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'My kinsmen, she now cried, 'what are you about to do? I owe my life to this Frenchman. He has done nothing but good to me. Why should you destroy him? If you wish to be revenged for the attack made upon you, go forward and you will meet twenty-four Frenchman, with whom is the son of the chief who killed your people. Bourassa was too much frightened to oppose the statement.
"Can it be done?" he asked of Varley. "I'll take word to Father Bourassa." "It can be done it will be done," answered Varley absently. "I do not understand the man. He has been in a different sphere of life. He tried to hide it, but the speech occasionally! I wonder." "You wonder if he's worth saving?" Varley shrugged his shoulders impatiently. "No, that's not what I meant."
She stood listening for a few moments, and, under the spell of the fresh, young voice, the homely, heart-searching words, and the intimate sweetness of the woods, the despairing apathy lifted slowly away. She started forwards again with a new understanding, her footsteps quickened. She would go to Father Bourassa. He would understand. She would tell him all.
Bourassa, as apostle of these ideas, lose his personal eminence. But the electors in sympathy with these ideals began to develop views of their own as to the political action required by the times. Their alliance with the Conservatives had brought them no satisfaction.
But within two hours they sent for Varley again, for Meydon was in evident danger. Varley had come, and had now been with the patient for some time. At last the door opened and Varley came in quickly. He beckoned to Mrs. Meydon and to Father Bourassa. "He wishes to speak with you," he said to her. "There is little time."
It was part of his commercial equipment, an asset of his boyhood spent among the peasants on the family estate in Galway. Father Bourassa fanned himself with the black broadbrim hat he wore, and looked benignly but quizzically on the wiry, sharp-faced Irishman. "You t'ink her heart is leetla. But perhaps it is your mind not so big enough to see hein?"
Varley was white. He had been leading his horse and talking to Finden. He mounted quickly now, and was about to ride away, but stopped short again. "Who knows who knows the truth?" he asked. "Father Bourassa and me no others," he answered. "I knew Meydon thirty years ago." There was a moment's hesitation, then Varley said hoarsely, "Tell me tell me all."
"Tigers of the plains" the Sioux were called, and now the tigers' blood was up. They set out to slay the first white man seen. By chance, he was one Bourassa, coasting by himself. Taking him captive, they had tied him to burn him, when a slave squaw rushed out, crying: "What would you do? This Frenchman is a friend of the Sioux! He saved my life! If you desire to be avenged, go farther on!
Sir Wilfrid, rejecting Borden's offer, adhered to his plan of an election on party lines; but he knew that conditions had been powerfully affected by these developments. His position in Quebec was now secure and unchallenged even Bourassa, recognizing the logic of the situation, commended Laurier's leadership to his followers.
It was also attacked by the Nationalists of Quebec, the ultra-colonialists or provincialists, as they might more truly be termed, under the vigorous leadership of Henri Bourassa, as yet another concession to imperialism and to militarism.
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