“Louis? Yes—well, I believe I do think I’ve heard the name before. Oh yes! People used to say he was fond o’ my mother when she was a girl; but I never heard her speak of him. Now ye mention it, I remember the only time I ever asked her about it, she burst into tears, and told me never to speak of him again. Thadwick was his name—Louis Thadwick; but he was better known as Louis the Trapper. But he’s almost forgotten at the settlement now; it’s so long ago. Every one thinks him dead. Why d’ye ask?”
“Think he’s dead?” repeated Dick slowly. “An’ why not? My poor friend that was killed when he left his native place swore he’d never go back, an’ no more he did—no more he did; though he little thought that death would step in so soon to make him keep his word.”
“Was Louis your friend who died?” inquired March with much interest and not a little pity, for he observed that his companion was deeply affected.
Dick did not reply. His thoughts seemed to be wandering again, so March forbore to interrupt him, and, turning to Mary, said in a more cheerful tone—
“Whether would ye like to go to Pine Point settlement and stay with my mother, or that I should come here and spend the winter with you and Dick?”
Mary looked puzzled, and after some moments’ consideration replied, “Me don’t know.” Then, looking up quickly, she added, “Which you like?”
“Indeed, I must make the same reply, Mary—‘I don’t know.’ But, as I can’t expect my friend Dick to give up his wild life, I suppose I must make up my mind to come here.”
“March,” said Dick quickly, “I’ve changed my mind, lad. It won’t do. You’ll have to spend next winter at home—anyhow ye can’t spend it with me.”
Had a thunderbolt struck the earth between March and Mary, they would not have been filled with half so much consternation as they were on hearing these words. It was plain that both had thoroughly made up their minds that they were to be together for many months to come. Dick noted the effect of his remark, and a peculiar frown crossed his countenance for a moment, but it gave place to a smile, as he said—
“I’m sorry to disappoint ye, lad, but the thing cannot be.”