MID-SUMMER
Since our arrival from Westchester the weather had been more or less
unsettled--fog, rain, chilling winds alternating with days of midsummer
heat. But now the exhausting temperature of July remained constant;
fiery days of sunshine were succeeded by nights so hot and suffocating
that life seemed well-nigh insupportable under tents or in barracks,
and officers and men, almost naked, lay panting along the river bank
through the dreadful hours of darkness which brought no relief from the
fiery furnace of the day.
Schott's riflemen mounted guard stripped to the waist; the Oneidas and
Stockbridge scouts strode about unclothed save for the narrow clout and
sporran; and all day and all night our soldiers splashed in the river
where our horses also stood belly deep, heads hanging, under the
willows.
During that brief but scorching period I went to Mrs. Rannock's every
evening after dark, and usually found Lois lying in the open under the
stars, the garret being like an oven, so she said.
Here we had made up our quarrel, and here, on the patch of uncut
English grass, we lay listlessly, speaking only at intervals, gasping
for air and coolness, which neither darkness nor stars had brought to
this sun-cursed forest-land.
But for the last two nights I had not found Lois waiting for me, nor
did Mrs. Rannock seem to know whither she had gone, which caused me
much uneasiness.
The third evening I went to find her at Mrs. Rannock's before the
after-glow had died from the coppery zenith, and I encountered her
moving toward the Spring path, just entering the massed elder bloom.
Her face was dewy with perspiration, pale, and somewhat haggard.
"Lois, why have you avoided me?" I exclaimed. "All manner of vague
forebodings have assailed me these two days past."
"Listen to this silly lad!" she said impatiently. "As though a few
hours' absence lessen loyalty and devotion!"
"But where have you been?"
"Where I may not take you, Euan."
"And where is that?" I asked bluntly.
"Lord! What a catechism is this for a free girl to answer willy-nilly!
If you must know, I have played the maid of ancient Greece these two
nights past. Otherwise, I had died, I think."
And seeing my perplexed mien, she began to laugh.
"Euan, you are stupid! Did not the Grecian maids spend half their lives
in the bath?"
The slight flush of laughter faded from her face; the white fatigue
came back; and she passed the back of one hand wearily across her brow,
clearing it of the damp curls.
"The deadly sultriness of these nights," she sighed. "I was no longer
able to endure the heat under the eaves among my dusty husks. So lately
I have stolen at night to the Spring Waiontha to bathe in the still,
cold pools. Oh, Euan, it is most delicious! I have slept there until
dawn, lying up to my throat in the crystal flood." She laughed again.
"And once, lying so, asleep, my body slipped and in I slid, deep, deep
in, and awoke in a dreadful fright half drowned."
"Is it wise to sleep so in the Water?" I asked uneasily.
"Oh! Am I ever wise?" she said wearily. "And the blood beats in my
veins these heated nights so that I am like to suffocate. I made a bed
for me by Mrs. Rannock, but she sobbed in her sleep all night and I
could not close my eyes, So I thought of the Spring Waiontha, and the
next instant was on my way there, feeling the path with naked feet
through the starlight, and dropped my clothing from me in the darkness
and sank into the cool, sweet pool. Oh, it was heaven, Euan! I would
you might come also."
"I can walk as far as the pool with you, at all events," said I.
"Wonderful! And will you?"
"Do I ever await asking to follow you anywhere?" said I sentimentally.
But she only laughed at me and led the way across the dreary strip of
clearing, moving with a swift confidence in her knowledge of the place,
which imitating, I ran foul of a charred stump, and she heard what I
said.
"Poor lad!" she exclaimed contritely, slipping her hand into mine. "I
should have guided you. Does it pain you?"
"Not much."
Our hands were clasped, and she pressed mine with all the sweet freedom
of a comradeship which means nothing deeper. For I now had learned from
her own lips, sadly enough, how it was with her--how she regarded our
friendship. It was to her a deep and living thing--a noble emotion, not
a passion--a belief founded on gratitude and reason, not a confused,
blind longing and delight possessing every waking moment, ever creating
for itself a thousand tender dreams or fanciful and grotesque
apprehensions.
Clear-headed so far, reasonable in her affection, gay or tender as the
mood happened, convinced that what I declared to be my love for her was
but a boy's exaggeration for the same sentiments she entertained toward
me, how could she have rightly understood the symptoms of this amazing
malady that possessed me--these reasonless extremes of ardour, of
dejection, of a happiness so keen and thrilling that it pained
sometimes, and even at moments seemed to make me almost drunk.
Nor did I myself entirely comprehend what ailed me, never having been
able to imagine myself in love, or ever dreamed that I possessed the
capacity for such a violent devotion to any woman. I think now, at that
period, somewhere under all the very real excitement and emotion of an
adolescent encountering for the first time the sweet appeal of youthful
mind and body, that I seemed to feel there might be in it all something
not imperishable. And caught myself looking furtively and a little
fearfully at her, at times, striving to conceive myself indifferent.
When we came to the Spring Waiontha I had walked straight into the
water except for her, so dark it was around us. And:
"How can you ever get back alone?" said she.
"Oho!" said I, laughing, "I left the willow-tips a-dangle, breaking
them with my left hand. I am woodsman enough to feel my way out."
"But not woodsman enough to spare your shins in the clearing," she said
saucily.
"Shall we sit and talk?" I said.
"Oh, Euan! And my bath! I am fairly melting as I stand here."
"But I have not seen you for two entire nights, Lois."
"I know, poor boy, but you seem to have survived."
"When I do not see you every day I am most miserable."
"So am I--but I am reasonable, too. I say to myself, if I don't see
Euan today I will nevertheless see him to-morrow, or the day after, or
the next, God willing----"
"Lois!"
"What?"
"How can you reason so coldly?"
"I--reason coldly? There is nothing cold in me where you are concerned.
But I have to console myself for not seeing you----"
"I am inconsolable," said I fervently.
"No more than am I," she retorted hotly, as though jealous that I
should arrogate to myself a warmer feeling concerning her than she
entertained for me.
"I care so much for you, Lois," said I.
"And I for you."
"Not as I care for you."
"Exactly as you care for me. Do you think me insensible to gratitude
and affection?"
"I do not desire your gratitude for a few articles----"
"It isn't for them--though I'm grateful for those things too! It's
gratitude to God for giving me you, Euan Loskiel! And you ought to take
shame to yourself for doubting it!"
I said nothing, being unable to see her in the darkness, much less
perceive what expression she wore for her rebuke to me. Then as I stood
silent, I felt her little hands groping on my arm; and my own closed on
them and I laid my lips to them.
"Ai-me!" she said softly. "Why do we fight and fret each other? Why do
I, who adore you so, let you vex me and stir me to say what I do not
mean at all. Always remember, Euan--always, always--that whatever I am
unkind enough to say or do to vex you, in my secret mind I know that no
other man on earth is comparable to you--and that you reign first in my
heart--first, and all by yourself, alone."
"And will you try to love me some day, Lois?"
"I do."
"I mean----"
"Oh, Euan, I do--I do! Only--you know--not in the manner you once spoke
of----"
"But I love you in that manner."
"No, you do not! If you did, doubtless I would respond; no doubt at all
that I also would confess such sentiments in your regard. But it isn't
true for either of us. You're a man. All men are prone to harp on those
strings.... But--there is no harmony in them to me.... I know my own
mind, although you say I don't--and--I do know yours, too. And if a day
ever comes that neither you nor I are longer able to think clearly and
calmly with our minds, but begin to reason with our emotions, then I
shall consider that we are really entering into a state of love--such
as you sometimes have mentioned to me--and will honestly admit as much
to you.... And if you then desire to wed me, no doubt that I shall
desire it, too. And I promise in that event to love you--oh, to death,
Euan!" she said, pressing my hands convulsively. "If ever I love--that
way--it truly will be love! Are you content with what I say?"
"I must be."
"What an ungracious answer! I could beat you soundly for it! Euan, you
sometimes vex me so that I could presently push you into that pool....
I do not mean it, dearest lad. You know you already have my
heart--perhaps only a child's heart yet, though I have seen ages pass
away.... And my eyes have known tears.... Perhaps for that reason I am
come out into this new sunshine which you have made for me, to play as
children play--having never done so in my youth. Bear with me, Euan.
You would not want me if there were nothing in me to respond to you. If
there ever is, it will not remain silent. But first I want my play-day
in the sunshine you have promised me--the sunlight of a comrade's
kindness. Be not too blunt with me. You have my heart, I tell you. Let
it lie quiet and safe in your keeping, like some strange, frail
chrysalis. I myself know there is a miracle within it; but what that
miracle may be, I may not guess till it reveals itself."
"I am a fool," I said. "God never before sent any man such a comrade as
He has sent in you to me."
