She buried her face on the covering of the bed and her voice came muffled and choking.
“That night at the factory steps,--you recall, M'sieu,--she came to you,--I saw her in the dusk as she turned at the corner, a rod away, saw her and knew with some touch of deviltry the sudden way of keeping you from her, your arms from about her, your lips from hers! Oh, that I could not bear, M'sieu! Not though I died for it! So I threw my own arms about your throat--you remember, M'sieu--and whispered that for one kiss I would go and forget. In the gentleness of your heart you kissed me--and--she saw that kiss. Saw me lying in your arms as if you held me there from love,--saw and turned away. She made no sound in the soft dust, and when I loosed your face from my clasp she was gone! So I broke your faith, M'sieu,--so I dragged forth one by one all the sorry happenings that have followed that evil night.”
The muffled voice fell silent, save for the sobs that would no longer be withheld, and there was an awful stillness in the room, broken by a stick falling on the hearth and the added roar in the chimney.
When Francette raised her weeping eyes she saw McElroy's face above her like a mask.
Its lips were open as if breath had suddenly been denied them, its wasted cheeks were blue, and its eyes stared down upon her in horror:
She screamed and sprang up, to run back and crouch against the empty chair beside the hearth.
The figure upon the bed, half-risen, worked its lips and then fell back, and the little maid raised her voice and screamed again and again in mortal terror.
It brought Rette running from where she had waited in the trading-room.
She raised him, and her face was red with rage.
“What have you done! You evil cat! What have you done to the man?”
But McElroy's breast had heaved with a great breath, sweet as the wind over a harvest field to a tired man, and he looked up at Rette with eyes that seemed to be suddenly flooded with life.
“Done?” he whispered; “done, Rette? The child has given me salvation!” And then he held out a shaking, thin hand.
“Come here,” he said softly; “come here.”
Fearful, trembling, tear-stained Francette crept back, and the factor took both her small hands in a tender clasp: