The journey had seemed endless: it was already nightfall when they
arrived at the town of Prentice, where they were to get off and drive
some twelve miles farther to her new home. And yet, endless and
unspeakably wearying as it was, her heart contracted to find that it was
at an end.
She realized now how comfortable, even luxurious, her trip across the
Continent had been by comparison. Then, she had traveled in a Pullman.
This, she learned, was called a day-coach. Her husband did everything in
his power to mitigate the rigors of the trip. He made a pillow for her
with his coat, bought her fruits, candies and magazines from the
train-boy, until she protested. Best of all, he divined and respected
her disinclination for conversation. At intervals during the day he left
her to go into the smoking-car to enjoy his pipe.
The view from the window was, on the whole, rather monotonous. But it
would have had to be varied indeed to match the mental pictures that
Nora's flying thoughts conjured up for her.
The dead level of her life at Tunbridge Wells had been a curious
preparation for the violent changes of the last few months. How often
when walking in the old-world garden with Miss Wickham she had had the
sensation of stifling, oppressed by those vine-covered walls, and
inwardly had likened herself to a prisoner. There were no walls now to
confine her. Clear away to the sunset it was open. And yet she was more
of a prisoner than she had ever been. And now she wore a fetter, albeit
of gold, on her hand.
It had been her habit to think of herself with pity as friendless in
those days; forgetful of the good doctor and his wife, Agnes Pringle and
even Mr. Wynne, not to speak of her humbler friends, the gardener's wife
and children, and the good Kate. Well, she was being punished for it
now. It would be hard, indeed, to imagine a more friendless condition
than hers. Rushing onward, farther and farther into the wilderness to
make for herself a home miles from any human habitation; no woman, in
all probability, to turn to in case of need. And, crowning loneliness,
having ever at her side a man with whom she had been on terms of open
enmity up to a few short hours before!
From time to time she stole furtive glances at him as he sat at her
side; and once, when he had put his head back against the seat and
pulled his broad-brimmed hat over his eyes and was seemingly asleep, she
turned her head and gave him a long appraising look.
How big and strong and self-reliant he was. He was just the type of man
who would go out into the wilderness and conquer it. And, although she
had scoffed at his statement when he made it, she knew that he had
brains. Yes, although his lack of education and refinement must often
touch her on the raw, he was a man whom any woman could respect in her
heart.
And when they clashed, as clash they must until she had tamed him a
little, she would need every weapon in her woman's arsenal to save her
from utter route; she realized that. But then, these big, rough men were
always the first to respond to any appeal to their natural chivalry. If
she found herself being worsted, there was always that to fall back
upon.
If from some other world Miss Wickham could see her, how she must be
smiling! Nora, herself, smiled at the thought. And at the thought of
Agnes Pringle's outraged astonishment if she were to meet her husband
now, before she had toned him down, as she meant to do. She recalled the
chill finality of her friend's tone when in animadverting on the
doctor's unfortunate assistant she had said: "But, my dear, of course it
would be impossible to marry anyone who wasn't a gentleman."
If by some Arabian Night's trick she could suddenly transport herself
and the sleeping Frank to Miss Pringle's side, she felt that that
excellent lady's astonishment at seeing her descend from the Magic
Carpet would be as nothing in comparison to her astonishment in being
presented to Nora's husband.
Her mind had grown accustomed already to thinking of him as her husband;
not, as yet, to thinking of herself as his wife.
At supper time they went into a car ahead, where Frank ate with his
accustomed appetite and Nora pecked daintily at the cold chicken.
And now they were at Prentice. For some minutes before arriving, Frank,
who had asked her a few moments before to change places with him, had
been looking anxiously out of the window, his nose flattened against the
glass. As they drew up to the station platform, he gave a shout.
"Good! There's old man Sharp. Luckily I remembered it was the day he
generally drove over and wired him."
"What for?"
"So that he could drive us home. He's a near neighbor; lives only about
a mile beyond us. He's married, too. So you won't be entirely without a
woman to complain to about me."
