"When the scows return in a month, I shall go with them," answered the girl dispassionately, "But, not to be married. I am going to school——"
"To school! Mon Dieu! Have you not had enough of school? It is time you were finished with such foolishness. You, who are old enough to be the mother of children, talking of going to school! Bah! It is to laugh! And where would you go—to school?"
"To the convent, at Montreal."
"The devil take these meddlers!" cried the man, rising and pacing rapidly up and down before the girl. Then suddenly he paused and looking down upon her, laughed aloud. "Ha, ha! You would go to Montreal! And what will you do when you get there? What will you say when they ask you who is your father? Eh, what will you tell them?"
The girl looked at him in wide-eyed surprise. "Why, what do you mean? I shall tell them the truth—that my father is dead. Why should I not tell them that my father is dead. He was a good man. My mother has told me."
Again the man laughed, his laugh of cruel derision: "Such innocence! It is unbelievable! They will have nothing to do with you in the land of the white men. They will scorn you and look down upon you. You never had a father——"
The girl was upon her feet, now, facing him with flashing eyes: "It is a lie! I did have a father! And he was a good man. He was not like the father of you, old Boussard, the drunken and thieving old hanger-on about the posts!"
"Aye, I grant you that the old devil is nothing to brag of. I do not point to him with the finger of pride, but he is nevertheless a produceable father. He and my Indian mother were married. I at least am no enfant natural—no batarde! No one can poke at me the finger of scorn, and draw aside in the passing, as from a thing unclean!"
The girl's face flamed red, and tears of rage welled from her eyes: "I do not know what you mean!" she cried, "But I do know that I hate you! I will find out what you mean—and then maybe I will kill you." In her rage she sprang at the man's throat with her bare hands, but he easily thrust her aside, and sobbing she ran toward the mission.
It was long after midnight that Snowdrift emerged from the room of Sister Mercedes. The girl had gone straight to the Nun and asked questions, nor would she be denied their answers. And so explaining, comforting, as best she could, the good Sister talked till far into the night. Snowdrift