The letter was from Father Duval. Some English lay-brother had written it but the priest's unmistakable signature brought it to a close.
'Dear Sergeant Adair:
Don't fear. She is happy. I have married her myself, today, at my mission here, to Loud Gun. I promise you, her heart is mended! She is happy.
I am always your friend,
FRANCOIS M. DUVAL, O.M.I.'
Slowly Hector read the letter, as slowly tore it into little pieces—as one who tears something that is past and done with—and, going to the open window, let the pieces fly from his fingers in the prairie breeze....
"You're a devil for th' In'juns, Hec'," MacFarlane repeated.
The sweet face of Moon drifted momentarily before Hector's eyes, in the wake of the scraps of paper—fading, at last, like them—a something done with—
"You've got a soft spot for 'em, haven't you, eh?" MacFarlane persisted.
"Yes," said Hector.