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Updated: June 21, 2025
Ainley loved her; but now, if he were the last man left in the world, she would never A sound of movement interrupted her reverie, and she half-turned as Stane rose from his spruce-couch. "You have heard nothing?" he asked. "Nothing!" she replied. "I will take the watch now, Miss Yardely, and do you lie down and rest."
"The man must have lied to me," he said, "or have told me only half the truth, but he must have seen you, or how did he know that the man who was with you was Stane?" "Perhaps he was the man who stole our canoe," said Helen. "Yes," answered Ainley, "that will be it. But " he broke off without finishing.
Stane looked forward through the open doorway, and standing near the long counter, watching a tall Indian bartering with the factor, saw the beautiful Indian girl from the neighbouring camp. He nodded an affirmative, and seeing an opportunity to obtain information turned and spoke to the man. "Yes, but that girl there with Mr. Ainley " "Oui, m'sieu. But she no squaw-girl.
It was that of a white man, who could be no other than Stane!" Helen flinched at the answer which confirmed what the half-breed had said to her about Stane being dead. She looked away, not wishing Ainley to see her face at that moment, whilst the hot tears welled in her eyes, and the man, choosing to disregard her manifest sorrow, continued his story.
"But I am not trying the case, Ainley, I am only making the necessary inquiries that I may make my report at the Post. And I had better warn you that you may have a little trouble about this matter. Things in the North here are not like they were a few years back, when any wandering white man felt himself justified in potting any Indian whose presence he considered inimical.
This way I have a team waiting for you. We must take to the woods." He took her arm, and began to hurry through the blinding snow. Helen, bewildered by the swift turn of events, did not resist, but moved forward with him, and in a couple of minutes found herself standing by a sled-team guarded by a couple of Indians. "Get on the sledge, Helen," said Ainley, brusquely. "There is no time to waste.
The grey eyes looked steadily into his for a moment, then a thoughtful look crept into them, and Ainley knew that for the moment he had lost. "No," she said slowly, "no, I am not sure that would be wise. I do not feel as I ought to feel in taking such a decision as that. And besides " "Yes?" he said, urgently, as she paused. "Yes?"
Ainley was really anxious to avoid answering your questions, it does not seem to me so inherently improbable as you appear to think." "What convinces you of that, Miss Yardely?" "Well," she replied quickly, "you say the Indian told you that it was an order. I ask myself whose order? There were very few people at Fort Malsun to give orders. I think of them in turn. The factor?
Presently it came in sight, and between walls of spruce and a foaming crest of water they swept into the broader river, which rolled its turbid way towards its outfall in one of the great Northern lakes. The canoe pranced like a frightened horse at the meeting of the waters, and when they were safely through it, Ainley looked back and questioned his companion.
To put the matter briefly, transference of burden had been effected; Mrs. Hilary had laid all her cares, all her perplexities, all her grief, upon this quiet, acute-looking man, who sat with her twice a week for an hour, drawing her out, arranging her symptoms for her, penetrating the hidden places of her soul, looking like a cross between Sherlock Holmes and Mr. Henry Ainley.
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