The Going of the White Swan | Page 6

the priest in a stern, reproachful voice, his face
turning a little pale, and he brought the crucifix to his lips. "To the
mother of your child--shame! What more?"
"She threw up her hands to her ears with a wild cry, ran out of the
house, down the hills, and away. I went to the door and watched her as
long as I could see her, and waited for her to come back--but she never
did. I've hunted and hunted, but I can't find her." Then, with a sudden
thought, "Do you know anything of her, m'sieu'?"
The priest appeared not to hear the question. Turning for a moment
toward the boy, who now was in a deep sleep, he looked at him intently.
Presently he spoke.
"Ever since I married you and Lucette Barbond you have stood in the
way of her duty, Bagot. How well I remember that first day when you
knelt before me! Was ever so sweet and good a girl--with her golden
eyes and the look of summer in her face, and her heart all pure!
Nothing had spoiled her--you cannot spoil such women--God is in their
hearts. But you, what have you cared? One day you would fondle her,

and the next you were a savage--and she, so gentle, so gentle all the
time. Then, for her religion and the faith of her child--she has fought
for it, prayed for it, suffered for it. You thought you had no need of
religion, for you had so much happiness, which you did not
deserve--that was it. But she--with all a woman suffers, how can she
bear life--and man--without God? No, it is not possible. And you
thought you and your few superstitions were enough for her.--Ah, poor
fool! She should worship you! So selfish, so small, for a man who
knows in his heart how great God is. You did not love her."
"By the Heaven above, yes!" said Bagot, half starting to his feet.
"Ah, 'by the Heaven above,' no! nor the child. For true love is unselfish
and patient, and where it is the stronger, it cares for the weaker; but it
was your wife who was unselfish, patient, and cared for you. Every
time she said an ave she thought of you, and her every thanks to God
had you therein. They know you well in heaven, Bagot--through your
wife. Did you ever pray--ever since I married you to her?"
"Yes."
"When?"
"An hour or so ago."
Once again the priest's eyes glanced towards the lighted candles.

[Illustration]
VI
Presently he said: "You asked me if I had heard anything of your wife.
Listen, and be patient while you listen.... Three weeks ago I was
camping on the Sundust Plains, over against the Young Sky River. In
the morning, as I was lighting a fire outside my tent, my young Cree
Indian with me, I saw coming over the crest of a landwave, from the
very lips of the sunrise, as it were, a band of Indians. I could not quite

make them out. I hoisted my little flag on the tent, and they hurried on
to me. I did not know the tribe--they had come from near Hudson's Bay.
They spoke Chinook, and I could understand them. Well, as they came
near, I saw that they had a woman with them."
Bagot leaned forward, his body strained, every muscle tense. "A
woman!" he said, as if breathing gave him sorrow--"my wife?"
"Your wife."
"Quick! Quick! Go on--oh, go on, m'sieu'--good father."
"She fell at my feet, begging me to save her.... I waved her off."
The sweat dropped from Bagot's forehead, a low growl broke from him,
and he made such a motion as a lion might make at its prey.
"You wouldn't--wouldn't save her--you coward!" He ground the words
out.
The priest raised his palm against the other's violence. "Hush!... She
drew away, saying that God and man had deserted her.... We had
breakfast, the chief and I. Afterwards, when the chief had eaten much
and was in good humor, I asked him where he had got the woman. He
said that he had found her on the plains--she had lost her way. I told
him then that I wanted to buy her. He said to me. 'What does a priest
want of a woman?' I said that I wished to give her back to her husband.
He said that he had found her, and she was his, and that he would marry
her when they reached the great camp of the tribe. I was patient. It
would not do to make him angry. I wrote down on a piece of bark the
things that I would give him for her: an order on the Company at Fort o'
Sin for