A Countess from Canada

  CHAPTER XXIX

  Winter Again

  Never had there been such excitement in Seal Cove and at RoaringWater Portage as when, following close on the safe return of the_Mary_, the tidings leaked out that Jervis Ferrars was going to marryKatherine Radford. With a very few exceptions everyone wasdisappointed, for common consent had given him to Mary Selincourt,and Dame Rumour does not care to make mistakes. Some there werewho insisted that Mary Selincourt took the news badly, and lookedpale for days afterwards; but these were the very wise ones, whoalways knew everything without any telling, whom nothing surprised,and who were never taken unawares.

  Mr. Selincourt had himself rowed across the river directly thetidings reached him; for he was anxious to offer hiscongratulations, and to inform Katherine that he had expected itever since he had been at Roaring Water Portage. Katherine's eyesgrew suspiciously dim when he had gone: she was thinking of the daywhen he had taken her into his confidence about Mary's love affairwith Archie Raymond, and she guessed that he had told her onpurpose to prevent her putting any belief in the rumours flyingabout concerning Jervis and Mary.

  The person who was most surprised was Mrs. Burton. So keenlyremorseful was she, too, because of all the advice she had givenher sister about standing aside, that Katherine had to turncomforter, and assure the poor little woman that the well-meantcounsel had done no serious harm. But she shivered at theremembrance of how she had suffered; for the pain is always mostwearing that has to be crushed down out of sight of other people'seyes.

  It was the last week in September when the Selincourts sailed fromSeal Cove. Mary wanted to go south by river and trail, as they hadcome; but the weather was so stormy that it seemed better to get toMontreal with dry feet, if they could manage to do so. They werecoming back next summer to settle permanently; but before then abigger house would have to be built, and many changes were to takeplace on both sides of the river from Seal Cove to Roaring WaterPortage.

  Jervis had begged Katherine to marry him before the winter began,so that he might take the heaviest of her burdens on his ownshoulders. He was to live in Mr. Selincourt's house during thewinter, and it seemed to him an ideal arrangement, if onlyKatherine had been willing to live there too. But she could notselfishly take her own happiness while the others needed her somuch, and she steadily refused to even think of marriage until thespring came again. By that time Miles would be old enough toassume the government of affairs, and her father would not miss herpresence from the house so much when the bright, long days cameround again.

  Finding that he could not alter her resolution, and secretlyadmiring her all the more because of it, Jervis set himself to passthe months of waiting as best he could. This winter it was he whotaught the night school, thus relieving Katherine of what had beena heavy and sometimes very embarrassing burden. There were morescholars this year; for the river was crowded with boats, so manyfishermen who had formerly wintered at Marble Island preferring tocome south in order to begin work earlier in the spring.

  The snow came early, shutting them in a full two weeks sooner thanusual. But "early come early go" was the legend at Seal Cove, and,since the winter had to come, the sooner it was over and done withthe better.

  Idleness for the fishermen had been the rule in previous winters,and, as idleness is usually only another word for mischief anddissipation, the morals of the men had suffered seriously. Butnext summer had to be prepared for, and as there was money inplenty to pay for the work which had to be done, it seemed probablethat Mr. Selincourt's plans would be pushed forward as fast as hedesired.

  Astor M'Kree had set up a team of dogs and a sledge painted abrilliant blue, and in this equipage, or on snowshoes, he was upand down between his house and the bay several times in most days.Some of the fishermen were fairly expert carpenters, and thesefound the winter brought them as much work as the summer had done,with less risk and better pay.

  To Katherine the weeks of winter passed like a dream. Sometimesshe contrasted them with the dark, anxious weeks of the previouswinter, when the nightmare trouble about her father had firstdescended upon her. She was a keener business woman now than then,readier at buying and selling, quicker to see what was the rightthing to do under the circumstances of the moment; but her chiefaim this winter was to stand back and push Miles forward so thatother people might understand who was to be business chief of theestablishment in the future. Whenever Jervis could spare time tocome over the river and help Phil in the store, Katherine had Milesfor companion on the long journeys which were still necessary hereand there.

  It was pure comedy now when they went to the Indian encampment.The Indians of the bay shore could not be brought to believe that aperson could have any sound, reliable judgment on any subjectwhatever until he had done growing; so, when Katherine appealed toMiles regarding every skin offered in barter, the red men firstmocked. Then, however, they grew doubtful, and finally they veeredround to a respectful attitude towards the young tradesman whichMiles found very soothing.

  Mr. Selincourt had arranged for an intermittent postal servicebetween Maxohama and Seal Cove, to be carried on by Indians, duringthe winter. Two mails had safely reached the post office atRoaring Water Portage in this way; then three months passed withnever a word from the outside world reaching the little isolatedcolony on the bay shore, and the people thus cut off could notunderstand the reason why no tidings reached them. Then one daywhen Katherine and Miles had gone up to Ochre Lake, where a companyof Indians had made themselves winter quarters, they came upon aclue to the mystery of the missing mails.

  Ochre Lake was, as usual, frozen solid, except at one end, where anenormous quantity of fish was to be found. It was nearly the endof March, but as yet there was not the slightest prospect of thefrost breaking up. The nights were getting shorter, and the dayswere brilliant with sunshine, but it was only a cold brilliance asyet.

  The Indians had remained there all the winter, so they said,because there was such an abundance of fish for food. Their winterquarters consisted of holes, about four feet deep, dug in theearth, roofed over with spruce branches heaped with snow. Fireswere kindled in these lairs, and the people rarely came out savewhen driven to it by the necessity to catch fish for food.

  The day Katherine and Miles went to the encampment it wasgloriously fine, and for the first time that year the sun had realwarmth in it. This had induced some of the miserable creatures tocrawl out to the daylight, who perhaps had not been outside theholes for weeks. There was quite a crowd of children visible, andKatherine, whose heart always warmed to the pitiable littleobjects, with their mournful black eyes, produced a packet ofsweets, which speedily brought a swarm of youngsters round her.

  Doling the sweets out with strict impartiality, she noticed thatone child had a fragment of paper in its skinny hand. This waspuzzling, for the Indians were not given to education or culture inany shape or form, and the paper looked like a fragment from aletter, for she could plainly see writing upon it.

  With a sign to Miles to keep the elders busy, Katherine proceededto bribe the child to give up his dirty fragment of paper inexchange for the bag, which still had some sweets in it.

  When this was done, she told Miles to cut the business short, andthen they started for home. She had thrust the fragment of paperin her glove, and did not venture to look at it until they weremiles away from the lake, because she did not wish the Indians toknow that her curiosity had been aroused. But when the dogs haddropped into a walk, and were coming slowly up the hill at somedistance behind, she pulled off her glove and proceeded to examinethe dirty fragment.

  It was part of a letter, and directly she saw it she recognized thehandwriting as that of Mrs. Ferrars, the mother of Jervis. He hadshown her some of his mother's letters, and there was no mistakingthe regular, delicate handwriting. The paper was only written onon one side, and only two lines of the writing were legible:

  "--is very ill; you may be sent for now at any time."

  Kat
herine pondered over the dirty fragment with a very puzzledexpression. There were three ways of explaining the presence ofthat bit of paper at the encampment on Ochre Lake: it might havebeen stolen from Jervis by the Indians, when they came down to theCove; or the Indians coming up from Maxohama might have been robbedof the mails they were bringing by other Indians; or they mighthave perished in one of the winter storms, and the bags might havebeen found afterwards, and appropriated as justifiable treasuretrove.

