Tannis sprang up and rushed in.  She was too late for even a parting look.

The girl took Carey’s hand in hers, and turned to the weeping Elinor with a cold dignity.

“Now go,” she said.  “You had him in life to the very last.  He is mine now.”

“There must be some arrangements made,” faltered Elinor.

“My father and brother will make all arrangements, as you call them,” said Tannis steadily.  “He had no near relatives in the world—­none at all in Canada—­he told me so.  You may send out a Protestant minister from town, if you like; but he will be buried here at the Flats and his grave with be mine—­all mine!  Go!”

And Elinor, reluctant, sorrowful, yet swayed by a will and an emotion stronger than her own, went slowly out, leaving Tannis of the Flats alone with her dead.