CHAPTER VI
BY THE FIRESIDE
Renee mended slowly. She had indeed been very ill. She was so weak thatit tired her to sit up among the pillows in her bed. And one day whenshe insisted upon getting up she dropped over into Mere Lunde's arms.
"Where is all my strength gone to?" she inquired pettishly.
"_Pauvre petite_," it was queer, and the good woman had no science toexplain it.
But her throat improved and her voice cleared up, the fever grew lighterevery day and she began to have some appetite. Friends came in toinquire and sympathize and bring delicacies. Madame Renaud offered herservices, but no one was really needed, though the cordial, smiling facedid Renee good. Ma'm'selle Barbe brought the two little girls, wholooked awestricken at the pale face, where the eyes seemed bigger thanever.
Uncle Gaspard made a sort of settle on which they could put somecushions and blankets so that she could be brought out to the livingroom and watch Mere Lunde at her work. Then he improved upon it and madeit into a kind of chair with a back that could be raised and lowered byan ingenious use of notches and wooden pins. He was getting so handythat he made various useful articles, for in those days in these uppersettlements there were so few pieces of furniture that could bepurchased, unless some one died and left no relatives, which was veryseldom. Proud enough one was of owning an article or a bit of china or agown that was a family heirloom.
"Oh," he said one evening when she was comfortably fixed and the blazeof the great logs lighted up the room and made her pale face a littlerosy, "I had almost forgotten--you have been so ill it drove most otherthings out of my mind. Your grandfather came up here on Christmas dayand brought you a gift."
"A gift! Oh, what was it?"
"Mere Lunde had not forgotten, but she had a superstitious feeling aboutit. I will get it for you," Gaspard said.
He returned from the adjoining room with the box in his hand. It wasvery securely fastened with a twisted bit of deerskin, which was oftenused for cord.
"Open it," she begged languidly.
He cut the cord but did not raise the cover. She held it some seconds inher hand.
"Uncle, do you remember you told me about a girl who opened a box andlet troubles out all over the world?"
"But she was bidden not to. Grandpere Antoine did not leave any suchword as that," smilingly.
She raised the cover slowly. There was a bit of soft white fur in thebottom and on it lay a golden chain and a cross, with a pearl set wherethe arms and upright met. In the clasp was a smaller pearl. She held itup silently.
"The good saints must have touched his soul!" ejaculated Mere Lunde. "Abeautiful cross! It is gold?" with a questioning glance at Denys.
Renee handed it to him.
"Oh, yes, gold of course. And your grandfather seemed quite moved withpity for you. I saw him again this morning, but he said, 'Oh, I did notthink she would die.'"
Renee's eyes were wide open, with a startled light. "Did anybodythink--that?" and her voice trembled.
"You may be sure I did not," exclaimed Denys with spirit, almost withjoyousness. "I would not have let you go."
She held out both arms to him, and he clasped her to his heart.
"But people are compelled to sometimes," said Mere Lunde gravely.
"We were not compelled. And now you are to get well as rapidly aspossible. Everybody has been having a merry time with the king's ball,and you have missed it. But there is next year."
How far away next year seemed! Spring, and summer, and autumn.
"How long have I been ill? It is queer, but I don't seem to rememberclearly," trying to think, and studying the leaping blaze that seemedlike a group of children playing tag, or hide and seek.
"It is almost a month. First it was pretty bad," and he compressed hislips with a queer expression and shook his head. Now he had let his hairgrow quite long, as most of the men did, and the ends fell into a sortof curl.
"And then--Mere Lunde, the things you gave me were very bad and bitter,and my head used to go round, I remember. Sometimes things stood on theceiling in such a funny position. And then to be like a baby, hardlyable to walk."
She gave a soft, languid ripple of a laugh. Ah, what if he had lost her!
"And when can I go out?"
"Oh, not in a long while. It is bitter cold, even the river is full ofice chunks. But you may dance at the next king's ball."
"The king's ball?" inquiringly.
"Not the King of France," with a gentle smile. "When the Christ was bornthree kings came to do Him honor. And the feast is always kept."
"The blessed Epiphany," explained Mere Lunde. "Though why it should begiven over to all this merry-making I can't see."
"Did you ever go?" asked Renee.
"Oh, yes. But not last year--I had started for Canada. And the yearbefore I was up with the hunters."
