AMONG THE BEAUTIFUL ISLANDS.
And now they were rapidly approaching the gray, "limestone city,"
which rises picturesquely on its slope behind its line of wharves, and
elevators, and masts of vessels, with a certain quiet dignity not
unbecoming its antiquity, and derived, partly from its harmonious gray
coloring, and partly from the graceful towers and spires that form so
prominent a feature in its aspect. And it was by no means easy for May
to call up in imagination--as she tried to do--the wild, savage
loneliness of the place, with its wooded slopes, as yet untouched by
the hand of the settler, as it presented itself to LaSalle, when he
first discovered the advantages of making Cataraqui his base of
operations; or even as it was seen by the first detachment of U. E.
Loyalists, when their _batteaux_, slowly making their way up the St.
Lawrence, rounded the long promontory now surmounted by the ramparts
of Fort Henry. One tall tower, seen long before any other evidence of
a city appeared, belonged, the captain told them, to the Roman
Catholic Cathedral. Presently, however, extensive piles of fine public
buildings attracted their attention, which they found were
unfortunately the shelter of lunacy and crime, Kingston being the seat
of the Provincial Penitentiary, as well as of a large asylum. In
welcome contrast, they were shown the Gothic tower of Queen's
University, rising above an _entourage_ of trees, though far from
being as imposing in its dimensions as these palaces of gloom. From
thence, the eye wandered over other towers and domes and spires,
relieved by masses of verdure, which led them easily to believe the
captain's report that Kingston is a very attractive city, especially
when summer had embowered it in shade. And there were great schooners,
under a full spread of canvas, and massive lake steamers and
propellers, and little active steam-launches, flitting about, in
striking contrast--May thought--to the stillness of the scene, broken
only by the Iroquois canoes, when Frontenac's flotilla came in state
up the lonely river to found old Fort Frontenac.
"And what a glorious sheet of water around it!" exclaimed Hugh, taking
in with an admiring gaze the westward blue expanse of lake and the
great wide sweep of river studded with islands, stretching away to
eastward, which they told him was the St. Lawrence, at last. And then,
as they rounded the curve of the fine harbor, and saw before them, on
the one side, the fine cut-stone front of the City Hall and on the
other, on a long, green promontory, the Royal Military College, with
its smart Norman towers, they observed a long bridge behind which the
river Cataraqui winds its way down from the northeast, and forms this
beautiful harbor by its confluence with the St. Lawrence. Six miles up
its placid stream, they were told, the Rideau Canal had its beginning
at a picturesque gorge where are the first massive stone locks, which
form one of the finest pieces of masonry on the continent. This Rideau
Canal binds together a chain of lovely little lakes, and finally meets
the Rideau River, and so makes a convenient water-way to
Ottawa,--designed, it is said, by the Duke of Wellington, as a means of
intercommunication remote from the frontier.
"And where are the old _Tete-du-pont_ barracks?" asked May, who had
got that name, by heart, out of Parkman, that she might be able to fix
for herself the site of the old French fort which Frontenac had
inaugurated and La Salle had commanded. She was shown some gray stone
buildings, enclosing a quadrangle, at the nearer end of the long, low
bridge crossing the Cataraqui to the opposite plateau with the green
slope beyond it, on which stood the main defences of Kingston,--Fort
Henry above, and, near the Military College, certain round stone
towers, which, scattered about the harbor, gave quite an air of
military distinction to the place.
"I'm afraid none of them would be of much good, nowadays," remarked a
passenger, and Hugh laughingly assented, adding, "We may trust, I
hope, that they will never be needed."
"Not much danger, I think," was the reply. "We may have a tiff with
the 'States' once in a while; but there are too many Canadians there
now! We can't afford to quarrel."
They went, on landing, to a hotel bearing the appropriate name of
"Hotel Frontenac," where they did full justice to an early dinner.
And, after that, having a couple of hours or so to spare, before
starting for the island, they drove through the pleasant little city,
embowered in the shady avenues extending in every direction, its
streets striking off at all angles. Of course they went to look at the
two cathedrals, the Roman Catholic one being a massive Gothic building
with an equally massive tower, and at the graceful Gothic temple of
Queen's University, on its fine open _campus_, and then followed the
charming drive by the lake shore, till they passed the great, and as
they thought, gloomy masses of the Penitentiary and Asylum buildings,
and then came out on another unimpeded view of the blue lake. Then
returning, they drove back past quiet suburban residences, within
spacious and shady grounds, admiring the substantial and comfortable
look of the houses, and the tastefully kept surroundings;--and through
the pretty little park, stretching on one side, down to the breezy
lake shore, with its round stone tower, and, on the other, rising in a
gentle slope crowned by a stately Grecian court-house, with
picturesque church towers rising around it in the background. And at
one side of this park, they made a little _detour_ to look at the
Hospital, whose plain central building was the first local habitation
of the Parliament of Upper and Lower Canada, when Kingston for a few
years occupied the position of capital of the recently united
provinces. Then returning to their boat, they passed a handsome
post-office and custom-house, of which, with her spacious city hall,
Kingston is naturally somewhat vain. The houses they passed were
bright with window flowers and baskets of blooming plants, prettily
relieving the green sward in front; and they all agreed that Kingston
bore worthily enough its _prestige_ of being the oldest historical
city in Ontario--the present name of western Canada.
