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Updated: July 20, 2025
Destournier occasionally joined the conclave. His heart and soul were in this new land and her advancement, but his wife demanded his company most of his evenings. She sat in her high-backed chair wrapped in furs listening to his reading aloud or appearing to, though she often drowsed off. But there was another who drank in every word, if she did not quite understand.
The Giffards, Destournier, and several others accompanied them to the port, and were then to survey some of the places that had advantages for planting colonies. They did not return until in September. The season was unusually fine and warm, and there had been an abundance of everything. The colonists had been busy enough preparing for winter.
Destournier was strangely moved by this mysterious kinship to nature that he had never experienced before. "We must turn back," he began briefly, though it seemed to him he could gladly go on to a new life in some other land. She nodded. The tide was growing a little stronger, but it was in their favor.
"Now you belong to no one but me," Destournier said to her some weeks later, when she had recovered from her sorrow. "Yet I feel that it is selfish to take your sweet youth. I am no longer young. I shall always be a little lame, and never perhaps realize my dream of prosperity. But I love you. I loved you as a little girl, you have always, in some fashion, belonged to me."
It was true Quebec had received a wonderful hastening in the new-comers and in several grants the King had made concerning the fur trade. The dreary winter was a thing of the past. Destournier came in the next day and insisted the child should be wrapped up and carried out in the sunshine. She seemed light as a baby when he took her in his arms.
I have one very intricate, but handsome, like they make at home, Maman says. And one with beads. I took the idea from an Indian woman. I have some finished work, too." "I have done a little of that. Miladi, that is Madame Destournier, used to do embroidery. At first she had such a store of pretty things. But now they cost so much. Only there are always packs of furs to exchange."
Destournier insisted upon walking at first, as he was freshened by his night's rest, comparatively free from anxiety. His broken leg was well bandaged, and he used two crutches. Rose noticed the thinness and pallor, and the general languid air, but she kept herself quite in the background. Savignon was really leader of the small party.
Scurvy was one enemy, a low sort of fever another. There were many plans to make for the opening of spring. Yet Ralph Destournier would have found it intolerably dull but for the little girl whose name was Rose. He taught her to read Champlain fortunately had some books in French and Latin.
"Go back and keep guard until we see what the dastardly attack means." "There are wives and children in the settlement," was the reply, but he paused while Destournier ran on. When he was out of sight, Giffard followed. The soldiers pursued the flying band, but they presently plunged into the woods and crept on stealthily, while the pursuers returned.
"She left the company because my sister was grown up and not the little girl she imagined. Is she a product of the forest? Her very ignorance is charming." "I am not ignorant!" she returned. "I can read a page in Latin, and that miladi cannot do." "She is a curious child," explained Destournier, "but a sweet and noble nature, and innocent is the better word for it.
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