If--if you had a sister or mother you"d--you"d probably be kind to them. What--what do you think of it yourself, honestly? A--a girl, who"s a fool, of course, but after all just a girl, is dying of loneliness and misery in a big city. She--she can"t stand it any more, not--not for another day. And then she finds that paper and like--like an utter fool she answers that advertis.e.m.e.nt. It--it looked like a bare chance of--of being able to keep body and soul together, and--and remain honest and decent, which--which is a hard enough thing for a girl to do, in--in some places. And then the man answers back. She--I never expected he would, but he did, and he offered all sorts of wonderful things that--that looked like heaven itself to--to a hungry failure of a girl to whom life had become too heavy a burden to bear.
And--and so she answers that letter and--and tries to tell the truth about herself, and says that--that she is prepared to carry out her part of the bargain if--if the man has spoken truly of himself--if--if he can respect her--treat her like a woman who--who is ready to do her best to--to deserve a little kindness and consideration. And he tells her again to come--to come as soon as possible, and--and there was nothing to detain her for a moment. The city had been too cruel--too utterly cruel. And then she comes here and finds that--that it was all lies--wicked lies--I"m sorry, it"s the only word I can use."
Hugo was staring at her, open-mouthed, but before he could utter a word she began again:
"The man had never meant it, of course--he wasn"t awaiting her at all, as he had promised--and when she finally comes to him he speaks coldly, cynically, denying his words, pretending he knows nothing.
It--it"s a rather clumsy way of getting out of it, seems to me. Anyway he saw that his joke had been carried too far. It--it hasn"t proved such a very good one, has it? It--it has turned out to be pretty poor fun. I--I dare say I deserve it all. It--it was awful folly on my part, I see it now, and--and I"m ashamed, dreadfully ashamed--I feel the redness mounting to--to the very roots of my hair--and it overwhelms me. Don"t--don"t you feel something of--of the same sort, or--or do you still think the joke was a good one?"
She had grown rather excited and it was quite true that a deep blush was now mantling her face. In her halting speech--in the words that had come slowly at first, and then had flowed more rapidly, there had been wounded pride beside the deep resentment and the pain.
"Do--do you really believe such a thing?" answered the man, wincing again. "You speak of something that is an abomination, that would stink in a decent man"s nostrils. And--and you speak of shame! Do you think such a word could express all that a man would be overwhelmed with if he had done such a thing? Great Heavens! Miss Nelson, a man having once committed such a crime would be humiliated for the rest of his life, it seems to me. It would be an unpardonable sin for which there could be no forgiveness, none surely on the part of the woman, and none that the man could ever grant himself. It--it surely isn"t possible that any such thing has occurred, that any man could so lower himself beneath all the dirt that his feet have ever trodden."
He spoke strongly, his face now also high in color, his voice tremulous and indignant, his hard right fist clenched till the arm vibrated with the strain.
Madge looked at him again. For a moment his tone had been convincing and she had nearly believed that he spoke the truth. But the evidence against him was too strong.
"That--that big Stefan, your friend, the man who says that you saved his life, knew that I was coming," she faltered, her voice shaking while her body felt limp with the infinite discouragement that had returned to her in full. "He brought you my message, at least he told me so. What--what is the use of my saying anything more? I--I think we might as well be going on, if--if you and your dog are rested. He--he looks like a decent fellow, Maigan does. There are things a dog wouldn"t do, I"m sure."
"Miss Nelson, as G.o.d is my judge, I"m guiltless in this matter," the man"s voice rang out.
"Go on, Maigan, mush on!" he called, and leaned forward on the rope, pa.s.sed over one shoulder. Her last words had brought a moment of anger and indignation. Save for the few words he had uttered he felt it useless to protest his innocence, and the notion of her insanity returned to him, strongly. But those were strange things she had said about Stefan and that message. As soon as possible he would go over to Carcajou and interview his friend the Swede. The girl"s disordered mind must have distorted something that he said. He began to wonder whether there was any truth at all about her story, whether she really came from New York, whether she was not some poor creature escaped from some place for the care of the insane. But then how had she got hold of his name and how had she ever heard of Roaring River? The more he puzzled over these problems the more tangled they appeared to be.