But though it was nearly four o'clock, and the beautiful islands were
before them--they went to snatch, at May's desire--a peep at the old
_Tete-du-pont_ barracks, with weather-worn gateway and interior
square, in which, when the foundations of the barracks were laid,
there were some traces found of old Fort Frontenac, which had
therefore evidently stood on that very site. May, at least, looked at
it with a sincere reverence, as she thought of how many changing
phases of fortune in her hero's history that square had been the
scene.
But now it was almost four o'clock, and they must hasten to the boat
that was to carry them to the beautiful islands which had been
beckoning them so long. As the Pierrepont glided out of the protected
harbor, the afternoon sun lighted up the grey mass of the city, and
the Norman towers of the Royal Military College, standing on its strip
of _campus_, to their left, as they entered the real St. Lawrence,
while beyond it rose above them the green hill-slope which forms the
_glacis_ of the low, long-stretching ramparts of Fort Henry, with its
fortified water-way, and the round grey towers at its base. And as
they rounded its long promontory, leaving the distant city behind it,
May once more tried to picture the solitude of the scene as La Salle
first knew it, broken only by his own canoe and those of the ferocious
Iroquois. Meantime Hugh, not less interested in the historical
associations of the place, drew from her, by cross-questioning, an
outline of some of the tragic events of which Fort Frontenac had been
the scene. But gradually the charm of the present hour asserted itself
and all else was forgotten in watching the changing beauty of the
scenery around them. A slight thunder-shower seemed to have purified
the air, and the brightly shining sun lighted up the rich green of the
woods, the golden tones of the harvest fields on the shores they were
passing, and the grey rocks and shaggy foliage of some scattered
islets on their course, one of which, Cedar island, was crowned by a
round tower,--islets which were, they were told, really the outrunners
of the great archipelago farther down the river. As they passed the
water-rampart of the fort, Hugh observed that it seemed to be falling
to pieces, and remarked that the government might look better after
its property.
"It may just as well go to pieces," said a voice behind them. "It
would be of very little use if we did go in for conquest, and I hope
there is no likelihood of any serious hostilities between the two
countries."
--"Well, Mrs. Sandford, have you forgotten me?" the voice continued.
"How do you do, Miss Severne? I am delighted to meet you again."
Kate had looked up with a start as the first tones of the stranger's
voice caught her ear, and perhaps there was just a tinge of heightened
colour on her cheek as she greeted the speaker with her usual frank
ease.
"Why, Mr. Winthrop! I never thought of encountering you in this quiet
corner of the world. What accident brings you this way?"
"It was not quite an accident," he replied, smiling. "I met Jack
Armstrong yesterday on the train between Port Hope and Cobourg, and he
told me of your arrangements; and as I just got in an hour or two ago,
and found out that this was the speediest way of getting over to
Clayton, where I am bound for a few days' fishing, I thought I would
waylay you--and here I am, as you see."
"As we are very glad to see," Kate replied, gracefully. "Let me
introduce my cousin, Miss Thorburn, and my Scotch cousins, Mr. and
Miss Macnab."
May eyed the newcomer critically, and a little jealously, for in the
interests of the incipient romance that she had begun to weave for
Kate and Hugh, she did not relish his appearance--especially taken in
connection with the remarks she had heard from Nellie Armstrong. He
was, however, as she could not help admitting, a very pleasant-looking
man, not very young, in fact, a good deal older than Hugh Macnab, with
keen, scrutinizing gray eyes and mobile face, full of intelligence and
expression. To May, Hugh's was much the finer face, but she could not
help feeling that Mr. Winthrop's was decidedly attractive, and she
inwardly trembled for the prospects of the younger man. She felt that
Mr. Winthrop's quick glance took in the whole _personnel_ of the
little party, as the introductions were made.
