"
"You have been very good to me. How can I ever thank you?" cried the
girl, impulsively extending her hand. Lapierre took the hand, bowed
over it, and--was it fancy, or did his lips brush her finger-tips?
Chloe withdrew the hand, laughing in slight confusion. To her surprise
she realized she was not in the least annoyed. "How can I thank you,"
she repeated, "for--for throwing aside your own work to attend to mine?"
"Do not speak of thanking me." Once more the man's eyes seemed to burn
into her soul, "I love you! And one day my work will be your work and
your work will be mine. It is I who am indebted to you for bringing a
touch of heaven into this drab hell of Northern brutishness. For
bringing to me a breath of the bright world I have not known since
Montreal--and the student days, long past. And--ah--more than
that--something I have never known--love. And, it is you who are
bringing a ray of pure light to lighten the darkness of my people."
Chloe was deeply touched. "But I--I thought," she faltered, "when we
were discussing the buildings that day, you spoke as if you did not
really care for the Indians.
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