and
the river with boats and canoes--why, it had never been so brisk and
wonderful before.

She drew in long breaths of health-giving fragrance. There had been some
trouble with the Indians and the Sieur de Champlain had gone to chastise
them. There were fur-traders on the way and soon everything would be
stirring with eager business. And when she could they would take a sail
around and up the St. Charles, and visit the islands, for besides Pani
the Mere had another Indian boy the Sieur had sent her, so there would
be no gardening for the small, white Rose. And he had made a new friend
for her, who was waiting anxiously to see her.

Presently she went soundly asleep in the fragrant air, and he carried
her back and laid her on the bed. Mere Dubray came and looked at her and
shook her head. She was indeed a white Rose now. They had cut her hair
when she had tangled it with her tossing about, and it was now a bed of
golden rings, but the long lashes that were like a fringe on her cheeks
were black.

"It will take her a good while to get back all she has lost," said the
young man. "It is little short of a miracle that she is here."

She gained a little every day. But she felt very shaky when she walked
about, and light in the head. And then Destournier brought her a visitor
one afternoon, a lady the like of whom the child had not dreamed of in
her wildest imaginings, as she had listened to tales of royalty. A tall,
fair woman whose bright hair was a mass of puffs and short dainty curls
held by combs that sparkled with jewels, and the silken gown that was
strewn with brocaded roses on a soft gray ground. It had dainty ruffles
around the bottom that barely reached her ankles, and showed the clocked
and embroidered stockings and elegant slippers laced back and forth with
golden cord, and a buckle that sparkled with gems like the combs. Even
royalty condescended to wear imitation jewels, so why should not the
lower round? Her shapely shoulders were half veiled by a gauze scarf on
which were woven exquisite flowers.

The child gazed with fascinated admiration. Did the Greek women
Destournier had read about, who won every heart, look like this?

"This is the lady I told you of, little one, who has lately come from
France, Madame Giffard. And this is Rose----" He paused suddenly with a
half smile. "I believe the child has no other name."

"Was she born here?" How soft and winning the voice was.

Destournier flushed uncons