Oxford Democrat. [volume] (Paris, Me.) 1833-1933, 1895-08-27


1t was strange he had hot thought OF
that before. Children? He shrugged his
shoulders There might possibly be q
child, but children - never! But he
doubted even regarding q child, for no
word had come to him concerning that
possibility. He was even most puzzled
at the tone and substance of their let
ters. From the beginning there had
been no reproaches, no excitement, no
railing, but studied kindness and con-
ventional statements, through which
Mrs. Armour's solicitous affection
scarcely ever peeped. He had shot his
bolt and Reconsideration, almost inn
perturbability. They appeared to treat
the matter as though he were wild
youth who would yet mend his ways.
He read over their infrequent letters to
him; his to them had been still more
infrequent. In one there was the state.
ment that "she was progressing favor
ably with her English" III another
that ''she was riding good deal, y
again that ''shc appeared anxious To
adapt herself 10 her new life.
At all these he whistled little to
himself and smiled bitterly. Then, all
at once, he got up and straightway
burned them all He again tried to put
the matter behind him for the present,
knowing that no must face IL one day.
and staving of its reality Us long as
possible He did his utmost 10 be philo-
sophical and say his quid refert, but 1t
was easier tried than done, for Jacques
Pontiac's words kept ranking in his
mind, and he found himself carrying
round vague load which made him
distracted occasionally and often lit.
tie reckless III action and speech. Ii.
hunting bear and moose he had proved
himself more daring than the oldest
hunter and proportionately successful.
He paid his servants well, but was
sharp with them. He made long, hard
expeditions, defying the weather rs the
hardest Of prairie and mountain men
mostly hesitate to defy il. He bought
up much land, then, dissatisfied, sold
it again at loss, but subsequently
made final arrangements for establish
ing very large farm.
When he once became actually inter
ested in this, he shook of something of
his moodiness and settled himself To de-
velop the thing. He had good talent for
initiative and administration and at
last, in the time when his wife was
feature of the London season, he found
his scheme in working order, and the
necessity of going to England was forced
upon him.
Actually he wished that the absolute
necessity had presented itself before.
There was always the moral necessity,
Of course-but thenl Here now was a
business need. and he must 20. Yet he
did not fix day or make definite ar
rangements He could hardly have be
lievcd himself such a coward. With
liberal emphasis he called himself
sneak, and one day at Fort Charles sat
down 10 write 10 his solicitor in Mont
real to say that he would come on at
once Still be hesitated. As ho sat there
thinking Eye-of the Moon, his father
in.law, opened the door quietly and en-
tered. He had avoided the chief ever
since he had come back TO Fort Charles
and practically had not spoken 10 him
for year. Armour flushed slightly
with annoyance But presently, with a
touch of his old humor, he rose, held
out his hand and said ironically: We'll,
father law, it's about time We had "a
big talk, isn't it? We are not very in
innate for such close relatives.
The old Indian did not fully under
stand the meaning or the tone Of Ar
mour's speech, but he said, Howl
and reaching out his hand for the pipe
offered him lighted it and sat down.
smoking in silence Armour waited;
but, seeing that the other was not yet
moved to talk, he turned TO his letter
again. After a time Eye-of-the- Moon
said gravely, getting to his feet,
"Brother"
Armour looked up; then rose also.
The Indian bowed to him courteously;
then sat down again Armour threw a
leg over the corner of the table and
waited.
Brother, said the Indian present
ly, you are Of the great race that con-