asked peremptorily, seizing Noko's arm.

"She is here, Monsieur. She is in bed asleep. There is trouble and the
fair-haired woman hates her. You had better not try to make them agree.
And she has no love for the dark-haired suitor who is on the river,
dreaming of her. She is too young. Let her alone."

"I wanted to know that she was safe. I will see her in the morning. Keep
her until I come."

"Yes, Monsieur."

Madame Destournier had wept herself to sleep, and was breathing in
comparative tranquillity. Ralph sat down beside the bed. If Rose had
loved Eustache Boulle, the way would have been smooth as a summer sea.
Was he sorry, or mysteriously glad? Why should he be glad? he demanded
of himself.

Rose made no demur the next morning when M. Destournier told her of the
new arrangements, only stipulating that she should have her liberty, to
go and come as she pleased.

"Are you very angry because I could not take M. Boulle for a husband?"
she inquired timidly.

"Oh, no, no. It was your life, Mademoiselle, for sorrow or joy. You only
had the right to choose."

The bronze lashes quivered sensitively upon her cheeks, and a soft flush
seemed to tangle itself among them.

"Is it joy, M'sieu?" in a low tone.

"It ought to be."

"Then I shall wait until there comes a touch of joy greater than any I
have yet known. And I have had thrills of delight that have gone all
through my body, but they faded. The love for a husband should last
one's whole life."

"Yes, Mademoiselle. Why not?"

All the white tones of her skin flushed to rose, and crept even among
the tendrils of her hair and over her small ears. Had he ever remarked
how perfect they were before?

"_Ma fille_," he responded softly. "And you will be content until better
times."

"So long as I do not have to marry, yes."

"That is a good _fille_. I shall see you now and then. You will like M.
Hebert. He has plenty of books, and it will be a good practice to read
up French."

She nodded.

He took a second thought.

"You may as well go now, and I will see that all is fair sailing. Noko,
thanks for keeping Rose of Quebec where neither wolves nor marauders
could get at her."

They walked quietly along, she with her agile step, that gave graceful
turns to her figure. She was hardly a woman, and yet more than a child.
But she kept the sweet simplicity of the latter.

Madame Hebert gave her a pleasant welcome. Therese glanced up from her
lace work and n