"God has listened to us, Anatole. Here is the thirty days' prayer to the Blessed Virgin. Let us begin it at once, and within a month we will get our desires."
Anatole, who had been born a Roman Catholic, had no doubts on the subject, so he kneeled beside her, and with the crucifix set up they repeated the prayer and silently expressed the wish—she, that they might receive the sanctification of her church before her baby came, he, that she might receive her wish.
After this she went about in a more contented state of mind, yet with an air of constant expectancy; she was praying with faith, and looking out for the reward with eager confidence.
"I shall get what I want, Anatole, I know," she repeated each night with feverish exultation, as she kissed and blessed him, her own true love, her husband, and the father of her coming child.
So she began to prepare for the coming event. The softest eider-down from the birds was gathered to make a warm nest and skins, beaten out and oiled so that they might be suitable for the situation. No squaw of the Indians ever worked harder than Eugene did over this work nor exercised more loving taste.
How she longed for a woman now to teach her what to do, for this was to be her first baby, and about the duties of maternity she was totally ignorant. How bitterly she blamed her own ignorance that seemed now to be so culpable, and the false civilisation that deputed to men what every woman ought to understand as soon as she has discernment, yet on this point also she tried to have faith and prayed fervently for help.