"I dare say I"ll find out about it soon enough," he told himself, impatiently, for the pain he suffered began to grow worse with every step, and an unaccountable weariness had come over him. That thing on his shoulder must be a mere scratch, he tried to persuade himself, in spite of the sharp pangs it gave him. Manlike he grew more obstinate as his strength began to fail, and pulled harder, with the sweat now running down his clammy forehead and freezing on his face.
Maigan, also, was bending hard to his task, and they went along steadily and rapidly. The toboggan was crackling and slithering over the snow upon which the dark indigo shadows were throwing uncanny designs. The track was smooth and level now and the dog could manage very well alone, so that Hugo pulled no longer. Once, as he chanced to stumble, the girl thought she heard a groan from him. She began to wish that she had been able to believe him, but it was utterly impossible, although she suddenly found it in her heart to pity him, to extenuate the abomination of his conduct. Why that last sacrilegious lie he had uttered? The man was suffering; it looked as if the iron were entering his soul. Oh! the pity of it!
If he had only acknowledged his offence and begged her pardon she might perhaps have forgiven. A moment later, however, the grim outlook before her presented itself again. There were two things for her to choose from; one was that fitly named Roaring River along whose bank the road wound its snaky trail and the other consisted in the cheap little pistol in her bag. Well, there might be comfort after all in this wild land, upon the scented fallen needles of the pines or under that pure white ice. Her features, which for a moment had become stony and hard, now softened again.
It was best to endeavor to harbor no more thoughts of contempt and hatred when one"s own soul might soon be suing for forgiveness.
They topped another rise of ground beyond which there was a hollow, a tiny valley nestled among great firs and poplars and birches. In the middle of it Madge saw another and much larger shack. It might really have been called a house, but for its being made of logs. A film of smoke was rising straight up in the still air, from a chimney built of rough stones, and some dogs began to bark loudly. A woman came out, with a child hanging to her skirts, and shaded her eyes with her hand while she scolded the animals, who slunk away slowly.
"_Bonjour_," she called out, cheerfully. "Ah! It is Monsieur Hugo! How you do, sare? Glad for see you! Come along quick. It ees cole again, terrible cole."
For a second she stared at the young woman on the toboggan, but her civility came at once uppermost and she smiled pleasantly, and rushed up to help Madge arise, brushing off some of the snow that had fallen on her from the trees.
"Come inside quick. I have it good hot in de house. You all perished wid dat cole, Mees. Now you get varm again and I make tea _tout de suite_."
She had seized Madge"s hands in her own big and capable ones, with the never-failing hospitality and friendliness of the wilderness, and led her indoors at once. Hugo let Maigan loose, with a word of warning, for the other dogs had begun to circle about him jealously, and growled a little, probably for the sake of form, for they took good care to keep out of reach of his long fangs. They had tried him once before and knew that he was their master. Hugo, thankful that the journey was ended, took up the girl"s bag and followed her into the house, after he had taken off his snowshoes, a job he accomplished with some difficulty.
"Mrs. Papineau," he began, "this young lady came over to my place, a couple of hours ago, and--and there"s been some--some mistake. She thought there was a village here, I believe. She only expects to remain with you till to-morrow, I think, and till then I will be ever so grateful if you will make her as comfortable as possible. I"m afraid she"s dreadfully tired and cold. I expect to return in the morning to take her back to Carcajou, unless--unless she would prefer to rest a day or two here."
