Preparations
The weeks slid past at a faster rate when the snow began to melt
and the water came over the rapids with a roar, and a rush that
threatened to sweep everything before it. Jervis went up to Ochre
Lake a day or two after Katherine brought him that dirty fragment
of paper, and offered to buy any more of the same kind of thing
which the Indians might happen to possess, and pay for it liberally
with tobacco. But no one appeared to know anything about the
scrap, and no one had any more fragments to offer in barter, so he
had to go away with the mystery unsolved. Then a week later, when
Katherine and Miles went to the encampment with a sledgeload of
provisions it was to find that the whole lot had vanished, leaving
the dug-outs, in which they had existed so long, deserted. There
was no chance of tracing them, for the very next day it began to
snow again, and after two days of uninterrupted snowfall it began
to rain, and everyone realized that spring was coming.
There had been no trouble on the score of 'Duke Radford's health in
this second winter. His mind was placid, though clouded still. He
was gentle and affectionate, and easily pleased, and he played with
the two little girls as if he had been one of themselves.
Katherine, watching him with anxious, loving eyes, noticed that now
he clung to Nellie more than he did to her. At first this raised
an acute jealousy in her heart, for she was very human, and in his
days of health and mental vigour her father had always clung most
to her; but a very little reflection brought her to see that this
change was really a matter for thankfulness, as he would not miss
her so much during her absence. It was good for Mrs. Burton, too;
for the more there were to love and depend upon her the easier did
she find it to rise to the occasion, and be ready to meet all the
demands upon her.
The great difficulty in arranging for an early marriage lay in
securing a minister to perform the ceremony. Directly the waters
were open, Jervis sent men with mails to Maxohama, with
instructions to bring back a clergyman with them--the bishop if
they could get him; but if he were not available, that is, if his
spring visitation had not begun, then some other clergyman must be
secured. He also sent a letter to Mr. Selincourt, urging that
gentleman's speedy return, stating as his reason the necessity
there might be for his own absence when the fishing commenced.
When the men had gone there were other preparations to be set
afoot, and, although five weeks might possibly elapse before the
men returned with the clergyman, arrangements for the ceremony had
to be set about without delay, because there was so much to be done.
A wedding in that out-of-the-way place was such an extraordinary
occasion that everyone at Seal Cove and Roaring Water Portage would
expect an invitation, so preparations must be made to welcome and
entertain the entire population. Katherine would have much
preferred to be quietly married in their sitting-room, with no one
but her own people to look at her; but Mrs. Burton protested loudly
at this, and even Jervis took sides with her, saying that everyone
would surely be disappointed if shut out.
"But you don't mean to ask everyone?" exclaimed Katherine.
"I expect everyone will want to come," Jervis replied, with a shrug
of his broad shoulders.
"Do you mean to ask Oily Dave, Bobby Poole, and all that lot?" she
cried in dismay.
"If they will come I shall be delighted to see them," he answered
gravely.
"But Oily Dave----" she began, then stopped as if she had no words
adequate to the expression of her feelings.
"Tried to kill me once, were you going to say? I know he did. But
perhaps if he had not fastened me in, to drown like a rat in a
hole, you would not have come to rescue me; and as that fact so
much out-balances the other, why, I feel rather in Oily Dave's debt
than otherwise."
It was the Sunday after the men had started with the mail for
Maxohama, and Jervis was walking with Katherine in the woods above
the first portage, while the laughing chuckle of the ptarmigan
sounded on all sides.
Katherine began to smile at the figure her wedding guests might be
expected to cut, then cried out in alarm: "Oh dear, whatever shall
we do if the bishop comes, as you have asked? What will he think
of such a mixed medley of folks?"
"I have no doubt that he will think it a fine opportunity for
preaching a sermon, and, as he is really a very eloquent man, he is
sure to be worth listening to," Jervis said quietly.
"There is one thing Nellie and I can't agree about, and I want you
to settle it for me," she said, facing round upon him with a sudden
gravity which surprised him, because she had been laughing only a
moment before.
"What is it?" he asked.
"Nellie wants to take French leave and borrow Mr. Selincourt's new
house for the wedding; but I should hate it!" she exclaimed
vehemently.
"There is no need--besides, Mr. Selincourt will probably be here.
Why not use the store? Your stocks of goods are nearly at their
lowest, and the people that could not get inside could stay
outside," he said.
Katherine drew a long breath of relief; then she said softly:
"Thank you; I thought you would not disappoint me. You never have;
I do not think you ever will. But Nellie said--"
"Yes, what did she say?" he asked, his voice very gentle now, as if
he understood something of the trouble and diffidence which lay
behind.
"Nellie said that you would not care to be married in a country
store, with cheese and bacon and all that sort of thing about. She
and Ted Burton were married so, but that was different," Katherine
answered jerkily.
"The store seems to me an ideal place for the ceremony, seeing that
we have no church. How do you feel about it yourself?" he asked
abruptly.
