s
were burning. The priest's grave eyes did not change expression at all,
but looked out wisely, as though he understood everything before it was
told.

Bagot continued: "I didn't notice it, but she had put some flowers
there. She said something with an edge, her face all snapping angry,
threw the things down, and called me a heathen and a wicked heretic--and
I don't say now but she'd a right to do it. But I let out then, for them
stolen pelts were rasping me on the raw. I said something pretty rough,
and made as if I was goin' to break her in two--just fetched up my
hands, and went like this!--" With a singular simplicity he made a wild
gesture with his hands, and an animal-like snarl came from his throat.
Then he looked at the priest with the honest intensity of a boy.

"Yes, that is what you did--what was it you said which was 'pretty
rough'?"

There was a slight hesitation, then came the reply: "I said there was
enough powder spilt on the floor to kill all the priests in heaven."

A fire suddenly shot up into Father Corraine's face, and his lips
tightened for an instant, but presently he was as before, and he said:

"How that will face you one day, Bagot! Go on. What else?"

Sweat began to break out on Bagot's face, and he spoke as though he were
carrying a heavy weight on his shoulders, low and brokenly.

"Then I said, 'And if virgins has it so fine, why didn't you stay one?'"

"Blasphemer!" said 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 hav