"No, Miss DeWolf, I never saw the inside of the box before, I thought there was no key."
"Is it possible? Why what does it mean? Here is surely an old bible with your name written in it in full, 'Antoinette La Clare,' now here it is, you can see for yourself.
Antoinette eagerly took the book, and, having examined the name, proceeded to look it carefully through. It was a pocket bible of the English version in old fashioned binding, and bore marks of long and frequent use.
Little Wolf watched Antoinette's varying countenance as she turned over the leaves. A ray of pleasure, at first, lighted up her sad, wistful face, but slowly faded leaving her apparently more wan and sad than ever, as she returned the volume in silence.
A vague suspicion of evil crept into Little Wolf's mind. How came Antoinette's name in the book and why was she so silent, and why had she appeared so satisfied to remain where they were, if she knew no more about their present abode than she had professed, were a few of the many questions, which awakened distrust, suggested to her busy brain.
The chest had lost its interest and down came the cover with a bang, sadly startling poor Antoinette, who had walked to the window to hide her fast falling tears.
Little Wolf saw the tears and Antoinette felt that she had seen them, and the way was made easy for her to say, "O, Miss DeWolf, I'm a child of sorrow. I am sometimes almost overwhelmed with sorrow. Come, let us sit down together, and I will try to tell you why it is. It seems but a few days since I gaily roamed about my childhood's home, hand in hand with brother Jim, or bloody Jim, as he is called."
"Bloody Jim your brother! It cannot be so!" interrupted Little Wolf in amazement, "I thought he was a half breed."
"So he is a half breed; and he is also my half brother; my father was of French descent and, when a young man, he went to the Red River country and engaged in trapping, and trading with the Indians. For several years he made his home principally among the Chippewas, and, like many others of his class, married an Indian women; brother Jim was the fruit of this marriage. His mother was accidentally drowned when he was quite an infant; soon afterwards my father returned to Canada, leaving his little son in charge of his Indian grandmother. While there he became acquainted with my mother, whom he made his wife with the understanding that she should accompany him to his wild home and be a mother to his motherless child. Perhaps it may be a mystery to you, Miss DeWolf, that a young and cultivated woman could have been so readily induced to expose herself to the hardships and dangers of frontier life."
"O, no!" broke in Little Wolf, enthusiastically, "not if she did it for love."