“Did they give her their name?”

“No, the people in La Baye did that.  We knew she had another name.  But I think it very likely her title was not used in the settlement where they lived.  Titles are no help in pioneering.”

“Did they call her Madeleine?”

“She calls herself Madeleine.”

“How long has she been with your family?”

“Nearly a year.”

“Did the Jordans tell you when this change came over her?”

“Yes.  It was during the attack when her child was taken from her.  She saw other children killed.  The Indians were afraid of her.  They respect demented people; not a bit of harm was done to her.  They let her alone, and the Jordans took care of her.”

The daughter and adopted daughter of the house came in with a rush of outdoor air, and seeing Eagle first, ran to kiss her on the cheek one after the other.

“Madeleine has come down!” said Marie.

“I thought we should coax her in here sometime,” said Katarina.

Between them, standing slim and tall, their equal in height, she was yet like a little sister.  Though their faces were unlined, hers held a divine youth.

To see her stricken with mind-sickness, and the two girls who had done neither good nor evil, existing like plants in sunshine, healthy and sound, seemed an iniquitous contrast.

If ever woman was made for living and dying in one ancestral home, she was that woman.  Yet she stood on the border of civilization, without a foothold to call her own.  If ever woman was made for one knightly love which would set her in high places, she was that woman.  Yet here she stood, her very name lost, no man so humble as to do her reverence.

“Paul has come,” Eagle told Katarina and Marie.  Holding their hands, she walked between them toward me, and bade them notice my height.  “I am his Cloud-Mother,” she said.  “How droll it is that parents grow down little, while their children grow up big!”

Madame Ursule shook her head pitifully.  But the girls really saw the droll side and laughed with my Cloud-Mother.

Separated from me by an impassable barrier, she touched me more deeply than when I sued her most.  The undulating ripple which was her peculiar expression of joy was more than I could bear.  I left the room and was flinging myself from the house to walk in the chill wind; but she caught me.

“I will be good!” pleaded my Cloud-Mother, her face in my breast.

Her son who had grown up big, while she grew down little, went back to the family room with her.

My Cloud-Mother sat beside me at table, and insisted on cutting up my food for me.  While I tried to eat, she asked Marie and Katarina and Pierre Grignon and Madame Ursule to notice how well I behaved.  The tender hearted host wiped his eyes.

I understood why she had kept such hold upon me through years of separateness.  A nameless personal charm, which must be a gift of the spirit, survived all wreck and change.  It drew me, and must draw me forever, whether she knew me again or not.  One meets and wakes you to vivid life in an immortal hour.  Thousands could not do it through eternity.