'And rather too much the opposite when he's away, eh, my Marie?' said Lamont, with the lover's softness.
'Well,' she said, with dainty hesitation, 'one naturally looks for that which custom has made us long for.'
'But when I was away, you found others to take my place, didn't you?' he asked, gazing eagerly at her small face, with the dark crisp curls nodding over the forehead.
'It's not a fair question, Hugh. You may be jealous if you like, but still I have something against you. That long mysterious journey north; you can't give me a reason for that.'
'Business, chérie. I thought of you all that time.'
She laughed. 'You were quite satisfied with thought only. Come, tell me the truth. Was there not some hidden attraction there? I have heard that the Cree girls are beautiful—some of them. Was it one of them?'
He joined carelessly in her mirth. 'Who is jealous now? Are you afraid of an Indian rival, my Marie? But who are these?'
Two other figures came along the trail in the white light. One was tall and stooping, the other short and brisk of step. They were talking together in French. So still was the night, their voices might be heard before they were themselves visible.
The couples advanced and met. Then Lamont gave a quick exclamation—more it seemed of fear than surprise—and pulled off his hat. 'The Archbishop!'
He it was, enjoying the cool of the evening. The tall priest by his side was Father Lecompte, the man of his right hand. This latter looked careworn and very ill.