Summary

Portrait of H. M. Egbert H. M. Egbert Jacqueline of Golden River

A dreadful fear held me in its grip: what if she never awoke? Some people died thus in the snow. I raised the sleigh robe, and saw that the fur coat stirred softly as she breathed.
How gently she slept—as gently as she lived. How could her own have abandoned her in her need?
At last, out of the wild passions that fought within me, decision was born. I would go on, because she had bidden me. And I would be ready for Leroux, and let him act as he saw fit. I loaded my pistols. I could do no more than fight for Jacqueline, and with God be the issue.
Source: Gutenberg

Portrait of H. M. Egbert H. M. Egbert Jacqueline of Golden River

Her loving, gracious presence, her sweet, pure face, her courage, her tenderness—all these were for Leroux. Nothing remained for me, except my memories.
I should have to make a great deal of my life. I had always believed that life was only a prelude to greater and finer things. I was not sure; I am not sure to-day; but if the life that is to come is not the realization of our unfulfilled desires, then nothing matters here. I was thinking of that as I paced the tunnel. And in that way I felt that, in a measure, Jacqueline was still mine.
Source: Gutenberg

Portrait of H. M. Egbert H. M. Egbert Jacqueline of Golden River

She raised her head and looked sadly at me. "It is I, Paul," she answered.
"You, Jacqueline?"
"Yes, it is I!" she cried with sudden, passionate vehemence. "It is I who am wrong and have brought trouble on you. Paul, I do not even know how you came into my life, nor who I am, nor anything that happened to me at any time before you brought me to Quebec, except that my home is there." She pointed northward. "Who am I? Jacqueline, you say. The name means nothing to me. I am a woman without a past or future, a shadow that falls across your life, Paul.
Source: Gutenberg

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