Rilla of Ingleside

  CHAPTER XXVII

  WAITING

  Ingleside, 1st November 1917

  "It is November--and the Glen is all grey and brown, except where theLombardy poplars stand up here and there like great golden torches inthe sombre landscape, although every other tree has shed its leaves. Ithas been very hard to keep our courage alight of late. The Caporettodisaster is a dreadful thing and not even Susan can extract muchconsolation out of the present state of affairs. The rest of us don'ttry. Gertrude keeps saying desperately, 'They must not get Venice--theymust not get Venice,' as if by saying it often enough she can preventthem. But what is to prevent them from getting Venice I cannot see.Yet, as Susan fails not to point out, there was seemingly nothing toprevent them from getting to Paris in 1914, yet they did not get it,and she affirms they shall not get Venice either. Oh, how I hope andpray they will not--Venice the beautiful Queen of the Adriatic.Although I've never seen it I feel about it just as Byron did--I'vealways loved it--it has always been to me 'a fairy city of the heart.'Perhaps I caught my love of it from Walter, who worshipped it. It wasalways one of his dreams to see Venice. I remember we plannedonce--down in Rainbow Valley one evening just before the war brokeout--that some time we would go together to see it and float in agondola through its moonlit streets.

  "Every fall since the war began there has been some terrible blow toour troops--Antwerp in 1914, Serbia in 1915; last fall, Rumania, andnow Italy, the worst of all. I think I would give up in despair if itwere not for what Walter said in his dear last letter--that 'the deadas well as the living were fighting on our side and such an army cannotbe defeated.' No it cannot. We will win in the end. I will not doubt itfor one moment. To let myself doubt would be to 'break faith.'

  "We have all been campaigning furiously of late for the new VictoryLoan. We Junior Reds canvassed diligently and landed several tough oldcustomers who had at first flatly refused to invest. I--even I--tackledWhiskers-on-the-moon. I expected a bad time and a refusal. But to myamazement he was quite agreeable and promised on the spot to take athousand dollar bond. He may be a pacifist, but he knows a goodinvestment when it is handed out to him. Five and a half per cent isfive and a half per cent, even when a militaristic government pays it.

  "Father, to tease Susan, says it was her speech at the Victory LoanCampaign meeting that converted Mr. Pryor. I don't think that at alllikely, since Mr. Pryor has been publicly very bitter against Susanever since her quite unmistakable rejection of his lover-like advances.But Susan did make a speech--and the best one made at the meeting, too.It was the first time she ever did such a thing and she vows it will bethe last. Everybody in the Glen was at the meeting, and quite a numberof speeches were made, but somehow things were a little flat and noespecial enthusiasm could be worked up. Susan was quite dismayed at thelack of zeal, because she had been burningly anxious that the Islandshould go over the top in regard to its quota. She kept whisperingviciously to Gertrude and me that there was 'no ginger' in thespeeches; and when nobody went forward to subscribe to the loan at theclose Susan 'lost her head.' At least, that is how she describes itherself. She bounded to her feet, her face grim and set under herbonnet--Susan is the only woman in Glen St. Mary who still wears abonnet--and said sarcastically and loudly, 'No doubt it is much cheaperto talk patriotism than it is to pay for it. And we are asking charity,of course--we are asking you to lend us your money for nothing! Nodoubt the Kaiser will feel quite downcast when he hears of thismeeting!"

  "Susan has an unshaken belief that the Kaiser's spies--presumablyrepresented by Mr. Pryor--promptly inform him of every happening in ourGlen.

  "Norman Douglas shouted out 'Hear! Hear!' and some boy at the backsaid, 'What about Lloyd George?' in a tone Susan didn't like. LloydGeorge is her pet hero, now that Kitchener is gone.

  "'I stand behind Lloyd George every time,' retorted Susan.

  "'I suppose that will hearten him up greatly,' said Warren Mead, withone of his disagreeable 'haw-haws.'

