CHAPTER XXII
HER PROMISE
Gravois did not stay to see the effect of his last words. Only he knew,as he went through the door, that her eyes were following him, and thatif he looked at her she would call him back. So he shut the doorquickly behind him, fearing that he had already said too much.
Cummins and Jan came in together at suppertime. The factor was in highhumor. An Indian from the Porcupine had brought in two silver fox thatmorning, and he was immensely pleased at Jan's return--a combination ofincidents which put him in the best of moods.
Melisse sat opposite Jan at the table. She had twisted a sprig of redbakneesh into her glossy braid, and a cluster of it nestled at herthroat, but Jan gave no sign that he had noticed this little favor,which was meant entirely for him. He smiled at her, but there was aclear coolness in the depths of his dark eyes which checked any of theold familiarity on her part.
"Has MacVeigh put in his new trap-line?" Cummins inquired, after askingJan many questions about his trip.
"I don't know," replied Jan. "I didn't go to MacVeighs'."
Purposely he held his eyes from Melisse. She understood his effort, anda quick flush gathered in her cheeks.
"It was MacVeigh who brought in word of you," persisted the factor,oblivious of the effect of his questions.
"I met him in the Cree Lake country, but he said nothing of histrap-lines."
He rose from the table with Cummins, and started to follow him from thecabin. Melisse came between. For a moment her hand rested upon his arm.
"You are going to stay with me, Jan," she smiled. "I want your helpwith the dishes, and then we're going to play on the violin."
She pulled him into a chair as Cummins left, and tied an apron abouthis shoulders.
"Close your eyes--and don't move!" she commanded, laughing into hissurprised face as she ran into her room.
A moment later she returned with one hand held behind her back. The hotblood surged through Jan's veins when he felt her fingers runninggently through his long hair. There came the snip of scissors, a littlenervous laugh close to his head, and then again the snip, snip, snip ofthe scissors.
"It's terribly long, Jan!" Her soft hand brushed his bearded cheek."Ugh!" she shuddered. "You must take that off your face. If you don't--"
"Why?" he asked, through lack of anything else to say.
She lowered her head until her cheek pressed against his own.
"Because it feels like bristles," she whispered.
She reddened fiercely when he remained silent, and the scissors snippedmore rapidly between her fingers.
"I'm going to prospect the big swamp along the edge of the Barrens thissummer," he explained soon, laughing to relieve the tension. "A beardwill protect me from the black flies."
"You can grow another."
She took the apron from about his shoulders, and held it so that hecould see the result of her work. He looked up, smiling.
"Thank you, Melisse. Do you remember when you last cut my hair?"
"Yes--it was over on the mountain. We had taken the scissors along forcutting bakneesh, and you looked so like a wild Indian that I made yousit on a rock and let me trim it."
"And you cut my ear," he reminded.
"For which you made me pay," she retorted quickly, almost under herbreath.
She went to the cupboard behind the stove, and brought out her father'sshaving-mug and razor.
"I insist that you shall use them," she said, stirring the soap into alather, and noting the indecision in his face. "I am afraid of you!"
"Afraid of me?"
He stood for a moment in front of the little mirror, turning his facefrom side to side. Melisse handed him the razor and cup.
"You don't seem like the Jan that I used to know once upon a time.There has been a great change in you since--since--"
She hesitated.
"Since when, Melisse?"
"Since the day we came in from the mountain and I put up my hair." Withtimid sweetness she added: "I haven't had it up again, Jan."
She caught a glimpse of his lathered face in the glass, staring at herwith big, seeking eyes. He turned them quickly away when he saw thatshe was looking, and Melisse set to work at the dishes. She had washedthem before he finished shaving. Then she took down the old violin fromthe wall and began to play, her low, sweet voice accompanying theinstrument in a Cree melody which Iowaka had taught her during Jan'sabsence at Nelson House and the Wholdaia.
Surprised, he faced her, his eyes glowing as there fell from her lipsthe gentle love-song of a heart-broken Indian maiden, filled with itsinfinite sadness and despair. He knew the song. It was a lyric of theCrees. He had heard it before, but never as it came to him now, sobbingits grief in the low notes of the violin, speaking to him withimmeasurable pathos from the trembling throat of Melisse.
He stood silent until she had finished, staring down upon her bowedhead. When she lifted her eyes to him, he saw that her long lashes werewet and glistening in the lamp-glow.
"It is wonderful, Melisse! You have made beautiful music for it."
"Thank you, Jan."
She played again, her voice humming with exquisite sweetness thewordless music which he had taught her. At last she gave him the violin.
"Now you must play for me."
"I have forgotten a great deal, Melisse."
She was astonished to see how clumsily his brown fingers traveled overthe strings. As she watched him, her heart thrilled uneasily. It wasnot the old Jan who was playing for her now, but a new Jan, whose eyesshone dull and passionless, in whom there was no stir of the old spiritof the violin. He wandered listlessly from one thing to another, andafter a few minutes gave her the instrument again.
