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Roe, Vingie E. (Vingie Eve)

"The Maid of the Whispering Hills"


Light of tread in his moccasins, Dupre came quietly out not far from
the blaze of the small fire, and stopped among the shoulder-high brush
that fringed the forest.
In the glow of the fire Maren knelt before a green stake set upright in
the earth, from a fork of which there hung a black iron crucifix, its
ivory Christ gleaming in the light. On either side of this pitiful
altar there flamed, in lieu of candles, a fagot taken from the pine.
On her knees, her hanging hands clasped and her face, raised to the
Symbol, she spoke, and the deep voice was sweet with its sliding
minors.
"Jesu mia," she said softly, "forgive Thou our sins--Ours. Teach me Thy
lesson,--me with pain that will not cease. For him,--Oh, Thou Lord of
Heaven, comfort him living,--shrive him Thyself in dying! Let not the
unspeakable happen! Send, send Thou that help without which I am
helpless, and failing that, send me the strength of him who wrestled
with the Angel, the wisdom of Solomon! Not for my love, O Christ, but
for him, grant that I may find help to save him from death! And more,
--deliver also that venturer who, but for my thoughtless words of the
red flower, would be now safe on the Saskatchewan.


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