  "Warren's remark was spark to powder. Susan just 'sailed in' as sheputs it, and 'said her say.' She said it remarkably well, too. Therewas no lack of 'ginger' in her speech, anyhow. When Susan is warmed upshe has no mean powers of oratory, and the way she trimmed those mendown was funny and wonderful and effective all at once. She said it wasthe likes of her, millions of her, that did stand behind Lloyd George,and did hearten him up. That was the key-note of her speech. Dear oldSusan! She is a perfect dynamo of patriotism and loyalty and contemptfor slackers of all kinds, and when she let it loose on that audiencein her one grand outburst she electrified it. Susan always vows she isno suffragette, but she gave womanhood its due that night, and sheliterally made those men cringe. When she finished with them they wereready to eat out of her hand. She wound up by ordering them--yes,ordering them--to march up to the platform forthwith and subscribe forVictory Bonds. And after wild applause most of them did it, even WarrenMead. When the total amount subscribed came out in the Charlottetowndailies the next day we found that the Glen led every district on theIsland--and certainly Susan has the credit for it. She, herself, aftershe came home that night was quite ashamed and evidently feared thatshe had been guilty of unbecoming conduct: she confessed to mother thatshe had been 'rather unladylike.'

  "We were all--except Susan--out for a trial ride in father's newautomobile tonight. A very good one we had, too, though we did getingloriously ditched at the end, owing to a certain grim old dame--towit, Miss Elizabeth Carr of the Upper Glen--who wouldn't rein her horseout to let us pass, honk as we might. Father was quite furious; but inmy heart I believe I sympathized with Miss Elizabeth. If I had been aspinster lady, driving along behind my own old nag, in maidenmeditation fancy free, I wouldn't have lifted a rein when anobstreperous car hooted blatantly behind me. I should just have sat upas dourly as she did and said 'Take the ditch if you are determined topass.'

  "We did take the ditch--and got up to our axles in sand--and satfoolishly there while Miss Elizabeth clucked up her horse and rattledvictoriously away.

  "Jem will have a laugh when I write him this. He knows Miss Elizabethof old.

  "But--will--Venice--be--saved?"

  19th November 1917

  "It is not saved yet--it is still in great danger. But the Italiansare making a stand at last on the Piave line. To be sure militarycritics say they cannot possibly hold it and must retreat to theAdige. But Susan and Gertrude and I say they must hold it, becauseVenice must be saved, so what are the military critics to do?

  "Oh, if I could only believe that they can hold it!

  "Our Canadian troops have won another great victory--they have stormedthe Passchendaele Ridge and held it in the face of all counter attacks.None of our boys were in the battle--but oh, the casualty list of otherpeople's boys! Joe Milgrave was in it but came through safe. Mirandahad some bad days until she got word from him. But it is wonderful howMiranda has bloomed out since her marriage. She isn't the same girl atall. Even her eyes seem to have darkened and deepened--though I supposethat is just because they glow with the greater intensity that has cometo her. She makes her father stand round in a perfectly amazingfashion; she runs up the flag whenever a yard of trench on the westernfront is taken; and she comes up regularly to our Junior Red Cross; andshe does--yes, she does--put on funny little 'married woman' airs thatare quite killing. But she is the only war-bride in the Glen and surelynobody need grudge her the satisfaction she gets out of it.

  "The Russian news is bad, too--Kerensky's government has fallen andLenin is dictator of Russia. Somehow, it is very hard to keep upcourage in the dull hopelessness of these grey autumn days of suspenseand boding news. But we are beginning to 'get in a low,' as oldHighland Sandy says, over the approaching election. Conscription is thereal issue at stake and it will be the most exciting election we everhad. All the women 'who have got de age'--to quote Jo Poirier, and whohave husbands, sons, and brothers at the front, can vote. Oh, if I wereonly twenty-one! Gertrude and Susan are both furious because they can'tvote.


  "'It is not fair,' Gertrude says passionately. 'There is Agnes Carr whocan vote because her husband went. She did everything she could toprevent him from going, and now she is going to vote against the UnionGovernment. Yet I have no vote, because my man at the front is only mysweetheart and not my husband!"

  "As for Susan, when she reflects that she cannot vote, while a rank oldpacifist like Mr. Pryor can--and will--her comments are sulphurous.

  "I really feel sorry for the Elliotts and Crawfords and MacAllistersover-harbour. They have always lined up in clearly divided camps ofLiberal and Conservative, and now they are torn from their moorings--Iknow I'm mixing my metaphors dreadfully--and set hopelessly adrift. Itwill kill some of those old Grits to vote for Sir Robert Borden'sside--and yet they have to because they believe the time has come whenwe must have conscription. And some poor Conservatives who are againstconscription must vote for Laurier, who always has been anathema tothem. Some of them are taking it terribly hard. Others seem to be inmuch the same attitude as Mrs. Marshall Elliott has come to beregarding Church Union.

  "She was up here last night. She doesn't come as often as she used to.She is growing too old to walk this far--dear old 'Miss Cornelia.' Ihate to think of her growing old--we have always loved her so and shehas always been so good to us Ingleside young fry.

  "She used to be so bitterly opposed to Church Union. But last night,when father told her it was practically decided, she said in a resignedtone, 'Well, in a world where everything is being rent and torn whatmatters one more rending and tearing? Anyhow, compared with Germanseven Methodists seem attractive to me.'

  "Our Junior R.C. goes on quite smoothly, in spite of the fact thatIrene has come back to it--having fallen out with the Lowbridgesociety, I understand. She gave me a sweet little jab lastmeeting--about knowing me across the square in Charlottetown 'by mygreen velvet hat.' Everybody knows me by that detestable and detestedhat. This will be my fourth season for it. Even mother wanted me to geta new one this fall; but I said, 'No.' As long as the war lasts so longdo I wear that velvet hat in winter."

  23rd November 1917

  "The Piave line still holds--and General Byng has won a splendidvictory at Cambrai. I did run up the flag for that--but Susan onlysaid 'I shall set a kettle of water on the kitchen range tonight.I notice little Kitchener always has an attack of croup after anyBritish victory. I do hope he has no pro-German blood in his veins.Nobody knows much about his father's people.'

  "Jims has had a few attacks of croup this fall--just the ordinarycroup--not that terrible thing he had last year. But whatever bloodruns in his little veins it is good, healthy blood. He is rosy andplump and curly and cute; and he says such funny things and asks suchcomical questions. He likes very much to sit in a special chair in thekitchen; but that is Susan's favourite chair, too, and when she wantsit, out Jims must go. The last time she put him out of it he turnedaround and asked solemnly, 'When you are dead, Susan, can I sit in thatchair?' Susan thought it quite dreadful, and I think that was when shebegan to feel anxiety about his possible ancestry. The other night Itook Jims with me for a walk down to the store. It was the first timehe had ever been out so late at night, and when he saw the stars heexclaimed, 'Oh, Willa, see the big moon and all the little moons!' Andlast Wednesday morning, when he woke up, my little alarm clock hadstopped because I had forgotten to wind it up. Jims bounded out of hiscrib and ran across to me, his face quite aghast above his little blueflannel pyjamas. 'The clock is dead,' he gasped, 'oh Willa, the clockis dead.'

  "One night he was quite angry with both Susan and me because we wouldnot give him something he wanted very much. When he said his prayers heplumped down wrathfully, and when he came to the petition 'Make me agood boy' he tacked on emphatically, 'and please make Willa and Susangood, 'cause they're not.'

  "I don't go about quoting Jims's speeches to all I meet. That alwaysbores me when other people do it! I just enshrine them in this oldhotch-potch of a journal!

  "This very evening as I put Jims to bed he looked up and asked megravely, 'Why can't yesterday come back, Willa?'

  "Oh, why can't it, Jims? That beautiful 'yesterday' of dreams andlaughter--when our boys were home--when Walter and I read and rambledand watched new moons and sunsets together in Rainbow Valley. If itcould just come back! But yesterdays never come back, little Jims--andthe todays are dark with clouds--and we dare not think about thetomorrows."

  11th December 1917

  "Wonderful news came today. The British troops captured Jerusalemyesterday. We ran up the flag and some of Gertrude's old sparklecame back to her for a moment.

