presence of the Indian mother, the common room, were like silent
protests.

'Marry,' ejaculated Jeannette.

'Yes, love' said the surgeon, ardently. 'It is quite true; Father
Piret shall marry us. I will exchange into another regiment, or, if
necessary, I will resign. Do you understand what I am saying,
Jeannette? See! I give you my hand, in token that it is true.'

But, with a quick bound, the girl was across the room. 'What?' she
cried. 'You think I marry you? Have you not heard of Baptiste?
Know, then, that I love one finger of him more than all you, ten
times, hundred times.'

'Baptiste?' repeated Rodney.

'Oui, mon cousin, Baptiste, the fisherman. We marry soon--
tenez--la fete de Saint Andre.'

Rodney looked bewildered a moment, then his face cleared; 'Oh! a child
engagement? That is one of your customs, I know. But never fear;
Father Piret will absolve you from all that. Baptiste shall have a
fine new boat; he will let you off for a handful of silver pieces. Do
not think of that, Jeannette, but come to me--'

'Je vous abhorre; Je vous deteste,' cried the girl with fury as
he approached. 'Baptiste not love me? He love me more than boat and
silver dollar,--more than all the world! And I love him; I die for
him! Allez-vous-en, traitre!'