See, M'sieu," she
leaned forward so close that the fragrance of her curls blew into the
man's nostrils and he could see that the little face was pale with a
passion that caused him wonder; "see! Today came one from the forest
bringing love's message to that tall woman of Grand Portage,--the
little red flower in the birchbark case. It spoke its tale and she
knew,"--subtle Francette!--"she knew its meaning by the eye of love
itself. So would I, who have no words and am a woman, send my message
by a flower."
The hands on the factor's knees were trembling with a rigour that shook
the whole small form before him.
"See, M'sieu!" she cried, with the sudden sound of tears in the low
voice; "read the heart of the little Francette!"
She took from her bosom a fragile object and laid it in his palm, then
clasped her hands over her face and bowed until the little head with
its running curls was low to the log step.
McElroy strained his eyes to see what he held.
It was a dried spray of the blossoms of the saskatoon.
For a moment he sat in stupid wonder. Then swiftly, more by intuition
and that strange sense which recalls a previous happening by a touch,
or a smell, than by actual memory, he saw that golden morning when he
had stopped by the Molines' cabin and watched the great husky balance
on his shaky legs.
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