  "'After all,' she said, 'it is worth while to live in the days whichsee the object of the Crusades attained. The ghosts of all theCrusaders must have crowded the walls of Jerusalem last night, withCoeur-de-lion at their head.'

  "Susan had cause for satisfaction also.

  "'I am so thankful I can pronounce Jerusalem and Hebron,' she said.'They give me a real comfortable feeling after Przemysl andBrest-Litovsk! Well, we have got the Turks on the run, at least, andVenice is safe and Lord Lansdowne is not to be taken seriously; and Isee no reason why we should be downhearted.'

  "Jerusalem! The 'meteor flag of England!' floats over you--the Crescentis gone. How Walter would have thrilled over that!"

  18th December 1917

  "Yesterday the election came off. In the evening mother and Susanand Gertrude and I forgathered in the living-room and waited inbreathless suspense, father having gone down to the village. We hadno way of hearing the news, for Carter Flagg's store is not on ourline, and when we tried to get it Central always answered that theline 'was busy'--as no doubt it was, for everybody for miles around wastrying to get Carter's store for the same reason we were.

  "About ten o'clock Gertrude went to the 'phone and happened to catchsomeone from over-harbour talking to Carter Flagg. Gertrude shamelesslylistened in and got for her comforting what eavesdroppers areproverbially supposed to get--to wit, unpleasant hearing; the UnionGovernment had 'done nothing' in the West.

  "We looked at each other in dismay. If the Government had failed tocarry the West, it was defeated.

  "'Canada is disgraced in the eyes of the world,' said Gertrude bitterly.

  "'If everybody was like the Mark Crawfords over-harbour this would nothave happened,' groaned Susan. 'They locked their Uncle up in the barnthis morning and would not let him out until he promised to vote Union.That is what I call effective argument, Mrs. Dr. dear.'

  "Gertrude and I couldn't rest after all that. We walked the floor untilour legs gave out and we had to sit down perforce. Mother knitted awayas steadily as clockwork and pretended to be calm and serene--pretendedso well that we were all deceived and envious until the next day, whenI caught her ravelling out four inches of her sock. She had knit thatfar past where the heel should have begun!

  "It was twelve before father came home. He stood in the doorway andlooked at us and we looked at him. We did not dare ask him what thenews was. Then he said that it was Laurier who had 'done nothing' inthe West, and that the Union Government was in with a big majority.Gertrude clapped her hands. I wanted to laugh and cry, mother's eyesflashed with their old-time starriness and Susan emitted a queer soundbetween a gasp and a whoop.

  "This will not comfort the Kaiser much,' she said.

  "Then we went to bed, but were too excited to sleep. Really, as Susansaid solemnly this morning, 'Mrs. Dr. dear, I think politics are toostrenuous for women.'"

  31st December 1917

  "Our fourth War Christmas is over. We are trying to gather up somecourage wherewith to face another year of it. Germany has, for the mostpart, been victorious all summer. And now they say she has all hertroops from the Russian front ready for a 'big push' in the spring.Sometimes it seems to me that we just cannot live through the winterwaiting for that.

  "I had a great batch of letters from overseas this week. Shirley is atthe front now, too, and writes about it all as coolly andmatter-of-factly as he used to write of footb
all at Queen's. Carl wrotethat it had been raining for weeks and that nights in the trenchesalways made him think of the night of long ago when he did penance inthe graveyard for running away from Henry Warren's ghost. Carl'sletters are always full of jokes and bits of fun. They had a greatrat-hunt the night before he wrote--spearing rats with theirbayonets--and he got the best bag and won the prize. He has a tame ratthat knows him and sleeps in his pocket at night. Rats don't worry Carlas they do some people--he was always chummy with all little beasts. Hesays he is making a study of the habits of the trench rat and means towrite a treatise on it some day that will make him famous.

