"Stay with me," pleaded Rose. "You know when I went away M. Destournier used to come in. I do not like to leave her alone."
"It is curious," exclaimed Wanamee. "This morning she seemed so well, and walked about. Then she sinks down. How long she has been ill, this way."
Rose wanted to ask a solemn question, but she did not dare. Presently Wanamee dozed off, but Rose watched until the eastern sky began to show long levels of light. There seemed an awesome stillness in the room.
"Wanamee," she said faintly.
The woman rose and looked at the figure on the bed, standing some seconds in silence.
"Go out quietly, ma fille, and find Mawha. Send her in." Then she turned Rose quite around, and the girl uttered no question.
"What is the matter?" asked Pani. "Mam'selle, you are white as a snowdrift."
"I think miladi is dead," and she drew a long, strangling breath, her figure trembling with unknown dread.
Pani bowed and crossed himself several times.
Wanamee came in presently. "The poor lady is gone," she said reverently. "She was so afraid of dying, and it was just like a sleep. Pani, you must row up to the convent at once, and ask some of the fathers to come down. Stop first at the fort and tell the Governor."