"For what good?" she asked sorrowfully.
"What do you mean?" the tigrero asked sharply, though the girl's accent made him start; "Why, to regain your strength of course."
"Let me remain awake, father; I could not sleep, however tired I might feel; sleep will fly my eyelids."
The Canadian examined her for a moment with the greatest attention.
"What is the meaning of this?" he asked, shaking his head meditatively.
"Nothing, father," she replied, as she tried to force a smile.
"Girl, girl," he muttered, "all this is not quite clear; I am only a poor hunter, very ignorant of matters of the world, and my mind is simple; but I love you, child, and my heart tells me you are suffering."
"I?" she exclaimed in denial; but all at once she burst into tears, and falling on the hunter's manly chest, she hid her face in his bosom, and murmured in a choking voice—
"Oh, father, father, I am so wretched."
Tranquil, at this exclamation, torn from her by the force of pain, started as if a serpent had stung him; his eye sparkled, he gave the girl a look full of paternal love, and compelled her with gentle constraint to look him in the face.