The true northerner., 1883-04-27

strength to appreciate you, or to bt
true to you. l am fearing that nothing
but i'll will come to you of what you
have done to-day"
expected that he would turn upor
me furiously, but he did not. His face
lost it's color, and he said, as if rea
soning to himself, not in answer to me
1T was her own wish. would have
trusted her without any pledge. II
will be strange if she does not regret
this day, yet stake my soul that she
never will"
1 said to myself: "He has given hel
his best; surely that cannot have been
unworthily bestowed" / dug o grave
for my doubts and suspicious, and tried
to cover them deep.
We were in winter quarters in q can
yon of the Frazer river. We had nc
mail for several weeks, and toward the
end of the yeaI we concluded that there
were noble army of martyrs and al
accumulation of mail-bags beneath the
snow-dlifts which stretched almost un-
broken for hundred miles, the dis
tance to the nearest post station. One
day, after q week of almost uninterrupt-
edly fine weather, the welcome messen-
ger arrived-arrived on his low sledge
drawn by eight sure-footed dogs-ar-
rived in hot haste, with bells jingling,
and frost-powdered beard, and bright
eyes cleaning out from frame of furs,
for all the world like belated Santa
Claus.
Fitzgerald, as usual, opened the bag,
and knew by his puzzled look that
the letters eagerly expected by him
from his wife were missing. He kept
apart from us all day, but in the even
ing joined the group round the fire,
with pipe and newspaper.
There was youngster IN our party
whom L knew was fully informed of the
love of Fitzgerald and Miss Emily Cor
don-as far, that is, as the affair had
been gossiped over by his mamma and
her women friends. When this youth,
buried in home paper, whistled shril-
ly, and shouted, "Say, Fitzgerald, here's
O nut for you'll" L felt certain that he
had bad news of Fitzgerald's wife.
what is it?" Fitzgerald asked, in
differently, not looking up from his
paper.
about that stunning Miss Gordon
the girl you were such spoons on. Do
you remember?' p
Fitzgerald took his pipe from his
mouth. Il remember. What about
her?"
" 1t is reported from Rome that Miss
Emily Gordon, one of our fairest
daughters, is to marry the young and
distinguished Count Mondelia. The
wedding is soon to be celebrated in the
Holy City with great eclat.'"
1 wondered how Fitzgerald could
quietly listen to this announcement,
read in the most deliberate manner. L
could barely refrain from getting up
and yelling. My astonishment increased
when, having asked for the paper, he
carefully re-read the item; then taking
his great fur coat, he left the room In
a few minutes L joined him, and we
walked to and fro together on the hard
packed snow before the shanty.
"You see, Jack, must leave at once.
"Yes,' 1 acquiesced; Il suppose you
could not rest here" Then protested /:
Fitzgerald, let her go. She is weak,
faithless, unworthy"
He repeated my adjectives with evi !,
dent perplexity.
II see. Your old injustice to her.
You misunderstood. The case is as
plain as daylight. This Count dances
attendance on her; her parents encour-
age him; people talk of them together,
and wholesale manufacturer of hes-a
newspaper correspondent-sends idle
gossip to America as fact. She is the
victim Of a persecution. They may
have discovered our secret, and pre-
vented her writing to me. How far
away is she? Not miles. days-ten,
twenty, thirty. 1 shall not rest till she
is safe in my arms, for she is my wife.
You know it, Jack. They may marry
her to a thousand Counts, but she is my
wife,"
Feeling that the moment was not
happy for the presentation of views, ]
presented no more. L agreed to all the
absurdities he chose to advance.
The next morning he announced tc
the camp that he was gong to Fort
Garry to consult some engineers, and
would probably be absent about two
months. was to accompany him, and
undertook to prepare for the journey.
About noon an Indian runner came in
on snow shoes with an extra mail. There
was one letter for Fitzgerald, and the
handwriting was that of his wife. sent
the letter to his private room. In about
half an hour 1 knocked at his door, ano
he said "Come in."
He was sitting before table, leaning
on it with folded arms. AS if anticipat
ing and wishing to evade inquiry, ht
said, Il suppose you have been getting
things ready"
Eyes. We can leave at any minute.
II am undecided about going now.
think 1 will put it off until tomorrow
at all events. amsorry to have givei
you so much trouble"
Just as you please" said. II an
Indifferent.
"What good fellow you ore, Jack,
he said, standing up and looking at me
A casual observer might have though