ere weary of the suffering around them and
preferred activity. They would be back before winter set in if they met
with any success.

Destournier planned that his wife should be made comfortable while he
was gone. At first she protested, then she sank into a kind of sullen
silence. She had seemed stronger for some weeks.

Rose had gone for her daily walk late in the afternoon. She read miladi
to sleep about this time and was sure of an hour to herself. She was
feeling the severe drain upon her quite sensibly, and though she longed
to throw herself on a couch of moss and study the drifting clouds in the
glory of the parting day, when the sun had gone behind the hills and the
wake of splendor was paling to softer colors; lavender and pale green,
that mingled in an indescribable tint, for which there could be no name.
There was a little coolness in the air, but the breath of the river was
sweet and revived her. Many of the leaves had dried and fallen from the
drought, yet the juniper and cedar were bluish-green in the coming
twilight, with their clusters of berries frostily gray.

But she walked on. There was a craving in her heart for a change, a
larger outlook. It would not be in marrying M. Boulle, though more than
once when she had surprised his eyes bent wistfully upon her, a pang of
pity for him had gone to her heart. Could she spend years waiting on
miladi, whose strength of will kept her alive. Or was it that horrible
fear of death? If it was true as the priests taught--oh, yes, it must
be. God could not be so cruel as to put creatures in this world to toil
and suffer, and then drop back to dust, to nothingness. Even the Indians
believed in another sphere, in their crude superstitious fashion, and
there must be some better place as a reward for the pain here that was
not one's own fault. She loved to peer beyond the skies as she thought,
and to drift midway between them and the grand woods, the changeful sea.
What if one floated off and never came back!

There was a step beside her, and she drew a long breath, though she was
not alarmed, for she almost felt a presence, and turned, waited.

"Rose," the voice said, "I have wanted to find you alone. I have several
things to say. I have promised to go on this expedition because I felt
it was necessary. You will not blame me. I have made all arrangements
for you and miladi, and I shall be back before the real cold weather
sets in. I only pray that we may be successf