"Tell me about it."
He sat down beside her. She was twisting the chain about her fingers.
"There is not much to do for the people who stay here in the winter,though New Orleans is twice as gay. So they have the balls. There arefour queens, pretty young girls, and they each choose a king and openthe ball with him. Then they dance. But the old people and a good manyof the children go as well. And there is dancing and jollity and a feastof good things to eat, and much laughing and jesting and falling inlove, with the marrying at Easter. Next year we will go."
"I will keep my chain to wear then." She put it back in the box. "Andwhen I am well I will go down and thank grandfather."
"Yes, yes, that will be the right thing to do. I will take you."
Then they were silent awhile. "Tell me some of the stories you know,"she entreated.
"I have told you so many."
"But you can think of one more," in her coaxing tone. "Away up in thenorth and the endless fields of snow, and where does it end?"
"At the North Pole, I believe."
"And what is that?" eagerly.
"We will have to ask Dr. Montcrevier. I have never been farther thanHudson's Bay."
"But people can't live in such endless cold!"
"I think not. Only polar bears and the white and silver fox, and theycome down in the winter. And then there are islands hundreds of milesaway below us, where it is always summer."
"What a queer world!" She smiled absently as if she could hardly take itin. "Have you been there?"
"Only to New Orleans. Some day we will go there, too."
"Oh, how much there is to do. Yes, one must live a long while to do itall," and a thoughtful expression deepened her eyes.
"And you are tired, little one. You must go to bed."
It was strange to get so tired. She had been tired many times on thelong journey from Canada, but not like this. She was very glad she hadnot died, however, though she had no very clear idea about death, exceptthat it meant going to another world. Uncle Gaspard was here, and thatwas one reason why she wanted to stay.
Presently she began to go about and take pleasure in having the childrencome in and tell her about their sports. The life was so simple, themain thing seemed to be the good times. No one troubled about educationand there were no "higher branches" to vex one's soul. There was muchless dissipation here than in New Orleans or even Detroit, where peoplefrom other towns were continually mingling.
One day Uncle Gaspard took her out on his sledge. She had never dreamedof anything so splendid. Great fields of snowy white, as far as the eyecould see, dotted here and there with a cluster of wigwam poles andbrown skins stretched on the outside for warmth. A little blue-graysmoke curled lazily upward, and then the bluest sky over it all. The airwas exhilarating and brought a color to her pale cheeks, and made hereyes glow like stars.
Then spring came. The white blanket melted away, the evergreens andspruces scented the air with their new growth; the little streams rushedhither and thither as if they were joyfully carolling, birds sang andbuilt everywhere. Children were out for wild flowers, and raced aroundli
ke deers. Some days the old mound was alive with them, then they weredown to Chouteau's pond. The boys and often some girls went up the riverin canoes. There was the old rock of Fort St. Louis with its story of ahundred years agone, of how La Salle had built a fort and planted anIndian colony, that, when its leader had gone, dwindled and went back toits native tribes. How there had been a fierce quarrel between theIllinois and the Outgamies, and the Illinois had fled to the top of therock and stayed there until starvation stared them in the face andFrench intervention came to their assistance.
Then business opened and Gaspard Denys found his hands full. His wideacquaintance with the hunters and his dealings with the Indians broughthim in a great deal of trade. There was a continual loading andunloading of boats, the levee was thronged. Denys had to take in aclerk, and his evenings were devoted to straightening accounts andpreparing for the next day, and it seemed to Renee as if he was alwaysbusy now, with no time for stories.
Easter brought a gay festival and several weddings. The young_voyageurs_ were warmly welcomed home and there was always a feast or aball given in their honor. When the houses were too small, they went outand danced on the green. Marriages seemed an especially social affair.The families on both sides made the agreement and were mutually pleased.It was seldom a young couple disregarded the respect universally paid toparents, and though there was much pioneer life there was a kind ofelegance and refinement among the women with all their vivacious gayety.The admixture of Spanish blood was no bad element.
One of the young traders had brought home with him a beautiful Indianwife, lawfully wedded by one of the mission priests. These mixedmarriages were not in much favor with the French. Now and then a trapperbrought in one and stayed a few months, but she nearly always preferredto share his hunting expeditions. Still, there were some comfortablysettled, whose families years afterward were very proud of their Indiandescent.
