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"It is two o'clock," said Philip. "How far have we to go, Jean?" "It is not the distance, M'sieur it is that," replied Jean, as a wave sent another dash of water over Josephine. "We are twenty miles from Adare House." Philip looked at Josephine. "It is best for you to go ashore and wait until to-morrow, Josephine. Look at that stretch of water ahead a mass of whitecaps."
Adare straightened with a sudden idea: "On that day we shall have a great anniversary feast," he declared. "We will ask every soul red and white for a hundred miles about, with the exception of the rogues over at Thoreau's Place! What do you say, Philip?" "Splendid!" cried Philip, catching triumphantly at this straw in the face of Josephine's plans for him.
The convents of Longford, Portumna, Tulsk, Burishool, Thomastown, and Gola were established for the Dominicans; Kilconnell, Askeaton, Enniscorthy, Moyne, Adare, Monaghan, Donegal, and Dungannon for the Franciscans; Dunmore, Naas, Murrisk and Callan for the Augustinians, and Rathmullen, Frankfort, Castle-Lyons and Galway for the Carmelites.
A few hours' rest had brightened her eyes and brought colour into her face. She looked still younger, still more beautiful. And Adare was riotous with joy because of it. "Look at your mother, Josephine," he commanded in a hoarse whisper, meant for all to hear. "I said the forests would do more than a thousand doctors in Montreal!"
The promptness and quiet decisiveness of Jean's answer amazed him. "Yes, M'sieur, I am. But the shot was not for you. It was intended for the master of Adare House. When I heard the shot to-night I did not know what it meant. A little later I came to your room and found the broken window and the bullet mark in the wall. This is M'sieur Adare's old room, and the bullet was intended for him.
Jean gave little rest that day, and by noon they had covered twenty miles of the lake-way. An hour for dinner, and they went on. At times Josephine used her paddle, and not once during the day did she sit with her face to Philip. Late in the afternoon they camped on a portage fifty miles from Adare House. There were no stars or moon in the sky this night.
So when Adare's eyes rested upon him in a moment's silence, he said: "Last night Jean and I were standing beside her grave. It seemed then as though he would have been happier if he had lain near her under the cross." "You are wrong," said Adare quickly. "Death is beautiful when there is a perfect love.
Behind him rumbled the deep, joyous voice of the master of Adare House, and passing through the door he glanced behind and saw them following, Adare's arm about his wife's waist. Josephine caught Philip's arm, and whispered in a low voice: "They are always like that, always lovers. They are like two wonderful children, and sometimes I think it is too beautiful to be true.
Philip thrust a hand inside his fang-torn coat and pulled out a long envelope. It was addressed to the master of Adare. He staggered to his feet, and went to Thoreau. In his pocket he found the second envelope. Father George was close beside him as he thrust the two in his own pocket. He turned to the forest men, who stood like figures turned to stone, gazing upon the scene of the tragedy.
He says that unless he receives word of Josephine's surrender within a week the crash will come, the paper will be given to the master of Adare. And now, M'sieur Philip, what do you have to say?" "That there never was a game lost until it was played to the end," replied Philip, and he drew nearer to look straight and steadily into the half-breed's eyes. "Go on, Jean.
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