"I should hardly be likely to do that," said Nora stiffly.
"Bless your heart! I know you wouldn't: you're not that sort."
"I hope she's not much like Gertie."
"Gosh, no! A different breed of cats altogether."
"Well, that's something to be thankful for."
"This is Mr. Sharp; Sid, shake hands with Mrs. Frank Taylor."
It was the first time that she had heard herself called by her new name.
It came as a distinct and not altogether pleasant shock.
Once again her husband lifted her in his strong arms to the back seat of
the rough-looking wagon and saw to it that she was warmly wrapped up,
for, although there was little or no snow to be seen at Prentice, the
night air was sharply chill. She moved over a little to make room for
him at her side; but without appearing to notice her action, he jumped
lightly onto the front seat beside his friend.
"Let 'em go, Sid. Everything all comfortable?" he asked, turning to
Nora.
"Quite, thanks."
Throughout the long cold drive, they exchanged no further word. Frank
and Sid seemed to have much to say to each other about their respective
farms. Nora gathered from what she could hear that Sharp had played the
part of a good neighbor, during her husband's enforced absence, in
having a general oversight of his house.
"You'll find the fence's down in quite a few places. I allowed to fix it
myself when I had the spare time, but when I heard that you was comin'
back so soon, I just naturally let her go."
"Sure, that was right. It'll give me something to do right at home. I
don't want to leave Mrs. Taylor too much alone until she gets a little
used to it. She's always been used to a lot of company," Nora heard him
say.
She smiled to herself in the darkness and felt a little warm feeling of
gratitude. She was right in her estimate. This man would be tractable
enough, after all. His attitude toward women, which, had formerly so
enraged her, was only on the surface. An affectation assumed to annoy
her when they were always quarreling. How foolish she had been not to
read him more accurately. For the first time, she felt a little return
of self-confidence. She would bring this hazardous experiment to a
successful conclusion, after all. It was really failure that she had
most feared.
But her heart sank within her once more when at last they drew up in
front of a long, low cabin built of logs. Mr. Sharp had not overstated
the dilapidated state of the fence. It sagged in half a dozen places and
one hinge of the gate was broken. Altogether it was as dreary a picture
as one could well imagine. The little cabin had the utterly forlorn look
of a house that has long been unoccupied.
"Woa there! Stand still, can't you?" said Sharp, tugging at the reins.
"A tidy pull, that last bit," said Frank. "Trail's very bad."
"Stand still, you brute! Wait a minute, Mrs. Taylor."
"I guess she wants to get home."
Taylor vaulted lightly from his seat and, without waiting to help Nora,
ran up the path to the house. As she stood up, trying to disentangle
herself from the heavy lap-robe, she could hear a key turn noisily in a
lock. With a jerk, he threw the door wide open.
"Wait a bit and I'll light the lamp, if I can find where the hell it's
got to," he called. "This shack's about two foot by three, and I'm
blamed if I can ever find a darned thing!"
Nora smiled to herself in the darkness.
She got down unassisted this time. Under the bright and starry sky she
could see a long stretch of prairie, fading away, without a break into
the darkness. A long way off she thought she could distinguish a light,
but she could not be certain.
"I'll give you a hand with the trunk," called Sharp, laboriously
climbing out of the wagon. "Woa there," as the mare pawed restlessly on
the ground.
"I'll come and help you if you'll wait a bit. Come on in, Nora."
Nora hunted round among the numerous parcels underneath the seat until
she found a meshed bag containing some bread, butter and other
necessaries they had bought on the way to the station. Then she walked
slowly up the path to her home.
She had the feeling that she was still a free agent as long as she
remained outside. Once her foot had crossed the threshold----! It was
like getting into an ice-cold bath. She dreaded the plunge. However, it
must be taken. He was standing stock-still in the middle of the room as
she reached the door, his heavy brows drawn together.
"I'm quite stiff after that long drive."
