In the earlier part of the winter Jo and he had met two or three times
a week, but now Jo had come to help him with his work in the shop--two
silent, devoted companions. They understood each other, and in that
understanding were life and death. For never did Jo forget that a year
from the day he had confessed his sins he meant to give himself up to
justice. This caused him no sleepless nights. He thought more of
Charley than of himself, and every month now he went to confession, and
every day he said his prayers. He was at his prayers when Charley went
to tell him of his purpose. Charley had often seen Jo on his knees of
late, and he had wondered, but not with the old pagan mind. "Jo," he
said, "I am going away--to Montreal."

"To Montreal!" exclaimed Jo huskily. "You are going back--to stay?"

"Not that. I am going--to see--Rosalie Evanturel." Jo was troubled but
not dumfounded. It had slowly crept into his mind that Charley loved the
girl, though he had no real ground for suspicion. His will, however, had
been so long the slave of the other man's that he had far-off reflections
of his thoughts. He made no reply in words, but nodded his head.

"I want you to stay here, Jo. If I don't come back, and--and she does,
stand by her, Jo. I can trust you." "You will come back, M'sieu'--but
you will come back, then?" Jo asked heavily.

"If I can, Jo--if I can," he answered.

Long after he had gone, Jo wandered up and down among the trees on the
river-road, up which Charley had disappeared with Jo's dogs and sled.
He kept shaking his head mournfully.