Chrissy was at a loss to understand why he had suddenly lost all interest in the studies and seemed preoccupied with other thoughts. She was beginning to grow discouraged, and was sorely tempted to abandon any further attempts at instruction, when Machecawa suddenly left her one morning as she sat by the table with the open book, and, approaching his white brother, said, in broken English: "Father, I love your daughter," pointing his forefinger at Abbie. "Will you give her to me that the small roots of her heart may entwine themselves with mine so that the strongest wind that blows may never separate them?" For a moment there was silence in the room. The White Chief's face grew dark. The veins of his temples began to swell with rage. In a burst of passion he said: "My child become your slave? _Never! Never!_ The Indian wants woman to gather his wood, carry his burdens, dress his skins, make his clothes, build his house, cook his food, care for his children. No, no, Machecawa; no white woman would be happy to work like a squaw or to suffer as such." Not a word could the Big Chief utter. He gave a deep sigh and gazed at Abbie fondly and admiringly. The inexpressible agony in his face touched the father's heart, and he added: "My daughter is too young to marry, but when she is old enough to know her own mind she may answer for herself." A ray of light and hope crept into the dark face, and drawing from a pouch a string of claws and teeth of rare birds and animals, he approached Abbie and fastened it about her snowy neck. "You have conferred upon me a great honor, Machecawa," said Abbie, smiling, "but you shall have to wait for several years, for I have many things to learn before I could become the squaw of an Algonquin chief." The chief then resumed his seat at the table and went on with his task with as much complacency as though nothing had happened, while Abbie and her brothers quietly withdrew in order to give vent to their feelings. CHAPTER V. _CHRISSY._ 1804. As the settlement did not afford any greater educational advantages than Mrs. Wright, with a multitude of other claims upon her time, was able to give to her daughters, Chrissy and Abbie were sent to a convent in Quebec, there being no other boarding-schools in Canada at this time. Among their school friends was Sally Smith, whose mother invited them to spend Christmas with them at the officers' quarters at the Citadel. "Just fancy!" said Mrs. Smith, addressing her husband, the Colonel, and his guest, a young Scotchman, as the girls entered the dining-room. "Shut up in a convent for sixteen months with nothing to vary the monotony of it! Do they not deserve a holiday?"