  "Ken wrote a short letter. His letters are all rather short now--and hedoesn't often slip in those dear little sudden sentences I love somuch. Sometimes I think he has forgotten all about the night he washere to say goodbye--and then there will be just a line or a word thatmakes me think he remembers and always will remember. For instanceto-day's letter hadn't a thing in it that mightn't have been written toany girl, except that he signed himself 'Your Kenneth,' instead of'Yours, Kenneth,' as he usually does. Now, did he leave that 's' offintentionally or was it only carelessness? I shall lie awake half thenight wondering. He is a captain now. I am glad and proud--and yetCaptain Ford sounds so horribly far away and high up. Ken and CaptainFord seem like two different persons. I may be practically engaged toKen--mother's opinion on that point is my stay and bulwark--but I can'tbe to Captain Ford!

  "And Jem is a lieutenant now--won his promotion on the field. He sentme a snap-shot, taken in his new uniform. He looked thin andold--old--my boy-brother Jem. I can't forget mother's face when Ishowed it to her. 'That--my little Jem--the baby of the old House ofDreams?' was all she said.

  "There was a letter from Faith, too. She is doing V.A.D. work inEngland and writes hopefully and brightly. I think she is almosthappy--she saw Jem on his last leave and she is so near him she couldgo to him, if he were wounded. That means so much to her. Oh, if I wereonly with her! But my work is here at home. I know Walter wouldn't havewanted me to leave mother and in everything I try to 'keep faith' withhim, even to the little details of daily life. Walter died forCanada--I must live for her. That is what he asked me to do."

  28th January 1918

  "'I shall anchor my storm-tossed soul to the Britishfleet and make a batch of bran biscuits,' said Susan today to CousinSophia, who had come in with some weird tale of a new andall-conquering submarine, just launched by Germany. But Susan is asomewhat disgruntled woman at present, owing to the regulationsregarding cookery. Her loyalty to the Union Government is being sorelytried. It surmounted the first strain gallantly. When the order aboutflour came Susan said, quite cheerfully, 'I am an old dog to belearning new tricks, but I shall learn to make war bread if it willhelp defeat the Huns.'

  "But the later suggestions went against Susan's grain. Had it not beenfor father's decree I think she would have snapped her fingers at SirRobert Borden.

  "'Talk about trying to make bricks without straw, Mrs. Dr. dear! How amI to make a cake without butter or sugar? It cannot be done--not cakethat is cake. Of course one can make a slab, Mrs. Dr. dear. And wecannot even camooflash it with a little icing! To think that I shouldhave lived to see the day when a government at Ottawa should step intomy kitchen and put me on rations!'

  "Susan would give the last drop of her blood for her 'king andcountry,' but to surrender her beloved recipes is a very different andmuch more serious matter.

  "I had letters from Nan and Di too--or rather notes. They are too busyto write letters, for exams are looming up. They will graduate in Artsthis spring. I am evidently to be the dunce of the family. But somehowI never had any hankering for a college course, and even now it doesn'tappeal to me. I'm afraid I'm rather devoid of ambition. There is onlyone thing I really want to be--and I don't know if I'll be it or not.If not--I don't want to be anything. But I shan't write it down. It isall right to think it; but, as Cousin Sophia would say, it might bebrazen to write it down.

  "I will write it down. I won't be cowed by the conventions and CousinSophia! I want to be Kenneth Ford's wife! There now!

  "I've just looked in the glass, and I hadn't the sign of a blush on myface. I suppose I'm not a properly constructed damsel at all.

  "I was down to see little Dog Monday today. He has grown quite stiffand rheumatic but there he sat, waiting for the train. He thumped histail and looked pleadingly into my eyes. 'When will Jem come?' heseemed to say. Oh, Dog Monday, there is no answer to that question; andthere is, as yet, no answer to the other which we are all constantlyasking 'What will happen when Germany strikes again on the westernfront--her one great, last blow for victory!"

  1st March 1918

  "'What will spring bring?' Gertrude said today. 'I dread it as Inever dreaded spring before. Do you suppose there will ever againcome a time when life will be free from fear? For almost four yearswe have lain down with fear and risen up with it. It has been theunbidden guest at every meal, the unwelcome companion at everygathering.'

  "'Hindenburg says he will be in Paris on 1st April,' sighed CousinSophia.

