Dr. Dunlap had thought twenty-four hours on what he would say at this unavoidable meeting, and he acknowledged in a business-like tone,—­

“I did not treat you right, Maria.  My wretched entanglement when I was a boy ruined everything.  But when I persuaded you into a secret marriage with me, I meant to make it right when the other one died.  And you found it out and left me.  If I treated you badly, you treated me badly, too.”

He knew the long chin of the Joneses.  He could imagine Maria lifting her slim chin.  She did not speak.

“I came over here to begin life again.  When you ran off to your friends, what was there for me to do but take to the navy again or sail for America?  Kaskaskia was the largest post in the West; so I came here.  And here I found your family, that I thought were in another Territory.  And from the first your brother has been my enemy.”

His sulky complaint brought no response in words; but a strangling sob broke all restraint in the angle of the wall.

“Maria,” exclaimed the startled doctor, “don’t do that.  You excite yourself.”

In her paroxysm she rolled down on the stone floor, and he stooped in consternation and picked her up.  He rested his foot on the ledge where she had sat, and held her upon his knee.  She struggled for breath until he thought she would die, and the sweat of terror stood on his forehead.  When he had watched her by the bonfire, his medical knowledge gave her barely two months of life; and within those two months, he had also told himself bitterly then, Rice Jones could marry Angelique Saucier; but to have her die alone with him in this old building was what he could not contemplate.

Scarcely conscious of his own action, the doctor held her in positions which helped her, and finally had the relief of hearing her draw a free breath as she lapsed against his shoulder.  Even a counterfeit tie of marriage has its power.  He had lived with this woman, she believing herself his lawful wife.  Their half-year together had been the loftiest period of his life.  The old feeling, smothered as it was under resentment and a new passion, stirred in him.  He strained her to his breast and called her the pet names he used to call her.  The diminutive being upon his knee heard them without response.  When she could speak she whispered,—­

“Set me down.”

Dr. Dunlap moved his foot and placed her again on the stone ledge.  She leaned against the wall.  There was a ringing in her ears.  The unpardonable sin in man is not his ceasing to love you.  That may be a mortal pain, but it has dignity.  It is the fearful judgment of seeing in a flash that you have wasted your life on what was not worth the waste.

“Now if you are composed, Maria,” said Dr. Dunlap hurriedly, “I will say what I followed you here to say.  The best thing for us to do, now that I am free to do it, is to have the marriage ceremony repeated over us and made valid.  I am ready and willing.  The only drawback is the prejudice of your family against me.”