Jacqueline of Golden RiverEmanuel, V. R. (Victor Rousseau)
Philosophy
Jacqueline of Golden River
Emanuel, V. R. (Victor Rousseau)
Fiction
Next moment he stood cringing before him, his features a mask. Looking
in, I saw a huge stove which nearly filled the interior, and seated
beside it the middle-aged squaw.
"This gentleman will sleep here to-night," said Leroux curtly. "In the
morning at sunrise harness a sleigh for him and M. Lacroix. Adieu, M.
Hewlett," he continued, turning to me. "And be sure your check will
never be presented."
There was something so sinister in his manner that again I felt that
thrill of fear which he seemed able to inspire in me.
He was less human than any man I had known. He impressed me always as
the incarnation of resolute evil. That was his strength--he was both
bad and resolute. If bad men were in general brave, evil would rule
the world as he ruled his. He swung upon his heel and left me.
I went in with Pierre Caribou, and the squaw glided out of the cabin.
There were two couches of the kind they used to call ottomans inside,
which had evidently once formed part of the _chateau_ furnishings for
their faded splendour accorded little with the decrepit interior of the
hut.
I looked at my watch. I had thought it must be midnight, and it was
only eight. Within three hours I had won Jacqueline and lost her
forever. With Leroux in my power, I had yielded and gone away.
And on the morrow I should arrive at Pere Antoine's hut just when he
expected me.
Surely the mockery of fate could go no further!
I sank down on one of the divans and buried my face in my hands, while
Pierre Caribou busied himself preparing food over the stove.
CHAPTER XVI
TEE OLD ANGEL
Presently the Indian touched me on the shoulder and I looked up. He
had a plateful of steaming stew in his hands, and set it down beside me.
"Eat!" he said in English.
I was too dispirited and dejected to obey him at first. But soon I
managed to fall to, and I was surprised to discover how ravenous I was.
I had eaten hardly anything for days, and only a few mouthfuls since
morning.
As I was eating there came a scratching at the door, and the Eskimo-dog
pushed its way into the cabin and came bounding to my side. I stroked
and petted it, and gave it the remnants of my meal, while Pierre
watched us.
"You know him dog?" he asked.
"I saw it in New York," I answered. "It brought me to Mlle.
Jacqueline."
My mind was very much alert just then. It was as though some hidden
monitor within me had taken control to guide me through a maze of
unknown dangers. It was that inner prompting which had forbidden me to
say "Mme. d'Epernay."
I had a consciousness of some impending horror. And I was shaking and
all a sweat--with fear, too--gripping fear!
Yet the old name sounded as sweet as ever to my lips.
The Indian drew the stool near me and sat down. "You meet Mlle.
Jacqueline in New York?" he asked.
"I brought her back," I answered.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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