Without speaking, she rose from her chair and hung the violin upon thewall.
"You must practise a great deal," she said quietly.
At her movement he, too, rose from his seat; and when she turned to himagain he had his cap in his hand. A flash of surprise shot into hereyes.
"Are you going so soon, Jan?"
"I am tired," he said in excuse. "It has been two days since I haveslept, Melisse. Good night!"
He smiled at her from the door, but the "Good night" which fell fromher lips was lifeless and unmeaning. Jan shivered when he went out.Under the cold stars he clenched his hands, knowing that he had comefrom the cabin none too soon.
Choking back the grief of this last meeting with Melisse, he crossed tothe company store.
It was late when Cummins returned home. Melisse was still up. He lookedat her sharply over his shoulder as he hung up his coat and hat.
"Has anything come between you and Jan?" he asked suddenly. "Why haveyou been crying?"
"Sometimes the tears come when I am playing the violin, father. I knowof nothing that has come between Jan and me, only I--I don'tunderstand--"
She stopped, struggling hard to keep back the sobs that were tremblingin her throat.
"Neither do I understand," exclaimed the factor, going to the stove tolight his pipe. "He gave me his resignation as a paid servant of thecompany tonight!"
"He is not going--to leave--the post?" breathed Melisse.
"He is leaving the service," reiterated her father. "That means he cannot long live at Lac Bain. He says he is going into the woods, perhapsinto Jean's country of the Athabasca. Has he told you more?"
"Nothing," said Melisse.
She was upon her knees in front of the little bookcase. A blinding filmburned in her eyes. She caught her breath, struggling hard to masterherself before she faced her father again. For a moment the factor wentinto his room, and she took this opportunity of slipping into her own,calling "Good night" to him from the partly closed door.
The next day it was Croisset who went along the edge of the Barrens formeat. Gravois found Jan filling a new shoulder-pack with supplies. Itwas their first encounter since he had learned that Jan had given upthe service.
"Diable!" he fairly hissed, standing over him as he
packed his flourand salt in a rubber bag. "Diable, I say, M. Jan Thoreau!"
Jan looked up, smiling, to see the little Frenchman fairly quiveringwith rage.
"Bon jour, M. Jean de Gravois!" he laughed back. "You see I am goingout among the foxes."
"The devils!" snapped Jean.
"No, the foxes, my dear Jean. I am tired of the post. I can make betterwage for my time in the swamps to the west. Think of it, Jean! It hasbeen many years since you have trapped there, and the foxes must beeating up the country!"
Jean's thin lips were almost snarling. "Blessed saints, and it was Iwho--"
He spun upon his heels without another word, and went straight toMelisse.
"Jan Thoreau is going to leave the post," he announced fiercely,throwing out his chest and glaring at her accusingly.
"So father has told me," said Melisse.
Her cheeks were colorless, and there were purplish lines under hereyes, but she spoke with exceeding calmness.
"Mon Dieu!" exclaimed Jean, whirling again, "you take it coolly!"
A little later Melisse saw Jan coming from the store. When he enteredthe cabin his dark face betrayed the strain under which he waslaboring, but his voice was unnaturally calm.
"I have come to say good-by, Melisse," he said. "I am going to prospectfor a good trap-line among the Barrens."
"I hope you will have good luck, Jan."
In her voice, too, was a firmness almost metallic.
For the first time in his life Jan held out his hand to her. Shestarted, and for an instant the blood surged from her heart to herface. Then she gave him her own and looked him squarely andunflinchingly in the eyes.
"Will you wait a moment?" she asked.
She hurried into her room, and scarcely had she gone before shereappeared again, this time with a flush burning in her cheeks and hereyes shining brightly. She had unbraided her hair, and it lay coiledupon the crown of her head, glistening with crimson sprigs of bakneesh.She came to him a second time, and once more gave him her hand.
"I don't suppose you care now," she said coldly, and yet laughing inhis face. "I have not broken my promise. It was silly, wasn't it?"
He felt as if his blood had been suddenly chilled to water, and hefought to choke back the thick throbbing in his throat.
"You promised--" He could not go further.
"I promised that I would not do up my hair again until you hadforgotten to love me," she finished for him. "I will do it up now."
He bowed his head, and she could see his shoulders quiver under theirthick caribou coat. Her tense lips parted, and she raised her arms asif on the point of stretching them out to him; but his voice cameevenly, without a quiver, yet filled with the dispassionate truth ofwhat he spoke.
"I have not forgotten to love you, Melisse. I shall never cease to lovemy little sister. But you are older now, and it is time for you to doup your hair."
He turned, without looking at her again, leaving her standing with herarms still half stretched out to him, and went from the cabin.
"Good-by, Jan!"
The words fell in a sobbing whisper from her, but he had gone too farto hear. Through the window she saw him shake hands with Cummins infront of the company's store. She watched him as he went to the cabinof Iowaka and Jean. Then she saw him shoulder his pack, and, with bowedhead, disappear slowly into the depths of the black spruce forest.
The Honor of the Big Snows Page 22
