By this time the rough table was set and Mrs. Papineau deplored the fact that Hugo had not consented to remain.
“Heem is ’urted more as vat he tink,” she confided to the girl. “To-morrow somebody go to de leetle shack an’ fin’ ’ow he is. One dog heem not much nurse, eh?”
These words made Madge feel uncomfortable. Once or twice the idea had come to her that such a man ought to be punished, that he should be made to suffer, that he deserved anything that could make him realize how heinous his conduct had been. But now she had a vague impression that she was sorry for him, that it was on her account that he had 144 refused to stay and had gone out at once in the gathering darkness that had come so swiftly. But in spite of these thoughts and of all the emotions she had undergone Madge felt again the besetting pangs of fierce hunger. The slices of moose-meat sizzling in the pan filled the place with appetizing odor. The mother placed her brood at the long table but helped her guest first, and plentifully. How these people ate and expected others to eat! Never could they have heard of the scanty meals of working girls, of the cups of blue milk, of bitter tea, or of the little rolls and bits of meat purchased at so-called delicatessen stores. The girl ate hungrily and the meal was soon over, but as soon as it was finished the terrible weariness came upon her again and she was thankful to lie down upon a hard mattress of ticking filled with the aromatic twigs of balsam fir, beneath heavy blankets and a wonderful robe of hareskins.
Before she could fall asleep, however, the experiences of her crowded day passed weirdly before her eyes; yet her despair seemed to be contending with a strange feeling that was certainly not hope. It was perhaps merely a weak acquiescence to conditions that her immense fatigue and wearied brain made her accept, dully, stupidly, since she had 145 lost all power of resistance. It was something like the enforced peace of a wounded thing that has just been able to crawl back into its burrow and has found the rest its body craves for.
In the midst of so large a family one could not aspire to the lone possession of a bed. The little girl she had held in her lap had been placed beside her, not without many apologies from Mrs. Papineau. In the darkness she could feel the little warm body nestling against her, and hear the soft and regular breathing. It was comforting since it brought a feeling that the little one protected her, in some strange way, and was leading her in paths of darkness with a little warm hand and a heart that was unafraid and confident of the morrow’s shining sun. Very soon there came a restless sleep which at first was filled with uncanny visions, from which she awakened once or twice in fear. But at last came entire surcease from suffering as the brain that had been overwrought ceased to toil.
In the meanwhile Hugo had slowly made his way back to his shack. If his arm hurt he had now little consciousness of it. The thing that disturbed him most was that girl’s unshakable belief in his villainy. Was she really insane? He had had no opportunity to communicate that thought to Mrs. Papineau. 146 But then, after her arrival, she had seemed so absolutely rational in all that she had said and done that the idea had, for the time being, passed away from his mind. And what if, at least in part, she had spoken the truth? What if some amazing distortion of reality had truly and honestly given her these beliefs, through evidence that must be all against him? The words she had spoken before starting for the Papineaus’, and the further ones uttered on the tote-road, while he rested, held a drama so poignant that it struck a chill to his heart. She might, after all, have been speaking the truth as she had been misled into believing it! But then there must be some amazing conspiracy at work, some foul doings whose objects utterly escaped him and which left him staring at the little lamp now burning on his table, as if it might perhaps have revealed some key to the amazing problem.
Was it possible that a weak and slender woman could actually be compelled to carry on a fight against hunger and illness, with never a friend on earth, until she was finally so beaten down to the ground that her soul cried in agony for relief? According to her she had seized upon the only resource open to her, in which there was but a dim outlook 147 towards safety. Then she had found herself the victim of a hellish jest, apparently, or of a conspiracy so base that one sickened at the mere thought of it. There was no doubt that those big eyes of the suffering woman haunted the man, while the accents of her despair still rang in his ears and distressed him. The expression of the crucified had been on that pale face of hers, which had reddened so deeply when a sense of shame had overwhelmed her. It was as if he had beheld a drowning woman and been utterly prevented from extending a saving hand to her. More strongly he began to feel that some one had surely sinned against that woman, and feelings of vengefulness, none the less bitter for all their vagueness, began to obsess him.
Once, on his way back from Papineau’s, Maigan had pressed close to him, as if for safety. From the great hardwood ridges of his right he had heard a long and familiar sound. It was the one the Frenchwoman had mentioned, the fitful baying of wolves on the track of a deer. Picturing to himself the overtaking and pulling down of the victim, he shivered, hardened though he was to the unending tragedies of the wilderness, and hurried along faster, although he knew he stood in no danger.
When he had reached his shack by the Roaring River he had entered it and lighted the small lamp. It chanced to be the last match in his pocket that he used for the purpose. There was no need to open the big package that stood on a shelf, since he remembered having left two or three small boxes in his hunting bag. He went over to the corner where he had left it and bent over, somewhat painfully. As he lifted it from the floor he saw an envelope and picked it up. It was addressed to him. Tearing it open he stared at the words “Starting this evening. Please have some one meet me. Madge Nelson.”