with the silent woman for a price
that astonished her and was back within the post, walking hurriedly
toward the cabin of the Baptistes.

At the door Marie met him, her bright eyes sparkling with the honour of
this visit of him who was the Law, the Head of De Seviere, and at her
eager greeting the first abating of the flush within took hold upon him.

He stood like a boy, the gorgeous garment hanging in his hand and the
word on his lips forgotten.

"Madame," he stammered, "I would--" and got no further.

Sudden embarrassment took him and he grew angry with himself.

What could he say, how dared he do what he had done?

He could have thrown the white garment into the river in his sudden
vexation. Factor of the post, he had made of himself a stammering youth,
all for sake of the compelling beauty of a woman's eyes.

But at that moment, while Marie stood blankly on the sill holding to the
doorside and the silence grew unbearable, there was a step within the
cabin and Maren Le Moyne came from the inner room.

In one moment, so keen was the perception of her, she had seen the red
blood in McElroy's face, the wonder on Marie's, and she, too, stood in
the open door.

"Ah, M'sieu!" she said quickly, "do some of them, by chance, come from
the west?"

The tone of her deep voice broke the spell, so subtly natural was it,
and McElroy found his tongue.

"No, Ma'amselle," he smiled, the ease coming back to his blue eyes, "but
I have found something very beautiful among them which I wish you to
have. It is more beautiful than a red flower."

He held up to her the doeskin garment and his eyes were very anxious.

For a moment Maren stared as she had stared at De Courtenay and a
curious expression of perplexity spread on her face.

Truly men were different here in this wilderness from those who lived at
the Grand Portage, and for a moment she drew herself up and the straight
brows began to frown. But as she had felt the whimsical charm of De
Courtenay, so now she felt the eagerness, the taut anxiety of this man,
and she noticed that there was no smile on his face as she hesitated.

Moreover, Marie was watching, sharp as a little hawk.

"Why, M'sieu," she said, and there was a baffling note to the voice this
time, "why,--you wish me to have this?"

"Yes, Ma'amselle," said McElroy simply.

The girl stooped and took it from him, and for a moment her hand lay
against his palm, a smooth warm hand.

"And you wish me to