"
"Well, I've never been so comfortable," he said--"never so--happy. If
you don't mind the trouble!" The Indian woman nodded pleasantly, and
found an excuse to leave the room. But before she went she contrived
to place near his elbow one of the scraps of paper on which Pauline had
drawn his face, with that of Manette. It brought a light of hope and
happiness into his eyes, and he thrust the paper under the fur robes of
the couch.
"What are you doing with your life?" Pauline asked him, as his eyes
sought hers a few moments later.
"Oh, I have a big piece of work before me," he answered eagerly, "a great
chance--to build a bridge over the St. Lawrence, and I'm only thirty!
I've got my start. Then, I've made over the old Seigneury my father left
me, and I'm going to live in it. It will be a fine place, when I've done
with it--comfortable and big, with old oak timbers and walls, and deep
fireplaces, and carvings done in the time of Louis Quinze, and dark red
velvet curtains for the drawingroom, and skins and furs. Yes, I must
have skins and furs like these here.
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