ldfly Lake; and the heart of Eye-of-the-Moon is strong.

Thou art here.

The trail is open to the White Valley, and the Scarlet Hunter hath
saved me, when my feet strayed in the plains and my eyes were
blinded.

Thou art here.

I have friends on the Far Off River who show me the yards where the
musk-ox gather; I have found the gardens of the young sable, and my
tents are full of store.

Thou art here.

In the morning my spirit is light, and I have harvest where I would
gather, and the stubble is for my foes. In the evening my limbs are
heavy, and I am at rest in my blanket. The hunt is mine and sleep
is mine, and my soul is cheerful when I remember thee.

Thou art here.

I have built for thee a place where thy spirit comes. I hear thee
when thou callest to me, and I kneel outside the door, for thou art
wise, and thou speakest to me; but thee as thou art in a far land I
shall see no more. This is my word to thee, that thou mayst know
that I am not alone. Thou shalt not come again, as thou once went;
it is not meet. But by these other ways I will speak to thee.

Thou art here.

Farewell. I have spoken.

Lali finished reading, and then slowly folded up the letter. The writing
was that of the wife of the factor at Fort Charles--she knew it. She
sat for a minute looking straight before her. She read her father's
allegory. Barbarian in so much as her father was, he had beaten this
thing out with the hammer of wisdom. He missed her, but she must not
come back; she had outgrown the old life--he knew it and she was with
him in spirit, in his memory; she understood his picturesque phrases,
borrowed from the large, affluent world about him. Something of the
righteousness and magnanimity of this letter passed into her, giving her
for an instant a sort of peace. She had needed it--needed it to justify
herself, and she had been justified. To return was impossible--she had
known that all along, though she had not admitted it; the struggle had
been but a kind of remorse, after all. That her father should come to
her was also impossible--it was neither for her happiness nor his. She
had been two different persons in her life, and the first was only a
memory to the second. The father had solved the problem for her. He too
was now a memory that she could think on with pleasure, as associated
with the girl she once was. He had been well provided for by her
hus