Melisse was not asleep. Her eyes were wide open and
staring at him, and her soft cheeks burned with the hot glow of fire.
"You are sick, Melisse," he whispered hoarsely. "You are sick!"
He fell upon his knees beside her, and lifted her face in his hands.
The touch of it sent a chill to his heart--such as he had not felt
since many years ago, in that other room a few steps away.
"I want Jan," she pleaded. "I want Jan to come back to me!"
"I will send for him, dear. He will come back soon. I will go out and
send Croisset."
He hid his face from her as he dragged himself away. Croisset saw him
coming, and came out of the store to meet him. A hundred yards away
Cummins stopped.
"Croisset, for the love of God, take a team and go after Jan Thoreau,"
he called "Tell him that Melisse is dying of the plague. Hurry,
hurry!"
"Night and day!" shouted Croisset.
Twenty minutes later, from the cabin window, Cummins saw him start.
"Jan will be here very soon, Melisse," he said, running his fingers
gently through her hair.
It fell out upon the pillow in thick brown waves, and the sight of it
choked him with the memory of another vision which would remain with
him until the end of time. It was her mother's hair, shining softly in
the dim light; her mother's eyes looked up at him as he sat beside her
through all this long day.
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