of his shoulders. This silhouette of him was dear to
her, the sound of his movements, the faint stir of his breathing
borne to her on the light breeze. Virginia's tender heart almost
overflowed with longing and fear for him.
They emerged on a little slope and at once pushed the canoe into
the current.
She accepted the aid of his hand for a moment, and sank to her
place, facing him He spurned lightly the shore, and so they were
adrift.
In a moment they seemed to be floating on a vast vapor of night,
infinitely remote from anywhere, surrounded by the silence that
might have been before the world's beginning. A faint splash could
have been a muskrat near at hand or a caribou far away. The paddle
rose and dipped with a faint _swish_, _swish_, and the steersman's
twist of it was taken up by the man's strong wrist so it did not
click against the gunwale; the bow of the craft divided the waters
with a murmuring so faint as to seem but the echo of a silence.
Neither spoke. Virginia watched him, her heart too full for words;
watched the full swing of his strong shoulders, the balance of his
body at the hips, the poise of his head against the dull sky. In a
moment more the parting would have to come. She dreaded it, and
yet she looked forward to it with a hungry joy. Then he would say
what she had seen in his eyes; then he would speak; then she would
hear the words that should comfort her in the days of waiting. For
a woman lives much for the present, and the moment's word is an
important thing.
The man swung his paddle steadily, throwing into the strokes a
wanton exuberance that showed how high his spirits ran. After a
time, when they were well out from the shore, he took a deep breath
of delight.
"Ah, you don't know how happy I am," he exulted, "you don't know!
To be free, to play the game, to match my wits against their--ah,
that is life!"
"I am sorry to see you go," she murmured, "very sorry. The days
will be full of terror until I know you are safe."
"Oh, yes," he answered: "but I'll get there, and I shall tell it
all to you at Quebec--at Quebec in August. It will he a brave
tale! You will be there--surely?"
"Yes," said the girl, softly; "I will be there--surely."
"Good! Feel the wind on your cheek? It is from the Southland,
where I am going. I have ventured--and I have not lost! It is
something not to lose, when one has ventured against many. They
have my goods--but I----"
"You?"
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