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Curwood, James Oliver, 1879-1927

"Flower of the North"

It flashed upon Philip
that Jeanne might have stepped from a convent school, where gentle
voices had taught her and language was formed in the ripe fullness
of music. In a moment he believed that something like this had
happened.
"We will go ashore," he said, searching for an open space. "This
must be tedious to you, if you are not accustomed to it."
"Accustomed to it, M'sieur--Philip!" exclaimed Jeanne, catching
herself. "I was born here!"
"In the wilderness?"
"At Fort o' God."
"You have not always lived there?"
For a brief space Jeanne was silent.
"Yes, always, M'sieur. I am eighteen years old, and this is the
first time that I have ever seen what you people call
civilization. It is my first visit to Fort Churchill. It is the
first time I have ever been away from Fort o' God."
Jeanne's voice was low and subdued. It rang with truth. In it
there was something that was almost tragedy. For a breath or two
Philip's heart seemed to stop its beating, and he leaned far over,
looking straight and questioningly into the beautiful face that
met his own. In that moment the world had opened and engulfed him
in a wonder which at first his mind could not comprehend.


XII

The canoe ran among the reeds, with its bow to the shore.


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