The Flash From the Spurt of Flame

"Ah, Madame, what else could I do?"

"Why, you might not have followed me;" and with this ambiguous retort,
she moved away, The Chevalier shouldered his ax and made off toward a clump of maples
where several woodsmen were at work. His heart was gay rather than
sad. For would she not be forced to remain here indefinitely? And
whenever Father Chaumonot could spare the men, would he not be one of
them to return to Quebec with her?

The poet and Brother Jacques escorted the two women about the mission;
and squaws, children, and young braves followed them curiously. When
they arrived at the rude chapel, all four knelt reverently. Piles of
lumber, the harvest of the forest, lay on the ground. The women
breathed long and deeply the invigorating odor which hangs like incense
over freshly hewn wood. They drank the bubbling waters of the Jesuits'
well, and wandered about the salt marshes, Victor going ahead with a
forked stick in case the rattlesnake should object to their progress.
Madame was in great spirits. She laughed and sang snatches of song.
Never had Victor seen her more blithe.

"And it was here that Hiawatha came with his white canoe!" she cried;
and tried to conjure up a picture of a venerable Indian with white hair.

"Yes," said Brother Jacques, but without enthusiasm. He could never
hear again that name without experiencing the keenest pain and chagrin.

"Do not look so sad, Brother Jacques," Anne requested. "The terrible
journey is over, and you were not to blame."