He laughed. "What I fancy is this, though I am no seer. Destournier is fond of her, fatherly now, but she is shooting up into a tall girl. There will not be so many years between them as the Sieur and Mademoiselle Boullé. And some day he will take her to wife. 'Twere a pity to spoil the romance. She adores him."
Miladi bit her lip hard, and drew her brow into a sharp frown.
"What nonsense!" she made answer.
"Destournier is a fine fellow, and will be a rich one some day."
"The more need that he should marry in his own station."
"But there is talk of reproducing home titles in this new land. And Baron Destournier can raise his wife to his own station. If the child should not be amenable to training, or develop some waywardness, there might be sorrow, rather than joy or satisfaction in thine heart."
"There will be time enough to consider," she returned.
He left the room. She went out on the shady side of the gallery, and looked down over the town. The two under discussion a moment ago were climbing the steep rocks instead of taking the path where steps were cut. The wind blew her shining hair about, her face was filled with ripples of laughter. He took her arm and she would have no help, but sprang like a deer from point to point, then turned to throw her merriment at him.
"Yes, miladi would take her to France. What if some day he should follow?"
The Governor spent a month in intense satisfaction, enlarging the borders of his pet garden, talking with M. Hébert, who had been watching the growth of some fine fruit trees imported from northern France, that had blossomed and were perfecting a few specimens of fruit. He thought sometimes it would be a joy to give up all cares and rest in cultivating the soil. If the summers were short everything grew abundantly. There were several rare plants, also, that they had acclimated.