She covered her face a moment, while my father rose abruptly and left the room. I kissed the dear hands that long since had given to heavy toil their beauty and shapeliness.
But enough of this, for, after all, it is neither here nor there. Quick and unexpected fortune came to many a pioneer, as it came to my mother, by inheritance, as one may see if he look only at the records of one court of claims—that of the British.
"Before long you may wish to marry," said my mother, as she looked up at me proudly, "and you will not be ashamed to bring your wife here."
I vowed, then and there, I should make my own fortune,—I had Yankee enough in me for that,—but, as will be seen, the wealth of heart and purse my mother had, helped in the shaping of my destiny. In spite of my feeling, I know it began quickly to hasten the life-currents that bore me on. And I say, in tender remembrance of those very dear to me, I had never a more delightful time than when I sat by the new fireside with all my clan,—its number as yet undiminished,—or went roistering in wood or field with the younger children.
The day came when D'ri and I were to meet the ladies. We started early that morning of the 12th. Long before daylight we were moving rapidly down-river in our canoes.
I remember seeing a light flash up and die away in the moonlit mist of the river soon after starting.
"The boogy light!" D'ri whispered. "There 't goes ag'in!"
I had heard the river folk tell often of this weird thing—one of the odd phenomena of the St. Lawrence.
"Comes alwus where folks hev been drownded," said D'ri. "Thet air's what I've hearn tell."
It was, indeed, the accepted theory of the fishermen, albeit many saw in the boogy light a warning to mark the place of forgotten murder, and bore away.