amed, in lieu of candles, a fagot taken from the pine.

On her knees, her hanging hands clasped and her face, raised to the
Symbol, she spoke, and the deep voice was sweet with its sliding minors.

"Jesu mia," she said softly, "forgive Thou our sins--Ours. Teach me Thy
lesson,--me with pain that will not cease. For him,--Oh, Thou Lord of
Heaven, comfort him living,--shrive him Thyself in dying! Let not
the unspeakable happen! Send, send Thou that help without which I am
helpless, and failing that, send me the strength of him who wrestled
with the Angel, the wisdom of Solomon! Not for my love, O Christ,
but for him, grant that I may find help to save him from death! And
more,--deliver also that venturer who, but for my thoughtless words of
the red flower, would be now safe on the Saskatchewan. These I
implore, in mercy. And for this last I beg in humbleness of spirit
complete,--Grant Thou peace to the friend whose eyes eat into my heart
with pity! Peace, peace, Jesu of the Seven Scars, have mercy on him,
for he is good to his foundations! I beg for him peace and forgetting
of unhappy me! Reward him in some better fate, this youth of the tender
heart, of the great regard! Save us, Thou Lamb Jesus--"

In the dark eyes there was a shine of tears, the lips, with their curled
corners, were trembling. The face upturned in the fitful light was all
tenderness. The calm brown hands clasped before her were all strength.

Marc Dupre, in the forest's edge, felt his breast heave with an emotion
beyond control as he stood so, looking upon the scene, listening to the
sliding voice. Darkness hid the wilderness, out on the face of the lake
a fish leaped with a slap, and a nightbird called shrilly off to the
south. With aching throat the trapper turned softly back into the woods.
When he came later along the shore, with heavier step than was his wont,
the fagot and the forked stake were gone, there was no black crucifix,
and Maren waited by the fire, water brought from the lake in Dupre's
small pail, the little sticks ready for the roasting.

"Let me have the grouse, M'sieu," she said; "the hunt was long?"

But Dupre did not answer.

CHAPTER XIX THE HUDSON'S BAY BRIGADE

The two days that followed were heavy ones to Maren.

No farther did they dare venture lest they pass to the west and miss
the brigade coming down from the north and entering the lake at the
northeast extremity.

So they waited on the shore in anxiety of spi