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Her voice strangled Twisting her fingers, she sat there, eyes closed, duasped out: "O Quiver-bearer, with a white voice and a skin scarce whiter thanHouse, though I be an outcast of clans and nations, speak to host of my dead honor confronts me in every forest-trail!" She stretched out her arms piteously: "Teach me, brother; instruct--cleanse er; I--I dare not hate his My sorrow is heavier than I can bear--and I ahteen--until the snow flies"

She laid her face in her hands once ht tears fell slowly

"Are you Christian, little sister?" I asked, wondering

"I do not know They say so A brave Jesuit converted me ere I was unstrapped from the cradle-board--ere I could lisp or toddle God knows My own brother died in war-paint; aret, ; some call her Catrine, some Esther Yet I was chaste--till he took ht with ive him!"

And this the child of Catrine Montour? This that bestial creature they described to me as soently; "if you are wedded by a istrate falsely witnesses against you, you can not prove it I would give all I have to prove your e Do you understand?"

She looked at

"The woman I love is the woman he now claie place, alone there together in the dith on the floor, her hands clasped on ether, we took counsel how to bring this hty's ultimate punished world ht exact, but a merciful penance--the public confession of the tie that bound hi the Iroquois, an unchaste woman is so rare that when a maiden commits the fault she is like a leper until death releases her froether, too, we searched the littered papers on the floor, piece by piece, bit by bit, but all in vain And while kneeling there I heard a stealthy step behind me, and looked back overin at us, eyeballs fairly starting from his painted face Lyn Montour eyed hihed to see how surely he had followed