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As he sat there facing the future, Hume came to him and said: “If you feel up to it, Lepage, we will start for Edmonton on Monday. I think it will be quite safe, and your wife is anxious. I shall accompany you as far as Edmonton; you can then proceed by easy stages, in this pleasant weather. Are you ready to go?”

“Quite ready,” was the reply.

X

On a beautiful May evening Lepage, Hume, and the White Guard were welcomed at Fort Edmonton by the officer in command of the Mounted Police. They were to enjoy the hospitality of the fort for a couple of days. Hume was to go back with Cloud-in-the-Sky and Late Carscallen, and a number of Indian carriers; for this was a journey of business too. Gaspe Toujours and Jeff Hyde were to press on with Lepage, who was now much stronger and better. One day passed, and on the following morning Hume gave instructions to Gaspe Toujours and Jeff Hyde, and made preparations for his going back. He was standing in the Barracks Square, when a horseman rode in and made inquiry of a sergeant standing near, if Lepage had arrived at the fort. A few words brought out the fact that Rose Lepage was nearing the fort from the south. The trooper had been sent on ahead the day before, but his horse having met with a slight accident, he had been delayed. He had seen the party, however, a long distance back in the early morning. He must now ride away and meet Mrs. Lepage, he said. He was furnished with a fresh horse, and he left, bearing a message from Lepage.

Hume decided to leave Fort Edmonton at once, and to take all the White Guard back with him; and gave orders to that effect. Entering the room where Lepage sat alone, he said: “Lepage, the time has come for good-bye. I am starting for Fort Providence.”

But the other replied: “You will wait until my wife comes. You must.” There was trouble in his voice. “I must not.”

Lepage braced himself for a heavy task and said: “Hume, if the time has come to say good-bye, it has also come when we should speak together for once openly: to settle, in so far as can be done, a long account. You have not let my wife know who saved me. That appears from her letters. She asks the name of my rescuer. I have not yet told her. But she will know that to-day when I tell her all.”

“When you tell her all?”

“When I tell her all.”

“But you shall not do that.”

“I will. It will be the beginning of the confession which I shall afterwards make to the world.”

“By Heaven you shall not do it. Do you want to wreck her life?”

Jaspar Hume’s face was wrathful, and remained so till the other sank back in the chair with his forehead in his hands; but it softened as he saw this remorse and shame. He began to see that Lepage had not clearly grasped the whole situation. He said in quieter but still firm tones: “No, Lepage, that matter is between us two, and us alone. She must never know–the world therefore must never know. You did an unmanly thing; you are suffering a manly remorse. Now let it end here–but I swear it shall,” he said in sharp tones, as the other shook his head negatively: “I would have let you die at Manitou Mountain, if I had thought you would dare to take away your wife’s peace–your children’s respect.”

“I have no children; our baby died.”

Hume softened again. “Can you not see, Lepage? The thing cannot be mended. I bury it all, and so must you. You will begin the world again, and so shall I. Keep your wife’s love. Henceforth you will deserve it.”

Lepage raised moist eyes to the other and said: “But you will take back the money I got for that?”