Part 28 (1/2)

CHAPTER XXVI

TEMPTATION

That night, leaving Thornton still at supper in the little old Windsor Hotel, Jan slipped away, and with Kazan at his heels, crossed the frozen Saskatchewan to the spruce forest on the north sh.o.r.e. He wanted to be alone, to think, to fight with himself against a desire which was almost overpowering him. Once, long ago, he had laid his soul bare to Jean de Gravois, and Jean had given him comfort. To-night he longed to go to Thornton, as he had gone to Jean, and to tell him the same story, and what had pa.s.sed that day in the office of the sub-commissioner. In his heart there had grown something for Thornton that was stronger than friends.h.i.+p--something that would have made him fight for him, and die for him, as he would have fought and died for Jean de Gravois. It was a feeling cemented by a belief that something was troubling Thornton--that he, too, was filled with a loneliness and a grief which he was trying to conceal. And yet he fought to restrain himself from confiding in his new friend. It would do no good, he knew, except by relieving him of a part of his mental burden. He walked along the sh.o.r.e of the river and recrossed it again near the company's offices. All were dark with the exception of the sub-commissioner's room. In that there glowed a light. The sub-commissioner was keeping his promise. He was working. He worked until late, for Jan came back two hours after and saw the light still there.

A week--it might be ten days, the sub-commissioner had told him, and it would be over. Always something in the north drew Jan's eyes, and he looked there now, wondering what would happen to him after that week was over.

Lights were out and people were in bed when he and Kazan returned to the hotel. But Thornton was up, sitting by himself in the gloom, as Jan had first seen him at Le Pas. Jan sat down beside him. There was an uneasy tremor in Thornton's voice when he said:

”Jan, did you ever love a woman--love her until you were ready and willing to die for her?”

The suddenness of the question wrung the truth from Jan's lips in a low, choking voice. For an instant he thought that Thornton must have guessed his secret.

”Yes, m'sieur.”

Thornton leaned toward him, gripping his knees, and the misery in his face was deeper than Jan had ever seen it before.

”I love a woman--like that,” he went on tensely. ”A girl--not a woman, and she is one of your people, Jan--of the north, as innocent as a flower, more beautiful to ME than--than all the women I have ever seen before. She is at Oxford House. I am going home to--to save myself.”

”Save yourself!” cried Jan. ”Mon Dieu, m'sieur--does she not love you?”

”She would follow me to the end of the earth!”

”Then--”

Thornton straightened himself and wiped his pale face. Suddenly he rose to his feet and motioned for Jan to follow him. He walked swiftly out into the night, and still faster after that, until they pa.s.sed beyond the town. From where he stopped they could look over the forests far into the pale light of the south.

”THAT'S h.e.l.l for me!” said Thornton, pointing. ”It's what we call civilization--but it's mostly h.e.l.l, and it's all h.e.l.l for me. It's a h.e.l.l of big cities, of strife, of blood-letting, of wickedness. I never knew how great a h.e.l.l it was until I came up here--among YOU. I wish to G.o.d I could stay--always!”

”You love her,” breathed Jan. ”You can stay.”

”I can't,” groaned Thornton. ”I can't--unless--”

”What, m'sieur?”

”Unless I lose everything--but her.”

Jan's fingers trembled as they sought Thornton's hand.

”And everything is--is--nothing when you give it for love and happiness,” he urged. ”The great G.o.d, I know--”

”Everything,” cried Thornton. ”Don't you understand? I said EVERYTHING!” He turned almost fiercely upon his companion. ”I'd give up my name--for HER. I'd bury myself back there in the forests and never go out of them--for HER. I'd give up fortune, friends, lose myself for ever--for HER. But I can't. Good G.o.d, don't you understand?”

Jan stared. His eyes grew large and dark.

”I've spent ten years of WORSE than h.e.l.l down there--with a woman,”

went on Thornton. ”It happens among us--frequently, this sort of h.e.l.l.

I came up here to get out of it for a time. You know--now. There is a woman down there who--who is my wife. She would be glad if I never returned. She is happy now, when I am away, and I have been happy--for a time. I know what love is. I have felt it. I have lived it. G.o.d forgive me, but I am almost tempted to go back--to HER!”

He stopped at the change which had come in Jan, who stood as straight and as still as the blank spruce behind them, with only his eyes showing that there was life in him. Those eyes held Thornton's. They burned upon him through the gray gloom as he had never seen human eyes burn before. He waited, half startled, and Jan spoke. In his voice there was nothing of that which Thornton saw in his eyes. It was low, and soft, and though it had that which rung like steel, Thornton could not have understood or feared it more.