"That was said sweetly and loyally. Thank you. If hearts are to be
awakened and won, I think it might be done that way--with such pleasant
phrases--given always time."
Presently she withdrew her hands and slipped away from me in the dark.
"Be careful," said I, "or you will slip overboard."
"I mean to presently."
"Then--must I go so soon?"
She did not answer. Once I thought I heard her moving softly, but the
sound came from the wrong direction.
"Lois!"
No reply.
"Lois!" I repeated uneasily.
There was a ripple in the pool, silence, then somewhere in the darkness
a faint splash.
"Good Lord!" said I. "Have you fallen in?"
"Not fallen in. But I am truly in, Euan. I couldn't endure it any
longer; and you didn't seem to want to go.... So please remain where
you now are."
"Do you mean to say----" I began incredulously.
And, "Yes, I do!" she said, defiant. "And I think this ought to teach
you what a comrade's perfect confidence can be. Never complain to me of
my want of trust in you again."
In astonished and uneasy silence, I stood listening. The unseen pool
rippled in the darkness with a silvery sound, as though a great fish
were swirling there in the pallid lustre of the stars.
After a while she laughed outright--the light, mischievous laughter of
a child.
"I feel like one of those smooth and lurking naiads which haunt lost
pools--or like some ambushed water-sprite meditating malice, and slyly
alert to do you a harm. Have a care, else I transform you into a fish
and chase you under the water, and pinch and torment you!"
And presently her voice came again from the more distant darkness
somewhere:
"Has the box which you commanded arrived yet, Euan?"
"It is at my hut. A wagon will bring it to you in the morning."
I could hear her clap her wet little hands; and she cried out softly:
"Oh!" and "Oh!" Then she said: "I did not understand at first how much
I wished for everything you offered. Only when I saw the ladies at
Croghan's house, as I was coming with my mending from the fort--then I
knew I wanted everything you have bespoken for me.... Everything, dear
lad! Oh, you don't know how truly grateful I shall be. No, you don't,
Euan! And if the box is really come, when am I going with you to be
made known to Mistress Bleecker?"
"I think it is better that I first bring her to you."
"Would she condescend to come?"
"I think so."
There was a pause. I seated myself. Then the soft and indecisive sound
of ripples stirred by an idle hand broke the heated silence.
"You say they all are your good friends?" she remarked thoughtfully.
"I know them all. Lana Helmer I have known intimately since we were
children."
"Then why is it not better to present me to her first--if you know her
so very well?"
"Mrs. Bleecker is older."
"Oh! Is this Miss Helmer then so young?"
"Your age."
"Oh! My age.... And pretty?"
"The world thinks so."
"Oh! And what do you think, Euan?"
"Yes, she is pretty," said I carelessly.
There was a long silence. I sat there, my knees gathered in my arms,
staring up at the stars.
Then, faintly came her voice:
"Good-night, Euan."
I rose, laid hold of the willow bush that scraped my shoulders, felt
over it until I found the dangling broken branch; stepped forward,
groping, until I touched the next broken branch. Then, knowing I was on
my trail, I turned around and called back softly through the darkness:
"Good-night, little Lois!"
"Good-night, and sweet dreams, Euan. I will be dressed and waiting for
you in the morning to go to Mrs. Bleecker, or to receive her as you and
she think fitting.... Is there a looking glass in that same wonder-box?"
"Two, Lois."
"You dear and generous lad!... And are there hair-pegs? Heaven knows if
my clipped poll will hold them. Anyway, I can powder and patch,
and--oh, Euan! Is there lip-red and curd-lily lotion for the skin? Not
that I shall love you any less if there be none----"
"I bespoke of Mr. Hake," said I, laughing, "a full beauty battery, such
as I once saw Betty Schuyler show to Walter Butler, having but then
received it from New York. And all I know, Lois, is that it was full of
boxes, jars, and flasks, and smelled like a garden in late June. And if
Mr. Hake has not chosen with discretion I shall go South and scalp him!"
"Euan, I adore you!"
"You adore your battery," said I, not convinced.
"That, too. But you more than my mirrors, and my lip-red, and the lily
lotion--more than my darling shifts and stays and shoon and gowns!... I
had never dreamed I could accept them from you. But you had become so
dear to me--and I could read you through and through--and found you so
like myself--and it gave me a new pleasure to humble my pride to your
desires. That is how it came about. Also, I saw those ladies.... And I
do not think I shall be great friends with your Lana Helmer--even when
I am fine and brave in gown and powder to face her on equal terms----"
"Lois, what in the world are you babbling?"
