ing doubted that the heart of Julie Breton went with
it when they saw the light in her dark eyes as she bade the handsome
Wallace good-bye.

It was an open secret now, communicated by Wallace to the factor, that
he was to become a Catholic that autumn, and in June take Julie Breton
as a bride away to East Main.

* * * * *

During the tense days when the fever heightened and the life of Jean
Marcel hung on the turn of a leaf, there had been no repetition of the
visit of Fleur to the sick room. But so loudly did she wail her
complaint at her enforced absence from the man battling for his life, so
near in the Mission house, that it was necessary to confine her with her
puppies at a distance.

Once again conscious of his surroundings and rapidly gaining strength,
Marcel insisted on seeing his dog. So, daily, under watchful guard,
Fleur was taken into the room, often with a clumsy puppy, round and
fluffy, who alternately nibbled with needle-pointed milk-teeth at Jean's
extended hand, making a great to-do of snarling in mock anger, or
rolled squealing on its back on the floor, while Fleur sprawled
contentedly by the cot, tail beating the floor, love in her slant eyes
for the master who now had found his voice, whose face once more shone
with the old smile, which was her life.

CHAPTER XXXIII

RENUNCIATION

August drew to a close. The post clearing and the beach at Whale River
were again bare of tepee and lodge of the hunters of fur who had
repaired to their summer camps where fish were plentiful, to wait for
the great flights of snowy geese that the first frosts would drive south
from Arctic Islands. Daily the vitality and youth of Marcel were giving
him back his strength, and no remonstrance of the Bretons availed to
keep him quiet once his legs had mastered the distance to the
trade-house. Except for a slight pallor in the lean face and the loss of
weight, due to confinement, to his friends he was once more the Jean
Marcel they had known, but for weeks, a sudden twisting of his firm
mouth marking a twinge in the back, recalled only too vividly to them
all the knife-thrust of Lelac.

When, rid of the fever, and again conscious, Jean had become strong
enough to talk, he repeatedly voiced his gratitude to Julie for her
loyalty as nurse, but she invariably covered his mouth with her hand
refusing to hear him. Grown stronger and sitting up, he had often
repeated his thanks, raisi