Argosy and Railroad Man's Magazine — page 98: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

440 ARGOSY AND RAILROAD MAN’S MAGAZINE, “Dreaming of your good luck, my Jacques,” she suggested, moving to his side. “Ts it true, as they say, that you have bought a hundred cords of pulp wood for three dollars less than the regular price?” “Yes.” He refused to meet her eyes, preferring to stare off into the blue-and- white regions south of the St. Lawrence. “Old Didace Parent was glad to sell. He made a just profit. This year it is almost impossible to get men and teams to bring wood out of the mountains—and I have them.” ““ What luck for us!” “But ”’—Grondin drew a breath that was very nearly a groan— there is the matter of Henri Painchaud to be con- sidered.” “ Jacques!”” Her voice rang sharply. “What folly are you going to do now?” “You see,” he began, trying to get hold of a much-rehearsed explanation, “ Pain- chaud is not young any more, and he*has a very old father and mother who are so feeble that they need a hired woman to look after them. He has had bad luck, and—” “Tell me the worst of it first!” she de- manded. “Are you going to give him the wood?” “But, no!” protested Grondin. ‘ Not at all! I am merely going to turn over the contract to him so that he can make the profit.” “T thought no one but you had the horses and men to handle it?” “But, you see, he can take mine—” “ Dieu seigneur! Tt is a miracle of the good God that you have a house and clothes to wear!” “ Painchaud has had bad luck this year,” he repeated, “ and his father and mother are very old. What could I do?” “It is true that Heaven has given you no sense at all!” The storm he had feared was gathering. “Charity, yes! But this is more folly than I believed even you knew how to commit!” “Tt will help him through a hard win- ter,” persisted Grondin. ‘‘ There are doc- tors’ bills—” “Jacques Grondin!”’ She struck his bulging chest with a tiny mitten until he looked her in the eyes. “ Can he pay you back?” “Ith, bien! He might.” “He might! Mon Dieu! Listen to me! Never after this day will I, Céleste Rigaud, speak to you, if you do this thing!” Misery filled him like a great sickness. She was terribly angry or she would not have said it, and he knew that the anger would pass. But he also knew that she would keep to her word, even though it had been spoken when rage had made her forget their love. He hesitated—for not to lie was a part of his madness—and as he hesitated, with blood pounding in his temples and a mist before his eyes, Céleste faded, and in her place he saw undersized Henri Painchaud, his cheeks sunken beneath a week’s stubble, and his eyes with the look of a wounded rabbit. “Painchaud is not a strong man ”— Grondin licked dry lips—‘‘ and he has had bad luck!” The mist cleared away, and he saw Céleste again — Céleste, whose warm, red mouth had said it would not speak to him. The wrath that had darkened her face had departed, leaving a questioning, speculative look. “T said that I, Céleste Rigaud, would never speak to you after this day—is it not true?” “My dear!” he pleaded huskily. “ Pain- chaud is a little fellow—” “Scoundrel!” she cried. ‘‘ I am not talk- ing about this Painchaud! If you do not marry me to-day, how can Céleste Rigaud answer the questions at the altar? Tell me that!” Not in all respects was Jacques Grondin without sense. He swept her up in his arms with snow-shoes dangling, careless of who might be upon the roads—her arms laced about his neck. “Oh, my Jacques of the Thick Head!” she murmured. “It is a terrible thing to love a man like you—but I cannot help it!” So they were married before the sun went cown that day, and Belle Riviére, which insisted upon knowing all the business of everybody, had something to talk about for months. vt comicbooks-com