It was a beautiful day in the autumn when the frigate _Beaver_ passed
McNab Island and sailed up the long harbor to Halifax. Wonderful tints
of the forest, from russet brown through red, orange and yellow, to the
dark green of the juniper, stretched out beyond the little city, while
orchard trees laden with fruit, pasture lands cropped by the cows, and
stubble fields still golden from the harvest, added zest to the outlook
of the tired soldiers coming home from the war.
On the deck of the frigate sat Captain Morris, surrounded by a number of
men. The sick, the wounded, the well, were there; but they numbered all
told scarcely a third of the force that went out hale and buoyant for
the conflict only a few months before.
It had been heralded that the Halifax column was returning, and people
gathered at the dock to welcome them as they neared the landing. Among
the little groups of red-coats standing close together many a face was
recognized, and when Captain Morris, aided by a subaltern, rose to his
feet, the whole company were greeted with an enthusiastic cheer.
"Another for Captain Morris," called out a soldier fresh from the
Citadel. And they gave it.
"A tiger," was the next shout.
Again the yell was loud and long. This time the Captain, with long beard
and haggard face, limped forward, and with his left hand raised his
helmet in acknowledgment.
"It is good to have you home again," said Colonel Mason, whose carriage
was waiting for him. "You've lost in flesh, Morris, but, egad, you've
got it back in glory."
"How many of my men are dead, though," returned Morris, with a ghastly
smile, "and the poor devils who were wounded. See yonder man with both
legs shot off by a cannon ball, and the two at the side there, each
minus an arm."
"True enough," said Mason. "I'd rather be shot off the face of the earth
than maimed as that poor fellow is. But it's been rough on yourself,
Captain."
"I was lucky to get off as well as I did," said Morris, more cheerily.
"A month or two's rest and a sea voyage will do wonders for a man."
"Are you going so soon?"
"It won't be long."
That afternoon the Misses Maxwell called to see him. Maud wanted to
postpone the visit to the following day, but Eugenia insisted that it
was the right thing to do, and she would go alone, if Maud would not
accompany her.
"You have written to him twice," she said, decisively, "and as a
friend, if nothing more, it would be heartless to defer the visit."
Colonel and Mrs. Mason were with him when the young ladies were
announced. They were both shocked at his attenuated form, although
heightened color improved his appearance for the moment.
"You will excuse my rising," he said, as they shook hands. "The doctors
tell me that this pitiable limb of mine should not be moved more often
than I can help. I am a sorry scarecrow, too, and a left-handed one at
that."
"We are glad you are home again, and in Mrs. Mason's care," said Maud.
Her voice trembled and her face flushed, for his thin fingers held her
hand tightly.
"We'll feed him on the fat of the land," said Mrs. Mason, who had the
reputation of being an excellent purveyor for the sick.
"Captain Morris deserves all we can do for him," echoed the Colonel,
with a smile, "and what is more, I have it on good authority that his
name will appear in the next issue of the _Gazette_."
At this moment there was a rap on the door and the maid handed in a
paper.
"Here it is," said the Colonel, adjusting his spectacles. "First on the
list of promotions--'To the rank of Major, Albert Edward Morris, of C
Company, of the ----th Royals, for distinguished bravery in the
Anglo-American campaign.'"
"This is news to me," was Morris' comment.
Maud's eyes flashed, but they were looking out of the window and not at
him.
* * * * *
But the Major made slow progress toward recovery. The diversity and
extent of his wounds prevented rapid healing, and Christmas was long
past before the pain and the limp were gone. By March, however, he was
well again. Even the cicatrix on his scalp was invisible, for his hair
was made to cover it. Then he commenced to visit his friends as of old,
and there was no house in Halifax that he went to more frequently, or in
which he was more welcome than that of Judge Maxwell.
That he was a devoted admirer of Maud the whole family knew, but their
progress as lovers did not seem to be rapid. At least so thought
Eugenia.
"You have no heart," she said to Maud one day, indignantly. "You know
that he loves you, and yet you never give him an opportunity to declare
himself."
"If he desires he can surely make one," returned Maud, "but he is too
wise for that. What is the use of doing useless things?"
"Do you mean you really do not care for him?"
"Caring is not loving."
"You might say the same of Dr. Beaumont, and yet you correspond?"
"But I gave him a promise--"
"That you would not become engaged to anyone for a year," interrupted
her sister.
"Yes."
"That year expired months ago. You are free now to do as you please."
"Yes, and free to remain as I am. Is it not my own affair?"
Eugenia looked perplexed.
"But has Dr. Beaumont pressed his suit in his recent letters?" she
asked.
"He certainly has not. He is biding his time, nothing more."
"Surpassing his time, you mean. If in earnest he should have been here
before now, or at least have given good reason for delay."
"Don't be absurd, Eugenia, I did not say he hadn't given a reason."
"Well, reason or no reason, Major Morris is the better man of the two--a
brave soldier--a gallant officer--beloved by his men--of fine old
family--a good Churchman--and owner of a beautiful estate. Goodness
gracious! what has Dr. Beaumont to show in comparison with Major Morris
as an eligible match?"
"My dearest sister, you might be a scheming mamma, selling off your
daughter to the highest bidder!" exclaimed Maud, with a laugh. "'Pon my
word, though, it must be something else. Has Dr. Fairchilds so tied you
up that you are afraid another medico might do the same with me? Would
the double 'Vis Medicatrix,' as they call it, be too much for us,
altogether? Is that the issue?"
