A Little Girl in Old Detroit | Page 3

stars
came out for there was no moon to check them. On the Beaufeit farm
they were having a dance. Susanne Beaufeit had been married that
noon in St. Anne. The sound of the fiddles came down like strange
voices from out the woods and I was that frightened--"
"Poor Pani!" caressing the hand tenderly.
"Then you stopped sobbing but you had tight hold of my neck.
Suddenly I gathered you up and ran with all my might to Touchas' hut.
The curtain was up and the fire was burning, and I had grown stiff with

cold and just stumbled on the floor, laying you down. Touchas was so
amazed.
"'Whose child is that?' she said. 'Why, your eyes are like moons. Have
you seen some evil thing?'"
"And you thought me an evil thing, Pani!" said the child reproachfully.
"One never can tell. There are strange things," and the woman shook
her head. "And Touchas was so queer she would not touch you at first.
I unrolled the torn piece of blanket and there you were, a pretty little
child with rings of shining black hair, and fair like French babies, but
not white like the English. And there was no sign of Indian about you.
But you slept and slept. Then we undressed you. There was a name
pinned to your clothes, and a locket and chain about your neck and a
tiny ring on one finger. And on your thigh were two letters, 'J. A.,'
which meant Jeanne Angelot, Father Rameau said. And oh, Mam'selle,
petite fille, you slept in my arms all night and in the morning you were
as hungry as some wild thing. At first you cried a little for maman and
then you laughed with the children. For Touchas' boys were not
grown-up men then, and White Fawn had not met her brave who took
her up to St. Ignace."
"I might have dropped from the clouds," said the child mirthfully. "The
Great Manitou could have sent me to you."
"But you talked French. Up in the above they will speak in Latin as the
good fathers do. That is why they use it in their prayers."
Jeanne nodded with a curl of disbelief in her red-rose mouth.
"So then Touchas and I took you to Father Rameau and I told him the
story. He has the clothes and the paper and the locket, which has two
faces in it--we all thought they were your parents. The letters on it are
all mixed up and no one can seem to make them out. And the ring. He
thought some one would come to inquire. A party went out scouting,
but they could find no trace of any encampment or any skirmish where
there was likely to be some one killed, and they never found any trace.

The English Commandant was here then and Madame was interested in
you. Madame Bellestre would have you baptized in the old church to
make sure, and because you were French she bade me bring you there
and care for you. But she had to die and M. Bellestre had large interests
in that wonderful Southern town, New Orleans, where it is said oranges
and figs and strange things grow all the year round. Mademoiselle
Bellestre was jealous, too, she did not like her father to make much of
you. So he gave me the little house where we have lived ever since and
twice he has sent by some traders to inquire about you, and it is he who
sees that we want for nothing. Only you know the good priest advises
that you should go in a retreat and become a sister."
"But I never shall, never!" with emphasis, as she suddenly sprang up.
"To be praying all day in some dark little hole and sleep on a hard bed
and count beads, and wear that ugly black gown! No, I told Father
Rameau if anyone shut me up I should shout and cry and howl like a
panther! And I would bang my head against the stones until it split
open and let out my life."
"O Jeanne! Jeanne!" cried the horror-stricken woman. "That is wicked,
and the good God hears you."
The girl's cheeks were scarlet and her eyes flashed like points of flame.
They were not black, but of the darkest blue, with strange, steely lights
in them that flashed and sparkled when she was roused in temper,
which was often.
"I think I will be English, or else like these new colonists that are
taking possession of everything. I like their religion. You don't have to
go in a convent and pray continually and be shut out of all beautiful
things!"
"You are very naughty, Mam'selle. These English have spoiled so
many people. There