortune made her indignant. She had some fanciful ideas of -love, gleaned largely from Wawataysee and her husband, who since the -attack on St. Louis had guarded her with the utmost devotion, purchasing -a strong, burly slave to be her guard and to watch over his babies. -During his two journeys North she had lived at the Denys's house. There -had been other love matches as well, where the question of dowry had -hardly been thought of, though every mother and father were delighted to -have a hand in the bride's plenishing. - -She almost ran into M. Riv. Then she laughed and drew herself up with a -gesture of half dignity, half amusement. And there was Sophie Renaud and -Valbonais, who looked from one to the other and wondered why Rene had -sent him away. He fancied he read some confusion in her face. - -"The gentlemen are invited to the office," said a servant. "There are -pipes and liquors and cards for those who love play. The ladies will be -refreshed in the anteroom," designating the corridor with a wave of his -hand. - -There were several tables spread here with delicacies that it was -supposed men cared little about. Spiced wines and cordials, fruit dried -and sugared, dainty cakes and various confections. No one thought of a -great supper. The girls crowded by themselves and laughed and chatted, -counting up the times they had danced and the captures they had made, -and what their real lovers had said. In the simplicity of their -enjoyment there was little heart-burning. - -"Rene," exclaimed one of the group, "we shall have to look out for -ourselves! Why, you have only been a child hitherto, and here are all -the men paying court and compliments to you! However, you cannot have my -Jean, for he has spoken to the priest, and though maman thinks it but -short notice, she will get me ready." - -Rose Boucher threw back her head and laughed, showing her pearly teeth. - -"Oh," said Rene merrily, "and last winter we had such nice times -skating on the pond! Now you will not let him skate with us or help us -up the mound or anything!" - -The tone was so disconsolate and the face so full of mock despair that -it was amusing. - -"Not I, indeed! You're not going to have the whole world, Rene de -Longueville, if you have a rich uncle and have danced with all these -newcomers, and had all the room looking at you in your beautiful gown -and your high comb. Has it real diamonds? Dear me! It behooves us to get -betrothed as soon as possible when these young things set up for -admirers." - -So they teased her good-humoredly and she laughed in return, but it -seemed as if she were two people instead of one--a girl enjoying -everything and a woman fearing some things. - -But presently they returned to the dancing. Monsieur Laflamme sought her -out at once. Her first impulse was to decline with high dignity, then a -gleam of mirth shone in her eyes and she accepted. If he wanted to begin -wooing, let him. The inborn coquetry of her nature rose to the surface. -She was bright with a certain childish audacity and her piquancy -attracted him. If he chose he could win her very easily. People in this -New World were making fortunes readily, but Paris would be the place to -spend them. - -Mothers began presently to gather up their charges and express their -pleasure to Madame Cruzat. The fathers had a touch of gallantry as well. -It was very gratifying to feel that the Commandant had their interests -truly at heart and cared for the town. - -Andr Valbonais came to find Rene. - -"I am to see you safe home," he said. "M. Denys is wanted in a little -council they are having." - -The girl made no demur. How lovely they looked in their fur hoods, their -cheeks still rosy, their eyes bright, their chatter full of joy. -Laflamme studied them and wondered who Valbonais could be, with his -unquestioning authority. - -They went down the Rue Royale a happy, light-hearted crowd, crunching -the snow under their feet and looking up at the stars that seemed to -shine with unwonted brilliance, as if they had really usurped the place -of the moon. And here was the Chouteau house, a great white mound, the -dormer windows in the roof like some curious eyes. The throng thinned -out. Rene and Andr turned up their own street. - -"And did you like those newcomers very much?" he began, as if they were -continuing a conversation. - -"They were nice dancers--yes, elegant dancers." - -"They're much interested in the king's ball. Rene, if you draw a bean, -who shall you choose?" - -"Oh, how can I tell? The handsomest man." - -"The handsomest are not always the worthiest." - -"That sounds like a grandam. Why should one care for a night? One dances -for the pleasure." - -"But it may lead to----" - -"To all manner of ills, such as falling in love. I suppose that is a -very great ill. Were you ever in love, Andr?" laughing in a mocking -mood. - -"Oh, with you, a hundred times! Else I should not be so ready to do your -bidding." - -"But with any one else?" - -"Why do you want to know?" - -"But you said you were in love with me." Her tone had in it the -daintiest bit of upbraiding. - -"Yes, when I ran away with you and Wawataysee. When I watched over you -day and night. When I do your bidding now as if I was your slave." - -"There's another kind of love." - -"Ma'm'selle, that's too sacred to talk about lightly." - -Dragon, the great hound, was watching at the gate. He made no objection -when Andr opened it, but he looked up and down the street. - -"Your master will come presently. He is all right," said Andr. "Or, if -you like to, go for him." - -Dragon signified that he did. Andr opened the door. Mre Lunde was -asleep in her chair. She had piled several logs on the fire, and they -had just burst into a blaze that glorified the apartment. Another hound -lay half asleep in the warmth, but he beat his tail to let them know -that he heard. - -Rene threw off her wraps, took out her comb and shook her hair over her -shoulders. What a shining mass it was! Her eyes were softly bright in -their quartz-like glow. Andr thought she had not looked as beautiful -the whole evening, and he was glad without knowing just why. - -"Good-night," he said abruptly. "Friga will see that no harm befalls -you." - -"Thank you, Andr," and she smiled upon him with a sweetness that he -took outside with him. - -"She will be a flirt," he said to himself. "But, after all, she is only -a child and she doesn't know what deep, heartfelt love is. Heaven keep -her from the knowledge until she has had her fling. The bright, winsome -things have the most power." - -Rene was standing there when Uncle Gaspard came in. He put his arms -around her and kissed her shining head and drooping eyelids. - -"You had a nice time?" - -"It was splendid!" in a joyous tone. - -"I like that young Riv very much. M. Cruzat is well pleased with him. -Go to bed, kitten." - -The very next day, when a company were out skating, M. Laflamme and -several others joined the party. If Rene had been lovely in her dancing -gown, she was infinitely more bewitching in this half Indian skating -attire. Laflamme had made some farther inquiries this morning and found -Madame Aubry had not exaggerated. He had been something of a spendthrift -and was now going to Montreal to get his portion of a family estate that -had fallen in, but whether it could be turned speedily to money was -rather doubtful. It was a long journey, he learned, and though he had -begun it with a spirit of adventure, his courage in the matter was -rather oozing out. What if he stayed here and wooed this charming girl -who threw him a fascinating smile now and then, and knew so little of -the world that she could easily be won? The journey in the summer would -be more agreeable, and with her for a companion---- - -The next day was the New Year and the fun began early. The streets were -musical with fiddles and songs. Lovers had puzzled their brains for -pretty rhymes, and many, it must be confessed, were rather lame; but the -frosty air carried the melody, and no one was over-critical. - -Rene had numberless serenades to her soft, love-inspiring eyes, her -cheeks that would make roses envious, her ripe lips where kisses -blossomed, her shining hair that was like a crown, her lithe figure, her -feet that were not large enough to make a print in the snow. - -Gaspard Denys sat one side of the broad fireplace, in the glow of the -ruddy flame, and listened with amusement. The year before he had gone -for Rene he had joined the merry throng. Barbe Guion was a pretty young -girl, and the Renauds had invited him in. And somehow no one ever quite -knew whether Barbe was happy or not. The first time her husband came up -with the boats she could not accompany him on the severe journey. While -he was in St. Louis her little boy was born and died. Once afterward -Gardepier had taken the expedition, but Barbe was not well and had sent -loving messages; was very happy with her little daughter. He wondered -what led him to think of her this night! - -Rene was restless as a bird. She listened to the singing. There was one -very musical French song that was not as fulsome as the others, and she -wondered a little about it. Then the voices in chorus cried out: -"Good-night, master; may good luck be yours. Good-night, young mistress; -may your dreams be sweet of your true love." - -Then the songs were heard in the distance, and presently Andr Valbonais -came in. - -"Did you hear Laflamme?" he asked. "He and Monette went out for the fun, -but they sang some beautiful songs. M'sieu Denys, do you not think it -time some of this foolishness was broken up? Not that I have anything -against serenading, and really they did finely at the Commandant's. But -the soldiers were out, and that helped." - -"It's an old habit. And the young fellows enjoy it." - -"Andr, are you getting too old for fun? Why, I think it's quite -delightful. I was sure I heard a new voice. And it is the first time I -have been serenaded. Oh, dear! I wonder who I shall dream about?" - -Yes, she had only been a child; now she was a young girl, not quite a -woman, a gay, wilful, enchanting young girl. Did Denys know it? He was -lazily stretched out, with his hands in his pockets, gazing at the fire, -dreaming of long ago, and Rene Freneau, of another time and Barbe -Guion. - -Andr gave a little cough. "Of your true love, ma'm'selle." - -"There are so many," with a laughable assumption of weariness. "And to -doubt their truth would be cruel." - -"There can be only one true love." - -"But each serenader thinks his the true one." - -He had not joined in the foolishness. - -"What they think does not so much matter, ma'm'selle. It is what is in -the woman's heart." - -"And she cannot go out serenading her true love." - -"Would you want to, ma'm'selle?" - -"I should like to find out who he was," and she laughed. - -Denys roused himself suddenly and began to talk business. Andr was -working his way up in the Chouteau mill and was in high favor with its -owners. What would happen when the spring opened, for St. Louis was -growing to be a larger business centre? England, the talk was, had ceded -her rights to the river and all the eastern shore to the new colonial -government, which would make fresh treaties with Spain. The Ohio River -was another promising branch. In fact, everything seemed tending to -strange and uncertain prospects. - -Denys would have been more than amazed if a vision of fifty years later -had crossed his brain there in the firelight. And a hundred years--that -would have sent him quite crazy. - -But the king's ball was the next thing. They were such a pleasure-loving -people at this time; indeed, the winters would have been very dreary -without the pleasure. - -So the merry crowd came and the cake was made. Everybody who could -gathered as usual, and the children added zest in the early part of the -evening, exchanging their gifts and eating their _trennes_. The stately -dances of the elder people, and then the gavotte, the airy _passe-pied_, -and afterward the merry spinning round in all kinds of fancy steps, in -which some of the young men excelled. - -Then twelve boomed out and one of the matrons cut the cake, another -dealt out the pieces just as they came, so there should be no -favoritism. Rene's had in it no bean--was she glad or sorry? For two -pairs of eyes watched her eagerly. - -"I shall have to wait until next year!" she exclaimed, with a -captivating _moue_ of disappointment. - -"Or the next ball," said Laflamme. "I hope some one will take pity on -me. I should like a taste of royalty." - -Sure enough he was chosen. Monsieur Riv as well. Monette had been -tempted by a hunting expedition. He was not so fond of merriment, and -had left a sweetheart in New Orleans. - -Laflamme was rather annoyed. He had to pay his devotion to his queen, -but he would make up for it next time. Andr had no rival to fear then, -though Rene was besieged with invitations. - -Yet with all the apparent freedom, a young man waited to be asked by the -head of the house before presenting himself to any young lady. And there -was no madame here looking out that this rose should not be left on the -household stem. - -There are natures that opposition whets into ardent desire, and -Laflamme's was one of these. He had become a guest at Madame Aubry's, -but he was too well bred to ask so great a favor of her so soon. Yet at -the night of the second ball he was impatiently waiting. As Rene -emerged from the dressing-room he handed her the bouquet, and she -accepted it with a smile, but she was a little vexed at heart. She would -rather have had the compliment from Monsieur Riv, but she was gratified -to be a queen. - -For somehow her heart rather misgave her. Out on the pond skating, or in -the merry sledging parties, she had managed to evade any special -overtures. There were other young men who considered her bright and -pretty, but to them she was still an eager, rather spoiled child, hardly -to be considered in a fair field for winning, though more than one had -counted up her possible fortune. There was another virtue among these -simple people, loyalty. One young man rarely interfered with another's -sweetheart. A peculiar kind of consent had given her to Andr Valbonais. -He was doing well, a steady young fellow and high in favor with Pierre -Chouteau, who entrusted a great deal of the business to his care. Then -he was in and out at Gaspard Denys', as no young man would be unless he -was willing to give him his darling Rene. - -Laflamme danced with her, and the grace and lightness of her step made -it an exquisite pleasure. He glanced over the girls. There were many who -were pretty with the charm of youth, some who were lovely with the finer -dowry of beauty, that wifehood and motherhood only enhances. A few -generations ago these settlers, many of them, came from peasant stock, -and at least on one side _she_ had fine blood. It showed in her with the -many indescribable points that he could distinguish readily. Still, he -would not have taken any woman with poverty unless it were some court -favorite the King or Queen would dower. - -True, Gaspard Denys might marry and raise up sons and daughters, but he -would make sure that Rene had her portion of his wealth. And although -this was a wild, uncultivated sort of life, there were possibilities of -gain in it. The lead mines were believed to be inexhaustible, though the -method of working them was imperfect. Denys had a share in the -enterprise and sometimes spent weeks at Fort Chartres, as the lead was -sent from there to New Orleans. At such times the Marchands came over to -stay, or Andr Valbonais slept in the house. - -Laflamme had enjoyed his bachelorhood extremely, and admitted to himself -it would be a bother to have to think about a wife. But if his Montreal -affairs should prove unsuccessful it might be a most excellent thing to -have a dependence to fall back upon. And when it came to that he would -not be really compelled to take Rene to France; he would, no doubt, -return to America. - -They had finished their dance, but M. Laflamme still kept Rene's hand -and held her attention by some amusing incidents until the music began -again. Then she was fain to release it. No one had asked her for this -dance--there had been no opportunity. - -"I have you, little prisoner." he said, with a meaning smile. "Come, -this is too delightful to forego." - -"No, I would rather not dance," hesitatingly. - -"You cannot plead fatigue, since you have only danced once," he declared -insistently. - -He impelled her into the line with a gentle firmness she could not -resist, though every line of her face, every pulse in her body, -protested against it. Two dances in succession were too pronounced, -unless one was betrothed or likely to be. - -In spite of it all she found herself whirling about the line, in a -keeper's charge she felt. The young men looked rather questioningly; the -girls exchanged glances, the elder women nodded, as if this set the seal -to their surmises. Rene's face was scarlet and her eyes downcast. Would -it never come to an end? She was growing more and more resentful, -indignant. - -"Now we will take a turn about----" - -"Where is Elise?" she interrupted. Elise Renaud had been married long -enough to play chaperone. Madame Marchand had expected to attend, but in -the afternoon one of the babies had been taken ill. And there were -mothers enough to watch over the young girls. - -"No, you do not want Elise," mimicking her tone in a soft, yet decisive -manner. "And I want you. I have something to say----" - -"No! no!" she cried in alarm, wrenching her hand away, and she would -have fled, but she almost ran into Andr Valbonais's arms. - -"Oh, keep me!" she cried under her breath. "Take me away--keep -me from----" - -"What is the meaning of this?" and he looked from the small, trembling -figure in his arms to Monsieur Laflamme. - -"Ma'm'selle de Longueville had a turn--I think it was the heat--or, -perhaps we danced too hard. You in this new country take things so much -in earnest. Then we came out here for a breath of air. She is better -already. She is my queen for the evening. Ma'm'selle, when you are ready -to go back----" - -Laflamme was the embodiment of gentleness and perfect breeding, and as -he gazed tranquilly at Andr, the young man felt the indescribable -difference, and withal a certain power that was like authority over -Rene. Oh, what if--and suddenly Andr Valbonais knew the child's play; -the pretty imperiousness of ownership had a deeper meaning for him. He -would dispute this man's claim. What was it but trifling? The two men -were as transient guests in the town. They would go away as soon as the -spring opened. But this one should not trifle with little Rene. Ah! he -did not look like trifling. The resolution in his face startled Andr. - -"Ma'm'selle Rene," he began, "are you ill? Shall I take you home?" and -Andr's eyes questioned. - -There was an ardent pressure on the small hand that said -authoritatively, "Come! come!" It roused the spirit of wilfulness, of -which she had quite too much. And what was there to be afraid of? She -was suddenly courageous. - -"I am better now," she said. "We will go back. But I will not dance. -Monsieur Laflamme, choose some other partner. One does not dance every -time, even with a king. We rule our own court here and make our own -laws. And I will lend the fair one my rose." - -She took Andr's arm and smiled up in the other's face with the most -provoking nonchalance. Laflamme gnawed his lip. He was very angry. - -"I shall not consent to that. I am not so easily transferred, -ma'm'selle." - -"But you must go and dance. You will break the circle. Monsieur -Valbonais and I will look on." - -She turned, her head held up haughtily. There was nothing to do but -follow or make a scene, which was not to be thought of. - -"And here is Lucie Aubry, the most queenlike girl in the room. You two -look splendid on the floor. Ma'm'selle Lucie, will you take my rose?" - -"Ma'm'selle Aubry does not need it. May I have the pleasure?" Laflamme -placed himself between the two and led Lucie away. - - - - -CHAPTER XV - -GATHERING THISTLES - - -"What happened?" asked Andr abruptly. "Were you ill, or--or offended?" - -"I was dizzy and warm, that was all." - -"Rene," he began presently, "that man is playing with you. He is -endeavoring to win your affections, and he will go away soon and you -will be left to get over it as best you may." - -"Get over what?" Her look and tone were so demure, so innocent, that he -studied her in amaze. - -"Why," with some embarrassment, "if you care for him--and now I -remember----" - -A definite feeling that could hardly be called emotion swept over him. -And he knew now he was cherishing a vague dream that some day she would -love him. - -"Well, what is it you remember?" in a sweet, half malicious, half -mocking tone. - -"He has been with you a great deal of late. On the ice and at sledging, -and at the last dance. Men of his stamp love to flirt with pretty -girls--yes, love to win their hearts and then leave them in the lurch. -That is what he is doing. He is not in earnest." - -That vexed her. She flushed and looked prettier than ever, but -tormenting as well, as a half-veiled touch of indignation seemed to pass -from her shining eyes. - -"As if I cared!" with a laugh like the softest ripple. - -"Then--you do not--love him?" - -Andr's voice had the hoarseness of an unspoken fear in it. He was -amazed at the boldness of his question. - -"Why should I love him? Why should I want to go away from this dear -home, from Uncle Gaspard?" - -"But he will persuade you----" - -"Will he?" She glanced up so daring, so defiant and resolute, that he -gave a happy laugh. - -"That is right. Oh, Rene, child, do not let any one persuade you! You -are too young. And then, by and by--yes, you will know some one cares for -you with his whole soul, will lay all that he has at your feet----" - -"He had better not. I should simply dance over it. Now let us go back. I -am all rested. You shall have the next dance with me." - -Monsieur Laflamme made no movement toward her, but seemed quite devoted -to a new partner. Did he really care so much? Rene felt piqued with -this display of indifference. This dance had a chain of persons going in -and out and turning partners. As that gentleman approached she gave her -rose a caressing touch and glanced up with eyes so alight and full of -beseechingness that he pressed her hand in token that all was peace -between them, and her wilful heart exulted. - -"My charming queen," he said in an appealing tone, "may I come back to -my rightful place and sun myself in your smiles? Did I offend you?" - -She was not used to such flowery speech, but it sounded delightful to -her. And yet it did not seem quite sincere. But she waved her hand -playfully to Andr and went with M. Laflamme to the head of the row of -dancers. It was hardly likely she would be queen again after to-night. - -Andr Valbonais looked on puzzled, confused. He danced with several -other girls, he chatted with the mothers and fathers, but it seemed as -if one side of his nature did not respond to anything. It was so -curiously cold that the smiles Rene lavished on every one did not -arouse any jealous resentment. It was like an ice-bound stream that -would awaken presently; the spring sunshine never failed to burst the -bounds. - -They came to the end of the night's pleasure. Several lovers were -glancing at each other with confident, lingering smiles that mothers -understood and did not disapprove of, even while they hurried their -daughters away. - -"There can be but one more ball, Lent falls so early," said some one. - -"True. Well, let us make it on Tuesday night." - -"Oh, you forget! That is the masked ball." - -"What matter, so long as there is dancing and fun?" - -"But we are not all allowed at the masked ball. That is more for the -older people. Oh, I hope next year I shall be a queen!" - -So they chatted in their gay youth. Andr fastened Rene's fur cloak and -drew the hood over her face. Had she ever looked so sweet and -bewildering before? Monsieur Laflamme wished her good-night and happy -dreams, then bending low, whispered: - -"But they must be of me. I shall dream of you." - -She colored vividly. - -The quiet streets were filled with echoes of talk. Two or three dropped -out here, a few more there. Rene and Andr called out good-night and -turned in their square. - -Gaspard Denys was smoking his pipe before the cheerful blazing fire, a -picture of comfort. - -"Oh, you lazy uncle!" Rene cried, but her voice had gayety, and not -disappointment in it. "You did not come to see me as the queen. And I -may never be that again." - -"A queen! And whose queen, pray?" - -"M. Laflamme chose me. And M. Riv was one of the kings. I don't know -why, but I believe I like him better. And he looked especially well -to-night. Why didn't you come?" with an enchanting pout of her rosy -lips. - -"I had a long list of accounts to go over. And then, pretty one, you had -Andr to bring you home. Besides, I am growing old and, like Mre Lunde, -love the chimney corner." - -"Oh, you are not old! I will not have you growing old. Why, the fathers -with their grown-up children were there. And some women have -grandchildren. Good-night, Andr," nodding to him. - -Andr took his dismissal cheerfully. - -Rene crawled in Gaspard's lap and put her soft arms about his neck, -laid her cheek to his. - -"Oh," she cried in a tone of pathos, "I do not want you ever to get old! -You are just right now." - -"My dear, do you want always to stay fifteen?" - -"Yes, I should be glad to. Oh, what makes the world whirl round so! And -I shall be sixteen in the summer, and then--no, I won't go on. Can't you -take something, do something----" - -"There was a man once who fell asleep and slept for years. When he awoke -his friends were dead, or had gone away----" - -"Oh, hush! hush! I do not mean anything so dreadful as that," she -entreated. - -"Then we must go on and take all the pleasure we can to-day, or -to-night--though I believe it is to-morrow morning now, and you must run -to bed." - -She kissed him and turned slowly. She wanted to ask some curious -questions, but they were vague and would not readily shape themselves -into words. - -He still sat and thought. Sixteen. It gave him an uneasy feeling. If she -could always stay a little girl! If he might map out her life! Andr -Valbonais had the making of a fine, trusty man, a good business man as -well. If he could come here as a son of the house. If they three could -go on together, and a merry throng of children grow up about them! - -The dream was rudely broken to fragments the next day. The young man of -six or seven and twenty who stood leaning against the counter, one foot -half crossed over the other, with an easy, gentlemanly air that -betokened training beyond what the average habitant of the new countries -acquired, was well calculated to win a woman's heart, a girl's heart, -perhaps too easily caught, satisfied with the outward indications of -manliness. Gaspard Denys could not quite tell why, but in his heart he -did not altogether approve of this fine gentlemen, for all his good -looks, his well-modulated voice and excellent breeding. - -And he had asked him for the pride of his eye, the idol of his heart, -the dearest thing on earth, to take her away for years, perhaps forever, -and leave him to the loneliness of old age! And, monstrous thought, he -was persuaded that Rene would love him when he had spoken. He had seen -indications of it. Last evening he had startled her by some vehemence, -for in spite of her apparent gayety and merriment she was a tender, -sensitive plant. He would woo her with the utmost gentleness after the -permission was once given. - -"She is so young," Gaspard Denys began reluctantly. "Whether a girl at -that time of life knows her own mind, is able to choose wisely----" - -"But it is the guardians and parents generally who choose. A little -advice, suggestion--and I think I can satisfy you on any point you -desire. Ma'm'selle Rene would go back to the standing of her father's -family. She would have advantages, and I may succeed to a title. Still, -now I only present myself, and rely upon no adventitious aids." - -"It would be--for her to decide. And I would rather have her here. Her -father, it seems, cared little enough about her. No, I do not think I -could give her up," decisively. - -"But it is not absolutely necessary that I return to France," in a -gravely gentle tone. "After my affairs in Montreal are settled, which I -hope will turn out profitably, I should be free to do as I liked, or as -another liked," smiling affably. - -"We will not decide this matter hastily. If you chose to go to Montreal, -and the spring will soon open," M. Denys said tentatively. - -M. Laflamme thought he had only to ask to have. He fancied Gaspard Denys -would be very glad to marry his adopted daughter into a good family--for, -after all, her grandfather had not been held in high esteem. A little -persuasion on Denys's part, a little setting forth of the advantages, -and he could manage to do the rest by flattery and cajolery. He began to -half wish he had not taken a step in the matter, but he could not draw -back now. - -"I should like to know that my suit was favorably looked upon before I -went," was the rejoinder. - -"Oh, you may soon know that. To-morrow, perhaps." - -"Meanwhile may I see Ma'm'selle de Longueville?" - -"She is at the Marchands'." - -Monsieur Laflamme bowed. He did not care to subject himself to the -clear, intent eyes of Madame Marchand. They were too penetrating. - -A fortune was not so easily won, after all. Fate was playing at -cross-purposes. Rene and Wawataysee were skimming over the lake in an -ice boat. If he had guessed that he might have walked home with her in -the twilight. - -Rene was brilliant with the bloom of the frosty air as she came in, and -her eyes were like stars. A pang went to Gaspard's heart. Ought she not -take her place on a higher round than this little town of traders and -trappers and farmers, many of them scarcely knowing how to read? There -might be beautiful, satisfactory years before her--years with educated, -refined people. He knew something of the larger cities and their -advantages; he could guess at many of the charms of the beautiful, -fascinating, historic Paris, with its palaces and villas and works of -art and wonderful gardens. Should she be shut out of all these and -affiliate with the wilderness of the New World? No. If it broke his -heart, she should be free to choose. - -"You had a fine time!" he commented. - -"Oh, splendid! Do you know, I shall hate to have the snow and ice -vanish! Oh, you should have seen the sky to-night when the red sun -dropped down behind the mountains and everything was illumined as from -some mighty blaze. And then fading, changing to such gorgeous colors. -Oh, what is back of it all? What wonderful power and glory?" - -Yes, she was capable of appreciating higher and finer opportunities than -any she would ever have here. - -He went through to the shop. He could not enjoy the fire when Mre Lunde -was clattering pots and pans. But he had his own, if the place was a -conglomeration of everything. He had made himself a big, easy chair, and -the great buffalo-skin thrown over it kept off drafts. The fire was -poked up; the dry pine made an exhilarating blaze, and the pungency -affected one like drinking wine--sent a thrill to the farthest pulse. - -Rene came and stood in the light of the blaze, that made a Rembrandt -picture of her. She watched the dancing, leaping flames. She smiled, -turned grave, then smiled again, and presently caught sight of the -serious face watching her. - -"What is it?" she asked, dropping down on a log, fur-covered for a -stool. - -"Rene, I wonder if you would like to go away and visit wonderful, -beautiful countries, where people have books and pictures and fine -houses, and where there are elegant men and women----" - -"Why? Are you going?" - -She took the rather rough hand in hers, soft as velvet, and gazed at him -out of surprised eyes. - -"Would you like to go?" studying her lovely face. - -"Not without you," gravely. - -"But if some one younger and handsome, well-informed, accustomed to a -more refined life, should care for you, should want to take you, -should----" - -"Oh, what is it you mean? And who is it? And I could not go unless"--her -face was scarlet--"unless he married me, I know that. And there is no one -I would marry. Do you think I would go away and leave you, when I love -you so, when you wanted me and no one else did? Why, I would not marry a -king!" and she clasped her arms about his neck. - -Then a sudden knowledge flashed over her. She recalled last evening. - -"I know!" she exclaimed. "It is Monsieur Laflamme. And he dared----" - -She clinched her small fist. - -"Then he spoke last night? And you----" - -"No, he did not speak. But you can make one understand. Perhaps he might -have, but Andr came." - -Rene rose suddenly and stretched up her full height. - -"Then he did mean-- Andr said he was only pretending. I should hate him -still more if he could do that! But if he thinks I care for him and -would go away with him to the fairest spot in the world--oh, you do not -want me to!" and she threw herself into his arms, sobbing vehemently. - -"Rene, child, there is no harm done. He was very gentlemanly. He asked -for your hand as an honest man should. And we cannot blame him -altogether," a spice of humor in his tone. "He fancied you cared for -him. Men occasionally make mistakes." - -Had she made him believe that? She had tried somewhat without -considering the consequences. The little triumph _had_ appealed to her -girlish vanity. How could she explain it? - -"I liked him a little," she confessed brokenly. "And I was proud and -delighted to be chosen his queen. But I do not want him to love me. I do -not want any one to love me but just you. I shall never love any one -else." - -It was a very sweet confession, but she did not know what it meant. So -her mother had said, and he wanted to believe he had held _her_ truest -faith, and this had descended to her child. - -"Then what am I to tell him? That you are too young to think about such -things?" - -"That I shall never think about him in that manner. Oh, make him -understand that!" - -"There, dear, it is not worth crying over. He is not the first man who -has found the rose out of reach or been pricked by thorns." - -Gaspard turned up the sweet, flushed, tear-wet face and kissed it. He -was so glad to have it back safe and innocent of the great knowledge -that sooner or later comes to all womanhood. Some day it would come to -her, but let him keep his little girl as long as he could. - -So it was all settled, but Rene could not feel quite at rest about it. -These people did not make tyrants of conscience; they were not -analytical nor given to inquisitorial scrutiny of every feeling or -motive. The priests were as simple-hearted as the people. True, some of -them were considered rather lax when they had left their people open to -Protestant influences. But here there were no Protestants, no religious -arguments. To tell the truth, to be honest, just and kindly was creed -enough for the women. Their hearts were not probed to the deepest -thought. They confessed a bit of temper, a little envying, perhaps some -laxness about prayers, and took a simple penance. Church-going was one -of their pleasures. - -Yet Rene had a kind of misgiving that she had thrown at Monsieur -Laflamme some of those radiant looks that might mean much or little, -according to one's way of translating them. She put the thought of -marriage far away from her. Some time a delightful, devoted man, like M. -Marchand, might cross her path. He was so strong and yet so gentle. He -was always thinking of what would please Wawataysee. Even now, with two -babies, he went out rambling with her, and they came home laden with -wild flowers or berries. Then it was out canoeing, of which the young -wife was extremely fond. - -But it did not seem as if M. Laflamme would be given to this kind of -devotion. He would seek to bend a woman to his will. There were wives -who cheerfully bowed their heads to their masters, but as a general -thing these simple-minded French husbands were not tyrants. - -She did not like him to come so near; it made her afraid. And, girlish -contradiction, she had delighted in her power of bringing him near, of -tasting the sweets of a certain kind of exaction. Andr always yielded -to her whims and seldom had any will of his own. - -She sat in the garden awhile listening to the birds and a pretty -black-eyed squirrel, who kept running up and down the tree beside her -and looking as if he would presently jump on her shoulder. Then she saw -Andr coming up the path, and a tormenting impulse seized her. She -skipped across the grass with a triumph of laughter in her eyes. - -"Andr!" she cried gayly. "Andr, you were quite mistaken--" How should -she word it? - -"Mistaken! About what?" and he raised his honest eyes, half amused. - -"About--Monsieur Laflamme. You said that he did not mean anything; that -he only cared to win a girl's heart and cast it away. It is not true. -You were very unjust. He has been here. He has asked Uncle Gaspard for -my hand. He would like to marry me. And I am not quite sixteen!" in a -tone of exultation. - -She mistook the fleeting color for a fit of vexation that he had been -wrong, though people generally turned red when they were angry. It -seemed to him all the blood rushed out of his body, whither he knew not, -but left him as one dead. And there was a solemn tolling of bells in his -ears. - -She was enjoying his unlooked-for mood with a certain sense of triumph. - -"Oh, the pity of the blessed saints, of the sweet Virgin herself! And -you mean to marry him!" - -"Well, if I did?" saucily. "I dare say there are girls who would jump at -the prospect." - -"But you know next to nothing about him. He may have a wife already -somewhere. Such things have been. Oh, Monsieur Denys cannot, will not -let you go!" - -That was like a strain of sweet music to her. Then she laughed and he -looked puzzled. - -"Oh," with an airy toss of the head, "I don't believe Uncle Gaspard -would break my heart and make me miserable if I had cared a great deal -for M. Laflamme. But I do not want to marry any one. I do not want to go -away. I am very happy here. Why, there isn't a man in the world like -Uncle Gaspard!" - -There was a great revulsion in every pulse. The warm blood came back to -Andr's cheek and the strange look went out of his eyes. - -"But you see you _were_ mistaken. You gave him hard and unjust judgment. -I suppose he must have loved me or he wouldn't have wanted to marry me. -There is no lack of pretty girls in the town." - -She held her head with triumphant assurance. Her eyes were brimming -over, her red lips full of saucy curves, in which seemed to lurk budding -kisses for some lover. - -But Andr blundered, as inexperience sometimes will. - -"It is not only the beauty, ma'm'selle. Laure Eudeline is like a -picture, but without a sou or a silver spoon for her portion. Has M. -Laflamme looked at her twice? And you have a dot that would make many -men covet you. Every one knows it will only grow larger in M'sieu -Denys's hands. And I dare say _he_ would like the pleasure of handling -it." - -Rene had rarely thought of her fortune. And the most exquisite, the -most romantic dream of a young girl is to be loved for herself alone. -Andr had suddenly dashed this enchanting belief to fragments. Yes, -there _was_ the fortune, a hard, solemn fact. Must she suspect every one -henceforward? - -"Andr," she cried in passionate anger, "you are small and mean and -suspicious! I hate you!" - -It was the truth, since Andr had heard Madame Aubry and one or two -others commend Monsieur Laflamme for his wisdom. Some man would marry -Mademoiselle de Longueville in a year or two. But it was an unfortunate -way of putting her on guard. And it stings a girl with mortification to -hear a man belittled who has paid her the compliment of a marriage -proposal. - -The young fellow walked away. There was something fine and solid about -him, she had to admit, angry as she was. Almost as tall as Uncle Gaspard -and with a compact, yet lithesome figure, carrying his head well, -stepping with decision and having an air of command with most people, -but never with her, for she ruled him. - -Her anger was short-lived, after all. When she quarrelled with him there -always came up a procession of remembrances. She knew now what might -have been her fate as a captive, and he had saved her from that. He had -gone without food that she and Wawataysee would not lose their strength -until they had reached some place of safety. He had carried her that -last night. Yes, she was an ungrateful, exasperating little thing, and -after all she did not _really_ hate him. She would not even want him to -go out of her life. Suddenly she thought she would not even like him to -love some other girl. - -He had a long conversation with Gaspard Denys that comforted him a good -deal. Denys was like an older brother, taking a great interest in his -advancement, advising him as to what was best to do with his savings, -but as yet he had never said, "You had better marry some nice, thrifty -girl." Somehow he was very glad of that. - -She lingered around in the old garden and the happy light came back to -her eyes, the balmy air soothed her ruffled temper. In her secret heart -she believed M. Laflamme had really loved her. If there were other -pretty girls in the world, there were other rich girls, too. In Canada, -where he was going, there were real heiresses, though how much it took -to constitute one she had no idea. - -He did not come through the garden. Perhaps he meant to stay to supper. -Then she would be rather grave and dignified, and show him that he had -seriously offended her. - -"Rene! Rene, _petite_!" called Mre Lunde. - -There was a quick stride down the street. It turned the corner. She -pulled a rose and unthinkingly pressed it to her lips. - -"Andr!" she said in a rather appealing tone. - -The tall figure bent over the fence, and the eyes were touched with an -eager, responsive light. - -"Andr, were you _very_ angry? I was----" - -"Oh, ma'm'selle, who could long be angry with one so charming?" and his -whole heart was in his voice. - -She gave him the rose. "I must run in to supper," and she vanished like -a sprite. - -"She kissed the rose," he said, pressing it to his lips. "Oh, -ma'm'selle, no sweeter flower ever bloomed. But you are a rose set in -thorns. The fragrance clings to you, the thorns prick others." - - - - -CHAPTER XVI - -THE RISE IN THE RIVER - - -There was news enough at Madame Renaud's. Every year she grew a little -stouter, a trifle more consequential. The grandmres always were. Elise -and Louis both had little daughters. There had been sons before, but -granddaughters were rather nearer, it seemed. She must make a -christening cake for both, and she thanked the saints that the church -had been freshened up a little and that the good Vicar-General had made -a gift of a new altar cloth. - -The other news was not so joyous. Barbe Gardepier had never been home -since her marriage. Women travelled very seldom in those days. Once her -baby boy had been born and died, then her little girl was just born. And -now she had lost her husband, and was coming back to St. Louis to live. - -Jean Gardepier had died early in the winter. But news was slow in -coming. This had been sent with the first relay of boats, and she would -be up in June with her little girl. - -"And to think of the sorrow of the poor thing!" exclaimed Madame Renaud, -wiping her eyes. "Here I have my good man Louis and my four children -around me, three of them in homes of their own, and never a sorrow, -while she is left alone to sup bitter grief! And not a relative near -her! The saints be praised when it is possible for families to stay -together. Then there is a friendly voice to console you." - -They all remembered pretty Barbe Guion. The old grandmre had died--that -was natural in old age--but aunts and uncles and cousins were living, so -it was a family grief. - -But the christening came to break the sorrow and there was a grand time. -Spring had come late this year. With a rather hard winter, streams and -rivers had been choked with ice, but now all was bloom and beauty and -gladness. - -There were always some special prayers and a mass said on Corpus Christi -day, and it was kept with great seriousness at Gaspard Denys'. But the -Indians all about were so friendly that fears were allayed, though the -town was better protected now. - -There had been very heavy spring rains, and this, with the sunshine, -gave promise of abundant harvests. Farmers had begun to plant wheat and -rye, which brought back old memories of pleasant life in sunny France -when taxes and tithes were not too high. - -Amid all this smiling content there was one morning a strange sound. Men -paused at their work and listened. Sometimes in a high wind the sound -came rushing over the prairie like the tramp of an army, and seemed to -threaten everything with destruction. Occasionally the river rose, but -since the founding of the towns no great harm had been done. - -On it came, nearer, with a thundering boom that now could not be -mistaken. Men rushed to the levee to be sure that the boats were made -safe. They looked up the river, standing on the high ground. What was -this terror marching toward them? A seething, foaming flood with great, -dark waves tossing up a yellow-black spray, sweeping all before it. - -"The river! The river is rising!" was shouted by terrified voices, and -men looked at each other in fear. They had never seen anything like it. -There had been freshets that had done considerable damage, torn out -banks and sent down great drifts of broken and uprooted trees. There had -been ice gorges, when the cakes of ice would pile up like Arctic mounds, -crashing, thundering, and suddenly give way, dazzling in the sunshine -like a fleet of boats and, sweeping down the river, crush whatever was -in its way. - -But this was a great wall, starting up no one knew where, swelled by the -streams, expanded by the Missouri, sweeping all before it, submerging -Gaboret Island, gathering momentum every moment, swirling at every point -and curve, as if longing to beat them out of existence, and with an -accumulation of uprooted trees so jammed together that many of them -stood upright, a great army of devastation. - -The current was very swift in any freshet. Although it was called the -great river, that applied more to its length, for here it was not much -over two thousand feet wide. But it was deep, with a dangerous power -when it rose in its might, and fed by so many streams and tributaries -that the _dbris_ was constantly washing down to the gulf at its -numerous mouths. - -They gazed in speechless terror at first, as if they would be helpless -in the grasp of such a giant, and the roar was appalling. The spray -seemed dashed up in the very face of heaven; the rending, tearing and -crushing was terrific. The very trees shrieked as they were torn from -their foundation. On it rushed, a great, dark, fierce wall, sweeping -everything in its way, tearing out banks, booming like the roar of -artillery, shrieking with madness, as if hundreds of people were crying -out for help and safety. The crowd looked at each other in dismay. Some -fled to the next higher range, many sank helplessly to the ground, -others were on their knees praying. And when it struck the little town -it seemed like a mighty earthquake, and the ground fairly shuddered as -it rushed by furiously. - -The boats that had been drawn up to a safe line, as was thought, were -swept off to join the mad, careering mass and add to the rending, -deafening sound. And when the first accumulation had swept by and was -whirling around the bend of the river another and still another -followed. Was the whole north going to be precipitated upon them? - -The curve in the river did the town this much good: it swept the fierce -current to the eastern side, tore out, submerged, and by the time it -turned it was below the town. They were not to be swept quite away, and -some of the braver ones began to take courage and ventured to look at -the levee below. That was gone, of course. - -It was a day and a night of terror. The flood had submerged a part of -the Rue Royale and some of the residents had moved their belongings to -higher ground. Trading houses had been emptied of their goods. Gaspard -Denys shrugged his shoulders with intense satisfaction. Up here past the -Rue de l'Eglise all was safe and dry. - -For days there seemed a spell upon the people. They could do little -besides watch the receding river and view the wreckage it had left in -its wake. Great caves and indentations on the opposite shore, bare -spaces where trees had waved their long green arms joyously in the -sunshine a few days ago. Yet they found they had not fared so badly. -Everybody turned out to help repair damages. - -What of the fleet of boats coming up the river? What of the towns below? - -"And my poor Barbe!" cried Madame Renaud. "Why, they would be almost -home, unless the boats were swept to destruction. Only a miracle could -have saved them. And oh, then, where are they?" - -True. The waters had subsided so much it would be safe to go in search -of them. There were several coves less infested now with pirates than -formerly, where boats sometimes put in to avoid the storms. Colonel -Chouteau at once had two boats made ready and stored with provisions, in -case of a rescue of any voyagers. - -Then some trading fleets ventured from St. Charles. All along the shores -on both sides were marks of devastation. Great chasms had been created -here, and there mounds of broken trees and tons of river mud deposited -over them. Gaboret Island began to show its head, but it had been swept -clean. - -The farther down the river went, the more appalling had been the -destruction. The fate of the towns below they could only guess at, but -the news came presently. Cahokia had been nearly swept out of existence. -Part of Kaskaskia, the oldest part built on the river bluff, had been -torn away by the resistless force. People were flying hither and -thither, having lost their all. - -Andr Valbonais had headed the rescuing party--if, indeed, there was -anything to rescue. The mighty river had gone back to its normal state; -the banks, encrusted with yellow mud, were drying in the sun. They found -curious changes. Two of the little coves were filled with _dbris_ and -gave no indication of sheltering any travellers. - -They passed the Miramec River with no sign. That, too, had all its banks -submerged, and the tough grasses and reeds were just rearing their -heads. On again, here was quite a bluff. Just around the turn had been a -noted pirate resort, broken up two or three times; at the last time with -the cost of a number of lives. - -"Do you suppose it will be safe?" queried the captain. "There may be -Indians in hiding." - -Valbonais reconnoitred awhile. "Up above there is the smoke of a fire," -he said. "And I think I see a boat just beyond the turn. Get your arms, -men, and be ready to back out if we are in danger." - -They crept on cautiously. Now they could see two boats drawn up on a -ledge. Farther up there was a cluster of men. - -"They are not pirates, surely. They would have some scouts stationed if -they were." - -"They are making signs. Oh, no, they are neither Indians nor pirates," -and the captain dug the pole in the soft bank, impelling the boat up a -yard or two. And then he heard a joyful cry, which he answered by an -encouraging greeting through the horn he carried. - -It was, indeed, the stranded voyagers. The captain of the fleet came -running down the winding path. He was a Spaniard, quite well known in -St. Louis, Dessous by name. - -As to his story, all had been fair sailing, with mostly fine weather -until they had reached this point. At the first sight they feared a -hurricane was upon them. The river began to seethe and swell, and the -noise of its rush sounded the awful warning in their ears. The boats had -been cordelled, and now the order was given to run them in the cove. Two -had reached a point of safety when the sweeping torrent invaded this -shelter and took with it the rest of the line to join the raging flood. - -The few passengers were in the first boat, and were soon put ashore and -bidden to run upon the high ground. Then an effort was made to save the -two remaining boats. Now and then a swirl nearly submerged them, but a -mass of tree trunks and branches caught on some projection at the mouth -of the cove, which turned the current and gave them a promise of safety. -There was a cave, partly natural, and rendered more secure by the gang -of pirates who had once made it their camping ground. But now it began -to fill with water. So they carried some of their stores and blankets to -a sheltered place up above to await the result. Even here they could -hear the roar of the river. - -When Captain Dessous thought it safe to venture, they examined the boats -and found one with a large hole in the bottom where it had struck on the -jagged rock. They had provisions and made a rude shelter for the women, -three ladies and a maid, and a little child. It would not be safe to -venture until the river had subsided, so they had waited. All could not -go in the one boat, and to leave the others at the mercy of prowling -Indians, or, it might be, a return of some pirate squad, was hardly -safe. Still some of the more courageous men had agreed to remain, and -they had decided to start shortly. It was full moon now and the night -would be light enough for safety if they were caught in it, for no one -could calculate the exact distance or the obstacles they would have to -encounter. - -Now all was joyous satisfaction. The stores from the injured boat were -divided among the other two, and the women taken on board the rescue -boat. They found their way out to the river, now flowing along serenely. -But there would be the tide against them. Still they were delighted at -the thought of soon reaching a safe harbor. The moon came out in its -most resplendent beauty. The banks of the river were a series of -bewildering pictures for any one with an artistic eye. The men sang -songs in French and Spanish, and would have danced if there had been -room. - -"They are coming up the river!" some one shouted in the light of the -golden June morning. "There is Captain Javelot and Andr Valbonais. I -can make them out through the glass. And some women." - -One and another hurried down. Christophe Baugenon expected his -sweetheart, and had been getting a nest ready for her. Madame Galette -had come up to end her days with her two sons. Gaspard Denys was there -as well, anxious to know how the peril had been escaped. - -There was a lovely woman with a babe in her arms. The Spanish veil-like -mantilla was thrown gracefully over her head and shoulders. Her soft, -dark eyes glanced up and met those of Denys, who stretched out his hand -past that of Valbonais in a heartfelt greeting. - -"Barbe!" he cried. "Barbe!" forgetting she had any other name. - -"Oh, Monsieur Denys, thank heaven!" - -Madame Renaud came rushing down with a wild cry and flung her arms -around her sister. - -"Let me take the child," Gaspard said, while the two women fell into -each other's embrace. - -A pretty little thing of three or so, with rings of dark hair about her -forehead and curiously tinted eyes, black with golden shades in them. -She laid her hand confidingly on his shoulder. Children always trusted -him. - -"Marie! Marie!" called Madame Gardepier. "Take the little Angelique. -Monsieur Denys, how can I thank you?" - -She was lovelier than ever with her eyes full of tears. Elise had been -crying over her. - -Marie was maid and slave, about as much Spanish as African, slim and -graceful, and with the beauty belonging to the mixed blood. The child -made no demur, but bestowed a dainty smile upon him. - -"Oh--it is nothing." He had not come expecting to meet her, though he had -wondered a little about her. - -"But to be here again! To have a welcome from you, an old friend! Yes, -it is joy indeed." - -Christophe Baugenon had his arms about his sweetheart. They were glad to -have half the world share their joys, in those early days when honesty -was more than style or culture. - -"Come soon," said Madame Renaud. "We are all such old friends. And Barbe -will have so much to tell. And bring ma'm'selle: she can't have -forgotten. Oh, Barbe, she is a young lady now!" laughing cheerily. - -Then they moved on, while his eyes followed them. - -Already men were repairing the levee, or, rather, building it anew under -Colonel Chouteau's direction. Some other overflow in time would sweep -this away, but this was the best of their knowledge then. And the -unfortunate captain had his story to tell. He had saved his papers and -bills of lading, and could tell upon whom the losses would fall. There -were some shipments for Denys, but he was glad no lives had been lost. -Andr was describing their share of the rescue in brief terms. So it was -late when M. Denys returned. - -"We waited and waited for you!" cried Rene. "And the breakfast was so -good--the corn cakes Mre Lunde makes that melt in your mouth." - -And truly even those wilderness women, with no culinary magazines or -housekeeping hints, concocted very savory dishes. Their grater was of -the rudest kind. A strip of tin through which a sharpened bit of iron -was driven to make holes, the rough side put upward as it was fastened -to a piece of board. On this they grated green corn all the summer and -autumn. During the winter they boiled it on the ear until it was soft, -then prepared it the same way. The cakes were mixed with eggs and flour -and baked on a hot flat stone in the heat of the coals. A syrup made of -maple sugar would be poured over them. - -"Yes, I am very sorry--and hungry," laughing. "There was so much to talk -about." - -"And was any one lost? Where did they find the boats?" Rene was all -eagerness. - -"There were only two. The rest were swept away. They took shelter in -Pirate Creek, but the pirates have been cleaned out. It might have been -worse. The losses can be recouped. Ah, you should have seen the joy of -Christophe Baugenon over his sweetheart! Madame Galette, and Madame -Gardepier with her little girl." - -"She is quite old now," said Rene, with the assurance of youth that is -its own hasty judge. - -"Oh, no! Five or six and twenty. And her little girl is about three, a -pretty child. Madame Renaud was wild with delight, as who would not be. -And she begs that we will come soon." - -Rene had busied herself with a pretence of getting the meal, but it was -Mre Lunde who had toasted the corn cake and the dried fish. It seemed -to her as if a tiny shade had fallen over the world, but no, the sun was -shining with extraordinary brilliancy. It made the leaves outside -scatter its golden rays about as if they were sprites dancing. - -"The blessed Virgin has been very good to her," said Mre Lunde, -crossing herself. "Such a fearful time! I hope there never will be -another. And Madame Galette. I knew her years ago. She has two good sons -left." - -An event like this made talk for days, especially as the men were busy -repairing damages, and the captains had to tell their stories over and -over. Then the next relay of boats came in with the news of the other -towns, and that families were resolving to emigrate. Indeed, before cold -weather set in quite a number of families had reached St. Louis, and -many a winter evening was devoted to a recount of dangers and wonderful -escapes, the destruction of many a small fortune. - -There was not a happier heart in all St. Louis, perhaps, than that of -Barbe Gardepier. If her marriage had not been altogether satisfactory, -she would not at first confess it to her sister. New Orleans was very -different from St. Louis. Pleasures were not so simple. There were -cabarets where men spent evenings drinking and playing games, betting -and losing. And there were balls where men never took their wives, but -danced with beautiful creole girls who were outside the pale of their -own people. True, the wives visited each other and gossiped about this -and that, and went to church often, at times finding a choice morsel of -scandal to discuss. She had longed for her own old home, and as the -weeks and months went on she seemed to grow away from her husband rather -than nearer to him. He had not appeared to mind the baby's death much, -while it had almost broken her heart. - -She had been bitterly disappointed in the non-success of her second plan -to visit home, as she still called the old town. - -"It is too severe a journey," her husband had said decisively. "And it -is a dull little place at the best. I would not stir a step if I were -not compelled to." - -For all that he seemed to find plenty to amuse himself with. Coming down -the river, he had made a stay at Kaskaskia, where pretty girls abounded. -When he did return there was a little daughter to claim his love; but he -was not fond of babies. Girls were all right enough budding into -womanhood, with a hundred seductive charms. Until then, the nursery and -the convent. - -Barbe might have found amusement and danced with the gayest, but she -soon learned that her husband was jealous and could say very bitter -things. So she kept to her little girl and poured out all her love on -this sweet object. There were moments when she could not even bear to -think that Jean Gardepier was her father. - -One night he was brought home with a bad stab wound, the result of a -quarrel. It did not seem dangerous at first, but he fumed and fretted -and would go out too soon. He was quite ill again, and then it was found -that the wound had penetrated his lung, and, after a few hemorrhages, he -dropped quietly out of life. There was not much money left, but enough -to take her home and keep her for awhile, and though she tried hard to -moderate her joy at the thought, in her inmost heart she felt it was -partly the sense of freedom. - -And Gaspard Denys had been first to welcome her. The years had touched -him lightly. His face had the same strong kindliness that had made her -feel in her girlhood that he was a man to be trusted anywhere, a man one -could rely upon. She had learned many things in these few years of her -married life. She had had a much wider experience than Madame Renaud -with sons-in-law and daughter-in-law and the many years since she became -a bride. - -Neighbors came out to greet them. It was like a triumphal procession. -Indeed, it seemed as if all the streets were full of gay, cheerful -chatter. For in those days there was very little letter-writing; indeed, -many fine housekeepers and excellent women did not know how to write. - -Late in the afternoon the sisters were alone. Nearly every one had been -discussed, and Barbe knew about most of the marriages and deaths, the -new babies, the few newcomers and the general prosperity, as well as the -losses. - -"I was extremely pleased with that young Valbonais," Barbe said. "He has -improved very much. Is he connected in business now with Monsieur -Denys?" - -"Oh, no; he remains with the Chouteaus. But he is a frequent guest, and -one can almost see how it will end," laughing with a certain -satisfaction. - -"You mean--with the child?" - -"Yes. She is a very pretty girl. She was at two of the balls last -winter, though not a queen. There was a stranger, two of them, staying -with the Governor. One cared little for gayety; the other was much -smitten with the attractive Rene, and there was talk, but it fell -through. It was said that he really did ask for her hand. But I think M. -Denys would much rather have her remain here. She is like a child to -him." - -Barbe nodded. "Still she is old enough to marry." - -"Oh, yes. Then her grandfather left quite a fortune, as I have told you. -She is very young for her years, though--a child in some things." - -Barbe drew a long breath. "It is a little singular that M. Denys has -never married," she said indifferently. - -"Oh, he may marry yet. There is always time for a man." - -Madame Renaud gave a meaning laugh. Barbe felt her color rising, but -vouchsafed no reply. - -That evening after supper M. Denys said: - -"Let us go down to the Renauds', my child, and welcome Madame Gardepier -home." - -"Why, you saw her this morning! I thought everybody was giving her a -welcome. She will be tired of so much," was the rather careless reply. - -"One is never tired of friendly appreciation." - -"Indeed?" almost saucily. "They may tire of other things, however. I was -running races on the old mound this afternoon. I would like to sit and -rest and talk." - -"Running races! And in the winter you were asked in marriage!" He -laughed heartily and pinched her peachy cheek. - -"Mre Lunde said sometimes princesses in France were asked in marriage -when they were only a few years old," she replied with dignity. - -"That is true enough. Offered to this one and that. But I do not hawk my -little queen about." - -"You love me very much?" - -She uttered it with a soft sigh that was quite charming and touched him. - -"Ah, you know that!" with fervor. - -"But I like to hear you say it," pleadingly. - -"I love you very much." He bent over and kissed the crown of her head, -adding, "Then you will not go?" - -"Stay with me," she entreated. "You haven't told me half the story of -the boat coming in this morning." - -There was a light, youthful step on the floor. - -"Ah, Andr!" Denys said, turning. "Come and tell this girl the welcomes -that filled the air this morning, the finding of the castaways and all. -You were there, and she can have it first-hand. Meanwhile, I will run -down to the Renauds' and see if Madame Gardepier is any the worse for -her journey." - -Rene could have cried out with vexation. Denys did not even stop to -light his pipe. - -"Let us go in the garden, ma'm'selle. It is so beautiful in the -starlight, and the air is fragrant with a hundred sweet scents. I wish -you could have had the sail last night. It was the kind of thing to fill -one's soul with rapture." - -"I am tired!" she cried pettishly. "That was why I refused to go with -uncle. And I don't care so much about the rescue. People are crazy, as -if nothing ever happened in St. Louis before. And my head aches. I -believe I will go to bed." - -She sprang up impatiently. - -"I am sorry----" - -"There are plenty of girls who will be glad to have you talk to them," -she flung out, and the next moment had vanished. - -Andr looked after her. He was very much in love with her now. He had -been more than charmed with the young Indian girl. He had even thought -if it was true M. Marchand was dead, he would try to comfort her, to win -her. But when he witnessed her love for her husband, her entire -devotion, and the tone in which she once said: "I think I must have had -the hope in my heart all the time that my husband was alive, and that -gave me strength when it seemed as if I must drop by the wayside. And if -I had not found him I should have died, because there would have been no -further desire to live," he believed her then. He knew now that must -have been the end. To be loved like that! Could Fate bestow anything -better? - -But last winter a different feeling had taken possession of him. First -it was an effort to save Rene from a possible danger. He had seen -considerable of Monsieur Laflamme and had no faith whatever in him. He -was quite sure it was her fortune that had attracted him, for he was -paying an equivocal sort of devotion to several others, or else he was -just trifling with them all, taking what amusement he could in the -simple pleasures of the place. - -And now he knew that he had a desire quite for himself! True he would -have saved her from any possible evil, but he wanted her, the smiles and -the sweetness she lavished on Uncle Denys and Mre Lunde, the radiance -and charm that she flung here and there. He would have liked to go about -and gather them up as if they were tangible things. And yet--she did not -care for him. Why, then, did she claim him in dozens of dainty ways? Why -did she put him between herself and other gallants when their devotion -became too pronounced? - -Andr Valbonais was simple and straightforward, and had a very limited -knowledge of the twists and turns in the feminine mind. Complex -characters are not usual where people live truly rather than take -continual thought about living. - -He went out now and sat on the doorstep, talking to Mre Lunde. Some one -was playing on a fiddle, interspersed with rollicking songs, and the -sound floated up to them. There was a great deal of joy in the world, -but his heart was heavy. - -Rene flung herself on the bed and wept angrily, bitterly. Barbe -Gardepier had come into her life again and was free. She had summoned -Uncle Gaspard this first night to her side. Had he loved her a little -long ago? Would she try to win him now? Oh, what a dreary outlook! And -she had been so happy! - - - - -CHAPTER XVII - -RIVALS - - -Gaspard Denys had wondered more than once about Barbe's married life, -and at Gardepier's second visit to St. Louis he was quite convinced that -he was not the kind of man to make a tender, clinging heart happy. Women -throve and blossomed in an atmosphere of love; grew cold, pale and -listless when this was denied. It was their natural sustenance. Had this -hastened Rene Freneau's death? - -And when he saw Marchand's devotion and Wawataysee's delicious joy in -it, he could not tell why, but he wished such a marriage had been -Barbe's good fortune. - -He never asked himself what might have happened if he had not gone to -Canada for Rene de Longueville. He had started adventuring first in a -desperate frame of mind, and then grown to like it exceedingly. He had -purchased the old house to assist a family in distress who had lost -husband and father. On his way home with his little Rene he had -resolved to set up a household, to keep the child under his -guardianship, for he knew well Freneau would not want her. She was so -clinging, so sweet. She was a part of the adorable girl he had loved. If -he had been certain of her happiness he might have let her fade from his -mind, but a fear had always rankled with a thorn-prick. - -Did she know, would she know that he meant to lavish the love that -should have been hers on the child? What was that country like? Surely -the soul could not linger in the grave, and if it was given to one to -have glimpses of those left behind, she must rejoice. - -With his heart so engrossed he could not think, indeed, was not tempted -to a strong feeling for any other woman. Barbe was pretty and -sweet--young men were attracted to her--and he felt quite old compared -with her. Then there was so much business to occupy him, and presently -Barbe was married without a sigh of regret on his part. - -The little jealous feeling Rene displayed rather amused him. He hardly -understood the child's passionate fondness, but was not her exclusive -love something she inherited from her mother? He liked to think so. - -Now she was half woman and still kept the child's eager fondness. She -had no real lovers, even if she had been asked in marriage. And he did -not want to give her up. When he sat in the fascinating blaze of the log -fire and steeped his brain in the haze of his pipe, visions stole softly -about him. He saw Rene a happy wife, the mother of sweet, enchanting -children who would climb his knees, half strangle him with baby arms and -press soft faces against his, prattle of their love in turn. No, she -must never go away. And who would he like as well as Andr! - -And she liked him, too, in spite of her wilful manner of flouting him. -She was ready enough to put him in the face of any imaginary danger. He -was a fine, generous, wholesome young fellow, with a good business. And -he, Denys, could wait. He was not in so great a hurry to share Rene, -but he felt there was no life, no joy to a woman comparable with -wifehood and motherhood. And he wanted his darling to have the best of -everything. - -She was very quiet the next morning and stole furtive glances at him, -too proud to make any inquiry as to whether he had passed a pleasant -evening. After breakfast Andr came with a face of eager light, and yet -perplexity. - -"What is it now?" asked Denys. - -"Matter enough. I am divided in two. I have just had an offer--command, I -might say. And whether I am to take it--" looking up with uncertainty. - -"Beating about a bush doesn't always thresh off nuts. There is the right -season," and a glint of humor crossed the elder's face. "Is there a -pretty girl in it?" - -Was the world running after pretty girls? Rene frowned. - -"You would not like me to go away, ma'm'selle?" - -A sudden hope had rendered him incautious. - -"It makes no difference to me," she replied coldly. - -"What is it all about?" inquired Denys. "Where were you last night, that -you are so incoherent this morning?" - -"In the counting house with M'sieu Pierre Chouteau. In about ten days he -starts for New Orleans, and must take some one with him. He proposes the -post to me." - -Denys gave a side glance at Rene. Her face was cold, impenetrable. -Clearly she was not in love, much as she liked Andr. - -"Come in the shop!" exclaimed Denys. - -They seated themselves on bales of furs, done up ready to be transferred -to the boats. - -"It is a high compliment, Andr. And it may not be a bad thing for a -young fellow to see a little of the world and learn how to make money in -different ways. It's a much gayer place than this. And you will be in -good hands." - -"But--M. Denys, I do not want to go." - -The young fellow's face was scarlet, and his eyes were full of unspoken -hope mingled with fear. - -"And why not, Andr Valbonais?" - -"Oh, you must know, you must have guessed that I love Ma'm'selle Rene. -Ever since last winter I have known that all my heart was hers, that I -would not be satisfied until I had won her for a wife. And I do not -think--you are averse----" - -He looked so frank and sincere and honorable under the elder's scrutiny, -though his face was flushed and the lines about his mouth were -quivering. - -Denys took his arm. There was something better than a smile on the face, -a tender approval. - -"No," Denys replied in a tone that went to the young man's heart. "I -have had a little dream of the future. There is no one in St. Louis I -would so soon take as a son. For look you, Andr, I do not want to give -her up. The man who weds her must come here, must put up with me as I -grow old and full of whims. I cannot be shut out of her happiness. I -will tell you that I had a brief few months' love with her mother, and a -dream like this. Her father parted us. The child is as dear to me as if -my blood ran in her veins, and her happiness is my whole study. If you -can win her I shall be content. But women have to wait for a time to -love. And it is not her time." - -"But if I should go away--" The young fellow drew a long, sorrowing -breath. - -"It might be best, so that you come back." - -"I must stay all winter. And if some one else wins her?" he questioned -anxiously. - -"That would be a grief to me. I shall try not to have it happen. Oh, you -can trust me; only I shall not force her inclination. But there is some -comfort to take with you in my full consent." - -"You think, then, I had better go?" reluctantly. - -"It is not every day a friend like M. Chouteau is given to a young man. -And," with a vague smile, "you may even advance your suit by going. If -she should miss you, so much the better. You have given her a great deal -of devotion, perhaps too much. There are some gifts that are not -appreciated if they come too easily." - -Andr Valbonais felt as if his dream had been dashed to fragments like a -bit of glass. He had resolved he would not go away; he _would_ marry -Rene. Yet down in his heart he knew she did not love him with the -fervor of a sweetheart. But that might come when she understood how much -in earnest he was, and that her guardian really wished for the marriage. -Yet, much as he wished for it, he would not spoil his darling's life by -any over-persuasion. - -"Yes, it is a fine chance. You will be the envy of the town. And--I trust -you to come back as honorable as you go. A year soon passes." - -"It will be hard to go without speaking." - -"It will do no good." Denys shook his head. "Trust me. I have seen more -of womankind." - -"Then I must be off. I asked to consult you, and I have your answer." - -"Yes, yes! Go, by all means." - -Rene was in her room, moving articles about in an aimless fashion, -wondering how Barbe had looked and what she had said. She need not have -worried. There were a dozen other neighbors, ready to talk of the narrow -escape and compare their own town with the larger one. - -Now and then she had exchanged a word with Denys, but it seemed as if -every one talked at once. He had in his mind the picture she made in the -morning, but she did not look like that now. There were lines of care in -her face, and the prettiness had deepened into womanly beauty. - -Not a question about her did Rene ask. After dinner she took some -sewing and went to Madame Marchand's, as she often did. Franois had -been to the wharf, hurriedly constructed again, to see when the boats -were likely to go down the river, since it was now considered safe. -Andr Valbonais had told him he was going. - -"He came to see uncle this morning. I suppose that was what they talked -about," said Rene. - -The voice had the languor of indifference, and the little face, rather -pale now, betrayed no emotion. - -It was always a busy time when a fleet of boats went down. Now, there -was more talk than usual. Some of the stock had been quite spoiled by -the overflow; indeed, not a little of it had been swept out of the -storehouses and it had been impossible to save it. But men took their -losses philosophically; they would recoup themselves another year. And -they now thought it wisdom to build higher up, and leave the muddy bank -to itself. - -Andr was very busy, and truth to tell, rather downhearted. He had been -buoyant; it was his nature. But as he faced the actual now, and the -careless demeanor of Rene, he felt like one roused from a dream and -swung to the opposite verge. No, she did not care for him. Yet she had -been so sweet at times! He was in and out. Mre Lunde was full of -regrets. She was old and might never see him again. Rene said -carelessly, "We shall all miss you. I don't know what uncle would do if -he did not have M'sieu Marchand." - -She and Madame Marchand had gone to the Renauds', as was proper. -Wawataysee was charmed with the little Angelique, and they found Madame -Gardepier quite different from the women of the town, except some of the -higher ladies in the government circles, though she was very sweet and -gracious. - -Rene's heart swelled with a great jealousy. Barbe was beautiful and -grand, she could not deny it. Her voice had a lingering cadence, like a -rivulet in some forest depth, as if she might coax the heart out of one. -Rene steeled hers in a sort of desperation. Surely she was distanced. -She could not contend against these charms, any more than she could deny -them. All her life was suddenly set in the shade. - -So she could not feel much sorrow for Andr's going away; her own filled -all her heart. He might have thought her quiet a sign of it, but his -eyes seemed to have been curiously opened. - -"You will give me good wishes?" he said the last evening he came. -"And--will you not say that you shall miss me?" - -"Of course, I shall miss you," but the dreariness in the tone was not -for him. "I shall be so much alone." - -"M. Denys will be here--" He was a little puzzled. - -"Oh, yes! But, then----" - -"Rene," impetuously, "you have some sorrow. You are not like yourself. -What has happened?" - -"Yes, I have some sorrow in my heart. I cannot tell any one," and the -red lips quivered. - -"And you were so gay a little while ago. Oh, my darling--" His full heart -overflowed in his face. - -She held up her hand in entreaty. "Don't," she said in a half-irritated -way. "I shall never be any one's darling again. And," in something of -her old imperious tone, "if I cannot have the love I want I will not -have any!" - -He looked at her in amaze. Did she love some one else, then? He was -suddenly stunned. That had never entered his thoughts. - -"Oh," she exclaimed with a burst of feeling, "you have been very good to -me, Andr. You rescued me in that dreadful peril, and I shall always be -grateful. And I wish you prosperity and happiness." - -Then she vanished from the garden and shut herself in her room. When -Uncle Gaspard begged her to come out, as this was Andr's last evening, -she said her head ached and she could not bear the sound of voices. - -They went down to see the boats off, and the air was almost rent with -good wishes. This was always a great occasion. There in the foremost one -was M. Pierre Chouteau and Andr beside him, both waving their hands in -response to the "_Bon voyage!