Francois Marchand found an old friend in Gaspard Denys. It does not takea decade to cement a friendship made over camp-fires and days filledwith adventures and dangers. They had not met in two years, and theyouth, who seemed but a stripling to Gaspard then, was now a fine youngfellow, his slim figure filled out, his thin face rounded with certainlines of energy, determination, and good health. His clear blue eyeswere resolute and undaunted; his chestnut hair was cropped close, whichmade him less of an object for an Indian's scalping knife.
"How the town has grown!" he exclaimed with great earnestness. New St.Louis would have laughed at the idea that twenty or thirty familiescould add much importance. But there had been a few new houses built,sundry additions made to older ones where families had increased.Colonel Chouteau was beautifying the house and grounds where hislamented chief and dear friend had lived. The government house had beenrepaired, though the new occupant seemed much more indifferent than hispeople, and cared very little for the interest of the town in general.
"We shall have a fine place by and by," returned Denys. "True, NewOrleans has the mouth of the great river, but if no boats come down,what then? And we are the half-way house, the north and the south bothneed us. If it were not for these troublesome restrictions on trade, andthe fear of the British."
"France, it seems, has sided with the colonies, and Spain has given thema certain sympathy," returned Marchand. "You hear a good deal of talk upnorth. The fur dealers of New Amsterdam are quite sure the colonies willwin in the end, though by my faith it doesn't look very promising now,"and he gave a doubtful laugh.
"Almost five years of losing and winning! Well, they are plucky not tobe discouraged. But what troubles me a little are the English overthere!" nodding to the eastward. "If some fine day they descend uponus--well, we shall be wiped out, that is all about it! The government atNew Orleans does not seem to care, and sends us this drunken, insolentfellow for commandant, who is as set in his own ways as a mule."
"The English will be kept busy enough on the eastern coast defendingtheir ports and trying to capture the cities. Faith! it is a great andglorious country, and I hardly know which has the best, the east or thewest. If some day the way is cleared to the Pacific coast, and then,presto! India!"
India was still a dream of the advancement of commerce. The westernempire was to turn more than one brain.
Denys studied the young face in the glow of youthful enthusiasm.
"Marchand, you should have been a soldier," he said.
"Well, which side shall I take?" mockingly. "I am French. Those cursedEnglish have driven us out of Canada. Thank Heaven we have left somegraves of heroes there. But I wonder what Louis le Grand could have beenthinking of to allow himself to be despoiled of such a magnificentestate! And here we were all turned over to Spain without even a chanceto fight for our homes in the New World," and Marchand gave a strong,scornful laugh. "There are still the Indians left."
"We have kept good friends with them so far."
"But the British can stir them up easily. Rum and firearms may do themischief. Still, it is true that some day I may have to fight for mylife, or something I hold dearer than life."
"Are you going back north?"
Marchand shook his head. He was sitting on a pile of skins leaningagainst the wall, picturesque in his _voyageur's_ attire, which washighly ornamented with Indian work. Now and then in the intervals oftalk he blew out a volume of smoke from his pipe, or made rings in theair when he took it from his mouth. There was something jaunty andlight-hearted about him in spite of the resolute eyes.
"Nay," with a shake of the head, "I have cut myself out of that. I likethe life, too. Denys, were you ever very much in love? But no, that is afoolish question, for you are the sort of man to fight for the one whoroused your soul. And so many pretty girls are here in St. Louis!"
"Yes, I heard you had married," evading the half inquiry.
"I want you to see her, my beautiful Indian prize. Though I suspectthere is a strain of French blood back of her mother, who was broughtsomewhere from Canada. And when her father was killed at one of thosedreadful massacres up on the strait (her mother had died before), sheand her brother were adopted in one branch of the Huron tribe. Herbrother married a chief's daughter. I saw her first more than a yearago, in the winter. She was only a child, not as forward as most Indianmaids. And last winter we met again, and yes, fell in love with eachother. The squaw who had been like a mother to her consented. Butstraightway there was trouble. Her brother had chosen a brave for her, afellow noted for his fighting propensities and his love of drink. It wassurmised that he was buying her. She shrank from him with horror. He hadhad two wives already, and rumor said he had beaten one to death. I wasready to leave with my men and pack, and she came to me in terror anddespair. She would have killed herself, I know, before she could havegone to such a brute. We loved each other, and the old woman Nasaukapitied us, and had a strong liking for me. So it was arranged. I was tostart with my people, leaving her behind. When the train was severaldays under way I was to remain at a given point where Nasauka was tomeet me with the girl, and then return to ward suspicion from the righttrack. I only hope the poor woman did not suffer for her kindly sympathyfor us. We made our way along without any alarm. At a mission station apriest married us. And now we are safe here and doubtless unsuspected.But I shall not expose myself to any dangers, at least for several yearsto come. There are other trails to work on. Or we may go farther south."
