de
Champlain."

"You see something makes the difference." Her brow knit in perplexity.
"If it is a thing you want, it would be very easy to reach out your hand
and take it----"

"But I want it!" He reached out his hand and caught hers. "I love you,
strange, bewitching as you are in your innocence. And I would teach you
what love was. No young girl loves much before marriage. But when she is
with her husband day by day and his devotion is laid at her feet, she
cannot help understanding what a delight it is, and she learns to give
of her sweetest and best, as you will, my adorable child."

The heat of his hand and the pulse throbbing in every finger roused a
deeper feeling of resistance. She tried to withdraw it, but the pressure
only tightened.

"Will you release my hand?" she said, with a new-born dignity. "It is
mine, not yours!"

"But I wish it for mine. Oh, Rose, you sweet, delightful creature, you
_must_ learn to love me. I cannot give you up. And the Destourniers are
quite willing. I have asked for you."

"No one can give me away. I belong only to myself."

She drew her hand away in an unguarded moment. She sprang up straight
and lithe, her head poised superbly. Every pulse within him was
mysteriously stirred, and his breath came in gasps. Yes, he must set her
in his life. It would be bleak and barren without. To kiss the rosy lips
when he listed, to pillow the fair head on his shoulder, to encircle the
supple figure, so full of vitality, in his arms--yes, that would be the
highest delight.

"I will wait," he said, in a beseeching voice. "You are but a child.
Pity has not sprung up in your heart yet. I will wait and watch for the
first sign."

"Go!" She made a dismissing gesture with her hand. "Do not attempt to
follow me."

He stood still, looking after her. His whole soul was aflame, his voice
could have cried to the heavens above that she might be enkindled with
the sacred flame that leaped and flashed within him.

Rose picked her way deftly, daintily over the rocky way. She did not
stop at the house, but went on to the beach. A fish-hawk was chasing a
robin, that suddenly veered round as if asking her protection, and
picking up a sharp stone, she took aim at the hawk and stunned him for
an instant, so that he lost his balance.

"Bravo, little Rose," said a hearty voice, and the canoe turned in the
bend. "If your stone had been larger it might have done more execution."

"But I saved the bird."