it had seemed a blessing merely to
breathe and a marvelous gift to be free from pain. But she was not so
very strong yet. In another day, or perhaps two, she might feel better
able to take that last leap. It would be that river--the Roaring
River. That--that little gun made horrid jagged wounds. On her way to
Papineau's she had noticed any number of great air-holes in the ice.
In such places she had even heard the rumbling of the water on its
rushing journey towards the sea. It seemed an easy, restful, desirable
end to all her troubles. She would slip away by herself and these dear
kindly people would never know, she hoped. Like so many others, she
had gambled and lost, and perhaps she deserved to lose. Who could say?
If she had sinned in coming to this place she would bear the
punishment bravely. It would surely be very swift; there would be but
a gasp or two from the stunning chill of the icy water, after which
must come swift oblivion. The world was indeed a very harsh and
dangerous place. She would be glad to leave it; there could be nothing
to regret.

She raised her eyes once more and looked about her. The heat from the
birchen logs and the sizzling jack-pine penetrated her. Somewhere she
had read or heard that, to those condemned, a few last comforts were
usually proffered. It would be easier to find the end after a few more
hours of this blessed peace. It would have been more gruesome to meet
it while suffering from hunger with the very marrow of one's bones
freezing and one's teeth chattering. She was glad enough to sit still
on that rough stool. She did not want to be taken back, even to that
little village of Carcajou. The little children had made such good
friends with her, and would have climbed all over her had their mother
not reproved them; the very dogs had come up and rubbed against her,
and put their muzzles in her lap. Two of them were but half-grown
pups. And best of all the big-hearted and full-bosomed mother of the
family always spoke in words that were so friendly, even affectionate.
It had been a wonderful vision of a better world from which she did
not want to awaken too soon.

In the meanwhile Hugo had been compelled, not without a wry face, to
swallow the bitter potion Mrs. Papineau had prepared for him.

"I think I'll be going," he remarked.

"You rest one leetle time yet," ordered the housewife. "You haf noding
for to do. Feel better soon when you rest after de medicine. You no
'urry."