paled, and her eyes grew big with fear. She leaned against a chair for
support--this man's presence had weakened her so. She stood silent, save
for a slight moan that broke from her lips, as Pierre lighted a cigarette
coolly, and then said to an old Indian woman who sat upon the floor
braiding a basket: "Get up, Ikni, and go away."

Ikni rose, came over, and peered into the face of the half-breed. Then
she muttered: "I know you--I know you. The dead has come back again."
She caught his arm with her bony fingers as if to satisfy herself that he
was flesh and blood, and shaking her head dolefully, went from the room.
When the door closed behind her there was silence, broken only by an
exclamation from the man.

The other drew her hand across her eyes, and dropped it with a motion of
despair. Then Pierre said, sharply: "Bien?"

"Francois," she replied, "you are alive!"

"Yes, I am alive, Lucy."

She shuddered, then grew still again and whispered: "Why did you let it
be thought that you were drowned? Why? Oh, why?" she moaned.

He raised his eyebrows slightly, and between the puffs of smoke, said:

"Ah yes, my Lucy, why? It was so long ago. Let me see: so--so--ten
years. Ten years is a long time to remember, eh?"

He came towards her. She drew back; but her hand remained on the chair.
He touched the plain gold ring on her finger, and said: