In one moment, so keen was the perception of her, she had seen the red
blood in McElroy's face, the wonder on Marie's, and she, too, stood in
the open door.
"Ah, M'sieu!" she said quickly, "do some of them, by chance, come from
the west?"
The tone of her deep voice broke the spell, so subtly natural was it,
and McElroy found his tongue.
"No, Ma'amselle," he smiled, the ease coming back to his blue eyes,
"but I have found something very beautiful among them which I wish you
to have. It is more beautiful than a red flower."
He held up to her the doeskin garment and his eyes were very anxious.
For a moment Maren stared as she had stared at De Courtenay and a
curious expression of perplexity spread on her face.
Truly men were different here in this wilderness from those who lived
at the Grand Portage, and for a moment she drew herself up and the
straight brows began to frown. But as she had felt the whimsical charm
of De Courtenay, so now she felt the eagerness, the taut anxiety of
this man, and she noticed that there was no smile on his face as she
hesitated.
Moreover, Marie was watching, sharp as a little hawk.
"Why, M'sieu," she said, and there was a baffling note to the voice
this time, "why,--you wish me to have this?"
"Yes, Ma'amselle," said McElroy simply.
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