"You forget," answered the priest, "that it is against the law, and that as a priest of my order I am vowed to give no rum to an Indian."
"A vow! A vow! Son of God! what is a vow beside a woman—my wife?"
His misery and his rage were pitiful to see.
"Perjure my soul! Offer rum! Break my vow in the face of the enemies of God's Church! What have you done for me that I should do this for you, John Bagot?"
"Coward!" was the man's despairing cry, with a sudden threatening movement. "Christ himself would have broke a vow to save her."
The grave, kind eyes of the priest met the other's fierce gaze, and quieted the wild storm that was about to break.
"Who am I that I should teach my Master?" he said, solemnly. "What would you give Christ, Bagot, if He had saved her to you?"
The man shook with grief, and tears rushed from his eyes, so suddenly and fully had a new emotion passed through him.
"Give—give!" he cried, "I would give twenty years of my life!"
The figure of the priest stretched up with gentle grandeur. Holding out the iron crucifix, he said: "On your knees and swear it, John Bagot!"