"Are you going so soon, Jan?"
"I am tired," he said in excuse. "It has been two days since I have slept, Mélisse. Good night!"
He smiled at her from the door, but the "Good night" which fell from her lips was lifeless and unmeaning. Jan shivered when he went out. Under the cold stars he clenched his hands, knowing that he had come from the cabin none too soon.
Choking back the grief of this last meeting with Mélisse, he crossed to the company store.
It was late when Cummins returned home. Mélisse was still up. He looked at her sharply over his shoulder as he hung up his coat and hat.
"Has anything come between you and Jan?" he asked suddenly. "Why have you been crying?"
"Sometimes the tears come when I am playing the violin, father. I know of nothing that has come between Jan and me, only I—I don't understand—"
She stopped, struggling hard to keep back the sobs that were trembling in her throat.
"Neither do I understand," exclaimed the factor, going to the stove to light his pipe. "He gave me his resignation as a paid servant of the company tonight!"
"He is not going—to leave—the post?" breathed Mélisse.