He stood without and stubbornly refused to give his message, and at
last McElroy himself went to the cabin of the Baptistes.
He had not seen the girl since that day in the forest, and his heart
beat to suffocation as he neared the open door and caught the sound of
her voice singing a French love song. He stopped on the step, and for a
moment his glance took in the interior: By a window to the north she
stood at a table, its wooden surface soft and white as doeskin from
water and stone, and prepared the meal for ash-cakes, her sleeves, as
usual, rolled to her shoulder and the collar of her dress open at the
throat.
To the young factor's eyes she was a sight that weakened the knees
beneath him and set him quaking with a new fear. He dared not speak and
bring her gaze upon him, the memory of his boastful words in the forest
was too poignant.
But it needed not speech. Had he but known the wonder that had lived
within her all these days he would have understood the force that
presently stopped the song on her lips, as if her soul listened
unconsciously for tangible knowledge of the presence it already felt
near, that slowed her nimble brown fingers in the pan, that presently
lifted her head and turned her face to him.
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