"Why have so many letters remained unanswered?" she mused. "He seemed almost overwhelmed with emotion when we parted. I feel convinced that nothing but my father's presence prevented him from pouring forth a passionate farewell. His hand trembled as it touched mine. How tender, how embarrassed he seemed when he attempted to express his last words. Why, oh! why does he not write?" Disappointment was overshadowing her life. She was not aware that her father had rejected him as a suitor, and there had stolen into her mind solemn wonderings and hopes that sometime, somewhere, the deepest longings of her heart might be realized. She had nothing against Harold Wrenford. On the contrary, she saw much in him to admire. His English voice and manner reminded her in many ways of Randall's. Notwithstanding his unpopularity with the neighbors and her brothers, her soft heart and susceptible spirit were well calculated to respond to the slight ebullitions of tender regard which he had on several occasions ventured to manifest, but which she ever resented. Wrenford held to his purpose, unsuspected and unaided, with as much tenacity as Abbie held to hers. CHAPTER X. _TOBACCO OFFERINGS._ 1808. It was a beautiful moonlight evening in August. A shadowy haze lingered over the river, which glistened and sparkled in the moonlight. The Chief and several members of his family were seated on the beach in front of the Wigwam listening to the Honorable Joseph Papineau, who, with his son, Louis Joseph, had come up in a canoe to see the falls. The former had recently purchased from Bishop Laval the unsettled seigniory of Petit Nation, and had erected an unpretentious cottage, which he occupied during the summer months. [Illustration: HON. LOUIS JOSEPH PAPINEAU AND MADAME PAPINEAU. From Morgan's "Types of Canadian Women" (copyright, 1903), by permission.] "It was a lovely vision," said Mr. Papineau, who had just performed the feat of canoeing to the foot of the Chaudiere Falls for the first time. "On our return we climbed the rugged cliff on the south side, and never shall I forget the panorama that spread out before us. The sun, sinking slowly behind the Laurentian hills, had clothed himself with a robe of splendor. The long reflections lay soft on the waters of the river below. The clouds of ascending mist from the Chaudiere took a thousand shades of color as the western sky faded slowly from crimson into gold and from gold to green and gray, and finally displayed dark shapes, out of which imagination might well have formed a thousand monsters.* * Louis Joseph, afterwards known as the Demosthenes of Canada, and who almost succeeded in making Canada a Republic, with himself as President, was evidently much impressed with the scene, which he described as follows: "Le soleil etait pret decendre sous l'horison, la mureille tout limpide etait d'une transparence vivre, tout penetree de lumiere vaguement prismatiseé."