“I really wonder that Gaspard let him go. There was no reason why they should not marry.”
“And she has some fortune of her own. Why, yes, she could have gone with him. I hope he will not forget her. There are so many attractive women there.”
Wawataysee studied her earnestly a few days afterward, when she had been sitting in silence.
“What has changed you so, Renée?” she asked with much solicitude. “There is a surmise in the air that you are grieving after André. What happened between you? For I know he loved you sincerely.”
“I grieving?” Then Renée’s face went scarlet and she could hardly refrain from tears. “It is not André. I seldom think of him. Oh, how cruel and unjust! And it is not true.”
“But something troubles you,” in a tender tone.
Renée was silent.
“And you never have been so unhappy before. Why do you not tell your uncle?”
“No, I cannot,” and Renée shivered.
“Then, dear, why not go to the good father? I should if I had any sorrows. But what can I have to pain me, with such a good husband and my lovely children, who are like angels? And Father Lemoine said last month, ‘Madame, your confession is a thanksgiving instead.’ He is so kindly, that Father Lemoine. But you must find some relief, or you will waste quite away.”