"Well, Mrs. Sandford," he resumed, when he had courteously greeted
each in turn, his eye resting for a moment, with evident admiration
upon the rosy, fresh-faced Scotch lassie,--"I hope you are prepared in
the goodness of your heart, to extend a little toleration to a
reprobate Republican like me. I'll try not to wound your sensibilities
quite so much, this time!"
"Oh, you didn't hurt me at all!" said that lady, good-humoredly. "I
know you don't mean any harm; it's the way you were brought up. But
you must not put traitorous ideas into these young people's heads.
There's Kate, now----"
But here that young woman hastily interposed: "Would you mind getting
us another seat, Mr. Winthrop?" said she, "Miss Macnab is quite in the
sun."
Mr. Winthrop at once performed the suggested service, and then, the
previous topic having been shunted off, the whole party surrendered
themselves to the dreamy charm of the afternoon--of the golden sunshine
and dappling shade, that threw such a spell of beauty over the
undulating shore, with its yellow harvest-fields and deep, green
woods, country houses gleaming white through trees, and comfortable
farmhouses nestling amid bowery orchards, beginning to be weighed down
with their load of fruit.
The real width of the river, here about eight miles, is at some points
narrowed down to apparently two or three miles and sometimes much
less, by the large islands that divide it and extend for some twenty
miles below Kingston. One of these--Howe Island, named after a British
general--cuts off a very picturesque channel down which lay the course
of their boat. At intervals of a few miles, the boat stopped at
primitive wharves, where the country folk, who had been to market,
landed with their innumerable parcels and baskets, of all shapes and
sizes, farming implements, perambulators, etcetera. At one landing
they put ashore a pile of dressed lumber--at another, a horse; at still
another, the heterogeneous mass of luggage belonging to a family
"going into _villegiatura_"--as Mrs. Sandford put it--including a great
box containing a parlor organ. For the farmer-folk their horses and
conveyances were patiently waiting, and very soon they might be seen
driving slowly homewards along the country roads that followed the
curve of the shore, or struck back among the fields and woods. A
beautiful, new, varnished boat that had excited Hugh's rather envious
admiration from the time he came on board, was at last unshipped and
rowed away by its happy owner, whose camping outfit proclaimed that he
was bound on a delightful holiday. Here and there they caught glimpses
of white tents and gay flags, where lived a little community of
campers, who waved their handkerchiefs as the boat went by; and
cheered as if a steamboat were a new and unheard-of triumph of
inventive skill. At one point, the shore of the island to their right,
rose picturesquely into high banks clothed with a rich growth of
light, fluttering birch and sombre cedar, the contrast of which
delighted the travelers. There was quite a romantic-looking landing
here, beside an old ruined lime-kiln, and the road wound picturesquely
up the wooded height, the two or three figures seen walking up the
winding path, as the boat receded, looking--May declared--"just like
people in the beginning of a story."
"And so they are--or in the middle of it," said Mr. Winthrop. "Each of
us is living in a story of our own, after all, and I suppose each
would have its own interest if it could only be read just as it is."
"Only some stories are more interesting than others," suggested Hugh.
"And those people evidently think theirs is particularly interesting
just now," remarked Kate, for they were just passing a little cluster
of tiny cottages and tents, where a large and merry party were
summering, with much display of bright bunting and many skiffs; and
where young and old alike seemed to get into a state of wild
excitement as the boat passed, saluting her with horns and a white
flutter of handkerchiefs that might have passed for a flight of
pigeons. The captain of the steamboat courteously returned the salute
with his steam whistle, with the laconic remark: "Makes them feel
happy," which seemed true, for the demonstrations were renewed with
fresh vigor and continued till the little encampment was out of sight.
But the dark thunder-clouds had been again stealing up behind them,
and now the lights on the shore and the foliage disappeared, the
cedars looking especially sombre in the growing gloom.
"There's a squall coming down the river," said Hugh Macnab, who had
been watching from the stern the pretty grouping of the small islands
that here studded the channel.
"Yes, indeed," said Kate. "They often come up here suddenly. Look how
one point after another is sponged out by the gray mist. See there,
how the rain is driving down over there already."
"And it will be here in a minute," said Mr. Winthrop, rising hastily.
"Come, you must all get into the centre of the boat, well under the
awning, if you won't go down stairs."
