FORT LA JOYE AND MICMAC TALES 59

itself to me, which I, disdaining, gave over to death. After fifty years full of repentance and pain I come to abide eternally with you.’ He sank back on the couch.

“‘Medardus is dead,’ said the friar. ‘Go to your matins, brother, judge ye not. ’ ”

The little Indian girl with her dark wistful eyes was silent still. Then she went off to her lowly Micmac home while I went along the shore to the Rocky Point ferry. Out . . . out we swung into the harbour. Was it a delusion or was there a sad, sweet melody hanging in the air? It may be only my imagination . . . but the melody of a song I have never heard is haunting me still.