It had been a terrible shock to find the Baron de St.Castin fallen away from religion and civilisation, living in savage pomp with his savage wives, the daughters of the great chief Modocawando.

There could be no such companionship as this for the Sieur d'Arthenay and his noble wife; the friendship of half a lifetime was sternly repudiated, and d'Arthenay cast in his lot with the little band of Huguenot settlers who were striving to win their livelihood from the rugged soil of eastern Maine.
It was bitter bread that they ate, those French settlers.

We read the story again and again, each time with a fresh pang of pity and regret; but it is not of them that this tale is told.

Jacques d'Arthenay died in his wilderness, and his wife followed him quickly, leaving a son to carry on the name.

The gravestone of these first d'Arthenays was still to be seen in the old burying-ground: they had been the first to be buried there.