"Ver "appy to see de lady," declared Mrs. Papineau, heartily. "Tak"
off you coat, Monsieur Hugo, an" sit here by de fire. Hey! Baptiste, you bring more big piece of birch. Colette, put kettle on for bile water qvick. Tak" dis seat, lady. I pull off dem blanket. You no need dem more. Turriple cole now. Las" night we "ear de wolfs "untin" along dem "ardwood ridges, back of de river; it ees always sign of big cole.
And de river she crack awful, and de trees dey split like guns shoot.
Glad you come an" get varm, Mees."
Madge looked about her, after she had smiled at the woman in thanks.
For the second time that day she had entered a home of kindly and well-disposed people that seemed to be built of an altogether different clay from that which composed the folk of the big city. In Stefan"s home the atmosphere had been gentle, one of earnest, quiet toil, with the simple accompaniment of a kindly religious belief according to the Lutheran persuasion. In the dwelling she had now entered, of fervent French Canadians, she noted the vivid chromo of a departed pope facing the still gaudier representation of the British Royal family, if the printed legend could be believed. They were shown in all the colors of the rainbow, as were also some saints whose glaring portraits hung on either side of the door, surmounted by dried palms reminiscent of Easter festivals. There seemed to be any number of children, from an infant lying in a homemade cradle of boards, one of which displayed an advertis.e.m.e.nt of soap, to a bashful youth who looked at Hugo as if he worshipped him and a freckled, gawky and friendly-faced girl of fifteen who stood around, evidently delighted to see people and anxious to be civil to them.
And this welcome she had received seemed to be characteristic of all these folks living in the back of beyond. Everywhere she had met friendliness; people had seemed actually eager to help; they smiled as if life had been a thing of joy in which the good things must be distributed far and near and enjoyed by all. They seemed ready to share their possessions with strangers that chanced within their gates. It was a spirit intensely restful, consoling, bringing peace to one"s heart. It gave the girl a brief vision of something that was heavenly. She felt that she could so easily have made her home in this amazing region that opened its arms and actually welcomed new faces.
But the thought came to her that she had only been vouchsafed a fleeting glance at it and to gaze, as Moses did of old, upon a Promised Land she could never really enter.
"It is no need for to h"ask, Monsieur Hugo," Madge heard the woman saying. "Ve do h"all ve can, sure! It ees a gladness to see de yong lady an" heem pretty face, all red vid de cole. Come by de fire, mees.
Celestine "ere she pull aff your beeg Dutch stockin". Dey no belong you, sure. Colette, push heem chair near for de lady. Hippolyte, put couple steeks now on ze fire. Mees, I "ope you mak" yourself to home now. Monsieur Hugo, you stop for to h"eat a bite vid us. Ve haf" in de shed still one big quarter from de _orignal_, de beeg mose vat my man he shoot two veeks ago. Und dere pleanty _patates_, pleanty pork, all you vant."
"No, thank you ever so much, I--I think I"d better be going. It will be dark pretty soon. I know perfectly well that you will take excellent care of Miss Nelson and so I think I"ll say good-by now."
Some of the children trooped around him, disappointed, and Mrs.
Papineau came nearer, eying him curiously. Suddenly her keen eyes caught something and she pointed with a finger.
"Vat de mattaire vid you h"arm?" she asked, excitedly. ""Ow you get "urted?"
"Oh! That! That"s nothing," he answered, drawing back. ""Tisn"t worth bothering about. Good-night!"
"You no be one beeg fool, Monsieur Hugo!" she ordered him, masterfully.
"Now you sit down an" let me look heem arm right avay quick. Ven de cole strike heem he get bad sure, dat h"arm."
In spite of his objections she laid violent hands on him, insisting on pulling off his coat, whereupon a dark patch had spread. She also drew off the heavy sweater he wore underneath it, which was stained even more deeply. When she sought to roll up the sleeve of his flannel shirt it would not go up high enough, but the remedy was close at hand, in the form of a pair of scissors, and she swiftly ripped up a seam. On the outer part of the shoulder she revealed a rather large and jagged wound that was all smeared with blood, which still oozed from it slowly.