The moment the words were out of her mouth she wished to recall them.
This was no way to begin. It was actually as if she had been trying to
excuse herself for not coming more quickly when she was called. His
whole attitude of frowning impatience showed that he had expected her to
come at the sound of his voice. His face cleared at once.
"Are you cold?" he asked with a certain anxiety.
"No, not a bit; I was so well wrapped up."
"Well, it's freezing pretty hard. But, you see, it's your first winter
and you won't feel the cold like we do?"
"How odd," said Nora. "I'll just bring some of the things in." She had
an odd feeling that she didn't want to be alone with him just now, and
said the first thing that entered her head.
"Don't touch the trunk, it's too heavy for you."
"Oh, I'm as strong as a horse."
"Don't _touch_ it."
"I won't," she laughed.
He brushed by her and went on out to the rig, returning almost instantly
with an arm full of parcels.
"We could all do with a cup of tea. Just have a look at the stove. It
won't take two shakes to light a fire."
"It seems hardly worth while; it's so late."
"Oh, light the fire, my girl, and don't talk about it," he said
good-humoredly.
On her knees before the stove, with her face as flushed as if it were
already glowing, Nora raked away at the ashes. Through the open doorway
she could see her husband and Mr. Sharp unfasten the trunk from the back
of the wagon and start with it toward the house.
"This trunk of yours ain't what you might call light, Mrs. Taylor," said
Sharp good-naturedly as he stepped over the threshold.
"You see it holds everything I own in the world," said Nora lightly.
"I guess it don't do that," laughed her husband. "Since this morning,
you own a half share in a hundred and sixty acres of as good land as
there is in the Province of Manitoba, and a mighty good shack, if I did
build it all myself."
"To say nothing of a husband," retorted Nora.
"Where do you want it put?" asked Sharp.
"It 'ud better go in the next room right away. We don't want to be
falling over it."
As they were carrying it in, Nora, with a rather helpless air, carried a
couple of logs and a handful of newspapers over from the pile in the
corner.
"Here, you'll never be able to light a fire with logs like that. Where's
that darned ax? I'll chop 'em for you. I guess you'll have plenty to do
getting the shack tidy."
After a little searching, he found the ax back of the wood-pile and set
himself to splitting the logs. In the meantime, Sharp, who had made
another pilgrimage to the rig, returned carrying his friend's grip and
gun.
"Now, that's real good of you, Sid."
"Get any shooting down at Dyer, Frank?"
"There was a rare lot of prairie chickens round, but I didn't get out
more than a couple of days."
"Well," said Sharp, taking off his fur cap and scratching his head, "I
guess I'll be gettin' back home now."
"Oh, stay and have a cup of tea, won't you?"
"Do," said Nora, seconding the invitation.
She had taken quite a fancy to this rough, good-natured man. In spite of
his straggly beard and unkempt appearance, there was a vague suggestion
of the soldier about him. Besides, she had a vague feeling that she
would like to postpone his departure as long as she could.
"I hope you won't be offended if I say that I would take you for
English," she said, smiling brightly on him.
"You're right, ma'am, I am English."
"And a soldier?"
"I was a non-commissioned officer in a regiment back home, ma'am," he
said, greatly pleased. "But why should I be offended?"
Nora and her husband exchanged glances.
"It's this way," Frank laughed. "Gertie, that's Nora's brother's
wife--down where I've been working--ain't very partial to the English. I
guess my wife's been rather fed up with her talk."
"Oh, I see. But, thank you all the same, and you, too, Mrs. Taylor, I
don't think I'll stay. It's getting late and the mare'll get cold."
"Put her in the shed."
"No, I think I'll be toddling. My missus says I was to give you her
compliments, Mrs. Taylor, and she'll be round to-morrow to see if
there's anything you want."
"That's very kind of her. Thank you very much."
"Sid lives where you can see that light just about a mile from here,
Nora," explained Frank. "Mrs. Sharp'll be able to help you a lot at
first."