Mrs. Sandford thought it best to retreat to the cabin below, being
afraid of thunder, but all the others protested that it was much too
interesting to watch the arrival of the storm. At a suggestion from
Mr. Winthrop, however, he and Hugh made a dash down to the cabin for
wraps and umbrella, returning in a second or two with an armful of
waterproofs, in which the ladies were all carefully wrapped before the
first heavy rain-drops came pattering down on deck. And then, for a
minute, how they _did_ come down, lashing the deck till it was
flooded;--even where they sat the drops flew, into their faces, and,
but for the waterproofs, would have drenched their garments. Kate, who
loved a storm, was looking brilliantly handsome, and so--May was
sure--thought Mr. Winthrop, who kept his position near her, so as to
shelter a little from the onslaught of the rain. And how--she inwardly
wondered--would Hugh Macnab like the sudden invasion from this stranger
and foreigner, who seemed to make himself so very much at home? She
fancied that his somewhat sensitive face looked clouded, but perhaps
it was only the reflection of the clouds without, for, presently when
the rain-drops gradually ceased, and the sun shone out again,
brighter, as it seemed, than ever, his face brightened, too, and he
watched eagerly for the first appearance of what might properly be
called the real Thousand Island group.
"There they are!" Kate exclaimed, at length, as some soft, cloud-like
forms loomed up against the distant horizon, still somewhat misty with
the receding rain. "See how they cluster there together! And do you
see those tiny white specks? Those are the lighthouses that mark the
channel. And there, if you can catch a glimpse of some white houses
beyond those islands--, those are part of the poetically named town of
Gananoque, '_Rocks in Deep Water_,' as the Indian name signifies. And
it is a good enough description, if only they would have added 'Rocks
in Shallow Water' as well; for there is certainly no lack of rocks in
either the depths or the shallows!"
And now the little steamer began to wind in and out among the
clustered islets, some of them little more than rough granite crags,
bristling with wind-tossed pines, others masses of tangled foliage,
and others still, partially cleared, with fanciful little cottages
embowered in trees and clustering vines. At some of these cottages the
inhabitants, like the campers, amused themselves by blowing a horn as
a salute, to which the steamer amiably responded, after which there
would be another flutter of handkerchiefs from the loungers on the
verandas or by the shore.
"Well," said Hugh, "though we know it really means nothing, it does
seem pleasant to be waved at, as if one were coming home!"
"And yet the same people would only stare critically at you if they
met you in the street."
"It's the air of these charming islands," laughed Kate. "It makes
every one so genial and overflowing with the milk of human kindness
that they can't help expressing it all round!"
"Or so idle that even this mild excitement is entertaining," said Mr.
Winthrop.
"Wait till you have tried it a little while!" said Kate. "Perhaps even
you may grow less cynical there. But where are you going now?"
"I believe this little steamer will take me to Clayton to-night. My
friends are there fishing, and are expecting me to join them."
"And that is how far from here?" asked Hugh.
"About eight miles," Kate replied--"on the American side of the river."
"Oh, then, we shall meet again, I hope, and improve our acquaintance,"
said Hugh, as he rose in response to Mrs. Sandford's commands, for now
they had rounded the last island and were rapidly approaching the
pretty little town of Gananoque, while the slanting rays of the
westering sun threw out the foliage of the islands and the shore into
the richest green, and gave the whole scene its brightest aspect.
Close by the wharf lay a tiny steam-yacht, on whose floating pennon
Kate speedily recognized the name "_Oneida_," and in a moment more the
waving of white handkerchiefs announced the presence of the friends
who were waiting them there. To May it seemed like a fairy tale to be
received into a private steam-yacht as an expected guest, instead of
the open skiff she had been looking for. It was more than ever like a
dream;--the little cabin, the dainty furnishings, the miniature engine
with its polished brass fittings--everything seemed new, beautiful,
delightful. Flora Macnab was equally delighted, declaring she had
"never seen such a dear wee vessel before;" and Hugh, though quiet as
usual, mentally noted everything with much satisfaction. Mr. Winthrop
accompanied them on board, carrying Kate's wraps, and was just
hurrying off back to the steamer when their host, Mr. Leslie, after a
brief introduction, urged that he should accompany the others as his
guest.--"For I can assure you we can always make room for one guest
more,"--he said with cheery hospitality.
But Mr. Winthrop declined the invitation with many thanks, on the
ground that his friends were expecting him, adding that if he might be
allowed to come a little later, for a day or two, he should be
delighted to do so.
"Any time you will," said Mr. Leslie, and he hurried off to catch his
boat, which was on the point of starting again, while the others were
duly introduced to the members of Mr. Leslie's family who had come to
meet them. The little steam-yacht only waited for a supply of baskets,
containing supplies, to be stowed away on board, and then it, too,
uttered its shrill little parting whistle, and darted off on its way
to the island, some miles distant, which was Mr. Leslie's summer home.
