This eBook was produced by David Widger
By Gilbert Parker
"Oh, who will walk the wood with me,
I fear to walk alone;
So young am I, as you may see;
No dangers have I known.
So young, so small—ah, yes, m'sieu',
I'll walk the wood with you!"
In the last note of the song applause came instantaneously, almostimpatiently, as it might seem. With cries of "Encore! Encore!" itlasted some time, while the happy singer looked around with frankpleasure on the little group encircling her in the Manor Cartier.
"Did you like it so much?" she asked in a general way, and not lookingat any particular person. A particular person, however, replied, and shehad addressed the question to him, although not looking at him. He wasthe Man from Outside, and he sat near the bright wood-fire; for though itwas almost June the night was cool and he was delicate.
"Ah, but splendid, but splendid—it got into every corner of every one ofus," the Man from Outside responded, speaking his fluent French with aslight English accent, which had a pleasant piquancy—at least to theears of the pretty singer, Mdlle. Zoe Barbille. He was a man of aboutthirty-three, clean-shaven, dark-haired, with an expression ofcleverness; yet with an irresponsible something about him which M. Fillehad reflected upon with concern. For this slim, eager, talkative, half-invalid visitor to St. Saviour's had of late shown a marked liking forthe presence and person of Zoe Barbille; and Zoe was as dear to M. Filleas though she were his own daughter. He it was who, in sarcasm, hadspoken of this young stranger as "The Man from Outside."
Ever since Zoe's mother had vanished—alone—seven years before from theManor Cartier, or rather from his office at Vilray, M. Fille had been asmuch like a maiden aunt or a very elder brother to the Spanische'sdaughter as a man could be. Of M. Fille's influence over his daughterand her love of his companionship, Jean Jacques had no jealousy whatever.Very often indeed, when he felt incompetent to do for his child all thathe wished—philosophers are often stupid in human affairs—he thought itwas a blessing Zoe had a friend like M. Fille. Since the terrible daywhen he found that his wife had gone from him—not with the master-carpenter who only made his exit from Laplatte some years afterwards—hehad had no desire to have a woman at the Manor to fill her place, even ashousekeeper. He had never swerved from that. He had had a hard row tohoe, but he had hoed it with a will not affected by domestic accidents orinconveniences. The one woman from outside whom he permitted to go andcome at will—and she did not come often, because she and M. Fille agreedit would be best not to do so—was the sister of the Cure. To be surethere was Seraphe Corniche, the old cook, but she was buried in herkitchen, and Jean Jacques treated her like a man.
When Zoe was confirmed, and had come back from Montreal, having spent twoyears in a convent there—the only time she had been away from her fatherin seven years—having had her education chiefly from a Catholic"brother," the situation developed in a new way. Zoe at once becameas conspicuous in the country-side as her father had been over so manyyears. She was fre