Canada -- Fiction; Frontier and pioneer life -- Ontario -- Fiction
But the thought that he might not be guilty returned to her,
insistently. It was on her part a change of thought that was not due
to carefully reasoned considerations, to any deep study of conditions,
for when she tried to argue the matter out she became involved in a
thousand contradictions and her head would begin to ache in dizzy
fashion. Rather it was some sort of instinct, one of the conclusions
so often and quickly reached by the feminine mind and apt, in spite of
everything, to prove accurate and reliable.
"Mrs. Papineau," she said, suddenly, "I think I will go over there
now. I--I have rested long enough and the fresh air will be good for
me. I will come back very soon, I suppose, but if--if Mr. Ennis should
be ill you will find me there."
Her proposal was assented to without the slightest objection. The good
woman insisted on furnishing her with footwear better suited to the
tote-road than the boots she wore. On the trail the snow would be
fairly well beaten down and there would be little need of snowshoes if
she picked her way carefully. She could not lose her way. Still, it
might be as well for one of the children to go with her. People who
were not used to the woods sometimes strayed off a trail and got in
trouble.
Under escort of the second oldest girl Madge started, briskly. She had
covered but a short distance before she wondered that she felt so
strong and well. The plain substantial food she had eaten and the
bright, stimulating air were filling her with a new life. She walked
along quite fast, for she was now anxious to see this man again. If
she had been wrong she wanted to make amends. But what if he were very
ill? She thought of the lonely little shack and the lack of any
comfort and care within it. He might be lying there helplessly, with
only a dog for a companion. At every turn of the little road she
looked ahead, keenly, thinking that perhaps she might meet him on his
way to the Papineau's. As she hurried on she felt that the house had
perhaps been too warm and it was splendid to be walking beneath the
snow-laden trees, to see the little clouds of her breath going out
into the frosty air and to hear the crackling of the clean snow under
her feet.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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