"Don't be unreasonable, Maud. You acknowledge that there is nothing
serious between you and Beaumont. He's a thousand miles away, living in
a little garrison in the woods without prospect of change. Major Morris,
on the other hand, is right here, and, although devoted to you, will be
ordered home again on one of the first ships. Now is an opportunity for
you that will never occur again."
"It is a serious question," said Maud, once more becoming grave. "When
is your marriage to take place? I have forgotten the exact date."
"The last Thursday in May."
"I doubt very much if the companies of the --nth Royals will sail before
then. There is still time enough, and rest assured, Genie, I despise a
woman who willingly entangles a man in order to throw him overboard."
"The very thing you are doing, though."
"Genie, you are unjust to me."
"The deed may not be wilful but the end is the same," persisted her
sister.
And Major Morris did not remit his attentions. Being off duty he
frequently doffed his uniform and appeared at the Judge's in laced coat,
knee breeches and silk stockings. Sometimes he had a spicy bit of news
to relate, a story from the camp, or an item from over the sea. It was
always interesting. He did not often find Maud alone; and he soon
discovered that he succeeded better in strengthening her regard by not
being too exclusive in his attentions.
He knew well that he had a rival; and although a touch of jealousy might
have been the real cause of his retention of that letter until reaching
Lundy's Lane, for he suspected that there was another one inside; yet,
he was too true a gentleman to make unwarranted capital at the expense
of the absent lover. If he could honorably win her hand and heart, and
carry Maud back to England on his return voyage as his wife, he would be
the happiest man alive; but to accomplish this by attempting to weaken
her regard for Beaumont, was not in his line. He must make her affection
for himself grow stronger. That was all.
When both he and Beaumont were away from Halifax, honors were easy, and
each could strive alike. But actual presence gave him the advantage, and
if he could not succeed in winning her love fairly, now that he had the
field to himself, Morris felt that he deserved to be vanquished.
Men do not die of broken hearts, however. The wound may be deep, but in
time it will heal; and he was willing to abide by the truth of his
philosophy.
"What luxuriant tulips, Miss Maud!" said the Major. This time he found
her alone, gathering them from a bed by the lilacs in her garden.
"Yes," she said, laughingly. "They stand shoulder to shoulder like
soldiers on a battlefield. You see how ruthlessly I am slaying them."
"Scarcely that," was his comment; "you are simply carrying off the
wounded."
"Ah!" she said, shaking her head; "but how many of the wounded will
live?"
"All of them; judging by your habit, they will simply die a natural
death."
"How do you make that out?" she asked, looking up quickly.
"Simply, that by putting them in water in the shade, as is your custom,
the flowers will live as long as when left on their stems in the
garden."
"Have you found the philosopher's stone yet?" she questioned with an
arch look.
"No," he replied, "only the observer's; but have you heard the latest
news? It only came an hour ago."
"No, what is it, please?"
"Sir George Head, who has been stationed with the men in Montreal all
winter, will be here in a week; and, with what remains of the --nth
Royals, will sail at once for England."
The announcement dropped very quietly from the Captain's lips, pregnant
though it was with so much to himself. Maud started and turned pale. The
mention of Sir George and the Captain's company in the same breath,
placed the Doctor and the Major in a relationship that she had
heretofore declined to realize. Something seemed imminent, she hardly
knew what.
"Which means that you will go with him," she said at last avoiding his
eye.
"Yes, Miss Maud, that is what it means; and besides the gruesome and
terrible things that have happened, the beautiful and happy days I have
spent in Halifax will be at an end."
"If the gruesome things have surpassed the pleasant ones, you will
rejoice when all is over," said Maud gently, regaining her self-control.
"In such case I know I should."
"Women are different from men," was his comment. "Perhaps men do not
balance things so clearly. With us I fear every experience of life
stands alone. The terrible reality of the slaying of a thousand men in a
night may be one thing; but the presence of a single thread of sunshine
which enthralls you and penetrates your whole being is another."
"You are very poetic as well as practical, Major Morris, and I think you
are right," said Maud, determined not to understand him. "What you say
of the soldiers is terribly sad; but about the sunshine, we have many
threads of sunshine here. I was born in Halifax and never even crossed
the ocean; but from all I hear we have five times as much sunshine in
Nova Scotia as you have in England."
"Egad! I suspect you are right," was his answer, as she went off in a
little ripple of laughter, her cheeks aglow with color. "It must be the
sunlight that freshens your beauty and puts that damask upon your
skin."
"Now you flatter. But 'pon my word it is a good thing. It makes you
brown as a berry in March, red as a rose in June, and blue as a plum in
November."
"I thought it was the wind that did the first as well as the last," he
said, watching her ever-changing face.
"It helps," she replied demurely. "But Old Sol always does his share."
"Well," he said dryly, "in my case the order will have to be changed. I
expect to go into the plum business in June."
"It is said to be a very fine industry," she said, looking downwards and
pulling the petals from the twig of lilac that she had broken from a
neighboring bush; "but in all conscience, I always thought you army men
looked down upon trade."
"No, indeed," he returned, smiling broadly, as he took in the humor of
the situation. "I don't believe in looking down upon any honest calling,
even raising plums."
And they both went off in a peal of laughter, though before she was
through, Maud's eyelids glistened with tears.