The movements of her lithe body were beautiful to him—to her the motion and spring of the canoe were splendid, as it answered every stroke and went through the rippling water with a hiss and a rush.
“The lift of the long red swan,” he said.
“Don’t,” she replied. “How he loved it! How he loved that life!”
“And will you never come back to it?”
“I do not know. Afterwards, perhaps—yet no, never.”
“The Indians miss you. Mrs. Abram and Mrs. John often ask me about you. In the winter there is no one to be good to them.”
“I sent them money and blankets,” she answered. “I did all I could.”
“They want you. Mrs. Andrew gave me a charm to bring you back. ‘A little medicine yer know—a love potion of herbs.’ ”
She laughed.
“Is life here successful?” he asked. “Do you like it?”