"My mother knows the contrary," she said; "why does she not place confidence in me? Has she ever found me unkind?"
"Never; you have always been kind and attentive to me, trying to calm my grief, and dissipate my fears."
"My mother can speak then, as the ears of a friend are open," Sunbeam said to her quietly.
"In truth," the old lady remarked, after some thought, "what I desire is just. Is Sunbeam a mother?" she said, meaningly.
"Yes," she quickly replied.
"Does my daughter love her child?"
The Indian looked at her in surprise.
"Are there mothers in the great island of the whites who do not love their child?" she asked; "My child is myself, is it not my flesh and blood? What is there dearer to a mother than her child?"
"Nothing, that is true." Madame Guillois sighed. "If my daughter were separated from her child, what Would she do?"
"What would I do?" the Indian exclaimed, with a flash in her black eye; "I would go and join him, no matter when, no matter how."