_" from a hundred throats. The Colonel -stood beside his mother, who was a proud and happy woman, and who -chatted in a charming fashion with her friends and had singled out -Barbe, it seemed, who had come with her niece Sophie. - -The line rounded the curve and began to take in the turn, and the -sailors' shouts were mere echoes. To-day the water was tranquil enough, -and the heavens so blue that all the atmosphere had an extraordinary -brilliance. - -Madame Chouteau invited some of the friends to come and dine with her. - -"I do not want to," Rene said, shrinking back. "But you go, Uncle -Gaspard, and take my excuse. I am not well. I shall go to bed and make -Mre Lunde doctor me, and be right by to-morrow." - -What was the matter with the child? She had grown pale and heavy-eyed. -He had been much engrossed with the boats and Andr's perplexity, and -the impression that she desired to evade him, so he had made it easy for -her to do so. But if she were going to be ill! - -She threaded her way homeward and sat for awhile under her favorite -tree, looking at the vision of Barbe smiling and Uncle Gaspard listening -to her attractive manner of talking and smiling back. For all the summer -sunshine she was cold, and her temples throbbed with a dull pain. She -did not want to cry outwardly, but within her heart seemed weeping -bitter tears, and its beating was like the dull thud of pounding on -lead. - -She startled Mre Lunde when she came in so wan and spiritless. The good -woman steeped some herbs, and she did really go to bed. Uncle Gaspard -did not get home until almost supper-time, and some trappers were in the -shop dickering about pelts. - -He came and sat on the side of the bed presently and held her hands, -wondering if it was a cold, and recalling the fact that he had heard -there were some cases of fever about. - -She was very languid for several days. He was down at the levee, -supervising some of the new work; indeed, it seemed as if he was in -great demand. She would curl herself up in the big chair at the corner -of the fireplace, not on account of the cold, for the door stood open, -as well as the heavy shutters, and the sunshine stole in the room, -dancing about on the floor like groups of sprites. Mre Lunde would nod -in her chair. Chloe was out in the garden, working. It was so quiet, the -very silence appealed strangely to her, and her mind wandered off to the -future. - -Some day Barbe would come here from the church leaning on Uncle -Gaspard's arm and looking up in his face with smiles, holding her pretty -child by the hand. He would love it as he had loved her. He would carry -it in his arms and hold it on his knee, listen to its chatter, just as -he had done with her. And Barbe would have dozens of different graces -and pretty ways to lure him continually. Where would she, Rene, be? Not -pushed aside, but left to her own devices, dropped out, half forgotten. - -She wiped away some tears that overflowed her eyes. When Andr came -back, if he wanted her she would marry him. It was comforting to think -some one might want her. And if he never came back, if some pretty girl -in New Orleans attracted him--ah, then, she would be lonely, indeed! -Perhaps this was the way her mother had felt in the old chteau. And her -grandfather had wanted _her_ put in a convent--perhaps it would have been -better. - -If youth can make pleasures of its own, it can also make bitter sorrows, -and in its waywardness longs to drain the cup to the last drop. Perhaps -there may be some strength in the very bitterness, a tonic to work a -cure. - -Gaspard Denys came in and found her there, picked her up, and, seating -himself, pressed her to his broad breast and encircled her with his -arms. What an exquisite shelter it was! - -"What can I do for you?" he asked. "You were never ill but once before, -and that was the cold. But now you do not seem to improve. I wonder if -you would like to have a change? It is dull, now that Andr is away, and -I am so busy. Madame Renaud and Madame Gardepier are coming over -to-morrow. And if you would like to spend a few days with them----" - -"Oh, no! I am content here," in a quick tone. - -"Then some day we could go up the river and take our dinner. Some of the -young people might like to join. Sophie Pion is so gay and -good-humored." - -"I like the quiet," she returned languidly. - -"But it is not good for you, unless you were really ill." - -"I shall be better soon. I walked out in the garden to-day." - -"That is right. I can't think what could have brought this about. Come, -you must cheer up and be like your olden self. It makes my heart ache to -have you so dreary." - -"Oh, does it really ache for me? Then I must try. Yes, I will try," in a -more cheerful tone. - -"That is my own little girl," and he kissed her fondly. Yes, he would -always love her in a way. - -The guests came up the next day. Madame Renaud was always bright and -cheery. Madame Gardepier brought her little girl, who ran about and -prattled and was like a bit of sunshine, sitting a moment in Mre -Lunde's lap, then off again chasing the two half-grown kittens. - -Barbe was very charming and gracious and had a good deal to tell about -New Orleans, and thought M'sieu Valbonais would enjoy it very much, -though no doubt he would long for the old friends and associations. And -was he not coming back in a year? - -Rene admitted without any change of color that he was. There was no -half secret in her face. - -"And now you must see Ma'm'selle Rene's room," exclaimed Madame Renaud. -"It is just full of prettiness and ingenuity." - -Rene led the way, and if admiration could have lightened her heart, -surely all the heaviness would have vanished. They were very cordial, -and quite insisted upon having a whole day's visit from her. Uncle -Gaspard promised that she should surely come. - -As they were walking down the street Barbe said: "She does look poorly. -I suppose she has been fretting after M. Valbonais." - -"I really wonder that Gaspard let him go. There was no reason why they -should not marry." - -"And she has some fortune of her own. Why, yes, she could have gone with -him. I hope he will not forget her. There are so many attractive women -there." - -Wawataysee studied her earnestly a few days afterward, when she had been -sitting in silence. - -"What has changed you so, Rene?" she asked with much solicitude. "There -is a surmise in the air that you are grieving after Andr. What happened -between you? For I know he loved you sincerely." - -"I grieving?" Then Rene's face went scarlet and she could hardly -refrain from tears. "It is not Andr. I seldom think of him. Oh, how -cruel and unjust! And it is not true." - -"But something troubles you," in a tender tone. - -Rene was silent. - -"And you never have been so unhappy before. Why do you not tell your -uncle?" - -"No, I cannot," and Rene shivered. - -"Then, dear, why not go to the good father? I should if I had any -sorrows. But what can I have to pain me, with such a good husband and my -lovely children, who are like angels? And Father Lemoine said last -month, 'Madame, your confession is a thanksgiving instead.' He is so -kindly, that Father Lemoine. But you must find some relief, or you will -waste quite away." - -"I shall get well at once. I will not have people quoting me as a -love-sick girl," a little resentfully. - -Still Wawataysee looked doubtfully at her. She tried to be more cheerful -that evening, and Uncle Gaspard smiled and called her his little girl. -Would he always love her? She dared not ask him now. When she had -sorrowed for him in his long absence it had been a comfort to go up to -the little church and pray. But would it not be monstrous to ask God to -keep Uncle Denys from loving Barbe? She was lovely and kind, and merry -too, for that matter, and if Uncle Denys---- - -Ah, there was the sting! - -There crept into her heart a curious dull ache, a sense of something she -did not like, that she shrank from, just as one shuts one's eyes to some -unpleasant sight. And this time it was not Barbe. Some one nearer, -one that she was answerable for, and she did not like the half -consciousness. She had believed the sorrow all hers. What if it was -wrong to cherish it and make it another's sorrow? - -She went up to the church one afternoon. There was no one about. The -confessional stood open. She thought she would pray, and then she -recalled a sentence, "Clean hands and a pure heart." Was her heart pure, -not desiring what might belong to another? And if she snatched at it -with over-eager hands and a selfish heart? - -She went out quietly and sat on the grass. The soft wind just stirred -the trees and brought wafts of perfume and the distant sound of the -voices of children at play. The sun was casting long shadows and -burnishing the tree-tops out on the fields. A few insects were lazily -droning. - -A figure came out in the rusty black cassock with the cord around the -waist, and the little round cap, where a few straggling locks, much -threaded with white, fell below in a half-curling fashion. He glanced -her way, then came over to her and she rose with a reverent obeisance. - -"It is Ma'm'selle de Longueville. You were little Rene. I remember when -you used to come and pray for your uncle that he might be returned in -safety. Is there nothing left to pray for?" - -The tone was wonderfully sweet, and the eyes gave her such a kindly, -tender glance that her heart melted within her. - -"I went in the church," she began in a low tone. "I was troubled about -something. I could not find the right prayer. There may be a need before -the prayer," and her voice trembled like a quivering note of music. - -"Then let us go in and find it, daughter," and he took her hand in his -and gently led her back. She knelt in silence. The kindly hands were -folded on her head in blessing. - -What was it she wanted to say? "If one so coveted a love that it brought -unhappiness if it was shared with any one else; if one had been first -for years, and found another in the place, and then--" The sorrowful -voice broke. It was flooded with tears and soft sobs. - -"Is it a lover that has cast longing eyes on another?" - -"Oh, no, no!" And then the poor little story came out in an incoherent -fashion. It was selfish, it was covetous, it was unjust. She saw that, -now that she put it in words, and it sent a pang of shame and anguish -through her whole being. Was this the return for all the affection he -had given? - -"Child," said the low, sweet voice, "I think he will not love thee less -because another comes into his heart. It is a good, generous heart. I -know it well. And thou must cast out the selfish fear and give love for -love. God shares His with all His creatures, and asks first a devoted -heart, then the wide love for one's neighbor. No grudging heart ever yet -had peace. And the more happiness one scattereth the more returneth to -thee. The more Christlike thy heart becomes, the greater will be thy -desire to do for others, and in this will come the recompense. Trust thy -God and then thy trust will grow in all His creatures. Narrow thy life, -and when the one light fails all will be darkness. Thou hast gone but a -little way forward and there are many lessons to learn before thou wilt -reach the end, but the divinest of all is unselfish love." - -Could she be brave enough to put aside her own intense, selfish love? If -another love made Uncle Gaspard happier---- - -They went out on the step of the old church porch, and he said: "You -will come again, daughter?" And she replied: "I will come every day and -pray for a new heart." - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII - -A FINE ADJUSTMENT - - -Gaspard Denys was out by the gate waiting, quite at a loss to know what -could keep his little girl, and wondering what had made her so quiet and -indifferent of late. Had she really cared more for Andr than she knew? -She must miss him, of course, for although he had touches of sentiment -now and then, he was bright and very much given to the amusing rather -than the serious side of every-day occurrences. But he was earnest -enough where that quality was needed. And he had been Rene's devoted -slave. - -Her hands were clasped, her shoulders drooped a little and her step was -slow. Gaspard went to meet her, touched by the piteousness of her -aspect. - -"My little darling----" - -She had not been exactly weeping, but her eyes had filled and -overflowed. He would not have seen it in the gathering darkness, but he -kissed amid the tears on her cheek. - -"Rene, where have you been?" in a gentle tone. "You were not at the -Marchands'." - -"I was up at the church with Father Lemoine." - -Had she some confidence to give the priest that she withheld from him? -And he thought he knew all her simple heart. - -"Rene, what is the matter? You are not happy. You are not really ill, -either. Something troubles you." - -The girl was silent, but he heard her fluttering breath. He took her -hand in his. It was cold and spiritless. It did not curl about his -fingers in her usual caressing fashion. - -"Has some one grown nearer and dearer than I? You need not be afraid----" - -"Oh, no, it is not that! No one is so dear. And if I lost you--" Oh, she -did not mean to say it, and stopped in her slow pacing. - -"You are not likely to lose me. Who has been filling your head with -nonsense?" - -His tone was a little sharp. - -"No one is to blame. It was all my fault. I have been selfish and -grudging and"--it burst out vehemently--"jealous!" - -He smiled, and was glad the purple gray of the waning light would not -betray it to her wounding. It was the old story, Barbe Guion again. - -"My dear little girl--" he began with infinite tenderness, clasping his -strong arm around her. - -"I want to tell you," she interrupted hurriedly, "it is right, and just -now I have the courage. I don't mean ever to be so selfish again. It is -wicked and ungrateful, and if anything can make you happier, I shall--try -to rejoice in it." - -And he knew she swallowed over a great lump in her throat. He was deeply -touched as well. - -"It is very wicked and selfish, but I couldn't bear to think of your -loving any one else, and when Madame Gardepier came back so pretty and -attractive, and--and you liked her so, it made me very miserable. I did -not want her to come here to be mistress, to have your love, to be first -everywhere, but I know now how odious and hateful it was, and I am -sorry, when you have always been so good to me. And, Uncle Gaspard, if -you want to marry Barbe and bring her here and be happy with her, I will -be content and not envy her for your sake----" - -She was sobbing softly then. He had his arm around her and led her -through the open gate to the little arbor of wild grape vines and -honeysuckle that was always in bloom, a nest of fragrance now that the -dew had begun to fall. He drew her very close to him and let her sob out -her sorrow and penitence. How simply heroic she was to give up a part of -the best thing in her life, for he knew, as he had believed before, that -Valbonais's love had not found the path to her heart. - -"I was so miserable," she went on tremulously, "and I thought I would go -to the church and pray as I used, when I asked God to send you back. -Then I met the good father. And now I am going to begin. I shall not be -unhappy any more, at least I shall strive against it. And I want -you--yes," catching her breath, "I want you to have whatever pleases you -best." - -For a moment or two so deep was his emotion he could not steady his own -voice. And as he held her there, felt the beating of her heart, the -agitation of her slim figure, the sobs she was trying to control, a -passion of tenderness swept over him and almost a desire to claim her as -his and let her rest henceforth in the proud security of entire love. -Yes, she would marry him if he said the word. But much as she loved him -it would never be that highest of all wifely love. She was still a -child, and he was more than double her age. He stood in the place of a -father, and there would be a question if the legal relationship would -not be a bar in the sight of the Church. - -And--Barbe? He was much interested in her and had a secret sympathy with -her. Her eyes had confessed to him that her marriage had not been -satisfactory. If he stood quite alone, perhaps that might be the ending -presently, but it was no plan of his now, no desire, even. - -Ah, Rene, you did not know what an unconscious rival you were! Barbe -understood the situation much better, but she had a woman's wisdom. - -It had all passed through his mind like a flash. - -"My little dear," he said, toying with the soft hair, "set your heart at -rest. I had not thought of marrying Barbe. And I could never give you -up." - -"But--if you were going to be happier----" - -"I am quite an old fellow now. I like my own way. A smoke in the chimney -corner is my delight, and a little girl who sits there weaving pictures -and adventures in the blaze. I am happy enough." - -Her heart gave a great bound. How could she help delighting in the -confession! But that was selfish again. She would hold this exquisite -pleasure on sufferance. - -"Yes, I am happy enough at present. But I should like my little girl to -marry some one who could be a son to me in my old age, who would not -want to take her away, and we would keep step together when we turned -the summit of the hill and were going down the decline. Only I shall -have to sit on the top a good while waiting for you, there are so many -years between." - -There was almost a merry sound in his voice. - -"And now is the unhappiness all gone?" pressing her fondly to his side. - -"There is the shame and regret for naughtiness. Have I troubled you a -good deal?" in a repentant tone. - -"It would have been worse if you were really ill." - -"I almost made myself so. I did not think that it might cause you -anxiety. You see, I was only considering myself and heaping up sorrow -where there was no real sorrow." - -"But you will not do it any more?" - -"No, not any more," she answered, with exquisite tenderness. - -"And now shall we go in? What do you suppose Mre Lunde will say? And -see, it is quite dark. There are two stars." - -All above them was the vault of deepest blue, resting on the tree-tops -or the vague, far distance where all was indistinguishable. The river -lapped along, some night birds gave a shrill cry, and far off a -whippoorwill was repeating his mournful lay. - -"Come." He lifted her up in his strong arms and swung her around. The -door stood wide open, framing in a vivid picture of the hearth fire, the -big empty chair, Mre Lunde bending over some cookery. Every year her -shoulders grew more round and her head was almost hidden between them. - -Rene seemed to herself like one in a dream. She would not exult in this -new possessorship. She would keep meek and lowly, remembering her -indulgence in sinful feelings, her doubt and distrust. - -"What has kept you so?" cried Mre Lunde. "The fish has dried to a -crisp. And one never knows. It may be Indians or wild animals----" - -"Nothing worse than sitting in the arbor, talking." - -"And the child not at all well! When she comes down with a fever--and she -looks like a ghost now." - -That was true enough. The cool air had added to her paleness and her -eyes had a softness in their brown depths, a mysterious expression, as -if she had not shaken off the atmosphere of some far world. - -"Go to the fire and warm up, even if it is a summer night. You should -have known better than to keep her sitting in the chill dew," to M. -Denys. - -Then the good mre made her drink a cup of hot broth. - -But she had not much appetite. Now and then she stole a shy glance at -Uncle Gaspard, and if she met his eyes a faint color suffused her face. -The happy, childlike trust was coming back. And though they sat together -awhile afterward, the faint glow of the dying fire lighting the room, -neither fell in a humor for talking. She kept half wondering if it was -true that he did not care to marry Barbe, half disbelieving it; and yet -it did not give her the pang she had suffered from the cruel jealousy -that had rent her soul. The tranquillity was very sweet, very -comforting. - -She was singing the next morning as she went about her duties a gay -little French chanson Andr had taught her, and her voice was like a -bird's. - -"You are happy this morning, ma'm'selle," said Mre Lunde, with fondness -in her old eyes. "Has there been news from the boats?" - -"From the boats?" What had that to do with it? Then she colored -scarlet--that meant Andr. - -"No," she replied gravely. "Uncle Gaspard would have mentioned it if -there was." - -Still the embarrassing tint ran over her face. All this time had one and -another been fancying that she was grieving for Andr Valbonais? Ah, -they would see! She would be as gay as before. She would go out with the -girls berrying, and gathering strange flowers that queer old Doctor -Montcrevier was glad to press and put in a great book that he had. They -were very little troubled by Indians now, yet they always went in -considerable parties, and Friga was her guard. - -Monsieur Denys took quite a party up the river in the boat he had been -building, and they spent the night at St. Charles. Just beyond was -another bend in the river, and the air was so clear they could discern -the windings a long distance up. Everywhere there were still some signs -of the great flood. But it had not been able to destroy the frowning -bluffs, though it had left caves in different places, swept some islands -out of existence or added them to others. The world was a beautiful -place when the elements were at rest, and it was a blessed thing to -live. - -Rene was growing a little graver, a little more womanly and thoughtful, -but Denys wondered at the added sweetness. She was quite a devout -churchgoer now, and occasionally went up for a chat with the good -father, that was not confession exactly, but helped her insight in some -of the greater truths, made her more ready to share happiness with -others. - -It had been quite a trial at first to go cordially to the Renauds', -though she did admire Barbe's little girl. Madame Gardepier was a person -of some note now, and received invitations to the Government House, and -was on delightful terms with Madame Chouteau and several of the more -important residents. Sometimes Uncle Gaspard and Rene walked down of an -evening, and the young girl always trembled a little, Barbe was so very -charming. - -Denys understood that he could win her if he cared. Was he really -growing so old that he had not the necessary ardor? Had that one -youthful love and sorrow sufficed him? He was touched by Rene's sweet -demeanor now, though he could not see the quaking heart behind it. - -Monsieur Pierre Chouteau came home to his family late in the fall, and a -new Lieutenant-Governor accompanied him. There was strange and stirring -news from France, from Spain, even from the colonies at the eastward -which, having shaken off their old rulers, were still harrassed by -Indian wars and the unwillingness of England to give up the places -specified in the treaties. - -They did not mind these disputes in the old town. Life ran on smoothly. -They were like one big family; had their joys and few sorrows and took -little heed for to-morrow. There was the winter pleasure and new -marriages; there were young men who cast longing eyes at Rene de -Longueville, who would have no real lovers. And now she was seventeen. - -They were very happy together, Rene and her uncle. - -"She will marry some time," thought the woman who longed for the place -by his fireside when it should be vacant. Rene's demeanor puzzled her. -She was no longer a third person. She often left them quite alone, and -when occasion offered invited Barbe and her little girl to tea. Gaspard -Denys was very friendly. He had the gift of being friendly with women. - -The boats began to come up. There was some word about Andr. Pierre -Chouteau came over and told Denys. - -"I hope you will not be too much disappointed," he said, "but there is -some important business on hand and he really cannot be spared. We made -it an object for him to remain. Indeed, we should like him to take one -of the head positions there. He is a fine, trusty fellow. He asked me to -come and explain to you, lest you should think he had grown indifferent -about old friends. But you need not fear that." - -"We had counted on seeing him, but duty is duty, and one ought not to -run away from it for pleasure," replied Denys, approvingly. - -Rene was not going to give any one an opportunity to consider her a -lovelorn maiden this time. She was gay and bright, joining the pleasure -parties and dancing, ready for canoeing or rowing about on the old -mill-pond in the races. She never summoned the young men to her side and -bade them fetch and carry, as she used to Andr; she sent her admirers -to this girl and that one, but somehow they always found their way back -and gathered as bees about the sweetest flower. They would spend whole -evenings with Denys for the sake of watching her as she sat so demurely -beside the fire, now and then raising her soft brown eyes that the flame -seemed to burnish with gold, or smiling vaguely at some conceit of her -own instead of what the visitor said. - -When they were alone on rare occasions she would bring Uncle Gaspard his -flute and often sing dainty little songs in the sweetest voice -imaginable. Then he would listen and dream of her mother, and it seemed -as if she came and sat beside them. He could see her shadowy form, he -believed he could touch her with his hand. There was no sin in loving -her now, since she was free from the Count de Longueville. - -Then came winter again. Should they go to the king's ball? - -"I'm too old," said Uncle Gaspard. "I found a white hair in my beard -this morning." - -"Oh, think of the fathers and grandfathers! And they dance, too. Old, -indeed!" - -She shook her slim finger at him. - -"I've grown lazy. M. Marchand is such an excellent partner that I have -very little to do." - -"Oh, and you were out skating a few days ago and distanced many of the -younger men! I shall not go unless you do," resolutely. - -"And you have never been a queen in your own right," he remarked with a -gleam of amusement. "You ought to try your luck." - -"Before _I_ get old and have to wear a coif," shaking her head in mock -despair. "Oh, let us both go!" - -She had to coax a good deal and insist stoutly that she would not stir a -step without him. And, of course, he had to yield. - -She listened to the songs and the solicitations, and sent Mre Lunde out -with a generous contribution. - -This time she did not care so much about her gown. It was pretty enough. -She had a beautiful necklace that Mattawissa had given her, made of blue -and white shells that came from the southerly Atlantic coast and were -held in high esteem among the Indians and considered of great value in -the way of trade, as they were used in wampums. They were ground in a -peculiar fashion, with a small hole drilled in them and strung on a -chain. In dancing, as they touched each other the jingle had a peculiar -musical sound. - -Madame Gardepier and one of her nieces cut the cake when the midnight -bell sounded. - -"You _must_ have a piece, Rene," said Madame Elise Borrie, who was -plump and smiling and the mother of three children. "But," in a -mischievous whisper, "they will fight to be chosen king. We shall learn -who is your favorite." - -"I've never had any luck," returned Rene in a tone of mock -disappointment. - -"And _I_'ve never cut the cake before! Oh, you must take a piece from -me! There will be luck in it." - -Rene took the piece laughingly, spread out her handkerchief, and broke -it in two or three fragments. Out fell the ring. - -"Oh! oh! oh!" and there was a crowd about her. She slipped it on her -finger and was handed her nose-gay. - -Whom would she choose? There were eager eyes and indrawn breaths, smiles -that asked in wordless language, young men crowding nearer. - -She went over to Denys. "You always were my king," she said in a low, -sweet tone that touched him immeasurably. "I am glad to give you the -royal signet, a rose." - -Gaspard Denys bowed like a young courtier. - -"You know I must have done it besides my own desire," she whispered. -"There would have been quarrels and heart burnings." - -"Yes," nodding that he understood. - -"Ma'm'selle Rene, that is hardly fair," declared an aggrieved one. -"There are so many young men----" - -"And other queens, and a room full of pretty girls. I will give you one -dance." - -His face lighted up with joy. - -"It will end by a marriage, mark my words," said the mother of three -daughters. - -"No, it cannot," returned Madame Gardepier, with secret exultation. "He -was appointed her uncle and guardian by the Church. It would be -unlawful." - -"True enough. But if she would settle upon some one in earnest the rest -would stand a chance. I don't know what there is about her. And she's -past eighteen. It won't do for her to waste many more years." - -Rene and her uncle danced twice. Then she said, with the persuasive -touch in her voice that he never could resist: - -"Now you must dance with Madame Gardepier and some of the young girls, -while I comfort the disconsolate. And we will go home early." - -But there was such an outcry she could not get away so easily. They were -all as eager as if there had never been balls before and would never be -one again. - -Rene would not attend the next one. Gaspard grumbled at having to go by -himself and meet the storm of reproaches. - -"See, I will tie up my head--you can say you left me that way," and she -passed a folded handkerchief about it, that made her look more -coquettish than ever. "Now--I might rub a bit of garlic over my eyes and -they would look red enough." - -Gaspard laughed in spite of a little ill humor. - -Rene settled herself in his big chair and wrapped her feet in the fur -robe. How the wind blew without, though the moonless sky was brilliant -with stars. The trees writhed and groaned, and she fancied she could -hear the lashing of the river. Occasionally a gust blew down the -chimney, driving long tongues of flame out into the room and scattering -ashes about. But the house of split logs, plastered on the outside and -within, was solid enough. She only laughed when the wind banged up -against it and had to depart with sullen grumbling. - -She loved to sit this way and live over the past. What had changed her -so? Did wilfulness belong naturally to childhood? Or was it the lessons -she had learned in the little old church from the good father? Life was -finer and broader, and duties, real duties, were oftentimes a -delight--not always, she admitted, with a little twinge of conscience--and -there were sacrifices of inclination to be made. - -What a curious, varied life hers had been! And now it flowed on -tranquilly. Would it always be this way? Uncle Gaspard wanted her to -marry, but who was there to suit them both? The pretty mystery, not -quite a smile, but that always made her face enchanting, passed over it -now. This one and that one had been mentioned, and she had scouted them -with a dainty insistence that always amused him, though he would argue -about their best points as if he was in sober earnest. - -"Sometimes I think you really want to get rid of me, Uncle Gaspard," she -would retort, with an air of being provoked. "And what if I should never -like anybody? I wonder if, after all, when I am old, say thirty, -perhaps, I would have to go to Quebec and enter a convent, like Marie -Guion?" - -"Thirty! Well, you are a good way from that! And I am a good way past -it, and you won't hear to my being old." - -Then she would laugh and put loving arms about his neck, and he would -think he did not mind the waiting. If it was God's will, the thing he -wanted would come about; but if it was not, one could not go against the -great All-Father, whose right it was to give or to deny. - -But he remarked that she had grown to like talking over the times when -Andr Valbonais had come to her rescue and that of Wawataysee. - -"And I would get hungry and tired and cold, and feel afraid of wild -animals in the forest. I was so little, you know, and not wise and -patient like Wawataysee. And I used to cry for you. Andr was very good -not to get cross and scold, now was he not?" - -"Oh, my little one, I never forget that I owe him a great deal. And I am -glad he is prospering so well." - -"But suppose he should want to stay in New Orleans? It is so much gayer -and finer than this little St. Louis. Our Place d'Arms is nothing -compared to that handsome plaza, Barbe says. And the women dress so -much, and there is the beautiful church, and the school for girls, and a -theatre, and music everywhere on the balconies. Perhaps he will never -come back." - -Did she sigh a little over her own prediction? - -"We can go there some day----" - -"If you think I am going to run after him," with a charming show of -indignation that made her cheeks bloom like the rose, "you are far out -of the way. That would be on every one's tongue. Rene de Longueville -has gone to New Orleans after M'sieu Valbonais, because she cannot get a -lover here. Why, he might stay there a hundred years before I would go!" - -"There seems to be no lack of lovers here. Whether they come for me, or -the good fire, or----" - -"They like you, and they like to smoke and ask your advice. And don't -you notice that sometimes I go to bed, slip away softly, and they never -miss me?" - -At that Uncle Gaspard would nod, with an expression of incredulity in -his eyes. - -And on nights like these, when she happened to be alone, or in that long -space of winter twilight when she curled herself up in the fur rugs like -a kitten, she used to wander off in reveries about that almost -dream-like episode, with its terrors, that made her shudder even now, -because she realized their dangers so much more keenly. Oh, what if -Andr had not found them? How could they have taken all that long -journey with no care, no kindly treatment? And that tall, fierce Black -Feather! He might have minded about Wawataysee, who was of some value to -him, but she, a little child! And if Andr had said, "Oh, we cannot be -bothered with her, we shall have to go so much slower," and they had -stolen away! Some tears always came in her eyes at this point. And there -was that last night, when he had carried her and she had slept in his -arms. Yes, she ought to be very grateful. And sometimes she had been -wilful and treated him very badly. Of course, he had half-forgotten -about her. Was the girl beautiful that he cared the most for? Did she -dance with the grace of a fairy, and was her voice sweet and seductive, -just as Barbe Gardepier's was at times, a sound that both fascinated and -vexed her, the liquid tone that made a man bend his head lest he should -lose a note of its sweetness? And her parents would be very gracious to -him; she knew how charming mothers could be. - -After they had been married a long, long while she would go with Uncle -Gaspard to visit them. She and Uncle Gaspard would grow old together, -and she would have a stoop in the shoulders like Mre Lunde. - - - - -CHAPTER XIX - -THIS WAY AND THAT - - -All the world was abloom and fragrant with later spring. The children -were ranging out on the great mound, learning lessons of the sky, with -all its variations; of the woods, with their many kinds of trees; of the -flowers that were budding and blossoming; of the river winding about, -guessing at other rivers and other countries and great lakes and frozen -regions up at the far north where the white bear lived and the beautiful -white and silver fox, whose fur was rare and held in high esteem. They -peopled it with strange, fierce Indians, and sometimes the boys divided -in two parties and fought. The girls made circles for wigwams, collected -dried grass and sticks and built fires in the centre; and if there were -but few books and no real schools, they were skilful in many things. -They could shoot smaller game, they could manage a canoe, they could -fish, and they acquired much useful knowledge by the time they were men -and women. - -Even to-day youth is attracted by the wild, free life, and the spirit of -adventure still runs in the blood. - -The line of boats were coming up north again. There had been much -floating ice in the river this spring, which had delayed travelling. -Flags were flying, so all was well. Down on the levee bells were ringing -and horns blew out a welcome. Everything had a natural look again, only -the new places were built higher up, and even some of these had been -damaged by the crushing of ice cakes. - -The men collected who had this sort of interest at heart. Many others -and the slaves were out on the King's Highway and beyond, tilling and -planting fields. Women sauntered down the Rue Royale and chatted. The -old market was full of eagerness and activity, and the air had a -fragrance of cooked viands to tempt the palates of the sailors. Women in -coifs and little shoulder shawls that gave them a picturesque look, men -in close caps or a kerchief tied over their heads, their blue blouses -with red belts and wide collars exposing brawny or sinewy throats, -tanned already by sun and wind. - -The leader, the most pretentious boat generally, carried some -passengers; the others had loads of bales and bundles covered with -coarse canvas or deers' hide. They looked not unlike a funeral -procession, the sails a dull gray, but the shouts and songs dispelled so -sombre a thought. Some of the men remembered when the sad news of Pierre -Laclede had reached them, when all had been silence. - -The first boat unloaded the few passengers, valuable papers, and the -slaves began with the cargo. One tall, fine-aspected young fellow sprang -ashore and was warmly welcomed by the Chouteaus and several of the more -prominent men, and then Gaspard Denys seized his hand, but neither of -them spoke except with the eyes. - -And now all was a brisk, seeming confusion. Rude barrows and a kind of -hand-carts were loaded and run to the storehouses. Slaves, Indians and -the lower class of French, many of them hunters as well, worked with a -hearty will. Then there were groups of Indian traders who had been -watching for days for the arrival of the boats, and were eager with -their packs for trade. Others had already disposed of their pelts and -taken notes with the signature of the Chouteaus, quite as good as gold -or silver, and making trade easier, giving them more time to devote to -their own selection. Squaws eager for blankets, calicoes, coarse, -crash-like stuffs, beads and gewgaws, chaffering in their guttural -tones, and shrill French voices raised to the point of anger, it would -seem, from the eagerness, but good-humored for all that. - -Several men went into the counting house where the old sign still -obtained, "Maxent Laclede & Company," just as it still remained in New -Orleans. It would look queer enough to-day, the small one-story log -house with its rough inside wall built up to the ceiling with shelves, -its great iron-bound boxes that served for seats as well as receptacles. - -Andre Valbonais had a big buckskin bag full of papers and invoices, and -he had much to say to his employers. Pierre Chouteau went in and out; he -could hear the particulars afterward, and he was needed every few -moments to tell where this and that should go. - -There was a great commotion, to be sure. Millions of dollars in -transactions could pass now without a tithe of excitement. But, then, -when a town has been shut in all winter it is natural the outburst -should stir like wine in the blood. The shops farther up in the town -were deserted. - -As for Rene de Longueville, she kept very tranquil. - -"I suppose M'sieu Andr came up on this voyage?" Mre Lunde said as she -was preparing dinner. - -Rene had been working among her flowers; then she had kept in her room, -busying herself with sewing. - -"Perhaps so. There will be fleets in all the time now. And Indians and -_voyageurs_ and piles of pelts and evil smells, and such a confusion in -the streets it will hardly be safe to go out unless one is willing to be -jostled and pushed hither and yon." - -"And M'sieu Denys does not come home to dinner. It is all ready." - -"Let us have ours, then," with cordial assent. - -"Perhaps he may bring home M'sieu Valbonais." - -"Well, there may be something left. I am hungry, but I cannot eat all -this bountiful meal," with a gay laugh. - -"It will be spoiled, ma'm'selle," complainingly. - -"The more need that we eat ours while it is just right," she answered, -with smiling emphasis. "Will it make them any happier to have ours less -inviting?" - -So she took her seat at the table with a merry audacity, and praised the -cookery so heartily that Mre Lunde was good humored in a moment or two. -Still there was no step on the path. - -"They will not come," in a tone of disappointment. - -"But, you know, there is enough to get at the market in such times as -these," returned Rene, with a lightsome air. "Trust them for not -starving." - -"Pah! It may do for sailors and _voyageurs_ and Indians, but never for -gentlemen, mademoiselle." - -When Mre Lunde was a little affronted she gave Rene the full length of -the syllables. - -Rene went out and looked at the flowers again, and up and down the -street. "If there was any news," she said to herself, "Uncle Denys would -come and tell me." - -"Mre Lunde, I am going over to Madame Marchand's with my work," she -exclaimed. "I do hope they have brought in no end of beads and spangles. -What do you suppose the Indian women did before the French came here?" - -That was beyond the simple mre's comprehension. - -M. Marchand was returning from his dinner. - -"I just ran down to hear the luck, ma'm'selle; they had a splendid -voyage and no mishap. And Andr Valbonais--you would not know him!" - -She nodded indifferently, but would ask no questions. Wawataysee sat out -under a pretty rose arbor that was heavy with pink buds. There were four -babies now, sturdy Gaspard and Denys tumbling about on the grass, Rene, -with her fair hair and her father's deep blue eyes, much more French -than Indian, and baby Franois. Wawataysee was more lovely than ever, -Rene thought, but she did not understand that it was the largeness and -sweetness of life so intimately connected with others. - -"Did M'sieu Denys come home?" Wawataysee asked. - -"No. I suppose it is all a hurly-burly down there. It is good to have -something to stir up the town now and then," Rene returned brightly. - -"Yes. The trappers were growing very impatient. And I think there will -be a good trade, an excellent thing for you and me," with a grateful -expression in her beautiful eyes. "Rene, I wonder if M. Denys ever -realizes all that he has done for Franois, and good Mre Lunde nursed -him through all his long illness. Men's regard for each other has such a -strong, true quality in it. And, then, M'sieu Andr--oh, Rene, what -would _we_ have done without him? I hope he came up on this voyage." - -"Yes," returned Rene. "M. Marchand just told me so." - -"I am all impatience to see him. Almost two years! Franois declares -sometimes that he is jealous, but that is for amusement. I wonder if he -is much changed? He was very boyish, you know." - -"Was he?" commented Rene absently. - -"You would not remark it so much. You were a child yourself. And how you -used to order him about." - -"It was a habit of mine. Uncle Gaspard spoiled me. And now I have only -to raise my finger and he does my bidding; but he knows there is no one -I love so well." - -Would she always love him the best of any one? - -"And I suppose we shall be glad to have a new store of beads and those -lovely spangles that make the work glitter so, and the soft silk -threads. Merci! What would we do but for the work?" laughing. - -No books or papers to read, no letters to write, no large questions to -discuss, not much of fashion, since garments were handed down through -generations, no journeys about. It was no wonder they were so largely -given to the gayety and pleasures of every-day life. There were loves -and disputes and jealousies, yet they seldom reached the desperate -point, and all, both men and women, looked forward to marriage, which -was made happy by unfailing good humor and a clear sense of duty. It -was, indeed, Arcadian simplicity. - -They chatted and worked, then they took the children and went up on the -mound, where they had a view of the busy hive below, and the -conglomerate of nations, it seemed to their limited sense. Rene was in -a most merry mood. She sang snatches of songs, she played with the -children, she told the older ones Indian legends that were like fairy -stories. Wawataysee studied her in a sort of amazement. - -Rene had half a mind to go home to supper with her. That would look -inhospitable. Gay as she had been, there was a curious unrest in her -heart, a longing to have the first meeting over. Would Andr expect her -to be _very_ glad? Well, she would put on her finest dignity. She was -quite grown up now. - -The table was set for two. - -"M'sieu Denys has sent word--they are to go to the Chouteaus' for supper. -Oh, I forgot! M. Valbonais has come," glancing up to see if it pleasured -her young lady. - -"Yes, yes!" Rene nodded impatiently, and took her seat. "Of course, -there is business. He is clerk of the great house, you know, and brings -news not only of New Orleans, but France, and perhaps of the new -colonies. I think I have heard there is some trade with them. You see, -Mre Lunde, New Orleans is a wonderful place." - -But after all her exercise and apparent good spirits, she scarcely ate -any supper. There was a hurt feeling lying heavily at her heart that she -could not banish, with all her pride. If he had cared, would he not have -found a few moments to announce his safe return? Perhaps he had left a -wife behind. Then, of course, he had no right to think of any other -woman. - -She went out and paced up and down in the garden, trying to think what -she would do to-morrow. She would go down to the mill-pond; there were -always parties out boating. Then Sophie Borrie would be glad to see her. -And the day after, the day after that--how long and lonely the procession -looked! - -There was a bright twinkling star emerging from a drift of white into a -patch of almost blue-black sky. The night was serene, balmy, and there -were but few sounds. It was not yet time for insects to begin their -choruses. Steps sounded of people chatting gayly, but they were not the -voices she knew. Something brushed against her forehead--she reached up -and pulled a rose, sweet with the first greeting of its brief life. And -then---- - -She hurried swiftly to the house. Mre Lunde was scolding Chloe, but -through the rasping sound she heard the steps, the cordial greeting. It -was quite dark within, and she was lighting the pine torch when the two -entered and her uncle said: - -"We have reached home at last. What a day! Rene, here is a guest," and -Uncle Gaspard gave his hearty, cheerful laugh. - -"We were in the dark." She rose in some confusion, the short curls -drooping almost into her eyes, her face quite flushed, and turned, -drawing a long, startled breath. - -"The saints only know how glad I am to get home again!" and the strong -voice was full of rapture. - -"And you don't know yourself?" she interrupted quickly. - -"Ah, you must not take me up like that!" laughing. "I doubt if even the -saints could understand my delight. No one but myself truly knows. Is -that better?" - -The torch began to flame, and its red light threw him out boldly. He -seemed to have grown taller--no, it was not that, for Uncle Gaspard still -towered above him, but he was stouter, and the way he carried himself -had in it a new character and power. And the indescribable something in -his face that no girl could read at a glance, the shaping and tone -experience gives when one has been learning to rule his fellow-men and -to depend upon himself. - -She was silent and a warm color played about her face. He took both -hands, drew her nearer to him, and suddenly she was afraid of the -intense personality. Her rosy lips quivered, her eyes drooped, her -breath came rapidly. - -"Haven't you a word of welcome for Andr?" asked Uncle Gaspard, -surprised. - -"I was confused by the light, and--you are quite sure it is Monsieur -Valbonais?" turning to her uncle. "For he seems to have changed -mysteriously." - -"And you have not changed at all. Nothing has changed. M. Denys, light -your pipe and sit in the corner, and I will take this one. Ma'm'selle -Rene, sit here in the middle." He pushed the chair and placed her -gently in it. "Now we can almost believe that I have not been away at -all, only there is the great gladness of coming back." - -"Has the time passed so quickly, monsieur?" - -There was the faintest suggestion of mischief in her tone. - -"Mademoiselle, you have not outgrown all your naughtiness, I perceive. -You find a second meaning in my simple words. No, there have been days -that seemed like months--last summer, when I hoped to return, when I was -homesick and heartsick. But what are you to do when the kindest employer -in the world begs you to stay and there is no one to take your place, -unless matters go at a great loss?" - -"But New Orleans is gay and bright. And Madame Gardepier says the women -are lovely, and there is music and light-heartedness everywhere." - -"When you are in a close and dark office or out on the muddy, crowded, -vile-smelling levees with men of every nation shouting and hustling and -swearing all about you, and you have almost to fight to get your bidding -done, you have no thought for pretty women. But a man cannot always -choose. And my greatest grief is that I must go back or disappoint my -very good friends." - -"Oh!" with a toss of the head and a curve of the swelling lip that he -longed to kiss. - -"Ma'm'selle, let us not talk about that now. There are pleasanter -subjects--all our old friends--for through the day it has been business, -business, until my head seemed in a whirl with it. M. Denys will tell -you. And we had to go to supper to finish, as if there would not be -another day. But it is so lovely here. And the pretty Madame Marchand is -well, and the Renaud girls, and the Aubrys with their husbands, and -Madame Gardepier with her little one! Ah, I shall have a fine time -presently, when I get a little leisure!" - -What a new sound his voice had! A strength and resolution that swayed -one curiously, a definite manner of stating opinions that somehow -impressed one not only with a sense of security, but a sense of power -that she was minded to rebel against. - -They talked late. Why could she not slyly disappear, as she often did, -and leave him with Uncle Denys, since he would remain all night? - -But she shook off the mysterious chain with an effort and rose and -wished them good-night in a timid sort of way, though she stood up very -straight. - -He caught her hand. "I am tempted to wish there could be no nights for a -long while," he said. "They are not good nights." - -"Think how sleepy we should get. And mine are always good," laughing -lightly. But she did not go across and kiss Uncle Denys. - -There were several busy days, and friends that proffered Andr a warm -welcome. The Valbonais cousins were wedded long ago, but they claimed -him quite as cordially, and the old people were proud enough of him. The -Marchands offered him their home, and were delighted to have him drop -in. Then he was being asked to dine or sup with the Chouteaus, and he -was at the Government House, for his intelligent understanding of other -subjects besides commercial matters made him a desirable guest. - -Rene experienced a curious sensation, as if she was being neglected. -She had lost her old power over him, which was mortifying. He teased her -a little, then he let her trifle with him and say saucy things. But it -was like a bird with a chain; he brought her back, he let her see it was -only playing. Then she grew indignant and flounced away, met him coldly -the next time, or was proud and silent. - -Uncle Gaspard never raised a finger in the matter. - -"I do not like him. I almost hate him!" she cried vehemently one day. -"Of course, I know he saved me in that dreadful peril, but he has been -thanked a hundred times over. And we do not owe him anything." - -"Oh, yes," Uncle Gaspard said tenderly, as he pressed her to his heart. -"I owe him a great deal. For if I had lost you----" - -"And you could never give me to any one else?" - -"Well, whoever wanted one would have to take both." - -Presently the trafficking was about over. The Indians had gone to their -respective lodges, the _voyageurs_ sailed up the river, and now only -occasional boats and canoes came in. Andr was not so busy. He joined -the parties on their rambles when he was certain Rene would be among -them. He did not hesitate to make himself agreeable to other -demoiselles. She could not help drawing contrasts. He had certain ways -of the better class, though social lines were not strongly marked and -few people knew what culture meant. He talked Spanish fluently; he was -quite an adept in English, though he had acquired a little of that -before. But the difference was largely one of manner, the small, -delicate attentions that went to her heart and understanding. Uncle -Gaspard always had some of them, M. Marchand also, and a few of the -others. The rather rough good nature had much honesty, but it was not so -flattering to a girl of Rene's cast. - -There were times when she was quite as jealous as she had ever been of -Uncle Gaspard. Yet it was strange to be so shaken by his coming when she -told herself she did not care for him, to have the touch of his hand -thrill through every nerve, to have the steady glance of his eye conquer -the spirit of rebellion until there was nothing left except the thin -outside crust, that would surely fall at the next assault if she did not -run away. This was cowardly, too, and she despised herself for it, but -she was not the first who had escaped in this fashion. - -He was amused. In the earlier days he had experienced a great terror at -the thought of losing her. It might be the elder man's wisdom had helped -open his eyes. He liked her piquant independence, and he learned, too, -there was a mood of most fascinating dependence as well. But she never -wholly gave up. - -"Is it true you are going back to New Orleans?" Rene asked one day in -her charming, but imperious fashion. - -"Yes, ma'm'selle. And I must start in another month." - -He looked so brave and dignified, his clear eyes shining, his shoulders -thrown back, his head securely poised, as if he could lead an army. -There was not his match in all St. Louis. Oh, yes, Uncle Gaspard and M. -Marchand, and Madame Chouteau's splendid sons, who had risked various -dangers! And M. Marchand had carried off the pretty Wawataysee when he -knew if they should be captured he would be put to cruel tortures and -death. Well, had not Andr escaped with them both when a like fate would -have awaited him in being taken? - -"You care nothing for us now, Andr," in her most plaintive tone, a -hundred times more dangerous than her pride tinctured with sweetness. -And the sorrow that flooded her beautiful brown eyes almost swept him -from his standing-ground. - -"Yes, ma'm'selle, I care a great deal. I love M. Denys as an elder -brother. And you--" hesitatingly. - -She blushed scarlet and her eyes drooped. - -"No, you want the gayety and the excitement and the crowds of pretty -women and the theatres. We are dull and simple here, yet I think we are -good and happy and honest and true. And, then, you are all absorbed in -money-making. Uncle Gaspard said you would be a rich man before you -died. But they do dreadful things in New Orleans, and drink and carouse. -You may be murdered some day, and then what will all the money be -worth?" - -She looked so aggrieved, so bewitching in her regret that, after all, -was half assumed, though she would not confess it to herself even, that -he had much ado to keep tranquil. - -"Ma'm'selle, I go because I see it is quite necessary. A man who hopes -for advancement must study the interest of those who have his welfare at -heart and can favor him in many ways. Then I hold the key to much of the -business at that end of the line, and I do not see who there is to put -in my place. It is true the life here is simple and delightful. There -one has a good deal of sharp dealing to fight against, since he must -meet men of all governments and all sorts of schemes. If M'sieu Chouteau -could go--but he cannot. Do not for a moment think it is the gayety and -the pretty women." - -"Then you _will_ go. There is no use in arguing." - -She turned away. How distractingly pretty she was this morning in the -old garden, herself a part of its bloom! Over the gate she had given him -a rose, and renewed friendship after a dispute. - -"I must go. I have passed my word. Rene--" in a beseeching tone. - -She half turned, like a bird who wonders whether he will fly or not, but -her lowered eyes had a laugh in them. - -"Rene, you know I love you----" - -"No, I do not." He could see the swelling of her bosom that sent a throb -up to her throat. "You do nothing for me now. You are off with the men. -You are--oh, so very charming to the girls!" with a cutting little -emphasis. "And you are always talking to Uncle Gaspard about business----" - -"And last night you ran away to bed without even a good-night!" with -upbraiding in his voice. - -"Oh, _did_ you miss me? I never supposed you would. I was tired sitting -there, thinking my own thoughts." - -"Now we have plenty of time; tell them to me," and his persuasive tone -penetrated her inmost being. What foolish things could she repeat? Her -face was scarlet. - -"You know now I love you. I have told you so in words. I have told it in -many other ways. I confessed it to M. Denys before I went away and he -bade me wait patiently. For two years I have carried you in my heart, -yes, longer than that. You had your fling about other women; no one has -ever moved me. Every night I said, 'One more day has gone, and at the -last I shall go back to the little girl in old St. Louis that I carried -in my arms all one night when she was worn out with fatigue and hunger -and cold. Rene----" - -"I cannot leave Uncle Denys. I have said hundreds of times I never -would," and her voice was sweet with pathos that penetrated his inmost -soul. - -"But you need not. We have planned that. I will be a son to him in all -his declining years. No, you need never be separated." - -"Then you will stay!" exultingly. If she could once conquer she would be -generous and consent afterward. Did not love yield everything? - -"I _must_ go. We three will go." His breath came in a gasp, his eyes -deepened with fervor, he caught both her hands; he could have clasped -her in his arms in a transport of rapture. Only--she stood up so straight -and resolute. - -"So you have planned all this!" she cried in a passion that had a pang -for her as well as him. "And I am not anywhere. It makes no difference -what I want. I am like any bale of merchandise tossed from one to the -other. That is all a woman is worth! But you will find I am not to be -bandied about." - -She had lashed her emotion into tears, and pulled away her hands with an -impatient gesture. - -"Heaven above knows what you are worth to both of us. No one will ever -love you more truly, more devotedly." - -Rene de Longueville fled swiftly away. - - - - -CHAPTER XX - -WHEN A WOMAN WILL - - -"What ails the child?" inquired Mre Lunde. "She has not been like -herself the last fortnight. And now she is in there, crying as if her -heart would break. It is all that Andr Valbonais, I know. Why does he -not marry her and be done with it?" - -"But if she will not?" Gaspard Denys shrugged his shoulders and drew his -brow into a frown. - -"In my time a man knew how to make a woman say yes. And a woman knew -when she was going to get a good husband, which is of the Lord. Gaspard -Denys, you have spoiled her!" - -Yes, he had spoiled her. A man did not know how to bring up a girl. But -she was so sweet in all her wilfulness, so loving in spite of little -tempers and authoritative ways, so dear to him, that if she had wanted -to walk over his body with her dainty feet he could hardly have refused -her. He went into her room and took her in his arms. - -"You are too good to me!" she cried presently. "And I am a miserable, -hateful, quarrelsome, selfish little thing, wanting my own way and then -not happy or satisfied with it. Oh, how will you endure me years and -years, getting queerer as I grow old! For now we will have to live here -together always. I have sent Andr away. Oh, will you care?" - -There was no use arguing. She had cried herself into an unreasonable -passion. She had had her way. How much of it was regret? None of it was -satisfaction. - -"Well, dear, then we must get along," and his tone had a tranquillizing -cheerfulness in it. "There is no one I would like as well for a son----" - -"But you do not want to go to that wretched New Orleans?" in a tone of -incredulity. - -She raised her head from his shoulder. Her swollen eyes and tear-stained -face melted his heart. - -"You know we were going some time. It is well worth seeing. But we do -not need to take Andr." - -"Yet you like him so," with her old waywardness. - -"Yes. And I am sorry you do not." - -She hid her face again. She _did_ like him. She felt it in the hot color -that stained her cheek. - -"He will be gone a year--that is not long," she said in a rather hopeful -tone. - -"Or, he might decide to stay longer. If he has nothing to call him -back----" - -They would be lonely without him. She would be lonely. After all, there -were few young men to compare with him. And some time--if he was _quite_ -sure she did not care for him, he might marry. She never could marry any -one else, but, then--men were different. Oh, here was one who had never -put a woman in his first love's place! And Andr was all alone in the -world. Yes, he would need a wife---- - -"Oh, Uncle Gaspard, I am not worth all this love!" she cried -remorsefully. - -"You will always be worth it to two men," he said in so gentle a tone -that it pierced her heart. "I am much older than you, dear, and some day -I shall be called upon to take the journey from which one never returns. -Then you will be left quite alone." - -What made her think of the little girl in the old chteau to whom the -days were so long and lonesome? Yet, it would be very sad to be left -alone. And--after all---- - -There are so many "after alls" in life. And so many things seem -insurmountable when looked at in a moment of passion. Uncle Denys could -never give her wholly away, had never planned to do that. Fathers and -mothers were happy to have their children married, and here she would -not do this for the best friend she had, nor for the man who loved her -sincerely--that she loved--a little. - -"You ought to shut me up in the loft and keep me on--on pemican, which -you know I hate, and declare you would never let me out until--until----" - -"A woman's love must always be a free gift, Rene, darling. And if you -do not love Andr it would be sinning against him to marry him." - -She knew down deep in her heart that she did love him, that she had -waited these two years because there was no one like him to her. Of -course, she had not really meant that he should throw up his fine -prospects, but be willing to for her sake. And she knew now it was all -very foolish and wicked, and that she deserved to be left alone for -years and years and have them all full of sorrowful regret. - -"I am going to turn over a new leaf, indeed I am," and she slipped out -of Uncle Gaspard's arms. "See what a fright I have made of myself with -red eyes and swollen face, and my hair frousled. Dinner must be nearly -ready. Oh, what a long morning! And I have made you unhappy, when I love -you so much," in accents of tenderest regret. - -He kissed her and went away. - -They were very silent at dinner. Mre Lunde grumbled because they ate so -little. Then Uncle Gaspard went out. The boats were loading up with -lead, as well as other materials, and he was interested in that, and -needed as well. - -No one came during the evening. She heard the violins and singing up the -street, the fiddles and dancing down below. The fire was all out; no one -wanted it after the cooking was done. There were some black charred ends -and piles of ashes. It had a melancholy appearance. And then she fancied -herself as old as Mre Lunde, sitting by the chimney corner, only Mre -Lunde had married the man of her choice--it seemed now to Rene that -every one must have done so--and though her two sons were dead, she had -had them once; and everybody must die some time. But to die without -having been very happy, that made her shudder. And, then, to know that -one had cast it away rather than give up a whim of will. - -So the next day passed and the next. Sunday she and Uncle Gaspard went -to church. There would only be one Sunday more for Andr--ten days. For -her--how many? - -Coming down the path they glanced at each other. What wonderful -languages live in the depths of the eyes! Andr came to her side, and -then she colored and the hand he took trembled, but she did not withdraw -it. They walked on homeward. She never knew whether any one spoke or -not. Uncle Gaspard was lingering behind, giving thanks that he was -likely to get his heart's desire. - -They paused at the garden gate. He opened it for her to pass. There was -midsummer richness and bloom in it, the homely every-day herbs giving -out a sweetness in their plain flowering that was reviving. He followed -her, but she made a little pause at the vine-clad arbor. - -"I am wilful and delight in my own way," she began, and the words -trembled on the fragrant air. "I am like a briar that pricks you when -you would gather the rose----" - -"But the rose is sweet for all that. And--I will take the rose." - -Then he kissed her throbbing red lips, her fluttering eyelids, just as -he had dreamed of doing many a time. And the bliss was sweeter than any -dream. - -There was not much time to waste. Mre Lunde protested at first at being -left alone, but there would be Chloe, and the Marchands to look after -her, and neighbors were kindly. - -Not much fuss was made in those days over wedding trousseaus. Often one -dress went through families, was even borrowed. But Rene had no need of -that. - -So they went to church on Sunday and heard the banns called, and every -one nodded to his next neighbor with the confident air of having known -it all along. The next day Gaspard Denys gave his darling away, and the -priest joined their hands and blessed them. Madame Chouteau gave them -the wedding feast, which was a mid-day dinner in the grand old house, -much the finest residence in St. Louis. It had not the boisterousness of -most weddings, for only the better part of the community were invited. -Madame Chouteau could do that. - -They drank the bride's health and gave her all good wishes. The men -considered Andr very lucky and he thought himself so, but Rene's -fortune scarcely counted, since he would make one for himself. -Everything seemed sweet and solemn to Rene, and she was awed in a -sacred sort of way as this new life unfolded before her. - -They walked in quite a procession afterward. Gaspard Denys had Madame -Gardepier. They talked a little about the bridegroom, then she said: - -"Monsieur Denys, you have done a faithful duty toward the child. You -will miss her much. One can never be quite the same again. Is it true -you are going to New Orleans also?" - -"Yes, madame. I have not been there for years." - -She had hoped it was not so. If he were lonely, he might turn to others -for consolation. And if the child went out of his life---- - -"But will her husband agree to share her love? Husbands are jealous -sometimes," she commented rather gayly. - -"He is like a son to me, and he knows it. You see, I am old enough to be -his father also." - -"Ah, M'sieu Denys, you should have had children of your very own, and a -woman to love in your home. You have such a noble and tender heart you -could have made some one so happy." - -Her heart beat as she said it. Why could he not be roused to the hope -even now? - -"I think you know that I loved the child's mother, and that we were -unfairly separated. If she had lived--but she died. And when I heard the -little one was sent across the sea by her father, who had small regard -for her, it was as if her mother, leaning over the wall of heaven, -called to me, and I did what I knew would set her heart at rest." - -"But she had heaven and all the saints. And in that land of the blest -one cannot long for human loves. It is to those left on earth to whom -they are precious," she returned, with a little longing in her tone. She -had been waiting for Rene's marriage to take her out of his life. Why -should the child have so much? - -"I think they know, those blessed ones. Ah, madame, if you had been -dying, instead of your husband, and leaving the little one, would you -not have pleaded with the very angels that some one might be raised up -to care for her? And if that had been one to whom she would be doubly -dear! So the child in one sense has been like my own." - -And always her rival, Barbe Gardepier felt. Her last hope seemed to drop -as one lets fall a withered flower that has been sweet and is still -freighted with some dear remembrances. - -They paused at her sister's house. - -"You will come in and say good-by to-morrow?" - -"Yes," and he bowed. - -Why should things go so wrong in the world? Rene Freneau defrauded of a -lifelong happiness, of life itself, and she who had seen such a blissful -possibility twice in her short life shut out from what would have been -her brightest happiness. - -He went his way thoughtfully. He had been so long used to a man's -liberty that he did not care to enchain himself with matrimony. And -surely he would give Rene no rival to her children. - -It was a gorgeous day and the fleet of boats glided out with music and -many a "_Bon voyage!_" The little girl had vanished, but Rene -remembered the first night she came, when in the bend of the river they -passed the old ruined heap, and the old French post-house going to -decay. Was it in some other life? She still had Uncle Denys, and she was -glad. What a wonderful thing it was to love a woman's memory all these -years! - -It was a pleasant journey, with only a few storms, one severe enough to -make them run into an inlet to get out of the fierce sweep of the river. -There was Cahokia, whose ruins were still visible. Kaskaskia, despoiled -of much of its valuable front, the town high now above the river. -Strange and curious sights to one who had been no farther than St. -Charles. - -How would St. Louis look when they went back to it? Rene wondered. For -this to her was a marvellous city, more brilliant than any dream ever -made it. It seemed as if the whole world must have been gathered in it -when one heard the confusion of tongues. - -They did not return the next summer, for still the business could not -spare Andr. But Monsieur Chouteau came down, and there were journeys -about to places of such bloom and beauty and mystery that one almost had -to hold one's breath. - -Strange things, too, were happening in the world beyond the great river -that seemed all to them. The colonies were growing more stable, being -welded together by chains of interest and pride and patriotism into a -grand country, but the Mississippi River would always be its boundary. -It could not pass that, men thought. - -Over seas there were tumults and wars, and France in the throes of a -most fearful revolution. They heard a great deal about it here. How -hundreds of the nobility were thrown in prison, the King and Queen -executed and the mob quarrelling with its leaders. - -Rene thought of the two little brothers in Paris that she had seen on -the day of her journey. And the Count. He was among the nobility, and he -was her father. She shuddered over the horrible doings. And here was her -other father, bright and happy and always considering what would be for -her pleasure. - -Sometimes they read an unspoken wish in each other's eyes. - -"It is not quite St. Louis," she would say, with a half smile meant to -be gay, but was pensive instead. - -"No. But we will return presently," the eyes full of cheerful light and -the tone hopeful. - -"And never leave it again?" - -"I am glad you cannot forget it." - -"Oh, there is no place like the home and the friends of childhood--the -larger childhood, when everything is impressed on one's heart. The old -house and the shop and the wide chimneys and Mre Lunde, and the -Marchands with their babies. I know what it is to be an exile." - -Still she and Andr were very happy, taking the leisure of life like two -children, growing into each other's souls, laughing over some of the old -times. And she would say: - -"How could you love me so well when I was horrid and provoking and -tormented you so?" - -"But you had moments of rare sweetness, ma'm'selle; and sometimes the -bee works a long while before he can extract the honey." - -"And you have never once been sorry?" - -"The sorrow would have come if I had not gained you--a lifelong sorrow." - -"And I like your strength, your determination, your resolution, Andr. -Oh, I like you altogether. I would not have one thought or line of you -changed." - -"You yielded so sweetly, ma'm'selle. It is the rose without the thorns. -And such tenderness! Ah, I do not wonder Father Gaspard gave up all -other women for love of you!" kissing the crown of her head, a trick he -had learned from Denys. - -"Not altogether for me," smiling with the distant look in her eyes, as -if she saw a heavenly vision. "For my mother as well. I wish I could -remember her better, but I was so small. And do you know, Andr, I used -to act like a fiend sometimes, I was so afraid he would love Barbe. And -now and then a great wave of sorrow sweeps over me, thinking of all she -has missed." - -"Madame Gardepier is a lovely woman. Still she does not look like those -who have had their heart's longing satisfied. There is something still -needed." - -"And I could not even yet give up Papa Gaspard. I am still selfish. Are -you jealous, Andr?" raising beauful, beseeching eyes to him. - -"He gave you to me long before you gave yourself--the treasure of his -life. I lost my father so young that I cannot tell what such a love -would have been like, but I know it could not be any tenderer. One sees -it in his eyes and the comfort he takes, the immeasurable content. But -he is longing for home. Dear, we will never leave St. Louis again." - -They often made love to each other, she with a freedom that wifehood had -given her which was enchanting. Gaspard Denys took deep satisfaction in -his two children. There was one more dream, but that was for some -after-day fruition. - -There was a much greater spirit of energy in this queer, half-submerged -town, with its muddy streets that sometimes were positive streams. The -ambition of the outside world was stirring them, the interest that -varied commerce brings. There were new boats being builded for the old -firm, and in one of these Rene went up the river again to her old home. - -There had been no great freshet since the one that had wrought such -destruction, but the swift current of spring had torn away some of the -old obstructions. Noble bluffs had settled to sunken ridges, banks had -slipped into the river and formed other high places full of greenery and -wild bloom. Caves of rocks swept out and left high in some other place. -It was wild and curious with a peculiar beauty. Its partly ruined towns -were recovering. There were little hamlets set so near the river's edge -one wondered people had the courage to plant them there. And there was -all the Illinois side, the new country showing already the energy of the -new race combined of many peoples. - -Rene might have left St. Louis yesterday, so little had it changed in -the two years. The levee was in a better condition, some new docks had -been built. And, as usual, there was the throng to see the boats come -in, pouring down from the Rue de la Tour and the Rue de la Place into -the Rue Royale. Yet it was like an everyday sight at New Orleans. Only -the welcomes gave it a rapture she had never known before. Madame -Marchand had her arms about her. Other old friends of girlhood, wives -and mothers now, voices so confused, yet so glad, that it was music to -listen to them. - -It was old St. Louis, but the little girl had gone forever. Madame -Valbonais, prettier than ever and with a style that was foreign to the -small town. Monsieur, grown a little stouter, fine and strong, yet -smiling with a face of gladness. Gaspard Denys, keeping close watch over -the mulatto nurse in gay coif and bright gown, who had in her arms the -little son of madame. - -A triumphal procession escorted her home. How curiously dry the streets -were, and almost prim after the southern irregularity; the riotous -tangle of vines, the balconies full of ladies with fans, chatting and -waving to the passers-by, throwing coquettish smiles. The old French air -that had grown settled in fifty years, the queer houses, and oh, yes, -here was the garden, and Mre Lunde watching at the gate, more bent than -ever, crying tears of joy, and in her broken voice repeating, "Oh, my -little one! Oh, my little one!" - -Yet it was strange, too, after all that luxuriance of growth and bloom -and fragrance, queer, crooked, busy streets, gay wine shops with open -doors and tables of men within playing cards or fiddling or singing -songs. Birds of every color and richest plumage filling the air with -melody, iridescent lizards creeping about winking with their bright -black eyes, alligators sunning themselves in the ooze, snakes gliding -about unmolested, throngs of almost naked children shining in their -blackness, ready to sing and dance, turn a dozen somersaults or walk -upside down for a copper--the vivid panorama still floated before her -eyes and gave her queer, mixed impressions. - -Most of the people seemed to have stood still. Two or three very old -ones had died and several babies, but others had come to replace them. -Not a new house had been built; the stockade was getting dilapidated. -The Government House had been painted afresh, but the old court-house -was dingy enough. The priest's house had been repaired, the little -garden was lovely with roses that were always blooming, and the Chouteau -grounds were like a beautiful park, so well kept and thrifty. - -"Oh," Andr said, "I wonder if you will be sick with longing for all the -gayety and loveliness we have left behind?" - -"Why, then, we can go there again," she answered merrily, with bright, -contented eyes and a winsome smile. "It is so restful here. And Papa -Gaspard is so happy." - -He was hale and hearty and had not turned the half-century yet. Then he -was full of plans. They would move the shop down on the Rue Royale and -build a new room on to the old house. He had brought home some ideas of -improvement and comfort, of larger living. It was not likely St. Louis -would always stand still. - -Madame Marchand was delighted to get her friend back again. There was a -new little girl, but Rene kept her beauty and winsomeness. Wawataysee -was still lithe and slim--it belonged to her tribe--and M. Marchand was as -devoted as ever. Oh, what days of talk it took to make up all the past! - -And Madame Gardepier had married and gone over to the Illinois side to -live on a big plantation. Pierre Menard had a mill for sawing boards and -a brewery for beer, no end of slaves and servants, full fifty years of -age, and two grown sons married. He coveted the little Angelique -Gardepier and sued hard for the mother, who would have a luxurious life. - -"But thou wilt be an American truly," sighed Madame Renaud. - -There was still a great prejudice against the Illinois people. Their -religion, or, rather, lack of religion, was a great stumbling-block. -Then their roaming lives, their apparent disregard of home ties, that -were so strong with the French. - -But monsieur adored her in a very complimentary fashion, and she was -fain to satisfy her heart with it. Sometimes when the red-gold splendors -were fading from the sky, leaving the bluffs and pearl-gray spaces on -the opposite side like long avenues where the light shone through, Barbe -Menard would glance over and wonder what particular merit there was in -Rene de Longueville that the good God should have given so much to her. - - - - -CHAPTER XXI - -FROM ACROSS THE SEA - - -In the second year after Rene's return two signal events happened. A -new little boy was born. She had coveted a girl for Papa Gaspard to love -as he had loved her, but one had to be content with what God sent, and -the boy was bright and strong. - -"No," Papa Gaspard said when they were talking it over one day, "there -will be plenty of time for girls. I am not sorry. But I shall ask a gift -of you and Andr, now that little Gaspard's place is filled. Give him to -me. Let him take my name. It would be a grief to me to have it die out. -Let there be a new Gaspard Denys growing up into a brave boy, a good, -upright man, we hope. You have your fortune and Andr will make another. -There will be enough to keep a dozen children from starving," with a -bright, amused laugh. "I will make a new will and give the boy what I -have left. The lead interest is increasing and will be a fortune by -itself. So if you and Andr consent. It is not as if I wanted to take -him away; it is simply that he shall be Gaspard Denys. In the old time -they put a St. to it, but that was in France. We are going to be a new -people." - -"Oh, Uncle Gaspard!" and she hid her face on his breast, while her arms -went around his neck. "The best out of my life is hardly good enough for -you. I give you my boy with my whole heart." - -Andr Valbonais said the same thing. So the Governor and the priest -settled all the legal points, and this, with the certificate of his -birth and baptism and the will of his godfather, Gaspard Denys, were -locked up in a strong box for any time that they might be needed. - -A bright, sturdy little fellow was Gaspard, extravagantly fond of his -grandfather and his constant companion. He had his mother's soft brown -eyes and her curly hair. - -One afternoon when the sun had lain warm and golden all about, Rene -Valbonais sat sewing on the wide porch that had been pushed out large -enough for a room. Overhead and at the sides it was a cluster of vines -and blossoming things that shook out fragrance with every waft of wind. -The baby was tumbling about and chattering in both French and Spanish, -for he picked up words easily. Sheba, the nurse, and Chloe were just -outside in the garden. Mre Lunde was napping in her easy-chair. It was -a pretty picture of comfort. - -Rene merely glanced up as a young man entered the gate and looked about -him with a touch of uncertainty. Some message from her husband, -doubtless. It was so tranquil they might go out in the canoe. He came up -slowly and then paused, glanced hesitatingly at her, taking off his cap -and bowing. His attire was well worn, but different from the common -habiliments. His figure and air was that of the cities--she had seen such -young men in New Orleans. - -"Is it--Madame Valbonais?" he asked. - -The voice was cultured and with a peculiar richness. The hand that held -the cap was slim and white as a girl's. His complexion was clear, with -the faintest suggestion of olive, but rather pale, though the warmth had -given a tint of color to the cheeks. - -"I am Madame Valbonais," gently inclining her head with a charming -graciousness. - -"And a De Longueville by birth?" - -The accent was such a pure musical French that this time she smiled as -she nodded. - -"You do not know--at least you may not remember, but a long while ago, it -seems, you came to Paris and were being sent to the New World, America. -You were at the Htel de Longueville, and there were two little boys----" - -"Oh!" she exclaimed, her eyes dilating as a sudden suspicion--knowledge, -indeed--seemed to electrify her. "Oh, you are--" and her voice failed. - -"I am one of the little boys, the eldest, Robert de Longueville. And my -father was your father also. Mine is a sad story, madame, though it -began fair enough. I have come to the New World, where I have not a -friend. All I knew was that you had a grandfather in St. Louis and were -sent thither. You must pardon me, madame----" - -His voice broke a little and his eyes were downcast. - -The good and tender God had sent some one to her in her hour of need. -She, too, had come a stranger to this new land. But she was not old -enough to realize all the desolation. - -Rene rose with gracious courtesy and put out her hand, moved by her own -remembrances as well as his loneliness. He took it and glanced up. She -saw his eyes were brimming with tears. His face and manner appealed to -the tenderest side of her nature, and her affection went out at once. - -"There are no words to thank you for this kindliness, madame. I am such -a stranger to you, although the same blood runs in our veins. And I -speak the truth. Ah, you cannot know----" - -"Come and be seated. You look weary. Chloe," she called, "bring a glass -of wine and some cake." - -Then she pushed a chair up to the small table and put her work in the -pretty Indian basket. His eyes followed the graceful form and took in -the serene, lovely face. Something stirred within him that he had never -known before. He had a French admiration and regard for his mother, but -he could have knelt and kissed the hands of his sister. - -Rene noticed now that his shoes were worn to the ground. He must have -walked far. - -"You came from New Orleans?" she ventured. - -"Yes. The vessel brought me there. Then a boat was coming up to Fort -Chartres. From there I have walked mostly. I am a poor _emigr_, madame. -I will not invade your home under false colors. I spent my last sou to -be rowed across the river. But in these troublous times you must have -heard many sad stories." - -"We are largely out of the way. Yes, there have been sad enough times in -France. And your brother----" - -"He decided to stay in the monastery, though heaven only knows how long -that will stand. All is terror and wildness, and no one's life is safe. -My father was--executed----" - -"Oh, how terrible!" The tears overflowed her eyes. - -The cake and wine came, and, after many thanks, he sipped the wine, but -the cakes he ate like a hungry man. When she would have sent for more a -gesture of his hand retained her. - -"I thank you heartily," he said, with a grave inclination of the head. -"I am such a stranger that I ought to prove my identity. I have -papers----" - -"You may show them to my husband. I believe you. Why, I am your half -sister, but with a whole heart, rest assured. Robert de Longueville. -Yes, I remember you both. You were very shy, and I think I was very much -afraid," smiling as she recalled the old impressions that seemed like a -dream. - -"We used to talk of you. We never had any sister of our own. We were -sent to school, and once a year came back to Paris. Papa was at court. I -was a page for awhile, then I went to a military school. Honor -preferred books and a religious life. He was very sweet and gentle, -while I liked life and stir and adventures. I do not think mamma quite -approved Honor, but she was proud that I was to be a soldier. And then -the dreadful times began with the mob which first deprived the King of -authority, and then cast him into prison with hundreds of others. Oh, it -was indeed a reign of terror!" - -"And your father?" in a low tone. - -"They were both cast into prison," and his voice fell a little. "My -mother died there. It would have been better if my father had died with -her. The Commune hated every vestige of royalty, abolished titles, -confiscated estates. And then poor papa was one of its victims. Our -school was broken up and we were driven into Paris. I don't know what -our fate would have been, impressed in the army of the rabble; but I -would not have fought for the men who had murdered my father. I would -have died first." - -Rene wiped the tears from her eyes. Until now it seemed as if she had -never cared for her father. Surely he had expiated all mistakes and sins -by his death. - -"Then I ran away. I found my way to the monastery and Honor and told -them the sad tale. They were very kind and would have kept me, but there -was no knowing how long they would be allowed their refuge. I resolved -to escape to England, as every week or two refugees were flying thither. -I found my opportunity. And there I heard many things about these new -United Colonies. The English are not over-cordial to them, but the -thought of a people who had fought seven years for liberty and conquered -in the face of such odds fired my heart. I resolved to come to America. -We had never forgotten you, madame, and Honor wrote that if I found you -I was to give you his love. He is a sweet, gentle fellow and will make -an excellent priest, if there is any France left," he added mournfully, -drawing a long, pained breath. - -She was glad they had remembered her and talked of her. She raised her -sweet, sympathetic eyes. - -"Then I came to New Orleans, as I learned from there I could reach St. -Louis. It is queer, but all of you on this side of the river are under -Spanish domination, and it is well for you, perhaps, even if you are -French." - -"I know so little about it," she replied gravely, "only that we are -proud of being French. But the poor King and Queen, and--papa!" - -"Honor and I were thankful mamma died in prison, though we do not know -what she suffered. And that is the whole of the sad story, madame. I am -young and can work for my bread, surely, and it will not be so lonely -since I have found you." - -Her tender heart went out to him. "Monsieur Robert," she said, "I hope -we shall be good friends. I am glad you came to me----" - -"But I do not mean to be a burden on you," he subjoined quickly. "I -still think I should like to be a soldier, yet I have a fair education -and I can make my living at something." - -In the light of the luxury of Paris all through his childhood, so -differently aspected from this, he gathered that his sister was far from -rich; but even if she had been, he had not meant to ask help from her. -There was a good deal of pride in the De Longueville blood. He had not -come as a suppliant for anything but love. She liked him none the worse -for it. Then glancing up, she saw Uncle Gaspard and her child in the -street. - -"Excuse my absence a few moments and go on with your rest, for you look -weary enough. Chloe, bring some more wine and cake." - -Then