To May it seemed like fairyland--this little evening sail among these
lovely islands, in a yacht so low as to bring the eye on a level with
their base, and not going too fast to enable her to enjoy in detail
the beauty of lichen-crested rocks festooned with creepers and wild
roses, and of still, placid reaches, dyed crimson and purple by the
sunset hues, where clusters of snowy water-lilies were shining like
stars amid the dark leaves. In the subdued evening light, the nearer
islands were so soft a green--the distant ones looked softly purple in
the light haze that helped to idealize the scene,--that May, for one,
would have liked to wind in and out in this dreamy, leisurely fashion
for hours, and was almost sorry when she was startled from her dream
by the shrill whistle of the yacht, and found they were nearing a
little rustic pier flanked by dusky pines and cedars.
The party were soon disembarked amid the lively little group that
stood awaiting them on the pier--young men in boating flannels, lively
children, young girls in cool, light blouses and dark blue skirts.
Ready hands seized packages and baskets, and then they all followed an
ascending, fragrant, sloping path that led between lichened rocks and
nodding ferns to an open glade higher up, where stood their pretty
summer cottage, with its wide verandas, looking capacious enough to
accommodate two or three city houses. Mr. and Mrs. Leslie were
excellent hosts; and, in a few minutes, every one was conducted to a
room, and May found herself installed in what she mentally styled the
dearest little nest, up under the eaves, commanding what seemed, in
the transfiguring evening light, the most enchanting view of the
island-studded channel. It reminded her of her room and window at the
_Clifton_;--both views so beautiful, and yet so altogether different.
But she was not long left to her dreaming, for a peremptory horn
sounded, and Kate and Flora were calling to her to hasten down to tea.
Downstairs, in a simply-furnished room, with large French windows
opening on a wide piazza, they found a long tea-table spread for the
recent arrivals--the rest of the party having already finished their
evening meal, being, indeed, too hungry to wait for anybody.
"For we're all as hungry as hawks here!" declared one of the merry
girls in a boating-dress. "Between boating and fishing and running
about, we're out all day long, and that gives one no end of an
appetite."
After tea there was a delicious hour or two on the veranda, the only
alloy being the visits of a few mosquitoes. "Nothing like what we have
had, however," Mrs. Leslie observed. "We've often been obliged to
retreat within the shelter of our mosquito-blinds in the evening. But
to-morrow will be the first of August, and we are not likely to be
troubled with them much longer."
"That is a comfort!" exclaimed Flora, who seemed to be a favorite
victim of the troublesome little insects. "But how startlingly bright
the fireflies are," she said presently, as it grew darker, and the
scintillating living sparks of fire--as they seemed--flashed in and out
of the trees, giving the impression--as Hugh remarked--that they might
really set fire to them. And presently she joyously descried, faintly
visible near the horizon, a silver thread of crescent moon, the
promiser of much additional enjoyment during the weeks of their stay.
Next morning was as charming a morning as any one could have desired
to see. The river lay still and calm, and blue as a dream, sleeping,
as it seemed, in the embrace of the clustering green islands, which
looked so fresh and so cool in the early morning light. May was so
excited that she could not sleep a moment after the first rosy gleams
of sunshine stole into her casement, which she had left wide open,
that she might not lose a moment of the view which had so delighted
her the evening before. As she dressed, she feasted her eyes on the
delicious freshness of the early morning, on the exquisite tint of the
water here and there, just rippled by the faintest breeze, the soft,
distant, blue islands that seemed to float on the placid stream like
"purple isles of Eden," the rich contrast of dark evergreen and rich
deciduous foliage, on the nearer shores, till it all seemed too
exquisite for a reality, and in the stillness of the morning she felt
as if she were still in a dream.
She was soon dressed, however, and hastened down, eager to explore,
all alone, the island where she was. She had only to go a few steps
from the piazza to find herself among the primitive rocks, crusted
with gray lichen and cushioned with soft, velvet moss, or overhung
with the glossy foliage of the bear-berry or the vines of the
whortle-berry, from which the dark blue fruit was dropping as she
raised them. She followed a winding pathway leading under a fragrant
archway of overhanging foliage, which wound its way in a rambling
fashion about the island, giving, now and then, lovely glimpses,
vistas between mossy banks of rock, or pretty little vignettes framed
in by an overhanging hemlock. At length, after making pretty nearly
the tour of the island, wending her way among thickets of feathery
sumach and broad-leaved rubus, bearing deep crimson flowers, with long
festoons of partridge-berry, and its white, star-like flowers amid the
pine-needles under her feet, and finding, to her great delight, some
specimens of the exquisite, snowy Indian-pipe, looking--in the early
morning light--more ghostly than ever--she found herself at the little
landing beside the boat-house, where they had disembarked on the
previous evening. There she sat down to rest on a rustic seat, placed
so as to command a charming vista, with a tiny island in the
foreground, which she was absorbed in contemplating, when the plash of
oars broke in upon her reverie, and she turned to see who might be the
early oars-man. It was Hugh Macnab, arrayed in white flannels, with a
lovely cluster of wild roses in his hand. He greeted her with a smile
and came up at once, holding out the roses as he approached.
