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Bourassa, was wont to wax furiously indignant over the suggestion, as he put it, that he must "stay on the reservation" if he was to enjoy the privileges that he held to be equally his in whatever part of Canada he might find himself. Events in Ontario put the test of reality to the Nationalist theories.

"Food was absolutely forbidden, but he got it from another patient early this morning while the nurse was out for a moment. It has killed him." "'Twas the least he could do, but no credit's due him. It was to be. I'm not envying Father Bourassa nor her there with him." Varley made no reply. He was watching the receding storm with eyes which told nothing.

The words brought a sense of relief, for if he had failed it would have seemed almost unbearable in the circumstances the cup of trembling must be drunk to the dregs. Few words had passed between them, and he had gone, while she remained behind with Father Bourassa, till the patient should wake from the sleep into which he had fallen when Varley left.

"'Tis the light heart she has, and slippin' in and out of things like a hummin'-bird, no easier to ketch and no longer to stay," said Finden, the rich Irish landbroker, suggestively to Father Bourassa, the huge French-Canadian priest who had worked with her through all the dark weeks of the smallpox epidemic, and who knew what lay beneath the outer gayety.

Ten years before, she would not have appreciated or understood him, this intellectual, clean-shaven, rigidly abstemious man, whose pleasures belonged to the fishing-rod and the gun and the horse, and who had come to be so great a friend of him who had been her best friend Father Bourassa.

The Government had to face what Sir Wilfrid Laurier termed "the unholy alliance" of Roman Catholic Nationalists under Bourassa in Quebec and Protestant Imperialists in Ontario. In the French-speaking districts the Government was denounced for allowing Canada to be drawn into the vortex of militarism and imperialism and for sacrificing the interests of Roman Catholic schools in the West.

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."

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."

Account must be taken also of the resentment caused by exaggerated versions of the treatment accorded the French-Canadian minority in the schools of Ontario and the West, and especially of the teaching of the Nationalists, led by Henri Bourassa, who opposed active Canadian participation in the war.

But as she moved along the river-bank among the trees, she met the little niece of the priest, who lived in his house, singing as though she was born but to sing, a song which Finden had written and Father Bourassa had set to music. Did not the distant West know Father Bourassa's gift, and did not Protestants attend Mass to hear him play the organ afterwards?