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Full Online Book HomeLong StoriesFlower Of The North - Chapter 25
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Flower Of The North - Chapter 25 Post by :Dusty13 Category :Long Stories Author :James Oliver Curwood Date :May 2012 Read :882

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Flower Of The North - Chapter 25

Chapter XXV

All that night the storm came out of the north and east. Hours after Jeanne and her father had left him Philip went quietly from his room, passed down the hall, and opened the outer door. He could hear the gale whistling over the top of the great rock, and moaning in the spruce and cedar forest, and he closed the door after him, and buried himself in the darkness and wind. He bowed his head to the stinging snow, which came like blasts of steeled shot, and hurried into the shelter of the Sun Rock, and stood there after that listening to the wildness of the storm and the strange whistling of the wind cutting itself to pieces far over his head. Since man had first beheld that rock such storms as this had come and gone for countless generations. Two hundred years and more had passed since Grosellier first looked out upon a wondrous world from its summit. And yet this storm--to-night--whistling and moaning about him, filling all space with its grief, its triumph, and its madness, seemed to be for him--and for him alone. His heart answered to it. His soul trembled to the marvelous meaning of it. To-night this storm was his own. He was a part of a world which he would never leave. Here, beside the great Sun Rock of the Crees, he had found home, life, happiness, his God. Here, henceforth through all time, he would live with his beloved Jeanne, dreaming no dreams that went beyond the peace of the mountains and the forests. He lifted his face to where the storm swept above him, and for an instant he fancied that high up on the ragged edge of the rock there might have stood Pierre, with his great, gaping, hungry heart, filled with pain and yearning, staring off into the face of the Almighty. And he fancied, too, that beside him there hovered the wife and mother. And then he looked to Fort o' God. The lights were out. Quiet, if not sleep, had fallen upon all life within. And it seemed to Philip, as he went back again through the storm, that in the moaning tumult of the night there was music instead of sadness.

He did not sleep until nearly morning. And when he awoke he found that the storm had passed, and that over a world of spotless white there had risen a brilliant sun. He looked out from his window, and saw the top of the Sun Rock glistening in a golden fire, and where the forest trees had twisted and moaned there were now unending canopies of snow, so that it seemed as though the storm, in passing, had left behind only light, and beauty, and happiness for all living things.

Trembling with the joy of this, Philip went to his door, and from the door down the hall, and where the light of the sun blazed through a window near to the great room where he expected to find the master of Fort o' God, there stood Jeanne. And as she heard him coming, and turned toward him, all the glory and beauty of the wondrous day was in her face and hair. Like an angel she stood waiting for him, pale and yet flushing a little, her eyes shining and yearning for him, her soul in the tremble of the single word on her sweet lips.



No more--and yet against each other their hearts told what it was futile for their lips to attempt. They looked out through the window. Beyond that window, as far as the vision could reach, swept the barrens, over which Pierre had brought the little Jeanne. Something sobbing rose in the girl's throat. She lifted her eyes, swimming with love and tears, to Philip, and from his breast she reached up both hands gently to his face.

"They will bring Pierre--to-day---" she whispered.


"We will bury him out yonder," she said, stroking his face, and he knew that she meant out in the barren, where the mother lay.

He bowed his face close down against hers to hide the woman's weakness that was bringing a misty film into his eyes.

"You love me," she whispered. "You love me--love me--and you will never take me away, but will stay with me always. You will stay here--dear--in my beautiful world--we two--alone--"

"For ever and for ever," he murmured.

They heard a step, firm and vibrant with the strength of a new life, and they knew that it was the master of Fort o' God.

"Always--we two--forever," whispered Philip again.

James Oliver Curwood's Novel: Flower of the North

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