"I scarcely expected to find any one up yet," he said, laughing. "I
came out just about dawn, to have the full enjoyment of this exquisite
morning, and thought I would try a little cruise by myself to see
whether I had forgotten the rowing I learned in my Oxford summer. And
I found a little island out yonder, so inviting for a swim that I
couldn't resist it. I should like to show you that same little
island,'"--he added. "It's only a little way; won't you come? But what
is that you have got in your hand?" he said, looking at the waxen
flowers she held.
May explained what the ghostly little plant was, and he eagerly took
it in order to examine it. "Oh, yes, I've read of this curious
plant,"--he said. "I am so glad to actually see one! Now, suppose we
exchange bouquets, if you will take my roses for your spectral
flowers. I brought them over from that island, intending to give them
to the first lady I met. Please take them;--it's a case of the early
bird getting the worm, you know."
For May at first hesitated a little. She felt as if the roses ought by
right to go to Kate, but then she could not say so. So she ended by
thanking him as gracefully as her embarrassment would let her, and
putting the roses carefully in her belt. They were lovely roses, too,
of a peculiarly deep crimson, as the late wild roses are, and
glistening still with the early dew. Hugh placed his "Pipes" carefully
in his hat, for the present, and then led the way to the pretty cedar
skiff, with its luxurious cane east chair at the stern, in which she
took her seat, with a little inward wonder whether she were doing
quite right, and the skiff was soon rapidly cleaving its way through
the glassy water under the quick strokes of Hugh's oar. It was
wonderful, she thought, how much he seemed to have improved in health
and spirits during the fortnight which had passed since she had first
met him; and how much more color and animation he now had. Surely, she
thought, Kate would never be so blind as to prefer _that_ Mr.
Winthrop, who, to her eye, was so much less attractive-looking than
Hugh! She was too much preoccupied in thinking out this problem to say
much, though she could silently take in the loveliness of the scene.
Rounding a rocky point covered with wild roses, from which Hugh had
picked his bouquet, they found themselves in a tiny bay, where the
limpid wavelets lapped gently upon a beach of silver sand, while the
rocks of rosy granite which formed the bay were draped in part with a
tangle of luxuriant creepers and crested with sweeping pine-boughs.
Presently the boat grated on the sandy beach, and Hugh handed her out
of the boat and led the way to a granite ledge commanding an exquisite
view of sleeping river and clustering islets. The river lay almost
absolutely still, only barred here and there with long streaks of
ripple that betokened an incipient breeze. The heavy masses of verdure
on the opposite shore and the surrounding islands seemed also asleep;
only an occasional carol of a bird broke the charmed silence. May and
her companion were very silent also, for ordinary talk in such a spot,
at such an hour, seemed well-nigh profane, and both were too reserved
to express the deeper feelings the scene awakened. After a silent
interval, May turned to call Hugh's attention to a distant sail just
catching the still slanting rays of the sun, when she noticed that he
had taken a slip of paper which had been lying in the boat and was
writing rapidly. She refrained from disturbing him, for how could she
tell that he might not be writing _poetry_? But he had caught her
movement, and presently stopped writing and turned towards her, when
the slip of paper, which he was holding carelessly, was caught by the
freshening breeze and carried close to her feet. She naturally stooped
to pick it up, and involuntarily glancing at it, could see that it
_was_ poetry; but Hugh caught it from her, with so much apparent
discomposure, coloring vividly, that May felt sure he was annoyed by
her intervention, and felt a little uncomfortable; the more so because
she could not say anything about it. She wondered whether the verses
had any reference to Kate, since he seemed so much afraid of their
being seen. They rowed back as silently as they had come, and the
momentary annoyance soon cleared off the faces of both under the
potent charm of the exquisite beauty around them. They found only the
children astir; but Kate and Flora, when they came down soon after to
breakfast, were very curious to know what May had been doing with
herself--out all alone "almost before daylight," they declared--and
especially curious to know from whence she had got the lovely little
bouquet of wild roses that looked so charming in her belt. But May
laughingly declared that she did not intend to tell where she got it;
and Hugh, of course, said nothing about it. She did not, however, wear
it long. The roses were carefully put away before they withered, and
eventually some of them were pressed to serve as a memento of the
loveliest morning, May thought, that she had ever seen. She told Kate,
however, that Hugh had given her a row to a neighboring island,
feeling a little guilty as she did so. But Kate only remarked, as if
the thing were a matter of course: "Well, I'm glad Hugh has gained so
much in energy! Since he can row so well, I shall make him row me
about everywhere!"