"Who go an" shoot you?" she asked angrily. "I see de "ole in de coat an" de sweater. I know some one shoot. Vat for he shoot?"
"Well, it was just a silly little accident with a pistol," he acknowledged with much embarra.s.sment. "It--it won"t be anything after it"s washed off. It feels all right enough and I wish you wouldn"t bother about it. I"ll attend to it after I get home. It--it"s stopped hurting now."
But he was compelled to submit to the washing of his injury and to the application of some sort of a dressing which Mrs. Papineau appeared to put on rather skilfully. Wounds of all sorts are but too common in the wilderness, unfortunately, and doctors few and far between. The children had crowded around him, looking in awe, and their mother kept ordering them away. Madge had risen from her seat and looked at the injury, horrified and trembling. The man had never said a word when that bullet had found its billet in his shoulder, and yet it must have hurt him dreadfully. He--he might have been killed, owing to her clumsiness, she reflected in consternation. And now he said nothing to explain how it had happened--he actually seemed to be trying to shield her.
"I--I"m dreadfully sorry," said the girl, impulsively. "It--it was all my fault, because I let the revolver fall and it went off. But I didn"t know he was hurt. He never told me, and he insisted on pulling at that sled, with his dog."
"Yes, it was just a little accident," admitted Hugo, "and we"re making altogether too much fuss about it. It really doesn"t amount to anything, Miss Nelson, and it feels splendidly now. I"m ever so much obliged to you, Mrs. Papineau. And so I"ll say good-night. I hope you"ll rest well, Miss Nelson. I"ll be here in good time to-morrow, never fear."
He shook hands with the housewife, who took care to wipe her own upon her ap.r.o.n in preparation for the ceremony. To the children he bade a comprehensive farewell, after which he turned again to Madge, advanced a step and then hesitated. He had doubtless meant to shake hands with her also but, at the last moment, probably feared a rebuff. At any rate he nodded, bringing a smile to his features, and opened the door into the bitter cold. After he had put on his snowshoes again and hitched up Maigan to the toboggan he disappeared into the darkness.
For an instant Madge listened, but she heard no sound. Everything was still outside, but for the rare crackings of ice and timber. Seeking her chair again she leaned forward now with her elbows resting on her knees and her face held in the hollow of her hands. At this time a little child came to her and touched her arm. She looked at it. The little girl had long straight black hair, great beady eyes and the prettiest mouth imaginable. The cheeks were like red apples. She lifted the little thing to her knees and the child nestled against her bosom. Madge now looked at the woman, busily engaged with her few pots and pans, and a feeling of envy came to her, a longing for the sweet and kindly motherhood that was becoming a fierce craving for that beautiful peace which appeared to have become so firmly established in these little houses of the frozen wilds. She had elsewhere seen love of children, little ones petted and made much of, husbands coming home to a cheery welcome, but it had not seemed the same. The women so often seemed weary, pale, and worked beyond their strength. Most of them became querulous at times, apt to speak loudly of intolerable wrongs or of ill-doings of neighbors across the dark hallways. Here it looked as if quiet order, cheerful obedience, willingness on the part of all, were ingrained in the people. Indeed, it was ever so different.
By this time the rough table was set and Mrs. Papineau deplored the fact that Hugo had not consented to remain.
"Heem is "urted more as vat he tink," she confided to the girl.
"To-morrow somebody go to de leetle shack an" fin" "ow he is. One dog heem not much nurse, eh?"
