The Going of the White Swan | Page 7

shot, blankets and beads. He said no."
The priest paused. Bagot's face was all swimming with sweat, his body
was rigid, but the veins of his neck knotted and twisted.
"For the love of God go on!" he said hoarsely.

"Yes, for the love of God. I have no money, I am poor, but the
Company will always honor my orders, for I pay sometimes by the help
of le bon Jésu. Well, I added some things to the list: a saddle, a rifle,
and some flannel. But no, he would not. Once more I put many things
down. It was a big bill--it would keep me poor for five years. To save
your wife, John Bagot, you who drove her from your door,
blaspheming and railing at such as I.... I offered the things, and told
him that was all I could give. After a little he shook his head, and said
that he must have the woman for his wife. I did not know what to add. I
said, 'She is white, and the white people will never rest till they have
killed you all, if you do this thing. The Company will track you down.'
Then he said, 'The whites must catch me and fight me before they kill
me.'... What was there to do?"
Bagot came near to the priest, bending over him savagely:
"You let her stay with them--you, with hands like a man!"
"Hush," was the calm, reproving answer. "I was one man, they were
twenty."
"Where was your God to help you, then?"
"Her God and mine was with me."
Bagot's eyes blazed. "Why didn't you offer rum--rum? They'd have
done it for that--one--five--ten kegs of rum!"
He swayed to and fro in his excitement, yet their voices hardly rose
above a hoarse whisper all the time.
"You forget," answered the priest, "that it is against the law, and that as
a priest of my order I am vowed to give no rum to an Indian."
"A vow! A vow! Son of God! what is a vow beside a woman--my
wife?"
His misery and his rage were pitiful to see.

"Perjure my soul! Offer rum! Break my vow in the face of the enemies
of God's Church! What have you done for me that I should do this for
you, John Bagot?"
"Coward!" was the man's despairing cry, with a sudden threatening
movement. "Christ himself would have broke a vow to save her."
The grave, kind eyes of the priest met the other's fierce gaze, and
quieted the wild storm that was about to break.
"Who am I that I should teach my Master?" he said, solemnly. "What
would you give Christ, Bagot, if He had saved her to you?"
The man shook with grief, and tears rushed from his eyes, so suddenly
and fully had a new emotion passed through him.
"Give--give!" he cried, "I would give twenty years of my life!"
The figure of the priest stretched up with gentle grandeur. Holding out
the iron crucifix, he said: "On your knees and swear it, John Bagot!"
There was something inspiring, commanding, in the voice and manner,
and Bagot, with a new hope rushing through his veins, knelt and
repeated his words.
The priest turned to the door, and called, "Madame Lucette!"
The boy, hearing, waked, and sat up in bed suddenly.
"Mother! mother!" he cried, as the door flew open.
The mother came to her husband's arms, laughing and weeping, and an
instant afterwards was pouring out her love and anxiety over her child.
Father Corraine now faced the man, and with a soft exaltation of voice
and manner said:
"John Bagot, in the name of Christ, I demand twenty years of your
life--of love and obedience of God. I broke my vow; I perjured my soul;

I bought your wife with ten kegs of rum."
The tall hunter dropped again to his knees, and caught the priest's hand
to kiss it.
"No, no--this!" the priest said, and laid his iron crucifix against the
other's lips.
[Illustration]

[Illustration]
VII
Dominique's voice came clearly through the room:
"Mother, I saw the white swan fly away through the door when you
came in."
"My dear, my dear," she said, "there was no white swan." But she
clasped the boy to her breast protectingly, and whispered an ave.
"Peace be to this house," said the voice of the priest.
And there was peace--for the child lived, and the man has loved, and
has kept his vow, even unto this day.
For the visions of the boy, who can know the divers ways in which God
speaks to the children of men!
THE END

NOVELS BY SIR GILBERT PARKER
The Going of the White Swan The Seats of the Mighty The Trail of the
Sword The