"I should prefer it there. Only, I wanted to be sure you would not
mind," she said, flinging her head up with a proud gesture,
although the laughing light had come back to her eyes.
"I think, my dear, that the man who marries you will be so
supremely fortunate that it will matter nothing whether the
ceremony is performed in a cathedral or an Indian dug-out," he
said, with a gravity that showed the words to be no empty
compliment, but the sincere expression of what he felt.
Katherine's lips quivered, but it was a day for smiles, not tears;
so she laughed in the nervous fashion with which she was apt to
cloak all deep emotion, and said: "I suppose the store may be
regarded as the middle way between the cathedral and the dug-out;
anyhow, it will be cleaner than the latter by a good long way. I
shall tell Nellie to-night that you are quite satisfied to be
married in the store, and then perhaps her scruples will vanish."
"We will hope so, at all events," he answered. "The easiest way to
issue invitations will be to chalk a notice on the board outside
the store, inviting anyone who wishes to be present at the wedding
of Miss Katherine Radford with Jervis Ferrars, date to be fixed
later on. That had better be attended to to-morrow, so that the
intending guests may have time to get their finery all in
readiness."
"Oh, what finery it will be!" exclaimed Katherine, with a ripple of
amused laughter. "There will be the oddest assortment of garments
that anyone can imagine. I believe Oily Dave possesses a 'top'
hat, and that will be certain to appear."
"Never mind; we shall survive, I dare say, and so will the bishop
if he comes," Jervis answered; and then the talk of the two
wandered on to the golden future which they were to spend together,
while the glad sunshine filtered down upon them through the pine
boughs, and the world was a joyous place because of the love which
made everything beautiful.
Jervis chalked the general invitation to the wedding on the board
outside the store next day, and great was the satisfaction which
the announcement produced. If everyone was invited, then no one
felt left out in the cold; and immediately there ensued a great
bustle of preparation for the function, which certainly would be
the event of the year to the dwellers on the bay shore.
Katherine and Mrs. Burton were busier than anyone, for they had the
store to spring-clean, and that was a task calling for hard work
and careful management. There was also the question of wedding
garments; but these, in consideration of the limited stock of
materials at their disposal, could not amount to much. For a
bridal dress, Katherine had decided on a white embroidered muslin
which had been her one extravagance when she was in Montreal, and
which was made with a high neck and long sleeves. Sometimes she
wondered if embroidered muslin were quite the right material for
the wedding dress of a fisherman's wife; but as she had no other
frock which would serve, it had to be that or nothing.
The days slipped away one by one, and at last they were watching
hourly for the return of the men who had been sent to Maxohama for
the clergyman. It was a glorious day early in June when Katherine,
who had been over to Fort Garry with Phil, was rowing up the back
creek, and came suddenly upon quite a procession of small boats
which was passing up river.
"Hurrah! It is Mr. Selincourt!" yelled Phil, pulling off his cap
and waving it like mad.
"And Mary!" exclaimed Katherine, who suddenly went rosy red, for in
the last boat of all was an elderly man, with a kind face and a
clerical air, whom she instantly recognized as the bishop from the
description Jervis had given her of him.
"Katherine, Katherine, how bonny you look!" cried Mary, and then
the boats came nearer together, and greetings became general.
Katherine was introduced to the bishop, who bowed and smiled in a
kindly fashion, although introductions at fifteen or twenty yards
apart are rather awkward affairs. Then Mary insisted on being
transferred to Katherine's boat, and as unceremoniously ordered
Phil to occupy the place she was leaving.
"Oh, my dear, I am glad to be back again!" she cried, as she
settled herself on the seat from which she had just turned Phil.
"We are very glad to see you back," Katherine answered soberly.
The sight of the bishop had set her pulses fluttering wildly, and
she was hardly mistress of herself again, as yet.
"The journey has been delightful," Mary rattled on, understanding
the cause of Katherine's fluctuating colour, and anxious to give
her time to recover from her confusion. "We are such a large
party, too, that it has been like a perpetual picnic, with only two
drawbacks which really mattered."
"What were they?" asked Katherine, supposing the drawbacks to be
some item of portage discomfort, or rainstorms which came at the
wrong time.
"The first was a horrid little man, a Mr. Clay, who has come all
the way from England to see Mr. Ferrars, and begged to be allowed
to attach himself to our party. A perfect little kill-joy he is,
so prim, so proper and precise, that one is tempted to believe he
must have been born a grown-up, and so has had no childhood at all."
"Where is he now? I did not notice that there was another stranger
beside the bishop," said Katherine, turning her head to look at the
other boats, which were leading.
"We left him behind at the fish sheds with Mr. Ferrars," said
Mary. "He has his own boat and his own men. He turns his
aristocratic little nose up at everything Canadian, and loudly
pities anyone who is fated to live two or three hundred miles from
a railway depot. But he apparently has the most utter admiration
for Mr. Ferrars, and the fright he was in the day we found the
bones was, I am quite sure, entirely due to a fear he had lest it
was Mr. Ferrars who had come to grief."