Both she and Flora, however, soon found that they had an _embarras des
richesses_ in the matter of rowing, for there were half a dozen
youthful oarsmen ready and eager to row or paddle them wherever they
desired to go, so that Hugh's services were not so much in demand, and
it happened, not infrequently, that May found herself his companion in
their boating expeditions, and as she had not had much opportunity for
rowing, he undertook to teach her to use the oars in a more artistic
manner than she had as yet attained, which proved a very interesting
occupation to both; though May sometimes regretted that Kate so often
declined to accompany them, fancying that it really hurt Hugh.
That day and several others glided away only too swiftly. No one could
imagine where the hours had gone. There were evening rows, and sails
in a good-sized sailboat, always at the disposal of any of the party
who cared to use it, and aimless meanderings through the tangled paths
of the island, sometimes with the ostensible object of berry-picking,
for the wild raspberries were still found in great abundance, and were
in great request for breakfast and tea. In the forenoon there was
always a general bathing party, when the young men took themselves to
one end of the island, in order to practise their aquatic feats by
themselves, and the girls, in their loose, short bathing suits,
disported themselves to their hearts' content in the limpid tide, in a
pretty little sandy bay, lined to the water's edge with luxuriant
foliage, which almost concealed the little rustic bathing box. Then
there was the luxurious lounge, with a pleasant book, before the early
dinner, in a shady corner of the veranda, for these August days were
pretty warm. For a while after dinner there was a suspiciously quiet
air about Sumach Lodge, as it was called; but when the heat of the day
began to give place to the cool afternoon breeze, the little party
began to wake up from its _siesta_, and skiffs and canoes were hauled
out and filled, as little groups departed on various expeditions, some
simply to explore island nooks, some to fish, and some to gather the
water-lilies which grew in a secluded bay not far off, or, on a breezy
afternoon, to try a sailing cruise in a pretty "butterfly" sailboat
belonging to one of he young men, who was always glad to muster a
crew. In the cool of the evening the "boys" often tried their canoe
races, sometimes playfully wrestling as they passed each other, for
they never minded an upset, but were back in their canoes again almost
as soon as they were out of them. And now that the moon was rapidly
growing in size and light, no one wanted to do anything in the
evening, but sit on the veranda or the shore, and enjoy the charming
moonlight effects. May, of course, was never tired of watching the
tremulous path of silver stretching from island to island, or the
exquisite effect when some picturesque cluster of islets stood out in
dark relief on what seemed a silver sea, and--a very unusual
phenomenon--when the shadow of the island was thrown across its
reflection in the scarcely rippled river. Hugh Macnab, like herself,
seemed fascinated with the mysterious beauty of the moonlit scene, and
was frequently suspected of endeavoring to reproduce its charm in
verse.
These seemed truly enchanted evenings, which no one wished to cut
short, so that May found that the late hours she kept at night came a
good deal in the way of the enjoyment of those early morning hours
which she had at first thought so delightful. But, with such moonlight
pictures spread around them for their delectation, it seemed a waste
of privileges to spend any of these wonderful hours in sleep; and as
the moon grew later and later so did the hours of the junior members
of the party.
One of the favorite spots which May, for one, was never tired of
visiting, either under the idealizing influence of moonlight or in the
rich glow of sunset, was a charming little land-locked bay which wound
its way for some distance into one of the larger islands in the
vicinity. The entrance looked like any other curving recess of the
shore, but, once within, it was a surprise to find the bay continuing
its course like a tiny river, between banks of high jagged crags,
partially draped with nodding birch, shaggy hemlock, and spreading oak
and maple. And however rough the waves might be outside of this
charmed spot, the water within was always calm and glassy in its
stillness. In its innermost recess, where further progress was stayed
by the increasing shallowness of its bed, reeds and water-plants grew
and clustered, water-lily leaves lay floating as if asleep, and here
the little basin was walled in on one side by a sheer, bare granite
cliff, concave towards the basin, and evidently worn smooth, in the
long past, by the action of grinding ice, though its bareness was
relieved, here and there, by a drooping birch or a cluster of shaggy
ferns. At the top of the wall of scarred, lichen-crusted rock, were
some of the curious natural perforations known as "pot-holes,"
apparently formed by the action of a stone revolving in a crevice
under glacial action. The opposite bank was more sloping and densely
wooded, and the effect in the moonlight, under a rich sunset sky, was
peculiarly striking and impressive. This secluded spot was sometimes
used by the summer residents of the neighborhood as a natural chapel,
where a little congregation assembled in their boats for a short
service, with a shorter address, in circumstances which might well
recall the divinest sermon ever preached; and made Hugh Macnab think
of secret services attended by his covenanting ancestors in the
secluded Highland glens which hid them from their persecutors. Very
different, however, were _these_ happy meetings. The songs of praise
seemed to gain a peculiar sweetness from the tranquil quietude of the
spot, while the vesper carol of a bird occasionally blended with the
human melody. Every part of the service was just as solemn as in any
church built with hands, and the very novelty of the surroundings
tended to carry some of the "winged words" into hearts which might
have heard them unheedingly under ordinary circumstances.
