“And never was?” asked the priest gently.
Jack colored. “I won’t say that,” he admitted. “I—I thought I was in love once. Good heavens! I didn’t know what love was then.” He laughed bitterly. “But I’ve found out now. Oh! Yes! I’ve found out now.”
Father Francisco’s eyes had never left the lad’s face. But at the last words he nodded. “I believe you, my son,” he said. “We men are poor creatures at best. I come to bring you a crumb of news—only a crumb, but still, news. Your wife did not go south. She went down the Maumee with a party of Pottawatomies. I think she must have intended to go back to the Shawnees with whom she had lived so many years.”
Jack clambered to his feet. “Down the Maumee?” he echoed. “I’ll start after her at once.”
But the priest shook his head. “No!” he said. “You must get well and strong first. If you start now you will kill yourself and you will not find your wife. She is in no danger. Wherever she went, she went of her own accord. She is perfectly safe. If you really want to find her you will control yourself and get well.”
Jack set his teeth hard. The advice was good and he knew that he must follow it. But still he protested. “If you knew,” he began,——
“I do know.” The priest spoke gently. “Years ago I myself—But that is long past. Let it lie! You must not start for at least two weeks.”
“All right.” Jack spoke reluctantly. “And, thank you, Father!”
The priest rose. “No thanks are necessary,” he said. “The church frowns on the separation of husbands and wives, and I only did my duty in telling you as soon as I knew.”
Jack lay back on his couch rejoicing. The veil was still before his eyes, but it was no longer black. Light had dawned behind it. It would brighten, brighten, till——