forced to see a grim iron bond of death laid over her domain. And
her father--no longer the grave, kindly old man--had become the
ruthless tyrant. All these bright, laughing _voyageurs_, playmates
of her childhood, were in reality executioners of a savage
blood-law. She could not adjust herself to it.

She got to her feet with an effort. "Thank you, Mrs. Cockburn,"
she said, in a low voice. "I--I do not quite understand. But I
must go now. I must--I must see that my father's room is ready for
him." she finished, with the proud defensive instinct of the woman
who has been deeply touched. "You know I always do that myself."

"Good-night, dearie," replied the older woman, understanding well
the girl's desire to shelter behind the commonplace. She leaned
forward and kissed her. "God keep and guide you. I hope I have
done right."

"Yes," cried Virginia, with unexpected fire. "Yes, you did just
right! I ought to have been told long ago! They've kept me a
perfect child to whom everything has been bright and care-free and
simple. I--I feel that until this moment I have lacked my real
womanhood!"

She bowed her head and passed through the log room into the outer
air.

Her father, _her_ father, had willed this man's death, and so he
was to die! That explained many things--the young fellow's
insolence, his care-free recklessness, his passionate denunciation
of the Reverend Crane and the Reverend Crane's religion. He wanted