"Let me babble, Euan. Never have I been so happy, so content, so
excited yet so confident.... Listen; do you dread tomorrow?"
"I?"
"Yes--that I might not do you honour before your fashionable
friends?... And I say to you, have no fear. If my gowns are truly what
I think they are, I shall conduct without a tremour--particularly if
your Lana be there, and that careless, rakish friend of yours,
Lieutenant Boyd."
"Do you remember what you are to say to Boyd if he seems in any wise to
think he has met you elsewhere?"
"I can avoid a lie and deal with him," she said with calm contempt.
"But there is not a chance he'd know me in my powder."
There was a silence. Then the unseen water rippled and splashed.
"Poor Euan!" she said. "I wish you might dare swim here in this
heavenly place with me. But we are not god and goddess, and the fabled
age is vanished.... Good-night, dear lad.... And one thing more.... All
you are to me--all you have done for me--don't you understand that I
could not take it from you unless, in my secret heart, I knew that one
day I must be to you all you desire--and all I, too, shall learn to
wish for?"
"It is written," I said unsteadily. "It must come to pass."
"It must come," she said, in the hushed voice of a child who dreams,
wide-eyed awake, murmuring of wonders.
I slept on the river-sand, not soundly, for all night long men and
horses splashed in the water all around me, and I was conscious of many
people stirring, of voices, the dip of paddles, and of the slow
batteaux passing with the wavelets slapping on their bows. Then, the
next I knew--bang! And the morning gun jarred me awake.
I had bathed and dressed, but had not yet breakfasted when one of our
regimental wagons came to take the box to Lois--a fine and noble box
indeed, in its parti-coloured cowhide cover, and a pretty pattern of
brass nails all over it, making here a star and there a sunburst,
around the brass plate engraven with her name: "Lois de Contrecoeur."
Then the wagon drove away, and the Sagamore and I broke bread together,
seated in the willow shade, the heat in our bush-hut being
insupportable.
"No more scalps, Mayaro?" I taunted him, having already inspected the
unpleasant trophies behind the hut. "How is this, then? Are the Cats
all skinned?"
He smiled serenely. "They have crept westward to lick their scars,
Loskiel. A child may safely play in the forest now from the upper
castle and Torloch to the Minnisink."
"Has Amochol gone?"
"To make strong magic for his dead Cats, little brother. The Siwanois
hatchets are still sticking in the heads of Hiokatoo's Senecas. Let
their eight Sachems try to pull them out."
"So you have managed to wound a Seneca or two?"
"Three, Loskiel--but the rifle was one of Sir William's, and carried to
the left, and only a half-ounce ball. My brother Loskiel will make
proper requisition of the Commissary of Issues and draw a weapon fit
for a Mohican warrior."
"Indeed I will," said I, smilingly, knowing well enough that the
four-foot, Indian-trade, smooth bore was no weapon for this warrior;
nor was it any kindness in such times as these to so arm our corps of
Oneida scouts.
After breakfast I went to the fort and found that Major Parr and his
command had come in the night before from their long and very arduous
scout beyond the Canajoharrie Castle.
The Major received me, inquiring particularly whether I had contrived
to keep the Sagamore well affected toward our cause; and seemed much
pleased when I told him that this Siwanois and I had practiced the rite
of blood-brotherhood.
"Excellent," said he. "And I don't mind admitting to you that I place
very little reliance on the mission Indians as guides--neither on the
Stockbridge runners nor on the Oneidas, who have come to us more in
fear of the Long House than out of any particular loyalty or desire to
aid us."
"That is true, sir. They had as soon enter hell as Catharines-town."
The Major nodded and continued to open and read the letters which had
arrived during his absence.
"May I draw one of our rifles for my Mohican, sir?" I asked.
"We have very few. Schott's men have not yet all drawn their arms."
"Nevertheless----"
"You think it necessary?"
"I think it best to properly arm the only reliable guide this army has
in its service, Major."
"Very well, Mr. Loskiel.... And see that you keep this fellow in good
humour. Use your own wit and knowledge; do as you deem best. All I ask
of you is to keep this wild beast full fed and properly flattered until
we march."
"Yes, sir," I said gravely, thinking to myself in a sad sort of wonder
how utterly the majority of white men mistook their red brethren of the
forest, and how blind they were not to impute to them the same humanity
that they arrogated to themselves.
