“All right—­I shall,” I promised, laughing.

If only Hortense could know all this!  That is the sorrow of rifted lives—­the dark between, on each side the thoughts that yearn.

“And—­and,” Jack was stammering on, “I thought, perhaps, Mistress Rebecca ’d be willing to stand by Mizza,” nodding to the young squaw, “that is, if you asked Rebecca,” pleaded Jack.

“We’ll see,” said I.

For the New England conscience was something to reckon with!

“How did you come here?” I asked.

“Mizza snared rabbits and I stole back my musket when we ran away and did some shooting long as powder lasted——­”

“And then?”

“And then we used bow and arrow.  We hid in the bush till the hostiles quit cruisin’; but the spring storms caught us when we started for the coast.  I s’pose I’m a better sailor on water than land, for split me for a herring if my eyes didn’t go blind from snow!  We hove to in the woods again, Mizza snaring rabbit and building a lodge and keepin’ fire agoin’ and carin’ for me as if I deserved it.  There I lay water-logged, odd’s man—­blind as a mole till the spring thaws came.  Then Mizza an’ me built a raft; for sez I to Miz, though she didn’t understand:  ‘Miz,’ sez I, ’water don’t flow uphill!  If we rig up a craft, that river’ll carry us to the bay!’ But she only gets down on the ground the way she did with you and puts my foot on her neck.  Lordy,” laughs Jack, “s’pose I don’t know what a foot on a neck feels like?  I sez:  ’Miz, if you ever do that again, I’ll throw you overboard!’ Then the backwash came so strong from the bay, we had to wait till the floods settled.  While we swung at anchorman, what d’y’ think happened?  I taught Miz English.  Soon as ever she knew words enough I told her if I was a captain I’d want a mate!  She didn’t catch the wind o’ that, lad, till we were navigating our raft downstream agen the ice-jam.  Ship ahoy, you know, the ice was like to nip us, and lackin’ a life-belt I put me arm round her waist!  Ease your helm!  Port—­a little!  Haul away!  But she understood—­when she saw me save her from the jam before I saved myself.”

And Jack Battle stood away arm’s length from his Indian wife and laughed his pride.

“And by the time we’d got to the bay you’d gone, but Jean Groseillers sent us to the English ship that came out expecting to find Governor Brigdar at Nelson.  We shipped with the company boat, and here we be.”

“And what are you going to do?”

“Oh, I get work enough on the docks to pay for Mizza’s lessons—­”

“Lessons?”

“Yes—­she’s learning sewin’ and readin’ from the nuns, and as soon as she’s baptized we’re going to be married regular.”

“Oh!” A sigh of relief escaped me.  “Then you’ll not need Rebecca for six months or so?”

“No; but you’ll ask her?” pleaded Jack.

“If I’m here.”

As they were going out Jack slipped back from the hallway to the fireplace, leaving Mizza outside.