"Is it true?" she asked, in a long silence.
"That I shall care for you, yes. That you will be my wife." Then he kissed her tenderly.
"I am so happy. Oh, you cannot think how sad I have been for months, with no one to care for me," and her voice was exquisitely pathetic.
"I have cared for you all this while," he said. "You were like a sister to whom I owed a duty."
"Duty is not quite love," in her soft murmurous tone, touching his cheek caressingly.
He wondered a little what love was like, if this tranquil half pity was all. Madame de Champlain was like a child to her husband, the women emigrants thus far had not been of a high order, and the marriages had been mostly for the sake of a helpmeet and possible children. The Governor had really encouraged the mixed marriages, where the Indian women were of the better sort. A few of them were taking kindly to religion, and had many really useful arts in the way of making garments out of dressed deerskins. He chose rather some of those who had been taken prisoners and had no real affiliation with the tribes. They felt honored by marrying a white man, and now Père Jamay performed a legal and religious ceremony, so that no man could put away his wife.
"Oh, what do you think!" and Rose sprang eagerly to Destournier, catching him by the arm with both hands and giving a swing, as he was pacing the gallery, deep in his new plans. "It is so full of amusement for me. And I can't understand how she can do it. Jules Personeau is such a stupid! And that great shock of hair that keeps tumbling into his eyes. It is such a queer color, almost as if much sitting in the sun was turning it red."
"What about Jules? He is very absent-minded nowadays, and does not attend to his work. The summer will soon be gone."
"Oh, it isn't so much about Jules. Marie Gaudrion is going to marry him."
"Why, then I think it is half about Jules," laughing down into the eager face. "A girl can't be married alone."