They are those of that old French
Canadian song so familiar to all dwellers in the Province of Quebec:
"A la claire fontaine,
M'en allant promener,
J'ai trouve l'eau si belle
Que je me suis baigne.
Il y a longtemps que je t'aime
Jamais je ne t'oublierai."
The voice was tuneful, strong, and full and clear, though lacking in
cultivation. It was that of a girl, who was sitting under the shadow of
a large boulder on the beach. She seemed about eighteen, though, in the
uncertain wavering light of the sunset, it was impossible to distinguish
her features clearly.
Her gown was of simple pink cotton, and on her head she wore a large
peaked straw hat, which gave her a quaint old-world appearance.
Her brown hair had escaped from beneath this large head-gear, and blew
about in pretty, untidy curls round her neck and shoulders. In her hand
was a roll of music, which she had just brought from the church, where
she had been practising for the morrow's mass.
The girl was Marie Gourdon, only daughter of old Jean Baptiste Gourdon,
fisherman of Father Point.
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