The Miller press. [volume] (Miller, S.D.) 190?-current, 1920-06-17

20 improve. There a every l:keii-
hood now Of being able to carry on
through the winter. Brousseau had
showed no signs Of further interior
ence with his men, and there was even
the possibility of getting out another
small load.
Hilary had sent Nanette home to St
Joseph. She had promised to write to
him, but, as he had expected, he had
not heard from her. Baptiste had
thrown up his position with Dupont
and gone into the Ste. Marie limits to
trap. Marie Dupont avoided Hilary;
he had not seer her since the day Of
their adventure.
AS for Dupont, whatever he knew.
he showed no signs. And things seemed
to settle into equilibrium, though Hill
airy was sure that a denouement was
to follow. He could only wait pa
tiently for that. No action could come
from him. He could not violate his
pledge to Marie in order to secure him.
self with Madeleine.
Then came the news which stunned
Hilary out Of his mental apathy. Mad
eleine was to marry BrOusseau. II
was to be in three weeks-at Christ
mas, and the banns had been read In
church that Sunday morning for the
first time.
What had happened was this: The
Seigneur had not given his daughter
any sign Of remembrance of the events
that had transpired Immediately be-
fore his stroke, though he was in other
respects normal. save for the paraly-
sis of the left side. But as the weeks
went by he grew more and more
nervous and depressed, until n night
he blurted out:
"Where will you take me after the
estate changes hands? 1 cannot re-
main In st. Boniface, nor a I remain
with yOu and the American. l am too
old to go anywhere but to the grave"
So he had remembered all the timel
Madeleine put her arms about his
neck. 81 am not going to marry Mon
sieur Askew," she answered.
Then, without warning, the old
Seigneur fell to crying and laughing.
as If a tremendous load of care had
been lifted from his shoulders. The
land, which had meant so much to him
all his life, now seemed to be every.
thing, and he interpreted Madeleine's
answer 20 indicate her willingness to
marry Brousseau.
"Well why not?" she thought with
intense bitterness, as she listened.
Have I any other duty now, save to
my fatherf"
She neve doubted her judgment Of
Hilary. The story had been dinned
into her ears by Brousseau since Hill
ary's first visit to Ste. Marie. She had
heard 1t from tradesmen's wives, the
postmistress, until their attachment
was known; then had come silence
and f~urtiveness. And she had scorned
to think Of Its possibility until that
night.
And she had given him his chance
and he had said nothing.
She accepted the situation and sat
down and penned q short, formal let
ter to Brousseau.
He came the next day, driving fr
riously up to the Chateau. He thrust
Robitaille out of his way and pushed
into the living room, where he found
Madeleine. deathly white, seated alone.
waiting for him. He opened his arms
to embrace her.
"Sit down. Edouard," she said with
chilling apathy. II am going to talk
frankly to you. You wish to marry
me?"
g" want you for my WIFE" said
Brousseau. "You know that. You
know / don't think anything of that
affair"--Madeleine WINGED at the word,
but he did not notice it-"with Mon
sieur Askew. The mans a scoundrel,
a thief, and a libertine--"
"I do not wish to hear that, mon
sieur," said Madeleine peremptorily.
"Diable. that's natural enough! And
so that's forgotten" Brousseau could