But this time the snow veil
was very thick before Jan's eyes, and he did not see her face. Only he
heard.
"Bless you, dear Jan, and may God bless you evermore! For you have been
good to me, Jan--so good--to me--"
And he went out into the day again a few moments later, leaving her alone
in her great grief, for Jan was a man in the wild and mannerless ways of
a savage world, and he knew not how to comfort in the fashion of that
other world which had other conceptions and another understanding of what
was to him the "honor of the Beeg Snows." A week later the woman
announced her intention of returning to her people, for the dome of the
earth had grown sad and lonely and desolate to her now that Cummins was
forever gone. Sometimes the death of a beloved friend brings with it the
sadness that spread like a pall over Jan and those others who had lived
very near to contentment and happiness for nearly two years, only each
knew that this grief of his would be as enduring as life itself. For a
brief space the sweetest of all God's things had come among them, a pure
woman who brought with her the gentleness and beauty and hallowed
thoughts of civilization in place of its iniquities, and the pictures in
their hearts were imperishable.
The parting was as simple and as quiet as when the woman had come. They
went to the little cabin where the sledge dogs stood harnessed. Hatless,
silent, crowding back their grief behind grim and lonely countenances,
they waited for Cummins' wife to say good-bye.
Pages:
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207