"Quite a romantic story, Marchand. The saints be praised that yourescued her from such a life, though I think she would have chosen deathrather. I have known of several instances. Yes, it will be safer not tovisit the old hunting ground, even if the brave solaces himself with anew wife."
"And now you must see her. I know there is a little prejudice, and,"with a cynical sort of smile, "if I had a sister I should not let hermarry an Indian if I had to shut her up in a convent. But there are manycharming Indian girls and kindly hearted squaws, true as steel, who willsuffer anything rather than betray. Strange, too, when you find so muchdeceit and falseness and cruel
ty among the men."
"The women take all the virtues, perhaps. Yes, I shall be glad towelcome you. To-morrow you will bring her to dine with us. Meanwhile,you have found a home?"
"With the Garreaus. Pierre did the same thing, you know, and is happyenough with his two pretty children. Ah, when you see my beautiful wifeyou will not wonder that I went mad for her," laughing with a kind ofgay triumph.
Ah, if he had been brave enough at twenty to fly with Renee Freneau! Butwould she have dared an unblessed marriage? And then neither dreamed ofsuch a result from the journey to Canada.
"I shall not blame you," Gaspard answered gravely. "And if you want astaunch friend, here he is," springing up and holding out his hand.
"A thousand thanks, Gaspard Denys. I wanted to tell you my story. It isnot for every one, only the fact that I have loved and married her. Andnow it grows late. Good-night."
They clasped hands again cordially. Denys shut his shop door and wentthrough to the other room. Mere Lunde was telling over some beads. Reneesat in the chimney corner, but the fire was out long ago.
"Why did you let that man talk so long to you?" with prettyimperiousness. "And I grew very sleepy. But I wanted to say good-night."
"He had much to relate, a story you will like to hear sometime. And heis coming to-morrow to bring a pretty Indian wife that he found up bythe Strait of Michilimackinac. That is a long name, is it not?"
"And is the strait long--as long as to the end of the millpond?"
"It is of more account. It connects the big Lake Michigan with LakeHuron."
Geography had not come to be one of the studies, and the only maps werethe traders' rough outlines of journeys.
She was not considering the lakes. Her thoughts were as rapid as abird's flight.
"Is she like Mattawissa?"
"Oh, younger, much younger. Only a girl. Fifteen or sixteen perhaps.They will come to dinner to-morrow. Mere Lunde," raising his voice alittle, "we shall have guests to-morrow. Give us a good dinner."
"Guests! How many?" in a cheerful tone.
"Oh, only two. A young trader and his wife, a pretty Indian girl.Unless, indeed, some one else drops in."
This often happened in a town where there were no inns, and sometimesled to rather amusing episodes when a traveller mistook the wide-opendoors and a bountiful table for a hostelry.
"Did you see her?" asked Renee, following out her own thoughts.
"No, but I have known him some time. He was a young lad here in thetown, Francois Marchand."
Mere Lunde shut down the cover of the box that held her beads, andpicked up the end of her stout apron. It always seemed to assist hermemory.
"Marchand. And a boy. Had he very blue eyes?"
"Yes, and he has them still," laughed Denys.
"Then I know. He was a nice lad. It is a thousand pities he has marriedan Indian. Yes, you shall have a good dinner. Renee, it is time thouwent to bed."
Renee rose and kissed Uncle Gaspard. She had, ever since her illness,that seemed to have drawn them nearer together, if such a thing had beenpossible.
As a great honor the next day, she brought out her pretty bowl andfilled it with flowers. Uncle Gaspard had made a small table with adrawer that held Mere Lunde's beads and some other choice articles, andhad a shelf low down on which was kept a work-basket with sewingmaterials, for at times Renee was seized with a fit of devotion to herneedle. On the top of the table she set the bowl.
