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Updated: May 26, 2025
He wondered if there would be much of Miss M'Gann in the future, their future, and he longed to get away, to take Alves and fly. He was tired; the sun was relentless. But he must make arrangements to sell his horse as soon as possible, and to give up his rooms. For the first time in his life he was conscious that he wanted to talk with a man, to see some friend.
She could hear the stairs creak under Mrs. Preston's quick steps; then there was silence; then an angry voice, a man's voice. Excited by this mystery, she rose noiselessly and set the hall door ajar. She could hear Alves Preston's voice: "You must not come down. You aren't fit." "Thank you for your advice," a man's voice replied. "Who's your visitor? Some man? I am going to see.
Alves came out to the portico to meet the stranger, who hastened her leisurely pace on catching sight of a person in the temple. At the foot of the rickety steps the stranger stopped. "You are Miss Hitchcock," Alves said quickly. "Won't you come in?" "How did you know!" Miss Hitchcock exclaimed, and added without waiting for a reply: "Let's sit here on the steps the sun is so warm and nice.
The perpetual groaning of the laboring ice, the rending and riving of the great fields, could be heard as far inshore as the temple all through the still night. Early every morning Sommers with Alves would start for the lake. At this hour only an occasional fisherman could be seen, cutting fresh holes in the ice and setting his lines.
He was preparing to make the daily trip to the post-office on the other side of Perota Lake. "The Chicago schools open this year on the tenth," Alves continued slowly. "What difference does that make?" For reply Alves took from the drawer of the table the old leather purse that was their bank. The mute action made Sommers smile, but he opened the purse and counted the bills.
"You know as well as I," Alves cried, terrified now by the mysterious air the woman assumed. "Yes!" Mrs. Ducharme whispered again. "I know as well as you. I know, and I can tell. I know how the wife gave him powders, sleeping powders the doctor ordered, the doctor who was hanging around, and ran off with her just after the funeral."
'Alves, Alves, he murmured in his heart, 'only you who have suffered can love. It seemed that an answering wave of color swept over her pale face. There was a movement. The service was ended. The burial was the only thing that remained to be done. Sommers went to the cemetery with the minister and Dr. Leonard. He did not wish to be with Alves until they could be alone.
My entertainer, the only white in the place, and one of my best and most constant friends, Senor Innocencio Alves Faria, one day proposed a half- day's fishing with net in the lake the expanded bed of the small river on which the village is situated. We set out in an open boat with six Indians and two of Innocencio's children.
But his practised eyes saw more surely than Alves, and he judged that her conduct had been the result of mental derangement. Probably the blow over the eye, from which she was suffering when she came to Lindsay's office, had hurt the brain. Otherwise, she would not have been silly enough to go to Alves with her foolish story.
Alves regretted that she had turned back from the ice. Mrs. Ducharme showed no sign of life until Alves reached the steps. She was worn and unkempt. A ragged straw hat but partly disguised her rumpled hair. Alves recalled what Miss M'Gann had said about her drinking. "I've been to see you two, three times," Mrs. Ducharme said, in a hoarse, grumbling tone; "but you'se always out.
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