ck to you. Oh, Pani, you are cold and there is
no fire. And all this dreary time--but the good God has sent me back,
and I shall stay always, always--"

She ran and opened the shutter. The traces of Pani's careful
housekeeping were gone. Dust was everywhere, and even food was standing
about as Wenonah had brought it in last night, while piles of furs and
blankets were lying in a corner, waiting to be put up.

"Now we must have a fire," she began, cheerily; and, shivering with the
chill herself, she stirred the embers and ashes about. There was no lack
of fuel. In a moment the flames began a heartsome sound, and the scarlet
rays went climbing and racing over the twigs. There was a fragrant
warmth, a brightness, but it showed the wan, brown face, almost ashen
color from paleness, and the lack-luster eyes.

"Pani!" Jeanne knelt before her and shook back the curls, smiled when
she would fain have cried over the pitiful wreck, and at that moment she
hated Louis Marsac more bitterly than ever. "Pani, dear, wake up. You
have been asleep and dreamed bad dreams. Wake up, dear, my only love."

Some consciousness stirred vaguely. It was as if she made a great
effort, and the pale lips moved, but no sound came from them. Still the
eyes lost some of their vacancy, the brow showed lines of thought.

"Jeanne," she murmured again. "_Petite_ Jeanne. Did some one take you
away? Or was it a dream?"

"I am here, your own Jeanne. Look at the fire blaze. Now you will be
warm, and remember, and we will both give thanks. Nothing shall ever
part us again."

Pani made an attempt to rise but fell back limply. Some one opened the
door--it was Margot, who uttered a cry of affright and stood as if she
was looking at a ghost, her eyes full of terror.

"I have come back," began Jeanne in a cheerful tone. "Some Indians
carried me away. I have been almost up to the Straits, and a good
captain brought me home. Has she been ill?" motioning to Pani.

"Only grief, Mam'selle. All the time she said you would return until a
week or so ago, then she seemed to give up everything. I was very busy
this morning, there are so many mouths to feed. I was finishing some
work promised, there are good people willing to employ me. And then I
came in to see--"

"Jeanne has come home," Pani exclaimed suddenly. "Margot has been so
good. I am old and of no use any more. I have been only a trouble."

"Yes, yes, I want you. Oh, Pani, if I had come home and found you