It is so beautiful. Wanamee, did you ever feel that you must
float away to some other world and learn things that seem to hover all
about you, and yet you cannot grasp?"

"You cannot, child, until you are admitted to the company of the saints.
And this life is very comfortable, to some at least. Thou hast no
trouble, little one. But it is time for the bed."

"Why can I not sleep out here? The Indians sleep under the tree. So has
M'sieu Ralph, and the Governor. Oh, I should like to and have just that
great blue sky and the stars over me."

"They would not show under the tree branches. And there are wolves and
strollers that it would not be safe to see at this time of the year,
when there are so many drunken traders. So come in, child."

She rose slowly. A little room in the end of the Giffard house was
devoted to her and Wanamee. Two small pallets raised a little above the
floor, a stand with a crucifix, that the Governor's wife insisted was
necessary, a box, in which winter bedding was stored, and that served
for a seat, completed the simple furniture.

Rose knelt before the stand. There were two or three Latin prayers she
often said aloud, but to-night her lips did not move. This figure on the
cross filled her with a kind of horror just now.

"Mam'selle," said the waiting Wanamee.

The child rose. "You must pray for yourself to-night," she said in a
soft voice, throwing her pliant body on the pallet. "I do not understand
anything about God any more. I do not see why He should send His Son to
die for the thousands of people who do not care for Him. The great
Manitou of the Indians did not do it."

"_Ma fille_, ask the priest. But then is it necessary to ask God when we
have only to believe?"

"I am afraid I don't even believe," was the hesitating reply.

"Surely thou art wicked. There will be penance for thee."

"I will not do penance either. You are cruel if you torture dumb
animals, and it is said they have not the keen feeling of humans. I am
not sure. But where one thinks of the pain or punishment he is bearing
it is more bitter. And what right has another to inflict it upon you?"

Wanamee was silent. She would ask the good priest. But ah, could she
have her darling punished?

CHAPTER X

MILADI AND M. DESTOURNIER

"But what are you to do with this nice house? Why, the Governor's is
hardly better. Will you live here and not at the post? And how pretty
the furnishings are?"

Rose's face was