O Wenonah!" She fell on the woman's neck and kissed the soft, brown
cheek.

"He knew you trusted me, that was the evil of him. And I said to Pani,
'Do not let her go out on the river, lest the god of the Strait put
forth his hand and pull her down to the depths and take her to his
cave.' And Pani understood."

"Yes, I trust you," said the girl proudly.

"And I have no white blood in my veins."

She went down to the great oak with Pani and they sat shaded from the
afternoon sunshine with the lovely river stretching out before them. She
did not care for the old story any more, but she leaned against Pani's
bosom and patted her hand and said: "No matter what comes, Pani, we
shall never part. And I will grow old with you like a good daughter and
wait on you and care for you, and cook your meals when you are ill."

Pani looked into the love-lit, shining eyes.

"But I shall be so very, very old," she replied with a soft laugh.

CHAPTER XIV.

A HIDDEN FOE.

Ah, what a day it was to Jeanne Angelot! They had gone early in the
morning and taken some food with them in a pretty basket made of birch
bark. How good it was to be alive, to be free! The sunshine had never
been so golden, she thought, nor danced so among the branches nor shook
out such dainty sprites. How they skipped over the turf, now hold of
hands, now singly, now running away and disappearing, others coming in
their places!

"The very woods are alive," she declared in glee.

Alive they were with the song of birds, the chirp of insects, the
murmuring wind. Back of her was a rivulet fretting its way over pebbles
down a hillside, making an irregular music. She kept time to it, then
she changed to the bird song, and the rustle among the pines.

"It is so lovely, Pani. I seem to be drinking in a strange draught that
goes to my very finger tips. Oh, I wonder how anyone can bear to die!"

"When they are old it is like falling asleep. And sometimes they are so
tired it makes them glad."

"I should only be tired of staying in the house. But I suppose one
cannot help death. One can refuse to go into a little cell and shut out
the sunlight and all the beauty that God has made. It is wicked I
think. For one can pray out of doors and sing hymns. I am sure God will
hear."

They ate their lunch with a relish; Jeanne had found some berries and
some ripe wild plums. There was a hollow tree full of honey, she could
tell by the odorous, pungent smell. She wou