As he began to read, something—perhaps it was Alagwa’s strained attention—drew the eyes of the group upon him. Abruptly all grew silent, as if something portentous was in the air.
Jack smiled as he read. Clearly the news was good. Then suddenly his expression changed. A look of terror swept across his face. He flung up his hands, reeled, and cried out. Then before even Alagwa could reach him he toppled to the floor.
Instantly Alagwa was on her knees beside him. “Jack! Jack!” she wailed. “Jack! Jack!”
Williams glowered at the pair in evil joy. Then he stooped and picked the letter from the floor, to which it had fluttered from Jack’s loosened fingers. For a moment he scanned it; then he looked up. “I reckon this is what knocked him,” he jeered. “This here letter says: ‘The girl you was sweet on ain’t married. She’s done broke her engagement and she wants you to come back to her.’ An’ here he’s done gone and tied up with a half-breed Injun cub. Ha! Ha!”
Alagwa’s face grew white. What was lacking in the letter her mind supplied. Her brain reeled. Williams’s jeering laughter grew faint, coming from an immeasurable distance; the candles spun round her in enormous zigzags, the floor beneath her swayed. Blindly she stared, all her being concentrated in one great determination not to faint.
Then she felt Fantine’s arms about her. Slowly self control came back to her, and she raised her head. “Help me to get my husband to bed,” she commanded.
Two hours later Alagwa, dressed for the road, stood looking down upon Jack’s unconscious form. Her eyes were dry but her face betrayed the ache that tore her heart.
She was not uneasy about Jack. The surgeon had seen him and had declared that his set-back could be no more than temporary. “Good Lord!” he exclaimed. “What would you have? From all accounts the boy’s been under stress enough tonight to prostrate a well man. He’s blamed lucky to get off as easy as he probably has. Take better care of him in the future, madame!”
Alagwa had listened silently. She knew that more than exertion had overcome Jack. Her mind was made up. Since Williams’s revelation she had felt that she no longer had a place by her husband’s side. She had saved his life in battle and had brought him safely back to his white companions. Since then she had saved his life again by the care she had taken of him. She had betrayed her friends in order that he might be safe. And she had reaped her bitter reward. She did not blame Jack. She blamed herself. She ought never to have married him. His life was not hers. If for a moment she had thought it possible to go with him and live the white man’s life in far Alabama the events of the night had blotted the idea from her mind. She had done all she could to save him. The fort, warned of the coming attack, would be able to hold out till help came from the south. She could do nothing more. Her part in his life was over. It remained only for her to take herself out of it.