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Updated: May 28, 2025
Madame and the little girl, piloted by Wanamee, visited several of the wigwams, and the surprise of the Indian women at seeing the white lady and the child was great indeed. Rose was rather afraid at first, and drew back. "They take it that you are the wife of the great father in France, that is the King," translated Wanamee, "because you have crossed the ocean.
Rose wanted to ask a solemn question, but she did not dare. Presently Wanamee dozed off, but Rose watched until the eastern sky began to show long levels of light. There seemed an awesome stillness in the room. "Wanamee," she said faintly. The woman rose and looked at the figure on the bed, standing some seconds in silence. "Go out quietly, ma fille, and find Mawha. Send her in."
They had all gone " "Quebec looks like a besieged camp. Laurent, that is my husband," with a bright color, "said I could see it from the gallery, and that it resembled a great show. I went out and found you. At first I thought you were dead. But the Indian woman, Jolette is her Christian name, but I should have liked Wanamee better, carried you in here and after a while brought you to.
After they had eaten, they resolved to push on, and started with good courage. The storm had ceased and the stars were pricking through the blue. The moon would rise later on. But it was midnight when they came in sight of the fort. The warm welcome made amends for all. Wanamee took Rose under her protection. She was nearly exhausted.
He recalled now that she had gone up to the convent quite often with Wanamee, and that more than once she had slipped into Madame de Champlain's prie-dieu, that her husband never would have disturbed. Was she finding fortitude and comfort in a devotion to religion that would strengthen her to meet this tremendous sacrifice? She looked like a saint already.
"You are quite sure that you will not consent to M. Boullé's wishes?" she inquired, as they turned in and out of the winding path. "You shall be left entirely free. You shall not marry at all, if you prefer," he answered solemnly. "Oh, a thousand thanks. And you will convince miladi. I think she wishes M. Boullé all success. I must go make my peace with Wanamee and get some supper."
"That is a long way off." "Yes. And Wanamee is calling thee." "The priest says we must call her Jolette, that is her Christian name. Must I have another name? Well, I will not. Good-night," and away she ran. He fell into rumination again. What would she say to his marriage? He had a misgiving she would take it rather hardly.
Ralph Destournier was a Frenchman at heart, though a little English blood ran in his veins. He had a strong desire to see France. "Will you go?" he asked of Rose. "Not until the year is ended," she said gravely. "But if you will go Wanamee and Pani can care for me. I am a little girl no longer." It was true. There was no more little girl, but there was no more old Quebec.
You would have to be squaw to some brave." Rose shuddered. No, she could but die. De Loie started out on the path he had come. It was mid-afternoon. A light snow began to fall, and the wind moaned in the trees. Rose and Wanamee huddled together at the fire, their arms around each other, under the blanket. It was easy to love Wanamee.
The weather was growing colder. They halted for the night, and made a fire. They had shot nothing, but the supper was very light, indeed. "Little Rose," said Destournier, "come over beside me, since I cannot well come to you. I have hardly seen you, and have not asked what has gone on at the fort. I feel as if I had been away half a lifetime. And miladi " "Wanamee will tell you, I cannot."
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