The Saint Paul globe. (St. Paul, Minn.) 1896-1905, 1902-10-03

"I am Miss Livingstone" said the
white girl. fitting her pretty nose. my
father has 100000" she added. by
way of further explanation.
"And l." replied the dark skinned
one, "am Angelique de la Ronde. They
call me the Countess of the Nepigon,'
for my grandfather came from faraway
France"
The blue eyes opened very wide this
time, stared for moment into the
dark ones before them, then went down
in swift surrender to the certain calm
dignity which told more plainly than
any words that the blood Of the proud
est of old France still flowed In the
veins Of this girl whom Marion Liv-
ingstone has been pleased to term Fan
Indian" and that the spirit of the ref
ugee lived on in the heart of this, his
French and Indian daughter. 1t was
dignity, too, which made the other
girl wonder for the first time in all
her self important, well satisfied little
life if it were so great a thing, after all,
to be Miss Livingstone" and If there
might not be something in the world
even more to be desired than riches.
These two girls were standing on the
steps of rude, implanted building, the
Hudson Bay trading post, in the little
Indian village Of Nepigon. Marion
Livingstone had come here on her
fathers beautiful white yacht with
party of pleasure seekers to whom the
placid bay and quaint village were like
nothing SO much as mighty canvas
for some new and amusing moving
picture show. To Angelique de la
Ronde it was her little world-all the
world she had ever known-bounded by
the mountains she loved, the waters
whose tapping tide had been he- lula
by the blue sky over all! What Won
der that she hated, with all the fierce
hate Of her Indian mother, these smil-
ing, chattering white people who came
only to laugh and to peer curiously into
the corners made sacred by a hundred
memories Of childhood. What wonder
that she turned away, walking with the
grace of princess across the grass
grown common, which, with its single
footpath and few struggling white huts
on either side, did duty for the main
street.
Not once did she look backward. If
she had she could not have guessed the
reason for that slow blush which had
mounted to the fair cheeks and was
dyeing them scarlet at the thought Of
the altogether foolish and unnecessary
boast True, back there in the world
Of fashion, which had been the only
world Marion Livingstone had known,
81, 100000 seemed very great thing;
yet here, beneath the shadows Of the
eternal hills, wealth was forgotten in
the glories Of nature.
A tinid touch upon her arm aroused
her and Marion turned to greet the
kindly German governess, whom she
alternately coaxed and tyrann1zed into
complete submission to her every
within. Frau Helen had been standing
beside her, watching with very wide
blue eyes. Yet only now had she sum-
moned courage to demonstrate.
What would the father say were he
to see the Fraulein in conversation
with an indiana" she said in an aWed
whisper.
Marion laughed and carelessly an
swered, "Oh, these indians are very
peaceable. Frau Helen. Pm sure our
sealp-locks are quite safe. for there
isn't a tomahawk in sight"
Though the girl laughed and joked
as usual ell through the long, sunshiny
afternoon, yet she could not get that
face, beautiful in the dark and sp1ep-
did calm, out of her mind; turn which,
ever way she might, the dark eyes
were ever before her. UP and down the
single street she searched ya1nlX 3Qr