ing. He could handle his light sail-boat on the squally, treacherous waters of the lake with that instinctive skill of the natural sailor which can never be acquired. He rode and swam as he danced and sang, because it was in his nature to do so perfectly and without effort. It had been his habit from his early youth to pass several months of each year in a region still inhabited by the remnants of an Indian tribe. At first he had been placed under the care of a missionary priest during these long absences from the city; but later he had built himself a wigwam near the camp of the friendly red-men, and had lived their life, hunted and fished with them, smoked his pipe in their company, and listened to their traditions and stories. In his turn he told them of the city and the wonderful things it held. He was known among the tribe as the white brother, and was loved and revered by them as a true and loyal friend. In his trouble his mind turned as it had so often done to his forest friends; but though he longed for the peace and rest of the woods, he could not leave New Orleans.
Feuardent had already been in love once, twice, perhaps a dozen times in his life, more or less, for his blood was very warm and full of sunshine; but he had never felt for any woman what he felt for the pale young Northern girl, with her quiet cool eyes, which had once or