she glided down the path and met them at the gateway. Her face was -flushed, her eyes deep and full of emotion. - -"Come here in the little arbor," she cried. "A strange thing has -happened to me. I feel as if I had been reading it in a book, but it is -all true. I hardly know where to begin. And, Uncle Gaspard, you must be -kind and merciful, and forgive my father for his neglect. He is dead. He -was one of the victims of that awful revolution because he was faithful -to his King." - -"Rene, child, do not give way to such excitement. The grave covers all. -We do not carry our grudges beyond it. And if he had loved you, you -would never have come to me and I should have lost much, much!" And, -picking up little Gaspard, he kissed him fondly and lifted him to his -shoulder. - -"Yes, I knew you would forgive, you are so generous. And"--she caught his -free hand--"my brother, who has fled from those horrible scenes, who has -lost both parents, has emigrated and is here--found me after some -searching. Life has gone hardly with him." - -"Count de Longueville's son!" The lines of Gaspard Denys's face -hardened, his eyes grew stern. - -"Think of him as my brother only," she pleaded. "We are to be kindly -disposed to our enemies even. And, as you say, if he had been a fond -father to me you would never have had me or little Gaspard. I think -Robert will soon go away again. He has been partly bred for a soldier. -And we ought not visit on him any sin of his father. That is left for -God." - -"True." It was gravely said, but not cordially. "Let us see what the -young man is like. Rene, he never shall be any trouble to you." - -"Oh, you will feel so sorry for him presently." - -They walked to the porch--gallery, as every one called it. The young -fellow had finished his food and wine again. He had eaten nothing since -morning. He looked a little rested, but his eyes had a questioning -glance. - -He was not quite what Gaspard had looked for in a De Longueville. Barely -medium size, though he was not yet twenty, refined and with a quiet -dignity, he rather disarmed the critical eyes, and Gaspard experienced a -touch of sympathy for him. Rene made him tell his pathetic story over -again, which he did modestly enough. And when he would have gone, though -whither he knew not, Denys bade him stay. There were no inns in the -town. - -He won Andr as well before the evening was over. And when they found he -had no plans, only a vague desire to offer his services to the new -government that in other days had aroused such an interest in France, -they bade him remain with them. He had both seen and heard the Marquis -de Lafayette after his return to France, when he had been full of -enthusiasm for the new people. - -"But, Monsieur Robert, you are French," said Andr. "And in the turns of -fate we may some day have a French country here. Anyhow, a man may earn -his bread; and from what I hear, the colonies are not overstocked with -prosperity. Better wait awhile and cast in your lot with us." - -Robert de Longueville was very glad to. He thought of the Reign of -Terror with a shudder, and often wondered about Honor, hearing at last -that he was safe in an outlying district of northern France. - - - - -CHAPTER XXII - -A NEW ST. LOUIS - - -Once again the French flag waved over St. Louis and hearts beat high -with joy. Not that they had been unhappy or discontented under the -Spanish _rgime_, though the place had remained stationery. Except for -the fur trade and the energies of the house of Maxent Laclede & Co. with -their _entrepot_, it would still have been a little French hamlet. Even -now it had scarcely two hundred buildings and less than a thousand -inhabitants. Yet perhaps few places could boast of forty years of -content and happiness and such peaceful living. - -So down came the Spanish flag and up went the lilies of France. There -was a night of rejoicing. People scarcely went to bed. Fiddles and -flutes played old French airs, and songs were sung; but, after all, the -people were decorous and there was no orgie. Most of these men had never -known Parisian enthusiasm. Robert de Longueville marvelled at it and the -simplicity. - -It was well, perhaps, to have had those few hours of jubilation for men -to talk about in their old age. For the next day a company came over -from the fort and held a consultation with Lieutenant-Governor -Dellassus. And then the royal lilies came down slowly, sadly, it seemed, -and men's hearts beat with sudden apprehension. What did it mean? They -gathered in little knots and their faces were blanched. - -Captain Stoddard raised the new colors--broad bands of red and white and -thirteen stars on a blue field. The brave colonies had taken another -leap and crossed the Mississippi. Here at the old Spanish quarters, -March, 1804, the last vestige of hope fluttered and died in the French -heart. The breeze caught the flag and flung it out and a few cheers went -up, but they were from the Americans, and the salutes even had a -melancholy sound. - -"St. Louis," said some one. "Will they take away the name, too? Are we -to be orphans?" - -Others wept. Some of the better informed tried to explain, but it was -half-heartedly. No one was certain of what was to come. These -conquerors, yes, they were that, spoke a different tongue, had a -different religion, were aggressive, a resistless power that might sweep -them beyond the mountains. - -There was no rejoicing that night. There were no cabarets in which men -could drink and discuss the change. They went to each other's houses and -sat moodily by firesides. Old St. Louis was lost to them and hearts were -very heavy. - -Spain had ceded the whole of Louisiana to France, and again France had -sold her desirable possession. Napoleon, hating the English and wanting -the money to carry on his war against them, had bargained with the -United States. All the great country lying westward no one knew how far. -And the mighty river was free from troublesome complications. - -Yes, old St. Louis was gone. There was something new in the very air, an -energy where there had been a leisurely aspect; a certain roughness -instead of simplicity, pioneer life. No avalanche swept over them, but -people came from the other side of the river, stalwart boatmen, stalwart -hunters, with new and far-reaching ideas. Schools, poor enough at first, -but teaching something besides the catechism and a little arithmetic. -There were books to read, discoveries to make, mines to unearth, more -profitable ways of labor. The old slow method of work in the salt licks -was improved upon, as well as that of the lead mines. Upper Louisiana -held in its borders some of the great wealth of the world. Spanish -language dropped out, French began to be a good deal mixed, and men -found it to their advantage to learn English. The stockade and the round -towers dropped down, and no one repaired them, because the town was -going to stretch out. New houses were built, but many of them seemed as -queer at a later date, with their second-floor galleries approached by a -stairs from the outside. The high-peaked roofs with their perky windows -looked down on the old one-story houses of split logs and plaster. -Laclede's town, about a mile long, was old enough to have legends -growing about it when men sat out on stoops and smoked their pipes. - -Yet there was enough of the past left to still afford content and -romance. Robert de Longueville proved himself a capable young fellow and -turned his past education to some account. He had a truly French -adoration for his half sister that presently won quite a regard from -Gaspard Denys. - -Robert was fascinated as well with the half Indian wife of M. Marchand, -and never tired of the wild legends of fur hunting and life up at the -strait. Then the ten children were a great source of interest as well. -There were only two girls among them, the boys growing up tall, strong -and fine-looking, proud of their mother, who kept curiously young and -occasionally put on all her Indian finery for their amusement. - -Rene was quite fair and rather petite, and with such shining eyes they -often called her Firefly. Then Robert fell in love with her, and there -was another Rene de Longueville to hand down the name, and very proud -felt Rene Valbonais of the fact. - -The little old church was partly rebuilt in the repairing, and was -turned about. Then many years afterward it became the French Cathedral -on Walnut Street. The high, stiff pews savor of olden time. There are -still several paintings in it, one very fine, sent by Louis, the King of -France. And there are the inscriptions in four languages, two modern and -two ancient. - -When Rene Valbonais knelt in her pew at the consecration her face was -still sweet, her eyes brown, soft and smiling, but the hair curling -about her forehead was snowy white. On this spot she had prayed for -Uncle Gaspard's safe return, then she had prayed to be made willing to -give him up if it was for his happiness. Now she had very little to pray -for, so many blessings had been showered upon her by the good God. So -her heart was all one great thanksgiving, and she felt that at the last -she could "depart in peace." - -When it was set off from Louisiana, when it became a Territory and then -a State, St. Louis remained the capital. Brick and finished frame houses -were built, stores and factories, a newspaper started, a steamboat came -up the river, and that revolutionized the trade. - -Then it was to change curiously again. The Americans had nearly -superseded the French. Some of them went to the towns below, -intermarriages became common as the prejudices died away. Then there was -a great German emigration. The failure of patriotic hopes at home in the -Old World sent many across to the New World. They were of the better -class, educated, energetic and earnest for freedom of thought. Again in -1849 they were largely recruited after another unsuccessful revolution. - -Eighty-three years after the founding of the town they held a grand -celebration. Only one member of Pierre Laclede Liquist's company, who -had planted and named the town, was living. This was the president of -the day, Pierre Chouteau. The fine old madame, who had gloried in her -brave sons, had passed to the other country. Four mounted Indians in -full costume were the bodyguard of the venerable president, and in the -carriages were a few withered-up, brown-faced Frenchmen, who had made -themselves log houses along those early years and lived their simple -lives, raised their families, danced in the merry-makings and now felt -almost like aliens. - -Gaspard Denys, still hale and hearty, was among them, past eighty, but -clear of eye and steady of step. He had seen his godson, young Gaspard, -grow up into a fine, manly fellow, marry a sweet girl and have sons to -carry on the name. What more could a man ask than a well-used life and a -certain share of happiness? But they had gone back on the next rise of -ground, for business had seized with its inexorable grasp on the old -home where Rene had sat and dreamed beside the great chimney and Mre -Lunde had nodded. - -Way out to the side of the old pond they had gone, where there was still -a forest on one side of them. Great hickories, pecans, trees useful for -food and fuel and building houses, long reaches of tangled grapes that -made all the air sweet at their blossoming and again at their ripening, -fields and meadows, the garden near by, the house with great porches, a -wide hall and beautiful stairway, with no need of outside climbing. - -"Here we will end our days," Gaspard Denys said to the child of the -woman he still dreamed about, more vividly, perhaps, now than at middle -life. For there was the wide stone chimney, the great corners in the -fireplace. Sometimes on a winter night they stood a pine torch in the -corner, and it gave the weird, flickering light they used to love. - -Across the hall would be young people dancing. But there was no more -Guinolee, no more anxious, eager crowds to see who would get the beans -in the cake, no strife to be queens, no anxiety to be chosen kings; -that, with other old things, had passed away. - -"I wonder," Rene says, smiling absently, "if they have as good times as -they used to in old St. Louis? There are so many pleasures now." - -No one goes round on New Year's Eve singing songs, saying, "Good-night, -master; good-night, mistress. I wish you great joy and good luck." - -And this was to be all swept away by the imperious demand of the growing -city; but it was true then that Rene and Andr Valbonais and Gaspard -Denys had gone to that country which is never to know any change, for -God is in the midst of it. - -Before the century was half gone the dream of the old explorers had come -true, and many a new explorer gave up his life, as well as De Soto and -La Salle. For out on the western coasts, over mountain fastnesses, -through gorges and beyond the Mississippi thousands of miles lay the -land of gold; lay, too, a new road to India. Out and out on the high -ground has stretched the great city. The old mill and the queer winding -pond went long ago. The Chouteau house, where there were many gatherings -both grave and gay of the older people, is the Merchants' Exchange. Here -and there a place is marked by some memento. But when you see the little -old map with its Rue this and that, one smiles and contrasts its small -levee with the twenty or more miles of water front, kept, too, within -bounds, bridged over magnificently. And if its traders are not as -picturesque as Indians and _voyageurs_ and trappers in their different -attire, they still seem from almost every nation. - -Most of the French have gone. There is no exclusive French circle, as in -New Orleans. Here and there a family is proud to trace back its ancestry -and keep alive the old tongue. But the old houses have disappeared as -well. Sometimes one finds one of the second decade, with its gable -windows jutting out of the peaked roof, and one waits to see a brown, -dried-up, wrinkled face in French coif and gay shoulder shawl peering -out, but it is only a dream. - -And surely the Germans earned their birthright with the loyalty of those -days when the whole country was rent with the throes of civil war. There -was a delightful, friendly, well-bred class of planters from the middle -Southern States, who had lovely homes in and about the town, and who -clung to their traditions, the system of slavery being more to them than -a united country. But the patriotism of these adopted citizens, who had -learned many wise lessons at a high price, was a wall against which the -forces threw themselves to defeat, and again the everlasting truth -conquered. - -The youth of cities is the childhood of maturer purposes, knowledge, -experience. Each brings with it the traditions of race, of surroundings, -to outgrow them later on. Does one really sigh for the past, looking at -the present? At the towns and cities and the wealth-producing -inventions, where the silence of the wilderness reigned a hundred years -ago, or broken only by the wild animals that ranged in their depths, and -here and there an Indian lodge? And the new race, born of many others, -proud, generous, courageous, men of breadth and foresight, who have -bridged streams and hewn down mountains, made the solitary gorges -familiar pictures to thousands, and have had their wise and earnest -opinions moulded into public wisdom and usefulness, mothers who have -added sweetness and wholesome nurture and refined daily living, children -growing up to transform the beautiful city again, perhaps, though as one -walks its splendid streets one wonders if there is any better thing to -come, if the genius of man can devise more worthiness. - -The new white city may answer it to the countless thousands who will -come from all the quarters of the globe. - -But the Little Girl and Old St. Louis had their happy day and are -garnered among the memories of the past. - -THE END. - - - - -THE "LITTLE GIRL" SERIES - - A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD NEW YORK. - HANNAH ANN; A SEQUEL. - A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. - A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD PHILADELPHIA. - A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD WASHINGTON. - A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD NEW ORLEANS. - A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD DETROIT. - A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD ST. LOUIS. - - - -***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD ST. LOUIS*** - - -******* This file should be named 41526-8.txt or 41526-8.zip ******* - - -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: -http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/4/1/5/2/41526 - - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, -set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to -copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to -protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project -Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you -charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. 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You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - - - - -Title: A Little Girl in Old St. Louis - - -Author: Amanda Minnie Douglas - - - -Release Date: December 1, 2012 [eBook #41526] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) - - -***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD ST. LOUIS*** - - -E-text prepared by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed Proofreading -Team (http://www.pgdp.net) - - - -A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD ST. LOUIS - -by - -AMANDA M. DOUGLAS - -Author of "A Little Girl in Old Boston," "A Little Girl in Old Detroit," -"A Little Girl in Old Washington," etc. - - - - - - - -New York -Dodd, Mead & Company -1903 - -Copyright, 1903. -By Dodd, Mead and Company. - -Published, September, 1903. - -Burr Printing House, -New York. - - - - -CONTENTS - CHAPTER I--RENEE DE LONGUEVILLE - CHAPTER II--OLD ST. LOUIS - CHAPTER III--A NEW HOME - CHAPTER IV--THE SOWING OF A THORN - CHAPTER V--WITH A TOUCH OF SORROW - CHAPTER VI--BY THE FIRESIDE - CHAPTER VII--AT THE KING'S BALL - CHAPTER VIII--THE SURPRISE - CHAPTER IX--PRISONERS - CHAPTER X--IN THE WILDERNESS - CHAPTER XI--WAS EVER WELCOME SWEETER - CHAPTER XII--HER ANSWER - CHAPTER XIII--PASSING YEARS - CHAPTER XIV--AT THE BALL - CHAPTER XV--GATHERING THISTLES - CHAPTER XVI--THE RISE IN THE RIVER - CHAPTER XVII--RIVALS - CHAPTER XVIII--A FINE ADJUSTMENT - CHAPTER XIX--THIS WAY AND THAT - CHAPTER XX--WHEN A WOMAN WILL - CHAPTER XXI--FROM ACROSS THE SEA - CHAPTER XXII--A NEW ST. LOUIS - - - - - Cities that have grown from small hamlets seldom keep register of - their earlier days, except in the legends handed down in families. St. - Louis has the curious anomaly of beginning over several times. For the - earliest knowledge of how the little town looked I wish to express my - obligations for some old maps and historical points to Mr. Frederick - M. Crunden, Public Librarian, Miss Katharine I. Moody, and Colonel - David Murphy. - - A. M. Douglas. - - - - -CHAPTER I - -RENEE DE LONGUEVILLE - - -The bell had clanged and the gates of the stockade were closed. There -were some houses on the outside; there was not so much fear of the -Indians here, for the French had the art of winning them into -friendship. Farms were cultivated, and the rich bottom lands produced -fine crops. Small as the town was twenty years before the eighteenth -century ended, it was the headquarters of a flourishing trade. The -wisdom of Pierre Laclede had laid the foundation of a grand city. The -lead mines even then were profitably worked, and supplied a large tract -of the Mississippi River east and west. - -Antoine Freneau stood a few moments in the door of his log hut, down by -the old Mill Creek, listening with his hand to one ear. There were -sounds of spring all about, but he was not heeding them. Then he turned, -closed the door, which was braced on the inner side with some rough iron -bands; fastened it with the hook, and let down a chain. He was seldom -troubled with unexpected evening visitors. - -The log hut was hidden at the back with trees enough to form a sort of -grove. It had two rooms. This at the front was a sort of miscellaneous -storehouse. Freneau did quite a trade with the Indians and the boatmen -going up and down the river. There was no real attempt at orderly -store-keeping. Articles were in heaps and piles. One had almost to -stumble over them. - -The back room was larger. There was a stone chimney, with a great wide -fireplace, where Freneau was cooking supper. In the far corner was a bed -raised on sawed rounds of logs, with skins stretched over the framework, -on which was a sack of hay with a heap of Indian blankets, just as he -had crawled out of it in the morning. A table and three stools -manufactured by himself; a rude sort of closet, and a curious old -brass-bound chest, now almost black with age, completed the furnishing. -The puncheon floor, in common use at that time, was made with logs split -in the middle and the rounding side laid in a sort of clay plaster that -hardened and made it very durable. The top would get worn smooth -presently. The walls were hung with various trophies and arms of -different kinds. Two windows had battened shutters; one stood a little -way open, and this was on the creek side. - -The supper had a savory fragrance. He had baked a loaf of bread on a -heated flat stone, spreading the dough out thin and turning it two or -three times. A dish of corn stewed with salted pork, a certain kind of -coffee compounded of roasted grains and crushed in the hollow of a -stone, gave out a fragrance, and now he was broiling some venison on the -coals. - -There were sundry whispers about the old man as to smuggling. Once his -place had been searched, he standing by, looking on and jibing the men -so engaged, turning any apparent mystery inside out for them. Then he -would be gone days at a time, but his house was securely fastened. -Occasionally he had taken longer journeys, and once he had brought back -from New Orleans a beautiful young wife, who died when her baby girl was -born. The nurse had taken it to her home in Kaskaskia. Then it had been -sent to the Sisters' School at New Orleans. She had been home all one -winter and had her share in the merry making. In the spring her father -took her to Canada, to the great disappointment of hosts of admirers. At -Quebec she was married and went to France. That was ten years ago. He -had grown queer and morose since, and turned miserly. - -There was a peremptory thump at the door, and Antoine started, glancing -wildly about an instant, then went through and unfastened the stout -hook. The chain he did not remove: it was about a foot from the floor -and well calculated to trip up any unwary intruder and send him -sprawling face downward. - -The night had grown dark, and a mist-like rain had set in. The trees -were beating about in the rising wind. - -"Open wide to us, Antoine Freneau! See what I have brought you, if you -can make light enough." - -"Gaspard Denys--is it you? Why, I thought you were in the wilds of -Canada. And----" - -He kicked aside the chain and peered over at the small figure beside -Gaspard. - -Gaspard had just stood the child down, and his arms tingled with the -strain when the muscles were set loose. - -"You have brought her!" - -There was a sound in the voice far from welcome, almost anger. - -"Yes; your messenger from New Orleans told the truth. The nurse or -companion, whatever you may call her, had instructions, if no one -claimed her, to place her in a convent." - -"And you--you interfered?" Freneau struck his clinched fist hard on a -pile of skins. - -Gaspard laughed. - -"What I am to do with a child is more than I can tell," Freneau said -doggedly, almost threateningly. - -"Well, you can give us something to eat. Your supper has a grand -fragrance to a hungry man. Then we can discuss the other points. A bear -taken away from his meal is always cross--eh, Antoine?" - -Freneau turned swarthy; he was dark, and the red tinge added made him -look dangerous. - -"I don't understand----" - -"Well, neither do I. You married your daughter to a French title when -you knew she would have been happier here with a young fellow who loved -her; and--yes, I am sure she loved me. Somewhere back, when my forebears -called themselves St. Denys, there might have been a title in the -family. In this New World we base our titles on our courage, ambitions, -successes. Then her little daughter was born, and she pined away in the -old Chateau de Longueville and presently died, while her husband was -paying court and compliments to the ladies at the palace of Louis XVII. -There are deep mutterings over in France. And De Longueville, with his -half dozen titles, marries one of Marie Antoinette's ladies in waiting. -The child goes on in the old chateau. Two boys are born to the French -inheritance, and little mademoiselle is not worth a rush. She will be -sent to her grandfather somewhere in the province of Louisiana. But the -nurse goes to Canada to marry her lover, expatriated for some cause. You -see, I know it all. If mademoiselle had stayed in France she would have -been put in a convent." - -"The best thing! the best thing!" interrupted the old man irascibly. - -"Word was sent to enter her in a convent at Quebec. Well, I have brought -her here. Give us some supper." - -He had been taking off the child's cap and coat after they entered the -living room. A great flaming torch stood up in one corner of the -chimney, and shed a peculiar golden-red light around the room, leaving -some places in deep shadow. The old man turned his meat, took up his -cake of bread, and put them on the table. Then he went for plates and -knives. - -"This is your grandfather, Renee," Denys said, turning the child to face -him. - -The girl shrank a little, and then suddenly surveyed him from his yarn -stockings and doeskin breeches up to his weather-beaten and not -especially attractive face, surmounted by a shock of grizzled hair. She -looked steadily out of large brown eyes. She was slim, with a clear-cut -face and air of dignity, a child of nine or so. Curiously enough, his -eyes fell. He turned in some confusion without a word and went on with -his preparations. - -"Let us have some supper. It is not much. Even if I had expected a guest -I could not have added to it." - -"It is a feast to a hungry man. Our dinner was not over-generous." - -Gaspard took one side of his host and placed the little girl opposite -her grandfather. She evinced no surprise. She had seen a good deal of -rough living since leaving old Quebec. - -Antoine broke the bread in chunks and handed it to each. The dish of -corn was passed and the venison steak divided. - -"After this long tramp I would like to have something stronger than your -home-brewed coffee, though that's not bad. Come, be a little friendly to -a returned traveller," exclaimed the guest. - -"You should have had it without the asking, Gaspard Denys, if you had -given me a moment's time. You came down the Illinois, I suppose?" - -"To St. Charles. There the boat was bound to hang up for the night. But -Pierre Joutel brought us down in his piroque after an endless amount of -talk. There was a dance at St. Charles. So it was dark when we reached -here. Lucky you are outside the stockade." - -"And you carried me," said the child, in a clear, soft voice that had a -penetrative sound. - -Antoine started. Why should he hear some pleading in the same voice -suddenly strike through the years? - -Gaspard poured out a glass of wine. Then he offered the bottle to -Antoine, who shook his head. - -"How long since?" asked Gaspard mockingly. - -"I do not drink at night." - -"Renee, you are not eating. This corn is good, better than with the -fish. And the bread! Antoine, you could change the name of the town or -the nickname. Go into the baking business." - -Freneau shrugged his shoulders. - -Scarcity of flour and bread had at one time given the town the -appellation of Pain Court. Now there were two bakeries, but many of the -settlers made excellent bread. Freneau's bread cake was split in the -middle and buttered, at least Gaspard helped himself liberally and -spread the child's piece with the soft, sweet, half-creamy compound. - -"You must eat a little of the meat, Renee. You must grow rosy and stout -in this new home." - -The men ate heartily enough. Everything was strange to her, though for -that matter everything had been strange since leaving the old chateau. -The post-chaise, the day in Paris, the long journey across the ocean, -the city of Quebec with its various peoples, and the other journey -through lakes and over portages. Detroit, where they had stayed two days -and that had appeared beautiful to her; the little towns, the sail down -the Illinois River to the greater one that seemed to swallow it up. - -Marie Loubet had said her rich grandfather in the new country had sent -for her, and that her father did not care for her since his sons were -born. Indeed, he scarcely gave her a thought until it occurred to him -that her American-French grandfather was well able to provide for her. -Her mother's dot had been spent long ago. He wanted to sell the old -chateau and its many acres of ground, for court living was high, and the -trend of that time was extravagance. - -"You had better place your daughter in a convent," said the amiable -stepmother, who had never seen the little girl but twice. "The boys will -be all we can care for. I hope heaven will not send me any daughters. -They must either have a large dot or striking beauty. And I am sure this -girl of yours will not grow up into a beauty." - -Yet her mother had been beautiful the Count remembered. And he smiled -when he thought of the dower he had exacted from the old trader. No -doubt there was plenty of money still, and this grandchild had the best -right to it. She might like it better than convent life. - -Marie's lover had emigrated two years before, and had sent her money to -pay her passage. Why, it was almost a miraculous opening. So Renee de -Longueville was bundled off to the new country. - -And now she sat here, taking furtive glances at her grandfather, who did -not want her. No one in her short life had been absolutely cross to her, -and she was quite used to the sense of not being wanted until she met -Gaspard Denys. Of the relationships of life she knew but little; yet her -childish heart had gone out with great fervor to him when he said, "I -loved your mother. I ought to have married her; then you would have been -my little girl." - -"Why did you not?" she asked gravely. Then with sweet seriousness, "I -should like to be your little girl." - -"You shall be." He pressed her to his heart, and kissed down amid the -silken curls. - -So now she did not mind her grandfather's objection to her; she knew -with a child's intuition he did not want her. But she could, she _did_, -belong to Uncle Gaspard, and so she was safe. A better loved child might -have been crushed by the knowledge, but she was always solacing herself -with the next thing. This time it was the first, the very first thing, -and her little heart gave a beat of joy. - -Yet she was growing tired and sleepy, child fashion. The two men were -talking about the fur trade, the pelts that had come in, the Indians and -hunters that were loitering about. It had been a long day to her, and -the room was warm. The small head drooped lower with a nod. - -There was a pile of dressed skins one side of the room, soft and silken, -Freneau's own curing. - -Gaspard paused suddenly, glanced at her, then rose and took her in his -arms and laid her down on them tenderly. She did not stir, only the rosy -lips parted as with a half smile. - -"Yes, tell me what to do with her," Antoine exclaimed, as if that had -been the gist of the conversation. "You see I have no one to keep house; -then I am out hunting, going up and down the river, working my farm. I -couldn't be bothered with womankind. I can cook and keep house and wash -even. I like living alone. I could send her to New Orleans," raising his -eyes furtively. - -"You will do nothing of the kind," said the other peremptorily. "Antoine -Freneau, you owe me this child. You know I was in love with the mother." - -"You were a mere boy," retorted the old man disdainfully. - -"I was man enough to love her then and always. I have never put any one -in her place. And the last time we walked together over yonder by the -pond, I told her I was going up north to make money for her, and that in -a year I should come back. I was twenty, she just sixteen. I can see her -now; I can hear her voice in the unformed melody of the child's. We made -no especial promise, but we both knew. I meant to ask your consent when -I came back. Seven months afterward, on my return, I found you had -whisked her off and married her to the Count, who, after all, cared so -little for her that her child is nothing to him. I don't know what lies -you told her, but I know she would never have given me up without some -persuasion near to force." - -The old man knew. It had been a lie. He kept out of Gaspard's way for -the next two years, and it was well for him. - -"There was no force," he returned gruffly. "Do you not suppose a girl -can see? He was a fine fellow and loved her, and she was ready to go -with him. No one dragged her to church. Well, the priest would have had -something to say. They are not wild Indians at Quebec, and know how to -treat a woman." - -Gaspard had never forced more than this out of him. But he was sure some -trickery had won the day and duped them both. - -"Well, what have you gained?" mockingly. "You might have kept your -daughter here and had grandchildren growing up about you, instead of -living like a lonely old hermit." - -"The life suits me well enough," in a gruff tone. - -"Then give me the child that should have been mine. You don't want her." - -"What will you do with her?" - -"Have a home some day and put her in it." - -"Bah! And you are off months at a time!" - -"There would be some one to look after her. I shall not lead this roving -life forever. If she were less like her mother you might keep her, since -you were so won by her father. And I am not a poor man, Antoine -Freneau." - -"She is such a child." Did Gaspard mean that some day he might want to -marry her? - -"That is what I want. Oh, you don't know----" - -He paused abruptly. Antoine could never understand the longing that had -grown upon him through these weeks to possess the child, to play at -fatherhood. - -"No, I shall not be likely to marry," almost as if he had suspected what -was in Antoine's pause, but he did not. "And I've envied the fathers of -children. They had something to work for, to hope for. And now I say I -want Renee because she is such a child. I wish she could stay like this -just five years; then I'd be willing to have her grow up. But I know -you, Antoine Freneau, and you won't take half care of her; you couldn't -love her, it isn't in you. But you shall not crowd her out of love." - -"You talk like a fool, Gaspard Denys! But if you want the child--I am an -old man, and I tell you frankly that I don't know what to do with her. I -would have to change my whole life." - -"And I would be glad to change mine for such a cause. You must promise -not to interfere in any way. We will have some writings drawn up and -signed before the priest." - -Antoine gave a yawn. "To-morrow, or any time you like. What are you -going to do now? It is late. If you will take a shakedown in the other -room--you see, I'm not prepared for visitors." - -"Yes; I have slept in worse places. The child has a box of clothes at -St. Charles. Hers will have to do for to-night." - -He straightened out the impromptu bed and fixed the child more -comfortably. He was tired and sleepy himself. Antoine lighted a bit of -wick drawn through a piece of tin floating in a bowl of oily grease and -took it in the storeroom, where both men soon arranged a sort of bunk. - -"Good-night," said Antoine, and shut the door. - -But he did not go to bed. The fire had mostly burned out, and now the -torch dropped down and the room was full of shadows. He sat awhile on -the edge of the bed and made it creak; then he rose and opened the -shutter very softly, creeping out. Even then he listened suspiciously. -Turning, he ran swiftly down to the river's edge, through the wet sedge -of last year's grass. Then he gave a low whistle. - -Some one answered with an oath. "We were just going away," in a hissing -French voice. "What the devil kept you so?" - -"I could not get away. There was a fellow," and Antoine prefaced the -excuse with an oath. "He wouldn't go; I had to fix a bunk for him." - -"Antoine Freneau, if you betray us--" in a threatening tone. - -"Ah, bah! Would I kill the goose that lays golden eggs? Come, hurry." - -They unloaded some cases from the piroque and dumped them on the soft -ground. - -"Now, carry them yourself. What! No barrow? You are a fool! But we must -be off up the river." - -There was considerable smuggling in spite of the watchfulness of the -authorities. Duties were levied on so many things, and some--many, -indeed--closely under government supervision. - -Antoine Freneau tugged and swore. The cases of brandy were not light. He -went back and forth, every time peering in the window and listening; but -all was quiet. The cases he hid among the trees. He had drawn some tree -branches, ostensibly for firewood, and covered the cases with this brush -until he could dispose of them more securely. - -Once, several years before, his house had been thoroughly ransacked in -his absence. He knew he was suspected of unlawful dealings, and he had a -dim misgiving that Gaspard had one end of the secret. He had more than -once been very overbearing. - -He came in wet and tired, and, disrobing himself, crawled into bed. Fine -work, indeed, it would be to have a housekeeper and a prying child! He -laughed to think Gaspard fancied that he would be unwilling to give her -up. - -Still he had hated Count de Longueville that he should have extorted so -much dowry. But then it seemed a great thing to have titled grandsons -and a daughter with the entree of palaces, although he would never have -gone to witness her state and consequence. - -Every year money had grown dearer and dearer to him, though, miser like, -he made no spread, never bragged, but pleaded poverty when he paid -church dues at Christmas and Easter. - - - - -CHAPTER II - -OLD ST. LOUIS - - -Soon after daylight the strong west wind drove away the rain and clouds. -The air was soft and balmy, full of the indescribable odors of spring. -Birds began their pipings; robin and thrush and meadow-larks and -wood-pigeons went circling about on glistening wings. - -Antoine found himself some dry clothes and kindled his fire. He would -bake a few corn cakes; they had demolished the loaf of bread last night. -There was a flitch of dried bacon and some eggs. - -The door opened, and Gaspard wished his host good-morning. Renee was -still asleep. - -There was a little rivulet that emptied in the mill pond, and near the -house Freneau had hollowed out quite a basin. Gaspard went down here for -his morning ablutions. A tall, well-developed man, just turned of thirty -with a strong, decisive face, clear blue eyes that could flash like -steel in a moment of indignation, yet in the main were rather humorous; -chestnut hair, closely cropped, and a beard trimmed in the same fashion. -He soused his head now in the miniature basin and shook it like a water -dog. Then he drew in long breaths of the divine morning air, and glanced -about with a sort of worship in his heart, took a few steps this way and -that. Antoine watched him with bated breath, he was so near the secret. - -But Denys had heard nothing in the night. He was tired and had slept -soundly. Suddenly he bethought himself of the little girl and went into -the house. Antoine was preparing breakfast. Renee was sitting up, -glancing round. She had been in so many strange places this did not -disturb her. - -She rose upright now, and stretched out her hands with a half-timid, -half-joyous smile. - -"Uncle Gaspard," she said, "where are we?" - -Old Antoine raised his head. The French was so pure, the voice had an -old reminder of the one back of her mother. - -"We are at St. Louis, child." - -"And where is the King?" - -"Oh, my little girl, back in France. There is no king here. And we are -not French any longer, but Spanish." - -"I am French." She said it proudly. - -"We keep our hearts and our language French. Some day there may be -another overturn. I do not see as it matters much. The Spanish are -pretty good to us." - -"Good! And with these cursed river laws!" grumbled Antoine. - -"If report says true, it can't interfere very much with you." - -"Report is a liar," the man flung out savagely. - -Gaspard Denys laughed. - -After a moment he said, "Isn't there a towel or a cloth of some kind? I -dried myself in the air." - -"I told you I had not any accommodations for womenkind. You should have -left her at the convent. Farther back, it is De Longueville's business -to care for her." - -"But you see he did not. You and he are her only blood kin, and you both -cast her off. It is well she has found a friend." - -"The convent and the Sisters would have been better." - -"Come, man, some sort of a towel," exclaimed Denys imperatively. - -Antoine rummaged in the old chest, and presently brought forth one. -Denys noted that it was soft and fine and not of home manufacture. Then -he led Renee out to the little basin and, dipping the towel in, washed -her face and hands. - -"Oh, how good it feels!" she cried delightedly. - -Gaspard had grown quite used to playing lady's maid. He took a comb out -of its case of Indian work that he carried about in his pocket, and -combed out the tumbled hair. She winced now and then at a bad tangle, -and laughed on the top of it. Then he bent over and kissed her on the -forehead. She caught his head in her small arms and pressed her soft -cheek against his caressingly. - -"I love you, Uncle Gaspard," she exclaimed. "But I don't love that old -man in there. Are you sure he is my grandfather? I couldn't live here. I -should run away and live with the birds and the squirrels." - -"And the Indians." - -"But that Light of the Moon was sweet and pretty." - -"Yes. I should like to have brought her with us for your maid." - -"Oh, that would have been nice!" She clapped her hands. "What is over -there?" nodding her head. - -"That is St. Louis--the fort, the palisades, the stockade to keep out the -Indians." - -"There are no Indians in France," she said retrospectively. - -"No. And I have wondered a little, Renee, if you would not rather be -back there." - -"And not have you?" She clung to his arm. - -He gave a little sigh. - -"Oh, are you not glad to have me? Does no one want me?" - -The pathos of the young voice pierced his heart. - -"Yes, I want you. I had no one to care for, no brothers or sisters or----" - -"Men have wives and children." There was a touch of almost regret in her -tone, as if she were sorry for him. - -"And you are my child. We will go in town to-day and find some one to -look after you. And there will be children to play with." - -"Oh, I shall be so glad. Little girls?" - -"Yes. I know ever so many." - -"I saw my little brothers in Paris as we came through. They were very -pretty--at least their clothes were. And papa's wife--well, I think the -Queen couldn't have had any finer gown. They were just going to the -palace, and papa kissed me farewell. It was very dreary at the old -chateau. And when the wind blew through the great trees it seemed like -people crying. Old Pierre used to count his beads." - -What a strange, dreary life the little girl had had! It should all be -better now. The child of the woman he had loved! - -"If grandfather is rich, as Marie said, why does he live that way?" - -She made a motion toward the house. - -"No one knows whether he is rich or not. He trades a little with the -Indians and the boats going up and down the river." - -The shrill summons to breakfast reached them. - -They went in, the child holding tightly to Gaspard's hand. It seemed as -if her grandfather looked more forbidding now than he had last night. He -was both sulky and surly, but the viands were appetizing, and this -morning Renee felt hungry. Gaspard was glad to see her eat. The old man -still eyed her furtively. - -"Well?" he interrogated, as they rose from the table, looking meaningly -at Gaspard. - -"We are going in the town, the child and I," Gaspard replied briefly. - -Antoine nodded. - -Oh, what a morning it was! The air seemed fairly drenched with the new -growth of everything; the tints were indescribable. Some shrubs and -flowers had begun to bloom. Renee had seen so much that was cold and -bleak, trees leafless and apparently lifeless amid the almost black -green of hemlocks and firs. Streams and pools frozen over, and a -coldness that seemed to penetrate one's very soul. At Detroit it had -softened a little and all along the journey since then were heralds of -warmth and beauty. The child, too, expanded in it, and the changes in -her face interested Gaspard intently. He was a great lover of nature -himself. - -Early St. Louis was all astir. From the bustle, the sound of voices, the -gesticulation, and running to and fro, it appeared as if there might be -thousands of people instead of six or seven hundred. Everything looked -merry, everybody was busy. There was a line of boats coming, others -already at the primitive landings, Indians and trappers in picturesque -attire, gay feathers and red sashes; fringes down the sides of their -long leggings and the top of their moccasins. Traders were there, too, -sturdy brown-faced Frenchmen, many of whom had taken a tour or two up in -the North Country themselves, and had the weather-beaten look that comes -of much living out of doors. Children ran about, black-eyed, -rosy-cheeked, shrill of voice. Small Indians, with their grave faces and -straight black hair, and here and there a squaw with her papoose -strapped to her back. - -Gaspard Denys paused a moment to study them. He really had an artist's -soul; these pictures always appealed to him. - -They came in the old Rue Royale, skirting the river a short distance, -then turned up to the Rue d'Eglise. Here was a low stone house, rather -squat, the roof not having a high peak. A wide garden space, with fruit -trees and young vegetables, some just peeping up from brown beds and a -great space in front where grass might have grown if little feet had not -trodden it so persistently. A broad porch had a straw-thatched roof, and -here already a young girl sat spinning, while several children were -playing about. - -"Lisa! Lisa!" called the girl, rising. "Ah, Monsieur Denys, we are very -glad to see you. You have been absent a long while. You missed the -merry-making and--and we missed you," blushing. - -A pretty girl, with dark eyes and hair done up in a great coil of -braids; soft peachy skin with a dainty bloom on the cheek and a dimple -in the broad chin. Her lips had the redness of a ripe red cherry that is -so clear you almost think it filled with wine. - -"And I am glad to see you, Barbe," taking her outstretched hand. "Ought -I to say 'ma'm'selle' now?" glancing her all over, from the braids done -up to certain indications in the attire of womanhood. - -She blushed and laughed. "Oh, I hope I have not grown as much as that. I -should like always to be Barbe to you." - -"But some day you may be married. Then you will be madame to everybody." - -"Lise thinks I have too good a home to give up lightly. I am very -happy." - -Madame Renaud came out of the house. She was taller and larger than her -sister, but with the same dark eyes and hair. Her sleeves were rolled up -above her elbows and showed a plump, pretty arm; her wide, homespun -apron nearly covered her. - -"Oh, Gaspard--M'sieu Denys! You are such a stranger and we have missed -you much, much," with an emphasis. "We were not sure but some Quebec -belle would capture you and keep you there. You will have warm welcomes. -Whose is the child?" - -The other children had stopped their play and were edging nearer Renee, -who in turn shrank against Denys. - -"I have come to talk about the child. May I not come in? Are you busy?" - -"With bread and cakes. We are not so poorly off if we have a bad name," -smiling with amusement. "Here is a chair, and a stool for the little -one. She looks pale. Is she not well?" - -"She has had a long journey. First across the ocean, then from Quebec in -not the pleasantest of weather for such a tramp. But she has not been -ill a day." - -Denys placed his arm over the child's shoulder, and she leaned her arms -on his knee. - -Madame Renaud raised her eyebrows a trifle. - -"You remember the daughter of Antoine Freneau?" - -"Yes--a little. He took her to Canada and married her to some great -person and she died in France. Poor thing! I wonder if she was happy?" - -She, too, knew of the gossip that Denys had been very much in love with -this girl, and she stole a little furtive glance; but the man's face was -not so ready with confessions. Much hard experience had settled the -lines. - -"Then the Count married again. He is in the King's service at the -palace. They sent the child over to her grandfather. I went to Canada -for her." - -"And this is Renee Freneau's child. Poor thing!" - -She glanced intently at the little girl, who flushed and cast down her -eyes. Why was she always a poor thing? - -"And that is no home for her." - -"I should think not! Home, indeed, in that old cabin, where men meet to -carouse, and strange stories are told," said madame decisively. - -"I am to be her guardian and look after her. I think I shall settle -down. I have tramped about enough to satisfy myself for one while. I -shall go into trading, and have some one keep a house for me and take -care of the child. Meanwhile I must persuade some one to give her -shelter and oversight." - -"Yes, yes, m'sieu," encouragingly. - -"And so I have come to you," looking up, with a bright laugh. - -Gaspard Denys very often obtained just what he wanted without much -argument. Perhaps it was not so much his way as his good judgment of -others. - -"And so I have come to you," he repeated. "If you will take her in a -little while, I think she will enjoy being with children. She has had a -lonely life thus far." - -"Poor thing! Poor little girl, to lose her mother so soon! And you think -old Antoine will make no trouble?" - -"Oh, no, no! He would not know what to do with her." - -Madame Renaud laughed derisively, and gave a nod, throwing her head -back, which displayed her pretty throat. - -"So I shall look after her. He will never interfere. It will not be for -long. And how shall I appear putting on fatherly airs?" in a tone of -amusement. - -"Louis is but two and thirty, and you----" - -"Have just turned thirty," subjoined Gaspard. - -"And little Louis is twelve, stout and sturdy and learning to figure as -well as read under the good pere. Then there are three others, and papa -is as proud of them as was ever any hen with her chicks. I never heard -that Chanticleer was a pattern of fatherly devotion." - -They both laughed at that. - -"And, Gaspard, you should have settled upon some nice girl at the balls. -You have been chosen king times enough." - -He flushed a trifle. "I have been quite a roamer in strange places, and -at first had a fancy for a life of adventure. But, as I said, I think of -settling down now. And if you will keep the little girl for me until I -get a home----" - -"And you want a good housemaid. Gaspard, Mere Lunde has lost her son. -True, he was a great burden and care, and she has spent most of her -little fortune upon him. I think she would be glad----" - -"The very person. Thank you a thousand times, Madame Renaud. I should -want some one settled in her ways, content to stay at home, and with a -tender heart. Yes, Mere Lunde will be the very one. - -"She was going to the pere's; then his niece came from Michilimackinac. -They had bad work at the Mission with the Indians, and she just escaped -with her life and her little boy." - -"Yes; I will see her. It is advised that you get the cage before you -find the bird; but the bird may be captured elsewhere if you wait too -long. The child's box comes in from St. Charles; they would not stir a -step farther last night. I must go and look after it. Then I can send it -here? And Louis will not kick it out of doors when he comes?" smiling -humorously. - -"He will be liker to keep the little one for good and all and let you -whistle," she retorted merrily. - -"Thank you a hundred times until you are better paid. And now I must be -going. I expect the town will almost look strange." - -"And plain after gay Quebec; and Detroit, they say, has some grand -people in it. But, bah, they are English!" with a curl of the lip. - -He rose now. Madame Renaud had not been idle, but had rolled out dough -fairly brown with spices and cut it in little cakes of various shapes, -filling up some baking sheets of tin. - -"You will leave the child? Renee--what is her name? It has slipped my -mind." - -"Renee de Longueville." - -The child clung to his hand. "I want to go with you," she said in a tone -of entreaty. - -"Yes, and see St. Louis? He is her king or was until she touched this -Spanish soil." - -"The Spaniards have been very good to us. But we all hope to go back -again some day. Renee, will you not stay and play with the children? -There is Sophie, about your age or a little older, and Elise----" - -"No," she returned with a long breath; "I want Uncle Gaspard." - -"Adopted already? Well, you will bring her in to dinner?" with a cordial -intonation. - -"If not, to supper." - -"You will tire her to death dragging her around." - -"Oh, heaven forefend," in mock fear. - -He paused a moment or two and glanced at Renee, half questioningly, but -she still clung to him. - -They took their way along the street, but from every corner they had a -glimpse of the river, now flowing lazily along. The French seemed to -have a fancy for building their towns on the margin of a river. Partly, -perhaps, from fear of the Indians, but quite as much from innate -sociability, as they preferred compactness, and did not branch out into -farms until later on. But many of these squares had not more than three -or four houses; some, indeed, only one, the rest devoted to a garden. - -Here was the market, but there were not many customers this morning, -though the stands were attractively arranged. And beyond was the old -Laclede mansion. He it was who had laid out the town and named its -streets. On the main street was his large store, but it was then the end -of Rue Royale. He had welcomed the emigration from Fort Chartres when -the English had taken possession, and set a band of workmen building log -houses for them. His own house was quite roomy and imposing. - -Then they went down to the levee, which presented a busy and picturesque -sight. Boats were being unloaded of bales of furs and articles of -merchandise. Indians with blankets around them or with really gay -trappings; _coureur de bois_; Frenchmen, both jolly and stern, -chaffering, buying, sending piles of skins away on barrows, paying for -them in various kinds of wares, arms, ammunition, beads and trinkets, -though these were mostly taken by the squaws. - -Denys found his parcels and the box belonging to the child, and -responded to the cordial greetings. - -"Here, Noyan," he called to a man who had just trundled his barrow down -and who paused to make an awkward salutation. He had a blue cotton -kerchief tied round his head, buckskin trousers, and a sort of blouse -coat made of coarse woollen stuff, belted in loosely; but it held a -pouch containing tobacco and his knife, and a small hatchet was -suspended from it. - -"M'sieu Denys! One has not seen you for an age! Were you up to the -north? It is a good sight. And have you been making a fortune?" - -The wide, smiling mouth showed white, even teeth. - -"Not up in the fur regions. I took Canada this time." - -"Then thou hast lots of treasures that will set the dames and the maids -crazy with longing. They are gay people in those old towns, and the -state they keep is something like a court, I hear. Have you brought home -Madame Denys? Is it not high time?" - -"Past time," returning the laugh. "But our good Pierre Laclede is -content to remain a bachelor, and why not I?" - -"I am afraid thou art hard to suit. Surely we have pretty maids here; -and at New Orleans it is said they make a man lose his head if they do -but smile on him. A dangerous place that!" and he laughed merrily. - -"Are you busy?" - -"Yes and no. I am to look after M. Maxent's boat load, but it will not -be in until noon. So, if I can catch a job I am ready." - -"Then you are the man for me. Come. They have piled up the freight here -on the wharf. I am a lucky fellow to meet you. I feel quite strange -after my long absence. I suppose the old storehouse has not burned down? -It could not well be robbed," and Monsieur Denys laughed with gay -indifference. - -"When a man has only the coat on his back he need not be afraid of -thieves." - -"Unless he fall among Indians." - -"Ah, bah! yes," with a comical shrug. "And sometimes they take his -skin." - -There were bales strapped up, with thongs of hide over the coarse -covering; some sacks made of hide; several boxes bound about with bands -of iron. Noyan looked them over and considered. - -"I must go twice, M'sieu Denys," looking askance as if his employer -might object. - -"Very well. This box is to go to Madame Renaud's." - -The man nodded, and began to pile on the goods, fastening them with some -stout straps. - -"Do you go, too?" - -"Oh, yes. Here, Jaques, sit on this box and guard these two bundles, and -earn a little more than your salt." - -A shock-headed boy, with a broad, stupid face, had been looking on -indifferently, and now he dropped on the box like a weight of lead, with -a grunt that meant assent and a grin that betokened satisfaction. - -"We must retrace our steps," said Denys to the little girl. "But it is -not far." - -They passed the market again. They turned into the Rue de Rive, just -beyond the Rue Royale. A building of rough stone, with a heavy doorway -that looked as if it had been deserted a long while, which was true -enough. A broad bar had fastened it securely, and the great lock might -have guarded the treasures of Niebelungs. - -Denys unlocked it with some difficulty, threw open the door and -unfastened the shutter. - -"Whew! What a musty old hole! It must be cleaned up. I will attend to -that to-morrow. Dump the things in here, and then go for the others." - -On the western end was an addition of hewn logs, with big posts set in -the corners. Denys marched around and surveyed it. There was a space of -neglected ground, with two or three fine trees and a huddle of -grape-vines fallen to the ground. It did not look altogether inviting. -But just beyond was the Rue de la Tour that led straight out to the old -fort, and only a step farther was the church and the priest's house. -Then, it would not be very far from the Renauds. - -Renee was watching him as he peered about. - -"It looks a dull place for a little girl!" he exclaimed. - -"Are you going to live here?" with some curiosity. - -"Oh, yes. But it will be fixed up. And--a flower garden," hesitatingly. - -"I don't mind if you are here," and she slipped her hand in his with a -gesture of possession. - -"And we will have a nice old woman to get our meals and make our beds -and keep the house tidy. Oh, it will be all right when it is cleared up. -And you will soon know some little girls. And we can take walks around." - -She started suddenly. A bird up in the tree poured forth a torrent of -melody. Her eyes grew luminous, her lips quivered, her pale cheeks -flushed. - -"Oh, birds!" she cried. "I used to talk to them at the chateau and feed -them with crumbs. They would come to my hand." - -"You shall tame them here. Oh, we will have nice times together," and -now he pressed her hand. - -The sweetness of her little face went to his heart. Yes, she was like -her mother. - -Noyan came with the next load, threw off the few parcels, and took his -way to Madame Renaud's. Denys locked his door again and they turned -away. - -"Now we will go and find Mere Lunde. It is up somewhere by the fort. -That will be quite a landmark for you. And the great Indian chief, -Pontiac, that I told you about at Detroit, lies buried there." - -"I do not think I like Indians," she returned gravely. "Only the babies -are so odd, and the little children. It is a pity they should grow up so -cruel." - -"We have kept very good friends with them thus far." - -They had begun to build the new palisades. Yes, here was the fort, and -the Guion house, and the grave that she did not care to linger over. -Then they turned into the street of the Barns, _La rue des Granges_, and -soon found Mere Lunde, who was cooking a savory pottage, and welcomed -Gaspard Denys warmly. - -A little old Frenchwoman such as artists love to paint. She was round in -the shoulders, made so by much stooping over her son and her work in the -tiny garden, where she raised much of her living. She was wrinkled, but -her eyes were bright, and her cheeks still had a color in them. She wore -the coif, her best one being white, but this a sort of faded plaid. Her -skirt just came to her ankles, and to-day she had on sabots, that made a -little clatter as she stepped round. Over her shoulders was pinned a -small gray kerchief. She looked so cheerful and tidy, so honest and -kindly, that she went to one's heart at once. - -M'sieu must hear about her son, poor lad--all she had to live for. Yet, -perhaps, it was well the Good Father took him before she went. And now -she worked a little for the neighbors. Everybody was kind to her. And -would they not partake of her simple meal? It was not much, to be sure, -but it would make her very happy. - -Denys admitted that he was hungry, and Renee's eyes had an assenting -light in them. Over the meal he made his proposal, which Mere Lunde -accepted with tears in her eyes. - -"God is good," she said, crossing herself devoutly. "Father Meurin said -I must have faith, and something would come. Oh, how can I thank you! -Yes, I will gladly keep your house, and care for the child, and strive -to please you every way. Oh, it is, indeed, the best of fortune to -happen to me, when life had begun to look lone and drear." - -"To-morrow, then, we will begin to clear up." - -"Yes; to-morrow," she replied cheerfully. - - - - -CHAPTER III - -A NEW HOME - - -In after years, when Renee de Longueville looked back at what seemed the -real beginning of her life, everything about the old town was enveloped -in a curious glamour. For it was all abloom. Such flowers, such great -trees in pink and white, such fragrance everywhere, and everybody moving -to and fro, as if impelled by some strange power. What were they all -doing? And the children were so merry. To a little girl who had been -mewed up in an old chateau, rather gloomy at that, and no one about but -elderly servants, the transition was mysterious, quite beyond the -child's depth. But she felt the new life in every limb, in every nerve, -and she was full of joy. - -The streets of the old town, if not wide, were comparatively straight; -those running along the river the longest, those stretching up to the -fort only a few squares. Nearly every homestead had its separate lot or -garden, enclosed by some sort of rude fence. Outside were the fields, -cultivated largely in common; woodlands and an immense prairie -stretching out to the northwest. Beside the fort were several towers in -which ammunition was stored, although the Spanish government had a great -fancy for building these. - -Gaspard Denys was very busy cleaning up his place and making some -alterations. In his heart he began to feel quite like a family man. Most -of the stores were kept in the residences, except those down on the -levee. The people seldom suffered from depredations. Their treatment of -the Indians was uniformly honorable, and they kept them as much as -possible from the use of ardent spirits. The slaves were happy in their -lot. Indeed, a writer in early eighteen hundred speaks of the town as -arcadian in its simplicity and kindliness to its dependents. Women never -worked in the fields, and much of the housework was done by the slaves -and Indian women. Holidays were frequent, in which all joined. In the -summer, out-of-doors sports and dances often took place, very much like -modern picnics, at which one frequently saw parties of Indians. There -were no hostelries; but if a stranger came in town he was sheltered and -treated to the best. Hospitality was considered one of the first duties. - -There was one large room in the log part of the house, but Denys -resolved to build another. His little girl should have a place of her -very own, and from time to time he would find adornments for it. Here -she should grow to womanhood. Antoine Freneau was not a young man when -he had married; and though people who did not meet with accidents lived -to a good old age, he was old already. He always pleaded poverty, though -he did considerable dickering in the way of trade, and it was surmised -that his business dealings would not stand honest scrutiny, and his -unsocial habits did not endear him to the joyous community. Still, -whatever he had left would come to Renee. He, Denys, would make sure of -that. - -Renee soon became domesticated with the Renauds. Elise and Sophie played -about most of the time, and were jolly, laughing little girls. Twice a -week they went to the house of the good Father Lemoine, who taught them -to read and write and gave them some knowledge of mathematics, which was -quite necessary in trading. Twice a week the boys went, and on Saturday -they repeated the catechism orally. - -Denys called in a little help; but every man was his own builder, with -some cordial neighborly assistance. So they raised the posts and -studding, and fastened the cross ties--round on the outside, the smooth -part, or middle, going on the inside. The interstices were filled with -mortar made of tough grass and clay that hardened easily. Sometimes this -was plastered on the inside, but oftener blankets were hung, which gave -a bright and cheerful appearance, and warmth in winter. - -The stone part was cleared up and put in order. It had a big chimney, -part of which was in the adjoining room. Denys spread about quantities -of sweet grass to neutralize the musty smell; though the clear, -beautiful air, with its mingled perfumes, was doing that. On the shelves -he spread some of his wares, implements of different sorts were ranged -about the walls. Near the door was a counter; back of it two iron-bound -chests, very much battered, that he had bought with the place and the -small store of goods from the family of the dead owner. These held his -choicest treasures, many of which he had brought from Quebec, which were -to please the ladies. - -The voyages up and down the river were often tedious, and sometimes the -traders were attacked by river pirates, who hid in caves along the banks -and drew their boats up out of sight when not needed. Peltries and lead -went down to New Orleans, wheat and corn and imported articles were -returned. There were some troublesome restrictions, and about as much -came overland from Detroit. - -If Renee made friends with the Renaud household, they had no power to -win her from Uncle Gaspard. They had insisted on his accepting their -hospitality, though he devoted most of his time to the work he was -hurrying forward. Now and then he came just at dusk and spent the night, -but was always off early in the morning before Renee was up. - -She often ran up the street, sometimes reaching the house before he -started. The children were ready enough to go with her, but she liked -best to be alone. She had a curious, exclusive feeling about him, young -as she was. - -"But he is not your true uncle," declared Elise, one day when she had -laid her claim rather strenuously. "Mamma said so. Your uncles have to -be real relations." - -"But he said when we were in Quebec that he _was_ my uncle--that I was to -be his little girl," was the defiant rejoinder. - -"And if your gran'pere had not agreed?" - -"I would never have stayed there. It makes me shiver now. I would--yes, I -would have run away." - -"He is not like our gran'pere, who is a lovely old man, living up by the -Government House. And gran'mere gives us delightful little cakes when we -go there. And there are uncles and aunts, real ones. Barbe is our aunt." - -Renee's small heart swelled with pride and a sense of desolation. She -had gathered already that Grandpapa Freneau was not at all respected; -and there were moments when she felt the solitariness of her life--the -impression that she had in some sense been cast off. - -"But my father is at the palace of the King of France. He came to see me -on an elegant horse, and his clothes were splendid. And there are two -little brothers. Oh, such fine people as there are in Paris." - -That extinguished the little girls. It was true that now the French had -gotten over their soreness about the transfer. They never meddled with -politics, but they still loved the old flag. The Spanish governors had -been judicious men thus far. - -So that night Renee slipped out from the supper table and sped like a -little sprite along the Rue Royale, and then up the Rue de Rive. The -moon was coming over the river with a pale light, as if she was not -quite ready for full burning. She heard the sounds of hammering, and -rushed in the open doorway. - -"Well, little one! Your eyes are so bright that if you were an Indian -girl I should call you Evening Star." - -"I wanted to see you so," in a breathless fashion. - -"What has happened?" - -"Why, nothing. Only the day seemed so long." - -"You went to the father's?" - -"Oh, yes," rather indifferently. - -"Why didn't you run over then? You might have taken supper with me." - -"Because--there were Elise and Sophie." - -"But there was supper enough to go round. We had some fine broiled fish. -Mere Lunde is an excellent cook." - -"Oh, when can I come to stay?" Her tone was full of entreaty, and her -eyes soft with emotion. - -"But--you won't have any little girls to play with." - -"I don't want any one but you." - -He had paused from his work, and now she sprang to him and encircled him -as far as she could with her small arms. - -"You are not homesick?" It would be strange, indeed, since she had never -had a true home. - -"I don't know. That," giving her head a turn, "is not my real home." - -"Oh, no. But they have all been good to you. Ma'm'selle Barbe is very -fond of you." - -"Oh, everybody is good and kind. Even Louis, though he teases. And Pere -Renaud. But not one of them is you--_you_." - -"My little girl!" He stooped over and hugged her, kissed her fondly. The -child's love was so innocent, so sincere, that it brought again the -hopes of youth. - -"And you will always keep me--always?" There was a catch in her breath -like a sob. - -"Why, yes. What has any one said to you?" with a slight touch of -indignation. - -"Sophie said you were not my own uncle. What would make you so? Can you -never be?" - -There was a pathos in her tone that touched him to the heart, even as he -smiled at her childish ignorance, and was wild to have the past undone. - -"My dear, you can hardly understand. I must have been your mother's -brother." - -"Oh, then you would have belonged to that hateful old man!" and she gave -her foot a quick stamp. "No, I should not want you to." - -He laughed softly. He would have been glad enough to belong to the -hateful old man years ago, and belong to the child as well. - -"It doesn't matter, little one," he said tenderly. "I shall be your -uncle all my life long. Don't bother your head about relationships. -Come, see your room. It will soon be dry, and then you shall take -possession." - -It had been whitewashed, and the puncheon floor--laid in most houses, it -being difficult to get flat boards--stained a pretty reddish color. The -window had a curtain hung to it, some of the Canadian stuff. One corner -had been partitioned off for a closet. There was a box with a curtain -tacked around it, and a white cover over it, to do duty as a -dressing-table. There were two rustic chairs, and some pretty Indian -basket-like pouches had been hung around. - -"Oh, oh!" she cried in delight. "Why, it is as pretty as Ma'm'selle -Barbe's--almost as pretty," correcting herself. "And can I not come at -once?" - -"There must be a bed for you to sleep on, though we might sling a -hammock." - -"And Mere Lunde?" - -"Come through and see." - -In one corner of this, which was the ordinary living room, was a sort of -pallet, a long box with a cover, in which Mere Lunde kept her own -belongings, with a mattress on the top, spread over with a blanket, -answering for a seat as well. She had despoiled her little cottage, for -Gaspard Denys had said, "It is a home for all the rest of your life if -you can be content," and she had called down the blessings of the good -God upon him. So, here were shelves with her dishes, some that her -mother had brought over to New Orleans as a bride; china and pewter, and -coarse earthenware acquired since, and queer Indian jars, and baskets -stiffened with a kind of clay that hardened in the heating. - -"Welcome, little one," she exclaimed cheerfully. "The good uncle gets -ready the little nest for thee. And soon we shall be a family indeed." - -She lighted a torch and stood it in the corner, and smiled upon Renee. - -"Oh, I shall be so glad to come!" cried the child joyfully. "And my room -is so pretty." - -She looked with eager eyes from one to the other. - -"And the garden is begun. There are vines planted by ma'm'selle's -window. In a month one will not know the place. And it is near to the -church and the good father's house." - -"But I wouldn't mind if it was a desert, so long as you both were here," -she replied enthusiastically. - -"We must go back, little one. They will wonder about you. Just be -patient awhile." - -"And thou hast no cap," said Mere Lunde. - -"Oh, that does not matter; the night is warm. Adieu," taking the hard -hand in her soft one. Then she danced away and caught Gaspard's arm. - -"Let us walk about a little," she pleaded. "The moon is so beautiful." -If they went direct to the Renauds', he would sit on the gallery and -talk to Barbe. - -"Which way?" pausing, looking up and down. - -"Oh, toward the river. The moon makes it look like a silver road. And it -is never still except at night." - -That was true enough. Business ended at the old-fashioned supper time. -There was one little French tavern far up the Rue Royale, near the -Locust Street of to-day; but the conviviality of friends, which was -mostly social, took place at home, out on the wide porches, where cards -were played for amusement. The Indians had dispersed. A few people were -strolling about, and some flat boats were moored at the dock, almost -indistinguishable in the shade. The river wound about with a slow, soft -lapping, every little crest and wavelet throwing up a sparkling gem and -then sweeping it as quickly away. - -From here one could see out to both ends. The semi-circular gates -terminated at the river's edge, and at each a cannon was planted and -kept in readiness for use. Now and then there would be vague rumors -about the English on the opposite shore. The new stockade of logs and -clay surmounted by pickets was slowly replacing the worn-out one. - -Renee was fain to linger, with her childish prattle and touching -gestures of devotion. How the child loved him already! That a faint tint -of jealousy had been kindled would have amused him if he had suspected -it. - -When they turned back in the Rue Royale they met M. Renaud enjoying his -pipe. - -"Ah, truant!" he exclaimed; "they were beginning to feel anxious about -you. Barbe declared you might stay all night. Was it not true you had -threatened?" - -"They would not have me," she returned laughingly, her heart in a glow -over the thought that when she did stay permanently, there would be no -need of Uncle Gaspard going to the Renauds'. - -"Was that it?" rather gayly. "The girls will miss thee. They are very -fond of thee, Renee de Longueville." - -Then Renee's heart relented with the quick compunction of childhood. - -"M. Laclede's fleet of keel boats will be up shortly, I heard to-day. -The town must give him a hearty welcome. What a man he is! What energy -and forethought! A little more than twenty years and we have grown to -this, where there was nothing but a wild. Denys, there is a man for -you!" - -"Fort Chartres helped it along. I was but a boy when we came over. My -mother is buried there, and it almost broke my father's heart to leave -her." - -"Those hated English!" said Renaud, almost under his breath. "The -colonies have revolted, it is said. I should be glad to see them driven -out of the country." - -"Yes, I heard the talk at Quebec and more of it as I came down the -lakes. But the country is so big, why cannot each take a piece in -content? Do you ever think we may be driven out to the wilderness?" - -"And find the true road to India?" with a short laugh. "Strange stories -are told by some of the hunters of inaccessible mountains. And what is -beyond no one knows," shrugging his shoulders. - -No one knew whether the gold-fields of La Salle's wild dreams lay in -that direction or not. There were vague speculations. Parties had -started and never returned. The hardy pioneers turned their steps -northward for furs. And many who heard these wild dreams in their youth, -half a century later crossed the well-nigh inaccessible mountains and -found the gold. And before the century was much older ships were on -their way to the East of dream and fable. - -Barbe and Madame Renaud were out on the porch in the moonlight, and it -was very bright now. Denys would not stay, and soon said good-night to -them, going back to his work by a pine torch. - -Renee counted the days, and every one seemed longer. But at last the -joyful news came. - -"We shall run over often," declared Sophie, who had a fondness for the -little girl in spite of childish tiffs. - -Renee was busy enough placing her little store of articles about, -discovering new treasures, running to and fro, and visiting Mere Lunde, -who had a word of welcome every time she came near. - -"It will be a different house, petite," she said, with her kindly smile. - -The garden could not compare with the Renauds in the glory of its gay -flower-beds. Two slaves of a neighbor--they were often borrowed for a -trifle--were working at it. A swing had been put up for the little lady. - -But somehow, when the afternoon began to lengthen, when Uncle Gaspard -had gone up to the Government House on some business, and Mere Lunde was -in a sound doze over the stocking she was knitting, Renee felt strangely -solitary. She missed the gay chat of Madame Renaud and her sister and -the merriment of the children. There seemed none immediately about here. -She strolled around to the front of the store; the door was locked, and -it looked rather dreary. - -She was glad to-morrow was the day for the classes to meet. Why, it was -almost as lonesome as at the old chateau! - -That evening Uncle Gaspard brought out his flute, which filled her with -delight. The violin was the great musical instrument in St. Louis--the -favorite in all the French settlements. But the flute had such a tender -tone, such a mysterious softness, that it filled her with an -indescribable joy. And there was none of the dreadful tuning that rasped -her nerves and made her feel as if she must scream. - -Then, it was strange to sleep alone in the room when she had been with -Ma'm'selle Barbe and the two girls. They were versed in Indian -traditions, and some they told over were not pleasant bed-time visions. -But the comfort was that all these terrible things had happened in -Michigan, or a place away off, called New England; and Sophie did not -care what the Indians did to the English who had driven them out of the -settlements on the Illinois. So, why should she? She was still more of a -French girl, because she was born in France. - -But the world looked bright and cheery the next morning, and the -breakfast was delightful, sitting on the side toward Uncle Gaspard, and -having Mere Lunde opposite, with her gay coif and her red plaid kerchief -instead of the dull gray one. Her small, wrinkled face was a pleasant -one, though her eyes were faded, for her teeth were still white and -even, and her short upper lip frequently betrayed them. She poured the -coffee and passed the small cakes of bread, which were quite as good as -Madame Renaud's. - -The lines were not strictly drawn in those days between masters and -servants. And Mere Lunde had been her own mistress for so many years -that she possessed the quiet dignity of independence. - -Then Renee inspected her room afresh, ran out of doors and gathered a -few flowers, as she had seen Ma'm'selle Barbe do. She ventured to peep -into Uncle Gaspard's abode. - -"Come in, come in!" he cried cheerily. "There is no one to buy you up, -like a bale of merchandise." - -"But--you wouldn't sell me?" Her eyes had a laughing light in them, her -voice a make-believe entreaty, and altogether she looked enchanting. - -"Well, it would take a great deal of something to buy you. It would have -to be more valuable than money. I don't care so much for money myself." - -He put his arm about her and hugged her up close. He was sitting at a -massive old desk that he had bought with the place. It seemed crowded -full of various articles. - -"But you love me better than any one else?" - -"Any one else? Does that mean ever so many people love you? The Renaud -children, and Ma'm'selle Barbe, and--perhaps--your grandfather?" - -"Oh, you know I don't mean that!" Her cheek flushed with a dainty bit of -vexation. "The others _like_ me well enough, but you--how much do you -love me?" - -"The best of any one. Child, I do not think you will ever understand how -dear you are to me. There is no measurement for such love." - -That was the confession she wanted. Her face was radiant with delight--a -child's pleasure in the present satisfaction. - -She glanced around. "Do you mean to sell all these things?" she asked -wonderingly. - -"Oh, yes and many more. I ought to be down on the Rue Royale, where -people could find me easily. But I took a fancy to this old place, and -the man was in my debt; so he paid me with it. It would not be so -pleasant to live down there, on the lower side, by the levee. But I -shall stay here and wait till the people come to me. After all, for a -few years, if we get enough to eat and a little to wear, it will -suffice." - -"And what then?" with captivating eagerness. - -"Why, then--" he hesitated. Why should he think of this just now? He did -not want her grown up into a charming mademoiselle, even if she -resembled her mother still more strongly. - -"Yes; what then? Isn't it just the same afterward, or do people come to -a time when they stop eating?" and a gleam of mischief crossed her face. - -"That is at the end of life, child--sixty or eighty years." - -"No, I don't mean that time," with a shrug and a little curl of the lip. -"Maybe--after a few years----" - -"Well?" in amused inquiry. - -"You might go to New Orleans and take me. Ma'm'selle Barbe has been, and -she says it is so beautiful and gay." - -"And you have been half over the world. Ma'm'selle has not been to -Quebec nor Detroit." - -"Oh, that is true enough," laughingly. "Nor to France." - -Two customers paused at the door, and he said, "Run away, dear." So she -went obediently, watched Mere Lunde at her work awhile, then strolled -out to the garden spot, where two hired slaves were working. What should -make them so different from white people? Where was Africa and the -Guinea Coast that she heard spoken of at the Renauds'? Their lips were -so thick and red and their hair so woolly. But they seemed very merry, -though she could not understand a word they said; it was a queer patois. - -Uncle Gaspard came out presently. "Wouldn't you like to have a flower -garden?" he asked. - -"What is here?" She put out her small moccasined toe toward a rather -stiff-looking plot of green plants. - -"Oh, that is Mere Lunde's garden of herbs. All manner of things for -potage, and the making of sundry remedies in which she has great faith. -She will look after that." - -"And must I look after mine?" - -"I will come and help you." - -"Oh, then, I will have a garden!" she cried joyfully. - - - - -CHAPTER IV - -THE SOWING OF A THORN - - -It was only a short distance to the priest's house, where the classes -met. She ran off by herself. There was quite a throng of girls, though, -as with most of the early Western settlers, education was not esteemed -the one thing needful for girls. To make good wives was the greatest -attainment they could achieve. Still, Father Lemoine labored with -perseverance at the tillage of their brains on the two afternoons, and -the tillage of their souls on Saturday. - -After the two hours were over the restless children had a run up to the -Fort. The Guions there were Madame Renaud's relatives. There was a great -thicket of roses that covered the line of palings, and some ladies were -having refreshments under a sort of arbor, little cakes and glasses of -wine much diluted with water. - -"Oh, yes, come in," exclaimed Sophie as Renee hung back. "You have been -here before, you needn't feel strange." - -That was true enough. Then she had been Sophie's guest. Now she had a -curious hesitation. - -Elise was going around courtesying to the ladies, and answering their -inquiries. Sophie stooped to play with the cat. An old lady nearest -Renee handed her a plate of small spiced cakes. - -"You have gone to Monsieur Denys," she said in a soft tone. "He is--" -raising her eyes in inquiry. - -"He is my uncle." Renee made a graceful little courtesy as she said -this, and thanked the lady for the cake. - -"I suppose M. Denys means to settle down now," said another. "It is high -time. He ought to marry. There is nothing like a good wife." - -"That will come along," and another nodded with a mysterious but merry -smile. "That is why he is smartening up so. And he has brought some -elegant stuffs from Canada to dress her in when he gets her. Madame -Aubrey was in yesterday and bought of him a gown for Genevieve. He was -showing her some finery that would adorn a bride. I think we shall hear -before long." - -They all nodded and glanced sidewise from Elise to Sophie as if they -might have something to do with it. - -"I must go," exclaimed Renee, her face flushing. - -"No, wait, I am not ready," said Sophie. - -But Renee courtesied to them all and flashed through the rose-hung -entrance. She ran swiftly down the street, turned the corner to her own -home, and entered the gate. Mere Lunde sat at the doorway knitting. - -"Where is Uncle Gaspard?" she cried breathlessly. - -"In the shop chaffering. They have found him out, you see, and I hope -the good Father of all will send him prosperity," crossing herself -devoutly. - -Renee dropped down on the doorstep. Her child's heart was in a tumult. -Had not the house been planned for her, and the pretty room made -especially? Where would he put a wife? His small place in the corner of -the shop, hung about with curtains, was not fit, since the wife would be -Ma'm'selle Barbe, whose pretty white bed had fringed hangings that she -had learned to knot while she was in New Orleans. - -"Why do you sigh so, little one?" - -Renee could not contain her anxiety. - -"O ma mere, do you think Uncle Gaspard will marry?" she cried with -passionate vehemence. "Will he bring a wife here to live with us?" - -"What has put such a thing in thy head, child? Surely the good priest -would not venture to suggest that to thee!" - -"It was in the Guions' garden. I went there with the girls. And some one -said he had fixed the house for that, and they smiled and I knew who -they meant." - -She wiped some tears from her hot cheek. - -"Who was it?" the dame asked simply. - -"Who should it be but Ma'm'selle Barbe! Oh, I could guess who they -thought would come." - -"Ma'm'selle is a pretty girl and sweet tempered. She has a dot, too," -said the placid woman. "But then I think----" - -Renee burst into a passion of tears, and springing up stamped on the -ground. - -"She shall not come here!" she cried vehemently. "She shall not have -Uncle Gaspard! Oh, why did he go clear to Canada for me, why did he -bring me here?" - -"There was your gran'pere----" - -"But he doesn't want me. No one wants me!" - -"Chut! chut! little one. Do not get in such a passion. Surely a child -could not help it if it was to be so. But now that I think the matter -over, he said I must come, as there would be no one here to look after -you, and that your gran'pere's was no place for you. Truly, it is not, -if the whispers about him are well grounded. It is said the river -pirates gather there. And he goes away for weeks at a time. No, I do not -believe M. Denys means to marry." - -"Oh, truly? truly?" Renee flung her arms about the woman's neck. "Say -again you do not believe it." - -Every pulse was throbbing, and her breath came in tangled gasps. The -woman's tranquillity rasped her. - -"Nay, he would have planned different. And Ma'm'selle Barbe has young -admirers. Ah, you should have seen her at Christmas and Epiphany! She -was chosen Queen, she had one of the lucky beans. She would hardly want -so grave a man. All young things love pleasure, and it is right; care -comes fast enough." - -And now Renee remembered that a young man had spent evenings with his -violin, and they two had sat out on the gallery. But she could not -divest her mind of the curious sort of suspicion that Barbe cared very -much for Uncle Gaspard. - -"No, no," went on Mere Lunde. "People gossip. They often mate two who -have no such intention. Dry thy eyes, petite, and laugh again. There has -a robin built in the beech near thy window, and now I think there are -young ones in the nest. I heard them cry for food. And the father bird -goes singing about as if he wanted to tell the news. It is pleasanter -than thine." - -Renee smiled then. Yes, if the young man loved, ma'm'selle. How they had -laughed and talked. Perhaps--and yet she was not quite satisfied. - -But she went out and glanced up at the tree. Yes, there was a nest, and -a funny, peeping sound, a rustle in the branches. - -The path had been packed clear down to the gate. Some garden beds were -laid out, and the neglected grass trimmed up. It began to look quite -pretty. If there was something to do, to keep away thoughts. - -"Mere Lunde, will you teach me to knit?" she asked suddenly. - -"And sew, child. A woman needs that." - -"I can sew a little. But I have nothing to sew." - -"That will be provided if you wish for it. I think your uncle will be -glad. I have heard that where there are holy Sisters they teach girls, -but we have none here. And now you may help me get the supper." - -That tended to divert her troubled thoughts. And then Uncle Gaspard came -in with a guest and the meal was a very merry one. Afterward the two sat -over the desk busy with writing and talking until she was sleepy and -went to bed. - -She studied Uncle Gaspard furtively the next morning. He asked about the -school, and said in the afternoon they would take a walk, and this -morning she had better go to market with Mere Lunde. - -She found that quite an entertainment. The old market was not much, a -little square with some stalls, all kept by old women, it seemed. One -had cakes, the _croquecignolles_, the great favorite with everybody. A -curious kind of dry candied fruit, and a sausage roll that the men and -boys from the levees bought and devoured with hearty relish. Then there -was a stall of meats and a portly butcher in a great white gown. Some of -the stands were there only two or three days in the week. Most of the -inhabitants looked out for their own stores, but there were the boatmen -and the fur traders, and the _voyageurs_. There was but one bake shop, -so the market stall was well patronized. - -Some one called to Renee as she neared her own corner, and she turned. -It was a little girl she had seen in the class at the priest's house. - -"I am glad you have come here to live," she began. "Your name is Renee -de Long----" - -"Renee de Longueville," with a touch of formality. - -"And mine is Rosalie Pichou. I live just down in the street below. I -have five brothers and not one sister. How many have you?" - -"None at all." - -"Oh, I shouldn't like that. And I am always wishing for a sister. But -one of my brothers will be married shortly, only he is not coming home -to live." - -"Do you like him to marry?" - -"Oh, yes, we shall have a gay time and a feast. And then there will be -the new house to visit. Andre is just twenty-one, Pierre is eighteen, -Jules sixteen, and I am twelve. I am larger and older than you." - -They had walked up to the gate. Mere Lunde stood by it. "Will you not -come in and see Renee?" she asked, on the child's behalf. - -"Oh, yes," was the frank answer. "I came to see the new room when M. -Denys was building it. Oh, how pretty you have it!" in an almost envious -tone. - -"But then you can have all. At home, there are two little boys to -provide for, and I think boys are always hungry. Jules gets lots of -game, he is such a good shot. Oh, I have such a pretty cat and a kitten. -I wonder if you would like the kitten?" - -"Oh, yes," said Mere Lunde. "A cat is a comfortable creature to have -about, and a kitten full of play, merci! One never tires of her pranks. -You will like it, Renee?" - -The child's eyes shone with delight. - -"And your mother will let you bestow it?" the mere asked tentatively. - -"Oh, yes. You see, there are two dogs and a tame squirrel, and Jules is -always bringing home something. Ma mere scolds about it. And Jules is -afraid the kitten may get at his birds. Oh, yes, you can have it without -doubt. I'll run and fetch it now." - -Rosalie was back before she had time to go even one way, Renee thought. -A beautiful striped gray kitten, with a very cunning face. A fine black -stripe went from the outer corner of the eyes to his ears, and gave him -the appearance of wearing spectacles, which amused Renee very much. Then -they talked about the class. - -"I hate to study," declared Rosalie. "And reading is such slow work when -you don't understand. But it is beginning to be the fashion, ma mere -says, and presently people will be despised if they do not know how to -read. I like the sums best. You can say them after the Father and not -bother your brains. And that's why I don't mind the catechism. It isn't -like picking the words out of a page." - -"I can read quite well," said Renee, with a little pride. "And I like -it." - -"I can make netting and knit stockings and am learning to cook. Oh, I -must go home at once and help ma mere with the dinner. She told me not -to stay, and that I was to ask you to visit me. Come soon," and she made -a pretty gesture of farewell. - -Renee picked up the kitten. It was very tame, and made believe bite her -hand. Then it gave a sudden spring. - -"Oh, it will run away!" cried Renee in alarm. - -But one of the men in the garden caught it and gave it back to her. - -"Let us make him eat something. Then he will wash his face and stay. And -he will be excellent to catch mice in the shop. They destroy the skins -so." - -The kitten enjoyed a bit of meat. Then he sat down very gravely and -washed his face, which made Renee laugh. - -Uncle Gaspard came home and expressed himself delighted with the kitten. -He was fond of cats, and had been thinking of one. They had their -dinner, and he said he knew the Pichous very well, and was glad Renee -had a playmate so near. - -Presently they went out for their walk. Already Denys had explained to -Mere Lunde the prices of some of the ordinary articles, and where the -powder and shot were kept, so that she might provide for a casual -customer. But being a little out of the way, trade was not likely to be -very brisk. - -They went up the Rue de la Place and out at the side of the fort. There -were no houses save here and there a few wigwams, and Indian children -playing about in the front of them. Cultivated fields stretched out. The -King's Highway marked the western limit of the municipality; all the -rest was the King's domain, to be granted to future settlers. There was -the wide prairie, and to the northward the great mound. They mounted -this, and then they could see up the winding of the river to the chain -of rocks, and the Missouri on its way to join the greater stream and be -merged in it. Farther still, vague woodlands, until all was lost in dim -outlines and seemed resting against the sky. - -Gaspard Denys liked this far view. Sometimes he had thought of coming -out here and losing himself in the wilds, turning hunter like Blanchette -Chasseur, as a famous hunting friend of Pierre Laclede's was called. -North of the Missouri he had built a log cabin for himself, where any -hunter or traveller was welcome to share his hospitality. Denys himself -had partaken of it. - -Now he wondered a little if he had been wise to choose the child -instead, and give up his freedom. Blanchette had also established a post -at Les Pettites Cotes, which was the headquarters for many rovers, and -became the nucleus of another city. He was fond of adventures. - -But if he, Denys, had married, as he had once dreamed! Then he would -have given up the wild life long ago. Then there would have been home -and love. - -"O Uncle Gaspard," Renee cried, "you squeeze my hand so tight. And you -walk so fast." - -He paused suddenly and gazed down in the flushed face, the eyes humid -under their curling lashes. - -"My little dear!" and his heart smote him. "Let us sit down here in the -shade of this clump of trees and rest. You see, I never had a little -girl before, and forgot that she could not stride with my long legs." - -"And I am so thirsty." - -He glanced about. "We are only going a little farther," he said, "and -then we shall find a splendid spring and something to eat. Are you very -tired?" - -She drew a long breath and held up her little red hand. - -"Poor hand!" he said tenderly, pressing it to his lips. "Poor little -hand!" - -She leaned her head down on his shoulder. - -"You wouldn't like to have me go away?" she murmured plaintively. - -"Go away?" in surprise. "What put such an idea in your head?" - -"You wouldn't send me?" - -Strange these thoughts should find entrance in her mind when he had just -asked himself that curious question so akin to it. - -"What do you mean, little one?" - -"If--if you married--some one--who did not want me," in so desolate a tone -that it gave him a pang. - -"But I am not going to marry any one." - -"Are you very, very sure?" with an indrawn breath. - -He took her face between his hands suddenly and turned it upward. It was -scarlet and tears beaded the long lashes. - -"Come," he said in soft persuasion, "what is behind all this? Who has -been talking to you? If it is Mere Lunde----" - -"No--she said it was not true." - -"Surely that little Pichou girl is not a mischief maker! If so, she must -keep clear of us. I will not have you tormented." - -Then Renee began to cry softly and the truth came out with sobs. - -He smiled, and yet he was deeply touched. The little thing was jealous. -Yet was it not true that he was all she had in the world to love, and -that no one had really loved her until he came into her life? How she -had trusted him back there in Quebec after the first few hours! - -Now he gathered her up in his arms as if she been a baby, and kissed the -small hot face, tasting the salt tears. - -"Little one," he began in a tender, comforting tone, "set your heart at -rest. If the good God spares us, there will be many pleasant years -together, I hope. I am not going to marry any one, and Ma'm'selle Barbe -has a fine young admirer. She doesn't want an old fellow like me. You -can't understand now, but when you are older I will tell you the whole -story. I loved your mother and your grandfather took her away, married -her to some one else. That is why you are so dear to me." - -"Oh!" she cried, with a depth of feeling that surprised him. "Oh!" Then -she dropped down on her knees and put her arms about his neck, and he -could feel her heart beat against his breast. He was immeasurably -impressed. Could she understand what that meant? - -When he raised her face it was sweet and grave as that of an older -person might have been. Then she said softly. "I shall love you my whole -life long. I shall never love any one so dearly." - -How did she who had never had any one to love understand affection so -well? Perhaps because it is natural to the sex to own something it can -adore, and yet the little Renaud girls liked him very much, but there -was no such absorption in their regard. Ah, he was her all. They had the -natural ties of childhood on which to lavish their love. Barbe--he had -never thought of marrying her, though he had seen her grow up to -womanhood, and very charming at that. She was for some younger mate, and -there were plenty of them. Pretty girls, nor scarcely any girls, went -begging in the new countries. They were tempting enough without much -_dot_. - -And that her little heart should be torn by jealousy! He could have -smiled, only it seemed pitiful. He pressed her closer, sorry any -innuendoes should have been made before her. - -"Come, dear," he began tenderly, "we have not finished our walk. Or will -I have to carry you?" - -She sprang up lightly, her face all abloom, though her long lashes still -glistened. - -"Oh, no, no," smilingly. "But you have carried me--over part of the long -portage when I was so tired, and that night when it was dark. Oh, how -big and strong you are. There was some one in a book in the old -chateau--I have nearly forgotten, who was strong and brave. Uncle -Gaspard, why haven't you any books? The little ones at the Father's are -so queer, with their short sentences, and the children blunder so. I -like best to know about some person. Oh, can't we all tell that the dog -barks and the kitten mews, the cock crows, without reading it in a -primer! And--I would like to have a prayer book of my very own." - -"I think I have one somewhere about. But I will send to New Orleans for -some books the next time the boats go down. People have not had much -time for learning thus far." - -"And I had nothing to do in the old chateau but play and read. There was -no one to play with," sadly. "How funny that little girl was who brought -me the kitten! Five brothers! Well, I have two at home, in Paris, I -mean, but I never saw them only once. Rosalie! Isn't it a pretty name? I -wonder if you would like me to be called anything else?" - -"No, dear. You are a queen, my little queen. I don't want you changed in -any way. I only want you to be happy and content." - -She was so thoroughly rested now that although she gave little skips -occasionally and held his hand tightly, her heart seemed as light as the -birds flying overhead. And now they were coming to a small Indian -settlement, with a few wigwams, and long stretches of corn up high -enough to make a beautiful waving green sea as the wind moved it in -undulating billows. Women were cooking out of doors on little stone -fireplaces. Children played about; two small papooses hung up to a tree -branch were rocking to and fro. In the sun lay two braves asleep, too -lazy to hunt or fish. Yet it was a pretty picture. - -The tepees were in a semi-circular form. Denys passed the first one. At -the second a woman sat beside the flap doing some beautiful bead and -feather work. She raised her eyes and then sprang up with a glad smile, -holding her work in a sort of apron. - -"It is M'sieu Denys," in broken French, that sounded soft for an Indian -voice. "He has come back. He has taken a long journey to the Far East." -She glanced curiously at the stranger. - -"And brought home a little girl," smiling at the child. "She has come -from the land of the great Onontio, and I am to care for her. I am not -going to rove about any more, but trade with the residents and send -goods up and down the river. And I shall want many articles of you, -Mattawissa." - -She smiled and nodded. "I make not much for trade, but sometimes the -hunters buy for their sweethearts as they return. And will you trade -beads and silks? The threads we make are so troublesome to dye, and -sometimes the color is rough, not pretty," with a shrug. "I have heard -it comes up from the great city down below." - -"New Orleans. Yes. But I brought it with me from Canada. They use it in -the convents, where they do fine work. And the Spanish often take it -home to show, and ornament their houses for the strangeness of it, and -moccasins and bands, and the pretty things for real service. No one -makes them quite as well as you." - -"Will not the child sit down?" She brought a bag stuffed with grass, -much like the more modern hassock. Renee thanked her, and seated -herself. - -Mattawissa was proud of her French, and lame as it was, brought it out -on every occasion when talking to the white people. Denys had a -smattering of several Indian tongues, which most of the fur hunters and -traders soon acquired. - -Some of the little children of the forest crept up cautiously. Men they -were used to seeing; white women rarely, as those at a distance seldom -went into the settlements in their early youth. They were not strange to -Renee, and she smiled a little, but they retained their natural gravity -and evinced no disposition to make friends. - -Then Renee's attention was directed to the articles Mattawissa brought -out. Beautiful strips of wampum, collars ornamented with bits of shells -hanging by threads that made a soft, rhythmic sound as they were handled -about, bits of deerskin that were like velvet, on which she had traced -out delicate fancies that were really fascinating. Denys grew -enthusiastic over them, and begged them all. - -"This is for Talequah, the daughter of the Sioux who marries the son of -a chief before the moon of roses ends. I cannot part with that. But I -want beads, and if I could come in and choose?" inquiringly. - -"Oh, yes, come in by all means," Denys answered quickly. "I want to send -down the river--in a fortnight perhaps, and will take whatever you can -spare. You shall look over my store and select." - -"To-morrow if you like," hesitatingly. - -"Yes, the sooner the better." - -"I will bring these." - -"No, I will take them. It is not a heavy load," with a pleasant smile. -"And surely I am as able as you to carry the parcel. Then I am not a -brave. A trapper is used to waiting on himself." - -"But--I have something for the child." - -"O Renee, you will like that. Ma'm'selle is getting her chamber -furnished." - -"And you must eat." She went in the wigwam and returned with a red -earthen bowl decorated on the outside with a good deal of taste, not -unlike Egyptian pottery, the yellow edge so burned in and rubbed by some -process that it suggested dull gold burnished. Also a dainty boat made -of birch bark embroidered and beaded, with compartments inside for -trinkets, or it could be used for a work-box. - -"Oh, how very pretty! Uncle Gaspard, I can keep the boat on my table, -and the bowl on the little shelf you put up. And I shall fill it with -flowers. Madame, I thank you with all my heart. I know it is because you -like Uncle Gaspard so well, for an hour ago you did not know of me;" and -she pressed the Indian woman's hand. - -"I am glad it pleases you. I may find some other article. And now be -seated again. There is a long walk before you, and you must have -something to eat." - -She went out to the old woman bending over her preparations, and brought -for each a bowl of sagamity, a common Indian repast, oftener cooked with -fish than bits of pork; and a plate of cakes made of Indian corn pounded -fine in a rude mortar, or sometimes ground with one stone on top of -another. For though there were mills that ground both corn and wheat, -the Indians kept to their primitive methods. What did it matter so long -as there were squaws to do the work? - -Renee did not like the sagamity, but the cakes were good and the birch -beer was fine she thought. In spite of protest she insisted on carrying -her treasures home. - -Then Mattawissa wove a few strands of grass together, and bringing the -four ends up over the bowl knotted them into a bunch and made a kind of -basket. A piece of bark was slipped under the joining and this wound -around with a bit of deerskin so that it would not cut the fingers. -Renee watched the process with much interest, and thought it very -ingenious. - -Then they started homeward quite fresh from their long rest, but at the -last they had to hurry a little lest the gate at the fort should be -closed. - - - - -CHAPTER V - -WITH A TOUCH OF SORROW - - -The boats were coming up the river, a long line slow moving, and not -with the usual shouts and songs. Half the town turned out to welcome -them. Along the edge of the levee in the old days stretched a -considerable bluff, washed and worn away long ago to the level of Market -and Chestnut Streets. From here you had much of the river both up and -down in clear sight. - -It was thronged with men now in motley array, smoking their short pipes, -exchanging a bit of badinage and telling each other what treasures they -expected. For a few weeks there would be a rush of business until the -boats were loaded again and everything dropped back to the olden -inertia. There would be plenty of frolics too and a great warm welcome -for Pierre Laclede. - -A canoe was coming up swiftly, and yet there was no sign of gladness on -the boats, no flags flying gayly. - -"What does it all mean?" said some one perplexed. - -The canoe was steered slowly, touched the rude wharf, and the cheer died -in the throats of the throng. - -"It is bad news we bring. Monsieur Laclede is not with us. M. Pierre -Chouteau is heartbroken. Where is the colonel?" and the boat swung -round. - -"Here, here," and the tall, soldierly man sprang down the steps. "What -is it? What has happened to my brother?" and his tone was freighted with -anxiety. - -"Nothing to him but sorrow, Monsieur le Colonel. But our brave and true -friend, our great man and leader in everything, M. Laclede, is lost to -us forever. Monsieur, he is dead." - -The sailor bowed reverently. Colonel Chouteau clasped his hands -together. - -"Dead! dead! Our beloved M. Laclede." It ran through the crowd like a -knell. - -A great wave of sorrow swept over St. Louis. True, the boats came in and -there was bustle and business enough unloading. Some of them were to go -farther up, but they paused in a reverent fashion. The merriment of -welcome was hushed in reverent sadness. The little bell began to toll, -the steps so eager a moment ago were slow enough now. Every one felt he -had lost a friend. - -"But when and how did this happen?" asked Colonel Chouteau, dazed by the -unexpected sorrow, and still incredulous. - -The captain of one of the boats on which indeed Pierre Laclede had taken -his passage, stepped to the wharf and made a salute with his hand. Every -one crowded around to hear the story. - -It was melancholy enough and moved more than one to tears. M. Laclede -had not been altogether well on leaving New Orleans, and was trusting to -the exhilarating air of his loved town to restore him. But fever set in -and he had grown rapidly worse. It was a long and tedious journey in -those days, and medical lore was at a low ebb. Before they had reached -the Arkansas River the brave soul had yielded up his life, still in the -prime of a splendid manhood, not even attaining the privilege of -sepulture in the town of his heart, for which he had worked and planned -with a wisdom that was to remain long years afterward, like the -fragrance of a high, unwearied soul. - -They gathered in groups relating this and that to his praise. He had -founded the town, his busy brain and far-reaching wisdom had seen and -seized upon the points possible for a great _entrepot_ of trade. And in -the years to come his wildest dreams would be more than realized, though -the faint-hearted ones feared now that everything would stop. - -Renee was aroused to a great interest in the tales of the intrepid -explorers. Sitting in the door in the soft darkness, for now the moon -did not rise until past midnight, she lingered, listening with a child's -eagerness to whom something new and wonderful is related, and Denys -telling adventures that even now moved him deeply. De Soto marching with -his little band across the Continent, suffering from perfidy and mutiny, -resolved to find a westward passage and the gold that had rewarded other -explorers in South America, and at last ill and wearied out, giving up -his life, and at night pushing off on the longer journey where friendly -hands rowed out silently as if to some unknown country, and softly -dropped their burden in the river, partly it is said because they did -not want the Indians to know that he was mortal and could die. - -Marquette and Joliet, brave heroes of a faith they wished to establish -everywhere, La Salle with his indomitable courage, being deserted and -with but one guide pushing through dangers, then going to France to seek -aid from the great king, convinced now that the Mississippi River was -not a waterway to the western coast as some had predicted, but would -open up a great river route to the Gulf of Mexico. There were wild -guesses in those days. But this proved true. In the name of Louis XIV. -he took possession of this splendid estate, that rendered France the -greatest proprietor of the new country. Not content with all this glory -he must essay another dangerous trip and lose his life by a perfidious -follower. - -Men made histories in those days and had but little time to write them. -Priests' journals and letters were to translate them later on. But -stories and legends were told over, passed down in families, and -treasured as sacred belongings. - -Renee was deeply interested. The heroism stirred her. Nearly every story -she wound in some way about Uncle Gaspard. It seemed as if he must have -sailed in every boat, trudged through wildernesses, even explored the -old cave with its shining walls and sides of lead that they mistook -first for silver; and after getting over his disappointment how Sieur -Renault opened the grand Valle mine that seems inexhaustible even -to-day. Gaspard had a wonderful way of making all these old heroes live -in the flesh again. - -Renee was a very happy little girl now. It was quite true that -Ma'm'selle Barbe had a lover, a handsome young fellow who was devoted, -who came every night with his violin, and when he did not play sang -charming French love songs. The Guions would much rather have had it -Gaspard Denys. He was "settled." And then he was a shrewd business -fellow and would be sure to make a fortune. Already he was acquiring a -good trade. Alphonse Maurice had no business of his very own, and was -barely twenty-one. But youthful marriages were very much in vogue in -those days, and most of them were happy. Life was so much more simple. - -Madame Renaud had a great leaning toward Gaspard as well. But what could -one do if he would not come, would not play the lover? She would have -laughed at the idea of the little Renee in any sense being a rival. - -The child had settled to a happy round. She went to the classes, but she -could read very well, and Gaspard had a way of explaining figures to -her. There was the business, too, that she was taking a great interest -in, and this amused him very much. - -Her kitten grew and was a great pet. There was a flower garden, though -wild flowers grew all about and there were wild berries in profusion. -She often went with Mere Lunde to gather them, sometimes with parties of -children. She learned little housewifely tricks as well. When she found -Mere Lunde had no end of memories and legends tucked under her cap, she -often made the gentle old body bring them out, when Uncle Gaspard had to -spend his evenings talking to the men. - -She rather liked the Saturday lesson, though she soon had it all by -heart. And she was quite a devout little church-goer. She had been very -much impressed when Father Gibault, the vicar general, came up and -delivered a funeral oration for Monsieur Pierre Laclede. - -Meanwhile the Chouteau brothers stepped into M. Laclede's business. -Colonel Auguste Chouteau had been his lieutenant and right-hand man for -years. He was very proud of the town, too, and resolved to improve the -old Laclede house and make it quite a centre. - -There was a new governor as well. Why a mild and judicious ruler like -Francisco Cruzat should have been superseded by an avaricious, -feeble-minded Spaniard, who was half the time incapable from drink, no -one could explain. - -Meanwhile some larger questions were coming to the fore that caused -great uneasiness. There was war between the American colonies and the -British, who had conquered a part of Canada. Spain avowed her sympathy -with the colonies. The Indians of the great northwest had affiliated -with the British. Then an American, Colonel Rogers Clark, had captured -the British posts at Cahokia and Kaskaskia, but afterward gone to -Vincennes. - -Colonel Chouteau argued that the town should be put in a state of -defence. The new palisades had not been finished. This was pushed -forward now, the wall strengthened with logs and clay, and in some -places rebuilt. The old cannon was replaced with new, and the gates made -more secure. The governor even in his sober moments laughed at these -precautions. - -Sometimes on a Sunday or holiday Gaspard Denys took Renee to visit her -grandfather. He made no effort to claim her. Indeed, he was away a good -deal, and then his cabin was locked up. - -Over beyond at the southern end was the great Chouteau pond, almost a -lake where the mill was situated, then a kind of creek winding about and -another lovely spot, broadening out, turning around again, and ending in -a long point. Young people and older ones too went out to row, taking -their dinner in picnic fashion. They were always full of pleasure, these -merry French. - -Christmas had delighted Renee, and brought a disappointment as well. It -was a great season in old St. Louis. At twelve o'clock every one who -possibly could went to midnight mass and the little church was crowded. -The people were already outgrowing it. Father Meurin had come up from -other visitations, there was good old white-haired Father Savigne, who -had been a missionary to the Indians and several times barely escaped -with his life. Father Valentine taught the children and was much -younger. - -The altar was decorated and illuminated with candles in front of the -Virgin Mother and her baby Son. The solemn yet lovely sound of the -Gregorian chants made waves of music through the chapel and stirred -every heart. There was the solemn consecration, the kneeling, adoring -multitude, the heartfelt responses. - -They might not have understood the intricate, hair-splitting truths of -to-day, and many no doubt came far short of the divine precepts, but -they did worship with all their hearts and souls. And when the priest -rang the bell on the hour of midnight it touched them all with deep -reverence; and they were glad to join in the hymn, and the benediction -descended like a blessing. - -Ah, how beautiful it was out of doors! There was no moon, but myriad -stars gleamed and glowed, and it seemed as if they were touched with all -faint, delicate colors. The ground was white with snow, the peaked roofs -were spires, and the river a dark, winding valley. - -Outside the church everybody shook hands and gave good wishes. Children -and old people were all together. No one would have missed the mass. But -now they chatted gayly and talked of the coming day, the young men -loitering to capture some pretty girl and walk home with her. - -Mere Lunde stirred the fire and Denys put a great log on it, and on his -own in the shop. The little girl's window was hung with a fur curtain, -for occasionally the wind found chinks to whistle through as it came -from the great prairies beyond and brought the sound of writhing and -sometimes crushed forests. But all was warmth within. Mere Lunde made a -hot drink with wine and spices, and brought out her Christmas cake which -she had not meant to cut until to-morrow. - -"But see, it is to-morrow already," she said with her cheery laugh. She -had devoted several prayers for her poor son's soul and she was quite -sure he was safe with the Blessed Virgin and now understood what -heavenly life was like. - -"It was all so beautiful," Renee said with a long breath of delight. -"And the singing! I can hear it yet in the air." - -"Thou must to bed, little one, for to-morrow will be a gay day," said -Gaspard, kissing her. "Mere, see that she is well tucked in, for the -night is cold." - -Alas! for all the precaution the little girl woke up with a strange hot -feeling in her throat, and her head was heavy and seemed twice as large -as ordinary. She tried to raise it, but everything in the room swam -round. She gave a faint cry, but no one heard, for Mere Lunde was busy -among pans and pots. - -"Come, little laggard!" cried a cheery voice. "The children are here -with their etrennes." - -These were little cakes with dried fruit dipped in maple syrup and thus -coated over. The children carried them about to each other on Christmas -morning. - -The only answer was a low moan. Uncle Gaspard leaned over the small bed. - -"Renee, Renee, what is it?" He raised her in his arms and was startled -at her flushed face, her dulled eyes, her hot hands. - -"O mere," he cried. "Come, the little one is very ill." - -They looked at her, but she did not seem to know them, and moaned -pitifully. "Something must be done. She has taken cold, I think, and has -a hot fever." - -Very few people called in a doctor in those days. Indeed, it would have -been difficult to find him this morning. There were many excellent -home-made remedies that all housewives put up in the autumn, compounded -of roots and barks, some of them learned from the Indian women. - -"Poor child, poor _petite_, yes, she must be attended to at once. Get -thy breakfast, m'sieu, while I make some comfort and aid for her. Yes, -it is a fever." - -"But what shall I do for her?" - -"Get me some ears of corn, good big ones." - -"And leave her?" aghast at the thought. - -"Thou wilt not cure her by staring at her. She can take no harm for a -few moments." - -There was always a big kettle standing on the coals with four short legs -holding it up. Mere Lunde raked out the ashes and pushed the flaming -brands under it. Gaspard exhumed an armful of corn from a big box in the -shop. - -"Drop them in," she said. "A dozen or so." - -"Oh, yes, I know now." He nodded in a satisfied fashion, for he had -faith in the remedy. - -Soon the water bubbled up and the fragrance of the steaming corn -diffused itself about the room. Mere Lunde went to the bed and put a -thick blanket under the child. Then the ears were laid about her and she -was rolled up like a mummy. The woman raised her head a trifle and -forced a potion down her throat that almost strangled her. Spreading -blankets over her, she tucked her in securely, and, patting the top one, -meant for love to the child, she turned away. - -"Well people must eat for strength, and Christmas day is no time for -fasting. Come." - -But Gaspard Denys was in no mood for eating. He had never thought of -Renee being ill. He knew of some children who had died, and there was -Monsieur Laclede who looked strong enough to live to a hundred years, -who had gone out of life with a fever. Oh, he could not give up his -little girl! - -"Is that all?" he asked presently. - -Mere Lunde understood. - -"There's no use running in and out like the mill stream, for it's the -flour that is getting ground," she said sententiously. "Wait a bit." - -He had large patience with most events of life, but here was breathless -with suspense. If she had been drooping for days, but she was so merry -last night. - -Rosalie came to the door. The children were going to Chouteau pond to -skate and slide. Would not Renee join them? - -"Alas! Renee was very ill." - -"But she must get better by to-morrow," nodding hopefully and laughing. - -After that Grandpere Freneau came up, which startled Gaspard, for he had -never deigned to visit his grandchild. He was sober and comparatively -well dressed, and had a little gift for her, a curious inlaid box, with -a trinket a girl might like. She would be well again in a few days. -Children were tough and sturdy, it was the old people who had to think -about ills. As for him, he was strong enough yet. - -Then he made a clumsy sort of bow and retreated. - -"I hope it will bring no bad luck," exclaimed Mere Lunde. "But he has -not a good name. I should throw the gift into the fire!" - -"I dare say it is of no great value." He shook the box. "Some bits of -silver with which he salves his conscience." - -Mere Lunde crossed herself. - -He put it away in his desk. He was not superstitious, but he wished it -had not happened this morning. - -It was quite late, but he unbarred his shop door. There was no trade -now. The fall business had lasted longer than usual on account of the -fine, open weather. When the cold once set in it often lasted steadily -for three months. But there was plenty of pleasure. The regular trappers -had gone off, but hunting parties often sallied out and returned laden -with game. - -Mere Lunde stole in to look at her patient and shook her head, threw -some more ears of corn in the kettle and answered the calls that came in -a joyous mood and left in sorrow. For people were very sympathetic in -those days, and cares were shared in true neighborly fashion. - -Presently there was a little moisture about the edge of Renee's hair, -but the watcher did not like the dull purple of her cheeks nor the -labored breathing. There might be a poultice for the throat; yes, she -would make that. And if the good Father came and made a prayer! But that -seemed as if one must be very ill indeed. - -Gaspard had no mind for pleasure. He went in and stood by the child, who -most of the time lay in a heavy sort of sleep. How strange she looked -with her red, swollen face, quite unlike herself! - -Yes, he would go for Dr. Montcrevier, though he had not much faith in -him, for he seemed to think more of strange bugs and birds and fishes -than human beings. However, his search was fruitless, perhaps it was as -well. - -"The fever is abating," was Mere Lunde's greeting in a joyous tone. -"Great drops have come out on her forehead. Ah, I think we shall conquer -with the good corn. And she has been awake." - -There was less pressure for breath, though the rattle in the throat was -not a pleasant sound. But by mid-afternoon she was in a drench of -perspiration, and then Mere Lunde rubbed her dry and rolled her in a -fresh blanket. - -"What is the matter? I feel so queer," exclaimed the tremulous voice. - -"You are ill, poor little child," in a tender tone. - -"Is it morning? The night was so long. It seemed as if the house was -burning up." - -"It was the bad fever. Oh, yes, it is day, almost another night. Oh, -little one, the good God be praised!" - -Mere Lunde dropped down on her knees and repeated a short prayer. - -Renee raised her head. - -"Oh, it still feels queer. And I am so tired." - -She dropped off to sleep again. Mere Lunde had two potions, one for the -fever, one for her general strength, but she would not disturb her now. -Sleep was generally a good medicine. - -"She has spoken. She is better," was the mere's greeting as Denys -entered. "But she is asleep now. Do not disturb her." - -Yes, the dreadful purple was going out of her face. He took the limp -little hand. It was cooler, though the pulse still beat hard and high. -Ah, how much one could come to love and hardly know it until the threat -of losing appeared. And he thought of her mother. He could never get it -out of his mind but that she had died in cruel neglect, alone and -heartbroken. He pressed the slim fingers to his lips, he studied the -brow with its soft, light rings of hair, the almost transparent eyelids -and long lashes, the dainty nose that had a piquant ending not quite -_retrousse_ but suggestive of it, and the small mouth, the lips wide in -the middle that gave it a roundness often seen in childhood. She would -be a pretty young girl, though it was her soft yet deep and wondering -eyes that made her resemble her mother. - -When she roused again Mere Lunde administered her potions. She made a -very wry face over the bitter one. The good mere put another poultice on -her throat and spread it well over her chest; rolling her up again like -a mummy. She would have laughed if there had not been a great lump in -her throat. - -"I am like a papoose," she said. "Uncle Gaspard, sit here and tell me -some stories." - -He would not go away after she had fallen asleep, but wrapped himself in -a blanket and leaned his head on the foot of her bed. Now and then she -moaned a little, which gave him a pang, and after midnight she grew very -restless. The fever was coming on again. Mere Lunde roused her and gave -her another potion, and before daylight she had prepared the corn bath -again. The fever did not seem to be as obstinate. By noon she was quite -comfortable. Father Lemoine brought in the vicar general, who was going -back to Ste. Genevieve. This was a great honor, and Mere Lunde brought -out some wine that had come from the real vineyards of France. - -Father Meurin heard the little girl's story. He had known of Antoine -Freneau, indeed, he had performed the first marriage and given the first -baptism in the little town. That was in a tent, because there was no -church. And the first services had been held in the fields, for the -church had been built hardly ten years. - -"She would be in poor hands if left to her grandfather," he admitted. -"And I hope she will be rightly brought up. If you had a wife, M. -Denys." - -"I have rambled about so much I have had no time to marry," he returned -rather drily. "But now I shall settle down." - -"I hope so. It is what the towns need, steady occupancy. And you will -deal rightly with the child and see that she is brought up as a daughter -of the Church should be. You are quite sure her mother--" he finished the -question with his eyes. - -"I saw the marriage register in the cathedral at Quebec. Then her mother -was taken to France, where she died," Denys answered. - -The vicar nodded, satisfied. He repeated the prayer for the recovery of -the sick and gave them all a kindly blessing with his adieu. - -Gaspard Denys fell into a brown study. She was not his child, to be -sure. Would it make any difference any time in the future? Ought there -to be some woman different from Mere Lunde--bah! it would be years before -Renee was grown up. And the little one wanted no one to share his love. -He was glad--that would always be an excuse to himself. He never could -put any one in the place he had hoped to set Renee Freneau. - - - - -CHAPTER VI - -BY THE FIRESIDE - - -Renee mended slowly. She had indeed been very ill. She was so weak that -it tired her to sit up among the pillows in her bed. And one day when -she insisted upon getting up she dropped over into Mere Lunde's arms. - -"Where is all my strength gone to?" she inquired pettishly. - -"_Pauvre petite_," it was queer, and the good woman had no science to -explain it. - -But her throat improved and her voice cleared up, the fever grew lighter -every day and she began to have some appetite. Friends came in to -inquire and sympathize and bring delicacies. Madame Renaud offered her -services, but no one was really needed, though the cordial, smiling face -did Renee good. Ma'm'selle Barbe brought the two little girls, who -looked awestricken at the pale face, where the eyes seemed bigger than -ever. - -Uncle Gaspard made a sort of settle on which they could put some -cushions and blankets so that she could be brought out to the living -room and watch Mere Lunde at her work. Then he improved upon it and made -it into a kind of chair with a back that could be raised and lowered by -an ingenious use of notches and wooden pins. He was getting so handy -that he made various useful articles, for in those days in these upper -settlements there were so few pieces of furniture that could be -purchased, unless some one died and left no relatives, which was very -seldom. Proud enough one was of owning an article or a bit of china or a -gown that was a family heirloom. - -"Oh," he said one evening when she was comfortably fixed and the blaze -of the great logs lighted up the room and made her pale face a little -rosy, "I had almost forgotten--you have been so ill it drove most other -things out of my mind. Your grandfather came up here on Christmas day -and brought you a gift." - -"A gift! Oh, what was it?" - -"Mere Lunde had not forgotten, but she had a superstitious feeling about -it. I will get it for you," Gaspard said. - -He returned from the adjoining room with the box in his hand. It was -very securely fastened with a twisted bit of deerskin, which was often -used for cord. - -"Open it," she begged languidly. - -He cut the cord but did not raise the cover. She held it some seconds in -her hand. - -"Uncle, do you remember you told me about a girl who opened a box and -let troubles out all over the world?" - -"But she was bidden not to. Grandpere Antoine did not leave any such -word as that," smilingly. - -She raised the cover slowly. There was a bit of soft white fur in the -bottom and on it lay a golden chain and a cross, with a pearl set where -the arms and upright met. In the clasp was a smaller pearl. She held it -up silently. - -"The good saints must have touched his soul!" ejaculated Mere Lunde. "A -beautiful cross! It is gold?" with a questioning glance at Denys. - -Renee handed it to him. - -"Oh, yes, gold of course. And your grandfather seemed quite moved with -pity for you. I saw him again this morning, but he said, 'Oh, I did not -think she would die.'" - -Renee's eyes were wide open, with a startled light. "Did anybody -think--that?" and her voice trembled. - -"You may be sure I did not," exclaimed Denys with spirit, almost with -joyousness. "I would not have let you go." - -She held out both arms to him, and he clasped her to his heart. - -"But people are compelled to sometimes," said Mere Lunde gravely. - -"We were not compelled. And now you are to get well as rapidly as -possible. Everybody has been having a merry time with the king's ball, -and you have missed it. But there is next year." - -How far away next year seemed! Spring, and summer, and autumn. - -"How long have I been ill? It is queer, but I don't seem to remember -clearly," trying to think, and studying the leaping blaze that seemed -like a group of children playing tag, or hide and seek. - -"It is almost a month. First it was pretty bad," and he compressed his -lips with a queer expression and shook his head. Now he had let his hair -grow quite long, as most of the men did, and the ends fell into a sort -of curl. - -"And then--Mere Lunde, the things you gave me were very bad and bitter, -and my head used to go round, I remember. Sometimes things stood on the -ceiling in such a funny position. And then to be like a baby, hardly -able to walk." - -She gave a soft, languid ripple of a laugh. Ah, what if he had lost her! - -"And when can I go out?" - -"Oh, not in a long while. It is bitter cold, even the river is full of -ice chunks. But you may dance at the next king's ball." - -"The king's ball?" inquiringly. - -"Not the King of France," with a gentle smile. "When the Christ was born -three kings came to do Him honor. And the feast is always kept." - -"The blessed Epiphany," explained Mere Lunde. "Though why it should be -given over to all this merry-making I can't see." - -"Did you ever go?" asked Renee. - -"Oh, yes. But not last year--I had started for Canada. And the year -before I was up with the hunters." - -"Tell me about it." - -He sat down beside her. She was twisting the chain about her fingers. - -"There is not much to do for the people who stay here in the winter, -though New Orleans is twice as gay. So they have the balls. There are -four queens, pretty young girls, and they each choose a king and open -the ball with him. Then they dance. But the old people and a good many -of the children go as well. And there is dancing and jollity and a feast -of good things to eat, and much laughing and jesting and falling in -love, with the marrying at Easter. Next year we will go." - -"I will keep my chain to wear then." She put it back in the box. "And -when I am well I will go down and thank grandfather." - -"Yes, yes, that will be the right thing to do. I will take you." - -Then they were silent awhile. "Tell me some of the stories you know," -she entreated. - -"I have told you so many." - -"But you can think of one more," in her coaxing tone. "Away up in the -north and the endless fields of snow, and where does it end?" - -"At the North Pole, I believe." - -"And what is that?" eagerly. - -"We will have to ask Dr. Montcrevier. I have never been farther than -Hudson's Bay." - -"But people can't live in such endless cold!" - -"I think not. Only polar bears and the white and silver fox, and they -come down in the winter. And then there are islands hundreds of miles -away below us, where it is always summer." - -"What a queer world!" She smiled absently as if she could hardly take it -in. "Have you been there?" - -"Only to New Orleans. Some day we will go there, too." - -"Oh, how much there is to do. Yes, one must live a long while to do it -all," and a thoughtful expression deepened her eyes. - -"And you are tired, little one. You must go to bed." - -It was strange to get so tired. She had been tired many times on the -long journey from Canada, but not like this. She was very glad she had -not died, however, though she had no very clear idea about death, except -that it meant going to another world. Uncle Gaspard was here, and that -was one reason why she wanted to stay. - -Presently she began to go about and take pleasure in having the children -come in and tell her about their sports. The life was so simple, the -main thing seemed to be the good times. No one troubled about education -and there were no "higher branches" to vex one's soul. There was much -less dissipation here than in New Orleans or even Detroit, where people -from other towns were continually mingling. - -One day Uncle Gaspard took her out on his sledge. She had never dreamed -of anything so splendid. Great fields of snowy white, as far as the eye -could see, dotted here and there with a cluster of wigwam poles and -brown skins stretched on the outside for warmth. A little blue-gray -smoke curled lazily upward, and then the bluest sky over it all. The air -was exhilarating and brought a color to her pale cheeks, and made her -eyes glow like stars. - -Then spring came. The white blanket melted away, the evergreens and -spruces scented the air with their new growth; the little streams rushed -hither and thither as if they were joyfully carolling, birds sang and -built everywhere. Children were out for wild flowers, and raced around -like deers. Some days the old mound was alive with them, then they were -down to Chouteau's pond. The boys and often some girls went up the river -in canoes. There was the old rock of Fort St. Louis with its story of a -hundred years agone, of how La Salle had built a fort and planted an -Indian colony, that, when its leader had gone, dwindled and went back to -its native tribes. How there had been a fierce quarrel between the -Illinois and the Outgamies, and the Illinois had fled to the top of the -rock and stayed there until starvation stared them in the face and -French intervention came to their assistance. - -Then business opened and Gaspard Denys found his hands full. His wide -acquaintance with the hunters and his dealings with the Indians brought -him in a great deal of trade. There was a continual loading and -unloading of boats, the levee was thronged. Denys had to take in a -clerk, and his evenings were devoted to straightening accounts and -preparing for the next day, and it seemed to Renee as if he was always -busy now, with no time for stories. - -Easter brought a gay festival and several weddings. The young -_voyageurs_ were warmly welcomed home and there was always a feast or a -ball given in their honor. When the houses were too small, they went out -and danced on the green. Marriages seemed an especially social affair. -The families on both sides made the agreement and were mutually pleased. -It was seldom a young couple disregarded the respect universally paid to -parents, and though there was much pioneer life there was a kind of -elegance and refinement among the women with all their vivacious gayety. -The admixture of Spanish blood was no bad element. - -One of the young traders had brought home with him a beautiful Indian -wife, lawfully wedded by one of the mission priests. These mixed -marriages were not in much favor with the French. Now and then a trapper -brought in one and stayed a few months, but she nearly always preferred -to share his hunting expeditions. Still, there were some comfortably -settled, whose families years afterward were very proud of their Indian -descent. - -Francois Marchand found an old friend in Gaspard Denys. It does not take -a decade to cement a friendship made over camp-fires and days filled -with adventures and dangers. They had not met in two years, and the -youth, who seemed but a stripling to Gaspard then, was now a fine young -fellow, his slim figure filled out, his thin face rounded with certain -lines of energy, determination, and good health. His clear blue eyes -were resolute and undaunted; his chestnut hair was cropped close, which -made him less of an object for an Indian's scalping knife. - -"How the town has grown!" he exclaimed with great earnestness. New St. -Louis would have laughed at the idea that twenty or thirty families -could add much importance. But there had been a few new houses built, -sundry additions made to older ones where families had increased. -Colonel Chouteau was beautifying the house and grounds where his -lamented chief and dear friend had lived. The government house had been -repaired, though the new occupant seemed much more indifferent than his -people, and cared very little for the interest of the town in general. - -"We shall have a fine place by and by," returned Denys. "True, New -Orleans has the mouth of the great river, but if no boats come down, -what then? And we are the half-way house, the north and the south both -need us. If it were not for these troublesome restrictions on trade, and -the fear of the British." - -"France, it seems, has sided with the colonies, and Spain has given them -a certain sympathy," returned Marchand. "You hear a good deal of talk up -north. The fur dealers of New Amsterdam are quite sure the colonies will -win in the end, though by my faith it doesn't look very promising now," -and he gave a doubtful laugh. - -"Almost five years of losing and winning! Well, they are plucky not to -be discouraged. But what troubles me a little are the English over -there!" nodding to the eastward. "If some fine day they descend upon -us--well, we shall be wiped out, that is all about it! The government at -New Orleans does not seem to care, and sends us this drunken, insolent -fellow for commandant, who is as set in his own ways as a mule." - -"The English will be kept busy enough on the eastern coast defending -their ports and trying to capture the cities. Faith! it is a great and -glorious country, and I hardly know which has the best, the east or the -west. If some day the way is cleared to the Pacific coast, and then, -presto! India!" - -India was still a dream of the advancement of commerce. The western -empire was to turn more than one brain. - -Denys studied the young face in the glow of youthful enthusiasm. - -"Marchand, you should have been a soldier," he said. - -"Well, which side shall I take?" mockingly. "I am French. Those cursed -English have driven us out of Canada. Thank Heaven we have left some -graves of heroes there. But I wonder what Louis le Grand could have been -thinking of to allow himself to be despoiled of such a magnificent -estate! And here we were all turned over to Spain without even a chance -to fight for our homes in the New World," and Marchand gave a strong, -scornful laugh. "There are still the Indians left." - -"We have kept good friends with them so far." - -"But the British can stir them up easily. Rum and firearms may do the -mischief. Still, it is true that some day I may have to fight for my -life, or something I hold dearer than life." - -"Are you going back north?" - -Marchand shook his head. He was sitting on a pile of skins leaning -against the wall, picturesque in his _voyageur's_ attire, which was -highly ornamented with Indian work. Now and then in the intervals of -talk he blew out a volume of smoke from his pipe, or made rings in the -air when he took it from his mouth. There was something jaunty and -light-hearted about him in spite of the resolute eyes. - -"Nay," with a shake of the head, "I have cut myself out of that. I like -the life, too. Denys, were you ever very much in love? But no, that is a -foolish question, for you are the sort of man to fight for the one who -roused your soul. And so many pretty girls are here in St. Louis!" - -"Yes, I heard you had married," evading the half inquiry. - -"I want you to see her, my beautiful Indian prize. Though I suspect -there is a strain of French blood back of her mother, who was brought -somewhere from Canada. And when her father was killed at one of those -dreadful massacres up on the strait (her mother had died before), she -and her brother were adopted in one branch of the Huron tribe. Her -brother married a chief's daughter. I saw her first more than a year -ago, in the winter. She was only a child, not as forward as most Indian -maids. And last winter we met again, and yes, fell in love with each -other. The squaw who had been like a mother to her consented. But -straightway there was trouble. Her brother had chosen a brave for her, a -fellow noted for his fighting propensities and his love of drink. It was -surmised that he was buying her. She shrank from him with horror. He had -had two wives already, and rumor said he had beaten one to death. I was -ready to leave with my men and pack, and she came to me in terror and -despair. She would have killed herself, I know, before she could have -gone to such a brute. We loved each other, and the old woman Nasauka -pitied us, and had a strong liking for me. So it was arranged. I was to -start with my people, leaving her behind. When the train was several -days under way I was to remain at a given point where Nasauka was to -meet me with the girl, and then return to ward suspicion from the right -track. I only hope the poor woman did not suffer for her kindly sympathy -for us. We made our way along without any alarm. At a mission station a -priest married us. And now we are safe here and doubtless unsuspected. -But I shall not expose myself to any dangers, at least for several years -to come. There are other trails to work on. Or we may go farther south." - -"Quite a romantic story, Marchand. The saints be praised that you -rescued her from such a life, though I think she would have chosen death -rather. I have known of several instances. Yes, it will be safer not to -visit the old hunting ground, even if the brave solaces himself with a -new wife." - -"And now you must see her. I know there is a little prejudice, and," -with a cynical sort of smile, "if I had a sister I should not let her -marry an Indian if I had to shut her up in a convent. But there are many -charming Indian girls and kindly hearted squaws, true as steel, who will -suffer anything rather than betray. Strange, too, when you find so much -deceit and falseness and cruelty among the men." - -"The women take all the virtues, perhaps. Yes, I shall be glad to -welcome you. To-morrow you will bring her to dine with us. Meanwhile, -you have found a home?" - -"With the Garreaus. Pierre did the same thing, you know, and is happy -enough with his two pretty children. Ah, when you see my beautiful wife -you will not wonder that I went mad for her," laughing with a kind of -gay triumph. - -Ah, if he had been brave enough at twenty to fly with Renee Freneau! But -would she have dared an unblessed marriage? And then neither dreamed of -such a result from the journey to Canada. - -"I shall not blame you," Gaspard answered gravely. "And if you want a -staunch friend, here he is," springing up and holding out his hand. - -"A thousand thanks, Gaspard Denys. I wanted to tell you my story. It is -not for every one, only the fact that I have loved and married her. And -now it grows late. Good-night." - -They clasped hands again cordially. Denys shut his shop door and went -through to the other room. Mere Lunde was telling over some beads. Renee -sat in the chimney corner, but the fire was out long ago. - -"Why did you let that man talk so long to you?" with pretty -imperiousness. "And I grew very sleepy. But I wanted to say good-night." - -"He had much to relate, a story you will like to hear sometime. And he -is coming to-morrow to bring a pretty Indian wife that he found up by -the Strait of Michilimackinac. That is a long name, is it not?" - -"And is the strait long--as long as to the end of the millpond?" - -"It is of more account. It connects the big Lake Michigan with Lake -Huron." - -Geography had not come to be one of the studies, and the only maps were -the traders' rough outlines of journeys. - -She was not considering the lakes. Her thoughts were as rapid as a -bird's flight. - -"Is she like Mattawissa?" - -"Oh, younger, much younger. Only a girl. Fifteen or sixteen perhaps. -They will come to dinner to-morrow. Mere Lunde," raising his voice a -little, "we shall have guests to-morrow. Give us a good dinner." - -"Guests! How many?" in a cheerful tone. - -"Oh, only two. A young trader and his wife, a pretty Indian girl. -Unless, indeed, some one else drops in." - -This often happened in a town where there were no inns, and sometimes -led to rather amusing episodes when a traveller mistook the wide-open -doors and a bountiful table for a hostelry. - -"Did you see her?" asked Renee, following out her own thoughts. - -"No, but I have known him some time. He was a young lad here in the -town, Francois Marchand." - -Mere Lunde shut down the cover of the box that held her beads, and -picked up the end of her stout apron. It always seemed to assist her -memory. - -"Marchand. And a boy. Had he very blue eyes?" - -"Yes, and he has them still," laughed Denys. - -"Then I know. He was a nice lad. It is a thousand pities he has married -an Indian. Yes, you shall have a good dinner. Renee, it is time thou -went to bed." - -Renee rose and kissed Uncle Gaspard. She had, ever since her illness, -that seemed to have drawn them nearer together, if such a thing had been -possible. - -As a great honor the next day, she brought out her pretty bowl and -filled it with flowers. Uncle Gaspard had made a small table with a -drawer that held Mere Lunde's beads and some other choice articles, and -had a shelf low down on which was kept a work-basket with sewing -materials, for at times Renee was seized with a fit of devotion to her -needle. On the top of the table she set the bowl. - -Curious eyes had followed Francois Marchand down the Rue de l'Eglise. -For with a vanity quite natural the young girl had taken in her flight -her beautifully ornamented dress that would have adorned any Indian -bride. Long afterward in the Marchand family they used to display -grandmere's exquisitely worked suit. - -Gaspard Denys with Renee by the hand went out to the gate to bid them -welcome. Renee almost stared. A slim, graceful figure of medium height, -with a face that in some towns would have attracted more attention than -the attire. Large, soft eyes of dusky, velvety blackness, a complexion -just tinted with Indian blood, the cheeks blossoming in the most -exquisite rose hue, while the lips were cherry red. Her long hair was -brushed up from her straight, low brow, held with a band of glittering -bead work, and falling about her shoulders like a veil, much softer and -finer than ordinary Indian hair. Her short skirt had a band of shining -white feathers overlapping each other, with here and there a cluster of -yellow ones that resembled a daisy. The fine, elegantly dressed fawnskin -was like velvet. The bodice was wrought with beads and variously colored -threads and a sort of lace the Indian women made, though it was an -infrequent employment, being rather tedious. Over her shoulders a cape -of soft-dressed, creamy skin, with designs worked here and there in fine -detail. - -She colored daintily on being presented to M. Denys, and he in turn -brought forward his little protege, who held up her head proudly and -felt almost as tall. But a second glance conquered Renee. She proffered -both hands cordially. - -"Oh, I am sure I shall like you," she cried frankly. How could any one -help adoring so much beauty! For Renee was not envious of beauty alone. - -The young wife took the hands with glad pressure, and they went in -together. - -"Here is a friend who remembers you," said Denys to Marchand. "Her son -died, and at that juncture I wanted a housekeeper. She fits in -admirably." - -Mere Lunde trembled with delight when he shook her hand so heartily and -expressed his pleasure at seeing her again, declaring that she had grown -younger instead of older, which was true enough, so great a restorer is -freedom from care and fear of coming want. - -"But the child?" said Marchand with curiosity in his eyes. - -The child was playing hostess to the young wife with the ease and grace -of a true Frenchwoman, and displaying the adornments of her room. This -and that had come from Mattawissa, who made beautiful articles that -Uncle Gaspard sent to New Orleans, and who was sweet and friendly, not -like some of the morose old Indian women about. But then Mattawissa was -not old. - -Gaspard smiled at the little girl's chatter, and explained briefly. - -"One would hardly think such a pretty innocent thing could belong to old -Antoine! Is he still in with the river pirates? His goods must be hidden -somewhere. He does not keep them in the house, it would seem, for the -guards found nothing when they searched." - -"He is a shrewd old dog," replied Gaspard. "But his wife and his -daughter were of a different kind. And you see he could not have taken -charge of the child." - -Marchand nodded. - -The dinner was certainly Mere Lunde's best. The men had their talk about -trade and who was prospering, but the two girls, who sat side by side, -had some gay laughs, and occasionally hard work to understand each -other. Wawataysee, the Firefly, as she was called in her native -language, knew a little French and a little English, and often confused -them. Renee had picked up a few words of English, but the tongue was -quite despised at that time. And when the dinner was through they went -out to walk, pausing at the little old church and the priest's house on -the way to the fort, and the little plot about. - -Father Valentine came out and gave them a cordial greeting. Denys did -the honors. - -The priest bent his head close to Marchand's. - -"You have been true and fair with this beautiful girl?" he asked a -little anxiously. "She is your lawful wife?" - -"Yes, oh, a thousand times yes. Here is the good father's signature and -that of the witnesses. It was at the little mission at St. Pierre's." - -He took out a bundle of papers in a deerskin wallet. Tied securely in a -little package by itself was the priest's certificate. - -Father Valentine nodded, well pleased. "And she is a baptized -Christian," he added. "I wish you both much happiness." - -"Suppose you keep this awhile for me," said Marchand, "while I am -changing about. I hardly know yet where I shall settle." - -"Gladly will I oblige you. But why not stay here, my son? St. Louis -needs industry and energy and capable citizens for her upbuilding." - -"I am thinking of it, I confess. I have already met with a warm welcome -from old friends." - -They walked round about the fort. Wawataysee knew curious legends of -Pontiac and had heard of the siege of Detroit. Indeed, many of the -Hurons had participated in it. And here was the end of so much bravery -and energy, misdirected, and of no avail against the invincible march of -the white man. - - - - -CHAPTER VII - -AT THE KING'S BALL - - -It was a very gay summer to Renee de Longueville. - -Rosalie Pichou protested and grew angry at being superseded. - -"She is only an Indian after all," the girl exclaimed disdainfully. "And -my mother thinks it a shame M'sieu Marchand should have married her when -there were so many nice girls in St. Louis." - -"But she is beautiful and sweet. And, Rosalie, Uncle Gaspard will not -care to have you come if you say ugly things about her." - -"Well, I can stay away. There are plenty of girls to play with. And I -shall soon be a young ma'm'selle and have lovers of my own, then I shall -not care for a little chit like you. You can even send the cat back if -you like." - -The cat had grown big and beautiful and kept the place free from mice -and rats, which was a great object in the storeroom. Uncle Gaspard said -he would not trade it for a handsome silver foxskin, which everybody -knew was worth a great deal of money in France. - -Madame Marchand made many friends by her grace and amiability. She -taught Renee some beautiful handiwork, and with the little girl was -always a welcome visitor at Mattawissa's, though at first they had as -much difficulty understanding each other's Indian language as if it had -been English. But what a lovely, joyous summer it was, with its walks -and water excursions up and down the river and on the great pond! - -On Saturday she went with Renee to be instructed in the Catechism, and -whichever father was there he seemed impressed with Wawataysee's sweet -seriousness and gentle ways. - -Then autumn came on. The great fields of corn were cut, the grapes -gathered and the wine made. The traders came in again and boats plied up -and down. Uncle Gaspard was very busy, and the men about said, making -money. The women wondered if Renee de Longueville would get it all, and -what old Antoine Freneau had; if so she would be a great heiress. - -There were nuts to gather as well, and merry parties haunted the woods -for them. Oh, what glorious days these were, quite enough to inspirit -any one! Then without much warning a great fleecy wrap of snow fell over -everything, but the sledging and the shouting had as much merriment in -it. - -Gaspard Denys did not want Renee to go to midnight mass at -Christmastide. - -"Oh, I am so much bigger and stronger now," she said. "I am not going to -be such a baby as to take cold. Oh, you will see." - -She carried her point, of course. He could seldom refuse her anything. -And the next morning she was bright enough to go to church again. And -how sweet it was to see the children stop on the porch and with bowed -heads exclaim, "Your blessing, ma mere, your blessing, mon pere," and -shake hands with even the poorest, giving them good wishes. - -Then all parties went home to a family breakfast. Even the servants were -called in. Then the children ran about with the etrennes to each other. - -"Uncle Gaspard," Renee said, "I want to take something to my -grandfather. He brought me that beautiful chain and cross last year, and -I made a cake that Mere Lunde baked, and candied some pears, thinking of -him." - -"Perhaps he is not home. You can never tell." - -"He was yesterday. M. Marchand saw him. Will you go?" - -"You had better have Mere Lunde. I am busy. But if I can find time I -will walk down and meet you. And--Renee, do not go in." - -"I will heed," she answered smilingly. - -The road was hardly broken outside the stockade. Once or twice she -slipped and fell into the snow, but it was soft and did not hurt her. -Mere Lunde grumbled a little. - -"There is a smoke coming from the chimney," Renee cried joyfully. "Let -us go around to the kitchen door." - -They knocked two or three times. They could hear a stir within, and -presently the door was opened a mere crack. - -"Grandfather," the child began, "I have come to wish you a good -Christmas. I am sorry you were not at church to hear how the little babe -Jesus was born for our sakes, and how glad all the stars were, even, so -glad that they sang together. And I have brought you some small gifts, a -cake I made for you, alone, yesterday. You made me such a beautiful gift -last year when I was ill." - -"And you've come for another! That's always the way," he returned -gruffly. - -"No, grandfather, I do not want anything, only to give you this basket -with good wishes and tell you that I am well and happy," she said in a -proud, sweet voice, and set the basket down on the stone at the doorway. -"It would not be quite right for you to give me anything this year." - -Her gray fur cloak covered her, and her white fur cap over her fair -curls gave her a peculiar daintiness. - -"Good-by," she continued, "with many good wishes." - -He looked after her in a kind of dazed manner. And she did not want -anything! True, she had enough. Gaspard Denys took good care of her--_he_ -was too old to be bothered with a child. - -But she skipped along very happily. The Marchands were coming in to -supper, and in the meanwhile she and Mere Lunde would concoct dainty -messes. She would not go out sledding with the children lest she should -take cold again. - -It was all festival time now. It seemed as if people had nothing to do -but to be gay and merry. Fiddling and singing everywhere, and some of -the voices would have been bidden up to a high price in more modern -times. - -And on New Year's day the streets were full of young men who went from -door to door singing a queer song, she thought, when she came to know it -well afterward. Part of it was, "We do not ask for much, only the eldest -daughter of the house. We will give her the finest of the wine and feast -her and keep her feet warm," which seemed to prefigure the dance a few -days hence. Sometimes the eldest daughter would come out with a -contribution, and these were all stored away to be kept for the Epiphany -ball. - -In the evening they sang love songs at the door or window of the young -lady to whom they were partial, and if the fancy was returned or -welcomed the fair one generally made some sign. And then they said -good-night to the master and mistress of the household and wished them a -year's good luck. - -If a pretty girl or even a plain one was out on New Year's day -unattended, a young fellow caught her, kissed her, and wished her a -happy marriage and a prosperous year. Sometimes, it was whispered, there -had a hint been given beforehand and the right young fellow found the -desired girl. - -But the king's ball was the great thing. In the early afternoon the -dames and demoiselles met and the gifts were arranged for the evening. -Of the fruit and flour a big cake was baked in which were put four large -beans. When all was arranged the girls and the mothers donned their best -finery, some of it half a century old, and kept only for state -occasions. The older people opened the ball with the _minuet de la -cour_, which was quite grand and formal. - -Then the real gayety began. With it all there was a certain charming -respect, a kind of fine breeding the French never lost. Old gentlemen -danced with the young girls, and the young men with matrons. Children -were allowed in also, and had corners to themselves. It was said of them -that the French were born dancing. - -There were no classes in this festivity. Even some of the upper kind of -slaves came, and the young Indians ventured in. - -Gaspard Denys took the little girl, who was all eagerness. M. and Madame -Garreau brought their guests, the Marchands, for society had quite taken -in the beautiful young Indian, who held her head up so proudly no one -would have dared to offer her a slight. - -Among the gayest was Barbe Guion. She had not taken young Maurice, who -had gone off to New Orleans. People were beginning to say that she was a -bit of a coquette. Madame Renaud announced that Alphonse Maurice was too -trifling and not steady enough for a good husband. In her heart Barbe -knew that she had never really meant to marry him. - -At midnight the cake was cut and every young girl had a piece. This was -the great amusement, and everybody thronged about. - -"A bean! a bean!" cried Manon Dupont, holding it high above her head so -all could see. - -Then another, one of the pretty Aubry girls, whose sister had been -married at Easter. - -"And I, too," announced Barbe Guion, laughing. - -They cleared a space for the four queens to stand out on the floor. What -eager glances the young men cast. - -Manon Dupont chose her lover, as every one supposed she would, but there -was no fun or surprise in it, though a general assent. - -"And how will she feel at the next ball when _he_ has to choose a -queen?" said some one. "She is a jealous little thing." - -Ma'm'selle Aubry glanced around with a coquettish air and selected the -handsomest young fellow in the room. - -Who would Barbe Guion choose? She looked dainty enough in a white -woollen gown with scarlet cloth bands; and two or three masculine hearts -beat with a thump, as the eyes fairly besought. - -Gaspard Denys was talking with the burly commandant of the fort, though -it must be admitted there was very little to command. She went over to -him and handed him her rose. - -He bowed and a slight flush overspread his face, while her eyes could -not conceal her delight. - -"You do me a great deal of honor, ma'm'selle, but you might have -bestowed your favor on a younger and more suitable man. I thank you for -the compliment," and he pinned the rose on his coat. - -She smiled with a softened light in her eyes. - -"It is the first time I have had a chance to choose a king," she said in -a caressing sort of voice. "I could not have suited myself better. And--I -am almost eighteen. Elise was married a year before that." - -"You are not single for lack of admirers, ma'm'selle." She remembered he -used to call her Barbe. "What did you do with Alphonse, send him away -with a broken heart?" - -"His was not the kind of heart to break, monsieur. And a girl cannot -deliberately choose bad luck. There is sorrow enough when it comes -unforeseen." - -Then they took their places. Renee had been very eager at first and -watched the two closely. M. Marchand had appealed to her on some trifle, -and now she saw Barbe and Uncle Gaspard take their places in the dance. - -"Did she--choose Uncle Gaspard?" the child exclaimed with a long -respiration that was like a sigh, while a flush overspread her face. - -"He is the finest man in the room! I would have chosen him myself if I -had been a maid. And if you had been sixteen wouldn't you have taken -him, little girl? Well, your day will come," in a gay tone. - -Wawataysee placed her arm over the child's shoulder. "Let us go around -here, we can see them better. What an odd way to do! And very pretty, -too!" - -Renee's first feeling was that she would not look. Then with a quick -inconsequence she wanted to see every step, every motion, every glance. -Her king! Barbe Guion had chosen him, and the child's eyes flashed. - -It was a beautiful dance, and the gliding, skimming steps of light feet -answered the measure of the music exquisitely. Other circles formed. The -kings and the queens were not to have it all to themselves. - -The balls were often kept up till almost morning, though the children -and some of the older people went home. Gaspard made his way through the -crowd. Madame Marchand beckoned him, and as he neared them he saw Renee -was clinging to her with a desperate emotion next to tears. - -"Is it not time little ones were in bed?" she asked with her fascinating -smile and in pretty, broken French. "Madame Garreau wishes to retire. It -is beautiful, and every one is so cordial. I have danced with delight," -and her pleasure shone in her eyes. "But we will take the child safe to -Mere Lunde if it is your will." - -"Oh, thank you. Yes. You will go, Renee? You look tired." She was pale -and her eyes were heavy. - -"And you--you stay here and are Ma'm'selle Barbe's king," she said in a -tone of plaintive reproach that went to his heart. - -"That is only for to-night. There are other queens beside her." - -"But she is _your_ queen." The delicate emphasis amused him, it betrayed -the rankling jealousy. - -"And you are my queen as well, to-morrow, next week, all the time. So do -not grudge her an hour or two. See, I am going to give you her rose, -_my_ rose, to take home with you." - -She smiled, albeit languidly, and held out her small hand, grasping it -with triumph. - -He broke the stem as he drew it out, leaving the pin in his coat. - -"Now let me see you wrapped up snug and tight. Mind you don't get any -cold. Tell Mere Lunde to warm the bed and give you something hot to -drink." - -She nodded and the party went to the dressing room. The two Indian women -chattered in their own language, or rather in a patois that they had -adopted. Wawataysee was very happy, and her soft eyes shone with -satisfaction. Her husband thought her the prettiest woman in all St. -Louis. - -Renee gave her orders and Mere Lunde attended to them cheerfully. - -"For if you should fall ill again our hearts would be heavy with sorrow -and anxiety." she said. - -Renee had carried the rose under her cloak and it was only a little -wilted. She put it in some water herself, and brought the stand near the -fireplace, for sometimes it would freeze on the outer edges of the room, -though they kept a big log fire all night. - -Gaspard went back to Ma'm'selle Barbe. - -"Oh, your rose!" she cried. "Where is it?" - -He put his hand to his coat as if he had not known it. "The pin is -left," he said. "What a crowd there is! St. Louis is getting overrun -with people," laughing gayly. "Give me a rose out of your nosegay, for -it would signify bad luck to go on the floor without it." - -He took one and fastened it in his coat again, and they were soon -merrily dancing. There was no absolute need of changing partners, and -the queens were proud of keeping their admirers all the evening. - -Barbe was delighted and happy, for Gaspard evinced no disposition to -stray off, and danced to her heart's content, if not his. He had grown -finer looking, certainly, since he had relinquished the hardships of a -trapper's life. His complexion had lost the weather-beaten look, his -frame had filled out, and strangely enough, he was a much more ready -talker. Renee chattered so much, asked him so many questions, and made -him talk over people and places he had seen that it had given him a -readiness to talk to women. Men could always find enough to say to each -other, or enjoy silence over their pipes. - -She seemed to grow brighter instead of showing fatigue, and her voice -had musical cadences in it very sweet to hear. The touch of her hand on -his arm or his shoulder in the dance did give him a peculiar sort of -thrill. She was a very sweet, pretty girl. He was glad not to have her -wasted on Alphonse Maurice. - -But the delicious night came to an end for her. There was a curious -little strife among some of the young men to make a bold dash and -capture a queen. The girls were sometimes willing enough to be caught. -Barbe had skilfully evaded this, he noted. - -"Ma'm'selle Guion has the bravest king of them all," said a