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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."
"Oh, it's Meydon, is it, that bad case I heard of to-day?" The priest nodded again and 'pointed. "Voila, Madame Meydon, she is coming. She has seen him her hoosban'." Finden's eyes followed the gesture. The little widow of Jansen was coming from the hospital, walking slowly towards the river. "As purty a woman, too as purty and as straight bewhiles. What is the matter with him with Meydon?"
But yet, what right had she to sacrifice this man she loved to the perverted criminal who had spoiled her youth and taken away from her every dear illusion of her life and heart? By every right of justice and humanity she was no more the wife of Henry Meydon than if she had never seen him.
He was hanging between life and death; and now for he was going to-morrow Varley would speak again. The half-hour she had just spent in the hospital with Meydon had tried her cruelly.
Her eyes scarcely saw him, as she left the room and passed to where Meydon lay nerveless, but with wide-open eyes, waiting for her. The eyes closed, however, before she reached the bed. Presently they opened again, but the lids remained fixed. He did not hear what she said. In the little waiting-room, Finden said to Varley, "What happened?"
She had left the building in a vortex of conflicting emotions, with the call of duty and of honor ringing through a thousand other voices of temptation and desire, the inner pleadings for a little happiness while yet she was young. After she married Meydon, there had only been a few short weeks of joy before her black disillusion came, and she had realized how bitter must be her martyrdom.
But yet, what right had she to sacrifice this man she loved to the perverted criminal who had spoiled her youth and taken away from her every dear illusion of her life and heart? By every right of justice and humanity she was no more the wife of Henry Meydon than if she had never seen him.
Meydon, Father Bourassa, and Finden stood in the little waiting-room of the hospital at Jansen, one at each window, and watched the wild thunderstorm which had broken over the prairie.
He had ridden back from the prairie as the sun was setting the night before, and had made all arrangements at the hospital, giving orders that Meydon should have no food whatever till the operation was performed the next afternoon, and nothing to drink except a little brandy-and-water.
"You have not tell any one never?" Finden laughed. "Though I'm not a priest, I can lock myself up as tight as anny. There's no tongue that's so tied, when tying's needed, as the one that babbles most bewhiles. Babbling covers a lot of secrets." "So you t'ink it better Meydon should die, as Hadley is away and Brydon is sick-hein?" "Oh, I think "
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