The American Bride - By Karla Darcy Page 0,19

you like me to show you how an Indian makes a fire?" Cara asked diplomatically.

"Oh, rather!"

Kneeling down in front of the fireplace Cara told him how to lay the fire, starting with kindling and building up to the larger logs. Soon Richard's coat was off and he was immersed in his project. Returning to her chair Cara noticed that Belin had entered, standing just inside the doorway, her hands behind her back.

"Oh, Belin, I'm glad you've come to join us." Cara kept her voice cheerful, although her heart sank at the sight of the filthy child. Like the night before, her dress was streaked and her hair tangled. Preparing herself for the fight to come, Cara sank onto the edge of the sofa cushion. "You'll have to come over here if you want to hear the story. Richard's working on a fire for us, so everything will be nice and cozy."

Rigidly the child approached until she stood directly in front of Cara. There were traces of tears on her cheeks and an inconsolable sadness in the brown eyes that shrank before Cara's glance. Slowly Belin withdrew her hands from behind her back and placed them in Cara's lap, then closed her eyes waiting for the inspection. As she looked down at the hands in her lap, Cara understood the root of Belin's rebellion.

Between each pudgy finger of both hands there was a tiny webbing of skin.

Pity made her reach out to Belin but she dropped her hands before she touched the child. Angrily Cara wondered why no one had told her about the slight deformity. It explained so much of the child's behavior. Schooling her voice to it's most matter-of-fact, she picked up the tiny cold hands in her own warm ones.

"Why they're perfectly clean, Belin." She had to smile. Belin had taken Cara at her word and had washed her hands in order to participate in the treats. But, only her hands. From the wrists up, water had not touched her body. "Here, I'll pour you some chocolate."

The child relaxed, her body sagging in her relief that Cara hadn't mentioned her hands. Cautiously she peeked up at her governess. Her face was a complex of fear and puzzlement. The fear won. Snatching her hands away from Cara, she waved them in front of her body. Her face was screwed up in agony, her body fairly vibrating with her agitation.

"Can't you see my hands?" Her eyes were wide open, spitting fire. "I'm a witch's spawn!"

Although her heart raced in fear, Cara answered calmly, knowing how important her actions were to the furious child. "Of course I saw your hands, Belin. I thought you just didn't want me to know your secret. But even in America we've heard of the sign of the Frog Princess." Then quickly while the child was still off balance, Cara hurried on. "Sit down, Belin. Richard's got the fire going now and as soon as we get some chocolate I'll tell you about it. I'm sure you've been told the story a hundred times but perhaps Richard hasn't heard it."

Ignoring the spluttering child, Cara busied herself handing around the chocolate and cakes. She complimented Richard on the fire. His face flushed with pride as he sipped the hot chocolate. Belin sat on the edge of her chair, clutching her cup in an agony of suspense. Cara reseated herself and began her story. Both children's eyes were fixed on her face.

"You see, a long, long time ago a king had a beautiful daughter who was in love with a handsome prince. He lived across a huge body of water. One day she wanted to see him and there were no boats to take her across the water. A wicked wizard told her he would change her into a frog so that she could swim across." Cara noticed that although Belin was absorbed in the fairy tale, her body was taut with tension. "Delighted with the clever plan, the princess let him turn her into a frog. In the twinkling of an eye she swam to the other side. But the wizard had tricked her and she did not change back into a princess. She remained a frog. The prince married someone else when he thought he had lost his true love. So every night the frog princess sat on a lily pad and cried. Even today on certain nights you can hear her cry."

"But what's that got to do with my hands?" Belin wailed.

"As you probably know,