neighbor. -"He is a fine fellow. I wonder, Mere Renaud, you do not fan the flame -into a blaze. He is prospering, too. Colonel Chouteau speaks highly of -him and holds out a helping hand. If I had daughters no one would suit -me better." - -Madame Renaud smiled and nodded as if she had a secret confidence. - -Mothers in old St. Louis were very fond and proud of their daughters and -were watchful of good opportunities for them. And those who had none -rather envied them. It was the cordial family affection that made life -in these wilderness places delightful. - -Barbe was being wound up in her veil so that her pretty complexion -should suffer no ill at this coldest hour of the twenty-four, after -being heated in the dance. She looked very charming, very tempting. If -he had been a lover he would have kissed her. - -"You come so seldom now," she said in a tone of seductive complaint. -"And we were always such friends when you returned from your journeys. -The children have missed you so much. And Lisa wonders--" - -"I suppose it is being busy every day. At that time you know there was a -holiday between." - -"But there is no business now until spring opens," in a pleading tone. - -"Except for the householder, the shopkeeper. Oh, you have no idea how -ingenious I have become. And the men drop in to talk over plans and -berate the Governor because things are not in better shape. We would -fare badly in an attack." - -"Are we in any danger from the British?" - -"One can never tell. Perhaps they may take up Pontiac's wild dream of -driving us over the mountains into the sea. No," with a short laugh, "I -am not much afraid. And our Indians are friendly also." - -"Come, Barbe," counselled Madame Renaud, but she took her husband's arm -and marched on ahead like an astute general. - -Barbe clung closely to her attendant, for in some places it was -slippery. - -"Next time you will transfer your attentions," she said with a touch of -regret. "I wonder who will be your queen for a night?" - -"The prettiest girl," he said gayly. - -"Madame Marchand is beautiful." - -"But she is no longer a girl." - -"Oh, no. You see a good deal of her, though?" - -"They are over often. We are excellent friends." - -"Renee is quite bewitched with her." - -"Yes, they are very fond of each other." - -And somehow she, Barbe, was no more fond of the child than the child was -of her. - -Madame Renaud studied her sister's face as they were unwinding their -wraps. It was rather pale, not flushed and triumphant as she hoped. - -Gaspared Denys stirred the fire in his shop and threw himself on a pile -of skins and was asleep in five minutes. It had been a long while since -he had danced all night. - -They all slept late. There was no need of stirring early in the morning. -They made no idol of industry, as the energetic settlers on the eastern -coast did. Pleasure and happiness were enough for them. It ran in the -French blood. - -When Gaspard woke he heard a sound of an eager chattering voice. He -rubbed his limbs and stretched himself, looked down on his red sash and -then saw a withered red rose that he tossed in the fire. - -"Ah, little one, you are as blithe as a bee," was his greeting. - -"Oh, Uncle Gaspard, you have on your ball clothes. When did you come -home?" she asked. - -"I dropped asleep in them. I am old and stiff this morning. I tumbled -down on a pile of skins and stayed there." - -"You don't look very old. And--are you a king now?" rather curiously. - -"I must be two weeks hence. Then I resign my sceptre, and become an -ordinary person." - -"And Mere Lunde said you had to choose a new queen." There was a touch -of elation in her voice. - -"That is so. And I told Ma'm'selle Guion I should look out for the very -prettiest girl. I shall be thinking all the time." - -"I wish you could take Wawataysee. She is the prettiest of anybody, and -the sweetest." - -"And she has already chosen her king for life." - -"The breakfast will get cold," warned Mere Lunde. - -There were more snows, days when you could hardly stir out and paths had -to be shovelled. The next ball night it stormed, but Renee did not care -to go, because M. and Madame Marchand were staying all night and they -would play games and have parched corn and cakes and spiced drinks. -Wawataysee would sing, too. And though the songs were odd, she had an -exquisite voice, and she could imitate almost any bird, as well as the -wind flying and shrieking through the trees, and then softening with -sounds of spring. - -Sometimes they danced together, and it was a sight to behold, the very -impersonation of grace; soft, languid mazes at first and then warming -into flying sprites of the forest. And how Renee's eyes shone and her -cheeks blossomed, while the little moccasined feet made no more sound -than a mouse creeping about. - -There was no especial carnival at St. Louis, perhaps a little more -gayety than usual, and the dances winding up at midnight. Nearly every -one went to church the next morning, listened to the prayers reverently, -had a small bit of ashes dropped on his or her head, went home and -fasted the rest of the day. But Lent was not very strictly kept, and the -maids were preparing for Easter weddings. - -"It is strange," said grandaunt Guion, "that Barbe has no lover. She is -too giddy, too much of a coquette. She will be left behind. And she is -too pretty to turn into an old maid. Guion girls were not apt to hang on -hand." - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - -THE SURPRISE - - -There was, it is true, a side not so simple and wholesome, and this had -been gathering slowly since the advent of the governor. More drunken men -were seen about the levee. There was talk of regular orgies taking place -at the government house, and the more thoughtful men, like the -Chouteaus, the Guerins, the Guions, and the Lestourniers, had to work -hard to get the fortifications in any shape, and the improvements made -were mostly done by private citizens. - -Of course there were many rumors, but old St. Louis rested securely on -her past record. What the people about her were losing or gaining did -not seem to trouble her. Now and then a river pirate was caught, or -there was some one tripped up and punished who had traded unlawfully. - -This had been the case with a French Canadian named Ducharme, who had -been caught violating the treaty law, trading with Indians in Spanish -territory, and giving them liberal supplies of rum in order to make -better bargains with furs. His goods were seized and confiscated, but he -was allowed to go his way, breathing threats of retaliation. - -France had recognized the independence of the colonies, which had -stirred up resentment in the minds of many of the English in northern -Michigan. It was said an English officer at Michilimackinac had formed a -plan of seizing or destroying some of the western towns and stations -where there was likely to be found booty enough to reward them. Ducharme -joined the scheme eagerly and gathered roving bands of Ojibways. -Winnebagoes and Sioux, and by keeping well to the eastern side of the -Mississippi marched down nearly opposite Gabaret Island, and crossed -over to attack the town. - -Corpus Christi was a great festival day of the church. Falling late in -May, on the 25th, it was an out-of-doors entertainment. After mass had -been said in the morning, women and children, youths and maidens, and -husbands who could be spared from business, went out for a whole day's -pleasure with baskets and bags of provisions. - -The day was magnificent. The fragrance of spruce and fir, the breath of -the newly grown grasses, the bloom of trees and flowers, was like the -most exhilarating perfume, and stirred all the senses. - -Spies had crept down the woods to reconnoitre and assure themselves -their arrival had not been suspected. It seemed indeed an opportune -moment. It was now mid-afternoon. There had been dancing and merriment, -the children had run and played, gathered wild strawberries and flowers, -and some of the more careful ones had collected their little children -and started homeward. - -To the westward was Cardinal Spring, owned by a man of that name, but -considered free property. He and another hunter had been shooting game, -and as he stooped for a drink his companion espied an Indian cautiously -creeping through the trees. - -"Indians! Indians!" he shouted, and fired. - -Cardinal snatched up his gun, but a storm of bullets felled him. Riviere -was captured. A young Frenchman, catching sight of the body of Indians, -gave the alarm. - -"Run for your lives! Fly to the fort!" he shouted. - -There were men working in the fields, and nearly every one took his gun, -as much for the chance at game as any real fear of Indians. They covered -the retreat a little, and as this was a reconnoitring party, the main -body was at some distance. - -"Fly! Fly!" Men who had no weapons caught little ones in their arms and -ran toward the fort. All was wild alarm. - -"What is it?" cried Colonel Chouteau, who had been busy with some papers -of importance. - -"The Indians! The Indians!" shouted his brother. - -"Call out the militia! Where is the Governor?" - -"In his own house, drunk as usual," cried Pierre indignantly, and he ran -to summon the soldiers. - -There had been a small body of troops under the command of Captain -Cartabona, a Spaniard sent from Ste. Genevieve at the urgent request of -the chief citizens, but it being a holiday they were away, some canoeing -down the river or fishing, and of the few to be found most of them were -panic stricken. The captain had been having a carouse with the Governor. - -"Then we must be our own leaders. To arms! to arms! every citizen! It is -for your wives and children!" was the inspiriting cry. - -"You shall be our leader!" was shouted in one voice almost before the -Colonel had ceased. For Colonel Chouteau was not only admired for his -friendliness and good comradeship, but trusted to the last degree. - -Every man rushed for his gun and ran to the rescue, hardly knowing what -had happened save that the long-feared attack had come upon them -unawares. They poured out of the fort, but the flying women and children -were in the advance with the Indians back of them. - -Colonel Chouteau marshalled his little force in a circuitous movement, -and opened a volley that took the Indians by surprise. They fell back -brandishing their arms and shouting to their companions to come on. Then -the Colonel saw that it was no mere casual attack, but a premeditated -onslaught. Already bodies were lying on the ground struggling in death -agonies. - -The aim was so good that the assailants halted, then fell back to wait -for their companions. This gave most of the flying and terrified throng -an opportunity to reach the fort. For the wounded nothing could be done -at present. - -Now the streets were alive with men who had no time to pick out their -own families, but ran, musket or rifle in hand, to man the fort. Colonel -Chouteau and his brother Pierre were experienced artillerists, and -stationed themselves at the cannon. - -The Indians held a brief colloquy with the advancing body. Then it was -seen that an attack was determined upon. They approached the fort, -headed by several white leaders, and opened an irregular fire on the -place. - -"Let them approach nearer," commanded the Colonel. The walls of the -stockade and the roofs of the nearest houses were manned with the -residents of the town. A shower of arrows fell among them. Surprised at -no retaliation, the enemy ventured boldly, headed by Ducharme. - -Then the cannons poured out their volley, which swept down the foremost. -From the roofs muskets and guns and even pistols made a continuing -chorus. Ducharme fell. Two of the white leaders were wounded also. Then -another discharge from the cannons and the red foes fell back. The plan -had been to wait until almost dusk for the attack, but the incident at -the spring had hastened it. - -Ducharme had not counted on the strength of the fort, and he knew the -town was but poorly supplied with soldiers, so he had persuaded the -Indians it would fall an easy prey and give them abundant pillage. But -the roar and the execution of the cannon dismayed them, and many of them -fled at once. Others marched slowly, helping some of the wounded. - -General Cartabona came out quite sobered by the fierceness of the -attack. - -"Would it not be well to order a pursuit?" he questioned. - -"And perhaps fall into a trap!" returned Colonel Chouteau with a touch -of scorn. "No, no; let us bring in the wounded as we can." - -Gaspard Denys had been among the first to rush to the defence of the -town. Marchand had gone out with the party, and Mere Lunde was to care -for Renee. He had not stopped to look or inquire. He saw Madame Renaud. - -"Oh, thank heaven my children are safe! But Barbe! I cannot find Barbe!" -she cried. - -"And Renee?" his voice was husky. - -"She was with the Marchands. They were going to the woods. Oh, M'sieu -Denys, what a horrible thing! And we felt so safe. The Indians have been -so friendly. But can you trust them?" - -He was off to look after the wounded. A number were lying dead on the -field. No, Renee was not among them. They carried the wounded in gently, -the dead reverently. The good priest proffered his services, and Dr. -Montcrevier left his beloved experiments to come and minister to them. -The dead were taken to the church and the priest's house. - -All was confusion, however. Darkness fell before families were reunited. -Children hid away in corners crying, and were too terrified to come out -even at the summons of friendly voices. Colonel Chouteau and his brother -were comforting, aiding, exhorting, and manning the fort anew. General -Cartabona set guards at the gates and towers, for no one knew what might -happen before morning. - -Denys had hurried home as soon as he could be released. "Renee!" he -called. "Mere Lunde!" but no one replied. He searched every nook and -corner. He asked the Pichous. No one had seen them. A great pang rent -his heart. And yet--they might have hidden in the forest. Ah, God send -that they might not be taken prisoners! But Marchand was with them. He -knew the man's courage well. He would fight to the death for them. - -"I must go out and search," he said in a desperate tone. "Who will -accompany me?" - -A dozen volunteered. They were well armed, and carried a rude lantern -made of tin with a glass in one side only. They saw now that their fire -had done good execution among their red foes. The trampled ground showed -which way the party had gone, and they were no longer in sight. - -"Let us try the woods. They came by the way of the spring," said one of -the party. - -They found the body of Cardinal and that of an old man, both dead. They -plunged into the woods, and, though aware of the danger, Denys shouted -now and then, but no human voice replied. Here, there, examining some -thicket, peering behind a clump of trees, startling the denizen of the -woods, or a shrill-voiced nighthawk, and then all was silence again. - -They left the woods and crossed the strip of prairie. Here lay something -in the grass--a body. Denys turned it over. - -"My God!" he exclaimed in a voice of anguish. "It is Francois Marchand." - -He dropped on the ground overwhelmed. If he was dead, then the others -were prisoners. There was no use to search farther to-night. To-morrow a -scouting party might go out. - -They made a litter of the men's arms and carried Marchand back to the -fort, to find that he was not dead, though he had a broken leg and had -received a tremendous blow on the head. - -A sad morning dawned over St. Louis, where yesterday all had been joy. -True, it might have been much worse. In all about a dozen had been -killed, but the wounded and those who had fallen and been crushed in the -flight counted up many more. And some were missing. What would be their -fate? And oh, what would happen to Wawataysee if some roving Indian -should recognize her! As for Renee, if he had not wholly understood -before, he knew now how the child had twined herself about his heart, -how she had become a part of his life. - -Marchand's blow was a dangerous one. The Garreaus insisted upon nursing -and caring for him, but Madame Garreau was wild about the beautiful -Wawataysee. She knew the Indian character too well to think they would -show her any mercy, if she was recognized by any of the tribe. And -Renee, what would be her fate? - -General Cartabona was most anxious to make amends for past negligence. -The militia was called to a strict account and recruited as rapidly as -possible, and the fortifications made more secure. He took counsel with -Colonel Chouteau, who had the best interests of the town at heart. - -"We must make an appeal for the Governor's removal," insisted the -Colonel. "It is not only this cowardly episode, but he is narrow-minded -and avaricious, incompetent in every respect, and drunk most of the -time. He cares nothing for the welfare of the town, he takes no interest -in its advancement. After such men as Piernas and Cruzat he is most -despicable. Any Frenchman born would serve Spain better." - -"That is true. I will head a petition of ejectment, and make it strong -enough to be heeded." - -The dead were buried, the living cared for. Even the fallen enemies had -been given decent sepulture outside the town. And Gaspard Denys felt -that he must start on his journey of rescue, if indeed that was -possible. - -He chose two trusty young fellows, after shutting his house securely, -providing his party with ammunition, and provisions for a part of their -journey, as much as they could carry. He found the Indians had boats in -waiting on the Illinois River, and after proceeding some distance they -had separated in two parties, going in different directions. Some of the -prisoners had been left here, as they did not care to be bothered with -them. - -The one party kept on up the river. They learned there were some women -with them, and were mostly Indians. It was not an easy trail to follow. -There had been a quarrel and another separation, a drunken debauch, part -stopping at an Indian village. And here Denys heard what caused him -almost a heart-break. - -They had fallen in with some Hurons who had bought two of the captives. -An old woman was set free with two men and sent down the river. The -others were going up north. - -"It is as I feared, Jaques," he said. "They will carry Madame Marchand -to her old home as a great prize. Ah, if Francois were only well! But I -shall go on for life or death. I will not ask you to share my perils. -Wawataysee came from somewhere up by the straits. She ran away with -Marchand. She was to be married to an old Indian against her will. And -no doubt he will be wild with gratification at getting her back, and -will treat her cruelly. The child is mine and I must save her from a -like fate. But you and Pierre may return. I will not hold you bound by -any promises." - -"I am in for the adventure," and Pierre laughed, showing his white -teeth. "I am not a coward nor a man to eat one's words. I am fond of -adventure. I will go on." - -"I, too," responded Jaques briefly. - -"You are good fellows, both of you. I shall pray for your safe return," -Denys said, much moved by their devotion. - -"And we have no sweethearts," subjoined Pierre with a touch of mirth. -"But if I could find one as beautiful and sweet as Madame Marchand I -should be paid for a journey up to Green Bay." - -"It might be dangerous," said Denys sadly. - -He wondered if it was really Mere Lunde they had set free. It would be -against her will, he was sure, and it would leave the two quite -defenceless. A thousand remembrances haunted him day and night. He could -see Renee's soft brown eyes in the dusk, he could hear her sweet voice -in the gentle zephyrs, that changed and had no end of fascinating tones. -All her arch, pretty moods came up before him, her little piquant -jealousies, her pretty assumptions of dignity and power, her dainty, -authoritative ways. Oh, he could not give her up, his little darling. - -There was sorrow in more than one household in old St. Louis, but time -softened and healed it. And now the inhabitants congratulated themselves -on their freedom heretofore from raids like these. Towns had been -destroyed, prisoners had been treated to almost every barbarity. Giving -up their lives had not been the worst. - -But the summer came on gloriously, and Colonel Chouteau made many plans -for the advancement of the town. He was repairing the old house where -his friend had lived, and improving the grounds, and everyone felt that -in him they had a true friend. - -One July day three worn and weary people came in at the northern gate, -and after the guards had looked sharply at them there was a shout of -joy. Pierre Duchesne, whose family had lived on a faint hope, young -Normand Fleurey, and Mere Lunde, looking a decade older and more -wrinkled than ever. - -She sat down on a stone and wept while the sounds of joy and -congratulation were all about her. - -Who could give her any comfort? She suffered Gaspard Denys's pain as -well as her own. And though there had been adventures and hiding from -roving Indians, living on barks and roots, she could not tell them over -while her heart was so sore. - -She went to the old house, where the three had known so much content. - -"He will come back some day," she said, "but the child--" and her voice -would break at that. - -She heard Marchand had been very ill with a fever, beside the wounds. He -had come near to losing his leg, and was still a little lame, and very -weak and heartbroken. His wife had been torn from his arms when an -Indian had given him the blow on his head with a club, and there memory -had stopped. Though Mere Lunde would talk to no one else, to him she -told the sad story. And he had been lying helpless all the time -Wawataysee had been in such danger! Yes, he knew what would happen to -her now, but presently he would go up to the strait and never rest until -he had killed all who worked her ill. Oh, if she had fallen into the -hands of her old tribe! - -That thought was madness. But he understood what the courage of her -despair would be. She would not suffer any degradation, death would be a -boon instead. Ah, if he could have joined Denys! He knew the cruelty and -treachery of those whose hands she had fallen into. And the child! - -But it would be useless to start disabled as he was, although his anger -was fierce enough, and Denys was well on the journey. Yet it was -terrible to wait with awful visions before his eyes. He had seen both -men and women tortured, and the agonies prolonged with fiendish delight. - -Mere Lunde opened the house and cleared up the dust and disorder. The -garden was overgrown with weeds and everything was running riot. -Marchand insisted upon lending a helping hand here. Many an evening they -sat in the doorway wondering, hoping and despairing. - - - - -CHAPTER IX - -PRISONERS - - -The wild cry of "The Indians! the Indians!" had roused a small group -from their desultory enjoyment. They were pouring down in what seemed a -countless throng. Marchand had no weapon except his knife. - -"Run," he cried. "Make for the fort! Keep at the edge of the wood while -we can!" - -Wawataysee seized Renee's hand. The Indian girl was as fleet as a deer. -She could have saved herself, but she would not leave the child. They -had now reached the open. All was screams and confusion and flying -fugitives. - -A tall Indian was behind them with a club. Wawataysee gave a wild shriek -and the next instant stumbled over her husband's prostrate body. The -Indian rushed on. - -"Oh!" cried Renee in wild affright, standing still in terror, the flying -crowd like swirling leaves before her eyes. - -The sharp crack of a rifle made her spring back. Were both killed now? -But Wawataysee moved, groaned. - -"They have shot him now, my beloved!" She raised the bleeding head and -pressed it to her bosom. "Oh, he has been killed, I know. Why did I not -die with him? Oh, Renee--" - -Escape now was as impossible as succor. The Indian girl moaned over her -husband, and made a futile attempt to drag him back to the edge of the -wood to hide him. But suddenly she was violently wrenched away, and an -Indian with a hand hold of each began to run with them toward the river. -At last Renee fell and he had to pause. Meanwhile the firing from the -fort had begun with its execution. - -Wawataysee began to plead with her captor, who turned a deaf ear to her -entreaties. Renee was crying in a desperate fashion, from both fright -and fatigue. He raised his club, but the young wife clasped the child in -her arms. - -"Kill us both," she exclaimed, "as you have already killed my husband." - -"White man?" with a grunt. "Squaw woman. Make some Indian glad." Other -prisoners were being brought in this direction, and among them Mere -Lunde, who had started to reach the fort and bear the tidings to -Gaspard. - -"Oh, my dear child," she cried. "The good God help us. They are trying -to take the town." And she almost fell at their feet. - -Then they were marched on, the Indian guards behind with clubs and -tomahawks, now and then goaded by a light blow that would not disable. -The cries grew fainter, though they still heard the roar of the cannon. - -And now the sun was slanting westward and the trees cast long shadows, -the sound of the river fell on their ears mingled with the homeward song -of birds. The heat began to wane, the air was dewy sweet. - -It was almost dusk when they reached the boats, and they were bidden to -get in and were conveyed to the opposite shore. Here they were bound -together, two and two, with their hands fastened behind them. One Indian -was detailed to watch them while the others took the boats back. - -Ducharme's arm hung helplessly by his side, and the English renegades -began to upbraid him, while the Indians, seeing that no pillage was -possible and no gain could be made, drew away sullenly and began to -march toward the rendezvous, leaving some of their own badly wounded -behind. It was midnight before they rejoined the others. Then, fearing -pursuit, they started up the river again, rousing those who had fallen -asleep. All told they had barely thirty prisoners, and had left as many -of their own behind. - -Mere Lunde had been allowed near the two girls, and now they huddled -together in the boat. Renee had fallen asleep again. - -"You do not know where they will take us?" Mere Lunde inquired. - -Wawataysee shook her head. "They will go up the Illinois River," she -whispered. - -"Do you think they will not follow?" in a low, desperate tone. "Master -Denys and--" - -"Oh, _he_ is dead," with a heart-breaking moan. "I held him to my heart -and he made no stir, I kissed his cold lips and there was no warmth. But -for the sweet child I should have begged them to kill me too, so that my -spirit should be with his. If she could be restored safely, my own life -I would hold as nothing." - -"They have started ere this. Do not despair," and her lips were close to -the Indian girl's ear. - -"Then I shall thank the Great Spirit for the child's sake." Heaven grant -they might be rescued. - -The stir and lap of the river and the boats had a mysterious sound in -the weird darkness. Then the cry of some wild animal or a bit of wind -sweeping through the trees at the edge, here and there. The stars shone -out overhead. Mere Lunde dropped asleep also. But Wawataysee sat with -wide-open eyes. One moment she said to herself that he could not be -dead, the next his white face and half-closed, dulled eyes were against -her breast. She felt as if she must shriek and tear her hair, but there -was the Indian's self-control, and the thought of her companions who -might be made to suffer for her. But she could not go out of life for -her own satisfaction merely, unless it came to the martyrdom worse than -death, for the child was a sacred charge. Gaspard Denys would go to the -death, even, for both of them, and she was grateful for all the kindness -and countenance he had given her at St. Louis. - -They turned up a small stream, tributary to the Illinois. At noon they -drew the boats up to what looked like an impenetrable brushwood, and -disembarked, pulling in the boats and canoes. There was a sort of -trodden path through the wild shrubbery, and tangled vines overhung it. -Two of the Indians went ahead, the prisoners were driven next, and the -rest of the party brought up the rear. - -"Oh, where are we going?" cried Renee in affright, clutching -Wawataysee's dress with both hands. - -The girl shook her head. - -They were stiff from their cramped position in the boats and faint from -hunger. Now and then one received a blow and an admonition to hurry on. -At length they came in sight of a clearing, an Indian settlement, with -wigwams and a space planted with corn. Women were moving about over -their fires, children playing or stretched out in the sun. Skins were -tacked from tree to tree drying, and several women were busy making -garments and leggings, some young girls cutting fringes. It was a -pretty, restful scene to the tired travellers. - -An old man rose, it almost seemed from the earth itself. He was thin and -gaunt, hollow-cheeked and wrinkled to the last degree. From his attire -and his head-dress of feathers one could gather that he was the chief of -the small settlement. - -"Why all this warlike array and these prisoners?" he asked sharply. "We -are at peace with our white brothers. We have gathered in the remnant of -our tribe, we have few young braves among us, we are mostly women and -children. We have nothing to be despoiled of, we do no hunting save for -ourselves." - -"We want only a little food and rest, good father Neepawa. We will not -molest you and yours. We are going up to the Great Lakes. We have been -led astray by a white chief who promised us much plunder, but the town -was too strong for us. He has gone south to one of the English forts and -taken some of his followers, leaving the prisoners with us. Give us some -food and we will go on." - -Their request was acceded to, but with no special cordiality. The thing -they would most have liked was whiskey, but that was not to be supplied -at this simple Indian village. - -"Oh, if we could stay here!" sighed Renee. "Do you know where they mean -to take us?" and her eyes dilated with fear. - -"Only that we are going farther north." - -Wawataysee was fain to have some conversation with the Indian women, but -she soon saw that every effort was adroitly frustrated. Still, they were -fed abundantly and some provisions given the party. They reembarked late -in the afternoon and made their way down to the Illinois River and up -farther on their journey, until their provisions were gone, when they -were obliged to land again. - -After foraging about awhile they met a party of Indians and traders -quite plentifully supplied with whiskey. This led to quarrels and -disputes. A number of them were tired of having the prisoners to feed, -and had changed their minds about going north. They were roving Indians -who had no strong ties anywhere. Half a dozen decided to cast in their -lot with the traders. - -And now those going on picked out the most likely of the prisoners. Some -of the strong young men who would be useful in the capacity of slaves, -one half-breed woman who had astuteness enough to make herself of -account in preparing food and did not resent the small indignities -offered. - -As they marched down to the river's edge these were first put on the -boat. Then Wawataysee and the child. Mere Lunde started to follow, but -was rudely thrust back. - -"I must, I must!" she shrieked, struggling with her captor; "I must stay -with the child!" - -"Push off!" was the command. Three Indians stepped in and the boat was -propelled out in the stream. Then Wawataysee saw what had happened and -half rose, crying wildly that they should take on the poor creature -begging in her desperation. - -"She is ours! We cannot do without her!" - -The Indian pushed her down on her seat and uttered a rough threat. - -"Oh, what will they do with her?" shrieked Renee. - -A blow was the only answer. Renee fell into her companion's lap sobbing -wildly. Wawataysee tried to soothe and comfort her. But she felt -strangely defenceless. The half-breed she mistrusted. If there could be -some escape! She studied every point. They were no longer bound, but out -here on the river one could do nothing. - -So passed another night and day and a second night. No place of refuge -had been found in their brief landings. But they reached another -settlement, not as orderly or inviting as that of Chief Neepawa. Still, -they were glad of a rest. And now their captors seemed undecided again. -Two or three were already tired of the journey with its hardships. - -An Indian woman found a place in her wigwam for the two girls. They were -bound at night and their keeper had strict injunctions about them. - -The Elk Horn, as one of the most authoritative Indians was called, now -assumed the command. He had an idea, that he kept quite to himself, that -he might dispose of his prisoners to some advantage, to make up in part -for the ill-advised raid on St. Louis. There were many roving Indians -about whose tribes had been decimated by wars and sickness, and who -attached themselves to the English or American cause, whichever offered -the most profit, and who liked a lawless, wandering life and plunder. - -The keeper seemed kindly disposed toward the two girls and treated them -well, though she watched them sharply. Wawataysee had been careful to -talk in a patois of broken French and the Sioux that she had picked up. -She understood nearly all that her captors said and thus held them at a -disadvantage, but she could not learn what Elk Horn's plans were, if -indeed he had any certain ones. She admitted that she had left a husband -in St. Louis, for there were moments when she could not believe him -dead, and that this was the end of their tender love! And she was young, -she had just tasted of the sweetness of it all. - -There were hours of heart-break, when it seemed as if she could not -endure Renee's prattle, and would fain shake off the soft touch on her -arm, the kisses on her forehead, for the awful, desperate want of the -other kisses, the other clasp. And oh, how strong the longing was at -times to throw herself headlong into the river and let her spirit of -love fly to that other land, that the good God provided for His -children. - -Then she would think of Gaspard Denys and his love for the little maid. -He had seen enough of the cruelty of her race to know the danger. Ah, -why had the great All-Father allowed any human beings to become such -fiends? Up in her northern home she had heard things that turned the -blood to ice. And she had been so near the white settlements. - -Yes, she must care for the little one, keep with her, befriend her, try -to restore her to her dear protector. - -It was best to claim that Renee was her little sister by adoption. If -they could only get back! Why should they go up north? What was that -more than any other place! - -The woman at this would shake her head doubtfully. Yet Wawataysee could -see that she softened, and once she asked how far it was to St. Louis, -and how one could get there. - -Wawataysee's heart beat high with hope. Yet how could two girls reach -there alone? They might meet other Indian bands who would capture them. -There were wild animals. And they might not get a canoe. They had no -money. Still, she would escape if they could and pray to the good God to -keep them safe. Often and often she and Renee comforted themselves with -the sweet, brief prayers they had learned. And oh, where was poor Mere -Lunde! - -Several days of rest were vouchsafed to them. Then one day a company of -hunters joined them, among which there were a few white prisoners as -well. One, a young fellow, strolled about with evident curiosity, and -came upon the girls in a leafy covert near the wig-wam. They were given -a little liberty by their keeper on promising by the Great Manitou they -would not attempt to escape. - -"It would be of no use," said the woman. "An alarm would be given, and -you do not know your way anywhere. Then you might be beaten when you -were captured, and confined with thongs. Have patience. Sometimes all -the braves go off to hunt." - -The young man listened to the French with delight. Two of the other -captives were English and they had conversed mostly with signs and -Indian words they had picked up. - -Renee heard a stir in the leaves and started with a little cry. The hand -was raised for silence. - -"Pardon me. I will do you no harm," he said, with an appeal in his -voice. "It was the language that sounded so sweet to me. I am French. I -come from Detroit. But we fell in with a band of Indians and only three -of us escaped unhurt. We were made prisoners." - -"And we are prisoners, too," returned Wawataysee, with a sigh. "We come -from St. Louis." - -"St. Louis! How strange! I had meant to go there. I have an uncle, -Pierre Valbonais." - -"Oh, I know!" cried Renee with delight, as if she had found a friend. -"He comes in my uncle's shop; and Uncle Gaspard likes him. They sit and -smoke together." - -"And I am Andre Valbonais. We are companions in adversity, both -prisoners. Whither are you going?" - -Wawataysee shook her head. "We do not know, m'sieu." - -He laughed softly. "How natural that sounds! I am glad to hear a -familiar voice. Neither do I know my destination. It is one thing -to-day, another to-morrow. I do not think they know themselves. Black -Feather is chief of the gang. Now and then they quarrel. He killed two -Indians not more than a week ago who wanted to have their own way, but -he has not been cruel to us. Still, I dream of escape continually." - -"Ah, if we could compass it together!" and Wawataysee's beautiful eyes -went to his very heart. - -The woman came out with her beadwork in her hand. - -"You are not of our people," she said. "You have no right here. Go your -way." - -"Perhaps not. I am a sort of compulsory guest, but I will say adieu," -and bowing, he disappeared in the shrubbery; but his last glance said he -would find them again. - -"Who was it?" The woman looked from one to the other. - -"He is French, and a prisoner. The chief is Black Feather. But the young -man comes from Detroit." - -She gave a nod, as if she knew this much already. - -Elk Horn and Black Feather had cemented a friendship over their whiskey. -They would start the next morning. The word was given to be early astir, -and the woman roused them. - -"Every step takes us farther away," said Wawataysee regretfully. Yet -they would be in the company of Valbonais, who had resolved upon escape. - -She walked slowly down to the river's edge, holding Renee by the hand. -Black Feather caught sight of her. Her tall, lithe figure, her airy -step, the poise of the head, had a touch of familiarity. Ah, yes! and -the name. The pretty Firefly had been taken away from the strait by a -white trader, and her brother had been unsuccessful in his attempt to -capture her. Ah, if this was she, then he was truly in luck! - -He did not attempt to come nearer, but saw her and the child step into -the boat. Elk Horn took command of this. Black Feather gathered his -small force together, and his boatload of treasures of different kinds -with which he could purchase supplies, and the other looked on with -envy. - -All day Black Feather watched warily, more and more certain that this -girl would prove a treasure to him if he managed rightly. He would buy -her of Elk Horn. - -"What do you know about her?" he inquired. "She comes from St. Louis. -Who was her father? for she has Indian blood, and I am sure I know her -tribe." - -Elk Horn looked amazed. "I believe she married a trader and came with -him. I will ask her." - -"No. Cannot some of the men tell you?" - -"Oh, I think so. Have you been smitten with her charms?" - -The Indian nodded, but his face showed no emotion. - -They made a rude camp for the night and proceeded to cook some supper. - -"I have found out," announced Elk Horn. "A Frenchman, Marchand, married -her. He was killed, I believe, in the assault on the town." - -"Yes, I like her. I will buy her of you. Let us make a bargain." - -"And the little one?" inquiringly. - -"Oh, I do not want her. Yet she has some beauty, according to pale-face -ideas. But no, I will take only the Indian girl." - -They ate their supper of broiled fish, and then smoked in the gathering -darkness. Elk Horn deliberated. He had not exactly thought of selling -her, though it was often done with female captives. He had two wives -now, and did not want to be burdened with a third who was a helpless -young girl. Wives were for profit, in his estimation. - -Black Feather was as wary. He was not sure he wanted to marry her. She -might prove turbulent and headstrong. Half breeds were not as tractable -as Indian women. And they were not as strong. They might die on your -hands, and what, then, would one have for the bargain? - -"You will take the child. I will not part them. You can spare a trifle -more. She will soon grow up." - -Black Feather shrugged his shoulders and was silent. - -"Then there is no bargain," declared Elk Horn. "I will offer my wares to -some other chief. I think of one farther up in the Illinois country. But -our ways may be together a few days longer. It need not make ill -friends." - -Black Feather brought out some whiskey. He knew how to tempt his -brother. To have a supply of this for days would be more satisfying than -any future gain. For the present was the great thing to the Indian's -improvident nature. And so Black Feather made his bargain, including the -child that he really did not care for. Yet perhaps it would be better -not to separate them at present. - -Elk Horn had not slept off all his potion. His compeer was awake early, -and had laid aside the promised treasures for his inspection. Then he -called his men and stealthily manned his own boats. He judged rightly -that Elk Horn would not leave the place until the last drop of firewater -had been drained, and then it would take him a few days to get over his -debauch. - -"Come," he exclaimed roughly, at length. "Here is your portion--beads, -wampum, skins and whiskey." - -Elk Horn nodded and rubbed his bleared eyes. He looked at the goods and -they seemed magnified to his sight, so adroitly were they spread about. - -"Ugh! It is early," with a yawn. - -"I must be on my way. You can overtake me at night. We will share the -same fire, and I will have everything prepared for my brother. But I -wish you to rouse the two captives and have them ready also. You will -lead them to the boat, so there need be no disturbance." - -Elk Horn considered. Wawataysee might object to her new master. He felt -his part had been rather underhand, but was she not his property? - -They were a little surprised at the summons, and to be hurried off -without breakfast. The canoes were already out in the river. The larger -boat had a few men in it. Elk Horn put in Renee first. - -"Where are we going?" the Indian girl asked, turning toward him. - -"Up the river," roughly, in a thick, guttural voice. "Come, get in." - -She stepped aboard, not especially remarking the men. Then suddenly her -eye fell upon Valbonais, who greeted her with a joyous expression. Had -he been handed over to Elk Horn? She experienced a certain contentment, -and suspicion was allayed. - -But as they emerged from the shadow of the overhanging trees she saw -that all the faces were strange. She had not noted the newcomers in the -camp, having been kept in seclusion, and it also being her choice. Now a -chill of terror ran over her. Noting the aspect of two of the rowers -more closely, she saw to her dismay that they were Hurons. One man had -his head turned from her and bowed down. - -"Why do we go so early?" asked Renee. "And we have had no breakfast." - -"I do not know," tremblingly. - -"And why did Elk Horn stay on shore?" - -"Did he?" with a curious lift of the brows. - -"Oh, yes; I saw him. And these men--oh, where are Pierre and Jules? But -there is the young man who came and talked to us. Oh, Wawataysee, shall -we never stay anywhere again? How can we get back to St. Louis?" - -"Hush, dear; hush!" - -"But I am getting hungry. And I am so tired of sailing." - -She leaned her head down on Wawataysee's lap. Every moment the Indian -girl grew more terrified. True, Elk Horn and his men might come on. But -these Hurons! - -The boat glided along. The sun rose higher and made of the river a band -of gold and gems, where each little wavelet dazzled in strange colors. -They passed great plains where grass grew rank and waved in the wind -like another sea of green. Then a belt of pines or walnut, the first -standing stiff and strong, the others mound-like. - -The bowed figure had straightened itself and spoken to the men, but not -turned his face. Now he gave an order and the boat swerved in toward the -shore, grating a little on the pebbly beach. The other one in advance -turned also. Some food was distributed. He spoke in the Huron language, -and said they must make Bear Creek by night. - -It was dreadful to go out in the broiling sun again, but presently a -cooling breeze blew up. They passed a chain of boats well laden, going -down, the French sailors singing a merry lilt, and they gave each other -greeting. The shadows began to grow longer and a reviving fragrance was -wafted over from the shore edge. There were fields abloom with gay -flowers, then shrubby clumps, and when the sun went down they had neared -a little cove where one could see two rather dilapidated wigwams. Here -they were to stop for the night. - -The men began to make a fire, while provisions were brought out of the -boat. The two girls had been left alone, but now the chief--Wawataysee -knew he was that by his dress and a long black feather stuck through the -topknot of hair--turned to her. Oh, then she was quite sure she had seen -him before and her heart stood still. Yes, it was in that life she had -fled from. - -He addressed her in the Huron tongue; she answered irrelevantly in -French. A frown crossed his brow, but he handed them both out of the -boat with a firm grasp on the arm of each, and led them to the smaller -tent of the two. Some fir and hemlock branches had been thrown on the -ground and covered with a blanket. - -"You and the child will be safe here. You will be well guarded," with a -cruel little smile. "Some supper will be sent you. Compose yourself." - -She gave no sign of recognition. - -"You cannot deceive me, Firefly of the Hurons, even if some French blood -does course in your veins and you are tricked out in this attire. Your -brother's anger was kindled against you when you made him break his -word, when you ran off with a vile Frenchman. If you could have been -found justice would have been swift and sure. And now you will go back. -You will not be a wife this time, but a slave to your master and his -other wives." - -"I am a wife already," she answered proudly in his language, since it -was no use to feign. "I have been wedded a year by a priest, and the -Great Manitou will call down vengeance upon those who dare interfere -with his ordinances. And what right have you to bring me here?" - -"I bought you, Mistress Insolence. And I shall double my price when the -Chief Pamussac hears that you will be at his service." - -There was a little dagger lying in a treasure box at home. Her husband -had given it to her. If she had it here she would stab him to the heart. - -"Well, what is your reply?" he asked in a tone of triumph. "Your white -lord is dead. He cannot come at your call." - -"My reply is that we are both hungry and want some supper," she returned -in an impatient tone. "And then some more blankets," glancing -disdainfully at the pile of boughs. "You will hardly double your money -if you starve or maltreat me. I may die on your hands." - -Black Feather was more than amazed at the effrontery of the girl. He -stared at her, and his fingers worked as if he would like to clutch her -by the throat. Yes, what she said was true enough. - -Wawataysee knew well that an Indian despised any sign of weakness or -cowardice, and that to secure good treatment she must put on the -boldness of the soldier who does not fear even death, and from whom his -persecutors can extort no groan. - -"I will send you some supper. And guards shall be set to keep you from -harm," in a mocking tone. - -"Take my thanks for that," she flung out sharply. "I am mortally afraid -of the wild beasts of the forests. And I would like some sleep after -this hot, fatiguing day and the early start of the morning." - -"Oh, what did he say?" and Renee clung to her with desperation. "He was -so fierce I thought he would kill us. And why are we here? Where is Elk -Horn?" - -"My little darling, it seems that we have been sold and are to be taken -up north, unless the Great Manitou or the pitying Virgin listens to our -prayers and sends us rescue. It is a long way and something may happen." - -Renee began to cry. - -"Sweet, take courage. I do not know why, but I have a curious faith that -overrides my fears, that something will intervene. Elk Horn has dealt -treacherously, after the fashion of his tribe. Oh, my darling! I know -you will see Uncle Gaspard again, so dry your tears." - -"I am so tired of the journeying and those fierce men. Do you remember -the old Chief Neepawa and the women of the village? They seemed like -ours at home." - -"Ah, I wish we were there!" - -The supper came in, and, in spite of their fears, they were hungry. The -wind rose and the air was delightfully cool. Wawataysee spread the bed -and the child was soon peacefully asleep. The tent pole was a tree that -had been trimmed for that purpose, and the young girl leaned against it, -watching the flicker of the fire without and the pine torches that had -been lighted. Courageous as she had appeared, every pulse shrank and -throbbed. But there was death. She would be no man's slave. Only Renee -must not be left behind. She knew of poisonous plants for which there -was no remedy. Oh, would she have the courage to take another's life? - -She dozed at length, even in her uncomfortable position. Then something -roused her, a rending crash and a glare that seemed to be the world on -fire. She sprang up, and the next crash she knew was the storm that had -broken over them with the wildest fury. Were there cries of beast and -men mingled with it? The deluge seemed to sweep the ground, the trees -writhed and groaned and crashed in the fury of the gale. In the -intervals she could hear voices without. Presently the flashes of -bewildering light ceased, though the mutterings of thunder could still -be heard, and the trees were wind-swept by the fierceness of the mighty -power. One and another came down, but her tent stood the storm and was -sheltered by an angle of three trees. - -The gray light of morning began to dawn sullenly. She watched the faint -streaks stealing through the loopholes. Renee still slept. She went to -the flap of the wigwam and raised it. The rain was pouring in torrents. -There at her feet lay a body, the leggings and deer-skin breeches -ploughed by a curious zigzag streak, scorched and torn, and the blanket -shrivelled to fragments. Some figures were moving about like wraiths in -the dusky light. It was a weird picture. She was not at all afraid. She -was used to forest storms. - -One of the figures came nearer. "Ma'm'selle!" it said in a whisper. - -The familiar word was the sweetest music. She stretched out her hand. - -"I never saw anything so terrible. And you--lived? Others have gone. -Three are dead. One is drowned, and Black Feather--" Valbonais's voice -trembled. - -"Well!" with a long breath. Did she hope for his death? - -"He ordered the men to look after the boats. They had been drawn up, but -the ground was sloping, the rain a torrent, the blackness something -fearful save when the blinding blaze of light came. He was there -ordering, cursing, threatening. Then a tree crashed down and pinned him -to the earth. He is badly hurt about the legs, but has voice enough left -in him for four." - -Wawataysee shuddered. - -"Ma'm'selle!" in a breathless manner. - -"Yes?" with eager inquiry. - -"I am going to escape. There never can be a more favorable moment." - -"Oh! oh! oh!" she cried in a piercing tone. - -"I shall find my way to St. Louis. Ma'm'selle, if you and the child -dared and would trust me. For if I have heard aright, you are to be -taken to some chief up in the straits. And if you shrank from going----" - -"I shall never reach there alive. I know a swift, unfailing poison--" And -her words came out sharply. - -He gave her a half-horrified, half-entreating look. - -"It will be a hard journey. But if we should start now there is not much -chance of our being overtaken. Everything is in such confusion, and it -may be weeks before Black Feather is able to move about. We would follow -the river as well as we could, keeping out of sight if the other boats -come up, as they are likely to do. For the rest we must trust to the -good God. I shall take a gun. I have dreamed this over many times. And -if you will go----" - -"You mean to start now--in the storm?" - -"It will clear up presently, by noon. Meanwhile, I could plan all the -arrangements. Just now you are not a close prisoner. There is no telling -what may happen to-morrow." - -"That is true." Wawataysee studied the eager young face. The eyes had an -honest, pleading look. "I will trust you," she said. "Tell me what to do -when you are ready." - -The party were too terror-stricken to think much of their captives. -There were the three dead men lying out in the rain. They brought Black -Feather up to the miserable wigwam and bound up his bruised limbs, -finding that one leg only was broken. Black Feather had tabooed the -company of women on these journeys, and had a half-breed that he had -trained for a cook. Just now an old Indian nurse would have been very -serviceable. Once he roused himself from his pain and suffering, cursing -with true Indian passion. - -"Look if the girl and the child are safe," he commanded in threatening -tones. - -They had fared very well in the storm. Both they and the shelter had -taken no harm. - -Valbonais had gathered a sack of provisions and taken it down below the -camp some distance, leaving it there with the gun. He had been very -helpful all the morning, and his brief absence had not been noted. - -At noon the rain ceased, though it was nearly an hour before the sun -came out. Dinner was eaten, the boats were dragged up so as to be within -sight, and two or three of the Indians were kept busy about their -master. Two of the prisoners had been killed and one Indian. Black -Feather ordered them buried. - -Valbonais came to the door of the tent. - -"Give me one of the blankets," he said, "and send the child out to the -back of the tent when you can do so unperceived. Then wrap yourself in -the other and steal away. We will take the other side of the strip of -woods. It is not wide." - -Renee ran out presently and seized his hand. - -"Oh, are we going back to St. Louis?" she asked in a whisper, while her -eyes were alight with joy. - -"I hope so, little one. Come this way. Now you will not be afraid to -stay here. Do not utter a cry or sound. Wrap the blanket about you--so." - -Then Valbonais waited and waited. He made one journey to Renee to -comfort her. Then he saw Wawataysee struggling through an aperture she -had made in the tent, and ran to her assistance. - -"There were so many of them about," she said breathlessly. "I pinned the -tent flap down with a stout stick, so they may think I am asleep. Oh, -let us hurry. I am so afraid," and she trembled in her excitement, -though she ran lightly along. - -When they reached Renee he picked up the sack of food and slung it over -his shoulder, took the gun and one blanket, while Wawataysee wrapped the -other about herself, the gray making her more indistinct. Renee, wild -with joy, danced and skipped, and could not repress soft gurgles of -laughter as she kept on ahead of them. - -Valbonais found Wawataysee fleet of foot and graceful as a forest nymph. -The blanket did not seem to impede her skimming motion. The sense of -danger and the thought of freedom inspired her, and hope swelled anew in -her breast. Surely the good God would have Francois in His keeping and -let them meet again. - - - - -CHAPTER X - -IN THE WILDERNESS - - -The way was tolerably clear for a long distance, though shielded from -the view of the Indians by the intervening trees. When the strip of -woods failed them for shelter it was growing dusk, and, with the rise of -the wind, they could hardly have been distinguished from the waving -shrubbery. Valbonais paused and glanced back now and then, but no -pursuers were in sight. - -"Take it a little more moderately," Valbonais said. "We must not lose -sight of the river, or we may go astray. Though we have made a gain by -cutting off this point that juts into the stream. Ah, if we only had any -kind of a boat!" - -"They might see us on the river." - -"Hardly at night, and not very clear at that. We must make for that dark -line ahead of us, a bit of woods where we can camp for the night." - -It was quite dark when they reached it, and with some difficulty he made -a light. It was largely scrubby pines and the soil was sandy, dry in -spite of the tremendous rain, though evidently there had not been as -much here. Valbonais found a dead, dry branch of pine, which he lighted, -and began to explore. A short distance in was a pile of stones heaped up -four or five feet, evidently some burial spot. He glanced at its -capabilities, then began tumbling out the smaller ones that seemed to be -largely at one side. - -"What are you going to do?" asked Wawataysee. - -"Make a sort of cave. Oh, you will see," laughingly. - -"But let me help," she cried eagerly. - -"No, no! Or, if you wish, will you take my knife and cut some pine -boughs, the bushiest ones?" - -He had stuck his dry branch in the sand and piled a few others around -it. Renee stood by the fire, much interested. - -Valbonais tore out the stones until he had a hollow place like a great -chair. This he partly filled with the ends of the boughs Wawataysee had -gathered. - -"This will make a bed for you and the child. You will have to sleep -sitting up; but you ought to be able to sleep anywhere." - -"Oh, look! look!" cried Renee, clapping her hands. "A golden baby moon -down there in the sky! Is it not beautiful?" - -The sky was of deepest azure, the stars mostly to the northwest. One was -almost at the point of the crescent, as if lighting each other on the -way. - -"To-morrow or the next night it will be in her arms," said the young -fellow. - -"A baby star in a cradle," exclaimed Renee. "Oh, is it not wonderful? -What is that?" and she suddenly shrank toward her companions. - -"Only the cry of some night bird. These clumps of woods are not thick -enough to harbor wild animals, thank the saints! Now, ma'm'selle, you -sit here and try it." - -He had spread a blanket over the pine boughs. She sank gracefully into -the seat and leaned back her head with a certain air of luxuriance. - -"Oh, it is splendid!" in a grateful tone. - -Renee ran to try. - -Valbonais stirred out the coals, took a piece of dried fish from his bag -and some corn cakes and toasted both. They were hungry enough to eat -without any demur--in truth, enjoyed it in the perfect freedom from fear. - -"Now," he said, "you must settle yourself for the night. I do not think -we shall be molested. The small band will be busy with their chief and -repairing damages. Then I found some of them were very superstitious -about a woman being in the party." - -"But I was held only for the money I would bring Black Feather. -Otherwise I would have been looked upon as a useless burden. They -dropped off poor Mere Lunde on the way, and yet she could have done them -good service. Come, Renee." - -"I am not a bit sleepy," returned Renee. "It seems almost like being at -home with no fierce Indians about; only if Uncle Gaspard were here, and -M'sieu Marchand," she was about to add, but checked herself. - -"We must be up betimes to-morrow and on our way," Valbonais said. "It -will not do to loiter." - -"What will you do meanwhile?" inquired Wawataysee. - -"Sit here and tend the fire," he said. "I shall only keep enough to see -about in case I have to defend myself from any midnight prowler." - -He folded the blankets around the two, who certainly looked comfortable -in their rocky bed. He pushed his way through the thicket and ran down a -short distance, where he had command of the river. Nothing was going -either way. How sweet and tranquil it all was, after the terrors of last -night! He could have stayed there hours watching the stars come out -brighter and brighter, and the soft wind weaving strange melodies, -whispering of hope. - -Both girls were asleep when he returned. He sat down outside the -enclosure and leaned his shoulders against it. His gun was by his side, -his knife in his belt. He should have had a hatchet, too; that useful -article no one scarcely travelled without, but in the excitement he had -not thought of everything. Once he replenished the fire; then the fuel -gave out and he fell asleep. - -Nothing molested them. The singing of some birds in the thicket roused -him. He hurried to the river; all was tranquil, silent, with no enemy in -sight. Then he glanced down the long and arid space, where even grass -grew sparsely in the sandy soil that held no moisture. They must start -early so as to escape the mid-day heat. - -Wawataysee had risen and smoothed her ruffled plumes. - -"It is so beautiful!" she said, with heartfelt pleasure. "And, oh, to be -free from horrid fears! I slept so tranquilly. Did you have any rest?" - -"I forgot everything," and he laughed with a glad sound. "I was not a -very good watcher, perhaps, but I think any unusual noise would have -startled me." - -"You are so good! What would we have done without you?" raising her -beautiful, grateful eyes. - -He flushed warmly. "We cannot have much variety for breakfast," with a -gleam of amusement. "We may fare better to-night." - -He lighted the small fire again, collecting the charred embers. - -"Is it far to the river--and safe?" - -"Not much of a run," he answered. "The shore is shallow. I had a -reviving bath." - -"Come, Renee," and she held out her hand to the child. - -Meanwhile, Valbonais replaced the stones, wondering what hands had -brought them there in the first instance, and whether white or Indian -lay at rest beneath them. The girls were racing over the sand, bright, -fresh and glowing, and they partook of their simple breakfast and -started on their journey. The sun was not shining brightly, yet there -was no indication of rain. It was as if Nature was indulging in a -tranquil mood. Now and then a flock of birds went sailing over their -heads, and a squirrel out of place ran nimbly across the sand. - -"You have no idea how far it is to St. Louis?" their companion inquired. - -"Oh, hundreds of miles!" cried Renee. - -"Hardly that," said Wawataysee. "There have been so many delays. When I -came from the straits it was with the fleet, and I hardly took note;" -flushing as she recalled the delightful journey with her husband. "Yet -it seems to me we cannot have gone so very far up." - -"Is there any particular point that you can remember? There was the -Indian settlement where we met, little thinking then that we should be -mates on a return journey. Whether it would be safe to trust them----" - -"There was another halt, up a little stream. A settlement of Peoria -Indians, who are kindly and who have adopted many habits from the -whites, are more intelligent than most other tribes. That is down -farther still. It was our first stopping place. They were very generous -with provisions." - -"That will be one of our troubles. Still there will be small game to -shoot and fish to catch." - -Although there was considerable travel down the Illinois and some quite -well-appointed stations, they were far between. The fur and trading -fleets, if the lines of flat boats and canoes could be called that, -carried abundant provisions. Roving bands of Indians and parties of -adventurous hunters crossing the interior were the only travellers, and -they often stopped at the forts. - -They went farther out by the river. And suddenly there was a serious -surprise. Around a wooded bend came a canoe filled with Indians. Then -another and one of stores, and one figure was suspiciously studying the -shore. They had hidden among the trees, but were peering out cautiously. - -"Oh!" Wawataysee whispered, "it is Elk Horn and his party! See, he is -standing up, looking this way! O Mother of God, come to the assistance -of thy children!" and, sinking on her knees, she clasped her hands in -supplication. - -It was Elk Horn. He had sobered up and began to realize that he might -have made a better bargain with his prisoners. He had secured some more -arms and ammunition, and hoped now to overtake Black Feather. His glance -around was not indicative of the slightest certainty. He could not have -dreamed that the fugitives in the woods were the very ones he meant to -quarrel and perhaps fight about when he met Black Feather. - -Wawataysee scarcely breathed until the last canoe was but a dusky line -on the river. - -"We certainly are safe," Valbonais said. "Of course, they could not -suppose we had escaped." - -"I was so afraid they were in search of a landing place. Oh, if they had -stopped!" in terror. - -"Then we would have plunged farther in the woods, climbed trees even. I -do not mean to be taken a prisoner again; and surely, it will go hard -with me if you are, or hard with the abductor!" with a gleam of -resolution. - -"I am glad they have gone up the river," declared Wawataysee. "Now there -is no fear of meeting them." - -"If we could find some traders coming down----" - -"And trust them?" There was a troubled light in her eye. "Oh, now that I -know there are two people in the world, perhaps three, hungering for -revenge on me, I am sore afraid at times. I shall never see a Huron -without reading a menace in his eye." - -Valbonais glanced at her inquiringly. - -"You have heard part of the story. Let me join the tangled threads, and -you will the better understand my misgivings." - -"Let us go on now. Every hour is precious. And it will delight me to -listen to anything that has concerned thee," bowing low to her. - -So she told of her home and her affiliations with the French, being -related on her mother's side, and how she had always liked them the -more, while her brother was proud of his Indian blood and his chieftain -father. It was not until she had met and loved Francois Marchand and -plighted her troth to him that she was informed of her brother's -intentions toward her, and she prayed to him for the liberty of choosing -her own husband--admitted, indeed, that she had chosen him and could be -the wife of no one else. Then he had sent a messenger to say that her -escort was on the way with orders to bring him to her at once, and that -preparations were being made for a grand marriage. The trading fleet was -ready. She had only to step on board. At the first mission station they -had stopped for the priest to marry them. - -"So, you see, I could never, never be the wife of any other man. And -this chief has two wives. He told my brother that I should be first: but -Indian women do not always accept their dismissal so easily." - -There was a proud, steadfast light in her eyes, the bloom of courage and -constancy on her soft cheek. How beautiful she was! - -"And M. Marchand----" in a low tone, half inquiry. - -"Whether he is dead or alive I do not know. But I am his in death as -well as life," with a firmness that bespoke the utmost devotion. - -No, she would never let another wrest from her the holy bond she had -given him with her sweet maidenhood love. - -Night was coming on apace again. There was no cairn of stones to be -transformed into a sleeping chamber. Renee was very tired and a little -pettish. - -"Is there nothing for supper but these dried, hard cakes and the fish?" -she asked discontentedly. - -"And not even that for breakfast," Valbonais said lightly. "I must get -up early and shoot some game. There is no corn matured yet, so if we -came to growing fields the juicy ears would not be there. But I think I -can find something," hopefully. - -This night they had to have a forest bed, but he found a place soft with -a kind of dried turf, and spread out one blanket for pallet and left one -to cover them with. Then he kindled a fire at some distance, for he had -heard the cry of an animal. Farther off, then nearer, a stealthy -creeping along. He reached for his gun and glanced cautiously around. -Presently he caught the glare of two sparks of flame coming nearer, -crouching down, and he fired. - -"Oh, what is it?" Wawataysee sprang up in affright. - -"Some animal. I think he is dead, however." He lighted a torch and went -nearer, touched the creature with his foot. The shot had hit him -squarely, shattering his head. - -"Only a poor fox. Nothing for our breakfast;" yet he gave a cheerful -laugh. - -"Oh, I am glad it was nothing worse." - -"Do not dream of trouble. The good God will watch over us." - -She pressed his hand. She was glad to be near a lightsome, courageous -human being. - -Presently she stole back to her bed. Nothing else came to startle them. -When she woke again the sun was shining. Valbonais had kindled a fire, -shot and dressed some birds and was broiling them before the coals. - -"Was it a dream," she asked, "or did you really shoot in the night?" - -"Yes; and I have taken a part of the fox's coat. It may be useful for -moccasin soles before we are through." - -"Poor thing!" she said pityingly. - -The breakfast was delightful, after the two days of dried fish. Then -Renee found a patch of wild strawberries that the birds had not -discovered. They were dead ripe and luscious. Now they went on with -cheerful hearts, keeping the river in sight, but meeting nothing more -alarming than a herd of roaming deer. It was useless to fire at them; -birds would be more to the purpose. Toward night they struck a rude -cabin, made by hunters, as it did not look like Indian workmanship. -There had been a fire, but since that time it had rained. Inside was a -table and a bed of dried hemlock branches. - -"I think we had better stay," Valbonais announced. "It is a hunter's -cabin, evidently, and no one has been here for some time. There is a -little stream of excellent water. We will trust luck, at all events." - -They had some supper and were glad of shelter, for it came on to rain, -but no such terrific storm as that which had worked such havoc with -Black Feather and his party. The soft patter on the leaves was -delightful music, though for awhile the rustle of the wind seemed almost -like the advance of human beings. - -It was well they were under shelter, for it rained all the next day. No -one came to molest them. Valbonais caught such an excellent supply of -fish that he cooked some for the following day. If there was only any -ripe fruit! - -"It was late in May when we left St. Louis," Wawataysee said. - -"And now it is June. What day I do not know." - -"Let us count back." - -But their reckoning was not alike. They forgot, and then recalled -incidents that had marked days, then lost count again. Renee was -wretchedly tired. - -"Poor little thing!" exclaimed Wawataysee. "She has been very good and -courageous, but it is hard for her. And look at her poor little -moccasins--out to the ground." - -"Then Mr. Foxskin will serve us a useful purpose. I have nothing to -fasten them on with, but can tie them with strips of his skin to-morrow. -And yours?" - -She flushed. Hers were in the same plight. - -"But I can stand hardships better," and she smiled cheerfully. - -Renee slept all the afternoon and woke much refreshed. It had stopped -raining, and now they were full of plans for to-morrow. The moon came -out--the baby star had travelled nearly across it. - -"I am glad it is a new moon. We shall have some benefit of it the rest -of our journey," their guide said. - -"Oh, when shall we get home?" cried Renee impatiently. "Do you suppose -there have been any more Indian assaults?" - -"You have been remarkably favored at St. Louis. To the east, towns have -been burned, people taken captive by scores or murdered. And up north it -seems to have been a regular battlefield, with the French losers every -time. Think of the English holding our splendid Quebec and Montreal!" - -"I have been in Quebec, monsieur," declared Renee, with amusing dignity. - -"And France, too," added Wawataysee. - -Then Renee found herself quite a heroine in the eyes of Valbonais, and -was delighted to recall her experiences. - -They left the cabin and journeyed on; slept in the woods that night and -the next. There had been several feasts of berries; they saw some green -plums and green wild grapes, but neither were tempting. Now, some way, -it seemed as if they had lost their reckoning. The river certainly was -to the west of them. - -"And we must go southward." said Wawataysee. - -Their good fortune had failed them to-day. They had found nothing. They -were tired and hungry. And if they were lost!