"Oh, well, we've been here for thirteen years and we know the ways of
the country by now," deprecated Mr. Sharp.
"Nora's about as green as a new dollar bill, I guess."
"I fear that's too true," Nora admitted smilingly.
"There's a lot you can't be expected to know at first," protested their
neighbor. "I'll say good night, then, and good luck."
"Well, good night then, Sid, if you _won't_ stay. And say, it was real
good of you to come and fetch us in the rig."
"Oh, that's all right. Good night to you, Mrs. Taylor."
"Goodnight."
Pulling his cap well down over his ears, Mr. Sharp took his departure.
In the silence they could hear him drive away.
Nora went over to the stove again and made a pretense of examining the
fire, conscious all the time that her husband was looking at her
intently.
"I guess it must seem funny to you to hear him call you Mrs. Taylor,
eh?"
"No. He isn't the first person to do so. The clergyman's wife did, you
remember."
"That's so. How are you getting on with that fire?"
"All right."
"I guess I'll get some water; I'll only be a few minutes."
He took a pail and went out. Nora could hear him pumping down in the
yard. Getting up hurriedly from her knees before the stove, she took up
the lamp and held it high above her head.
This untidy, comfortless, bedraggled room was now hers, her home! She
would not have believed that any human habitation could be so hopelessly
dreary.
The walls were not even sealed, as at the brother's. Tacked, here and
there, against the logs were pictures cut from illustrated papers,
unframed, just as they were. The furniture, with the exception of the
inevitable rocking-chair, worn and shabby from hard use, had apparently
been made by Frank, himself, out of old packing boxes. The table had
been fashioned by the same hand out of similar materials. On a shelf
over the rusty stove stood a few battered pots and pans; evidently the
entire kitchen equipment. There were two doors, one by which she had
entered; the other, leading supposedly into another room. The one window
was small and low. Even in this light she could see that a spider had
spun a huge web across it. In the dark corners of the room all sorts of
objects seemed to be piled without any pretense of order.
She lowered the lamp and listened. Yes, she could still hear the pump.
With a furtive, guilty air she hurried to complete her examination
before he should surprise her.
One of the corners contained a battered suitcase and a nondescript pile
of old clothes, the other was piled high with yellowing copies of what
she saw was the Winnipeg _Free Press_ and a few old magazines.
"The library!" she said bitterly, and was surprised to find that she had
spoken aloud. Insane people did that, she had heard. Was she----?
She ran over to a shelf that had escaped her notice, and the ill-fitting
lamp chimney rattled as she moved. It was stacked high with the same
empty syrup cans that at Gertie's did the duty of flower-pots. But these
held flour, now quite mouldy, and various other staple supplies all
spoiled and useless. She started to say "the larder," but, remembering
in time, put her hand over her lips that she might only think it.
And now she had come to that other door. She must see what was there.
"Having a look at the shack?"
She gave a stifled scream and for a moment turned so pale that he
hastily set down his pail and went over to her.
"I guess you're all tuckered out," he said kindly. "No wonder. You've
had quite a little excitement the last day or two."
With a tremendous effort, Nora recovered her self-control. She walked
steadily over to one of the packing-box stools and sat down.
"It was silly of me, but you don't know how you startled me. Don't think
I usually have nerves, but--but the place was strange last night and I
didn't sleep very well."
"Do you mind if I open the door a moment?" she asked after a short
pause. "It isn't really cold and it looks so beautiful outside. One
can't see anything out of the window, you know, it's so cobwebby. I must
clean it--to-morrow."
Try as she would, her voice faltered on the last word.
She threw open the door and stood a moment looking out into the bright
Canadian night brilliant with stars. It was all so big, so open, so
free--and so lonely! You could fairly hear the stillness. But she must
not think of that. Ah, there was the light that she had been told was
the Sharp's farm. Somehow, it brought her comfort. But even as she
watched, the light went out. She came in and closed the door.