As we stood leaning over the sleeping child the little thing opened its eyes, saw its father, and smiled. It was too much for him. The big man dropped on his knees with a dry sob.
‘Is there no chance at all, at all?’ he whispered, but I could give him no hope. He immediately rose, and pulling himself together, stood perfectly quiet.
A new terror seized upon the mother.
‘My baby is not—what you call it?’ going through the form of baptism. ‘An’ he will not come to la sainte Vierge,’ she said, crossing herself.
‘Do not fear for your little one,’ said Mrs. Mavor, still with her arms about her. ‘The good Saviour will take your darling into His own arms.’
But the mother would not be comforted by this. And Slavin too, was uneasy.
‘Where is Father Goulet?’ he asked.
‘Ah! you were not good to the holy pere de las tam, Michael,’ she replied sadly. ‘The saints are not please for you.’
‘Where is the priest?’ he demanded.
‘I know not for sure. At de Landin’, dat’s lak.’