The Etchemin sat down on the ground, and her mistress on the platform behind the chancel rail, when everything else was done, to make a fresh rope of evergreen. The climbing and reaching and lifting had heated their faces, and the cool salt air flowed in, refreshing them. Their hands were pricked by the spiny foliage, but they labored without complaint, in unbroken meditation. A monotonous low singing of the Etchemin's kept company with the breathing of the sea. This decking of the chapel acted like music on the Abenaqui girl. She wanted to be quiet, to enjoy it. By the time they were ready to shut the door for the night the splash of a rising tide could be heard. Fog obliterated the islands, and a bleak gray twilight, like the twilights of winter, began to dim the woods. "The sagamore has made a new law," said the Etchemin woman, as they came in sight of the fort. Madockawando's daughter looked at the unguarded bastions, and the chimneys of Pentegoet rising in a stack above the walls. "What new law has the sagamore made?" she inquired. "He says he will no more allow a man to put away his first and true wife, for he is convinced that God does not love inconstancy in men." "The sagamore should have kept his first wife himself." "But he says he has not yet had her," answered the Etchemin woman, glancing aside at the princess. "The sagamore will not see the end of the sugar-making to-night." "Because he sits alone every night by his fire," said Madockawando's daughter; "there is too much talk about the sagamore. It is the end of the sugar-making that your mind is set on." "My husband is at the camps," said the Etchemin plaintively. "Besides, I am very tired." "Rest yourself, therefore, by tramping far to wait on your husband and keep his hands filled with warm sugar. I am tired, and I go to my lodge." "But there is a feast in the camps, and nobody has thought of putting a kettle on in the village. I will first get your meat ready." "No, I intend to observe a fast to-night. Go on to the camps, and serve my family there." The Etchemin looked toward the darkening bay, and around them at those thickening hosts of invisible terrors which are yet dreaded by more enlightened minds than hers. "No," responded the princess, "I am not afraid. Go on to the camps while you have the courage to be abroad alone."