"But, Man-Andy, how can I? If only I could have kissed him just once so he could have remembered——" And then Donelle broke down. She relaxed in Law’s arms; she clung to him sobbing softly, wildly. "Why, Man-Andy, I’m going to remember always that I couldn’t give him what he deserved most in all the world." "My dear, my dear! You gave him of your best, he understands that now as he could not before." "And oh!" here Donelle lifted her tear-stained face, "I’m so thankful I did not bar the door against him." Law thought her mind was wandering. "What door, child?" he asked. "This door, the night we were married. He—he knew, I am sure he knew, as he watched outside, that I trusted him." Law’s eyes dropped. "Your husband was a big man," was all he said. *CHAPTER XXII* *NORVAL COMES BACK* Anderson Law was sawing wood behind Mam’selle’s little white house. He was mighty proud of his success in manual labour; to help Jo with her wood pile was a delight, altruistically and vaingloriously. The summer with its heart throbs had made people indifferent to the winter on ahead, but the days were growing colder and shorter and even the most careless were aware that some provision must be made at once if one were to escape needless suffering. Law was thinking as he worked, and occasionally wiped the perspiration from his brow. There were so many things to think about in Point of Pines; to think about, smile about tenderly, and grieve about. There was old Pierre, the Redeemed, he was called now. Since Tom’s going the wretched father had ceased drinking, was housed by Father Mantelle, and had fallen into a gentle, vague state that called forth pity and tolerance. Early and late he was on the highway with his shovel or rake making the road easy for the feet of his boy! If any one came over the hill into Point of Pines the wandering, bleary eyes would be raised and the one question would break from the trembling lips: "Have you seen my Tom?" If any one went away over the hill, Pierre had a message: "Tell my Tom I’m filling in the ruts. He won’t find it such hard travelling when he comes back." Anderson Law often kept old Gavot company—for Tom’s sake. Even Mam’selle had forgiven him and, quite secretly, helped the priest in his generous support. The Longvilles, the Captain at least, had forsaken Pierre. Marcel, poor soul, gave what, and when, she could. As Law bent to his task at the wood pile, the priest hailed him from the road. "I go now," he explained as he declined the invitation to enter, "to pray for rain. The forest fires are bad, but until the crops were in I would not pray." So simply did the curé say this that Law refrained from smiling, but he did say, looking afar to where the heavy smoke-cloud hung above the trees: "Ah! well, Father, now that the harvest is in, you had better give the Lord a free hand or there will be a sad pay-day on ahead."