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dream; but it cannot be。'

  'And why; Father? I have said yes。'

  'You knew not what you did。 You did not think of the oath you

took; before your God; to that man who is your husband。 It remains for

me to make you realize the sanctity of such a pledge。'

  'And if I do realize; and yet refuse?'

  'Then God…'

  'Which God? My husband has a God which I care not to worship。

There must be many such。'

  'Child! unsay those words! Ah! you do not mean them。 I understand。

I; too; have had such moments。' For an instant he was back in his

native France; and a wistful; sad…eyed face came as a mist between him

and the woman before him。

  'Then; Father; has my God forsaken me? I am not wicked above

women。 My misery with him has been great。 Why should it be greater?

Why shall I not grasp at happiness? I cannot; will not; go back to

him!'

  'Rather is your God forsaken。 Return。 Throw your burden upon Him;

and the darkness shall be lifted。 O my child;…'

  'No; it is useless; I have made my bed and so shall I lie。 I will go

on。 And if God punishes me; I shall bear it somehow。 You do not

understand。 You are not a woman。'

  'My mother was a woman。'

  'But…'

  'And Christ was born of a woman。'

  She did not answer。 A silence fell。 Wharton pulled his mustache

impatiently and kept an eye on the trail。 Grace leaned her elbow on

the table; her face set with resolve。 The smile had died away。

Father Roubeau shifted his ground。

  'You have children?'

  'At one time I wished… but now… no。 And I am thankful。'

  'And a mother?'

  'Yes。'

  'She loves you?'

  'Yes。' Her replies were whispers。

  And a brother?… no matter; he is a man。 But a sister?'

  Her head drooped a quavering 'Yes。'

  'Younger? Very much?'

  'Seven years。'

  'And you have thought well about this matter? About them? About your

mother? And your sister? She stands on the threshold of her woman's

life; and this wildness of yours may mean much to her。 Could you go

before her; look upon her fresh young face; hold her hand in yours; or

touch your cheek to hers?'

  To his words; her brain formed vivid images; till she cried out;

'Don't! don't!' and shrank away as do the wolf…dogs from the lash。

  'But you must face all this; and better it is to do it now。'

  In his eyes; which she could not see; there was a great

compassion; but his face; tense and quivering; showed no relenting。

She raised her head from the table; forced back the tears; struggled

for control。

  'I shall go away。 They will never see me; and come to forget me。 I

shall be to them as dead。 And… and I will go with Clyde… today。'

  It seemed final。 Wharton stepped forward; but the priest waved him

back。

  'You have wished for children?'

  A silent 'Yes。'

  'And prayed for them?'

  'Often。'

  'And have you thought; if you should have children?' Father

Roubeau's eyes rested for a moment on the man by the window。

  A quick light shot across her face。 Then the full import dawned upon

her。 She raised her hand appealingly; but he went on。

  'Can you picture an innocent babe in your arms;' A boy? The world is

not so hard upon a girl。 Why; your very breast would turn to gall! And

you could be proud and happy of your boy; as you looked on other

children?…'

  'O; have pity! Hush!'

  'A scapegoat…'

  'Don't! don't! I will go back!' She was at his feet。

  'A child to grow up with no thought of evil; and one day the world

to fling a tender name in his face。 A child to look back and curse you

from whose loins he sprang!'

  'O my God! my God!'

  She groveled on the floor。 The priest sighed and raised her to her

feet。

  Wharton pressed forward; but she motioned him away。

  'Don't come near me; Clyde! I am going back!' The tears were

coursing pitifully down her face; but she made no effort to wipe

them away。

  'After all this? You cannot! I will not let you!'

  'Don't touch me!' She shivered and drew back。

  'I will! You are mine! Do you hear? You are mine!' Then he whirled

upon the priest。 'O what a fool I was to ever let you wag your silly

tongue! Thank your God you are not a common man; for I'd… but the

priestly prerogative must be exercised; eh? Well; you have exercised

it。 Now get out of my house; or I'll forget who and what you are!'