---- - -They turned into an opening. Here ran a clear creek, at which they -quenched their thirst. - -"Let us follow it some distance at least. It must go to the river. It -has quite a current." - -It suddenly widened out and grew larger as they went on. They glanced at -each other in dismay. - -"If it goes to the river, how can we cross so wide a stream? Could -either of us swim with the child? I think it would be better to go back -and cross where it is narrower." - -So they retraced their steps and found that it was fed by a rivulet on -the other side, almost hidden by the grass. Valbonais paused a moment to -enjoy the picture. Everywhere the most serene quiet. Songs of birds, the -call of some animal, the rustle of a deer and the brown, startled eyes -gazing at one. The green of the foliage with its light and varying -shades, the long stretches of wild grass dotted with various-colored -flowers, and here and there a silvery streak of sand like a silver -ribbon. - -On and on, the creek growing narrower. The man's eyes caught sight of a -young fallen tree. - -"I think I can bridge it over. Let me try this," and he dragged the tree -to the edge, stood it up, letting it fall with some force. It just -touched the opposite shore. - -"Now if I could find another. Why did I not capture a hatchet in my raid -on the Indians!" - -"The water is clear and deep," said Wawataysee; "too deep for one to -wade." - -"I could cross it with the child. Still I will see if there is not -another dead tree." - -This time it was a larger one. It took their united strength to raise -it, but it went straight across, making quite a promising bridge. - -"Would you dare?" He glanced at the Indian girl with an assurance of her -courage. - -"Would I dare?" She laughed melodiously. Then she looked steadily at it -a moment, started like an arrow from a bow and in a flash was across. - -"Oh, how beautiful! Can I try?" Renee clapped her hands, and her face -was brimming with delighted eagerness. - -"Wait a moment." Valbonais picked up the blanket and strapped his gun to -his back, convoying them over safely and depositing them on the ground. -"I wonder if we dare trust the child?" - -"Oh, I think so. It is such a step," Wawataysee answered. - -He went back to her. "You will not be afraid, little one? You can run -swiftly, and if you can keep a steady head----" - -"Yes, yes!" Wawataysee stood with outstretched arms and smiled. Renee -started with a child's audacity. The round logs, instead of the flat -surface, confused her and she hesitated, lost her balance and went down -with a cry. Valbonais sprang into the creek, but missed his first grasp -of her. The next brought her safely up and Wawataysee took her, -frightened and half strangled. Valbonais shook himself and laughed. - -"I would rather the clothes had not taken a bath. And she is wet, but -not injured." - -"It slipped and rolled," the child began, "and then I couldn't keep on. -Oh, dear! I am all dripping." - -"Roll her in a blanket. I am sorry it is so near dark and we cannot tell -quite which way to go." - -"We must keep on toward the Illinois," said Wawataysee. "Oh, and now I -think we came up a creek to the Peorias' lodge. What if this should be -the stream? Then we are nearer home than I thought." - -Her eyes shone like stars, her voice was freighted with joy, for her -thought was an inspiration. - -"I do not see how we could have gone out of the way," he returned, -knitting his brows. - -"The river winds. We may have shortened our journey a little by it. And -if we could find the lodge! Oh, I can't help feeling that we are all -right!" - -She was wringing Renee's garments and rubbing her with a blanket. -Valbonais pressed the water out of his, and tried to catch the -inspiration. - -"Now we must go on. Renee, you must keep the blanket about you," the -elder said. - -"But it is so warm. I am most smothered." - -"It will be cooler presently," in a consoling tone. - -"And I am so hungry!" she said, half crying. - -They had eaten nothing since morning. - -"We are all hungry. And if we can find those kindly Indians they will -give us a feast." - -"I hope she is right." Valbonais thought. - -They walked briskly onward for a while. The moon came up and shed its -silver radiance, setting the little stream with gems and showering the -trees with her effulgent flood. But to-night they could not enjoy -it--could hardly keep hope alive. - -"I am so tired!" Renee began to cry in earnest and stopped short. The -reaction had come and she shivered with a chill. Her slight frame was in -a collapse. - -"I will carry her," said Valbonais. "We shall get along faster." - -Wawataysee took the other blanket and the gun. The summer night was -growing chilly here at the edge of the creek. They waded through the -other stream. Renee's head drooped on the man's shoulder. She had -forgotten her troubles in sleep. But presently he had to pause with his -burden. - -"Let us sit here and rest awhile. And if you could sleep an hour it -would refresh you so much." - -Wawataysee leaned against a great tree bole that was like a column. The -relaxation was grateful. What with fatigue and hunger, nature was -overpowered and they all slept. When Wawataysee awoke the darkness -startled her. The moon had gone down. She stretched out her hand in half -terror. - -"You have had a nice sleep," began Valbonais cheerfully. "I, too, caught -a nap. It must be near morning. Do you feel that you can go on?" - -"Oh, yes! And the child? How strong and courageous you are!" - -He stood Renee down and she roused. "Oh, where are we?" she cried in -affright. - -"Here, dear." Wawataysee took her hand. "We are going to the Indian -lodge, where we shall get some breakfast. Can you walk?" - -"Why, yes. But I _am_ tired. Will we soon be there? And, oh, I wish it -was not so dark!" - -Still, she went on without further complaint. Darker and darker it -seemed. She gave her other hand to Valbonais. They both felt she lagged -a little. - -Suddenly a rosy light shot up in the east, and out of it great spires of -crimson and gold that set the heavens aflame. The stars hung low in the -northwest, and one by one dropped out of sight. Countless birds filled -the air with melody, and every tree and shrub shook out its fragrance. - -"Courage!" Wawataysee said, but her voice was tremulous with her -twenty-four hours' fast. And the walk seemed interminable. Her feet were -shodden with lead. - -Oh, what was this? Fields of young corn, shedding its peculiar fragrance -as the dew was vanishing in the drier air of morning. In the distance -hooded wigwams, a palisade to the north for shelter, blue-gray curling -wreaths going up from newly kindled fires. The barking of dogs and the -curious, pervasive sense of human life. - -It seemed as if an army of dogs rushed out. An authoritative voice -checked them, and an Indian came forward to learn the cause of the -alarm. Wawataysee sank down on a stone and the world seemed whirling -round, while Renee, crying, fell into her lap. - - - - -CHAPTER XI - -WAS EVER WELCOME SWEETER - - -It was, indeed, the lodges of the Peorias. The old chief, Neepawa, had -long since given up rambling life, and with many of the elder people -formed a settlement, where they had lived in peace with their white -neighbors and seldom been molested by their red brethren. They were more -industrious than many tribes. The main colony was about Ste. Genevieve, -but these adored their old chief and his wife and enjoyed the smaller -combination. They were kindly hearted and ready to hold out a helping -hand, and enjoyed their seclusion. - -Wawataysee had collapsed from fatigue and pure joy at the certainty that -they would reach St. Louis once more. Of the next few incidents she kept -only the vague remembrance of a dream. She was taken into one of the -lodges and water brought to her, and when the woman saw how utterly -exhausted she was, she bathed her face and combed her hair, then her -poor feet, and brought her a cup of warm spiced drink, put her in some -fresh garments and left her to sleep. Some other motherly hands had -taken Renee in charge, who chattered with all the Indian words she had -picked up and entertained her hostess extremely. - -Meanwhile, Valbonais had related to the old chief his own mishaps, his -meeting with Wawataysee and Renee in their captivity, the terrible storm -and the disaster to Black Feather and his followers that had led to -their opportunity of escape. Neepawa had heard of the attack on St. -Louis, and the signal repulse the marauders had suffered. He admired the -courage of the captives and was glad they had found a haven. From here -they could easily be returned to St. Louis. But Valbonais also learned -that they had narrowly missed an encounter with quite a large body of -Sioux and Winnebagoes, who would no doubt have taken them prisoners -again if they had followed the river more directly. They had made quite -a wide detour, it seemed, and to that they owed their safety. - -Renee seemed none the worse for her ducking and the fatigue when she had -been bathed, put in dry clothes and had a bountiful breakfast. The -Indian children and their plays interested her immensely. And there was -so much strange and new about the settlement and other things that -suggested her first Indian friend, Mattawissa. - -Wawataysee slept until past noon, when she awoke refreshed, and at the -first moment so surprised that she could not imagine where she was. But -the familiar faces of Renee and Andre Valbonais quite restored her. How -warmly sympathetic these children of nature were! Ah, what if they had -fallen into captivity again! and she shuddered. - -They talked of starting, but the old chief would not listen to such a -plan. - -"You have had enough of travelling in the night," he said. "To-morrow -some of our young men will take you down. Until then be content." - -So they smoked the pipe of peace and amity, and talked of the mighty -changes going on in the Continent, the new nation seeming a conglomerate -of many peoples, sweeping everything before them with their resistless -energy; of the towns springing up where different tribes had roamed -about and slaughtered each other. Almost eighty years ago Neepawa had -been born, when his race was ruler of nearly all the country. - -The travellers were really loaded with gifts the next morning. Two young -Indians were to row them down the river and return. With many thanks -they parted from their kind entertainers, with promises of grateful -remembrance. - -Renee could hardly contain herself. Anywhere else she must have danced -for joy. Of course, there would be Uncle Gaspard. And she almost -believed Mere Lunde must have found her way home, since they had -succeeded under such difficulties. - -And now familiar sights met their eyes. Here was the Missouri River -coming to greet her mighty mother; Fort St. Charles with its hamlets, -the bend in the river, the islands, the old town itself, the towers, the -fort, the palisade rendered much stronger since the attack; the bluff -with its rocky ledge, and then the wharf. - -Business was over. There was not much doing at this season, and nearly -every one had gone home. A few parties were out canoeing or rowing on -the river. The two Indians would return in spite of entreaties, and they -bid their white guests good-by. - -Down along the levee the two girls, holding hands tightly, ran with all -their speed. One hardly had a chance to see their faces. They turned up -by the Government House, where a group of men sat smoking and enjoying -the late afternoon coolness. Valbonais followed wonderingly. This was -St. Louis! What had Indians or British hoped to gain by attacking so -small a place, for he had thought of it as resembling Montreal or -Quebec. Up the Rue de la Tour--there stood the shop door open---- - -"Uncle Gaspard! Dear Uncle Gaspard! we have come back!" cried Renee, -flying in. - -It was not Uncle Gaspard, but Francois Marchand, growing white to the -very lips at the apparition that met his gaze. Was it a dream? He hardly -dared approach. The words died on his lips. - -Renee dropped the Indian girl's hand and rushed through the half-open -doorway. There was Mere Lunde in a chair outside, half hidden in the -nest of vines, knitting leisurely. That for the moment did not surprise -Renee. She caught the elder woman's shoulder and almost shook her. - -"Where is my Uncle Gaspard? Tell me at once! Where is he? Where is he?" -the child cried imperiously. - -Mere Lunde let her knitting fall and stared with wild eyes. "He!" she -exclaimed tremulously. "He! Have you not met him? He set out almost at -once for you. Oh, the good God and all the angels be praised! Now we -will be happy again. Oh, child, my heart has broken for you! How did you -escape?" - -All the color left Renee's eager face. She stretched out her hands as if -to clasp something. The eyes seemed dulled by some far, desperate gaze. - -"Uncle Gaspard! Gone!" she faltered. - -"Oh, did you not meet him? Child, he would not rest until he had set -out. Is it thy pretty prank, little one? Is he staying behind to tell -some one the story and then surprise us?" - -"He did not come!" she wailed, her heart throbbing with passionate -grief. "We have not seen him. Oh, mere, mere, the cruel Indians have -captured him! And I was so sure." - -She sank in a little heap at the woman's feet. After all the dangers and -alternations of hope and fear, the fatigues, the last blow had been too -much for her. Mere Lunde gathered the limp form in her arms, then laid -her on the rustic settle, chafing the small hands and bathing the face -with a fragrant concoction of her French skill. She drew slow breaths -presently, but did not open her eyes. - -Francois Marchand gazed on his wife, speechless with a curious doubt, as -one in a dream. Then he came nearer. She was thinner, the rose bloom had -faded from her cheeks and there were dark shadows about her eyes. But -oh, surely it was no ghost come to mock him! - -He took her in his arms, and if the shape had melted into vague -nothingness he would not have felt surprised. But it did not. It was -soft flesh. He rained kisses on brow and cheek and lips; her sigh was a -breath of perfume. Was it moments or hours? - -"Thanks be to God and our good friend Gaspard!" he said presently. "Oh, -my sweet blossom of northern wilds, my treasure, my queen, how I have -feared and wept for thee! What lonely days! What sleepless nights! And I -bound to the bed by wounds and fever and a broken limb, knowing thou -wert in the hands of cruel enemies and I helpless to succor thee. And -that brave soul came to thy rescue! How can we ever thank him enough?" - -She could not speak at first, only return kisses for kisses. He found a -seat and drew her close in tender embrace; felt the throb of the heart -against his, though the whole slim figure was full of languor. - -"And I was never certain if you were dead or alive. When they dragged me -from you at the edge of the woods there was no motion to assure me. All -night I dreamed of you, torn, perhaps, by some prowling beast, or lying -there stark and stiff." - -"It was Gaspard who found me, who placed me in wise care and then set -off. Oh, let us go and thank him. Every moment's delay is ingratitude." - -"Is he not here?" She raised her head from his breast. "We have not seen -him. We owe our escape and guidance to another captive--a young fellow -considered a slave. But--we have not seen M. Denys." - -"Heaven send him safely back to us, then! He is a brave, noble friend. -He believed you might be taken up to the straits and the child would be -with you." - -She shuddered. She could not mar this happy moment by a relation of the -dreadful fate which for a few days had hung over her and made her prefer -death. Ah, how much harder the resolve would have been had she known of -a certainty that her husband was living! - -"After much tedious journeying we reached the Peoria settlement, back -from the Illinois River, where the old Chief Neepawa governs a remnant -of his tribe. They were most kindly and gave us rest and food until we -were quite restored. Afterward they brought us home. Oh, my husband, my -lord, my lover! To be with you once more is enough. I would have -suffered twice the hardships and dangers for such a blissful end!" - -He felt her frame tremble in his arms and pressed her closer in a -transport of tenderness. Ah, the perfect content! - -Then she bethought herself. - -"The child," she said, awakening to the more generous flow of sympathy -that love for the time had overwhelmed. "The poor little Renee! She has -looked forward every hour to meeting him again, and the disappointment -will be bitter. It is more like a woman's love than a child's, though -she is innocent of the deeper strivings of maidenhood. Come, let us go -to her." - -Mere Lunde had to give the young wife a warm welcome. The tears of joy -filled her faded eyes. - -Renee lay on the settle, sobbing. Wawataysee bent over and would have -taken her hand. - -"Go away! go away!" she cried imperiously. "I do not want you. You have -_him_ to be glad with and I have no one, no one!" - -The pathos of the tone was heartrending. - -"Renee, my little dear, Francois is so glad." - -"Go away!" She turned her face to the wall and slapped impatiently with -her hand. "I will not listen. The Indians have Uncle Gaspard, I know." - -Mere Lunde beckoned them. "She is very wilful at times, and now her -heart is sore. But the good saints have led you both back. He has been -north many a time and come home unharmed." - -"They will kill him this time!" the child almost shrieked. "There was -that fierce Black Feather! Oh, he will never come back, never!" - -The old woman waved them to the doorway and they turned and passed out. -All the garden was abloom and sweet with the fragrance of growing fruit, -tangled vines and flowers. The pale heavens had lost the light of day, -and the blue of the night was hidden by a soft gray vagueness. Birds -were singing good-night songs to each other and to sleepy nestlings. -Marchand, with his arm around his wife, drew her into a secluded spot. - -"Black Feather was a Huron," he said, "mean, tricky, avaricious. Surely -you were not in his hands?" and his grasp tightened. - -"Only a little while. Oh, I would never have been taken alive to the -straits! And this young Valbonais was their captive. Oh, where has he -disappeared to? He had an uncle in St. Louis, whither he was coming when -they captured him." - -"Tell me the story. I have had hundreds of fears for you, my darling, -yet I kept trusting the All Father." - -"Oh, not to-night!" she pleaded. "Is it not enough that I am restored, -and that no evil has happened to me? Let us not mar the joy of this -meeting." - -So they sat until the white veil in the sky cleared away and all was a -heavenly blue, with stars shining so bright they took on beautiful tints -and twinkled as in a fairy dance. To the reunited hearts there had never -been such a night of joy and splendor. - -Renee sobbed herself to sleep, worn out with the pangs of -disappointment. Mere Lunde would not disturb her. She set out a little -supper for the other two, and they talked in low tones. Mere Lunde told -of her wanderings, and that she had almost died of hunger and thirst. - -"We who were so sadly bereft resolved to join forces," explained -Marchand. "Gaspard Denys ought not lose everything by his generosity. So -I have watched the trade and tried to fill his place as best I could, -and Mere Lunde has kept the house, both praying and hoping. Several -prisoners have escaped or been left by the Indians, who really did not -want them and were afraid to practise the cruelties of other days lest a -severe punishment might overtake them." - -Renee was still dejected and inconsolable the next morning, and would -receive no overtures from Wawataysee. The young wife understood. Not -that Renee would have wished her any ill, but with the unreason of -feminine things she could not endure the sight of their happy faces, the -sound of the tender words they exchanged. She went out in the corner of -the garden and made her moan, and would not be seen of the friends that -came to congratulate the returned captives. - -Nearly noon a young man paused at the gate, looking a little uncertain. - -"It is Andre Valbonais!" cried Wawataysee, with delight. "I will bring -him in and you must thank him with your full heart." - -Valbonais was bright and smiling, his ragged clothes, that scarcely held -together, replaced by a comfortable suit, if not new; his hair trimmed -and in good order--a very attractive young fellow now, certainly. - -"We were going to set out on a search for you," Wawataysee began. "In -some unexpected manner we lost sight of you last night. How did you -fare?" - -"Oh, not badly," with a cheerful smile. "I knew you would go to friends -who would be overjoyed to see you, and I wandered down a street, trying -to find an inn, for I was not sure I would be allowed to stop in the -street all night. So in my inquiry I met some one who knew my uncle, -Pierre Valbonais, who, it seems, is at work in your great mill, and who -lives beyond the court-house, in the Rue des Grainges. My faith, but you -are a very hospitable folk," and his eyes shone with a joyous light. -"This M. Pion would give me some supper and a bed, and we talked over my -adventures smoking our pipes." - -"I am glad you found a friend. It was our desire to take you in. And -your relative?" with a slight hesitation. - -"I found my way to the mill, and the uncle greeted me cordially. There -is an aunt and some cousins, it seems, and I am to make my home with -them for the present. Moreover, I find there is plenty of work to do and -I shall be happy. Where is the little maid?" - -Wawataysee explained Renee's grief at finding her uncle had not returned -from his search. Then M. Marchand took him through to the shop, and was -so earnest in his gratitude that it touched Valbonais deeply. - -Renee came out of her garden corner as he was going away. Her pretty -eyes were swollen with weeping. - -"Oh, little one, you were so brave on the journey, amid all the -hardships, that you must not lose heart now! And I hear your uncle has -made many trips with the traders, so he knows about the Indians and is -not likely to let them take him unawares. He will return, surely." - -She cast her eyes down and made no reply. She would not be comforted -even by him. - -The Renauds came over in the afternoon, and though the girls followed -her to the garden, she would not be amused with their chatter. What did -she care about a new frock or a tea-drinking on the green by the fort, -or games and plays? - -"She is very disagreeable and cold," said Elise to Sophie as they were -walking home. "I suppose because she has a 'de' before her name she -thinks she can put on any airs. But I am older and shall have a lover -first. Of course, M. Denys will return. He always has before." - -So everybody thought. And a child cannot be unhappy forever when every -one joins to dispel her sorrow. She thawed out very slowly. Andre hardly -knew what to make of her, she was so grave and indifferent. - -He had found employment in the mill and felt quite elated. Madame -Valbonais liked him very much. There was one son a trapper, though he -did not take very long journeys. Then there were two bright girls who -were not averse to having such an attractive cousin. - -Through them he came to know the Renauds, and Barbe he thought extremely -winsome. Before a fortnight had passed he was in the merrymakings and -dances, and having a most enjoyable time. It did not trouble him now -that he had been in more than one peril of his life. - -The lieutenant-governor who had proved himself so unworthy was recalled. -M. Cruzat was fortifying the town more securely than it had ever been, -but for some time any body of Indians going back and forth roused a -feeling of distrust and fear. Pleasure parties were careful not to trust -themselves too far away. - -Mere Lunde begged Wawataysee to remain with them, as M. Marchand was -taking charge of the business. When Mattawissa came in with her pretty -work and various articles, many of which went down to New Orleans, she -and the young wife made very good friends. - -"She will take every one away from me," thought the child with a -swelling heart, and she grew more reserved. Even Mere Lunde had to yield -to the sweetness of Wawataysee. Sometimes she sang really beautiful -Indian songs and described vividly the dances and entertainments, though -there were many in which only old women were allowed. - -July began to ripen fruits and fill the farmers with joy at the prospect -of abundant crops. But Renee counted the weeks sadly. She was growing -pale and thinner, and roamed about like an unquiet ghost. She would not -play with the children, but rambled desolately by herself and -occasionally stole down to the end of the stockade and ventured out to -see her grandfather. He seemed nearly always at home now, sitting -outside his neglected-looking cabin smoking his pipe and patching his -clothes or making moccasins, on which he put stout soles of skin. He -would nod and occasionally push a stool to her, which was the round of a -log, and motion her to be seated. - -One day he said sharply: "Has anything been heard of Gaspard Denys? Some -traders have come in." - -She knew that. They had been at the shop. - -"They have not seen him," she admitted sorrowfully. - -"There would be news if he had been killed." - -"Oh! oh!" A sharp pang went to the child's heart. To have another put -her dread into words was like confirming it. - -"That might be," said the old man. "The pitcher may go to the spring -without spout or handle, but it gets an unlucky knock at the last." - -She was silent. - -"He made me give you to him. He bound me with signing a paper. Then if -you are his, what he has comes naturally to you. There is the house and -the garden. And the shop, with all its stores. Gaspard Denys has a -strong box. There may be gold and silver in it. It belongs to you." - -Renee stared at him. His skin was browner than ever, and his face -wrinkled in every direction. His hair was unkempt, his eyes were so -squinted up that they looked like two sparks merely. - -"Oh," she cried, "what should I want with it all, and no Uncle Gaspard?" - -"It will be a good dot. It will make you a good marriage when the time -comes. And they must not get it away from you." - -"They? Who?" in surprise. - -"That man and his half-Indian wife. Ah, I have seen people before, men -who can plan adroitly. And I tell you now he shall not have it. When the -time comes I shall turn him out neck and heels, and we will see! I shall -not have you cheated out of your rights, Renee de Longueville." - -"I don't understand. If it is M. Marchand you mean----" and she eyed the -old man resolutely. - -"Who asked him to come in there? Gaspard Denys locked up his place, and -he and that old woman opened it. They had no right, I say." - -He struck the flat stone beside him with his fist, but it did not seem -to hurt that member. - -"It was Mere Lunde's home. And she looks for him every day. Oh, if word -came that he was dead we should both die of grief!" - -Her lip quivered, her eyes filled with tears. - -"Bah! No one dies of grief. And I will keep you out of that man's -clutches. I am your grandfather and I have some rights." - -Renee shuddered at the fierce old man. She had used to feel afraid of -him, but it seemed of late that she did not fear anything, the darkness -of the night nor the thunder storms, when it appeared as if the town -would be hurled into the river. What if he should really claim her, -if--if--Oh, she would a hundred times rather stay with M. Marchand, even -if he was kissing and caressing Wawataysee half the time. - -"I must go," she said, rising. She had been trying to esteem him a -little now that she was so lonely, but all the endeavor was like water -spilled on the ground, and he had broken the bowl. - -"You will come again. No one shall cheat you out of your rights," -nodding vigorously. - -She turned away. First she thought she would walk along the river. It -crept lazily to-day, yellow in the yellow sunshine. But when she reached -the Rue Royale she turned into that. She did not care to pass the -Renauds'--why was it that she could not love any one any more? that her -heart seemed like lead in her bosom? So she went up to the Rue de -l'Eglise straight on to the little church. She had not been Saturday -afternoons of late. She knew the catechism and the prayers, and the -children's drawl seemed to spoil it for her. Sometimes people prayed for -things and they came. Well, she was praying all the time for Uncle -Gaspard's return. Maybe it ought to be asked for in the church. She -crept in softly. - -The little old place was very, very plain. Even the altar and the high -altar had but few decorations at this time. There was a candle burning -and it shed a pale glow. There was a basin of holy water, and she -reverently made the sign of the cross with it. Then she knelt down on -the floor and clasped her small hands. - -"O holy God," she prayed, "O Christ, son of the holy God, listen to my -sorrow, I beseech thee. Send back Uncle Gaspard, for my life is so -lonely without him. Keep him safe from all danger." - -It seemed so different to pray here. She would come every day now. This -was God's house. - -It was strange and she did not understand it a bit, but her heart felt -lighter. The old garden was gay with bloom. Chatte came to meet her, -arched his back and waved his tail like a flag, looking at her out of -green, translucent eyes with a black bar straight up and down. She -stooped and patted him and he began to purr with delight. He was as fond -as she of sitting in Uncle Gaspard's lap. - -Mere Lunde was pounding green grapes, great, luscious wild grapes, into -a mash. Then she would strain out the seeds and make a most delicious -jam with maple sugar. How fragrant the room was with the spicy scent! -She went up and kissed her tenderly, and tears came to the woman's eyes -at the unexpected caress. - -Wawataysee sat by the open window doing some beautiful beadwork. M. -Marchand was busy sorting goods and piling them up on the shelves, and -whistling soft and low like the wood thrush. Well, why should he not be -happy, now that he had Wawataysee back? And she had been almost angry -about it--no, not angry, but hurt, and--perhaps she was selfish. Ah, think -of her grandfather being here and turning things about, making it dismal -and wretched! No, he should not order the place and turn out these two -who had been so kind. Perhaps the Governor would know what was right. -She would pray it might never happen. That would be another petition. -And without understanding how religion comforted, she was happier. - - - - -CHAPTER XII - -HER ANSWER - - -It was strange how petitions grew. Renee used to walk gravely up to the -old church--the door was never fastened--and slip in and say her prayer. -Once a woman came who had lost her little baby. - -"Oh," she said, when they had exchanged sorrows, "I think thou wilt be -comforted. Gaspard Denys has come back times before. Many of our -husbands and brothers have returned. But my little baby cannot return. I -may live many, many years and grow old, and in all that time I shall -never see him!" - -Yes, that was a great sorrow, and a long waiting. - -August came in. Pears and plums were ripening, and various articles were -being put by for winter use. Sometimes the season was long and cold, and -it was well to be prepared. Men worked in the fields to gather the early -crops, and the young people had merry dances at night. The days began to -grow a little shorter already. - -Some one said as she stepped out of church one afternoon: "There is a -small fleet coming down the river. Pierre Chouteau expects one of his in -next week, but that will have a dozen or more." - -"That is only Latour's. He has been up to St. Charles," was the answer. -"They have a great abundance of corn this season." - -Next week! Renee's little heart beat with a great bound of joy. And -after that boats would be coming in weekly, Indians with canoes full of -furs, dried venison and fish from the lakes. If one of them brought -Uncle Gaspard! - -She went down to the rise of ground, almost like an embankment, long -since worn away. She could see over the small throng. The first boat was -moored; it had bales of something. The second had some passengers, women -among them. A man was standing up, and suddenly he waved his hand. Who -was it? It was waved again. - -"Oh! oh!" She dropped down. All the air was full of sparks, and the -river seemed turning round and getting mingled with the sky. When the -mist cleared away she saw a confused throng of people, some leaping -ashore, and a hurly-burly of voices. Had that brief vision been a dream? -She felt strangely weak, then she laughed without knowing why and her -eyes overflowed with tears. - -A tall form came climbing up the hill with long strides, and then she -was clasped in strong arms, she felt kisses on her forehead, she was -lifted off her feet. - -"Little one!" the voice said; and only one thing in her after life -sounded as sweet. "Little one, oh, thank heaven you were saved!" - -Then they sat down on the grass the sun had scorched into a dried mat. - -"Did you come thinking to meet me?" - -"I meant to come every time after this to meet the boats. Oh, you are -alive! The fierce Indians have not killed you." - -How her voice trembled with emotion, and her hands were clasped tight -about his arm! - -"They have not had much chance." How good it was to hear the old -cheerful laugh. "And Wawataysee is safe, as well? Did Marchand recover? -I have heard no news of the dear old town, but of you I heard long ago, -and it made my heart as light as a bird mounting up to the sky. Perhaps -it will please even your gentle heart to know that Black Feather, the -treacherous Indian chief, is dead. You see, I hardly knew which -direction to take and went wrong several times. Then I heard Elk Horn -had sold some female captives to Black Feather, who had taken them up -the Illinois River. When I reached an encampment where there had been a -terrific storm I heard Black Feather had been seriously injured and had -finally been moved to an interior encampment, where there was a medicine -man. So, after a search, I found them. In spite of the medicine man the -chief had died, and they had given him a grand funeral. His followers -had dispersed. But I was told that, after the storm, some captives had -escaped and he had been so angry he had two Indians put to death. So -then I retraced my steps. Many a time I wondered if I should find you in -the forests, dead from hunger and fatigue. Whether you had gone down the -river--but you could not do that, unless some friendly boat had offered. -I passed some lodges where they had not known of any wanderers, and at -last met two Peoria Indians, who said the three escaped captives had -reached them and been taken to St. Louis." - -He pressed the child closer, looked down in the fond, eager eyes that -were shaded in a mist of emotion, and felt the eager grasp of the small -hand. How much she cared, this motherless and well-nigh fatherless girl. - -"It was Wawataysee they wanted, but your fate might have been as bad. -They might have left you somewhere to starve--" Yet did not the pretty -child's face give evidence of coming beauty? only to an Indian this was -not the rich, appealing beauty of his own tribes. And the present was so -much to the red man, the triumphs, satisfactions, joys and revenges of -to-day. - -"Oh," she said, with a long, quivering breath, "I am so glad! so glad! -It runs all over me," and she laughed softly. "And you will never go -away again? They are building the wall all around the town and putting -sharp-pointed sticks through the top. The children do not go out on the -prairies any more; they are afraid." - -"I do not think we are in much danger. Farther to the east the Indians -are joining tribes, stirred up by the English fighting the colonists. -But we have nothing to do with their quarrels. And this attack was a -mortification to them. Few, if any, of our friendly Indians were -concerned in it. Oh, little one, thank God that you and Wawataysee are -safe." - -"But M. Marchand thanks God for Wawataysee!" she said, with a touch of -resentment. - -He smiled at that. When she was older she would demand every thought of -one's heart. - -"Shall we go down now?" - -"Mere Lunde will be so glad." She arose and hopped gleefully on one -foot, holding his hand as she went part of the way around him. The last -rays of golden light in the sky made bewildering shadows and gleams -about her and she looked like a fairy sprite. - -The town was already lapsing into quiet. No one had need to grumble at -the length of working days in this pastoral town and time. Others had -come in from journeys, and in more than one home feasting had begun. The -boats had been fastened securely, the river was growing dark with -shadows, and purple and gold clouds were drifting across the heavens. - -"Let us go this way," Renee said. - -This way was up to the Rue de l'Eglise, and she turned into that. Here -and there a friend caught his hand and he had to pause for a few words -of cordial welcome. - -"What now, little one?" as she drew him aside. - -She looked up with a sweetly serious expression, though a flush of -half-embarrassment wavered over the small face. - -"I went to church every afternoon to say a prayer for you that you might -come home. I thought the good God would rather hear it in His own -house--" - -"Did you, my little darling?" he exclaimed, deeply touched. - -"And now"--she hesitated--"I think I ought to go and thank Him. Men do -that when the Governor grants their wishes." - -"Yes, yes! And I will go, too." - -Ah! there was much to be thankful for, and he felt a little -conscience-smitten that he had not made more of a point of it. - -The church was quite dark, with a candle burning on each side of the -high altar. She led him clear up to the chancel steps, and there they -knelt together. The little girl might not have understood all the fine -points of belief that the world had fought over since Christ had died -for all, and was still warring about, but her gratitude was sincere and -earnest if not spiritual, at least in a devout spirit. - -Gaspard Denys was moved by something he had never experienced before, -and touched by the child's tender, fervent faith. - -Coming out, they met old Pere Rierceraux, leaning on his cane. He had -been godfather to little Mary Pion, the first child baptised by Father -Meurin when there had been no church at all and only a tent in the -woods. The rude little building was a temple to him, and thither he came -every night to see that no harm was likely to befall it, and commend it -to the watchful care of God. - -"It is Gaspard Denys!" he said in a voice a little broken by the weight -of years. "So thou hast come home from perils and hast devotion enough -to thank God and the saints for it. There will be merry hearts to-night, -quite unmindful of this. Ma'm'selle, I have noted thy devoutness also. -The Holy Mother have thee in her keeping." - -It was quite dusk now and the houses were lighted up. At the Pichous' -they were playing already on the fiddles. Then there was this turn. - -The good news had preceded Denys. The household had come out to meet him -and there was great joy. Mere Lunde had already set a little feast, and -they wondered at the loitering. - -There had never been any welcome like this in his life before, no one to -be greatly glad when he came or sorrowful when he went. It was like a -new life, and his heart expanded, his pulses thrilled with a fervent -joy. The beautiful Indian wife who smiled at him and then turned her -eyes to her husband with an exquisite tenderness; the little girl whose -gladness was so true and deep that her eyes had the soft lustre of tears -now and then, and smiles that went to his heart; Mere Lunde's happy, -wrinkled old face, in her best coif and kerchief; and presently, -neighbors coming in with joyous greetings. For in those days they shared -each other's joys and sorrows. - -The remembrance of the cruel May day vanished. Flowers were growing over -the graves of the dead in the little churchyard. Many of the captives -had found their way back; some, indeed, lay in silent places far from -kindred. They did not forget, but they were a light-hearted people, and -their religion was not of the morbid, disquieting kind. Conscience with -them had a few salient points of right and wrong, the rest did not touch -their simple lives. - -There was a gay autumn, with wine-making and brewing of spiced or plain -beer, of meat and fish salted and dried, of corn gathered and wheat -ground and the thrifty preparations for winter. All the meadow lands -were abloom with autumnal flowers, the trees were gorgeous in all the -coloring sun and winds and dew could devise, and the haze of the -resplendent Indian summer hung over it all. There were nutting parties -to the woods, but they were cautious and went well protected. - -Trappers and traders came in, and the talk was of wilderness trails and -Indian villages friendly and unfriendly, of deer and mink and otter and -beaver, sable, marten and beautiful fox and wolfskins from the far -north. Many of the fleets went straight down the river to New Orleans, -others came up from there with beads and gewgaws and spun silk and -threads of various colors, calicoes and blankets and coarse thick stuffs -for tents. There was much dickering, great supplies of arms and -ammunitions, and then the crowd melted away and only familiar faces were -seen again. The country round about put on its white coverlet of snow to -keep warm the little earth children, streams and ponds were frozen over -and all was merriment again. - -Francois Marchand and his pretty wife set up a home of their own only a -short distance away, but business had increased so much that it needed -the attention of both. Next year they would buy some boats or have them -built, and do some trading up and down the river. - -Andre Valbonais was much pleased with his new home and the cordiality of -his relatives. He soon attracted the attention of Colonel Chouteau, for -he had considerable education, and was put in a clerkship, which -gratified him extremely. But he often ran up to the Rue de Rive to chat -with Denys and Marchand over their adventures, and to watch the pretty, -dark-eyed girl who always sat so close to her uncle and held his hand. - -And then came the winter gayeties. Throngs of children went out on the -great mound when the snow had a crust on it, and the girls, gathering up -their skirts, squatted down and were given a little push, and away they -went, swift as an arrow. One would tumble over and roll down to the -bottom, throwing about numerous little fleets, but they were so well -wrapped in furs no one was ever hurt. The great achievement was to spin -the whole length without a break. - -It was merry again at Christmastide, and Renee enjoyed it much more than -last year; but there was a tender devoutness in her worship. Then the -great Feast of Lights, Epiphany and all the fun and frolic. Andre was -chosen a king by one of the pretty girls. He was a fine dancer and a -very good-looking young fellow. - -Perhaps it made Renee more light-hearted to know that Barbe had a real -lover, and that he hardly allowed her to smile at any one else. She was -not quite betrothed as yet, but there could be no objections. He -belonged to a good New Orleans family, and was in a trading house second -only to the Chouteaus'. All the Guions said it would be an excellent -match, and Barbe was plenty old enough to marry. Bachelor girls had not -come in fashion, and when one had passed twenty the younger girls really -flouted her and thought she ought to step in the background. - -She danced once with Gaspard Denys. No, he had never been a real lover. -But if he had not gone to Quebec after this little girl--well, all things -might have been different. And as well Jean Gardepier as any one. She -would go to New Orleans with him when he went down on trading -expeditions, and the gayety would delight her. She would have some fine -clothes and jewels, still she sighed a little when Denys took her back -to her sister. - -"And here is Elise the second," said Madame Renaud gayly. "See what a -tall girl she has grown. You must dance once with her. Oh, how soon they -are women, and then it is lovers and husbands. Gaspard, are you going to -stay single forever?" and Madame laughed softly. - -"I'm such an old fellow now! I feel like a grandfather to these young -girls," he returned jocosely. - -But Elise thought him charming, and in her turn almost envied Renee. - -Years unmarked by any special events pass on almost unheeded. Trade came -and went. A few new houses were built. Young people were married, new -children were born. Families came from across the river, not liking -their English neighbors over well. Occasionally there was an Indian -alarm, but St. Louis had the good fortune to live mostly at peace with -her red neighbors, while many of the Illinois towns suffered severely. - -One of the events of the summer that delighted Renee was the birth of -Wawataysee's baby. It was a great marvel to her, though there were -plenty of babies about. It was more French than Indian. It had beautiful -large dark eyes and was a very fine specimen of babyhood. It was named -for Uncle Gaspard, who was its godfather, and Wawataysee pleaded that -Renee should be godmother. - -"For you are the two people I love best after my husband," said the -Indian woman proudly. "You are like a little sister." - -Renee was very glad to be that now. She was learning to rejoice in the -happiness of others. - -Then Barbe Guion had a very pretty wedding, and the boat in which she -was going to New Orleans was trimmed with flags. It was a long journey -then, sometimes a dangerous one; less so at this season. And Barbe might -be gone a whole year. There was a great turnout to wish her godspeed. -She looked very bright and happy in her wedding gear. - -Renee took Uncle Gaspard's hand and glanced up in his face, which was -rather grave. - -"Are you sorry?" she asked. - -"Sorry? What a question, child! Why should I be sorry?" - -"She loved you very much," was the answer, in a low tone. - -"Nonsense! I am old enough to be her father. And Barbe married of her -own free will." - -"I wish you had been my true father," Renee subjoined gravely. And -strange to say, she pitied Barbe in her secret heart, yet she was glad -she had gone so far away. - -Renee went now and then to see her grandfather. It seemed as if he grew -older and thinner and more morose, yet her sympathy went out to him -curiously. She had heard the talk that he was suspected of being in -league with the river pirates and supplying the Indians with rum, which -was against the laws. One ship had been caught, the pirates -overmastered, four of them sent to New Orleans in irons, and two had -been wounded and drowned in an attempt to swim away. She felt a good -deal troubled. He would not talk of the affair when she mentioned it. - -"But you are so lonely here outside the palisade. Why do you not come -in?" she inquired. - -"It suits me well enough," he answered roughly. "I did not ask you to -stay here. And you need not come for my pleasure." - -"But if the Indians should attack you some time?" - -"Bah! The Indians know me better," with a scowl of disdain. - -"Is Antoine Freneau my grandfather really?" she asked that evening as -she sat in the moonlight with Denys. - -"Why, yes," in amaze at her question. - -"Then it would be wicked not to--to have some regard for him," she -remarked unwillingly. - -Gaspard did not answer at once. Antoine had dropped down year by year. -He had not always been so churlish, though his discourteous, hermit-like -ways were of long standing. He had never doubted but that he had been -the father of the girl he loved, yet she had come up as a lily out of a -quagmire. But how could Renee respect or regard him? And how little he -cared for her! - -"That's a difficult question. We shall have to ask the good pere some -day. He understands these matters." - -"But--I belong to you, surely?" - -"You belong to me!" He clasped her hand fervently. - -"And I shall always stay here?" - -"Always, until some young lover comes;" but he drew her closer, as if he -disputed her being taken away. - -"You shall be my lover," with a gay laugh. "If ever I draw a bean at the -king's ball you shall be my king." - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - -PASSING YEARS - - -Renee de Longueville was fifteen and very fair to look upon, if not as -beautiful as Madame Marchand, or perhaps as some of the belles of the -town. She was slight and not very tall, and her hair had not grown much -darker. Her eyes kept their soft wondering expression, sometimes a -curious depth that told of vehement emotions, ardent joys and a capacity -for suffering. But most people looking at the gay young face when it -smiled would only have read archness and mirth and a great capacity for -enjoyment. - -Some curious events had been happening. The colonies had beaten England -and won their freedom, their recognition. From the Atlantic Ocean to the -Mississippi River it was all America. This side of the river it was -Spain still, a kind of French Spain. Commandant Cruzat was well-liked -and very social. Madame was charming. There were balls at the Government -House and at the handsome old Chouteau residence, that had been improved -year by year. A long gallery ran around two sides above the first story, -and it made a delightful place for dancers. The roof was high, with both -ends cut off as it were, broken by two chimneys and two dormer windows. -Downstairs a broad piazza also, and here the gentlemen would sit and -smoke and discuss business and the changes that were going on around -them, while within, Madame Chouteau dispensed charming hospitality. - -St. Louis was still in an idyllic state, gay, joyous, friendly and -hospitable, with much simplicity of living. Others besides the Chouteaus -had enlarged their borders. Gaspard Denys had built two rooms and raised -the roof of his house so as to make a storeroom and one little chamber, -where Chloe, the slave, slept. Mere Lunde still took charge of the -house, but Denys insisted she should have some help, and then no -question was made of buying one. They were well treated and had good -homes, and were not overworked. - -One of the new rooms was Uncle Gaspard's, the other Renee's, while her -old one was transferred to Mere Lunde, who at first thought she could -never sleep on a bedstead. And Renee's room was quite a marvel of -prettiness. Great strips of white birch bark on which dainty pictures -were worked went from floor to ceiling, while between was soft gray -plaster. Sometimes this was stained in various colors. Then there were -shelves about on which were displayed odd bits of Indian work--a bowl, a -vase, or a pretty basket. Many of these came from Mattawissa's hands and -not a few from Wawataysee's. - -Now Madame Marchand had a dainty little girl, christened Renee. Her -gracious air, her refinement and beauty, and her romantic story as well, -had made her many friends, and M. Marchand was one of the thriving -business men, very much honored and respected. Not infrequently he and -Gaspard were called into council on some important question. - -And though the palisades and gates and towers were still looked upon as -a means of defence, the inhabitants ventured to enlarge their borders -without. Several bands of friendly Indians had settled toward the -northern and western ends. Parties no longer hesitated to wander through -the woods, and the children often went out to pick wild strawberries -that grew so plentifully all about. Then there were grapes and a -delicious kind of wild plum, pears and apples, and melons cultivated in -the gardens, with various small fruits. - -Renee de Longueville had come in possession of quite a fortune; at -least, Uncle Gaspard held it in trust for her. And it made her quite a -person of consequence. - -Antoine Freneau had grown really afraid to carry on his illicit trade -after the capture of the Red Rover. She had stores for him, and for -weeks he trembled when he saw two or three men approaching his cabin. He -was old and he resolved he would do no more at it. This he tried to -explain to those who came for a supply. True, he brought up his whiskey -and sold it as long as it lasted, but unfortunately the Indians used to -securing their indulgence in that manner would not believe it. They -brought furs, often stolen from the traders, and insisted that he should -exchange. They always came after nightfall, and sped away again in the -dark. - -Angry at length at their repeated efforts, he would not open his door. -The bar within was very strong and he felt himself secure. But the old -stanchion had decayed at the ground point, and one night it gave way at -their united efforts. - -Antoine found himself defenceless against the angry mob. They bound him -and began to ransack the place. Bringing to light one jug of whiskey, -they were confident there was more. They searched every corner, every -nook, but in vain. And then they fell upon the old man, beat him and -tortured him until he was limp and lifeless they thought, when, taking a -pack of the most valuable furs, they decamped. - -It was not until noon of the next day that some one in passing noted the -unusual appearance and halted at the cabin. The old man lay on the -floor. He had revived from unconsciousness, but his hands were securely -fastened behind him, his face was bruised and swollen and everything in -disorder. He gave the alarm and some kindly neighbors came to his -assistance. Then another went for Gaspard Denys. - -Perhaps nothing could have happened that would have rehabilitated -Antoine Freneau in the pity and good will of his fellow-men sooner. -Unsocial and under suspicion for years, asking and taking nothing from -them, seldom giving them a good word, his helplessness appealed now to -their sympathy. Gaspard had his wounds and bruises attended to, the -house made a little orderly, and found a slave woman who would care for -him. That he had been robbed was evident. Even the puncheon floor had -been torn up, and disclosed a sort of pit in which something had -evidently been stored. - -Old Doctor Montcrevier came, but he shook his head doubtfully. The old -man breathed and occasionally opened heavy, wandering eyes. But on the -third day he rallied. - -"Gaspard Denys!" he moaned. "Send--tell him," and then he lapsed away -again. - -Denys came and watched with him through the night. Several times his -name escaped the old man's lips. Gaspard gave him some brandy he had -brought. - -He opened his eyes again and gazed around piteously, resting them -finally upon Gaspard. - -"I cannot think," rubbing his forehead in a dazed fashion. "They were -Indians. They wanted rum. I had none, only one jug I kept in case--in -case I should need it. I am an old man, Gaspard. They--they beat me." - -"Yes. Can you tell who they were? No strange Indians have been seen -about." - -Even here the old man's cunning came uppermost. He would not betray -himself. He shook his head slowly. - -"Some marauding parties. Perhaps from the river." - -"The river! See if they are coming!" starting up in affright. - -"No one is coming," in a reassuring tone. - -"Gaspard, am I hurt much? Oh, help me! I do not want to die. I hate -death! I want to live;" and he tried to raise himself, but fell back -exhausted. - -"Would you like to have the priest?" Gaspard could think of no other aid -in this extremity. - -"No! no! I will not die! They come to your deathbed. Stay with me -yourself." - -"What can I do?" - -He was silent a long while. His breath came slowly and with effort, and -shudders ran over him. - -"Renee," he said presently. "You have the child, Gaspard?" - -"Yes; you gave her to me." - -"If you had died--your money----" - -"I had made a will. Everything would have gone to her." - -"That was right--right. Gaspard, there is some gold--is any one -listening?" moving his eyes in a frightened way. - -"No, no!" - -"There is some gold and silver put away. You might better take it. -Thieves may come again. Carry me to the chimney." - -He was a heavy burden. Gaspard put him down on some blankets. - -"See! Count the stones. The third stone." The eyes were wild in their -eagerness. - -"This!" pointing. "Take it out." - -Gaspard worked with both strength and energy. It was fitted in very -securely, but it gave way at length. - -"The next one." - -When that came out a small iron box was visible, and Gaspard worked it -loose. - -"Take it with you. It will be hers when I die. There is no one else. But -not until--I have the key--and--but I am not going to die!" with fierce -energy. - -"No, no," soothingly. "Take a little of this cordial." - -But the signs of death were there and Gaspard read them truly. Could he -warn? That was for the priest. - -"You are very good." His voice was much shaken, and shadows seemed to -waver over his eyes. "And I was not good to you, Gaspard Denys, in that -old time. You were but a boy. You had your fortune to make. She loved -you and I meant to wean her away--and--I did not want her to know how I -was--trading. The Count fell in love with her, though when the matter was -most settled he wrung a dowry out of me, curse him! But she was a -Countess. And he should have kept the child. What did he mean by sending -her here?" - -He had made many pauses and now lay back exhausted, his face growing -grayer. Gaspard roused the nurse. - -"Go up to the church," he said, "the priest's house, and bring some one. -Quick! The man is dying." - -It was some time before he roused again. - -"Renee," he murmured, "you will be a great lady in France. Your mother's -mother was, and fled away because a king loved her. A king!" He laughed -shrilly and a rattle came in his throat. "And you must go back to them, -to your own kind. This wild life is not for you. As for that young -stripling, he is dancing at the Guinolee and singing love songs to -pretty girls. Thou art not the only pretty girl in St. Louis, Renee----" - -Then there was a long silence. Once or twice Gaspard thought him dead, -but he started and muttered both French and Indian words. It was near -midnight when the good father came, and he shook his head sadly. - -Gaspard roused Antoine a little. - -"I fear it is too late," in a regretful tone, while a look of pity -crossed his face. "Still we must try to the last moment. Antoine -Freneau, it is I, Pere Lemoine. Listen! Death is near. Dost thou repent -of thy sins, which have been many, doubtless, hidden from man but not -escaping the eye of God? There may yet be mercy vouchsafed." - -The dying man clutched the blanket and stared dully, yet he seemed to -listen. - -"Oh, yes, yes!" he cried suddenly. "At St. Anne's down the river. Yes, -we both confessed----" - -Whether he understood any of the service was doubtful, but the good -priest did his duty according to his conscience and the times. But -before he had ended the last prayer both knew he was dead, and had -passed without a struggle. - -"I will stay the rest of the night with you," said the priest. "And -since you have the child, I suppose you will be the proper person to -take charge. It is supposed the old man had not a little wealth--if the -marauders did not take it all away." - -The woman came in to prepare the body. Round the old man's neck was a -strong bit of wire like cord, and a key. Gaspard took this. It fitted -the box. - -After daylight they took a survey of the place. There were some firearms -stored away, blankets, furs that were motheaten and of little value, -some Indian habiliments; but it was evident the place had been pretty -thoroughly ransacked. - -So they buried Antoine Freneau, and for some days it was the sensation -of the little town. Gaspard Denys now took the formal guardianship of -Renee de Longueville. He had the record of her mother's marriage, her -birth and christening. Some of the goods were worth saving, the others -were distributed among the poorest of the Indians about. - -In an old chest of curious workmanship Gaspard found a false bottom. In -this compartment were some laces and embroideries, a wedding veil that -Renee's grandmother had doubtless worn, the certificate of her marriage -to Antoine Freneau and considerable valuable jewelry, with some unset -stones. And when they examined the strong box it proved an unexpected -fortune for Renee de Longueville. - -Then the old house was suffered to go to ruin. Some Indians went -there for shelter, but soon left. They had been roused at midnight -by unearthly noises and seen the figure of old Freneau in its -grave-clothes; so the story gained credence that the place was haunted. -Even after it had fallen into an unsightly heap the mysterious noises -were heard and no one would pass it after nightfall. - -Renee was very much shocked at first. She had not loved her grandfather, -but there had always been a curious pity in her tender soul for him in -what she considered his loneliness. She went in the church and prayed -for his soul, for she knew God was merciful. Had He not watched over -Uncle Gaspard and sent him safely home? - -And now Renee de Longueville was quite an heiress and had some really -beautiful heirloom jewels, besides the laces and the exquisite veil. Her -grandmother's people must have been of some account. But no one would -have imagined Antoine Freneau a handsome or attractive young man, and a -favorite among the pretty girls of Old New Orleans. The miser-like -propensities had grown with the years, and he had found, he thought, an -easy way of making money by being in league with the river pirates on -the one hand and roving bands of Indians on the other. He had skilfully -evaded detection if not always suspicion, and now that he had suffered -almost martyrdom in the end, the generous, cordial people were not the -kind to fling up these vague accusations. - -So the sorrow was over and it was winter again, full of merriment and -gayety, and lovers wooing young girls. Elise Renaud had been married and -Sophie was quite a belle. Rosalie Pichou was the mother of two babies -and had a comfortable home, though her husband traded with New Orleans -and was often gone months at a time. They had to guard against the river -pirates, who frequently sallied out from some peaceful-looking covert, -hidden by woods or a bend in the stream. Occasionally there were Indians -lying in wait, but the men always went well armed, and generally in -quite a fleet, with the goods, the wheat and corn in barges or -flat-bottomed boats, with several canoes for swiftness if they saw a -chance of chastising their enemies. It was comparatively easy to go down -the river, and as each boat had a mast and sails, they sped along -beautifully in a favorable wind. But coming back was generally the -trial, as the tide was against them. Sometimes two boatmen would walk -along the river bank and pull a rope like the later towing line, while -those on the boat steered and with long poles kept the prow from running -into the bank and avoided the snags. - -But before Christmas all the boats that were expected had come in; the -others would remain at New Orleans until more favorable weather. And -this year there was to be a grand ball at the Government House before -the king's ball took place, for in the last trip up the river several -young men had arrived. One was to be secretary to the Commandant. Two -were on their way to Canada and would start when the spring opened. - -Sophie Renaud had run in, full of the news. - -"And you have so many pretty things to wear!" she cried half enviously. -"Your uncle always seems to know, while you might as well ask a stick as -to ask my father to bring you home anything worth while. And the pretty -frock Aunt Barbe sent me last summer is all in shreds. Ma mere declares -I ought to have fawnskin, like an Indian girl. And did you see Madame -Marchand's lovely feather cape on Sunday? It has a row of bluebird -feathers around it that are dazzling." - -Yes, Renee had seen the cape often while it was being made. Three years -it had taken Wawataysee to collect the feathers. She had so many -beautiful ideas. - -"It would set me crazy to do such a thing!" - -Renee laughed. Sophie always flew from one point to another, and -delighted in attire. - -"Wawataysee is coming to see what will be most suitable," returned -Renee. - -"And shall I have to wear the old white silk Cousin Guion gave me? It -has been washed, but mother has pressed it like new. And one of the -young men is very handsome. I saw him as I passed the court-house. -Laflamme I believe he is called, and I predict he will set all the -girls' hearts in a flame if he dances anything as he looks. I hope we -all get a chance. And oh, what fun the king's ball will be! I just hope -I shall be a queen!" - -Renee tossed her pretty head. For the girls in those days gossiped -pretty much as they do now, and were just as eager for pleasure. - -Andre Valbonais dropped in as he often did. He was a great favorite, and -now that he was doing so well under the very eyes of M. Chouteau, he -could afford to have a steady sweetheart. Early marriages were much in -vogue, and though a dot was very good, many a nice girl was married with -only some household articles and bedding. - -Truth to tell, Andre had been very much captivated with Madame Marchand. -Her bravery through those wearisome days and nights of the return, her -sweetness and patience with the little one, had made her an angel to be -adored. M. Marchand's gratitude knew no bounds; indeed, he had been -treated with brotherly affection by them both. Suddenly his eyes had -been opened. It was an insult to any sweet, honorable woman to covet -her, especially when she loved her husband as Wawataysee did. And Andre -struggled to cast the sin out of his heart. She never even dreamed of -such a thing, and for worlds he would not have incurred her displeasure. - -But this it was that had made him care less for the young girls about. -He could not offer any of them a heart that was half another's. - -So in a certain fashion he had been devoted to Renee because she was -such a child, and there was no danger he believed. - -"There will be a great time, I suppose, at the ball," he said, sitting -by the splendid log fire at Gaspard Denys'. "One of my cousins is to -dance with the new Secretary, Monsieur Rive. He came to the mill with -the Governor." - -M. Cruzat was often styled that, but the real Governor of all Louisiana -had his capital at New Orleans. This was the Lieutenant. - -"And is he very handsome?" - -"Oh, good-looking enough," indifferently. "M. Laflamme will take the -winning card. Renee, do not get a heartbreak over him. Take warning." - -"I shall not get a heartbreak over anybody," with a saucy smile. - -"Ah, your time has not yet come!" blowing out wreaths of delicate smoke. - -"Andre, I want you to dance the first dance with me." - -"I am at your service, ma'm'selle. But three new young men and a pretty -girl--you do me great honor," and he made a bow, with an odd, amused -smile. - -"Do you suppose I am going to stand around and cast wistful eyes at -these strangers?" she cried with pretty, mock indignation. "And I shall -be in the very first dance, too." - -"I am made supremely happy, ma'm'selle." - -"And if there is any--if you see me looking--well, disconsolate, you will -ask me again." - -There was a charming imperiousness in her tone. - -"I will obey, ma'm'selle, with great delight." - -"And--Andre, who will be the prettiest girl there?" - -"Merci! Little one, how can I make a choice?" - -"I will tell you: Lucie Aubry, and she will dance with the Secretary the -first thing." - -"Lucie Aubry has not all the beauty of St. Louis." - -"Oh, if she had, what would be left for us?" and Renee made a mirthfully -despairing face. - -"You need not feel alarmed." - -"Oh, I don't," with enchanting gayety. "In the first place, I am not -tall enough, not grand enough. Then my hair should be raven black, and -it is such a funny no-color." - -"It is very handsome," he replied decidedly. "Sometimes in the sun it -looks as if it had gold dust sprinkled over it. And then I've seen it -look as if the top of every wave was touched with silver." - -"That is very beautiful, Andre. I will try to recall the compliment when -it looks to me like a gray-brown. And my nose, see----" - -"Ma'm'selle, you wrinkle it up and it makes you look piquant, saucy. You -couldn't make it bad if you tried." - -"Oh, yes! Look!" She put her finger to the tip of it and gave it a tiny -hitch and then laughed. - -"That shows your curved lips and your lovely teeth. Even that wouldn't -make you a fright." - -"Oh, Andre, how good and comforting you are! But Wawataysee, with her -little Indian blood, is a hundred times handsomer. Only--I am very glad I -suit you and Uncle Gaspard. He thinks I grow like my mother." - -She had been half-dancing round the room in the blaze of the logs. -Families often kept no other light. Now she came and sat down opposite -him, demure as a nun. She had so many fascinating, changeful ways. He -had always considered her a child, but now she was a charming young -girl. This was one of the places where Valbonais felt entirely at home, -because there was no danger of being misinterpreted by any watchful -mamma. He was not quite ready to marry. - -Denys came in and pushed his seat near Renee, who leaned her head on his -shoulder. Now the golden lights shone in her hair--not yellow-gold, but -the richer, deeper color--and a soft rose tint played over her cheek, -while her mouth dimpled at the corners as if she was amused at -something. There would not be many prettier girls at the ball, Valbonais -thought. - -Wawataysee looked over the "treasures" that one way and another had come -into the possession of Gaspard Denys. True, it was a kind of idyllic -time in the history of the town, so far as regarded society. Some of the -families had a gown or a mantilla of lace and fringe that had been -handed down, voyaged from Canada, or more directly from France and New -Orleans. Such articles were only taken out on great occasions, a few -times in the year. But the woman in plain attire had just as delightful -a time if she was vivacious and sparkling and a good dancer. - -For this was the chief amusement of the women. The men had their -shooting matches, not only as a pastime but a good practice, where to be -an excellent marksman was often a protection against Indians; but the -hunts served to provide much of the family living. Many of these people -had come of the better class peasant stock, who from time immemorial had -danced on the greensward on fete days, and not infrequently on Sunday -afternoon, their only holidays. - -There were no theatres, few books, and many of the elder people read -with so much difficulty that they lost interest in it. Oftener legends -and family stories were told over on summer evenings when old and young -sat out in the moonlight, ate little spiced cakes and drank birch beer. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - -AT THE BALL - - -Wawataysee fashioned a frock for Renee out of some silvery threaded -stuff that had soft blue disks here and there, looking almost like bits -of fur. Round the shoulders was a band of blue feathers from jay and -marten and bluebird, skilfully arranged on a strip of cloth. Her full, -girlish throat and arms were bare except for some bracelets and a string -of pearls. Her hair was gathered up in a great knot on top of her head -and fastened with a silver comb set with jewels. When she entered the -ballroom leaning on her uncle's arm half the assemblage turned to look -at her. - -The largest space in the Government House had been cleared for dancing. -There were smaller connecting rooms, and all had been trimmed with -evergreens. The warmth brought out their pungent fragrance. Here a -cluster of scarlet berries, there a branch of brown-red oak, a handful -of yellow hickory leaves bunched like a sunflower. Here was the -Commandant, M. Cruzat, and his staff, with their military accoutrements -much tarnished by wear, and the soldiers at the fort who had worn out -those kept some little shred, perhaps the old buttons, to indicate their -standing. But the young men were in noticeably fresh array. - -Madame Cruzat and the elegant Madame Chouteau were on the other side -with several ladies, bowing and smiling and making a place for some of -the elders. Around the room were ranged seats of rough boards covered -with blankets. In one of the smaller apartments was the band, though it -was composed mostly of violins. - -The elders were to have the upper end of the room in the Court minuet, -the younger people next and in the adjoining rooms. M. Laflamme, a -distinguished-looking young man with an air of what we should call -society, spoke to a lady standing near, who brought him over to -Mademoiselle de Longueville. And at that instant Valbonais approached -smiling and extending his hand. - -She listened to the request with the most dainty modesty. "I regret, -monsieur," she said in a low tone, "but it is a previous engagement." -And now Lucie Aubry might have the pleasure in welcome. She would not -throw over an old friend for a new acquaintance. She held her head up -very proudly and danced the minuet as if she had been a queen. - -After that the real pleasure began. Old and young, with little -formality, yet with the kind of breeding the French never forgot, and -took into the forests with them. Andre need not have watched for Renee's -half warning. If she could have danced with three in the same set, she -had the opportunity. - -M. Laflamme was a little piqued, but he captured her at last. - -"Ma'm'selle," in a pause, "you are a true French girl, name and all. You -might have come from Paris." - -"As I did once upon a time," smiling out of bewitching eyes. - -"Ah! Can you remember?" - -"I was there but one day. At the house of my father. A little child, -eight years or so." - -"Not the Count de Longueville?" - -"The Count de Longueville. At least, _one_ Count. There may be many," -she replied, with drooping, mischievous eyes. - -"But--he has a wife and two sons, the one I mean." - -"My own mother died," and the grave tone was tenderly sweet. "I hardly -knew her. Then I was sent to her people, my grandfather here at St. -Louis." - -"Not--oh, no, not Monsieur Denys!" - -"He is not old enough," she replied, with a touch of vexation. "No. And -now that relative is dead. Monsieur, tell me about my little brothers." - -"I never saw them, but know there are two. They are away somewhere being -educated. Madame the Countess is at court, one of the handsome women -that swell the Queen's train." - -A sort of protest sped through Renee's pulses. Her mother was lying in -an unheeded grave. She remembered being taken to it several times. And -the Count had forgotten about her; another stood in her place. They two -were gay and happy. - -"You would like to go back to France?" tentatively. - -"No, monsieur," and she raised her pretty head proudly. "I would not -leave Uncle Denys for all France has to offer," in a clear, decisive -tone. - -"You rate him very highly. I almost envy him, ma'm'selle," bowing very -low. "There is another dance----" - -Uncle Denys brought up Monsieur Rive, who had been merely presented to -her in the early part of the evening, and he begged for the pleasure of -dancing with her. - -"I thought you were engaged," said Laflamme in a quick tone to Renee. - -"I did not say so, monsieur," she replied in a low tone. "But it is not -considered best to dance right along with one person. I do not quite -know the fashion of courts," raising demure, but fascinating eyes. - -"She would do for a court," he ruminated. - -Renee meanwhile swam away like a graceful bird in a maze of sunshine. M. -Rive was delighted. He had been dancing with Madame Aubry, who had grown -rather stout, and Madame Garis, who was always a little stiff, as she -had descended on both sides from nobility, though it was long ago; but -she desired to keep up a certain state. The mothers expected to have the -young men pay them the compliment of at least one dance. - -But what grace and elegance this young creature possessed! And the -pretty, flower-like face was enchanting in its enjoyment. - -"Do you often have such balls as this?" he asked presently. "I was quite -averse to coming to St. Louis, but I hardly dared decline the -appointment. I thought you--" and he paused. - -"Well, what did you think, monsieur?" with an arch look and in a merry -voice. "That we were part Indian and lived in wigwams?" - -"Oh, no!" coloring. "But we are quite gay at New Orleans. There are many -Spanish people, and the creole women are very beautiful and exquisite -dancers, though they seem a race quite by themselves. And we have a -theatre. You see, it is the great port. So much trade comes to us--the -vessels from Europe, and from some of the cities in the colonies that -have so lately gained their independence." - -"I shall go to New Orleans some time. My uncle has promised me. In the -summer, perhaps." - -"Oh, not next summer!" - -"Why not?" with a dainty toss of the head. - -"Because I am to stay here a year whether or no." - -"Monsieur," with gay audacity, "I believe your business has something to -do with writing letters and keeping accounts. I cannot help you there, -so it could make but little difference." - -"But we shall have the winter. What is this I hear about the king's -ball? Or is it a series of balls?" - -"Oh, monsieur, that is a delight!" She gave a brief description of it. -"And there are four queens. Each chooses a king." - -"I hope you will be a queen. But to have your high honor depend on so -great a chance seems rather discouraging." - -"Still, the king may choose you next time. Then it doesn't always depend -upon a bean," laughing with gay softness. - -"What an odd plan! Ma'm'selle, I hope I may be a king. I never thought -of such an honor before. And I have chosen my queen already." - -The violins dragged out a last slow note. The fiddlers had not learned -to blow it out with a sort of ecstasy. Then Andre Valbonais came, for -the next dance was his and he was very glad. If there was such a thing -as an especial belle of the evening, it was Renee de Longueville. These -new gay fellows must not crowd him out, he resolved. - -There was a promenade after that. Renee fell out of the ranks and -insisted upon sitting down a few minutes. - -"Go and find Sophie Renaud for me," she said to Andre in a dainty tone -of command. - -"And leave you here alone?" - -"I am going to crawl in this corner and rest a bit. And I wonder where -Uncle Denys is?" - -"He has been talking to the Governor. M. Cruzat is not above listening -to the needs of the people. There are to be improvements along the -levee." - -She waved her hand in dismissal. Then she wondered, with a bit of -feminine inconsistency, who would be first to find her out. This would -be a lovely corner for a chat. - -A voice caught her ear. She heard her name mentioned in a complimentary -manner. - -"She is very well born. Although you do not seem to make much of that -here." - -That was Monsieur Laflamme's peculiarly cultivated accent. - -"Yes, on the one side. The other, her grandfather--well, no one is quite -certain. But he left her a fortune and some handsome jewels. How he -obtained both no one really knows." - -"I suppose many things have to be condoned in this new country. In fact, -they have to be in most places," laughing ironically. "The world is -quite turned upside down, but money is on the top everywhere. And the -uncle, he has several interests I have heard. He has no family." - -"He is not a real relative, but a sort of godfather or guardian. She is -like a child to him. There is a story that he was in love with her -mother when they were children. Besides his trading business he has an -interest in the lead mines. And it is said there are some wonderful -discoveries of salt that hunters have found. We shall distance you more -southern people some day." - -"Then M. Denys is one of your prosperous citizens?" - -"Oh, yes, monsieur! We are proud of him." - -"And the young lady will be his heiress?" - -"Most likely. It is hardly probable that he will marry now. Monsieur -Laflamme, if you are looking for a wife with a comfortable dot, here is -your opportunity. A pretty girl, too. Well spoiled; but a husband, if he -has any sense, soon trains a girl aright when she is young." - -Madame Aubry laughed with an inflection of satisfaction. French mothers -seem matchmakers by instinct. She had informed herself about the -newcomers. The two travellers were men of no especial fortunes, and -though she was pleased to have Lucie dance with them, she had other -views for her daughter, who would have no great dowry. Genevieve had a -pretty home near by, and she did not want Lucie to go away. She had her -eye on a very well-to-do person who had already made the proper advances -to her. She could afford to be generous with her neighbors' maids. - -Renee sprang up suddenly, her face aflush with anger. That any one would -consider her fortune made her indignant. She had some fanciful ideas of -love, gleaned largely from Wawataysee and her husband, who since the -attack on St. Louis had guarded her with the utmost devotion, purchasing -a strong, burly slave to be her guard and to watch over his babies. -During his two journeys North she had lived at the Denys's house. There -had been other love matches as well, where the question of dowry had -hardly been thought of, though every mother and father were delighted to -have a hand in the bride's plenishing. - -She almost ran into M. Rive. Then she laughed and drew herself up with a -gesture of half dignity, half amusement. And there was Sophie Renaud and -Valbonais, who looked from one to the other and wondered why Renee had -sent him away. He fancied he read some confusion in her face. - -"The gentlemen are invited to the office," said a servant. "There are -pipes and liquors and cards for those who love play. The ladies will be -refreshed in the anteroom," designating the corridor with a wave of his -hand. - -There were several tables spread here with delicacies that it was -supposed men cared little about. Spiced wines and cordials, fruit dried -and sugared, dainty cakes and various confections. No one thought of a -great supper. The girls crowded by themselves and laughed and chatted, -counting up the times they had danced and the captures they had made, -and what their real lovers had said. In the simplicity of their -enjoyment there was little heart-burning. - -"Renee," exclaimed one of the group, "we shall have to look out for -ourselves! Why, you have only been a child hitherto, and here are all -the men paying court and compliments to you! However, you cannot have my -Jean, for he has spoken to the priest, and though maman thinks it but -short notice, she will get me ready." - -Rose Boucher threw back her head and laughed, showing her pearly teeth. - -"Oh," said Renee merrily, "and last winter we had such nice times -skating on the pond! Now you will not let him skate with us or help us -up the mound or anything!" - -The tone was so disconsolate and the face so full of mock despair that -it was amusing. - -"Not I, indeed! You're not going to have the whole world, Renee de -Longueville, if you have a rich uncle and have danced with all these -newcomers, and had all the room looking at you in your beautiful gown -and your high comb. Has it real diamonds? Dear me! It behooves us to get -betrothed as soon as possible when these young things set up for -admirers." - -So they teased her good-humoredly and she laughed in return, but it -seemed as if she were two people instead of one--a girl enjoying -everything and a woman fearing some things. - -But presently they returned to the dancing. Monsieur Laflamme sought her -out at once. Her first impulse was to decline with high dignity, then a -gleam of mirth shone in her eyes and she accepted. If he wanted to begin -wooing, let him. The inborn coquetry of her nature rose to the surface. -She was bright with a certain childish audacity and her piquancy -attracted him. If he chose he could win her very easily. People in this -New World were making fortunes readily, but Paris would be the place to -spend them. - -Mothers began presently to gather up their charges and express their -pleasure to Madame Cruzat. The fathers had a touch of gallantry as well. -It was very gratifying to feel that the Commandant had their interests -truly at heart and cared for the town. - -Andre Valbonais came to find Renee. - -"I am to see you safe home," he said. "M. Denys is wanted in a little -council they are having." - -The girl made no demur. How lovely they looked in their fur hoods, their -cheeks still rosy, their eyes bright, their chatter full of joy. -Laflamme studied them and wondered who Valbonais could be, with his -unquestioning authority. - -They went down the Rue Royale a happy, light-hearted crowd, crunching -the snow under their feet and looking up at the stars that seemed to -shine with unwonted brilliance, as if they had really usurped the place -of the moon. And here was the Chouteau house, a great white mound, the -dormer windows in the roof like some curious eyes. The throng thinned -out. Renee and Andre turned up their own street. - -"And did you like those newcomers very much?" he began, as if they were -continuing a conversation. - -"They were nice dancers--yes, elegant dancers." - -"They're much interested in the king's ball. Renee, if you draw a bean, -who shall you choose?" - -"Oh, how can I tell? The handsomest man." - -"The handsomest are not always the worthiest." - -"That sounds like a grandam. Why should one care for a night? One dances -for the pleasure." - -"But it may lead to----" - -"To all manner of ills, such as falling in love. I suppose that is a -very great ill. Were you ever in love, Andre?" laughing in a mocking -mood. - -"Oh, with you, a hundred times! Else I should not be so ready to do your -bidding." - -"But with any one else?" - -"Why do you want to know?" - -"But you said you were in love with me." Her tone had in it the -daintiest bit of upbraiding. - -"Yes, when I ran away with you and Wawataysee. When I watched over you -day and night. When I do your bidding now as if I was your slave." - -"There's another kind of love." - -"Ma'm'selle, that's too sacred to talk about lightly." - -Dragon, the great hound, was watching at the gate. He made no objection -when Andre opened it, but he looked up and down the street. - -"Your master will come presently. He is all right," said Andre. "Or, if -you like to, go for him." - -Dragon signified that he did. Andre opened the door. Mere Lunde was -asleep in her chair. She had piled several logs on the fire, and they -had just burst into a blaze that glorified the apartment. Another hound -lay half asleep in the warmth, but he beat his tail to let them know -that he heard. - -Renee threw off her wraps, took out her comb and shook her hair over her -shoulders. What a shining mass it was! Her eyes were softly bright in -their quartz-like glow. Andre thought she had not looked as beautiful -the whole evening, and he was glad without knowing just why. - -"Good-night," he said abruptly. "Friga will see that no harm befalls -you." - -"Thank you, Andre," and she smiled upon him with a sweetness that he -took outside with him. - -"She will be a flirt," he said to himself. "But, after all, she is only -a child and she doesn't know what deep, heartfelt love is. Heaven keep -her from the knowledge until she has had her fling. The bright, winsome -things have the most power." - -Renee was standing there when Uncle Gaspard came in. He put his arms -around her and kissed her shining head and drooping eyelids. - -"You had a nice time?" - -"It was splendid!" in a joyous tone. - -"I like that young Rive very much. M. Cruzat is well pleased with him. -Go to bed, kitten." - -The very next day, when a company were out skating, M. Laflamme and -several others joined the party. If Renee had been lovely in her dancing -gown, she was infinitely more bewitching in this half Indian skating -attire. Laflamme had made some farther inquiries this morning and found -Madame Aubry had not exaggerated. He had been something of a spendthrift -and was now going to Montreal to get his portion of a family estate that -had fallen in, but whether it could be turned speedily to money was -rather doubtful. It was a long journey, he learned, and though he had -begun it with a spirit of adventure, his courage in the matter was -rather oozing out. What if he stayed here and wooed this charming girl -who threw him a fascinating smile now and then, and knew so little of -the world that she could easily be won? The journey in the summer would -be more agreeable, and with her for a companion---- - -The next day was the New Year and the fun began early. The streets were -musical with fiddles and songs. Lovers had puzzled their brains for -pretty rhymes, and many, it must be confessed, were rather lame; but the -frosty air carried the melody, and no one was over-critical. - -Renee had numberless serenades to her soft, love-inspiring eyes, her -cheeks that would make roses envious, her ripe lips where kisses -blossomed, her shining hair that was like a crown, her lithe figure, her -feet that were not large enough to make a print in the snow. - -Gaspard Denys sat one side of the broad fireplace, in the glow of the -ruddy flame, and listened with amusement. The year before he had gone -for Renee he had joined the merry throng. Barbe Guion was a pretty young -girl, and the Renauds had invited him in. And somehow no one ever quite -knew whether Barbe was happy or not. The first time her husband came up -with the boats she could not accompany him on the severe journey. While -he was in St. Louis her little boy was born and died. Once afterward -Gardepier had taken the expedition, but Barbe was not well and had sent -loving messages; was very happy with her little daughter. He wondered -what led him to think of her this night! - -Renee was restless as a bird. She listened to the singing. There was one -very musical French song that was not as fulsome as the others, and she -wondered a little about it. Then the voices in chorus cried out: -"Good-night, master; may good luck be yours. Good-night, young mistress; -may your dreams be sweet of your true love." - -Then the songs were heard in the distance, and presently Andre Valbonais -came in. - -"Did you hear Laflamme?" he asked. "He and Monette went out for the fun, -but they sang some beautiful songs. M'sieu Denys, do you not think it -time some of this foolishness was broken up? Not that I have anything -against serenading, and really they did finely at the Commandant's. But -the soldiers were out, and that helped." - -"It's an old habit. And the young fellows enjoy it." - -"Andre, are you getting too old for fun? Why, I think it's quite -delightful. I was sure I heard a new voice. And it is the first time I -have been serenaded. Oh, dear! I wonder who I shall dream about?" - -Yes, she had only been a child; now she was a young girl, not quite a -woman, a gay, wilful, enchanting young girl. Did Denys know it? He was -lazily stretched out, with his hands in his pockets, gazing at the fire, -dreaming of long ago, and Renee Freneau, of another time and Barbe -Guion. - -Andre gave a little cough. "Of your true love, ma'm'selle." - -"There are so many," with a laughable assumption of weariness. "And to -doubt their truth would be cruel." - -"There can be only one true love." - -"But each serenader thinks his the true one." - -He had not joined in the foolishness. - -"What they think does not so much matter, ma'm'selle. It is what is in -the woman's heart." - -"And she cannot go out serenading her true love." - -"Would you want to, ma'm'selle?" - -"I should like to find out who he was," and she laughed. - -Denys roused himself suddenly and began to talk business. Andre was -working his way up in the Chouteau mill and was in high favor with its -owners. What would happen when the spring opened, for St. Louis was -growing to be a larger business centre? England, the talk was, had ceded -her rights to the river and all the eastern shore to the new colonial -government, which would make fresh treaties with Spain. The Ohio River -was another promising branch. In fact, everything seemed tending to -strange and uncertain prospects. - -Denys would have been more than amazed if a vision of fifty years later -had crossed his brain there in the firelight. And a hundred years--that -would have sent him quite crazy. - -But the king's ball was the next thing. They were such a pleasure-loving -people at this time; indeed, the winters would have been very dreary -without the pleasure. - -So the merry crowd came and the cake was made. Everybody who could -gathered as usual, and the children added zest in the early part of the -evening, exchanging their gifts and eating their _etrennes_. The stately -dances of the elder people, and then the gavotte, the airy _passe-pied_, -and afterward the merry spinning round in all kinds of fancy steps, in -which some of the young men excelled. - -Then twelve boomed out and one of the matrons cut the cake, another -dealt out the pieces just as they came, so there should be no -favoritism. Renee's had in it no bean--was she glad or sorry? For two -pairs of eyes watched her eagerly. - -"I shall have to wait until next year!" she exclaimed, with a -captivating _moue_ of disappointment. - -"Or the next ball," said Laflamme. "I hope some one will take pity on -me. I should like a taste of royalty." - -Sure enough he was chosen. Monsieur Rive as well. Monette had been -tempted by a hunting expedition. He was not so fond of merriment, and -had left a sweetheart in New Orleans. - -Laflamme was rather annoyed. He had to pay his devotion to his queen, -but he would make up for it next time. Andre had no rival to fear then, -though Renee was besieged with invitations. - -Yet with all the apparent freedom, a young man waited to be asked by the -head of the house before presenting himself to any young lady. And there -was no madame here looking out that this rose should not be left on the -household stem. - -There are natures that opposition whets into ardent desire, and -Laflamme's was one of these. He had become a guest at Madame Aubry's, -but he was too well bred to ask so great a favor of her so soon. Yet at -the night of the second ball he was impatiently waiting. As Renee -emerged from the dressing-room he handed her the bouquet, and she -accepted it with a smile, but she was a little vexed at heart. She would -rather have had the compliment from Monsieur Rive, but she was gratified -to be a queen. - -For somehow her heart rather misgave her. Out on the pond skating, or in -the merry sledging parties, she had managed to evade any special -overtures. There were other young men who considered her bright and -pretty, but to them she was still an eager, rather spoiled child, hardly -to be considered in a fair field for winning, though more than one had -counted up her possible fortune. There was another virtue among these -simple people, loyalty. One young man rarely interfered with another's -sweetheart. A peculiar kind of consent had given her to Andre Valbonais. -He was doing well, a steady young fellow and high in favor with Pierre -Chouteau, who entrusted a great deal of the business to his care. Then -he was in and out at Gaspard Denys', as no young man would be unless he -was willing to give him his darling Renee. - -Laflamme danced with her, and the grace and lightness of her step made -it an exquisite pleasure. He glanced over the girls. There were many who -were pretty with the charm of youth, some who were lovely with the finer -dowry of beauty, that wifehood and motherhood only enhances. A few -generations ago these settlers, many of them, came from peasant stock, -and at least on one side _she_ had fine blood. It showed in her with the -many indescribable points that he could distinguish readily. Still, he -would not have taken any woman with poverty unless it were some court -favorite the King or Queen would dower. - -True, Gaspard Denys might marry and raise up sons and daughters, but he -would make sure that Renee had her portion of his wealth. And although -this was a wild, uncultivated sort of life, there were possibilities of -gain in it. The lead mines were believed to be inexhaustible, though the -method of working them was imperfect. Denys had a share in the -enterprise and sometimes spent weeks at Fort Chartres, as the lead was -sent from there to New Orleans. At such times the Marchands came over to -stay, or Andre Valbonais slept in the house. - -Laflamme had enjoyed his bachelorhood extremely, and admitted to himself -it would be a bother to have to think about a wife. But if his Montreal -affairs should prove unsuccessful it might be a most excellent thing to -have a dependence to fall back upon. And when it came to that he would -not be really compelled to take Renee to France; he would, no doubt, -return to America. - -They had finished their dance, but M. Laflamme still kept Renee's hand -and held her attention by some amusing incidents until the music began -again. Then she was fain to release it. No one had asked her for this -dance--there had been no opportunity. - -"I have you, little prisoner." he said, with a meaning smile. "Come, -this is too delightful to forego." - -"No, I would rather not dance," hesitatingly. - -"You cannot plead fatigue, since you have only danced once," he declared -insistently. - -He impelled her into the line with a gentle firmness she could not -resist, though every line of her face, every pulse in her body, -protested against it. Two dances in succession were too pronounced, -unless one was betrothed or likely to be. - -In spite of it all she found herself whirling about the line, in a -keeper's charge she felt. The young men looked rather questioningly; the -girls exchanged glances, the elder women nodded, as if this set the seal -to their surmises. Renee's face was scarlet and her eyes downcast. Would -it never come to an end? She was growing more and more resentful, -indignant. - -"Now we will take a turn about----" - -"Where is Elise?" she interrupted. Elise Renaud had been married long -enough to play chaperone. Madame Marchand had expected to attend, but in -the afternoon one of the babies had been taken ill. And there were -mothers enough to watch over the young girls. - -"No, you do not want Elise," mimicking her tone in a soft, yet decisive -manner. "And I want you. I have something to say----" - -"No! no!" she cried in alarm, wrenching her hand away, and she would -have fled, but she almost ran into Andre Valbonais's arms. - -"Oh, keep me!" she cried under her breath. "Take me away--keep -me from----" - -"What is the meaning of this?" and he looked from the small, trembling -figure in his arms to Monsieur Laflamme. - -"Ma'm'selle de Longueville had a turn--I think it was the heat--or, -perhaps we danced too hard. You in this new country take things so much -in earnest. Then we came out here for a breath of air. She is better -already. She is my queen for the evening. Ma'm'selle, when you are ready -to go back----" - -Laflamme was the embodiment of gentleness and perfect breeding, and as -he gazed tranquilly at Andre, the young man felt the indescribable -difference, and withal a certain power that was like authority over -Renee. Oh, what if--and suddenly Andre Valbonais knew the child's play; -the pretty imperiousness of ownership had a deeper meaning for him. He -would dispute this man's claim. What was it but trifling? The two men -were as transient guests in the town. They would go away as soon as the -spring opened. But this one should not trifle with little Renee. Ah! he -did not look like trifling. The resolution in his face startled Andre. - -"Ma'm'selle Renee," he began, "are you ill? Shall I take you home?" and -Andre's eyes questioned. - -There was an ardent pressure on the small hand that said -authoritatively, "Come! come!" It roused the spirit of wilfulness, of -which she had quite too much. And what was there to be afraid of? She -was suddenly courageous. - -"I am better now," she said. "We will go back. But I will not dance. -Monsieur Laflamme, choose some other partner. One does not dance every -time, even with a king. We rule our own court here and make our own -laws. And I will lend the fair one my rose." - -She took Andre's arm and smiled up in the other's face with the most -provoking nonchalance. Laflamme gnawed his lip. He was very angry. - -"I shall not consent to that. I am not so easily transferred, -ma'm'selle." - -"But you must go and dance. You will break the circle. Monsieur -Valbonais and I will look on." - -She turned, her head held up haughtily. There was nothing to do but -follow or make a scene, which was not to be thought of. - -"And here is Lucie Aubry, the most queenlike girl in the room. You two -look splendid on the floor. Ma'm'selle Lucie, will you take my rose?" - -"Ma'm'selle Aubry does not need it. May I have the pleasure?" Laflamme -placed himself between the two and led Lucie away. - - - - -CHAPTER XV - -GATHERING THISTLES - - -"What happened?" asked Andre abruptly. "Were you ill, or--or offended?" - -"I was dizzy and warm, that was all." - -"Renee," he began presently, "that man is playing with you. He is -endeavoring to win your affections, and he will go away soon and you -will be left to get over it as best you may." - -"Get over what?" Her look and tone were so demure, so innocent, that he -studied her in amaze. - -"Why," with some embarrassment, "if you care for him--and now I -remember----" - -A definite feeling that could hardly be called emotion swept over him. -And he knew now he was cherishing a vague dream that some day she would -love him. - -"Well, what is it you remember?" in a sweet, half malicious, half -mocking tone. - -"He has been with you a great deal of late. On the ice and at sledging, -and at the last dance. Men of his stamp love to flirt with pretty -girls--yes, love to win their hearts and then leave them in the lurch. -That is what he is doing. He is not in earnest." - -That vexed her. She flushed and looked prettier than ever, but -tormenting as well, as a half-veiled touch of indignation seemed to pass -from her shining eyes. - -"As if I cared!" with a laugh like the softest ripple. - -"Then--you do not--love him?" - -Andre's voice had the hoarseness of an unspoken fear in it. He was -amazed at the boldness of his question. - -"Why should I love him? Why should I want to go away from this dear -home, from Uncle Gaspard?" - -"But he will persuade you----" - -"Will he?" She glanced up so daring, so defiant and resolute, that he -gave a happy laugh. - -"That is right. Oh, Renee, child, do not let any one persuade you! You -are too young. And then, by and by--yes, you will know some one cares for -you with his whole soul, will lay all that he has at your feet----" - -"He had better not. I should simply dance over it. Now let us go back. I -am all rested. You shall have the next dance with me." - -Monsieur Laflamme made no movement toward her, but seemed quite devoted -to a new partner. Did he really care so much? Renee felt piqued with -this display of indifference. This dance had a chain of persons going in -and out and turning partners. As that gentleman approached she gave her -rose a caressing touch and glanced up with eyes so alight and full of -beseechingness that he pressed her hand in token that all was peace -between them, and her wilful heart exulted. - -"My charming queen," he said in an appealing tone, "may I come back to -my rightful place and sun myself in your smiles? Did I offend you?" - -She was not used to such flowery speech, but it sounded delightful to -her. And yet it did not seem quite sincere. But she waved her hand -playfully to Andre and went with M. Laflamme to the head of the row of -dancers. It was hardly likely she would be queen again after to-night. - -Andre Valbonais looked on puzzled, confused. He danced with several -other girls, he chatted with the mothers and fathers, but it seemed as -if one side of his nature did not respond to anything. It was so -curiously cold that the smiles Renee lavished on every one did not -arouse any jealous resentment. It was like an ice-bound stream that -would awaken presently; the spring sunshine never failed to burst the -bounds. - -They came to the end of the night's pleasure. Several lovers were -glancing at each other with confident, lingering smiles that mothers -understood and did not disapprove of, even while they hurried their -daughters away. - -"There can be but one more ball, Lent falls so early," said some one. - -"True. Well, let us make it on Tuesday night." - -"Oh, you forget! That is the masked ball." - -"What matter, so long as there is dancing and fun?" - -"But we are not all allowed at the masked ball. That is more for the -older people. Oh, I hope next year I shall be a queen!" - -So they chatted in their gay youth. Andre fastened Renee's fur cloak and -drew the hood over her face. Had she ever looked so sweet and -bewildering before? Monsieur Laflamme wished her good-night and happy -dreams, then bending low, whispered: - -"But they must be of me. I shall dream of you." - -She colored vividly. - -The quiet streets were filled with echoes of talk. Two or three dropped -out here, a few more there. Renee and Andre called out good-night and -turned in their square. - -Gaspard Denys was smoking his pipe before the cheerful blazing fire, a -picture of comfort. - -"Oh, you lazy uncle!" Renee cried, but her voice had gayety, and not -disappointment in it. "You did not come to see me as the queen. And I -may never be that again." - -"A queen! And whose queen, pray?" - -"M. Laflamme chose me. And M. Rive was one of the kings. I don't know -why, but I believe I like him better. And he looked especially well -to-night. Why didn't you come?" with an enchanting pout of her rosy -lips. - -"I had a long list of accounts to go over. And then, pretty one, you had -Andre to bring you home. Besides, I am growing old and, like Mere Lunde, -love the chimney corner." - -"Oh, you are not old! I will not have you growing old. Why, the fathers -with their grown-up children were there. And some women have -grandchildren. Good-night, Andre," nodding to him. - -Andre took his dismissal cheerfully. - -Renee crawled in Gaspard's lap and put her soft arms about his neck, -laid her cheek to his. - -"Oh," she cried in a tone of pathos, "I do not want you ever to get old! -You are just right now." - -"My dear, do you want always to stay fifteen?" - -"Yes, I should be glad to. Oh, what makes the world whirl round so! And -I shall be sixteen in the summer, and then--no, I won't go on. Can't you -take something, do something----" - -"There was a man once who fell asleep and slept for years. When he awoke -his friends were dead, or had gone away----" - -"Oh, hush! hush! I do not mean anything so dreadful as that," she -entreated. - -"Then we must go on and take all the pleasure we can to-day, or -to-night--though I believe it is to-morrow morning now, and you must run -to bed." - -She kissed him and turned slowly. She wanted to ask some curious -questions, but they were vague and would not readily shape themselves -into words. - -He still sat and thought. Sixteen. It gave him an uneasy feeling. If she -could always stay a little girl! If he might map out her life! Andre -Valbonais had the making of a fine, trusty man, a good business man as -well. If he could come here as a son of the house. If they three could -go on together, and a merry throng of children grow up about them! - -The dream was rudely broken to fragments the next day. The young man of -six or seven and twenty who stood leaning against the counter, one foot -half crossed over the other, with an easy, gentlemanly air that -betokened training beyond what the average habitant of the new countries -acquired, was well calculated to win a woman's heart, a girl's heart, -perhaps too easily caught, satisfied with the outward indications of -manliness. Gaspard Denys could not quite tell why, but in his heart he -did not altogether approve of this fine gentlemen, for all his good -looks, his well-modulated voice and excellent breeding. - -And he had asked him for the pride of his eye, the idol of his heart, -the dearest thing on earth, to take her away for years, perhaps forever, -and leave him to the loneliness of old age! And, monstrous thought, he -was persuaded that Renee would love him when he had spoken. He had seen -indications of it. Last evening he had startled her by some vehemence, -for in spite of her apparent gayety and merriment she was a tender, -sensitive plant. He would woo her with the utmost gentleness after the -permission was once given. - -"She is so young," Gaspard Denys began reluctantly. "Whether a girl at -that time of life knows her own mind, is able to choose wisely----" - -"But it is the guardians and parents generally who choose. A little -advice, suggestion--and I think I can satisfy you on any point you -desire. Ma'm'selle Renee would go back to the standing of her father's -family. She would have advantages, and I may succeed to a title. Still, -now I only present myself, and rely upon no adventitious aids." - -"It would be--for her to decide. And I would rather have her here. Her -father, it seems, cared little enough about her. No, I do not think I -could give her up," decisively. - -"But it is not absolutely necessary that I return to France," in a -gravely gentle tone. "After my affairs in Montreal are settled, which I -hope will turn out profitably, I should be free to do as I liked, or as -another liked," smiling affably. - -"We will not decide this matter hastily. If you chose to go to Montreal, -and the spring will soon open," M. Denys said tentatively. - -M. Laflamme thought he had only to ask to have. He fancied Gaspard Denys -would be very glad to marry his adopted daughter into a good family--for, -after all, her grandfather had not been held in high esteem. A little -persuasion on Denys's part, a little setting forth of the advantages, -and he could manage to do the rest by flattery and cajolery. He began to -half wish he had not taken a step in the matter, but he could not draw -back now. - -"I should like to know that my suit was favorably looked upon before I -went," was the rejoinder. - -"Oh, you may soon know that. To-morrow, perhaps." - -"Meanwhile may I see Ma'm'selle de Longueville?" - -"She is at the Marchands'." - -Monsieur Laflamme bowed. He did not care to subject himself to the -clear, intent eyes of Madame Marchand. They were too penetrating. - -A fortune was not so easily won, after all. Fate was playing at -cross-purposes. Renee and Wawataysee were skimming over the lake in an -ice boat. If he had guessed that he might have walked home with her in -the twilight. - -Renee was brilliant with the bloom of the frosty air as she came in, and -her eyes were like stars. A pang went to Gaspard's heart. Ought she not -take her place on a higher round than this little town of traders and -trappers and farmers, many of them scarcely knowing how to read? There -might be beautiful, satisfactory years before her--years with educated, -refined people. He knew something of the larger cities and their -advantages; he could guess at many of the charms of the beautiful, -fascinating, historic Paris, with its palaces and villas and works of -art and wonderful gardens. Should she be shut out of all these and -affiliate with the wilderness of the New World? No. If it broke his -heart, she should be free to choose. - -"You had a fine time!" he commented. - -"Oh, splendid! Do you know, I shall hate to have the snow and ice -vanish! Oh, you should have seen the sky to-night when the red sun -dropped down behind the mountains and everything was illumined as from -some mighty blaze. And then fading, changing to such gorgeous colors. -Oh, what is back of it all? What wonderful power and glory?" - -Yes, she was capable of appreciating higher and finer opportunities than -any she would ever have here. - -He went through to the shop. He could not enjoy the fire when Mere Lunde -was clattering pots and pans. But he had his own, if the place was a -conglomeration of everything. He had made himself a big, easy chair, and -the great buffalo-skin thrown over it kept off drafts. The fire was -poked up; the dry pine made an exhilarating blaze, and the pungency -affected one like drinking wine--sent a thrill to the farthest pulse. - -Renee came and stood in the light of the blaze, that made a Rembrandt -picture of her. She watched the dancing, leaping flames. She smiled, -turned grave, then smiled again, and presently caught sight of the -serious face watching her. - -"What is it?" she asked, dropping down on a log, fur-covered for a -stool. - -"Renee, I wonder if you would like to go away and visit wonderful, -beautiful countries, where people have books and pictures and fine -houses, and where there are elegant men and women----" - -"Why? Are you going?" - -She took the rather rough hand in hers, soft as velvet, and gazed at him -out of surprised eyes. - -"Would you like to go?" studying her lovely face. - -"Not without you," gravely. - -"But if some one younger and handsome, well-informed, accustomed to a -more refined life, should care for you, should want to take you, -should----" - -"Oh, what is it you mean? And who is it? And I could not go unless"--her -face was scarlet--"unless he married me, I know that. And there is no one -I would marry. Do you think I would go away and leave you, when I love -you so, when you wanted me and no one else did? Why, I would not marry a -king!" and she clasped her arms about his neck. - -Then a sudden knowledge flashed over her. She recalled last evening. - -"I know!" she exclaimed. "It is Monsieur Laflamme. And he dared----" - -She clinched her small fist. - -"Then he spoke last night? And you----" - -"No, he did not speak. But you can make one understand. Perhaps he might -have, but Andre came." - -Renee rose suddenly and stretched up her full height. - -"Then he did mean-- Andre said he was only pretending. I should hate him -still more if he could do that! But if he thinks I care for him and -would go away with him to the fairest spot in the world--oh, you do not -want me to!" and she threw herself into his arms, sobbing vehemently. - -"Renee, child, there is no harm done. He was very gentlemanly. He asked -for your hand as an honest man should. And we cannot blame him -altogether," a spice of humor in his tone. "He fancied you cared for -him. Men occasionally make mistakes." - -Had she made him believe that? She had tried somewhat without -considering the consequences. The little triumph _had_ appealed to her -girlish vanity. How could she explain it? - -"I liked him a little," she confessed brokenly. "And I was proud and -delighted to be chosen his queen. But I do not want him to love me. I do -not want any one to love me but just you. I shall never love any one -else." - -It was a very sweet confession, but she did not know what it meant. So -her mother had said, and he wanted to believe he had held _her_ truest -faith, and this had descended to her child. - -"Then what am I to tell him? That you are too young to think about such -things?" - -"That I shall never think about him in that manner. Oh, make him -understand that!" - -"There, dear, it is not worth crying over. He is not the first man who -has found the rose out of reach or been pricked by thorns." - -Gaspard turned up the sweet, flushed, tear-wet face and kissed it. He -was so glad to have it back safe and innocent of the great knowledge -that sooner or later comes to all womanhood. Some day it would come to -her, but let him keep his little girl as long as he could. - -So it was all settled, but Renee could not feel quite at rest about it. -These people did not make tyrants of conscience; they were not -analytical nor given to inquisitorial scrutiny of every feeling or -motive. The priests were as simple-hearted as the people. True, some of -them were considered rather lax when they had left their people open to -Protestant influences. But here there were no Protestants, no religious -arguments. To tell the truth, to be honest, just and kindly was creed -enough for the women. Their hearts were not probed to the deepest -thought. They confessed a bit of temper, a little envying, perhaps some -laxness about prayers, and took a simple penance. Church-going was one -of their pleasures. - -Yet Renee had a kind of misgiving that she had thrown at Monsieur -Laflamme some of those radiant looks that might mean much or little, -according to one's way of translating them. She put the thought of -marriage far away from her. Some time a delightful, devoted man, like M. -Marchand, might cross her path. He was so strong and yet so gentle. He -was always thinking of what would please Wawataysee. Even now, with two -babies, he went out rambling with her, and they came home laden with -wild flowers or berries. Then it was out canoeing, of which the young -wife was extremely fond. - -But it did not seem as if M. Laflamme would be given to this kind of -devotion. He would seek to bend a woman to his will. There were wives -who cheerfully bowed their heads to their masters, but as a general -thing these simple-minded French husbands were not tyrants. - -She did not like him to come so near; it made her afraid. And, girlish -contradiction, she had delighted in her power of bringing him near, of -tasting the sweets of a certain kind of exaction. Andre always yielded -to her whims and seldom had any will of his own. - -She sat in the garden awhile listening to the birds and a pretty -black-eyed squirrel, who kept running up and down the tree beside her -and looking as if he would presently jump on her shoulder. Then she saw -Andre coming up the path, and a tormenting impulse seized her. She -skipped across the grass with a triumph of laughter in her eyes. - -"Andre!" she cried gayly. "Andre, you were quite mistaken--" How should -she word it? - -"Mistaken! About what?" and he raised his honest eyes, half amused. - -"About--Monsieur Laflamme. You said that he did not mean anything; that -he only cared to win a girl's heart and cast it away. It is not true. -You were very unjust. He has been here. He has asked Uncle Gaspard for -my hand. He would like to marry me. And I am not quite sixteen!" in a -tone of exultation. - -She mistook the fleeting color for a fit of vexation that he had been -wrong, though people generally turned red when they were angry. It -seemed to him all the blood rushed out of his body, whither he knew not, -but left him as one dead. And there was a solemn tolling of bells in his -ears. - -She was enjoying his unlooked-for mood with a certain sense of triumph. - -"Oh, the pity of the blessed saints, of the sweet Virgin herself! And -you mean to marry him!" - -"Well, if I did?" saucily. "I dare say there are girls who would jump at -the prospect." - -"But you know next to nothing about him. He may have a wife already -somewhere. Such things have been. Oh, Monsieur Denys cannot, will not -let you go!" - -That was like a strain of sweet music to her. Then she laughed and he -looked puzzled. - -"Oh," with an airy toss of the head, "I don't believe Uncle Gaspard -would break my heart and make me miserable if I had cared a great deal -for M. Laflamme. But I do not want to marry any one. I do not want to go -away. I am very happy here. Why, there isn't a man in the world like -Uncle Gaspard!" - -There was a great revulsion in every pulse. The warm blood came back to -Andre's cheek and the strange look went out of his eyes. - -"But you see you _were_ mistaken. You gave him hard and unjust judgment. -I suppose he must have loved me or he wouldn't have wanted to marry me. -There is no lack of pretty girls in the town." - -She held her head with triumphant assurance. Her eyes were brimming -over, her red lips full of saucy curves, in which seemed to lurk budding -kisses for some lover. - -But Andre blundered, as inexperience sometimes will. - -"It is not only the beauty, ma'm'selle. Laure Eudeline is like a -picture, but without a sou or a silver spoon for her portion. Has M. -Laflamme looked at her twice? And you have a dot that would make many -men covet you. Every one knows it will only grow larger in M'sieu -Denys's hands. And I dare say _he_ would like the pleasure of handling -it." - -Renee had rarely thought of her fortune. And the most exquisite, the -most romantic dream of a young girl is to be loved for herself alone. -Andre had suddenly dashed this enchanting belief to fragments. Yes, -there _was_ the fortune, a hard, solemn fact. Must she suspect every one -henceforward? - -"Andre," she cried in passionate anger, "you are small and mean and -suspicious! I hate you!" - -It was the truth, since Andre had heard Madame Aubry and one or two -others commend Monsieur Laflamme for his wisdom. Some man would marry -Mademoiselle de Longueville in a year or two. But it was an unfortunate -way of putting her on guard. And it stings a girl with mortification to -hear a man belittled who has paid her the compliment of a marriage -proposal. - -The young fellow walked away. There was something fine and solid about -him, she had to admit, angry as she was. Almost as tall as Uncle Gaspard -and with a compact, yet lithesome figure, carrying his head well, -stepping with decision and having an air of command with most people, -but never with her, for she ruled him. - -Her anger was short-lived, after all. When she quarrelled with him there -always came up a procession of remembrances. She knew now what might -have been her fate as a captive, and he had saved her from that. He had -gone without food that she and Wawataysee would not lose their strength -until they had reached some place of safety. He had carried her that -last night. Yes, she was an ungrateful, exasperating little thing, and -after all she did not _really_ hate him. She would not even want him to -go out of her life. Suddenly she thought she would not even like him to -love some other girl. - -He had a long conversation with Gaspard Denys that comforted him a good -deal. Denys was like an older brother, taking a great interest in his -advancement, advising him as to what was best to do with his savings, -but as yet he had never said, "You had better marry some nice, thrifty -girl." Somehow he was very glad of that. - -She lingered around in the old garden and the happy light came back to -her eyes, the balmy air soothed her ruffled temper. In her secret heart -she believed M. Laflamme had really loved her. If there were other -pretty girls in the world, there were other rich girls, too. In Canada, -where he was going, there were real heiresses, though how much it took -to constitute one she had no idea. - -He did not come through the garden. Perhaps he meant to stay to supper. -Then she would be rather grave and dignified, and show him that he had -seriously offended her. - -"Renee! Renee, _petite_!" called Mere Lunde. - -There was a quick stride down the street. It turned the corner. She -pulled a rose and unthinkingly pressed it to her lips. - -"Andre!" she said in a rather appealing tone. - -The tall figure bent over the fence, and the eyes were touched with an -eager, responsive light. - -"Andre, were you _very_ angry? I was----" - -"Oh, ma'm'selle, who could long be angry with one so charming?" and his -whole heart was in his voice. - -She gave him the rose. "I must run in to supper," and she vanished like -a sprite. - -"She kissed the rose," he said, pressing it to his lips. "Oh, -ma'm'selle, no sweeter flower ever bloomed. But you are a rose set in -thorns. The fragrance clings to you, the thorns prick others." - - - - -CHAPTER XVI - -THE RISE IN THE RIVER - - -There was news enough at Madame Renaud's. Every year she grew a little -stouter, a trifle more consequential. The grandmeres always were. Elise -and Louis both had little daughters. There had been sons before, but -granddaughters were rather nearer, it seemed. She must make a -christening cake for both, and she thanked the saints that the church -had been freshened up a little and that the good Vicar-General had made -a gift of a new altar cloth. - -The other news was not so joyous. Barbe Gardepier had never been home -since her marriage. Women travelled very seldom in those days. Once her -baby boy had been born and died, then her little girl was just born. And -now she had lost her husband, and was coming back to St. Louis to live. - -Jean Gardepier had died early in the winter. But news was slow in -coming. This had been sent with the first relay of boats, and she would -be up in June with her little girl. - -"And to think of the sorrow of the poor thing!" exclaimed Madame Renaud, -wiping her eyes. "Here I have my good man Louis and my four children -around me, three of them in homes of their own, and never a sorrow, -while she is left alone to sup bitter grief! And not a relative near -her! The saints be praised when it is possible for families to stay -together. Then there is a friendly voice to console you." - -They all remembered pretty Barbe Guion. The old grandmere had died--that -was natural in old age--but aunts and uncles and cousins were living, so -it was a family grief. - -But the christening came to break the sorrow and there was a grand time. -Spring had come late this year. With a rather hard winter, streams and -rivers had been choked with ice, but now all was bloom and beauty and -gladness. - -There were always some special prayers and a mass said on Corpus Christi -day, and it was kept with great seriousness at Gaspard Denys'. But the -Indians all about were so friendly that fears were allayed, though the -town was better protected now. - -There had been very heavy spring rains, and this, with the sunshine, -gave promise of abundant harvests. Farmers had begun to plant wheat and -rye, which brought back old memories of pleasant life in sunny France -when taxes and tithes were not too high. - -Amid all this smiling content there was one morning a strange sound. Men -paused at their work and listened. Sometimes in a high wind the sound -came rushing over the prairie like the tramp of an army, and seemed to -threaten everything with destruction. Occasionally the river rose, but -since the founding of the towns no great harm had been done. - -On it came, nearer, with a thundering boom that now could not be -mistaken. Men rushed to the levee to be sure that the boats were made -safe. They looked up the river, standing on the high ground. What was -this terror marching toward them? A seething, foaming flood with great, -dark waves tossing up a yellow-black spray, sweeping all before it. - -"The river! The river is rising!" was shouted by terrified voices, and -men looked at each other in fear. They had never seen anything like it. -There had been freshets that had done considerable damage, torn out -banks and sent down great drifts of broken and uprooted trees. There had -been ice gorges, when the cakes of ice would pile up like Arctic mounds, -crashing, thundering, and suddenly give way, dazzling in the sunshine -like a fleet of boats and, sweeping down the river, crush whatever was -in its way. - -But this was a great wall, starting up no one knew where, swelled by the -streams, expanded by the Missouri, sweeping all before it, submerging -Gaboret Island, gathering momentum every moment, swirling at every point -and curve, as if longing to beat them out of existence, and with an -accumulation of uprooted trees so jammed together that many of them -stood upright, a great army of devastation. - -The current was very swift in any freshet. Although it was called the -great river, that applied more to its length, for here it was not much -over two thousand feet wide. But it was deep, with a dangerous power -when it rose in its might, and fed by so many streams and tributaries -that the _debris_ was constantly washing down to the gulf at its -numerous mouths. - -They gazed in speechless terror at first, as if they would be helpless -in the grasp of such a giant, and the roar was appalling. The spray -seemed dashed up in the very face of heaven; the rending, tearing and -crushing was terrific. The very trees shrieked as they were torn from -their foundation. On it rushed, a great, dark, fierce wall, sweeping -everything in its way, tearing out banks, booming like the roar of -artillery, shrieking with madness, as if hundreds of people were crying -out for help and safety. The crowd looked at each other in dismay. Some -fled to the next higher range, many sank helplessly to the ground, -others were on their knees praying. And when it struck the little town -it seemed like a mighty earthquake, and the ground fairly shuddered as -it rushed by furiously. - -The boats that had been drawn up to a safe line, as was thought, were -swept off to join the mad, careering mass and add to the rending, -deafening sound. And when the first accumulation had swept by and was -whirling around the bend of the river another and still another -followed. Was the whole north going to be precipitated upon them? - -The curve in the river did the town this much good: it swept the fierce -current to the eastern side, tore out, submerged, and by the time it -turned it was below the town. They were not to be swept quite away, and -some of the braver ones began to take courage and ventured to look at -the levee below. That was gone, of course. - -It was a day and a night of terror. The flood had submerged a part of -the Rue Royale and some of the residents had moved their belongings to -higher ground. Trading houses had been emptied of their goods. Gaspard -Denys shrugged his shoulders with intense satisfaction. Up here past the -Rue de l'Eglise all was safe and dry. - -For days there seemed a spell upon the people. They could do little -besides watch the receding river and view the wreckage it had left in -its wake. Great caves and indentations on the opposite shore, bare -spaces where trees had waved their long green arms joyously in the -sunshine a few days ago. Yet they found they had not fared so badly. -Everybody turned out to help repair damages. - -What of the fleet of boats coming up the river? What of the towns below? - -"And my poor Barbe!" cried Madame Renaud. "Why, they would be almost -home, unless the boats were swept to destruction. Only a miracle could -have saved them. And oh, then, where are they?" - -True. The waters had subsided so much it would be safe to go in search -of them. There were several coves less infested now with pirates than -formerly, where boats sometimes put in to avoid the storms. Colonel -Chouteau at once had two boats made ready and stored with provisions, in -case of a rescue of any voyagers. - -Then some trading fleets ventured from St. Charles. All along the shores -on both sides were marks of devastation. Great chasms had been created -here, and there mounds of broken trees and tons of river mud deposited -over them. Gaboret Island began to show its head, but it had been swept -clean. - -The farther down the river went, the more appalling had been the -destruction. The fate of the towns below they could only guess at, but -the news came presently. Cahokia had been nearly swept out of existence. -Part of Kaskaskia, the oldest part built on the river bluff, had been -torn away by the resistless force. People were flying hither and -thither, having lost their all. - -Andre Valbonais had headed the rescuing party--if, indeed, there was -anything to rescue. The mighty river had gone back to its normal state; -the banks, encrusted with yellow mud, were drying in the sun. They found -curious changes. Two of the little coves were filled with _debris_ and -gave no indication of sheltering any travellers. - -They passed the Miramec River with no sign. That, too, had all its banks -submerged, and the tough grasses and reeds were just rearing their -heads. On again, here was quite a bluff. Just around the turn had been a -noted pirate resort, broken up two or three times; at the last time with -the cost of a number of lives. - -"Do you suppose it will be safe?" queried the captain. "There may be -Indians in hiding." - -Valbonais reconnoitred awhile. "Up above there is the smoke of a fire," -he said. "And I think I see a boat just beyond the turn. Get your arms, -men, and be ready to back out if we are in danger." - -They crept on cautiously. Now they could see two boats drawn up on a -ledge. Farther up there was a cluster of men. - -"They are not pirates, surely. They would have some scouts stationed if -they were." - -"They are making signs. Oh, no, they are neither Indians nor pirates," -and the captain dug the pole in the soft bank, impelling the boat up a -yard or two. And then he heard a joyful cry, which he answered by an -encouraging greeting through the horn he carried. - -It was, indeed, the stranded voyagers. The captain of the fleet came -running down the winding path. He was a Spaniard, quite well known in -St. Louis, Dessous by name. - -As to his story, all had been fair sailing, with mostly fine weather -until they had reached this point. At the first sight they feared a -hurricane was upon them. The river began to seethe and swell, and the -noise of its rush sounded the awful warning in their ears. The boats had -been cordelled, and now the order was given to run them in the cove. Two -had reached a point of safety when the sweeping torrent invaded this -shelter and took with it the rest of the line to join the raging flood. - -The few passengers were in the first boat, and were soon put ashore and -bidden to run upon the high ground. Then an effort was made to save the -two remaining boats. Now and then a swirl nearly submerged them, but a -mass of tree trunks and branches caught on some projection at the mouth -of the cove, which turned the current and gave them a promise of safety. -There was a cave, partly natural, and rendered more secure by the gang -of pirates who had once made it their camping ground. But now it began -to fill with water. So they carried some of their stores and blankets to -a sheltered place up above to await the result. Even here they could -hear the roar of the river. - -When Captain Dessous thought it safe to venture, they examined the boats -and found one with a large hole in the bottom where it had struck on the -jagged rock. They had provisions and made a rude shelter for the women, -three ladies and a maid, and a little child. It would not be safe to -venture until the river had subsided, so they had waited. All could not -go in the one boat, and to leave the others at the mercy of prowling -Indians, or, it might be, a return of some pirate squad, was hardly -safe. Still some of the more courageous men had agreed to remain, and -they had decided to start shortly. It was full moon now and the night -would be light enough for safety if they were caught in it, for no one -could calculate the exact distance or the obstacles they would have to -encounter. - -Now all was joyous satisfaction. The stores from the injured boat were -divided among the other two, and the women taken on board the rescue -boat. They found their way out to the river, now flowing along serenely. -But there would be the tide against them. Still they were delighted at -the thought of soon reaching a safe harbor. The moon came out in its -most resplendent beauty. The banks of the river were a series of -bewildering pictures for any one with an artistic eye. The men sang -songs in French and Spanish, and would have danced if there had been -room. - -"They are coming up the river!" some one shouted in the light of the -golden June morning. "There is Captain Javelot and Andre Valbonais. I -can make them out through the glass. And some women." - -One and another hurried down. Christophe Baugenon expected his -sweetheart, and had been getting a nest ready for her. Madame Galette -had come up to end her days with her two sons. Gaspard Denys was there -as well, anxious to know how the peril had been escaped. - -There was a lovely woman with a babe in her arms. The Spanish veil-like -mantilla was thrown gracefully over her head and shoulders. Her soft, -dark eyes glanced up and met those of Denys, who stretched out his hand -past that of Valbonais in a heartfelt greeting. - -"Barbe!" he cried. "Barbe!" forgetting she had any other name. - -"Oh, Monsieur Denys, thank heaven!" - -Madame Renaud came rushing down with a wild cry and flung her arms -around her sister. - -"Let me take the child," Gaspard said, while the two women fell into -each other's embrace. - -A pretty little thing of three or so, with rings of dark hair about her -forehead and curiously tinted eyes, black with golden shades in them. -She laid her hand confidingly on his shoulder. Children always trusted -him. - -"Marie! Marie!" called Madame Gardepier. "Take the little Angelique. -Monsieur Denys, how can I thank you?" - -She was lovelier than ever with her eyes full of tears. Elise had been -crying over her. - -Marie was maid and slave, about as much Spanish as African, slim and -graceful, and with the beauty belonging to the mixed blood. The child -made no demur, but bestowed a dainty smile upon him. - -"Oh--it is nothing." He had not come expecting to meet her, though he had -wondered a little about her. - -"But to be here again! To have a welcome from you, an old friend! Yes, -it is joy indeed." - -Christophe Baugenon had his arms about his sweetheart. They were glad to -have half the world share their joys, in those early days when honesty -was more than style or culture. - -"Come soon," said Madame Renaud. "We are all such old friends. And Barbe -will have so much to tell. And bring ma'm'selle: she can't have -forgotten. Oh, Barbe, she is a young lady now!" laughing cheerily. - -Then they moved on, while his eyes followed them. - -Already men were repairing the levee, or, rather, building it anew under -Colonel Chouteau's direction. Some other overflow in time would sweep -this away, but this was the best of their knowledge then. And the -unfortunate captain had his story to tell. He had saved his papers and -bills of lading, and could tell upon whom the losses would fall. There -were some shipments for Denys, but he was glad no lives had been lost. -Andre was describing their share of the rescue in brief terms. So it was -late when M. Denys returned. - -"We waited and waited for you!" cried Renee. "And the breakfast was so -good--the corn cakes Mere Lunde makes that melt in your mouth." - -And truly even those wilderness women, with no culinary magazines or -housekeeping hints, concocted very savory dishes. Their grater was of -the rudest kind. A strip of tin through which a sharpened bit of iron -was driven to make holes, the rough side put upward as it was fastened -to a piece of board. On this they grated green corn all the summer and -autumn. During the winter they boiled it on the ear until it was soft, -then prepared it the same way. The cakes were mixed with eggs and flour -and baked on a hot flat stone in the heat of the coals. A syrup made of -maple sugar would be poured over them. - -"Yes, I am very sorry--and hungry," laughing. "There was so much to talk -about." - -"And was any one lost? Where did they find the boats?" Renee was all -eagerness. - -"There were only two. The rest were swept away. They took shelter in -Pirate Creek, but the pirates have been cleaned out. It might have been -worse. The losses can be recouped. Ah, you should have seen the joy of -Christophe Baugenon over his sweetheart! Madame Galette, and Madame -Gardepier with her little girl." - -"She is quite old now," said Renee, with the assurance of youth that is -its own hasty judge. - -"Oh, no! Five or six and twenty. And her little girl is about three, a -pretty child. Madame Renaud was wild with delight, as who would not be. -And she begs that we will come soon." - -Renee had busied herself with a pretence of getting the meal, but it was -Mere Lunde who had toasted the corn cake and the dried fish. It seemed -to her as if a tiny shade had fallen over the world, but no, the sun was -shining with extraordinary brilliancy. It made the leaves outside -scatter its golden rays about as if they were sprites dancing. - -"The blessed Virgin has been very good to her," said Mere Lunde, -crossing herself. "Such a fearful time! I hope there never will be -another. And Madame Galette. I knew her years ago. She has two good sons -left." - -An event like this made talk for days, especially as the men were busy -repairing damages, and the captains had to tell their stories over and -over. Then the next relay of boats came in with the news of the other -towns, and that families were resolving to emigrate. Indeed, before cold -weather set in quite a number of families had reached St. Louis, and -many a winter evening was devoted to a recount of dangers and wonderful -escapes, the destruction of many a small fortune. - -There was not a happier heart in all St. Louis, perhaps, than that of -Barbe Gardepier. If her marriage had not been altogether satisfactory, -she would not at first confess it to her sister. New Orleans was very -different from St. Louis. Pleasures were not so simple. There were -cabarets where men spent evenings drinking and playing games, betting -and losing. And there were balls where men never took their wives, but -danced with beautiful creole girls who were outside the pale of their -own people. True, the wives visited each other and gossiped about this -and that, and went to church often, at times finding a choice morsel of -scandal to discuss. She had longed for her own old home, and as the -weeks and months went on she seemed to grow away from her husband rather -than nearer to him. He had not appeared to mind the baby's death much, -while it had almost broken her heart. - -She had been bitterly disappointed in the non-success of her second plan -to visit home, as she still called the old town. - -"It is too severe a journey," her husband had said decisively. "And it -is a dull little place at the best. I would not stir a step if I were -not compelled to." - -For all that he seemed to find plenty to amuse himself with. Coming down -the river, he had made a stay at Kaskaskia, where pretty girls abounded. -When he did return there was a little daughter to claim his love; but he -was not fond of babies. Girls were all right enough budding into -womanhood, with a hundred seductive charms. Until then, the nursery and -the convent. - -Barbe might have found amusement and danced with the gayest, but she -soon learned that her husband was jealous and could say very bitter -things. So she kept to her little girl and poured out all her love on -this sweet object. There were moments when she could not even bear to -think that Jean Gardepier was her father. - -One night he was brought home with a bad stab wound, the result of a -quarrel. It did not seem dangerous at first, but he fumed and fretted -and would go out too soon. He was quite ill again, and then it was found -that the wound had penetrated his lung, and, after a few hemorrhages, he -dropped quietly out of life. There was not much money left, but enough -to take her home and keep her for awhile, and though she tried hard to -moderate her joy at the thought, in her inmost heart she felt it was -partly the sense of freedom. - -And Gaspard Denys had been first to welcome her. The years had touched -him lightly. His face had the same strong kindliness that had made her -feel in her girlhood that he was a man to be trusted anywhere, a man one -could rely upon. She had learned many things in these few years of her -married life. She had had a much wider experience than Madame Renaud -with sons-in-law and daughter-in-law and the many years since she became -a bride. - -Neighbors came out to greet them. It was like a triumphal procession. -Indeed, it seemed as if all the streets were full of gay, cheerful -chatter. For in those days there was very little letter-writing; indeed, -many fine housekeepers and excellent women did not know how to write. - -Late in the afternoon the sisters were alone. Nearly every one had been -discussed, and Barbe knew about most of the marriages and deaths, the -new babies, the few newcomers and the general prosperity, as well as the -losses. - -"I was extremely pleased with that young Valbonais," Barbe said. "He has -improved very much. Is he connected in business now with Monsieur -Denys?" - -"Oh, no; he remains with the Chouteaus. But he is a frequent guest, and -one can almost see how it will end," laughing with a certain -satisfaction. - -"You mean--with the child?" - -"Yes. She is a very pretty girl. She was at two of the balls last -winter, though not a queen. There was a stranger, two of them, staying -with the Governor. One cared little for gayety; the other was much -smitten with the attractive Renee, and there was talk, but it fell -through. It was said that he really did ask for her hand. But I think M. -Denys would much rather have her remain here. She is like a child to -him." - -Barbe nodded. "Still she is old enough to marry." - -"Oh, yes. Then her grandfather left quite a fortune, as I have told you. -She is very young for her years, though--a child in some things." - -Barbe drew a long breath. "It is a little singular that M. Denys has -never married," she said indifferently. - -"Oh, he may marry yet. There is always time for a man." - -Madame Renaud gave a meaning laugh. Barbe felt her color rising, but -vouchsafed no reply. - -That evening after supper M. Denys said: - -"Let us go down to the Renauds', my child, and welcome Madame Gardepier -home." - -"Why, you saw her this morning! I thought everybody was giving her a -welcome. She will be tired of so much," was the rather careless reply. - -"One is never tired of friendly appreciation." - -"Indeed?" almost saucily. "They may tire of other things, however. I was -running races on the old mound this afternoon. I would like to sit and -rest and talk." - -"Running races! And in the winter you were asked in marriage!" He -laughed heartily and pinched her peachy cheek. - -"Mere Lunde said sometimes princesses in France were asked in marriage -when they were only a few years old," she replied with dignity. - -"That is true enough. Offered to this one and that. But I do not hawk my -little queen about." - -"You love me very much?" - -She uttered it with a soft sigh that was quite charming and touched him. - -"Ah, you know that!" with fervor. - -"But I like to hear you say it," pleadingly. - -"I love you very much." He bent over and kissed the crown of her head, -adding, "Then you will not go?" - -"Stay with me," she entreated. "You haven't told me half the story of -the boat coming in this morning." - -There was a light, youthful step on the floor. - -"Ah, Andre!" Denys said, turning. "Come and tell this girl the welcomes -that filled the air this morning, the finding of the castaways and all. -You were there, and she can have it first-hand. Meanwhile, I will run -down to the Renauds' and see if Madame Gardepier is any the worse for -her journey." - -Renee could have cried out with vexation. Denys did not even stop to -light his pipe. - -"Let us go in the garden, ma'm'selle. It is so beautiful in the -starlight, and the air is fragrant with a hundred sweet scents. I wish -you could have had the sail last night. It was the kind of thing to fill -one's soul with rapture." - -"I am tired!" she cried pettishly. "That was why I refused to go with -uncle. And I don't care so much about the rescue. People are crazy, as -if nothing ever happened in St. Louis before. And my head aches. I -believe I will go to bed." - -She sprang up impatiently. - -"I am sorry----" - -"There are plenty of girls who will be glad to have you talk to them," -she flung out, and the next moment had vanished. - -Andre looked after her. He was very much in love with her now. He had -been more than charmed with the young Indian girl. He had even thought -if it was true M. Marchand was dead, he would try to comfort her, to win -her. But when he witnessed her love for her husband, her entire -devotion, and the tone in which she once said: "I think I must have had -the hope in my heart all the time that my husband was alive, and that -gave me strength when it seemed as if I must drop by the wayside. And if -I had not found him I should have died, because there would have been no -further desire to live," he believed her then. He knew now that must -have been the end. To be loved like that! Could Fate bestow anything -better? - -But last winter a different feeling had taken possession of him. First -it was an effort to save Renee from a possible danger. He had seen -considerable of Monsieur Laflamme and had no faith whatever in him. He -was quite sure it was her fortune that had attracted him, for he was -paying an equivocal sort of devotion to several others, or else he was -just trifling with them all, taking what amusement he could in the -simple pleasures of the place. - -And now he knew that he had a desire quite for himself! True he would -have saved her from any possible evil, but he wanted her, the smiles and -the sweetness she lavished on Uncle Denys and Mere Lunde, the radiance -and charm that she flung here and there. He would have liked to go about -and gather them up as if they were tangible things. And yet--she did not -care for him. Why, then, did she claim him in dozens of dainty ways? Why -did she put him between herself and other gallants when their devotion -became too pronounced? - -Andre Valbonais was simple and straightforward, and had a very limited -knowledge of the twists and turns in the feminine mind. Complex -characters are not usual where people live truly rather than take -continual thought about living. - -He went out now and sat on the doorstep, talking to Mere Lunde. Some one -was playing on a fiddle, interspersed with rollicking songs, and the -sound floated up to them. There was a great deal of joy in the world, -but his heart was heavy. - -Renee flung herself on the bed and wept angrily, bitterly. Barbe -Gardepier had come into her life again and was free. She had summoned -Uncle Gaspard this first night to her side. Had he loved her a little -long ago? Would she try to win him now? Oh, what a dreary outlook! And -she had been so happy! - - - - -CHAPTER XVII - -RIVALS - - -Gaspard Denys had wondered more than once about Barbe's married life, -and at Gardepier's second visit to St. Louis he was quite convinced that -he was not the kind of man to make a tender, clinging heart happy. Women -throve and blossomed in an atmosphere of love; grew cold, pale and -listless when this was denied. It was their natural sustenance. Had this -hastened Renee Freneau's death? - -And when he saw Marchand's devotion and Wawataysee's delicious joy in -it, he could not tell why, but he wished such a marriage had been -Barbe's good fortune. - -He never asked himself what might have happened if he had not gone to -Canada for Renee de Longueville. He had started adventuring first in a -desperate frame of mind, and then grown to like it exceedingly. He had -purchased the old house to assist a family in distress who had lost -husband and father. On his way home with his little Renee he had -resolved to set up a household, to keep the child under his -guardianship, for he knew well Freneau would not want her. She was so -clinging, so sweet. She was a part of the adorable girl he had loved. If -he had been certain of her happiness he might have let her fade from his -mind, but a fear had always rankled with a thorn-prick. - -Did she know, would she know that he meant to lavish the love that -should have been hers on the child? What was that country like? Surely -the soul could not linger in the grave, and if it was given to one to -have glimpses of those left behind, she must rejoice. - -With his heart so engrossed he could not think, indeed, was not tempted -to a strong feeling for any other woman. Barbe was pretty and -sweet--young men were attracted to her--and he felt quite old compared -with her. Then there was so much business to occupy him, and presently -Barbe was married without a sigh of regret on his part. - -The little jealous feeling Renee displayed rather amused him. He hardly -understood the child's passionate fondness, but was not her exclusive -love something she inherited from her mother? He liked to think so. - -Now she was half woman and still kept the child's eager fondness. She -had no real lovers, even if she had been asked in marriage. And he did -not want to give her up. When he sat in the fascinating blaze of the log -fire and steeped his brain in the haze of his pipe, visions stole softly -about him. He saw Renee a happy wife, the mother of sweet, enchanting -children who would climb his knees, half strangle him with baby arms and -press soft faces against his, prattle of their love in turn. No, she -must never go away. And who would he like as well as Andre! - -And she liked him, too, in spite of her wilful manner of flouting him. -She was ready enough to put him in the face of any imaginary danger. He -was a fine, generous, wholesome young fellow, with a good business. And -he, Denys, could wait. He was not in so great a hurry to share Renee, -but he felt there was no life, no joy to a woman comparable with -wifehood and motherhood. And he wanted his darling to have the best of -everything. - -She was very quiet the next morning and stole furtive glances at him, -too proud to make any inquiry as to whether he had passed a pleasant -evening. After breakfast Andre came with a face of eager light, and yet -perplexity. - -"What is it now?" asked Denys. - -"Matter enough. I am divided in two. I have just had an offer--command, I -might say. And whether I am to take it--" looking up with uncertainty. - -"Beating about a bush doesn't always thresh off nuts. There is the right -season," and a glint of humor crossed the elder's face. "Is there a -pretty girl in it?" - -Was the world running after pretty girls? Renee frowned. - -"You would not like me to go away, ma'm'selle?" - -A sudden hope had rendered him incautious. - -"It makes no difference to me," she replied coldly. - -"What is it all about?" inquired Denys. "Where were you last night, that -you are so incoherent this morning?" - -"In the counting house with M'sieu Pierre Chouteau. In about ten days he -starts for New Orleans, and must take some one with him. He proposes the -post to me." - -Denys gave a side glance at Renee. Her face was cold, impenetrable. -Clearly she was not in love, much as she liked Andre. - -"Come in the shop!" exclaimed Denys. - -They seated themselves on bales of furs, done up ready to be transferred -to the boats. - -"It is a high compliment, Andre. And it may not be a bad thing for a -young fellow to see a little of the world and learn how to make money in -different ways. It's a much gayer place than this. And you will be in -good hands." - -"But--M. Denys, I do not want to go." - -The young fellow's face was scarlet, and his eyes were full of unspoken -hope mingled with fear. - -"And why not, Andre Valbonais?" - -"Oh, you must know, you must have guessed that I love Ma'm'selle Renee. -Ever since last winter I have known that all my heart was hers, that I -would not be satisfied until I had won her for a wife. And I do not -think--you are averse----" - -He looked so frank and sincere and honorable under the elder's scrutiny, -though his face was flushed and the lines about his mouth were -quivering. - -Denys took his arm. There was something better than a smile on the face, -a tender approval. - -"No," Denys replied in a tone that went to the young man's heart. "I -have had a little dream of the future. There is no one in St. Louis I -would so soon take as a son. For look you, Andre, I do not want to give -her up. The man who weds her must come here, must put up with me as I -grow old and full of whims. I cannot be shut out of her happiness. I -will tell you that I had a brief few months' love with her mother, and a -dream like this. Her father parted us. The child is as dear to me as if -my blood ran in her veins, and her happiness is my whole study. If you -can win her I shall be content. But women have to wait for a time to -love. And it is not her time." - -"But if I should go away--" The young fellow drew a long, sorrowing -breath. - -"It might be best, so that you come back." - -"I must stay all winter. And if some one else wins her?" he questioned -anxiously. - -"That would be a grief to me. I shall try not to have it happen. Oh, you -can trust me; only I shall not force her inclination. But there is some -comfort to take with you in my full consent." - -"You think, then, I had better go?" reluctantly. - -"It is not every day a friend like M. Chouteau is given to a young man. -And," with a vague smile, "you may even advance your suit by going. If -she should miss you, so much the better. You have given her a great deal -of devotion, perhaps too much. There are some gifts that are not -appreciated if they come too easily." - -Andre Valbonais felt as if his dream had been dashed to fragments like a -bit of glass. He had resolved he would not go away; he _would_ marry -Renee. Yet down in his heart he knew she did not love him with the -fervor of a sweetheart. But that might come when she understood how much -in earnest he was, and that her guardian really wished for the marriage. -Yet, much as he wished for it, he would not spoil his darling's life by -any over-persuasion. - -"Yes, it is a fine chance. You will be the envy of the town. And--I trust -you to come back as honorable as you go. A year soon passes." - -"It will be hard to go without speaking." - -"It will do no good." Denys shook his head. "Trust me. I have seen more -of womankind." - -"Then I must be off. I asked to consult you, and I have your answer." - -"Yes, yes! Go, by all means." - -Renee was in her room, moving articles about in an aimless fashion, -wondering how Barbe had looked and what she had said. She need not have -worried. There were a dozen other neighbors, ready to talk of the narrow -escape and compare their own town with the larger one. - -Now and then she had exchanged a word with Denys, but it seemed as if -every one talked at once. He had in his mind the picture she made in the -morning, but she did not look like that now. There were lines of care in -her face, and the prettiness had deepened into womanly beauty. - -Not a question about her did Renee ask. After dinner she took some -sewing and went to Madame Marchand's, as she often did. Francois had -been to the wharf, hurriedly constructed again, to see when the boats -were likely to go down the river, since it was now considered safe. -Andre Valbonais had told him he was going. - -"He came to see uncle this morning. I suppose that was what they talked -about," said Renee. - -The voice had the languor of indifference, and the little face, rather -pale now, betrayed no emotion. - -It was always a busy time when a fleet of boats went down. Now, there -was more talk than usual. Some of the stock had been quite spoiled by -the overflow; indeed, not a little of it had been swept out of the -storehouses and it had been impossible to save it. But men took their -losses philosophically; they would recoup themselves another year. And -they now thought it wisdom to build higher up, and leave the muddy bank -to itself. - -Andre was very busy, and truth to tell, rather downhearted. He had been -buoyant; it was his nature. But as he faced the actual now, and the -careless demeanor of Renee, he felt like one roused from a dream and -swung to the opposite verge. No, she did not care for him. Yet she had -been so sweet at times! He was in and out. Mere Lunde was full of -regrets. She was old and might never see him again. Renee said -carelessly, "We shall all miss you. I don't know what uncle would do if -he did not have M'sieu Marchand." - -She and Madame Marchand had gone to the Renauds', as was proper. -Wawataysee was charmed with the little Angelique, and they found Madame -Gardepier quite different from the women of the town, except some of the -higher ladies in the government circles, though she was very sweet and -gracious. - -Renee's heart swelled with a great jealousy. Barbe was beautiful and -grand, she could not deny it. Her voice had a lingering cadence, like a -rivulet in some forest depth, as if she might coax the heart out of one. -Renee steeled hers in a sort of desperation. Surely she was distanced. -She could not contend against these charms, any more than she could deny -them. All her life was suddenly set in the shade. - -So she could not feel much sorrow for Andre's going away; her own filled -all her heart. He might have thought her quiet a sign of it, but his -eyes seemed to have been curiously opened. - -"You will give me good wishes?" he said the last evening he came. -"And--will you not say that you shall miss me?" - -"Of course, I shall miss you," but the dreariness in the tone was not -for him. "I shall be so much alone." - -"M. Denys will be here--" He was a little puzzled. - -"Oh, yes! But, then----" - -"Renee," impetuously, "you have some sorrow. You are not like yourself. -What has happened?" - -"Yes, I have some sorrow in my heart. I cannot tell any one," and the -red lips quivered. - -"And you were so gay a little while ago. Oh, my darling--" His full heart -overflowed in his face. - -She held up her hand in entreaty. "Don't," she said in a half-irritated -way. "I shall never be any one's darling again. And," in something of -her old imperious tone, "if I cannot have the love I want I will not -have any!" - -He looked at her in amaze. Did she love some one else, then? He was -suddenly stunned. That had never entered his thoughts. - -"Oh," she exclaimed with a burst of feeling, "you have been very good to -me, Andre. You rescued me in that dreadful peril, and I shall always be -grateful. And I wish you prosperity and happiness." - -Then she vanished from the garden and shut herself in her room. When -Uncle Gaspard begged her to come out, as this was Andre's last evening, -she said her head ached and she could not bear the sound of voices. - -They went down to see the boats off, and the air was almost rent with -good wishes. This was always a great occasion. There in the foremost one -was M. Pierre Chouteau and Andre beside him, both waving their hands in -response to the "_Bon voyage!_" from a hundred throats. The Colonel -stood beside his mother, who was a proud and happy woman, and who -chatted in a charming fashion with her friends and had singled out -Barbe, it seemed, who had come with her niece Sophie. - -The line rounded the curve and began to take in the turn, and the -sailors' shouts were mere echoes. To-day the water was tranquil enough, -and the heavens so blue that all the atmosphere had an extraordinary -brilliance. - -Madame Chouteau invited some of the friends to come and dine with her. - -"I do not want to," Renee said, shrinking back. "But you go, Uncle -Gaspard, and take my excuse. I am not well. I shall go to bed and make -Mere Lunde doctor me, and be right by to-morrow." - -What was the matter with the child? She had grown pale and heavy-eyed. -He had been much engrossed with the boats and Andre's perplexity, and -the impression that she desired to evade him, so he had made it easy for -her to do so. But if she were going to be ill! - -She threaded her way homeward and sat for awhile under her favorite -tree, looking at the vision of Barbe smiling and Uncle Gaspard listening -to her attractive manner of talking and smiling back. For all the summer -sunshine she was cold, and her temples throbbed with a dull pain. She -did not want to cry outwardly, but within her heart seemed weeping -bitter tears, and its beating was like the dull thud of pounding on -lead. - -She startled Mere Lunde when she came in so wan and spiritless. The good -woman steeped some herbs, and she did really go to bed. Uncle Gaspard -did not get home until almost supper-time, and some trappers were in the -shop dickering about pelts. - -He came and sat on the side of the bed presently and held her hands, -wondering if it was a cold, and recalling the fact that he had heard -there were some cases of fever about. - -She was very languid for several days. He was down at the levee, -supervising some of the new work; indeed, it seemed as if he was in -great demand. She would curl herself up in the big chair at the corner -of the fireplace, not on account of the cold, for the door stood open, -as well as the heavy shutters, and the sunshine stole in the room, -dancing about on the floor like groups of sprites. Mere Lunde would nod -in her chair. Chloe was out in the garden, working. It was so quiet, the -very silence appealed strangely to her, and her mind wandered off to the -future. - -Some day Barbe would come here from the church leaning on Uncle -Gaspard's arm and looking up in his face with smiles, holding her pretty -child by the hand. He would love it as he had loved her. He would carry -it in his arms and hold it on his knee, listen to its chatter, just as -he had done with her. And Barbe would have dozens of different graces -and pretty ways to lure him continually. Where would she, Renee, be? Not -pushed aside, but left to her own devices, dropped out, half forgotten. - -She wiped away some tears that overflowed her eyes. When Andre came -back, if he wanted her she would marry him. It was comforting to think -some one might want her. And if he never came back, if some pretty girl -in New Orleans attracted him--ah, then, she would be lonely, indeed! -Perhaps this was the way her mother had felt in the old chateau. And her -grandfather had wanted _her_ put in a convent--perhaps it would have been -better. - -If youth can make pleasures of its own, it can also make bitter sorrows, -and in its waywardness longs to drain the cup to the last drop. Perhaps -there may be some strength in the very bitterness, a tonic to work a -cure. - -Gaspard Denys came in and found her there, picked her up, and, seating -himself, pressed her to his broad breast and encircled her with his -arms. What an exquisite shelter it was! - -"What can I do for you?" he asked. "You were never ill but once before, -and that was the cold. But now you do not seem to improve. I wonder if -you would like to have a change? It is dull, now that Andre is away, and -I am so busy. Madame Renaud and Madame Gardepier are coming over -to-morrow. And if you would like to spend a few days with them----" - -"Oh, no! I am content here," in a quick tone. - -"Then some day we could go up the river and take our dinner. Some of the -young people might like to join. Sophie Pion is so gay and -good-humored." - -"I like the quiet," she returned languidly. - -"But it is not good for you, unless you were really ill." - -"I shall be better soon. I walked out in the garden to-day." - -"That is right. I can't think what could have brought this about. Come, -you must cheer up and be like your olden self. It makes my heart ache to -have you so dreary." - -"Oh, does it really ache for me? Then I must try. Yes, I will try," in a -more cheerful tone. - -"That is my own little girl," and he kissed her fondly. Yes, he would -always love her in a way. - -The guests came up the next day. Madame Renaud was always bright and -cheery. Madame Gardepier brought her little girl, who ran about and -prattled and was like a bit of sunshine, sitting a moment in Mere -Lunde's lap, then off again chasing the two half-grown kittens. - -Barbe was very charming and gracious and had a good deal to tell about -New Orleans, and thought M'sieu Valbonais would enjoy it very much, -though no doubt he would long for the old friends and associations. And -was he not coming back in a year? - -Renee admitted without any change of color that he was. There was no -half secret in her face. - -"And now you must see Ma'm'selle Renee's room," exclaimed Madame Renaud. -"It is just full of prettiness and ingenuity." - -Renee led the way, and if admiration could have lightened her heart, -surely all the heaviness would have vanished. They were very cordial, -and quite insisted upon having a whole day's visit from her. Uncle -Gaspard promised that she should surely come. - -As they were walking down the street Barbe said: "She does look poorly. -I suppose she has been fretting after M. Valbonais." - -"I really wonder that Gaspard let him go. There was no reason why they -should not marry." - -"And she has some fortune of her own. Why, yes, she could have gone with -him. I hope he will not forget her. There are so many attractive women -there." - -Wawataysee studied her earnestly a few days afterward, when she had been -sitting in silence. - -"What has changed you so, Renee?" she asked with much solicitude. "There -is a surmise in the air that you are grieving after Andre. What happened -between you? For I know he loved you sincerely." - -"I grieving?" Then Renee's face went scarlet and she could hardly -refrain from tears. "It is not Andre. I seldom think of him. Oh, how -cruel and unjust! And it is not true." - -"But something troubles you," in a tender tone. - -Renee was silent. - -"And you never have been so unhappy before. Why do you not tell your -uncle?" - -"No, I cannot," and Renee shivered. - -"Then, dear, why not go to the good father? I should if I had any -sorrows. But what can I have to pain me, with such a good husband and my -lovely children, who are like angels? And Father Lemoine said last -month, 'Madame, your confession is a thanksgiving instead.' He is so -kindly, that Father Lemoine. But you must find some relief, or you will -waste quite away." - -"I shall get well at once. I will not have people quoting me as a -love-sick girl," a little resentfully. - -Still Wawataysee looked doubtfully at her. She tried to be more cheerful -that evening, and Uncle Gaspard smiled and called her his little girl. -Would he always love her? She dared not ask him now. When she had -sorrowed for him in his long absence it had been a comfort to go up to -the little church and pray. But would it not be monstrous to ask God to -keep Uncle Denys from loving Barbe? She was lovely and kind, and merry -too, for that matter, and if Uncle Denys---- - -Ah, there was the sting! - -There crept into her heart a curious dull ache, a sense of something she -did not like, that she shrank from, just as one shuts one's eyes to some -unpleasant sight. And this time it was not Barbe. Some one nearer, -one that she was answerable for, and she did not like the half -consciousness. She had believed the sorrow all hers. What if it was -wrong to cherish it and make it another's sorrow? - -She went up to the church one afternoon. There was no one about. The -confessional stood open. She thought she would pray, and then she -recalled a sentence, "Clean hands and a pure heart." Was her heart pure, -not desiring what might belong to another? And if she snatched at it -with over-eager hands and a selfish heart? - -She went out quietly and sat on the grass. The soft wind just stirred -the trees and brought wafts of perfume and the distant sound of the -voices of children at play. The sun was casting long shadows and -burnishing the tree-tops out on the fields. A few insects were lazily -droning. - -A figure came out in the rusty black cassock with the cord around the -waist, and the little round cap, where a few straggling locks, much -threaded with white, fell below in a half-curling fashion. He glanced -her way, then came over to her and she rose with a reverent obeisance. - -"It is Ma'm'selle de Longueville. You were little Renee. I remember when -you used to come and pray for your uncle that he might be returned in -safety. Is there nothing left to pray for?" - -The tone was wonderfully sweet, and the eyes gave her such a kindly, -tender glance that her heart melted within her. - -"I went in the church," she began in a low tone. "I was troubled about -something. I could not find the right prayer. There may be a need before -the prayer," and her voice trembled like a quivering note of music. - -"Then let us go in and find it, daughter," and he took her hand in his -and gently led her back. She knelt in silence. The kindly hands were -folded on her head in blessing. - -What was it she wanted to say? "If one so coveted a love that it brought -unhappiness if it was shared with any one else; if one had been first -for years, and found another in the place, and then--" The sorrowful -voice broke. It was flooded with tears and soft sobs. - -"Is it a lover that has cast longing eyes on another?" - -"Oh, no, no!" And then the poor little story came out in an incoherent -fashion. It was selfish, it was covetous, it was unjust. She saw that, -now that she put it in words, and it sent a pang of shame and anguish -through her whole being. Was this the return for all the affection he -had given? - -"Child," said the low, sweet voice, "I think he will not love thee less -because another comes into his heart. It is a good, generous heart. I -know it well. And thou must cast out the selfish fear and give love for -love. God shares His with all His creatures, and asks first a devoted -heart, then the wide love for one's neighbor. No grudging heart ever yet -had peace. And the more happiness one scattereth the more returneth to -thee. The more Christlike thy heart becomes, the greater will be thy -desire to do for others, and in this will come the recompense. Trust thy -God and then thy trust will grow in all His creatures. Narrow thy life, -and when the one light fails all will be darkness. Thou hast gone but a -little way forward and there are many lessons to learn before thou wilt -reach the end, but the divinest of all is unselfish love." - -Could she be brave enough to put aside her own intense, selfish love? If -another love made Uncle Gaspard happier---- - -They went out on the step of the old church porch, and he said: "You -will come again, daughter?" And she replied: "I will come every day and -pray for a new heart." - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII - -A FINE ADJUSTMENT - - -Gaspard Denys was out by the gate waiting, quite at a loss to know what -could keep his little girl, and wondering what had made her so quiet and -indifferent of late. Had she really cared more for Andre than she knew? -She must miss him, of course, for although he had touches of sentiment -now and then, he was bright and very much given to the amusing rather -than the serious side of every-day occurrences. But he was earnest -enough where that quality was needed. And he had been Renee's devoted -slave. - -Her hands were clasped, her shoulders drooped a little and her step was -slow. Gaspard went to meet her, touched by the piteousness of her -aspect. - -"My little darling----" - -She had not been exactly weeping, but her eyes had filled and -overflowed. He would not have seen it in the gathering darkness, but he -kissed amid the tears on her cheek. - -"Renee, where have you been?" in a gentle tone. "You were not at the -Marchands'." - -"I was up at the church with Father Lemoine." - -Had she some confidence to give the priest that she withheld from him? -And he thought he knew all her simple heart. - -"Renee, what is the matter? You are not happy. You are not really ill, -either. Something troubles you." - -The girl was silent, but he heard her fluttering breath. He took her -hand in his. It was cold and spiritless. It did not curl about his -fingers in her usual caressing fashion. - -"Has some one grown nearer and dearer than I? You need not be afraid----" - -"Oh, no, it is not that! No one is so dear. And if I lost you--" Oh, she -did not mean to say it, and stopped in her slow pacing. - -"You are not likely to lose me. Who has been filling your head with -nonsense?" - -His tone was a little sharp. - -"No one is to blame. It was all my fault. I have been selfish and -grudging and"--it burst out vehemently--"jealous!" - -He smiled, and was glad the purple gray of the waning light would not -betray it to her wounding. It was the old story, Barbe Guion again. - -"My dear little girl--" he began with infinite tenderness, clasping his -strong arm around her. - -"I want to tell you," she interrupted hurriedly, "it is right, and just -now I have the courage. I don't mean ever to be so selfish again. It is -wicked and ungrateful, and if anything can make you happier, I shall--try -to rejoice in it." - -And he knew she swallowed over a great lump in her throat. He was deeply -touched as well. - -"It is very wicked and selfish, but I couldn't bear to think of your -loving any one else, and when Madame Gardepier came back so pretty and -attractive, and--and you liked her so, it made me very miserable. I did -not want her to come here to be mistress, to have your love, to be first -everywhere, but I know now how odious and hateful it was, and I am -sorry, when you have always been so good to me. And, Uncle Gaspard, if -you want to marry Barbe and bring her here and be happy with her, I will -be content and not envy her for your sake----" - -She was sobbing softly then. He had his arm around her and led her -through the open gate to the little arbor of wild grape vines and -honeysuckle that was always in bloom, a nest of fragrance now that the -dew had begun to fall. He drew her very close to him and let her sob out -her sorrow and penitence. How simply heroic she was to give up a part of -the best thing in her life, for he knew, as he had believed before, that -Valbonais's love had not found the path to her heart. - -"I was so miserable," she went on tremulously, "and I thought I would go -to the church and pray as I used, when I asked God to send you back. -Then I met the good father. And now I am going to begin. I shall not be -unhappy any more, at least I shall strive against it. And I want -you--yes," catching her breath, "I want you to have whatever pleases you -best." - -For a moment or two so deep was his emotion he could not steady his own -voice. And as he held her there, felt the beating of her heart, the -agitation of her slim figure, the sobs she was trying to control, a -passion of tenderness swept over him and almost a desire to claim her as -his and let her rest henceforth in the proud security of entire love. -Yes, she would marry him if he said the word. But much as she loved him -it would never be that highest of all wifely love. She was still a -child, and he was more than double her age. He stood in the place of a -father, and there would be a question if the legal relationship would -not be a bar in the sight of the Church. - -And--Barbe? He was much interested in her and had a secret sympathy with -her. Her eyes had confessed to him that her marriage had not been -satisfactory. If he stood quite alone, perhaps that might be the ending -presently, but it was no plan of his now, no desire, even. - -Ah, Renee, you did not know what an unconscious rival you were! Barbe -understood the situation much better, but she had a woman's wisdom. - -It had all passed through his mind like a flash. - -"My little dear," he said, toying with the soft hair, "set your heart at -rest. I had not thought of marrying Barbe. And I could never give you -up." - -"But--if you were going to be happier----" - -"I am quite an old fellow now. I like my own way. A smoke in the chimney -corner is my delight, and a little girl who sits there weaving pictures -and adventures in the blaze. I am happy enough." - -Her heart gave a great bound. How could she help delighting in the -confession! But that was selfish again. She would hold this exquisite -pleasure on sufferance. - -"Yes, I am happy enough at present. But I should like my little girl to -marry some one who could be a son to me in my old age, who would not -want to take her away, and we would keep step together when we turned -the summit of the hill and were going down the decline. Only I shall -have to sit on the top a good while waiting for you, there are so many -years between." - -There was almost a merry sound in his voice. - -"And now is the unhappiness all gone?" pressing her fondly to his side. - -"There is the shame and regret for naughtiness. Have I troubled you a -good deal?" in a repentant tone. - -"It would have been worse if you were really ill." - -"I almost made myself so. I did not think that it might cause you -anxiety. You see, I was only considering myself and heaping up sorrow -where there was no real sorrow." - -"But you will not do it any more?" - -"No, not any more," she answered, with exquisite tenderness. - -"And now shall we go in? What do you suppose Mere Lunde will say? And -see, it is quite dark. There are two stars." - -All above them was the vault of deepest blue, resting on the tree-tops -or the vague, far distance where all was indistinguishable. The river -lapped along, some night birds gave a shrill cry, and far off a -whippoorwill was repeating his mournful lay. - -"Come." He lifted her up in his strong arms and swung her around. The -door stood wide open, framing in a vivid picture of the hearth fire, the -big empty chair, Mere Lunde bending over some cookery. Every year her -shoulders grew more round and her head was almost hidden between them. - -Renee seemed to herself like one in a dream. She would not exult in this -new possessorship. She would keep meek and lowly, remembering her -indulgence in sinful feelings, her doubt and distrust. - -"What has kept you so?" cried Mere Lunde. "The fish has dried to a -crisp. And one never knows. It may be Indians or wild animals----" - -"Nothing worse than sitting in the arbor, talking." - -"And the child not at all well! When she comes down with a fever--and she -looks like a ghost now." - -That was true enough. The cool air had added to her paleness and her -eyes had a softness in their brown depths, a mysterious expression, as -if she had not shaken off the atmosphere of some far world. - -"Go to the fire and warm up, even if it is a summer night. You should -have known better than to keep her sitting in the chill dew," to M. -Denys. - -Then the good mere made her drink a cup of hot broth. - -But she had not much appetite. Now and then she stole a shy glance at -Uncle Gaspard, and if she met his eyes a faint color suffused her face. -The happy, childlike trust was coming back. And though they sat together -awhile afterward, the faint glow of the dying fire lighting the room, -neither fell in a humor for talking. She kept half wondering if it was -true that he did not care to marry Barbe, half disbelieving it; and yet -it did not give her the pang she had suffered from the cruel jealousy -that had rent her soul. The tranquillity was very sweet, very -comforting. - -She was singing the next morning as she went about her duties a gay -little French chanson Andre had taught her, and her voice was like a -bird's. - -"You are happy this morning, ma'm'selle," said Mere Lunde, with fondness -in her old eyes. "Has there been news from the boats?" - -"From the boats?" What had that to do with it? Then she colored -scarlet--that meant Andre. - -"No," she replied gravely. "Uncle Gaspard would have mentioned it if -there was." - -Still the embarrassing tint ran over her face. All this time had one and -another been fancying that she was grieving for Andre Valbonais? Ah, -they would see! She would be as gay as before. She would go out with the -girls berrying, and gathering strange flowers that queer old Doctor -Montcrevier was glad to press and put in a great book that he had. They -were very little troubled by Indians now, yet they always went in -considerable parties, and Friga was her guard. - -Monsieur Denys took quite a party up the river in the boat he had been -building, and they spent the night at St. Charles. Just beyond was -another bend in the river, and the air was so clear they could discern -the windings a long distance up. Everywhere there were still some signs -of the great flood. But it had not been able to destroy the frowning -bluffs, though it had left caves in different places, swept some islands -out of existence or added them to others. The world was a beautiful -place when the elements were at rest, and it was a blessed thing to -live. - -Renee was growing a little graver, a little more womanly and thoughtful, -but Denys wondered at the added sweetness. She was quite a devout -churchgoer now, and occasionally went up for a chat with the good -father, that was not confession exactly, but helped her insight in some -of the greater truths, made her more ready to share happiness with -others. - -It had been quite a trial at first to go cordially to the Renauds', -though she did admire Barbe's little girl. Madame