head passionately
forward on her arms as they rested on the counter, and cried: "O my God!
my God!"

Soldier Joe lay still as if sleeping, and when Blanche was called away
again he rose, stole out, went down to Freddy Tarlton's office, and
offered to bet Freddy two to one that Blanche wouldn't live a year.
Joe's experience of women was limited. He had in his mind the case of a
girl who had accidentally smothered her child; and so he said:

"Blanche has something on her mind that's killing her, Freddy. When
trouble fixes on her sort it kills swift and sure. They've nothing to
live for but life, and it isn't good enough, you see, for--for--" Joe
paused to find out where his philosophy was taking him.

Freddy Tarlton finished the sentence for him: "For an inner sorrow is a
consuming fire."

Fort Latrobe soon had an unexpected opportunity to study Soldier Joe's
theory. One night Jacques did not appear at Weir's Tavern as he had
engaged to do, and Soldier Joe and another went across the frozen
river to his log-hut to seek him. They found him by a handful of
fire, breathing heavily and nearly unconscious. One of the sudden and
frequently fatal colds of the mountains had fastened on him, and he had
begun a war for life. Joe started back at once for liquor and a doctor,
leaving his comrade to watch by the sick man.

He could not understand why Blanche should stagger and grow white when
he told her; nor why she insisted on taking the liquor herself. He did
not yet guess the truth.

The next day all Fort Latrobe knew that Blanche was nursing Jacques, on
what was thought to be his no-return journey. The doctor said it was
a dangerous case, and he held out little hope. Nursing might bring him
through, but the chance was very slight. Blanche only occasionally left
the sick man's bedside to be relieved by Soldier Joe and Freddy Tarlton.
It dawned on Joe at last, it had dawned on Freddy before, what Blanche
meant by the heart-breaking words uttered that night in Weir's Tavern.
Down through the crust of this woman's heart had gone something both
joyful and painful. Whatever it was, it made Blanche a saving nurse,
a good apothecary; for, one night the doctor pronounced Jacques out
of danger, and said that a few days would bring him round if he was
careful.

Now, for the first time, Jacques fully comprehended all Blanche had done
for him, though he had ceased to wonder at her changed attitude to him.
Through his suffering and hi