or any other priest would marry him to her
without his antecedents being certified. A Protestant minister would,
perhaps, but would Rosalie give up her faith? Following him without
the blessing of the Church, she would trample under foot every dear
tradition of her life, win the scorn of all of her religion, and destroy
her own peace; for the faith of her fathers was as the breath of her
nostrils. What cruelty to her!

But was it, after all, even true that he had but to call and she would
come? In truth it well might be that she had learned to despise him;
to feel how dastardly he had been to take her love, given in blind
simplicity, bestowed like the song of the bird upon the listening
fields--to take the plenteous fulness of her life, and give nothing in
return save the empty hand, the hopeless hour, the secret sorrow.

Nothing could quench his misery. The physical part of him craved without
ceasing for something to allay his distress. Again and again he fought
his old enemy with desperate resolve. To fall again, to touch liquor
once more, was to end all for ever. He fought on tenaciously and
gloomily, with little of the pride of life, with nothing of the
old stubborn self-will, but with a new-awakened sense. He had found
conscience at last--and more.

The months went by and still M. Evanturel lingered on, and Rosalie did
not come. The strain became too great at last. In the week preceding
Easter, when all the parish was busy at Four Mountains, making costumes,
rehearsing, building, putting up seats, cutting down trees, and erecting
crosses and calvaries, Charley disclosed to Jo a new intention.

In the earlier part of the winter Jo and he had met two or three times
a week, but now Jo had come to help him with his work in the shop--two
silent, devoted companions. They understood each other, and in that
understanding were life and death. For never did Jo forget that a year
from the day he had confessed his sins he meant to give himself up to
justice. This caused him no sleepless nights. He thought more of Charley
than of himself, and every month now he went to confession, and every
day he said his prayers. He was at his prayers when Charley went to tell
him of his purpose. Charley had often seen Jo on his knees of late, and
he had wondered, but not with the old pagan mind. "Jo," he said, "I am
going away--to Montreal."

"To Montreal!" exclaimed Jo huskily. "You are going back--to stay?"

"Not that. I am going--to