Every fibre in her revolted at thought of his death. If it was to be
done beneath the pitying Heaven, he should be saved. He must be helped
to escape. The other was insupportable. Nothing mattered in all the
world save that. Therefore she set herself, alone and fearless, to
follow the tribe of the Nakonkirhirinons to the far North if need be,
to hang on their flank like a wolverine, to take every chance the good
God might send. Chief of these was her hope of the Hudson's Bay brigade
which should be coming into the wilderness at this time of year.
Somewhere she must meet them and demand their help.
There was no rebellion in her, no hope of gain in what she did. Love
was of her own soul alone, since that evening by the factory when she
had seen the factor bend his head and kiss the little Francette.
No more did she think of his words in the forest, no more did she dream
of the wondrous glory of that first kiss.
Far apart and impersonal was McElroy now,--only she loved him with that
vast idolatry which seeks naught but the good of its idol.
Even if he loved Francette he must be saved for that happiness.
Therefore she knelt in a cockleshell alone on a rushing river and sped
through, a wilderness into appalling danger.
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