  "'Hindenburg!' There is no power in pen and ink to express the contemptwhich Susan infused into that name. 'Has he forgotten what day thefirst of April is?'

  "'Hindenburg has kept his word hitherto,' said Gertrude, as gloomily asCousin Sophia herself could have said it.

  "'Yes, fighting against the Russians and Rumanians,' retorted Susan.'Wait you till he comes up against the British and French, not to speakof the Yankees, who are getting there as fast as they can and will nodoubt give a good account of themselves.'

  "'You said just the same thing before Mons, Susan,' I reminded her.

  "'Hindenburg says he will spend a million lives to break the Alliedfront,' said Gertrude. 'At such a price he must purchase some successesand how can we live through them, even if he is baffled in the end.These past two months when we have been crouching and waiting for theblow to fall have seemed as long as all the preceding months of the warput together. I work all day feverishly and waken at three o'clock atnight to wonder if the iron legions have struck at last. It is then Isee Hindenburg in Paris and Germany triumphant. I never see her so atany other time than that accursed hour.'

  "Susan looked dubious over Gertrude's adjective, but evidentlyconcluded that the 'a' saved the situation.

  "'I wish it were possible to take some magic draught and go to sleepfor the next three months--and then waken to find Armageddon over,'said mother, almost impatiently.

  "It is not often that mother slumps into a wish like that--or at leastthe verbal expression of it. Mother has changed a great deal since thatterrible day in September when we knew that Walter would not come back;but she has always been brave and patient. Now it seemed as if even shehad reached the limit of her endurance.

  "Susan went over to mother and touched her shoulder.

  "'Do not you be frightened or downhearted, Mrs. Dr. dear,' she saidgently. 'I felt somewhat that way myself last night, and I rose from mybed and lighted my lamp and opened my Bible; and what do you think wasthe first verse my eyes lighted upon? It was 'And they shall fightagainst thee but they shall not prevail against thee, for I am withthee, saith the Lord of Hosts, to deliver thee.' I am not gifted in theway of dreaming, as Miss Oliver is, but I knew then and there, Mrs. Dr.dear, that it was a manifest leading, and that Hindenburg will neversee Paris. So I read no further but went back to my bed and I did notwaken at three o'clock or at any other hour before morning.'

  "I say that verse Susan read over and over again to myself. The Lord ofHosts is with us--and the spirits of all just men made perfect--andeven the legions and guns that Germany is massing on the western frontmust break against such a barrier. This is in certain uplifted moments;but when other moments come I feel, like Gertrude, that I cannot endureany longer this awful and ominous hush before the coming storm."

  23rd March 1918

  "Armageddon has begun!--'the last great fight of all!' Is it, Iwonder? Yesterday I
went down to the post office for the mail. Itwas a dull, bitter day. The snow was gone but the grey, lifelessground was frozen hard and a biting wind was blowing. The whole Glenlandscape was ugly and hopeless.

  "Then I got the paper with its big black headlines. Germany struck onthe twenty-first. She makes big claims of guns and prisoners taken.General Haig reports that 'severe fighting continues.' I don't like thesound of that last expression.

  "We all find we cannot do any work that requires concentration ofthought. So we all knit furiously, because we can do that mechanically.At least the dreadful waiting is over--the horrible wondering where andwhen the blow will fall. It has fallen--but they shall not prevailagainst us!

  "Oh, what is happening on the western front tonight as I write this,sitting here in my room with my journal before me? Jims is asleep inhis crib and the wind is wailing around the window; over my desk hangsWalter's picture, looking at me with his beautiful deep eyes; the MonaLisa he gave me the last Christmas he was home hangs on one side of it,and on the other a framed copy of "The Piper." It seems to me that Ican hear Walter's voice repeating it--that little poem into which heput his soul, and which will therefore live for ever, carrying Walter'sname on through the future of our land. Everything about me is calm andpeaceful and 'homey.' Walter seems very near me--if I could just sweepaside the thin wavering little veil that hangs between, I could seehim--just as he saw the Pied Piper the night before Courcelette.

  "Over there in France tonight--does the line hold?"