Part 15 (1/2)
”Her G.o.d 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 hoa.r.s.e 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? Name of G.o.d! 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 G.o.d'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 pa.s.sed through him.
”Give--give?” he cried; ”I would give twenty years of my life!”
The figure of the priest stretched up with a 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 rus.h.i.+ng 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 G.o.d. 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.
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 G.o.d speaks to the children of men?
AT BAMBER'S BOOM
His trouble came upon him when he was old. To the hour of its coming he had been of shrewd and humourous disposition. He had married late in life, and his wife had died, leaving him one child--a girl. She grew to womanhood, bringing him daily joy. She was beloved in the settlement; and there was no one at Bamber's Boom, in the valley of the Madawaska, but was startled and sorry when it turned out that Dugard, the river-boss, was married. He floated away down the river, with his rafts and drives of logs, leaving the girl sick and shamed. They knew she was sick at heart, because she grew pale and silent; they did not know for some months how shamed she was. Then it was that Mrs. Lauder, the sister of the Roman Catholic missionary, Father Halen, being a woman of notable character and kindness, visited her and begged her to tell all.
Though the girl--Nora--was a Protestant, Mrs. Lauder did this: but it brought sore grief to her. At first she could hardly bear to look at the girl's face, it was so hopeless, so numb to the world: it had the indifference of despair. Rumour now became hateful fact. When the old man was told, he gave one great cry, then sat down, his hands pressed hard between his knees, his body trembling, his eyes staring before him.