re two fugitives in a land
where every man's hand might be against us, but at least I had the
means to guard my own.

And looking at them, I began to yield to that temptation which had
assailed me ceaselessly, both at Quebec and since we left St. Boniface,
not to yield up Jacqueline, never to let her go.

Why should I bear the yoke of moral laws here in this wilderness, with
our pursuing enemy behind--a day's journey perhaps--but leaving me only
a breathing spell, a resting space, before I must fight for Jacqueline?
Or when her own had abandoned her?

Jacqueline glided out of the tent and knelt beside me, putting her arms
about the dog's neck and her head upon its furry coat. The dogs loved
her, and she seemed always to understand their needs.

"Paul, there is something wrong with them," she said, her hand still
caressing the mane of the great beast, who looked at her with pathetic
eyes.

I had noticed that they did not eat that night, but had imagined that
they would do so later when they had recovered from their fatigue.

"What is wrong with them, Jacqueline?" I asked.

She raised her head and looked sadly at me. "It is I, Paul," she
answered.

"You, Jacqueline?"

"Yes, it is I!" she cried with sudden, passionate vehemence. "It is
_I_ who am wrong and have brought trouble on you. Paul, I do not even
know how you came into my life, nor who I am, nor anything that
happened to me at any time before you brought me to Quebec, except that
my home is there." She pointed northward. "Who am I? Jacqueline, you
say. The name means nothing to me. I am a woman without a past or
future, a shadow that falls across your life, Paul. And I could
perhaps remember, but I know--I _know_--that I must never remember."

She began weeping wildly. I surmised that she must have been under an
intense strain for days. I had not dreamed that this girl who walked
by my side and paid me the tribute of her docile faith suffered and
knew.

I took her hand in mine. "Dear Jacqueline," I answered, "it is best to
forget these things until the time comes to remember them. It will
come, Jacqueline. Let us be happy till then. You have been ill, and
you have had great trouble. That is all. I am taking you home. Do
you not remember anything about your home, Jacqueline?"

She clapped her hands to her head and gave a little terrified cry.

"I--think--so," she murmured. "But I dare not remember, Paul.

"I have dreamed of thin