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Updated: June 22, 2025
"Necia gone?" the Canadian jerked out. "Wat you mean by dat? Were she's gone to?" "I don't know nobody knows. God! I'm shaking like a leaf." "Bah! She's feel purty bad! She's go out by herse'f. Dat's all right." "I tell you something has happened to her; there's hell to pay. I found her clothes at the house torn to ribbons and all muddy and wet." Poleon cried out at this.
He was making it very hard for the Frenchman, whose heart was aching already with a dull, unending pain. Poleon had hoped to get away quietly; his heart was too heavy to let him face Necia or this man, and run the risk of their reading his secret, so a plaintive wrinkle gathered between his eyes that grew into a smile.
Necia tugged at his wrist for fear she might not prevail; but he was bent on brushing away a handful of hungry mosquitoes which, warmed by the growing day, had ventured out on the river. His face became wrinkled and set. "Bien!" he grunted. "We lef 'im here, biccause dere ain't 'nough room in de batteau, eh? All right!
From the regions at the rear of the store came the voice of an Indian woman calling: "Necia! Necia!" "Coming in a moment!" the girl called back; then, turning to the young officer, she added, quietly: "Mother needs me now. Good-bye!" The trader's house sat back of the post, farther up on the hill.
Necia had no idea whither she went; her only thought was to flee from her kin, who could not understand, to hide under cover in some solitary place, to let the darkness swallow her up, so that she might give way to her grief and be just a poor, weak woman.
"Wal," he began, nervously, clearing his throat, "it's lak' dis. Dere's feller been talk some 'bout Necia, an' it ain' nice talk neider." "Who is he?" exclaimed the soldier, in a tone that made the girl's heart leap. "Wait! Lemme tol' you w'at he say, den we'll talk 'bout feex 'im plaintee.
Her wistful beauty dazed the young man and robbed him of the words he had rehearsed; but as she made to flee from him, with a pitiful gesture, towards her room, the fear of losing her aroused him and spurred his wit. "Don't go away! I have something I must tell you. I've thought it over, and you've got to listen, Necia." "I am listening," she answered, very quietly.
When the steamer had gone Napoleon Doret went to look for Necia, and found her playing with the younger Gales, who revelled in the gifts he had brought. Never had there been such a surprise. Never had there been such gorgeous presents for little folks.
But a heap of conceits like that have been bred into me from generations back; they run in the blood of every old family in my country, and so, I'm ashamed to say, I hesitated and tried to reason myself into giving her up, but I've had my eyes opened, and I see how little those things amount to, after all. I'm going to marry Necia, Mr. Gale.
"Lieutenant Burrell isn't a Yankee," said Necia. "He is a blue-grass man. He comes from Kentucky." Her father grunted contemptuously. "I might have known it. Those rebels are a cultus, lazy lot. A regular male man with any ginger in him would shed his coat and go to work, instead of wearing his clothes buttoned up all day.
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