So much could have been done had men of my blood and colour dealt nobly
with a noble people. Yet, even Major Parr, who was no fool and who was
far more enlightened than many, spoke of a Mohican Sagamore as "this
wild beast," and seriously advised me to keep him "full fed and
properly flattered!"
"Yes, sir," I repeated, saluting, and almost inclined to laugh in his
face.
So I first made requisition for the lang rifle, then reported to my
captain, although being on special detail under Major Parr's personal
orders, this was nothing more than a mere courtesy.
The parade already swarmed with our men mustering for inspection; I met
Lieutenant Boyd, and we conversed for a while, he lamenting the
impossibility of making a boating party with the ladies, being on duty
until three o'clock. And:
"Who is this new guest of Mrs. Bleecker?" he asked curiously. "I
understand that you are acquainted with her. What is her name? A Miss
de Contrecoeur?"
I had not been prepared for that, never expecting that Mrs. Bleecker
had already started to prepare the way; but I kept my countenance and
answered coolly enough that I had the honour of knowing Miss de
Contrecoeur.
"She came by batteau from Albany?"
"Her box," said I, "has just arrived from Albany by batteau."
"Is the lady young and handsome?" he asked, smiling.
"Both, Mr. Boyd."
"Well," he said, with a polite oath, "she must be something more, too,
if she hopes to rival Lana Helmer."
So it had already come to such terms of intimacy that he now spoke of
her as Lana. For the last few days I had not been to Croghan's house to
pay my respects, the heat leaving me disinclined to stir from the shade
of the river trees. Evidently it had not debarred Boyd from presenting
himself, or her from receiving him, although a note brought to me from
Mrs. Bleecker by her black wench said that both she and Angelina
Lansing were ill with the heat and kept their rooms.
"We are bidden to cake and wine at five," said I. "Are you going?"
He said he would be present, and so I left him buckling on his belt,
and the conch-horn's blast echoing over the parade, sounding the
assembly.
At the gate I encountered Lana and Mrs. Lansing and our precious
Ensign, come to view the inspection, and exchanged a gay greeting with
them.
Then, mending my pace, I hastened to Croghan's house, and found Mrs.
Bleecker pacing the foot-path and nibbling fennel.
"How agreeably cool it is growing," she said as I bent over her
fingers. "I truly believe we are to have an endurable day at last." She
smiled at me as I straightened up, and continued to regard me very
intently, still slightly smiling.
"What has disturbed your usual equanimity, Euan? You seem as flushed
and impatient as--as a lover at a tryst, for example."
At that I coloured so hotly that she laughed and took my arm, saying:
"There is no sport in plaguing so honest a heart as yours, dear lad.
Come; shall we walk over to call upon your fairy princess? Or had you
rather bring her here to me?"
"She also leaves it to your pleasure," I said; "Naturally," said Mrs.
Bleecker, with a touch of hauteur; then, softening, smiled as much at
herself as at me, I think.
"Come," she said gaily. "Sans cérémonie, n'est-ce pas?"
And we sauntered down the road.
"Her box arrived last evening," said I. "God send that Mr. Hake has
chosen to please her."
"Is he married?"
"No."
"Lord!" said she gravely. "Then it is well enough that you pray....
Perhaps, however," and she gave me a mischievous look, "you have
entrusted such commissions to Mr. Hake before."
"I never have!" I said earnestly, then was obliged to join in her
delighted laughter.
"I knew you had not, Euan. But had I asked that question of your
friend, Mr. Boyd, and had he answered me as you did, I might have
thought he lied."
I said nothing.
"He is at our house every day, and every moment when he is not on
duty," she remarked.
"What gallant man would not do the like, if privileged?" I said lightly.
"Lana talks with him too much. Angelina and I have kept our rooms, as I
wrote you, truly dreading a stroke of the sun. But Lana! Lord! She was
up and out and about with her lieutenant; and he had an Oneida to take
them both boating--and then he had the canoe only, and paddled it
himself.... They were gone too long to suit me," she added curtly.
"When?"
"Every night. I wish I knew where they go in their canoe. But I can do
nothing with Lana.... You, perhaps, might say a friendly word to Mr.
Boyd--if you are on that footing with him--to consider Lana's
reputation a little more, and his own amusement a little less."
I said slowly: "Whatever footing I am on with him, I will say that to
him, if you wish."
"I don't wish you to provoke him."
"I shall take pains not to."
She said impatiently: "There are far too many army duels now. It
sickens me to hear of them. Besides, Lana did ever raise the devil
beyond bounds with any man she could ensnare--and no harm done."
