Part 9 (2/2)

”Is it really? How interesting--do tell us some more of your old home, Mrs. McDonald; you so seldom speak of your life at the post, and we fellows so often wish to hear of it all,” said Logan eagerly.

”Why do you not ask me of it, then?”

”Well--er, I'm sure I don't know; I'm fully interested in the Ind--in your people--your mother's people, I mean, but it always seems so personal, I suppose; and--a--a--”

”Perhaps you are, like all other white people, afraid to mention my nationality to me.”

The captain winced and Mrs. Stuart laughed uneasily. Joe McDonald was not far off, and he was listening, and chuckling, and saying to himself, ”That's you, Christie, lay 'em out; it won't hurt 'em to know how they appear once in a while.”

”Well, Captain Logan,” she was saying, ”what is it you would like to hear--of my people, or my parents, or myself?”

”All, all, my dear,” cried Mrs. Stuart clamorously. ”I'll speak for him--tell us of yourself and your mother--your father is delightful, I am sure--but then he is only an ordinary Englishman, not half as interesting as a foreigner, or--or, perhaps I should say, a native.”

Christie laughed. ”Yes,” she said, ”my father often teases my mother now about how _very_ native she was when he married her; then, how could she have been otherwise? She did not know a word of English, and there was not another English-speaking person besides my father and his two companions within sixty miles.”

”Two companions, eh? one a Catholic priest and the other a wine merchant, I suppose, and with your father in the Hudson Bay, they were good representatives of the pioneers in the New World,”

remarked Logan, waggishly.

”Oh, no, they were all Hudson Bay men. There were no rumsellers and no missionaries in that part of the country then.”

Mrs. Stuart looked puzzled. ”No _missionaries_?” she repeated with an odd intonation.

Christie's insight was quick. There was a peculiar expression of interrogation in the eyes of her listeners, and the girl's blood leapt angrily up into her temples as she said hurriedly, ”I know what you mean; I know what you are thinking. You were wondering how my parents were married--”

”Well--er, my dear, it seems peculiar--if there was no priest, and no magistrate, why--a--” Mrs. Stuart paused awkwardly.

”The marriage was performed by Indian rites,” said Christie.

”Oh, do tell me about it; is the ceremony very interesting and quaint--are your chieftains anything like Buddhist priests?” It was Logan who spoke.

”Why, no,” said the girl in amazement at that gentleman's ignorance.

”There is no ceremony at all, save a feast. The two people just agree to live only with and for each other, and the man takes his wife to his home, just as you do. There is no ritual to bind them; they need none; an Indian's word was his law in those days, you know.”

Mrs. Stuart stepped backwards. ”Ah!” was all she said. Logan removed his eye-gla.s.s and stared blankly at Christie. ”And did McDonald marry you in this singular fas.h.i.+on?” He questioned.

”Oh, no, we were married by Father O'Leary. Why do you ask?”

”Because if he had, I'd have blown his brain out to-morrow.”

Mrs. Stuart's partner, who had hitherto been silent, coughed and began to twirl his cuff stud nervously, but n.o.body took any notice of him. Christie had risen, slowly, ominously--risen, with the dignity and pride of an empress.

”Captain Logan,” she said, ”what do you dare to say to me? What do you dare to mean? Do you presume to think it would not have been lawful for Charlie to marry me according to my people's rites? Do you for one instant dare to question that my parents were not as legally--”

”Don't, dear, don't,” interrupted Mrs. Stuart hurriedly; ”it is bad enough now, goodness knows; don't make--” Then she broke off blindly.

Christie's eyes glared at the mumbling woman, at her uneasy partner, at the horrified captain. Then they rested on the McDonald brothers, who stood within earshot, Joe's face scarlet, her husband's white as ashes, with something in his eyes she had never seen before. It was Joe who saved the situation. Stepping quickly across towards his sister-in-law, he offered her his arm, saying, ”The next dance is ours, I think, Christie.”

<script>