These words made Madge feel uncomfortable. Once or twice the idea had come to her that such a man ought to be punished, that he should be made to suffer, that he deserved anything that could make him realize how heinous his conduct had been. But now she had a vague impression that she was sorry for him, that it was on her account that he had refused to stay and had gone out at once in the gathering darkness that had come so swiftly. But in spite of these thoughts and of all the emotions she had undergone Madge felt again the besetting pangs of fierce hunger. The slices of moose-meat sizzling in the pan filled the place with appetizing odor. The mother placed her brood at the long table but helped her guest first, and plentifully. How these people ate and expected others to eat! Never could they have heard of the scanty meals of working girls, of the cups of blue milk, of bitter tea, or of the little rolls and bits of meat purchased at so-called delicatessen stores. The girl ate hungrily and the meal was soon over, but as soon as it was finished the terrible weariness came upon her again and she was thankful to lie down upon a hard mattress of ticking filled with the aromatic twigs of balsam fir, beneath heavy blankets and a wonderful robe of hareskins.
Before she could fall asleep, however, the experiences of her crowded day pa.s.sed weirdly before her eyes; yet her despair seemed to be contending with a strange feeling that was certainly not hope. It was perhaps merely a weak acquiescence to conditions that her immense fatigue and wearied brain made her accept, dully, stupidly, since she had lost all power of resistance. It was something like the enforced peace of a wounded thing that has just been able to crawl back into its burrow and has found the rest its body craves for.
In the midst of so large a family one could not aspire to the lone possession of a bed. The little girl she had held in her lap had been placed beside her, not without many apologies from Mrs. Papineau. In the darkness she could feel the little warm body nestling against her, and hear the soft and regular breathing. It was comforting since it brought a feeling that the little one protected her, in some strange way, and was leading her in paths of darkness with a little warm hand and a heart that was unafraid and confident of the morrow"s shining sun. Very soon there came a restless sleep which at first was filled with uncanny visions, from which she awakened once or twice in fear.
But at last came entire surcease from suffering as the brain that had been overwrought ceased to toil.
In the meanwhile Hugo had slowly made his way back to his shack. If his arm hurt he had now little consciousness of it. The thing that disturbed him most was that girl"s unshakable belief in his villainy.
Was she really insane? He had had no opportunity to communicate that thought to Mrs. Papineau. But then, after her arrival, she had seemed so absolutely rational in all that she had said and done that the idea had, for the time being, pa.s.sed away from his mind. And what if, at least in part, she had spoken the truth? What if some amazing distortion of reality had truly and honestly given her these beliefs, through evidence that must be all against him? The words she had spoken before starting for the Papineaus", and the further ones uttered on the tote-road, while he rested, held a drama so poignant that it struck a chill to his heart. She might, after all, have been speaking the truth as she had been misled into believing it! But then there must be some amazing conspiracy at work, some foul doings whose objects utterly escaped him and which left him staring at the little lamp now burning on his table, as if it might perhaps have revealed some key to the amazing problem.
Was it possible that a weak and slender woman could actually be compelled to carry on a fight against hunger and illness, with never a friend on earth, until she was finally so beaten down to the ground that her soul cried in agony for relief? According to her she had seized upon the only resource open to her, in which there was but a dim outlook towards safety. Then she had found herself the victim of a h.e.l.lish jest, apparently, or of a conspiracy so base that one sickened at the mere thought of it. There was no doubt that those big eyes of the suffering woman haunted the man, while the accents of her despair still rang in his ears and distressed him. The expression of the crucified had been on that pale face of hers, which had reddened so deeply when a sense of shame had overwhelmed her. It was as if he had beheld a drowning woman and been utterly prevented from extending a saving hand to her. More strongly he began to feel that some one had surely sinned against that woman, and feelings of vengefulness, none the less bitter for all their vagueness, began to obsess him.
Once, on his way back from Papineau"s, Maigan had pressed close to him, as if for safety. From the great hardwood ridges of his right he had heard a long and familiar sound. It was the one the Frenchwoman had mentioned, the fitful baying of wolves on the track of a deer.
Picturing to himself the overtaking and pulling down of the victim, he shivered, hardened though he was to the unending tragedies of the wilderness, and hurried along faster, although he knew he stood in no danger.