The heart of this woman was drifting with the canoes,--but with which
man?
"'Tis the gay Nor'wester with his golden curls," whispered Tessa Bibye
sympathetically.
"The Nor'wester? 'Tis little you know, truly, Tessa," said the young
wife of old Corlier. "What maid in her senses would look twice at
yonder be-laced dandy when a man like Anders McElroy stood near?"
"Aye, an' may the Good God have mercy on our factor!" whimpered a
withered old woman, wife of a trapper, making the sign of the cross;
"nor hold back His mercy from the other!"
Night seemed to fall early on Fort de Seviere, waiting sadly for its
healing touch on fevered hearts.
Throughout the long day a waiting hush had lain upon the post, an
expectancy of ill.
Over the dark forest the stars came out on a velvet sky, and a little
wind came out of the south, nightbirds called from the depths, and
peace spread over the Northland like a blanket.
While the twilight lasted with its gorgeous phantasmagoria there were
none of the accustomed sounds of pleasure in the post,--no fiddle
squeaked by the stockade wall, no happy laughter wafted from the
cabins. Even the sleepy children seemed to feel the strangeness and
hushed their peevish crying.
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