  Father Roubeau bowed; took her hand; and started for the door。 But

Wharton cut them off。

  'Grace! You said you loved me?'

  'I did。'

  'And you do now?'

  'I do。'

  'Say it again。'

  'I do love you; Clyde; I do。'

  'There; you priest!' he cried。 'You have heard it; and with those

words on her lips you would send her back to live a lie and a hell

with that man?'

  But Father Roubeau whisked the woman into the inner room and

closed the door。 'No words!' he whispered to Wharton; as he struck a

casual posture on a stool。 'Remember; for her sake;' he added。

  The room echoed to a rough knock at the door; the latch raised and

Edwin Bentham stepped in。

  'Seen anything of my wife?' he asked as soon as salutations had been

exchanged。

  Two heads nodded negatively。

  'I saw her tracks down from the cabin;' he continued tentatively;

'and they broke off; just opposite here; on the main trail。'

  His listeners looked bored。

  'And I… I though…'

  'She was here!' thundered Wharton。

  The priest silenced him with a look。 'Did you see her tracks leading

up to this cabin; my son?' Wily Father Roubeau… he had taken good care

to obliterate them as he came up the same path an hour before。

  'I didn't stop to look; I…' His eyes rested suspiciously on the door

to the other room; then interrogated the priest。 The latter shook

his head; but the doubt seemed to linger。

  Father Roubeau breathed a swift; silent prayer; and rose to his

feet。 'If you doubt me; why…' He made as though to open the door。

  A priest could not lie。 Edwin Bentham had heard this often; and

believed it。 'Of course not; Father;' he interposed hurriedly。 'I

was only wondering where my wife had gone; and thought maybe… I

guess she's up at Mrs。 Stanton's on French Gulch。 Nice weather;

isn't it? Heard the news? Flour's gone down to forty dollars a

hundred; and they say the che…cha…quas are flocking down the river

in droves。 But I must be going; so good…by。'

  The door slammed; and from the window they watched him take his

quest up French Gulch。



  A few weeks later; just after the June high…water; two men shot a

canoe into mid…stream and made fast to a derelict pine。 This tightened

the painter and jerked the frail craft along as would a tow…boat。

Father Roubeau had been directed to leave the Upper Country and return

to his swarthy children at Minook。 The white men had come among

them; and they were devoting too little time to fishing; and too

much to a certain deity whose transient habitat was in countless black

bottles。 Malemute Kid also had business in the Lower Country; so

they journeyed together。

  But one; in all the Northland; knew the man Paul Roubeau; and that

man was Malemute Kid。 Before him alone did the priest cast off the

sacerdotal garb and stand naked。 And why not? These two men knew

each other。 Had they not shared the last morsel of fish; the last

pinch of tobacco; the last and inmost thought; on the barren stretches

of Bering Sea; in the heartbreaking mazes of the Great Delta; on the

terrible winter journey from Point Barrow to the Porcupine?

  Father Roubeau puffed heavily at his trail…worn pipe; and gazed on

the red…disked sun; poised somberly on the edge of the northern

horizon。 Malemute Kid wound up his watch。 It was midnight。

  'Cheer up; old man!' The Kid was evidently gathering up a broken

thread。 'God surely will forgive such a lie。 Let me give you the

word of a man who strikes a true note:



     If She have spoken a word; remember thy lips are sealed;

     And the brand of the Dog is upon him by whom is the secret

         revealed。

     If there be trouble to Herward; and a lie of the blackest can

         clear;

     Lie; while thy lips can move or a man is alive to hear。'



  Father Roubeau removed his pipe and reflected。 'The man speaks true;

but my soul is not vexed with that。 The lie and the penance stand with

God; but… but…'

  'What then? Your hands are clean。'

  'Not so。 Kid; I have thought much; and yet the thing remains。 I

knew; and made her go back。'

  The clear note of a robin rang out from the wooden bank; a partridge

drummed the call in the distance; a moose lunged noisily in the

eddy; but the twain smoked on in silence。

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