Mr.

"Benjamin
water which bordered their narrow beach-gardens; and slender women, with
shining black hair, stood in their doorways knitting. I found my laundress, and then
went on to Jeannette's home, the last house in the row. From the mother, a
Chippewa woman, I learned the Jeannette was with her French father at the
fishing-grounds off Drummond's Island. 'How long has she been away?' I asked.
'Weeks four,' replied the mother, whose knowledge of English was confined to
the price-list of white-fish and blueberries, the two articles of her traffic with the
boarding-house keepers. 'When will she return?' 'Je n'sais.' She knitted on,
sitting in the sunshine on her little doorstep, looking out over the western water
with tranquil content in her beautiful, gentle eyes. As I walked up the beach I
glanced back several times to see if she had the curiosity to watch me; but no,
she still looked out over the western water. Watt was I to her? Less than
nothing. A white-fish was more. A week or two later I strolled out to the Giant's
Stairway and sat down in the little rock chapel. There was a picnic at the Lovers'
Leap, and I had that side of the island to myself. I was leaning back, half asleep, in
the deep shadow, when the sound of voices roused me; a birch-bark canoe was
passing close in shore, and two were in it,--Jeannette and our surgeon. I could
not hear their words, but I noticed Rodney's expression as he leaned forward.
Jeannette was paddling slowly; her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes brilliant.
Another moment and a point hid them from my view. I went home troubled. 'Did
you enjoy the picnic, Miss Augusta?' I said with assumed carelessness, that
evening. 'Dr. Prescott was there, as usual, I suppose?' 'He was not present, but
the picnic was highly enjoyable,' replied Miss Augusta, in her even voice and
impartial manner. 'The Doctor has not been with us for some days,' said the
major's wife, archly; 'I suspect he does not like Mr. Piper.' Mr. Piper was a portly
widower, of sanguine complexion, a Chicago produce-dealer, who was supposed
to admire Miss Augusta, and was now going through a course of 'The Harp that
once.' The last days of summer flew swiftly by; the surgeon held himself aloof; we
scarcely saw him in the garrison circles, and I no longer met him in my rambles.
'Jealousy!' said the major's wife. September came. The summer visitors fled
away hom ward; the remaining 'Indian curiosities' were stored away for another