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.