"No harm," I said. "Walter Butler had a hurt of her bright eyes, and
sulked for months. And many another, Mrs. Bleecker. But somehow, Mr.
Boyd--"
She nodded: "Yes--he's too much like her--but, being a man, scarcely as
innocent of intention, I've said as much to her, and left her
pouting--the silly little jade."
We said nothing more, having come in sight of the low house of logs
where Lois dwelt.
"The poor child," said Mrs. Bleecker softly. "Lord! What a kennel for a
human being!"
As we approached we saw Mrs. Rannock crossing the clearing in the
distance, laden with wash from the fort; and I briefly acquainted my
handsome companion with her tragic history. Then, coming to the door, I
knocked. A lovely figure opened for us.
So astonished was I--it having somehow gone from my mind that Lois
could be so changed, that for a moment I failed to recognise her in
this flushed and radiant young creature advancing in willowy beauty
from the threshold.
As she sank very low in her pretty reverence, I saw her curly hair all
dusted with French powder, under the chip hat with its lilac ribbons
tied beneath her chin--and the beauty-patch on her cheek I saw, and how
snowy her hands were, where her fingers held her flowered gown spread.
Then, recovering, she rose gracefully from her reverence, and I saw her
clear grey eyes star-brilliant as I had never seen them, and a
breathless little smile edging her lips.
On Mrs. Bleecker the effect she produced was odd, for that proud and
handsome young matron had flushed brightly at first, lips compressed
and almost stern; and her courtesy had been none too supple either.
Then in a stupid way I went forward to make my compliments and bend low
over the little hand; and as I recovered myself I found her eyes on me
for the first time--and for a brief second they lingered, soft and
wonderful, sweet, tender, wistful. But the next moment they were clear
and brilliant again with controlled excitement, as Mrs. Bleecker
stepped forward, putting out both hands impulsively. Afterward she said
to me:
"It was her eyes, and the look she gave you, Euan, that convinced me."
But now, to Lois, she said very sweetly:
"I am certain that we are to become friends if you wish it as much as I
do."
Lois laid her hands in hers.
"I do wish it," she said.
"Then the happy accomplishment is easy," said Mrs. Bleecker, smiling.
"I had expected to yield to you very readily my interest and sympathy,
but I had scarce expected to yield my heart to you at our first
meeting."
Lois stood mute, the smile still stamped on her lips. Suddenly the
tears sprang to her eyes, and she turned away hastily; and Mrs.
Bleecker's arm went 'round her waist.
They walked into the house together, and I, still dazed and mazed with
the enchanted revelation of her new loveliness, wandered about among
the charred stumps, my thoughts a heavenly chaos, as though a million
angels were singing in my ears. I could even have seen them, save for a
wondrous rosy mist that rolled around them.
How long I wandered I do not know, but presently the door opened, and
Lois beckoned me, and I went in to find Mrs. Bleecker down on her knees
on the puncheon floor, among the mass of pretty finery overflowing from
the box.
"Did Mr. Hake's selection please you?" I asked, "Oh, Euan, how can I
make you understand! Everything is too beautiful to be real, and I am
certain that a dreadful Cinderella awakening is in store for me."
"Yes--but she wore the slipper in the end."
Lois gave me a shy, sweet look, then, suddenly animated, turned eagerly
once more to discuss her wardrobe with her new friend.
"Your Mr. Hake has excellent taste, Euan," observed Mrs. Bleecker.
"Or," she added laughingly, "perhaps your late prayer helped." And to
Lois she said mischievously: "You know, my dear, that Mr. Loskiel was
accustomed to petition God very earnestly that your wardrobe should
please you."
Lois looked at me, the smile curving her lips into a happy tenderness.
"He is so wonderful," she said, with no embarrassment. And I saw Mrs.
Bleecker look up at her, then smilingly at me, with the slightest
possible nod of approbation.
For two hours and more that pair of women remained happy among the
ribbons and laces; and every separate article Lois brought to me
naively, for me to share her pleasure. And once or twice I saw Mrs.
Bleecker watching us intently; and when discovered she only laughed,
but with such sweetness and good will that it left me happy and
reassured.
"We have arranged that Miss de Contrecoeur is to share my room with me
at Croghan's," said Mrs. Bleecker. "And, Euan, I think you should send
a wagon for her box at once. The distance is short; we will stroll home
together."
I took my leave of them, contented, and walked back to the fort alone,
my heart full of thankfulness for what God had done for her that day.