The wind had risen and was shaking the Partitions as window-panes
rattle in a sudden gust. The nor'wester came howling over the dark
tree-tops, fell upon the clearing about the little wooden
buildings--house, stable, barn--in' squalls and-wicked whirlwinds
that sought to lift the roof and smote the walls like a
battering-ram, before sweeping onward to the forest in a baffled
fury. The house trembled from base to chimneytop, and swayed on its
foundation in such a fashion that the inmates, feeling the
onslaught, hearing the roar and shriek of the foe, were almost as
sensible of the terrors of the storm as though they were exposed to
it; lacking the consciousness of safe retreat that belongs to those
who are sheltered by strong walls of stone.

Tit'Sebe cast his eyes about. "A good house you have here; tightly
made and warm. Your father and the boys built it, did they not?
Moreover, you must have a good bit of land cleared by this time ..."

So loud was the wind that they did not hear the sound of
sleigh-bells, and suddenly the door flew open against the wall and
the cure of St. Henri entered, bearing the Host in his raised hands.
Maria and Tit'Sebe fell upon their knees; Tit'Be ran to shut the
door, then also knelt. The priest put off the heavy fur coat and the
cap white with snow drawn down to his eyes, and instantly approached
the sick-bed as heaven's envoy bringing pardon and peace.

Ah! the assurance, the comfort of the divine promise which dispels
the awful mists of death! While the priest performed the sacred
rites, and his low words mingled with the sighs of the dying woman,
Samuel Chapdelaine and his children were praying with bended heads;