more," and he helped himself. "Isn't that compliment enough?"

"A few such would make me another hot day's work," she replied,
laughing. "Pretty talk would be cheaper and more satisfactory in
the long run. Even the flour in these pates I ground with my own
hand in an Indian mortar. That was hard work too."

By this time Rene had forgotten the river house and the liquor.
With softening eyes he gazed at Alice's rounded cheeks and sheeny
hair over which the light from the curious earthen lamp she bore
in her hand flickered most effectively. He loved her madly; but
his fear of her was more powerful than his love. She gave him no
opportunity to speak what he felt, having ever ready a quick,
bright change of mood and manner when she saw him plucking up
courage to address her in a sentimental way. Their relations had
long been somewhat familiar, which was but natural, considering
their youth and the circumstances of their daily life; but Alice
somehow had kept a certain distance open between them, so that
very warm friendship could not suddenly resolve itself into a
troublesome passion on Rene's part.

We need not attempt to analyze a young girl's feeling and motives
in such a case; what she does and what she thinks are mysteries
even to her own understanding. The influence most potent in
shaping the rudimentary character of Alice Tarleton (called
Roussillon) had been only such as a lonely frontier post could
generate. Her associations with men and women had, with few
exceptions, been unprofitable in an educational way, while her
reading in M. Roussillon's little library could not have given her
any practical knowledge of manners and life.