The Lane That Had No Turning, Volume 1.

ncing a pleasure, and to give spirit to the gaiety that filled the old house. The occasion was a notable one for Pontiac. An address of congratulation and appreciation and

ands; he had forborne much; and by an act of noble forgiveness and generosity, had left Louis undisturbed in an honour which was not his, and the enjoyment of an estate to which he had no claim. He had given much, suffered much, and had had nothing in return save her measureless and voiceless gratitude. Friendship she could give him; but it was a silent friendship, an incompaniona

ts could be better exercised in applauding Madelinette and in show of welcome to the great men of the land, than in cultivating a dangerous patriotism under the leadership of Louis Racine. Temptations to conspiracy had been few since the day George Fournel, wounded and morose, left the Manor House secretly one night, and carried back to Quebec his resentment and his injuries. Treasonable gossip filtered no longer from doorway to doorw

smile; the angry to be coaxed by a humorous word; the evil to be reproved by a fearless friendliness; the spiteful to be hushed by a still, commanding presence. She never seemed to remember that she was the daughter of old Joe Lajeunesse the blacksmith, yet she never seeme

; to the outward world serene and happy, full of simplicity, charity, and good works. What it was in reality no one could know, not even herself. Since the day when Louis had tried to kill George Fournel, life had been a different thing for them both. On her part she had been deeply hurt; wounded beyond repair. He had failed her

uggested to him the sacrifices she had made. He knew them, still he did not know them in their fulness; he was grateful, but his gratitude did not compass the splendid self-effacing devotion with which she denied herself the glorious career that had lain before her. Morbid and self-centred, he could not understand. Since her return from Quebec she had sought to give a little t

idea of the torture it meant to her; no realisation of how she would be brought face to face with the life that she had given up for his sake. But neither he nor she was aware of one thin

ll she had lost, and the tyranny of the present bore down upon her with a cruel weight. It needed all her courage and all her innate strength to rule herself to composure. For an instant the people i

e out her thanks for the gift of silver and the greater gift of kind words; and said that in her quiet life, apart from that active world of the stage, where sorrow and sordid experience went hand in hand with song, where the delights of home were s

with dancing well begun, no one would have thought that the Manor of Pontiac was not the home of peace and joy. Even Louis himself, who had had his moments of torture and suspicion when the appeal was read, was now in a kind of happ

e had forgiven and forgotten? It was not like the man to either forgive or forget. What did it mean? He left the house buried in morbid speculation, and involuntarily made his way to a little hut of two rooms which he had built in the Seigneury grounds. Here it was he read and wrote, here he had spent moody hours alone, day

the astonished and suspicious Seigneur had chance

sieu'! Fine doing

here?" asked the Seigneur, scanning the face of the man c

right to be here

ere. You were dismissed your plac

mistress of

cine dismi

me Racine," answered

the horsewhip. You for

give you summa

reference to his physical disability. His fingers itched to take the creature by the throat, and c

s, and your courts, and

you could, wouldn't you

! A puling baby could c

orld laughing

d take your feet from my

quietness, "or it wil

ugh. "Your Manor? You haven't any Manor. You ha

white, and the eyes shone fiery in his head. He felt some shameful me

u have taken wages from me, and eate

than you have. Pish! You were living then on another ma

ere was a strange light of suspicion in his

never lived on another man's fortune. If you mea

laughed hatefully. "There

e heard that fool

ife; she knows. Ask your

that, in his own ears, seemed to come from an infinite di

? The price is the same, and you keep your eyes shut and play th

vely on the embossed address he had been rolling and unrolling. A terror, a shame, a dreadful

e said. "You sha

or putting his feet in his shoes, and for that case at law, for nothing? Why should he? He hated you, and you hated him. His name's o

t his brain was like some great lens, refractin

as found?

u' Fournel. She followed. You remember when she went-eh? On business- and such business! she and Havel and the old slut Marie. You remember, eh; Louis?" he added with unnamable insolence. The Seigneur in

what stuff they are both made of! He laughed at me, said I had lied; that there was no will; that I was a thief; and had me locked up in gaol. For a month I was in gaol without trial. Then one day I was let out without trial. His servant met me and brought me to his house. He gave me money a

Seigneur quietly. "You don

e for him and for her! And I'm even with you too-bah! Did you think she cared a fig for you? She's only waiting till you die. Then she'll go to her lover. He's a man of life and limb. Youpish! a hunchback, that

him across the floor, and, opening the door of the small inner room, pulled him inside. For a moment he stood beside the body, panting, then he went to the other room and, bringing a candle, looked at the dead thing in silence. Presently he stooped, held the candle to the wide-staring eyes, then felt the heart. "He is gone," he

er the trees by the window, but his mind was not concerned with

r and in the flush of this gaiety and excitement, there was something of that exhilarating air that greets the singer upon the stage. Her eyes were shining with a look, half-sorrowful, half-triumphant. Within the past hal

the piano as she sang-sang more touchingly and more humanly, if not more artistically, than she had ever done in her life. The old art was not so perfect, perhaps, but there was in the voice all that she had learned and loved and suffered and hoped. When she rose from the piano to a storm of applause, and saw the shining faces a

tunes you played on your

ture he made, made her way through the crowd to the hall-way, and followed him up the stairs, and to the little boudoir beside her bedroom. As she entered and shut the door, a low so

ted after him mechanically, staring a

d behind the pictu

and made a gesture o

Tardif stole it and

matter, dear! I cannot bear that look i

ollowed. And I have been living in an

no! Our money ha

adelinette!" H

make no difference. I did not want you to know-you loved the Seigneury so. I concealed the will; Tardif found it,

n's trouble, this man's peace, if she migh

e said that you-tha

k back in terror, then with a flush, straig

ld not care for a hunchback l

, in a voice of an

e said it, as I believe in you now when you stand

g how you loved the Seigneury- pleaded a

seemed listening to noises with out- "I see what you have done for me. I know how you have sacrificed all for me-all but honour-all but honour," he added, a wild fire in h

. He snatched her to his breast, and kissed her twice in a very agony of joy, then let her

em? They are coming to take me; but they shall not have me. They shall not h

emed mad, a strange quiet sanity was in all he did. "What have you

e hut in the garden-dead! I was see

he door that led into t

then turned he

asped. "Louis! Louis!"

I could do, and I did it. He slander

the door, and a voice ca

me. I will not be dragged to gaol for crowds to jeer

room and flung it open. "If my

owards him, stretc

" was all that

ttle bath-room, and locked the door, as the door of the room she was in wa

ing, and white, and anguished, and her ears straine

e him. You shall not have him. Ah, don't you hear? He is dying-O God, O God!" she cr

muffled groaning. She trembled, but her arms were spread out before the door as though on a

thing. In the room men shrank back, for they knew that death was behind the l

them with a gesture of

not have

the Cure and George Fournel entered the room. The

he bath-room, and himself, bursting the door open, entered.

ot have him now. You h

e man he killed. I knew

too late," he

of her dear mistress, and in another room, George Fournel, with the Avocat, kept watch beside the b

………

hen she died a quarter of a century ago. For thirty years he followed her from capital to capital of Europe and America to hear her sing; and to this day h

ITOR'S B

soon! Ah, le

hurt s

k that she was givin

she might never hav

of ideas, the v

le, moody, chival

l ruled him with

ove in which

ory, I'll shoe their

les in hollo

do with ugliness o

, or anywhere, gets a

for its

in one way and

conscience a