These I implore, in
mercy. And for this last I beg in humbleness of spirit complete,--Grant
Thou peace to the friend whose eyes eat into my heart with pity! Peace,
peace, Jesu of the Seven Scars, have mercy on him, for he is good to
his foundations! I beg for him peace and forgetting of unhappy me!
Reward him in some better fate, this youth of the tender heart, of the
great regard! Save us, Thou Lamb Jesus--"
In the dark eyes there was a shine of tears, the lips, with their
curled corners, were trembling. The face upturned in the fitful light
was all tenderness. The calm brown hands clasped before her were all
strength.
Marc Dupre, in the forest's edge, felt his breast heave with an emotion
beyond control as he stood so, looking upon the scene, listening to the
sliding voice. Darkness hid the wilderness, out on the face of the lake
a fish leaped with a slap, and a nightbird called shrilly off to the
south. With aching throat the trapper turned softly back into the
woods. When he came later along the shore, with heavier step than was
his wont, the fagot and the forked stake were gone, there was no black
crucifix, and Maren waited by the fire, water brought from the lake in
Dupre's small pail, the little sticks ready for the roasting.
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