suggestions, and the similarity of name be true, I think I have a right
to claim this girl as my daughter, supposed dead for years. There were
some trinkets found on her, and there were two initials wrought in her
fair baby limb by my hand. Can I see these articles?"

Then he crossed to the girl and studied her from head to foot, smiled
with a little triumph, and faced the astonished group.

"I have marked her with my eyes as well," he said with a smile. "Jeanne,
do you not feel that the same blood flows through our veins? Does not
some mysterious voice of nature assure you that I am your father, even
before the proofs are brought to light? You must know--"

Ah, did she not know! The voice spoke with no uncertain sound. Jeanne
Angelot went to her father's arms.

The little group were so astounded that no one spoke. The woman still
knelt, nay, shriveled in a little heap.

"She has fainted," and one of the sisters went to her, "Help, let us
carry her into the next room."

They bore her away. Father Gilbert turned fiercely to the Sieur Angelot.

"There might be some question as to rights in the child," he said, in a
clear, cold tone. "When did the Sieur repudiate his early marriage? He
has on his island home a new wife and children."

"Death ends the most sacred of all ties for this world. Coming to meet
me the party were captured by a band of marauding Indians. Few escaped.
Months afterward I had the account from one of the survivors. The
child's preservation must have been a miracle. And that she has been
here years--" he pressed her closer to his heart.

"Monsieur Angelot, I think you will not need us in the untangling of
this strange incident, but we shall be glad to hear its ending. I shall
expect you to dine with me as by previous arrangement. I wish you might
bring your pretty daughter."

The Commandant bowed to the company and turned, attended by his suite.
When their soldierly tread had ceased on the steps, Father Gilbert
confronted the White Chief.

"Your wife," he began in an authoritative tone, fixing his keen eyes on
the Sieur Angelot, "your wife whom you tempted from her vows and
unlawfully married is still alive. I think she can demand her child."

Jeanne clung closer to her father and his inmost soul responded. But
aloud he exclaimed in a horrified tone, "Good God!" Then in a moment,
turning almost fiercely to the priest, "Why did she give away her child
and let it be thought a foundling? For