Gardepier was a person -of some note now, and received invitations to the Government House, and -was on delightful terms with Madame Chouteau and several of the more -important residents. Sometimes Uncle Gaspard and Renee walked down of an -evening, and the young girl always trembled a little, Barbe was so very -charming. - -Denys understood that he could win her if he cared. Was he really -growing so old that he had not the necessary ardor? Had that one -youthful love and sorrow sufficed him? He was touched by Renee's sweet -demeanor now, though he could not see the quaking heart behind it. - -Monsieur Pierre Chouteau came home to his family late in the fall, and a -new Lieutenant-Governor accompanied him. There was strange and stirring -news from France, from Spain, even from the colonies at the eastward -which, having shaken off their old rulers, were still harrassed by -Indian wars and the unwillingness of England to give up the places -specified in the treaties. - -They did not mind these disputes in the old town. Life ran on smoothly. -They were like one big family; had their joys and few sorrows and took -little heed for to-morrow. There was the winter pleasure and new -marriages; there were young men who cast longing eyes at Renee de -Longueville, who would have no real lovers. And now she was seventeen. - -They were very happy together, Renee and her uncle. - -"She will marry some time," thought the woman who longed for the place -by his fireside when it should be vacant. Renee's demeanor puzzled her. -She was no longer a third person. She often left them quite alone, and -when occasion offered invited Barbe and her little girl to tea. Gaspard -Denys was very friendly. He had the gift of being friendly with women. - -The boats began to come up. There was some word about Andre. Pierre -Chouteau came over and told Denys. - -"I hope you will not be too much disappointed," he said, "but there is -some important business on hand and he really cannot be spared. We made -it an object for him to remain. Indeed, we should like him to take one -of the head positions there. He is a fine, trusty fellow. He asked me to -come and explain to you, lest you should think he had grown indifferent -about old friends. But you need not fear that." - -"We had counted on seeing him, but duty is duty, and one ought not to -run away from it for pleasure," replied Denys, approvingly. - -Renee was not going to give any one an opportunity to consider her a -lovelorn maiden this time. She was gay and bright, joining the pleasure -parties and dancing, ready for canoeing or rowing about on the old -mill-pond in the races. She never summoned the young men to her side and -bade them fetch and carry, as she used to Andre; she sent her admirers -to this girl and that one, but somehow they always found their way back -and gathered as bees about the sweetest flower. They would spend whole -evenings with Denys for the sake of watching her as she sat so demurely -beside the fire, now and then raising her soft brown eyes that the flame -seemed to burnish with gold, or smiling vaguely at some conceit of her -own instead of what the visitor said. - -When they were alone on rare occasions she would bring Uncle Gaspard his -flute and often sing dainty little songs in the sweetest voice -imaginable. Then he would listen and dream of her mother, and it seemed -as if she came and sat beside them. He could see her shadowy form, he -believed he could touch her with his hand. There was no sin in loving -her now, since she was free from the Count de Longueville. - -Then came winter again. Should they go to the king's ball? - -"I'm too old," said Uncle Gaspard. "I found a white hair in my beard -this morning." - -"Oh, think of the fathers and grandfathers! And they dance, too. Old, -indeed!" - -She shook her slim finger at him. - -"I've grown lazy. M. Marchand is such an excellent partner that I have -very little to do." - -"Oh, and you were out skating a few days ago and distanced many of the -younger men! I shall not go unless you do," resolutely. - -"And you have never been a queen in your own right," he remarked with a -gleam of amusement. "You ought to try your luck." - -"Before _I_ get old and have to wear a coif," shaking her head in mock -despair. "Oh, let us both go!" - -She had to coax a good deal and insist stoutly that she would not stir a -step without him. And, of course, he had to yield. - -She listened to the songs and the solicitations, and sent Mere Lunde out -with a generous contribution. - -This time she did not care so much about her gown. It was pretty enough. -She had a beautiful necklace that Mattawissa had given her, made of blue -and white shells that came from the southerly Atlantic coast and were -held in high esteem among the Indians and considered of great value in -the way of trade, as they were used in wampums. They were ground in a -peculiar fashion, with a small hole drilled in them and strung on a -chain. In dancing, as they touched each other the jingle had a peculiar -musical sound. - -Madame Gardepier and one of her nieces cut the cake when the midnight -bell sounded. - -"You _must_ have a piece, Renee," said Madame Elise Borrie, who was -plump and smiling and the mother of three children. "But," in a -mischievous whisper, "they will fight to be chosen king. We shall learn -who is your favorite." - -"I've never had any luck," returned Renee in a tone of mock -disappointment. - -"And _I_'ve never cut the cake before! Oh, you must take a piece from -me! There will be luck in it." - -Renee took the piece laughingly, spread out her handkerchief, and broke -it in two or three fragments. Out fell the ring. - -"Oh! oh! oh!" and there was a crowd about her. She slipped it on her -finger and was handed her nose-gay. - -Whom would she choose? There were eager eyes and indrawn breaths, smiles -that asked in wordless language, young men crowding nearer. - -She went over to Denys. "You always were my king," she said in a low, -sweet tone that touched him immeasurably. "I am glad to give you the -royal signet, a rose." - -Gaspard Denys bowed like a young courtier. - -"You know I must have done it besides my own desire," she whispered. -"There would have been quarrels and heart burnings." - -"Yes," nodding that he understood. - -"Ma'm'selle Renee, that is hardly fair," declared an aggrieved one. -"There are so many young men----" - -"And other queens, and a room full of pretty girls. I will give you one -dance." - -His face lighted up with joy. - -"It will end by a marriage, mark my words," said the mother of three -daughters. - -"No, it cannot," returned Madame Gardepier, with secret exultation. "He -was appointed her uncle and guardian by the Church. It would be -unlawful." - -"True enough. But if she would settle upon some one in earnest the rest -would stand a chance. I don't know what there is about her. And she's -past eighteen. It won't do for her to waste many more years." - -Renee and her uncle danced twice. Then she said, with the persuasive -touch in her voice that he never could resist: - -"Now you must dance with Madame Gardepier and some of the young girls, -while I comfort the disconsolate. And we will go home early." - -But there was such an outcry she could not get away so easily. They were -all as eager as if there had never been balls before and would never be -one again. - -Renee would not attend the next one. Gaspard grumbled at having to go by -himself and meet the storm of reproaches. - -"See, I will tie up my head--you can say you left me that way," and she -passed a folded handkerchief about it, that made her look more -coquettish than ever. "Now--I might rub a bit of garlic over my eyes and -they would look red enough." - -Gaspard laughed in spite of a little ill humor. - -Renee settled herself in his big chair and wrapped her feet in the fur -robe. How the wind blew without, though the moonless sky was brilliant -with stars. The trees writhed and groaned, and she fancied she could -hear the lashing of the river. Occasionally a gust blew down the -chimney, driving long tongues of flame out into the room and scattering -ashes about. But the house of split logs, plastered on the outside and -within, was solid enough. She only laughed when the wind banged up -against it and had to depart with sullen grumbling. - -She loved to sit this way and live over the past. What had changed her -so? Did wilfulness belong naturally to childhood? Or was it the lessons -she had learned in the little old church from the good father? Life was -finer and broader, and duties, real duties, were oftentimes a -delight--not always, she admitted, with a little twinge of conscience--and -there were sacrifices of inclination to be made. - -What a curious, varied life hers had been! And now it flowed on -tranquilly. Would it always be this way? Uncle Gaspard wanted her to -marry, but who was there to suit them both? The pretty mystery, not -quite a smile, but that always made her face enchanting, passed over it -now. This one and that one had been mentioned, and she had scouted them -with a dainty insistence that always amused him, though he would argue -about their best points as if he was in sober earnest. - -"Sometimes I think you really want to get rid of me, Uncle Gaspard," she -would retort, with an air of being provoked. "And what if I should never -like anybody? I wonder if, after all, when I am old, say thirty, -perhaps, I would have to go to Quebec and enter a convent, like Marie -Guion?" - -"Thirty! Well, you are a good way from that! And I am a good way past -it, and you won't hear to my being old." - -Then she would laugh and put loving arms about his neck, and he would -think he did not mind the waiting. If it was God's will, the thing he -wanted would come about; but if it was not, one could not go against the -great All-Father, whose right it was to give or to deny. - -But he remarked that she had grown to like talking over the times when -Andre Valbonais had come to her rescue and that of Wawataysee. - -"And I would get hungry and tired and cold, and feel afraid of wild -animals in the forest. I was so little, you know, and not wise and -patient like Wawataysee. And I used to cry for you. Andre was very good -not to get cross and scold, now was he not?" - -"Oh, my little one, I never forget that I owe him a great deal. And I am -glad he is prospering so well." - -"But suppose he should want to stay in New Orleans? It is so much gayer -and finer than this little St. Louis. Our Place d'Arms is nothing -compared to that handsome plaza, Barbe says. And the women dress so -much, and there is the beautiful church, and the school for girls, and a -theatre, and music everywhere on the balconies. Perhaps he will never -come back." - -Did she sigh a little over her own prediction? - -"We can go there some day----" - -"If you think I am going to run after him," with a charming show of -indignation that made her cheeks bloom like the rose, "you are far out -of the way. That would be on every one's tongue. Renee de Longueville -has gone to New Orleans after M'sieu Valbonais, because she cannot get a -lover here. Why, he might stay there a hundred years before I would go!" - -"There seems to be no lack of lovers here. Whether they come for me, or -the good fire, or----" - -"They like you, and they like to smoke and ask your advice. And don't -you notice that sometimes I go to bed, slip away softly, and they never -miss me?" - -At that Uncle Gaspard would nod, with an expression of incredulity in -his eyes. - -And on nights like these, when she happened to be alone, or in that long -space of winter twilight when she curled herself up in the fur rugs like -a kitten, she used to wander off in reveries about that almost -dream-like episode, with its terrors, that made her shudder even now, -because she realized their dangers so much more keenly. Oh, what if -Andre had not found them? How could they have taken all that long -journey with no care, no kindly treatment? And that tall, fierce Black -Feather! He might have minded about Wawataysee, who was of some value to -him, but she, a little child! And if Andre had said, "Oh, we cannot be -bothered with her, we shall have to go so much slower," and they had -stolen away! Some tears always came in her eyes at this point. And there -was that last night, when he had carried her and she had slept in his -arms. Yes, she ought to be very grateful. And sometimes she had been -wilful and treated him very badly. Of course, he had half-forgotten -about her. Was the girl beautiful that he cared the most for? Did she -dance with the grace of a fairy, and was her voice sweet and seductive, -just as Barbe Gardepier's was at times, a sound that both fascinated and -vexed her, the liquid tone that made a man bend his head lest he should -lose a note of its sweetness? And her parents would be very gracious to -him; she knew how charming mothers could be. - -After they had been married a long, long while she would go with Uncle -Gaspard to visit them. She and Uncle Gaspard would grow old together, -and she would have a stoop in the shoulders like Mere Lunde. - - - - -CHAPTER XIX - -THIS WAY AND THAT - - -All the world was abloom and fragrant with later spring. The children -were ranging out on the great mound, learning lessons of the sky, with -all its variations; of the woods, with their many kinds of trees; of the -flowers that were budding and blossoming; of the river winding about, -guessing at other rivers and other countries and great lakes and frozen -regions up at the far north where the white bear lived and the beautiful -white and silver fox, whose fur was rare and held in high esteem. They -peopled it with strange, fierce Indians, and sometimes the boys divided -in two parties and fought. The girls made circles for wigwams, collected -dried grass and sticks and built fires in the centre; and if there were -but few books and no real schools, they were skilful in many things. -They could shoot smaller game, they could manage a canoe, they could -fish, and they acquired much useful knowledge by the time they were men -and women. - -Even to-day youth is attracted by the wild, free life, and the spirit of -adventure still runs in the blood. - -The line of boats were coming up north again. There had been much -floating ice in the river this spring, which had delayed travelling. -Flags were flying, so all was well. Down on the levee bells were ringing -and horns blew out a welcome. Everything had a natural look again, only -the new places were built higher up, and even some of these had been -damaged by the crushing of ice cakes. - -The men collected who had this sort of interest at heart. Many others -and the slaves were out on the King's Highway and beyond, tilling and -planting fields. Women sauntered down the Rue Royale and chatted. The -old market was full of eagerness and activity, and the air had a -fragrance of cooked viands to tempt the palates of the sailors. Women in -coifs and little shoulder shawls that gave them a picturesque look, men -in close caps or a kerchief tied over their heads, their blue blouses -with red belts and wide collars exposing brawny or sinewy throats, -tanned already by sun and wind. - -The leader, the most pretentious boat generally, carried some -passengers; the others had loads of bales and bundles covered with -coarse canvas or deers' hide. They looked not unlike a funeral -procession, the sails a dull gray, but the shouts and songs dispelled so -sombre a thought. Some of the men remembered when the sad news of Pierre -Laclede had reached them, when all had been silence. - -The first boat unloaded the few passengers, valuable papers, and the -slaves began with the cargo. One tall, fine-aspected young fellow sprang -ashore and was warmly welcomed by the Chouteaus and several of the more -prominent men, and then Gaspard Denys seized his hand, but neither of -them spoke except with the eyes. - -And now all was a brisk, seeming confusion. Rude barrows and a kind of -hand-carts were loaded and run to the storehouses. Slaves, Indians and -the lower class of French, many of them hunters as well, worked with a -hearty will. Then there were groups of Indian traders who had been -watching for days for the arrival of the boats, and were eager with -their packs for trade. Others had already disposed of their pelts and -taken notes with the signature of the Chouteaus, quite as good as gold -or silver, and making trade easier, giving them more time to devote to -their own selection. Squaws eager for blankets, calicoes, coarse, -crash-like stuffs, beads and gewgaws, chaffering in their guttural -tones, and shrill French voices raised to the point of anger, it would -seem, from the eagerness, but good-humored for all that. - -Several men went into the counting house where the old sign still -obtained, "Maxent Laclede & Company," just as it still remained in New -Orleans. It would look queer enough to-day, the small one-story log -house with its rough inside wall built up to the ceiling with shelves, -its great iron-bound boxes that served for seats as well as receptacles. - -Andre Valbonais had a big buckskin bag full of papers and invoices, and -he had much to say to his employers. Pierre Chouteau went in and out; he -could hear the particulars afterward, and he was needed every few -moments to tell where this and that should go. - -There was a great commotion, to be sure. Millions of dollars in -transactions could pass now without a tithe of excitement. But, then, -when a town has been shut in all winter it is natural the outburst -should stir like wine in the blood. The shops farther up in the town -were deserted. - -As for Renee de Longueville, she kept very tranquil. - -"I suppose M'sieu Andre came up on this voyage?" Mere Lunde said as she -was preparing dinner. - -Renee had been working among her flowers; then she had kept in her room, -busying herself with sewing. - -"Perhaps so. There will be fleets in all the time now. And Indians and -_voyageurs_ and piles of pelts and evil smells, and such a confusion in -the streets it will hardly be safe to go out unless one is willing to be -jostled and pushed hither and yon." - -"And M'sieu Denys does not come home to dinner. It is all ready." - -"Let us have ours, then," with cordial assent. - -"Perhaps he may bring home M'sieu Valbonais." - -"Well, there may be something left. I am hungry, but I cannot eat all -this bountiful meal," with a gay laugh. - -"It will be spoiled, ma'm'selle," complainingly. - -"The more need that we eat ours while it is just right," she answered, -with smiling emphasis. "Will it make them any happier to have ours less -inviting?" - -So she took her seat at the table with a merry audacity, and praised the -cookery so heartily that Mere Lunde was good humored in a moment or two. -Still there was no step on the path. - -"They will not come," in a tone of disappointment. - -"But, you know, there is enough to get at the market in such times as -these," returned Renee, with a lightsome air. "Trust them for not -starving." - -"Pah! It may do for sailors and _voyageurs_ and Indians, but never for -gentlemen, mademoiselle." - -When Mere Lunde was a little affronted she gave Renee the full length of -the syllables. - -Renee went out and looked at the flowers again, and up and down the -street. "If there was any news," she said to herself, "Uncle Denys would -come and tell me." - -"Mere Lunde, I am going over to Madame Marchand's with my work," she -exclaimed. "I do hope they have brought in no end of beads and spangles. -What do you suppose the Indian women did before the French came here?" - -That was beyond the simple mere's comprehension. - -M. Marchand was returning from his dinner. - -"I just ran down to hear the luck, ma'm'selle; they had a splendid -voyage and no mishap. And Andre Valbonais--you would not know him!" - -She nodded indifferently, but would ask no questions. Wawataysee sat out -under a pretty rose arbor that was heavy with pink buds. There were four -babies now, sturdy Gaspard and Denys tumbling about on the grass, Renee, -with her fair hair and her father's deep blue eyes, much more French -than Indian, and baby Francois. Wawataysee was more lovely than ever, -Renee thought, but she did not understand that it was the largeness and -sweetness of life so intimately connected with others. - -"Did M'sieu Denys come home?" Wawataysee asked. - -"No. I suppose it is all a hurly-burly down there. It is good to have -something to stir up the town now and then," Renee returned brightly. - -"Yes. The trappers were growing very impatient. And I think there will -be a good trade, an excellent thing for you and me," with a grateful -expression in her beautiful eyes. "Renee, I wonder if M. Denys ever -realizes all that he has done for Francois, and good Mere Lunde nursed -him through all his long illness. Men's regard for each other has such a -strong, true quality in it. And, then, M'sieu Andre--oh, Renee, what -would _we_ have done without him? I hope he came up on this voyage." - -"Yes," returned Renee. "M. Marchand just told me so." - -"I am all impatience to see him. Almost two years! Francois declares -sometimes that he is jealous, but that is for amusement. I wonder if he -is much changed? He was very boyish, you know." - -"Was he?" commented Renee absently. - -"You would not remark it so much. You were a child yourself. And how you -used to order him about." - -"It was a habit of mine. Uncle Gaspard spoiled me. And now I have only -to raise my finger and he does my bidding; but he knows there is no one -I love so well." - -Would she always love him the best of any one? - -"And I suppose we shall be glad to have a new store of beads and those -lovely spangles that make the work glitter so, and the soft silk -threads. Merci! What would we do but for the work?" laughing. - -No books or papers to read, no letters to write, no large questions to -discuss, not much of fashion, since garments were handed down through -generations, no journeys about. It was no wonder they were so largely -given to the gayety and pleasures of every-day life. There were loves -and disputes and jealousies, yet they seldom reached the desperate -point, and all, both men and women, looked forward to marriage, which -was made happy by unfailing good humor and a clear sense of duty. It -was, indeed, Arcadian simplicity. - -They chatted and worked, then they took the children and went up on the -mound, where they had a view of the busy hive below, and the -conglomerate of nations, it seemed to their limited sense. Renee was in -a most merry mood. She sang snatches of songs, she played with the -children, she told the older ones Indian legends that were like fairy -stories. Wawataysee studied her in a sort of amazement. - -Renee had half a mind to go home to supper with her. That would look -inhospitable. Gay as she had been, there was a curious unrest in her -heart, a longing to have the first meeting over. Would Andre expect her -to be _very_ glad? Well, she would put on her finest dignity. She was -quite grown up now. - -The table was set for two. - -"M'sieu Denys has sent word--they are to go to the Chouteaus' for supper. -Oh, I forgot! M. Valbonais has come," glancing up to see if it pleasured -her young lady. - -"Yes, yes!" Renee nodded impatiently, and took her seat. "Of course, -there is business. He is clerk of the great house, you know, and brings -news not only of New Orleans, but France, and perhaps of the new -colonies. I think I have heard there is some trade with them. You see, -Mere Lunde, New Orleans is a wonderful place." - -But after all her exercise and apparent good spirits, she scarcely ate -any supper. There was a hurt feeling lying heavily at her heart that she -could not banish, with all her pride. If he had cared, would he not have -found a few moments to announce his safe return? Perhaps he had left a -wife behind. Then, of course, he had no right to think of any other -woman. - -She went out and paced up and down in the garden, trying to think what -she would do to-morrow. She would go down to the mill-pond; there were -always parties out boating. Then Sophie Borrie would be glad to see her. -And the day after, the day after that--how long and lonely the procession -looked! - -There was a bright twinkling star emerging from a drift of white into a -patch of almost blue-black sky. The night was serene, balmy, and there -were but few sounds. It was not yet time for insects to begin their -choruses. Steps sounded of people chatting gayly, but they were not the -voices she knew. Something brushed against her forehead--she reached up -and pulled a rose, sweet with the first greeting of its brief life. And -then---- - -She hurried swiftly to the house. Mere Lunde was scolding Chloe, but -through the rasping sound she heard the steps, the cordial greeting. It -was quite dark within, and she was lighting the pine torch when the two -entered and her uncle said: - -"We have reached home at last. What a day! Renee, here is a guest," and -Uncle Gaspard gave his hearty, cheerful laugh. - -"We were in the dark." She rose in some confusion, the short curls -drooping almost into her eyes, her face quite flushed, and turned, -drawing a long, startled breath. - -"The saints only know how glad I am to get home again!" and the strong -voice was full of rapture. - -"And you don't know yourself?" she interrupted quickly. - -"Ah, you must not take me up like that!" laughing. "I doubt if even the -saints could understand my delight. No one but myself truly knows. Is -that better?" - -The torch began to flame, and its red light threw him out boldly. He -seemed to have grown taller--no, it was not that, for Uncle Gaspard still -towered above him, but he was stouter, and the way he carried himself -had in it a new character and power. And the indescribable something in -his face that no girl could read at a glance, the shaping and tone -experience gives when one has been learning to rule his fellow-men and -to depend upon himself. - -She was silent and a warm color played about her face. He took both -hands, drew her nearer to him, and suddenly she was afraid of the -intense personality. Her rosy lips quivered, her eyes drooped, her -breath came rapidly. - -"Haven't you a word of welcome for Andre?" asked Uncle Gaspard, -surprised. - -"I was confused by the light, and--you are quite sure it is Monsieur -Valbonais?" turning to her uncle. "For he seems to have changed -mysteriously." - -"And you have not changed at all. Nothing has changed. M. Denys, light -your pipe and sit in the corner, and I will take this one. Ma'm'selle -Renee, sit here in the middle." He pushed the chair and placed her -gently in it. "Now we can almost believe that I have not been away at -all, only there is the great gladness of coming back." - -"Has the time passed so quickly, monsieur?" - -There was the faintest suggestion of mischief in her tone. - -"Mademoiselle, you have not outgrown all your naughtiness, I perceive. -You find a second meaning in my simple words. No, there have been days -that seemed like months--last summer, when I hoped to return, when I was -homesick and heartsick. But what are you to do when the kindest employer -in the world begs you to stay and there is no one to take your place, -unless matters go at a great loss?" - -"But New Orleans is gay and bright. And Madame Gardepier says the women -are lovely, and there is music and light-heartedness everywhere." - -"When you are in a close and dark office or out on the muddy, crowded, -vile-smelling levees with men of every nation shouting and hustling and -swearing all about you, and you have almost to fight to get your bidding -done, you have no thought for pretty women. But a man cannot always -choose. And my greatest grief is that I must go back or disappoint my -very good friends." - -"Oh!" with a toss of the head and a curve of the swelling lip that he -longed to kiss. - -"Ma'm'selle, let us not talk about that now. There are pleasanter -subjects--all our old friends--for through the day it has been business, -business, until my head seemed in a whirl with it. M. Denys will tell -you. And we had to go to supper to finish, as if there would not be -another day. But it is so lovely here. And the pretty Madame Marchand is -well, and the Renaud girls, and the Aubrys with their husbands, and -Madame Gardepier with her little one! Ah, I shall have a fine time -presently, when I get a little leisure!" - -What a new sound his voice had! A strength and resolution that swayed -one curiously, a definite manner of stating opinions that somehow -impressed one not only with a sense of security, but a sense of power -that she was minded to rebel against. - -They talked late. Why could she not slyly disappear, as she often did, -and leave him with Uncle Denys, since he would remain all night? - -But she shook off the mysterious chain with an effort and rose and -wished them good-night in a timid sort of way, though she stood up very -straight. - -He caught her hand. "I am tempted to wish there could be no nights for a -long while," he said. "They are not good nights." - -"Think how sleepy we should get. And mine are always good," laughing -lightly. But she did not go across and kiss Uncle Denys. - -There were several busy days, and friends that proffered Andre a warm -welcome. The Valbonais cousins were wedded long ago, but they claimed -him quite as cordially, and the old people were proud enough of him. The -Marchands offered him their home, and were delighted to have him drop -in. Then he was being asked to dine or sup with the Chouteaus, and he -was at the Government House, for his intelligent understanding of other -subjects besides commercial matters made him a desirable guest. - -Renee experienced a curious sensation, as if she was being neglected. -She had lost her old power over him, which was mortifying. He teased her -a little, then he let her trifle with him and say saucy things. But it -was like a bird with a chain; he brought her back, he let her see it was -only playing. Then she grew indignant and flounced away, met him coldly -the next time, or was proud and silent. - -Uncle Gaspard never raised a finger in the matter. - -"I do not like him. I almost hate him!" she cried vehemently one day. -"Of course, I know he saved me in that dreadful peril, but he has been -thanked a hundred times over. And we do not owe him anything." - -"Oh, yes," Uncle Gaspard said tenderly, as he pressed her to his heart. -"I owe him a great deal. For if I had lost you----" - -"And you could never give me to any one else?" - -"Well, whoever wanted one would have to take both." - -Presently the trafficking was about over. The Indians had gone to their -respective lodges, the _voyageurs_ sailed up the river, and now only -occasional boats and canoes came in. Andre was not so busy. He joined -the parties on their rambles when he was certain Renee would be among -them. He did not hesitate to make himself agreeable to other -demoiselles. She could not help drawing contrasts. He had certain ways -of the better class, though social lines were not strongly marked and -few people knew what culture meant. He talked Spanish fluently; he was -quite an adept in English, though he had acquired a little of that -before. But the difference was largely one of manner, the small, -delicate attentions that went to her heart and understanding. Uncle -Gaspard always had some of them, M. Marchand also, and a few of the -others. The rather rough good nature had much honesty, but it was not so -flattering to a girl of Renee's cast. - -There were times when she was quite as jealous as she had ever been of -Uncle Gaspard. Yet it was strange to be so shaken by his coming when she -told herself she did not care for him, to have the touch of his hand -thrill through every nerve, to have the steady glance of his eye conquer -the spirit of rebellion until there was nothing left except the thin -outside crust, that would surely fall at the next assault if she did not -run away. This was cowardly, too, and she despised herself for it, but -she was not the first who had escaped in this fashion. - -He was amused. In the earlier days he had experienced a great terror at -the thought of losing her. It might be the elder man's wisdom had helped -open his eyes. He liked her piquant independence, and he learned, too, -there was a mood of most fascinating dependence as well. But she never -wholly gave up. - -"Is it true you are going back to New Orleans?" Renee asked one day in -her charming, but imperious fashion. - -"Yes, ma'm'selle. And I must start in another month." - -He looked so brave and dignified, his clear eyes shining, his shoulders -thrown back, his head securely poised, as if he could lead an army. -There was not his match in all St. Louis. Oh, yes, Uncle Gaspard and M. -Marchand, and Madame Chouteau's splendid sons, who had risked various -dangers! And M. Marchand had carried off the pretty Wawataysee when he -knew if they should be captured he would be put to cruel tortures and -death. Well, had not Andre escaped with them both when a like fate would -have awaited him in being taken? - -"You care nothing for us now, Andre," in her most plaintive tone, a -hundred times more dangerous than her pride tinctured with sweetness. -And the sorrow that flooded her beautiful brown eyes almost swept him -from his standing-ground. - -"Yes, ma'm'selle, I care a great deal. I love M. Denys as an elder -brother. And you--" hesitatingly. - -She blushed scarlet and her eyes drooped. - -"No, you want the gayety and the excitement and the crowds of pretty -women and the theatres. We are dull and simple here, yet I think we are -good and happy and honest and true. And, then, you are all absorbed in -money-making. Uncle Gaspard said you would be a rich man before you -died. But they do dreadful things in New Orleans, and drink and carouse. -You may be murdered some day, and then what will all the money be -worth?" - -She looked so aggrieved, so bewitching in her regret that, after all, -was half assumed, though she would not confess it to herself even, that -he had much ado to keep tranquil. - -"Ma'm'selle, I go because I see it is quite necessary. A man who hopes -for advancement must study the interest of those who have his welfare at -heart and can favor him in many ways. Then I hold the key to much of the -business at that end of the line, and I do not see who there is to put -in my place. It is true the life here is simple and delightful. There -one has a good deal of sharp dealing to fight against, since he must -meet men of all governments and all sorts of schemes. If M'sieu Chouteau -could go--but he cannot. Do not for a moment think it is the gayety and -the pretty women." - -"Then you _will_ go. There is no use in arguing." - -She turned away. How distractingly pretty she was this morning in the -old garden, herself a part of its bloom! Over the gate she had given him -a rose, and renewed friendship after a dispute. - -"I must go. I have passed my word. Renee--" in a beseeching tone. - -She half turned, like a bird who wonders whether he will fly or not, but -her lowered eyes had a laugh in them. - -"Renee, you know I love you----" - -"No, I do not." He could see the swelling of her bosom that sent a throb -up to her throat. "You do nothing for me now. You are off with the men. -You are--oh, so very charming to the girls!" with a cutting little -emphasis. "And you are always talking to Uncle Gaspard about business----" - -"And last night you ran away to bed without even a good-night!" with -upbraiding in his voice. - -"Oh, _did_ you miss me? I never supposed you would. I was tired sitting -there, thinking my own thoughts." - -"Now we have plenty of time; tell them to me," and his persuasive tone -penetrated her inmost being. What foolish things could she repeat? Her -face was scarlet. - -"You know now I love you. I have told you so in words. I have told it in -many other ways. I confessed it to M. Denys before I went away and he -bade me wait patiently. For two years I have carried you in my heart, -yes, longer than that. You had your fling about other women; no one has -ever moved me. Every night I said, 'One more day has gone, and at the -last I shall go back to the little girl in old St. Louis that I carried -in my arms all one night when she was worn out with fatigue and hunger -and cold. Renee----" - -"I cannot leave Uncle Denys. I have said hundreds of times I never -would," and her voice was sweet with pathos that penetrated his inmost -soul. - -"But you need not. We have planned that. I will be a son to him in all -his declining years. No, you need never be separated." - -"Then you will stay!" exultingly. If she could once conquer she would be -generous and consent afterward. Did not love yield everything? - -"I _must_ go. We three will go." His breath came in a gasp, his eyes -deepened with fervor, he caught both her hands; he could have clasped -her in his arms in a transport of rapture. Only--she stood up so straight -and resolute. - -"So you have planned all this!" she cried in a passion that had a pang -for her as well as him. "And I am not anywhere. It makes no difference -what I want. I am like any bale of merchandise tossed from one to the -other. That is all a woman is worth! But you will find I am not to be -bandied about." - -She had lashed her emotion into tears, and pulled away her hands with an -impatient gesture. - -"Heaven above knows what you are worth to both of us. No one will ever -love you more truly, more devotedly." - -Renee de Longueville fled swiftly away. - - - - -CHAPTER XX - -WHEN A WOMAN WILL - - -"What ails the child?" inquired Mere Lunde. "She has not been like -herself the last fortnight. And now she is in there, crying as if her -heart would break. It is all that Andre Valbonais, I know. Why does he -not marry her and be done with it?" - -"But if she will not?" Gaspard Denys shrugged his shoulders and drew his -brow into a frown. - -"In my time a man knew how to make a woman say yes. And a woman knew -when she was going to get a good husband, which is of the Lord. Gaspard -Denys, you have spoiled her!" - -Yes, he had spoiled her. A man did not know how to bring up a girl. But -she was so sweet in all her wilfulness, so loving in spite of little -tempers and authoritative ways, so dear to him, that if she had wanted -to walk over his body with her dainty feet he could hardly have refused -her. He went into her room and took her in his arms. - -"You are too good to me!" she cried presently. "And I am a miserable, -hateful, quarrelsome, selfish little thing, wanting my own way and then -not happy or satisfied with it. Oh, how will you endure me years and -years, getting queerer as I grow old! For now we will have to live here -together always. I have sent Andre away. Oh, will you care?" - -There was no use arguing. She had cried herself into an unreasonable -passion. She had had her way. How much of it was regret? None of it was -satisfaction. - -"Well, dear, then we must get along," and his tone had a tranquillizing -cheerfulness in it. "There is no one I would like as well for a son----" - -"But you do not want to go to that wretched New Orleans?" in a tone of -incredulity. - -She raised her head from his shoulder. Her swollen eyes and tear-stained -face melted his heart. - -"You know we were going some time. It is well worth seeing. But we do -not need to take Andre." - -"Yet you like him so," with her old waywardness. - -"Yes. And I am sorry you do not." - -She hid her face again. She _did_ like him. She felt it in the hot color -that stained her cheek. - -"He will be gone a year--that is not long," she said in a rather hopeful -tone. - -"Or, he might decide to stay longer. If he has nothing to call him -back----" - -They would be lonely without him. She would be lonely. After all, there -were few young men to compare with him. And some time--if he was _quite_ -sure she did not care for him, he might marry. She never could marry any -one else, but, then--men were different. Oh, here was one who had never -put a woman in his first love's place! And Andre was all alone in the -world. Yes, he would need a wife---- - -"Oh, Uncle Gaspard, I am not worth all this love!" she cried -remorsefully. - -"You will always be worth it to two men," he said in so gentle a tone -that it pierced her heart. "I am much older than you, dear, and some day -I shall be called upon to take the journey from which one never returns. -Then you will be left quite alone." - -What made her think of the little girl in the old chateau to whom the -days were so long and lonesome? Yet, it would be very sad to be left -alone. And--after all---- - -There are so many "after alls" in life. And so many things seem -insurmountable when looked at in a moment of passion. Uncle Denys could -never give her wholly away, had never planned to do that. Fathers and -mothers were happy to have their children married, and here she would -not do this for the best friend she had, nor for the man who loved her -sincerely--that she loved--a little. - -"You ought to shut me up in the loft and keep me on--on pemican, which -you know I hate, and declare you would never let me out until--until----" - -"A woman's love must always be a free gift, Renee, darling. And if you -do not love Andre it would be sinning against him to marry him." - -She knew down deep in her heart that she did love him, that she had -waited these two years because there was no one like him to her. Of -course, she had not really meant that he should throw up his fine -prospects, but be willing to for her sake. And she knew now it was all -very foolish and wicked, and that she deserved to be left alone for -years and years and have them all full of sorrowful regret. - -"I am going to turn over a new leaf, indeed I am," and she slipped out -of Uncle Gaspard's arms. "See what a fright I have made of myself with -red eyes and swollen face, and my hair frousled. Dinner must be nearly -ready. Oh, what a long morning! And I have made you unhappy, when I love -you so much," in accents of tenderest regret. - -He kissed her and went away. - -They were very silent at dinner. Mere Lunde grumbled because they ate so -little. Then Uncle Gaspard went out. The boats were loading up with -lead, as well as other materials, and he was interested in that, and -needed as well. - -No one came during the evening. She heard the violins and singing up the -street, the fiddles and dancing down below. The fire was all out; no one -wanted it after the cooking was done. There were some black charred ends -and piles of ashes. It had a melancholy appearance. And then she fancied -herself as old as Mere Lunde, sitting by the chimney corner, only Mere -Lunde had married the man of her choice--it seemed now to Renee that -every one must have done so--and though her two sons were dead, she had -had them once; and everybody must die some time. But to die without -having been very happy, that made her shudder. And, then, to know that -one had cast it away rather than give up a whim of will. - -So the next day passed and the next. Sunday she and Uncle Gaspard went -to church. There would only be one Sunday more for Andre--ten days. For -her--how many? - -Coming down the path they glanced at each other. What wonderful -languages live in the depths of the eyes! Andre came to her side, and -then she colored and the hand he took trembled, but she did not withdraw -it. They walked on homeward. She never knew whether any one spoke or -not. Uncle Gaspard was lingering behind, giving thanks that he was -likely to get his heart's desire. - -They paused at the garden gate. He opened it for her to pass. There was -midsummer richness and bloom in it, the homely every-day herbs giving -out a sweetness in their plain flowering that was reviving. He followed -her, but she made a little pause at the vine-clad arbor. - -"I am wilful and delight in my own way," she began, and the words -trembled on the fragrant air. "I am like a briar that pricks you when -you would gather the rose----" - -"But the rose is sweet for all that. And--I will take the rose." - -Then he kissed her throbbing red lips, her fluttering eyelids, just as -he had dreamed of doing many a time. And the bliss was sweeter than any -dream. - -There was not much time to waste. Mere Lunde protested at first at being -left alone, but there would be Chloe, and the Marchands to look after -her, and neighbors were kindly. - -Not much fuss was made in those days over wedding trousseaus. Often one -dress went through families, was even borrowed. But Renee had no need of -that. - -So they went to church on Sunday and heard the banns called, and every -one nodded to his next neighbor with the confident air of having known -it all along. The next day Gaspard Denys gave his darling away, and the -priest joined their hands and blessed them. Madame Chouteau gave them -the wedding feast, which was a mid-day dinner in the grand old house, -much the finest residence in St. Louis. It had not the boisterousness of -most weddings, for only the better part of the community were invited. -Madame Chouteau could do that. - -They drank the bride's health and gave her all good wishes. The men -considered Andre very lucky and he thought himself so, but Renee's -fortune scarcely counted, since he would make one for himself. -Everything seemed sweet and solemn to Renee, and she was awed in a -sacred sort of way as this new life unfolded before her. - -They walked in quite a procession afterward. Gaspard Denys had Madame -Gardepier. They talked a little about the bridegroom, then she said: - -"Monsieur Denys, you have done a faithful duty toward the child. You -will miss her much. One can never be quite the same again. Is it true -you are going to New Orleans also?" - -"Yes, madame. I have not been there for years." - -She had hoped it was not so. If he were lonely, he might turn to others -for consolation. And if the child went out of his life---- - -"But will her husband agree to share her love? Husbands are jealous -sometimes," she commented rather gayly. - -"He is like a son to me, and he knows it. You see, I am old enough to be -his father also." - -"Ah, M'sieu Denys, you should have had children of your very own, and a -woman to love in your home. You have such a noble and tender heart you -could have made some one so happy." - -Her heart beat as she said it. Why could he not be roused to the hope -even now? - -"I think you know that I loved the child's mother, and that we were -unfairly separated. If she had lived--but she died. And when I heard the -little one was sent across the sea by her father, who had small regard -for her, it was as if her mother, leaning over the wall of heaven, -called to me, and I did what I knew would set her heart at rest." - -"But she had heaven and all the saints. And in that land of the blest -one cannot long for human loves. It is to those left on earth to whom -they are precious," she returned, with a little longing in her tone. She -had been waiting for Renee's marriage to take her out of his life. Why -should the child have so much? - -"I think they know, those blessed ones. Ah, madame, if you had been -dying, instead of your husband, and leaving the little one, would you -not have pleaded with the very angels that some one might be raised up -to care for her? And if that had been one to whom she would be doubly -dear! So the child in one sense has been like my own." - -And always her rival, Barbe Gardepier felt. Her last hope seemed to drop -as one lets fall a withered flower that has been sweet and is still -freighted with some dear remembrances. - -They paused at her sister's house. - -"You will come in and say good-by to-morrow?" - -"Yes," and he bowed. - -Why should things go so wrong in the world? Renee Freneau defrauded of a -lifelong happiness, of life itself, and she who had seen such a blissful -possibility twice in her short life shut out from what would have been -her brightest happiness. - -He went his way thoughtfully. He had been so long used to a man's -liberty that he did not care to enchain himself with matrimony. And -surely he would give Renee no rival to her children. - -It was a gorgeous day and the fleet of boats glided out with music and -many a "_Bon voyage!_" The little girl had vanished, but Renee -remembered the first night she came, when in the bend of the river they -passed the old ruined heap, and the old French post-house going to -decay. Was it in some other life? She still had Uncle Denys, and she was -glad. What a wonderful thing it was to love a woman's memory all these -years! - -It was a pleasant journey, with only a few storms, one severe enough to -make them run into an inlet to get out of the fierce sweep of the river. -There was Cahokia, whose ruins were still visible. Kaskaskia, despoiled -of much of its valuable front, the town high now above the river. -Strange and curious sights to one who had been no farther than St. -Charles. - -How would St. Louis look when they went back to it? Renee wondered. For -this to her was a marvellous city, more brilliant than any dream ever -made it. It seemed as if the whole world must have been gathered in it -when one heard the confusion of tongues. - -They did not return the next summer, for still the business could not -spare Andre. But Monsieur Chouteau came down, and there were journeys -about to places of such bloom and beauty and mystery that one almost had -to hold one's breath. - -Strange things, too, were happening in the world beyond the great river -that seemed all to them. The colonies were growing more stable, being -welded together by chains of interest and pride and patriotism into a -grand country, but the Mississippi River would always be its boundary. -It could not pass that, men thought. - -Over seas there were tumults and wars, and France in the throes of a -most fearful revolution. They heard a great deal about it here. How -hundreds of the nobility were thrown in prison, the King and Queen -executed and the mob quarrelling with its leaders. - -Renee thought of the two little brothers in Paris that she had seen on -the day of her journey. And the Count. He was among the nobility, and he -was her father. She shuddered over the horrible doings. And here was her -other father, bright and happy and always considering what would be for -her pleasure. - -Sometimes they read an unspoken wish in each other's eyes. - -"It is not quite St. Louis," she would say, with a half smile meant to -be gay, but was pensive instead. - -"No. But we will return presently," the eyes full of cheerful light and -the tone hopeful. - -"And never leave it again?" - -"I am glad you cannot forget it." - -"Oh, there is no place like the home and the friends of childhood--the -larger childhood, when everything is impressed on one's heart. The old -house and the shop and the wide chimneys and Mere Lunde, and the -Marchands with their babies. I know what it is to be an exile." - -Still she and Andre were very happy, taking the leisure of life like two -children, growing into each other's souls, laughing over some of the old -times. And she would say: - -"How could you love me so well when I was horrid and provoking and -tormented you so?" - -"But you had moments of rare sweetness, ma'm'selle; and sometimes the -bee works a long while before he can extract the honey." - -"And you have never once been sorry?" - -"The sorrow would have come if I had not gained you--a lifelong sorrow." - -"And I like your strength, your determination, your resolution, Andre. -Oh, I like you altogether. I would not have one thought or line of you -changed." - -"You yielded so sweetly, ma'm'selle. It is the rose without the thorns. -And such tenderness! Ah, I do not wonder Father Gaspard gave up all -other women for love of you!" kissing the crown of her head, a trick he -had learned from Denys. - -"Not altogether for me," smiling with the distant look in her eyes, as -if she saw a heavenly vision. "For my mother as well. I wish I could -remember her better, but I was so small. And do you know, Andre, I used -to act like a fiend sometimes, I was so afraid he would love Barbe. And -now and then a great wave of sorrow sweeps over me, thinking of all she -has missed." - -"Madame Gardepier is a lovely woman. Still she does not look like those -who have had their heart's longing satisfied. There is something still -needed." - -"And I could not even yet give up Papa Gaspard. I am still selfish. Are -you jealous, Andre?" raising beauful, beseeching eyes to him. - -"He gave you to me long before you gave yourself--the treasure of his -life. I lost my father so young that I cannot tell what such a love -would have been like, but I know it could not be any tenderer. One sees -it in his eyes and the comfort he takes, the immeasurable content. But -he is longing for home. Dear, we will never leave St. Louis again." - -They often made love to each other, she with a freedom that wifehood had -given her which was enchanting. Gaspard Denys took deep satisfaction in -his two children. There was one more dream, but that was for some -after-day fruition. - -There was a much greater spirit of energy in this queer, half-submerged -town, with its muddy streets that sometimes were positive streams. The -ambition of the outside world was stirring them, the interest that -varied commerce brings. There were new boats being builded for the old -firm, and in one of these Renee went up the river again to her old home. - -There had been no great freshet since the one that had wrought such -destruction, but the swift current of spring had torn away some of the -old obstructions. Noble bluffs had settled to sunken ridges, banks had -slipped into the river and formed other high places full of greenery and -wild bloom. Caves of rocks swept out and left high in some other place. -It was wild and curious with a peculiar beauty. Its partly ruined towns -were recovering. There were little hamlets set so near the river's edge -one wondered people had the courage to plant them there. And there was -all the Illinois side, the new country showing already the energy of the -new race combined of many peoples. - -Renee might have left St. Louis yesterday, so little had it changed in -the two years. The levee was in a better condition, some new docks had -been built. And, as usual, there was the throng to see the boats come -in, pouring down from the Rue de la Tour and the Rue de la Place into -the Rue Royale. Yet it was like an everyday sight at New Orleans. Only -the welcomes gave it a rapture she had never known before. Madame -Marchand had her arms about her. Other old friends of girlhood, wives -and mothers now, voices so confused, yet so glad, that it was music to -listen to them. - -It was old St. Louis, but the little girl had gone forever. Madame -Valbonais, prettier than ever and with a style that was foreign to the -small town. Monsieur, grown a little stouter, fine and strong, yet -smiling with a face of gladness. Gaspard Denys, keeping close watch over -the mulatto nurse in gay coif and bright gown, who had in her arms the -little son of madame. - -A triumphal procession escorted her home. How curiously dry the streets -were, and almost prim after the southern irregularity; the riotous -tangle of vines, the balconies full of ladies with fans, chatting and -waving to the passers-by, throwing coquettish smiles. The old French air -that had grown settled in fifty years, the queer houses, and oh, yes, -here was the garden, and Mere Lunde watching at the gate, more bent than -ever, crying tears of joy, and in her broken voice repeating, "Oh, my -little one! Oh, my little one!" - -Yet it was strange, too, after all that luxuriance of growth and bloom -and fragrance, queer, crooked, busy streets, gay wine shops with open -doors and tables of men within playing cards or fiddling or singing -songs. Birds of every color and richest plumage filling the air with -melody, iridescent lizards creeping about winking with their bright -black eyes, alligators sunning themselves in the ooze, snakes gliding -about unmolested, throngs of almost naked children shining in their -blackness, ready to sing and dance, turn a dozen somersaults or walk -upside down for a copper--the vivid panorama still floated before her -eyes and gave her queer, mixed impressions. - -Most of the people seemed to have stood still. Two or three very old -ones had died and several babies, but others had come to replace them. -Not a new house had been built; the stockade was getting dilapidated. -The Government House had been painted afresh, but the old court-house -was dingy enough. The priest's house had been repaired, the little -garden was lovely with roses that were always blooming, and the Chouteau -grounds were like a beautiful park, so well kept and thrifty. - -"Oh," Andre said, "I wonder if you will be sick with longing for all the -gayety and loveliness we have left behind?" - -"Why, then, we can go there again," she answered merrily, with bright, -contented eyes and a winsome smile. "It is so restful here. And Papa -Gaspard is so happy." - -He was hale and hearty and had not turned the half-century yet. Then he -was full of plans. They would move the shop down on the Rue Royale and -build a new room on to the old house. He had brought home some ideas of -improvement and comfort, of larger living. It was not likely St. Louis -would always stand still. - -Madame Marchand was delighted to get her friend back again. There was a -new little girl, but Renee kept her beauty and winsomeness. Wawataysee -was still lithe and slim--it belonged to her tribe--and M. Marchand was as -devoted as ever. Oh, what days of talk it took to make up all the past! - -And Madame Gardepier had married and gone over to the Illinois side to -live on a big plantation. Pierre Menard had a mill for sawing boards and -a brewery for beer, no end of slaves and servants, full fifty years of -age, and two grown sons married. He coveted the little Angelique -Gardepier and sued hard for the mother, who would have a luxurious life. - -"But thou wilt be an American truly," sighed Madame Renaud. - -There was still a great prejudice against the Illinois people. Their -religion, or, rather, lack of religion, was a great stumbling-block. -Then their roaming lives, their apparent disregard of home ties, that -were so strong with the French. - -But monsieur adored her in a very complimentary fashion, and she was -fain to satisfy her heart with it. Sometimes when the red-gold splendors -were fading from the sky, leaving the bluffs and pearl-gray spaces on -the opposite side like long avenues where the light shone through, Barbe -Menard would glance over and wonder what particular merit there was in -Renee de Longueville that the good God should have given so much to her. - - - - -CHAPTER XXI - -FROM ACROSS THE SEA - - -In the second year after Renee's return two signal events happened. A -new little boy was born. She had coveted a girl for Papa Gaspard to love -as he had loved her, but one had to be content with what God sent, and -the boy was bright and strong. - -"No," Papa Gaspard said when they were talking it over one day, "there -will be plenty of time for girls. I am not sorry. But I shall ask a gift -of you and Andre, now that little Gaspard's place is filled. Give him to -me. Let him take my name. It would be a grief to me to have it die out. -Let there be a new Gaspard Denys growing up into a brave boy, a good, -upright man, we hope. You have your fortune and Andre will make another. -There will be enough to keep a dozen children from starving," with a -bright, amused laugh. "I will make a new will and give the boy what I -have left. The lead interest is increasing and will be a fortune by -itself. So if you and Andre consent. It is not as if I wanted to take -him away; it is simply that he shall be Gaspard Denys. In the old time -they put a St. to it, but that was in France. We are going to be a new -people." - -"Oh, Uncle Gaspard!" and she hid her face on his breast, while her arms -went around his neck. "The best out of my life is hardly good enough for -you. I give you my boy with my whole heart." - -Andre Valbonais said the same thing. So the Governor and the priest -settled all the legal points, and this, with the certificate of his -birth and baptism and the will of his godfather, Gaspard Denys, were -locked up in a strong box for any time that they might be needed. - -A bright, sturdy little fellow was Gaspard, extravagantly fond of his -grandfather and his constant companion. He had his mother's soft brown -eyes and her curly hair. - -One afternoon when the sun had lain warm and golden all about, Renee -Valbonais sat sewing on the wide porch that had been pushed out large -enough for a room. Overhead and at the sides it was a cluster of vines -and blossoming things that shook out fragrance with every waft of wind. -The baby was tumbling about and chattering in both French and Spanish, -for he picked up words easily. Sheba, the nurse, and Chloe were just -outside in the garden. Mere Lunde was napping in her easy-chair. It was -a pretty picture of comfort. - -Renee merely glanced up as a young man entered the gate and looked about -him with a touch of uncertainty. Some message from her husband, -doubtless. It was so tranquil they might go out in the canoe. He came up -slowly and then paused, glanced hesitatingly at her, taking off his cap -and bowing. His attire was well worn, but different from the common -habiliments. His figure and air was that of the cities--she had seen such -young men in New Orleans. - -"Is it--Madame Valbonais?" he asked. - -The voice was cultured and with a peculiar richness. The hand that held -the cap was slim and white as a girl's. His complexion was clear, with -the faintest suggestion of olive, but rather pale, though the warmth had -given a tint of color to the cheeks. - -"I am Madame Valbonais," gently inclining her head with a charming -graciousness. - -"And a De Longueville by birth?" - -The accent was such a pure musical French that this time she smiled as -she nodded. - -"You do not know--at least you may not remember, but a long while ago, it -seems, you came to Paris and were being sent to the New World, America. -You were at the Hotel de Longueville, and there were two little boys----" - -"Oh!" she exclaimed, her eyes dilating as a sudden suspicion--knowledge, -indeed--seemed to electrify her. "Oh, you are--" and her voice failed. - -"I am one of the little boys, the eldest, Robert de Longueville. And my -father was your father also. Mine is a sad story, madame, though it -began fair enough. I have come to the New World, where I have not a -friend. All I knew was that you had a grandfather in St. Louis and were -sent thither. You must pardon me, madame----" - -His voice broke a little and his eyes were downcast. - -The good and tender God had sent some one to her in her hour of need. -She, too, had come a stranger to this new land. But she was not old -enough to realize all the desolation. - -Renee rose with gracious courtesy and put out her hand, moved by her own -remembrances as well as his loneliness. He took it and glanced up. She -saw his eyes were brimming with tears. His face and manner appealed to -the tenderest side of her nature, and her affection went out at once. - -"There are no words to thank you for this kindliness, madame. I am such -a stranger to you, although the same blood runs in our veins. And I -speak the truth. Ah, you cannot know----" - -"Come and be seated. You look weary. Chloe," she called, "bring a glass -of wine and some cake." - -Then she pushed a chair up to the small table and put her work in the -pretty Indian basket. His eyes followed the graceful form and took in -the serene, lovely face. Something stirred within him that he had never -known before. He had a French admiration and regard for his mother, but -he could have knelt and kissed the hands of his sister. - -Renee noticed now that his shoes were worn to the ground. He must have -walked far. - -"You came from New Orleans?" she ventured. - -"Yes. The vessel brought me there. Then a boat was coming up to Fort -Chartres. From there I have walked mostly. I am a poor _emigre_, madame. -I will not invade your home under false colors. I spent my last sou to -be rowed across the river. But in these troublous times you must have -heard many sad stories." - -"We are largely out of the way. Yes, there have been sad enough times in -France. And your brother----" - -"He decided to stay in the monastery, though heaven only knows how long -that will stand. All is terror and wildness, and no one's life is safe. -My father was--executed----" - -"Oh, how terrible!" The tears overflowed her eyes. - -The cake and wine came, and, after many thanks, he sipped the wine, but -the cakes he ate like a hungry man. When she would have sent for more a -gesture of his hand retained her. - -"I thank you heartily," he said, with a grave inclination of the head. -"I am such a stranger that I ought to prove my identity. I have -papers----" - -"You may show them to my husband. I believe you. Why, I am your half -sister, but with a whole heart, rest assured. Robert de Longueville. -Yes, I remember you both. You were very shy, and I think I was very much -afraid," smiling as she recalled the old impressions that seemed like a -dream. - -"We used to talk of you. We never had any sister of our own. We were -sent to school, and once a year came back to Paris. Papa was at court. I -was a page for awhile, then I went to a military school. Honore -preferred books and a religious life. He was very sweet and gentle, -while I liked life and stir and adventures. I do not think mamma quite -approved Honore, but she was proud that I was to be a soldier. And then -the dreadful times began with the mob which first deprived the King of -authority, and then cast him into prison with hundreds of others. Oh, it -was indeed a reign of terror!" - -"And your father?" in a low tone. - -"They were both cast into prison," and his voice fell a little. "My -mother died there. It would have been better if my father had died with -her. The Commune hated every vestige of royalty, abolished titles, -confiscated estates. And then poor papa was one of its victims. Our -school was broken up and we were driven into Paris. I don't know what -our fate would have been, impressed in the army of the rabble; but I -would not have fought for the men who had murdered my father. I would -have died first." - -Renee wiped the tears from her eyes. Until now it seemed as if she had -never cared for her father. Surely he had expiated all mistakes and sins -by his death. - -"Then I ran away. I found my way to the monastery and Honore and told -them the sad tale. They were very kind and would have kept me, but there -was no knowing how long they would be allowed their refuge. I resolved -to escape to England, as every week or two refugees were flying thither. -I found my opportunity. And there I heard many things about these new -United Colonies. The English are not over-cordial to them, but the -thought of a people who had fought seven years for liberty and conquered -in the face of such odds fired my heart. I resolved to come to America. -We had never forgotten you, madame, and Honore wrote that if I found you -I was to give you his love. He is a sweet, gentle fellow and will make -an excellent priest, if there is any France left," he added mournfully, -drawing a long, pained breath. - -She was glad they had remembered her and talked of her. She raised her -sweet, sympathetic eyes. - -"Then I came to New Orleans, as I learned from there I could reach St. -Louis. It is queer, but all of you on this side of the river are under -Spanish domination, and it is well for you, perhaps, even if you are -French." - -"I know so little about it," she replied gravely, "only that we are -proud of being French. But the poor King and Queen, and--papa!" - -"Honore and I were thankful mamma died in prison, though we do not know -what she suffered. And that is the whole of the sad story, madame. I am -young and can work for my bread, surely, and it will not be so lonely -since I have found you." - -Her tender heart went out to him. "Monsieur Robert," she said, "I hope -we shall be good friends. I am glad you came to me----" - -"But I do not mean to be a burden on you," he subjoined quickly. "I -still think I should like to be a soldier, yet I have a fair education -and I can make my living at something." - -In the light of the luxury of Paris all through his childhood, so -differently aspected from this, he gathered that his sister was far from -rich; but even if she had been, he had not meant to ask help from her. -There was a good deal of pride in the De Longueville blood. He had not -come as a suppliant for anything but love. She liked him none the worse -for it. Then glancing up, she saw Uncle Gaspard and her child in the -street. - -"Excuse my absence a few moments and go on with your rest, for you look -weary enough. Chloe, bring some more wine and cake." - -Then she glided down the path and met them at the gateway. Her face was -flushed, her eyes deep and full of emotion. - -"Come here in the little arbor," she cried. "A strange thing has -happened to me. I feel as if I had been reading it in a book, but it is -all true. I hardly know where to begin. And, Uncle Gaspard, you must be -kind and merciful, and forgive my father for his neglect. He is dead. He -was one of the victims of that awful revolution because he was faithful -to his King." - -"Renee, child, do not give way to such excitement. The grave covers all. -We do not carry our grudges beyond it. And if he had loved you, you -would never have come to me and I should have lost much, much!" And, -picking up little Gaspard, he kissed him fondly and lifted him to his -shoulder. - -"Yes, I knew you would forgive, you are so generous. And"--she caught his -free hand--"my brother, who has fled from those horrible scenes, who has -lost both parents, has emigrated and is here--found me after some -searching. Life has gone hardly with him." - -"Count de Longueville's son!" The lines of Gaspard Denys's face -hardened, his eyes grew stern. - -"Think of him as my brother only," she pleaded. "We are to be kindly -disposed to our enemies even. And, as you say, if he had been a fond -father to me you would never have had me or little Gaspard. I think -Robert will soon go away again. He has been partly bred for a soldier. -And we ought not visit on him any sin of his father. That is left for -God." - -"True." It was gravely said, but not cordially. "Let us see what the -young man is like. Renee, he never shall be any trouble to you." - -"Oh, you will feel so sorry for him presently." - -They walked to the porch--gallery, as every one called it. The young -fellow had finished his food and wine again. He had eaten nothing since -morning. He looked a little rested, but his eyes had a questioning -glance. - -He was not quite what Gaspard had looked for in a De Longueville. Barely -medium size, though he was not yet twenty, refined and with a quiet -dignity, he rather disarmed the critical eyes, and Gaspard experienced a -touch of sympathy for him. Renee made him tell his pathetic story over -again, which he did modestly enough. And when he would have gone, though -whither he knew not, Denys bade him stay. There were no inns in the -town. - -He won Andre as well before the evening was over. And when they found he -had no plans, only a vague desire to offer his services to the new -government that in other days had aroused such an interest in France, -they bade him remain with them. He had both seen and heard the Marquis -de Lafayette after his return to France, when he had been full of -enthusiasm for the new people. - -"But, Monsieur Robert, you are French," said Andre. "And in the turns of -fate we may some day have a French country here. Anyhow, a man may earn -his bread; and from what I hear, the colonies are not overstocked with -prosperity. Better wait awhile and cast in your lot with us." - -Robert de Longueville was very glad to. He thought of the Reign of -Terror with a shudder, and often wondered about Honore, hearing at last -that he was safe in an outlying district of northern France. - - - - -CHAPTER XXII - -A NEW ST. LOUIS - - -Once again the French flag waved over St. Louis and hearts beat high -with joy. Not that they had been unhappy or discontented under the -Spanish _regime_, though the place had remained stationery. Except for -the fur trade and the energies of the house of Maxent Laclede & Co. with -their _entrepot_, it would still have been a little French hamlet. Even -now it had scarcely two hundred buildings and less than a thousand -inhabitants. Yet perhaps few places could boast of forty years of -content and happiness and such peaceful living. - -So down came the Spanish flag and up went the lilies of France. There -was a night of rejoicing. People scarcely went to bed. Fiddles and -flutes played old French airs, and songs were sung; but, after all, the -people were decorous and there was no orgie. Most of these men had never -known Parisian enthusiasm. Robert de Longueville marvelled at it and the -simplicity. - -It was well, perhaps, to have had those few hours of jubilation for men -to talk about in their old age. For the next day a company came over -from the fort and held a consultation with Lieutenant-Governor -Dellassus. And then the royal lilies came down slowly, sadly, it seemed, -and men's hearts beat with sudden apprehension. What did it mean? They -gathered in little knots and their faces were blanched. - -Captain Stoddard raised the new colors--broad bands of red and white and -thirteen stars on a blue field. The brave colonies had taken another -leap and crossed the Mississippi. Here at the old Spanish quarters, -March, 1804, the last vestige of hope fluttered and died in the French -heart. The breeze caught the flag and flung it out and a few cheers went -up, but they were from the Americans, and the salutes even had a -melancholy sound. - -"St. Louis," said some one. "Will they take away the name, too? Are we -to be orphans?" - -Others wept. Some of the better informed tried to explain, but it was -half-heartedly. No one was certain of what was to come. These -conquerors, yes, they were that, spoke a different tongue, had a -different religion, were aggressive, a resistless power that might sweep -them beyond the mountains. - -There was no rejoicing that night. There were no cabarets in which men -could drink and discuss the change. They went to each other's houses and -sat moodily by firesides. Old St. Louis was lost to them and hearts were -very heavy. - -Spain had ceded the whole of Louisiana to France, and again France had -sold her desirable possession. Napoleon, hating the English and wanting -the money to carry on his war against them, had bargained with the -United States. All the great country lying westward no one knew how far. -And the mighty river was free from troublesome complications. - -Yes, old St. Louis was gone. There was something new in the very air, an -energy where there had been a leisurely aspect; a certain roughness -instead of simplicity, pioneer life. No avalanche swept over them, but -people came from the other side of the river, stalwart boatmen, stalwart -hunters, with new and far-reaching ideas. Schools, poor enough at first, -but teaching something besides the catechism and a little arithmetic. -There were books to read, discoveries to make, mines to unearth, more -profitable ways of labor. The old slow method of work in the salt licks -was improved upon, as well as that of the lead mines. Upper Louisiana -held in its borders some of the great wealth of the world. Spanish -language dropped out, French began to be a good deal mixed, and men -found it to their advantage to learn English. The stockade and the round -towers dropped down, and no one repaired them, because the town was -going to stretch out. New houses were built, but many of them seemed as -queer at a later date, with their second-floor galleries approached by a -stairs from the outside. The high-peaked roofs with their perky windows -looked down on the old one-story houses of split logs and plaster. -Laclede's town, about a mile long, was old enough to have legends -growing about it when men sat out on stoops and smoked their pipes. - -Yet there was enough of the past left to still afford content and -romance. Robert de Longueville proved himself a capable young fellow and -turned his past education to some account. He had a truly French -adoration for his half sister that presently won quite a regard from -Gaspard Denys. - -Robert was fascinated as well with the half Indian wife of M. Marchand, -and never tired of the wild legends of fur hunting and life up at the -strait. Then the ten children were a great source of interest as well. -There were only two girls among them, the boys growing up tall, strong -and fine-looking, proud of their mother, who kept curiously young and -occasionally put on all her Indian finery for their amusement. - -Renee was quite fair and rather petite, and with such shining eyes they -often called her Firefly. Then Robert fell in love with her, and there -was another Renee de Longueville to hand down the name, and very proud -felt Renee Valbonais of the fact. - -The little old church was partly rebuilt in the repairing, and was -turned about. Then many years afterward it became the French Cathedral -on Walnut Street. The high, stiff pews savor of olden time. There are -still several paintings in it, one very fine, sent by Louis, the King of -France. And there are the inscriptions in four languages, two modern and -two ancient. - -When Renee Valbonais knelt in her pew at the consecration her face was -still sweet, her eyes brown, soft and smiling, but the hair curling -about her forehead was snowy white. On this spot she had prayed for -Uncle Gaspard's safe return, then she had prayed to be made willing to -give him up if it was for his happiness. Now she had very little to pray -for, so many blessings had been showered upon her by the good God. So -her heart was all one great thanksgiving, and she felt that at the last -she could "depart in peace." - -When it was set off from Louisiana, when it became a Territory and then -a State, St. Louis remained the capital. Brick and finished frame houses -were built, stores and factories, a newspaper started, a steamboat came -up the river, and that revolutionized the trade. - -Then it was to change curiously again. The Americans had nearly -superseded the French. Some of them went to the towns below, -intermarriages became common as the prejudices died away. Then there was -a great German emigration. The failure of patriotic hopes at home in the -Old World sent many across to the New World. They were of the better -class, educated, energetic and earnest for freedom of thought. Again in -1849 they were largely recruited after another unsuccessful revolution. - -Eighty-three years after the founding of the town they held a grand -celebration. Only one member of Pierre Laclede Liquist's company, who -had planted and named the town, was living. This was the president of -the day, Pierre Chouteau. The fine old madame, who had gloried in her -brave sons, had passed to the other country. Four mounted Indians in -full costume were the bodyguard of the venerable president, and in the -carriages were a few withered-up, brown-faced Frenchmen, who had made -themselves log houses along those early years and lived their simple -lives, raised their families, danced in the merry-makings and now felt -almost like aliens. - -Gaspard Denys, still hale and hearty, was among them, past eighty, but -clear of eye and steady of step. He had seen his godson, young Gaspard, -grow up into a fine, manly fellow, marry a sweet girl and have sons to -carry on the name. What more could a man ask than a well-used life and a -certain share of happiness? But they had gone back on the next rise of -ground, for business had seized with its inexorable grasp on the old -home where Renee had sat and dreamed beside the great chimney and Mere -Lunde had nodded. - -Way out to the side of the old pond they had gone, where there was still -a forest on one side of them. Great hickories, pecans, trees useful for -food and fuel and building houses, long reaches of tangled grapes that -made all the air sweet at their blossoming and again at their ripening, -fields and meadows, the garden near by, the house with great porches, a -wide hall and beautiful stairway, with no need of outside climbing. - -"Here we will end our days," Gaspard Denys said to the child of the -woman he still dreamed about, more vividly, perhaps, now than at middle -life. For there was the wide stone chimney, the great corners in the -fireplace. Sometimes on a winter night they stood a pine torch in the -corner, and it gave the weird, flickering light they used to love. - -Across the hall would be young people dancing. But there was no more -Guinolee, no more anxious, eager crowds to see who would get the beans -in the cake, no strife to be queens, no anxiety to be chosen kings; -that, with other old things, had passed away. - -"I wonder," Renee says, smiling absently, "if they have as good times as -they used to in old St. Louis? There are so many pleasures now." - -No one goes round on New Year's Eve singing songs, saying, "Good-night, -master; good-night, mistress. I wish you great joy and good luck." - -And this was to be all swept away by the imperious demand of the growing -city; but it was true then that Renee and Andre Valbonais and Gaspard -Denys had gone to that country which is never to know any change, for -God is in the midst of it. - -Before the century was half gone the dream of the old explorers had come -true, and many a new explorer gave up his life, as well as De Soto and -La Salle. For out on the western coasts, over mountain fastnesses, -through gorges and beyond the Mississippi thousands of miles lay the -land of gold; lay, too, a new road to India. Out and out on the high -ground has stretched the great city. The old mill and the queer winding -pond went long ago. The Chouteau house, where there were many gatherings -both grave and gay of the older people, is the Merchants' Exchange. Here -and there a place is marked by some memento. But when you see the little -old map with its Rue this and that, one smiles and contrasts its small -levee with the twenty or more miles of water front, kept, too, within -bounds, bridged over magnificently. And if its traders are not as -picturesque as Indians and _voyageurs_ and trappers in their different -attire, they still seem from almost every nation. - -Most of the French have gone. There is no exclusive French circle, as in -New Orleans. Here and there a family is proud to trace back its ancestry -and keep alive the old tongue. But the old houses have disappeared as -well. Sometimes one finds one of the second decade, with its gable -windows jutting out of the peaked roof, and one waits to see a brown, -dried-up, wrinkled face in French coif and gay shoulder shawl peering -out, but it is only a dream. - -And surely the Germans earned their birthright with the loyalty of those -days when the whole country was rent with the throes of civil war. There -was a delightful, friendly, well-bred class of planters from the middle -Southern States, who had lovely homes in and about the town, and who -clung to their traditions, the system of slavery being more to them than -a united country. But the patriotism of these adopted citizens, who had -learned many wise lessons at a high price, was a wall against which the -forces threw themselves to defeat, and again the everlasting truth -conquered. - -The youth of cities is the childhood of maturer purposes, knowledge, -experience. Each brings with it the traditions of race, of surroundings, -to outgrow them later on. Does one really sigh for the past, looking at -the present? At the towns and cities and the wealth-producing -inventions, where the silence of the wilderness reigned a hundred years -ago, or broken only by the wild animals that ranged in their depths, and -here and there an Indian lodge? And the new race, born of many others, -proud, generous, courageous, men of breadth and foresight, who have -bridged streams and hewn down mountains, made the solitary gorges -familiar pictures to thousands, and have had their wise and earnest -opinions moulded into public wisdom and usefulness, mothers who have -added sweetness and wholesome nurture and refined daily living, children -growing up to transform the beautiful city again, perhaps, though as one -walks its splendid streets one wonders if there is any better thing to -come, if the genius of man can devise more worthiness. - -The new white city may answer it to the countless thousands who will -come from all the quarters of the globe. - -But the Little Girl and Old St. Louis had their happy day and are -garnered among the memories of the past. - -THE END. - - - - -THE "LITTLE GIRL" SERIES - - A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD NEW YORK. - HANNAH ANN; A SEQUEL. - A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON. - A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD PHILADELPHIA. - A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD WASHINGTON. - A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD NEW ORLEANS. - A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD DETROIT. - A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD ST. LOUIS. - - - -***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD ST. LOUIS*** - - -******* This file should be named 41526.txt or 41526.zip ******* - - -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: -http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/4/1/5/2/41526 - - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, -set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to -copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to -protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project -Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you -charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. 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