"What bones, and where did you find them?" asked Katherine, with a
start.
Mary shrugged her shoulders and answered: "Two days ago we did a
portage on the Albany, and came, at camping time, upon the gruesome
spectacle of two skeletons lying side by side under a little
shelter formed of snowshoes and spruce boughs. We supposed that
they must have been the Indians dispatched from Maxohama months ago
with mails, only there were no mail bags, and no food bags either;
so, of course, they might have been only ordinary Indians on a
journey. Our portage men insisted that the remains were those of
Indians, to the intense relief of Mr. Clay. The poor man was
plainly in a great state of worry about the remains, and kept
questioning Father as to whether there would be any likelihood of
Mr. Ferrars trying to work his way down to the railroad in
midwinter."
"I should think those Indians must have been the men who were
bringing the mail, and probably they were caught in a snowstorm and
died in their sleep," said Katherine.
"In that case what had become of the mail bags and the food sacks?"
asked Mary.
"Stolen, doubtless, by other Indians," replied Katherine, who then
told Mary of the discovery she had made of the fragment of a letter
in the hands of a child at the Ochre Lake encampment.
"So you never had that mail? Oh, you poor things, what a long time
you have been without any news of the outside world!" cried Mary.
"But we have survived it, you see," Katherine answered with a
laugh. Then she asked Mary if she would not like to be rowed to
the store first, before going to inspect the new house.
"Yes, please; I want to see your father and Mrs. Burton, to say
nothing of the twins and Miles," Mary answered eagerly. Then she
said, with a wistful note in her voice: "You will let me be
bridesmaid tomorrow?"
"To-morrow?" repeated Katherine in surprise. Then, blushing
vividly, she answered: "But I am not sure that it will be
to-morrow."
"I am," replied Mary calmly, "for the simple reason that the bishop
starts the day after for Marble Island, which he hopes to reach
before the whalers are all broken out of the ice. Father is going
to send him up the bay in the best available boat. You will let me
be bridesmaid, won't you?"
"If you wish, certainly," said Katherine; then the boat bumped
against the mooring post and was made fast, after which the two
girls walked up to the store together.
'Duke Radford was sitting in the sunshine, looking dreamily out
over the river, which at this time of the year was at its widest
and highest. He rose with a pleased exclamation when Mary came
into view, and took off his hat with a courtly air.
"I remember you quite well, and your coming always used to make me
happy, but I have forgotten your name," he said, apologetically.
"Call me Mary; it is easy to remember," she answered in a gentle
tone. Then she stayed in the sunshine talking to him, until Mrs.
Burton and the twins rushed out to carry her off by force.
It was Miles who rowed Mary over the river, for a fit of shyness
came upon Katherine, and she was not visible to many people except
her own family for the remainder of that day. Jervis came over in
the evening, and there was a troubled look on his face which
Katherine noticed at once.
"Is something wrong?" she asked, a chill of fear creeping into her
heart lest even at this eleventh hour something was coming to stand
between her and her happiness.
"I have only had a few more cares and responsibilities dumped upon
me than I had bargained for," he answered. "Do you feel equal to
helping me to bear them?"
"Of course," she answered brightly.
"Did they tell you about Mr. Clay's arrival?" he asked, holding her
hands, and looking down into her face with an expression she could
by no means fathom.
"Yes; Mary told me about him. She said he was a horrid little man.
Is it true?" Katherine asked, smiling at the remembrance of Mary's
energetic utterances.
"I think he means to be very kind," Jervis answered; "but the
journey has got on his nerves rather. However, I helped him to a
hot bath, and now he has gone to bed in a happier frame of mind;
and he wants to be best man to-morrow, so I have squared matters
with Miles. Do you mind?"
"Of course not," she answered brightly, thrusting back the feeling
of not wanting any more strangers to intrude themselves into that
holy of holies which was to take place to-morrow.
"Mr. Clay is the----I mean, he is a friend of the family, and he
has been good to my mother," Jervis went on, a curious air of
constraint showing itself in him, which might have been due to
nervousness, although he was not wont to be troubled in that
fashion. "Cousin Samuel died in February, and affairs have been at
sixes and sevens since, wanting my presence in England."
"You will have to go, then?" she asked quickly.
"We must start next week, I think," he answered, with an emphasis
on the pronoun that set her heart at rest. "Mr. Clay is going on
to Marble Island with the bishop to-morrow. He wants to see if
there is any boat there which will serve to take us round to
Halifax when the Strait is open. If not, we shall have to go by
river and trail to Maxohama; but I want to spare you that fatigue
if I can, for you have done quite enough portage work already."
"I would just as soon face the portages as the sea-sickness which
will inevitably be my portion going through the Strait," she
answered, with a laugh. "But where do the troubles come in,
Jervis? Did your cousin die poor?"
"Time enough to hear about the troubles when to-morrow comes. I am
not going to worry you with them to-night."