Curious eyes had followed Francois Marchand down the Rue de l'Eglise.For with a vanity quite natural the young girl had taken in her flighther beautifully ornamented dress that would have adorned any Indianbride. Long afterward in the Marchand family they used to displaygrandmere's exquisitely worked suit.
Gaspard Denys with Renee by the hand went out to the gate to bid themwelcome. Renee almost stared. A slim, graceful figure of medium height,with a face that in some towns would have attracted more attention thanthe attire. Large, soft eyes of dusky, velvety blackness, a complexionjust tinted with Indian blood, the cheeks blossoming in the mostexquisite rose hue, while the lips were cherry red. Her long hair wasbrushed up from her straight, low brow, held with a band of glitteringbead work, and falling about her shoulders like a veil, much softer andfiner than ordinary Indian hair. Her short skirt had a band of shiningwhite feathers overlapping each other, with here and there a cluster ofyellow ones that resembled a daisy. The fine, elegantly dressed fawnskinwas like velvet. The bodice was wrought with beads and variously coloredthreads and a sort of lace the Indian women made, though it was aninfrequent employment, being rather tedious. Over her shoulders a capeof soft-dressed, creamy skin, with designs worked here and there in finedetail.
She colored daintily on being presented to M. Denys, and he in turnbrought forward his little protege, who held up her head proudly andfelt almost as tall. But a second glance conquered Renee. She profferedboth hands cordially.
"Oh, I am sure I shall like you," she cried frankly. How could any onehelp adoring so much beauty! For Renee was not envious of beauty alone.
The young wife took the hands with glad pressure, and they went intogether.
"Here is a friend who remembers you," said Denys to Marchand. "Her sondied, and at that juncture I wanted a housekeeper. She fits inadmirably."
Mere Lunde trembled with delight when he shook her hand so heartily andexpressed his pleasure at seeing her again, declaring that she had grownyounger instead of older, which was true enough, so great a restorer isfreedom from care and fear of coming want.
"But the child?" said Marchand with curiosity in his eyes.
The child was playing hostess to the young wife with the ease and graceof a true Frenchwoman, and displaying the adornments of her room. Thisand that had come from Mattawissa, who made beautiful articles thatUncle Gaspard sent to New Orleans, and who was sweet and friendly, notlike some of the morose old Indian women about. But then Mattawissa wasnot old.
Gaspard smiled at the little girl's chatter, and explained briefly.
"One would hardly think such a pretty innocent thing could belong to oldAntoine! Is he still in with the river pirates? His goods must be hiddensomewhere. He does not keep them in the house, it would seem, for theguards found nothing when they searched."
"He is a shrewd old dog," replied Gaspard. "But his wife and hisdaughter were of a different kind. And you see he could not have takencharge of the child."
Marchand nodded.
The dinner was certainly Mere Lunde's best. The men had their talk abouttrade and who was prospering, but the two girls, who sat side by side,had some gay laughs, and occasionally hard work to understand eachother. Wawataysee, the Firefly, as she was called in her nativelanguage, knew a little French and a little English, and often confusedthem. Renee had picked up a few words of English, but the tongue wasquite despised at that time. And when the dinner was through they wentout to walk, pausing at the little old church and the priest's house onthe way to the fort, and the little plot about.
Father Valentine came out and gave them a cordial greeting. Denys didthe honors.
The priest bent his head close to Marchand's.
"You have been true and fair with this beautiful girl?" he asked alittle anxiously. "She is your lawful wife?"
"Yes, oh, a thousand times yes. Here is the good father's signature andthat of the witnesses. It was at the little mission at St. Pierre's."
He took out a bundle of papers in a deerskin wallet. Tied securely in alittle package by itself was the priest's certificate.
Father Valentine nodded, well pleased. "And she is a baptizedChristian," he added. "I wish you both much happiness."
"Suppose you keep this awhile for me," said Marchand, "while I amchanging about. I hardly know yet where I shall settle."
"Gladly will I oblige you. But why not stay here, my son? St. Louisneeds industry and energy and capable citizens for her upbuilding."
"I am thinking of it, I confess. I have already met with a warm welcomefrom old friends
."
They walked round about the fort. Wawataysee knew curious legends ofPontiac and had heard of the siege of Detroit. Indeed, many of theHurons had participated in it. And here was the end of so much braveryand energy, misdirected, and of no avail against the invincible march ofthe white man.