  Katherine said nothing of all this to Miles; she wanted to speak toJervis about it first, for, of course, it might be only part of anold letter that he had lost, and of no importance at all to anyoneelse. If this were proved to be the case she would be greatlyrelieved. A whole host of misgivings had arisen in her heart onreading the words: "You may be sent for now at any time". IfJervis were to go away, what a blank it would make in her life! Ofcourse he would come back again, but the dreary months of hisabsence would be very hard to live through.

  She did not see Jervis that day until evening. He came in as usualwhen night school was over. Then all the family were gathered inthe one sitting-room the house contained, which left little chancefor private conversation of any kind; the boys went away to bedafter a time, taking their father with them, and then Mrs. Burtonwent to put her little girls to bed, and the lovers were alone forthe brief half-hour which was all the time they could get foruninterrupted talk on most days. Then Katherine produced thefragment, stated how she had discovered it, and asked a littleshyly if it were part of an old letter, or a bit of one he hadnever received.

  "I have never had it, of that I am quite certain," he said, with avery grave look on his face.

  "Then who is ill? Is it one of your brothers?" she asked, with apainful throb at her heart; for something in his looks and hisexpression made her certain that if the summons came he would haveto go.

  "No, George and Fred are hard as nails; nothing is likely to ailthem, nor would their illness necessitate my going home. I expectit is Cousin Samuel who is ill," Jervis answered, with a curioushesitancy of manner and a sort of constraint which made Katherine'sheart heavy as lead, although she held her head high and lookedprouder than ever.

  "What will you do?" she asked, and her tone was breathless, despiteher efforts to make her voice have merely a casual sound.

  "If Cousin Samuel dies I shall have to go to England, I suppose.He is the well-to-do member of our family, and his death would meanbusiness affairs to look after," Jervis answered, as he surveyedthe scrap of paper, turning it over and over, as if to see if therewere anything on it that might have been missed.

  "Is he your cousin or your father's?" she asked. "Neither; he ismy grandfather's first cousin, a hard, cruel old man, with not anounce of charity, nor even ordinary kind-heartedness, in his wholecomposition," Jervis answered in a hard tone. "I asked his help formy mother when she was left a widow, but he turned a deaf ear tothe plea, and left her to struggle on, to sink or swim as best shecould."

  "I see," said Katherine, and now it was her voice which wasconstrained. Then she asked timidly: "If you go to England, whenwill you have to start?"

  "That will depend upon you; for of course I am not going to Englandto leave you behind, that goes without saying," he answered, in amasterful tone that set her heart throbbing wildly, only now it wasjoy, and not sorrow, that caused the emotion. "I must see what Ican do about getting a minister up here to marry us," he went on;"then we should be ready to start directly the waters are open, ifneed should arise."

  "Wouldn't it be wiser to put off our wedding until you come back?It will cost you such a fearful lot to take me too," she said,feeling that she must take a common-sense, prudent view of thesituation, although the prospect of going with him set her nervestingling with delight.

  "No, no, sweetheart, I am not going to leave you behind," he said,holding her hand in a pressure that hurt her. "If I go to EnglandI will take my wife along with me; if that can't be managed I willstay where I am."

  Katherine laughed. "It is all very well to be so positive, but Idon't see how it is to be managed. It is one thing for me to marryand just go over the river to live, because then I can always cometo help when I am wanted," she said, the mirth dying out of herface, and leaving it with a troubled look; "but it is quite anothermatter to marry and go straight away to England."

  "Nevertheless, it may have to be done," he said; adding, with asmile: "Don't be so conceited as to think the world can't turnround without your help in pushing it. Here comes Mrs. Burton; letus ask her opinion."

  "Upon what?" said Nellie, who came out from the bedroom at thatmoment.

  "Upon our getting married at the very earliest opportunity andgoing to England afterwards on a honeymoon trip, if we feel soinclined," replied Jervis promptly.

  Mrs. Burton looked considerably surprised, but she said quickly:"The trip would do Katherine a lot of good, if you can afford thetime and the expense, and we could spare her somehow."

  "Just my own opinion," he answered, with a laugh.