On the cooler and more breezy afternoons the "butterfly sailboat" set
out with a merry crew for a more extended voyage, flying hither and
thither, as the wind suited and inclination prompted. Or the little
steam-yacht was called into service, and a large party would start for
a prolonged cruise, winding in and out of the many Channels, as the
fancy guided, steering down the broad, breezy reach that lay between
the main shore and the clustering islands, with the cool, sparkling
waves within touch of their hands, as the little screw turned them up
in showers of sparkling diamonds on the azure behind, while one lovely
channel after another spread itself before them in fascinating vista.
Now they were passing thickly wooded islands, cool with billowy
foliage--now a great granite fortress rising from a fringe of foliage,
with battlements and barbican, escarpment and buttress, festooned with
creepers and evergreens, like some hoary medieval ruin. Anon, they
were gliding through some glassy strait, with snowy water lilies
gleaming amid the dark green floating leaves that lined the sheltered
bays. Again their course lay under a line of frowning cliffs, crusted
with moss and lichen, and tufted with ferns; and presently another
broad channel opened before them, through which they could catch
distant glimpses of clustered tents, or summer hotels, or a pleasant
country house peeping out from embowering trees. And, ever and anon,
they passed graceful light varnished skiffs, laden with fishing
parties, or canoes paddled swiftly by skillful hands, with a fair
maiden reclining luxuriously among her cushions; and to each the
little yacht addressed a shrill cheery salutation, responded to by
waving handkerchiefs and hats, as each party desired to convey an
expression of what a pleasant time they were enjoying, combined with
good wishes for the enjoyment of every one else.
As these delightful excursions were apt to be prolonged for some
hours, their hospitable hostess, knowing that people are apt to be
hungry under such circumstances, had "afternoon tea" set out on the
little table in the stern, and the guests thought that nowhere did
coffee and cake seem so delicious, while merry talk and travelers'
tales, and some of Flora's Scotch songs enhanced the enjoyment of the
happy hours. Hugh, who had a good tenor voice, would sometimes join
his sister in the old-fashioned Jacobite airs which had been familiar
to both from childhood, such as "A Wee Bird Came to Our Ha' Door," or
"Bonny Charlie's Now Awa'." May thought she had heard few songs so
sweet as the refrain "_Will ye no come back again?_" One verse in
particular, seemed to catch her and haunt her:
"Sweet the lev'rock's note, and lang,
Lilting wildly down the glen,
Still to me he sings ae song,
_Will ye no come back again?_"
And sometimes their talk would drift to graver subjects, as they
returned homewards through lovely vistas of "purple isles of Eden,"
under a sky flushed with the rich glow of sunset, making the calm
river burn with crimson and gold, while the rich claret lines of
shadow made it seem as if the water were indeed turned into wine, and
the peace of the purple twilight gradually faded into the silvery
moonlight, and the whole lovely scene seemed hushed into a gentle
slumber.
Sometimes, after such an excursion, when a few neighbors had joined
their party, at Sumach Lodge, the young folks would beg for a "camp
fire," and a pile of brushwood, set ready on the rocks, would be
lighted, and the party would sit round it, telling stories and
cracking jokes, and singing songs, till the red glare of the fire at
length gave way to the still pale moonlight, and at last they
reluctantly broke up, scarcely able to tear themselves away from the
fascinations of the hour.
A still longer excursion they made one day, in the swift steamer
"Island Wanderer," which they took at Gananoque, and which carried
them by much the same route for a longer distance, down the turns and
twists of the "Lost Channel" to the little hamlet of Rockport;
then--crossing swiftly to the quiet shady resort of Westminster Park on
Well's Island--carried them around its bold wooded headland to the
villa-studded archipelago that teems with island-paradises, turrets,
pagodas, fairy bridges, till it almost reminds the visitor of a willow
pattern plate, and on to the little town of Alexandria Bay, with its
monster hotels. Here Kate showed them a spot most interesting to
May--the pretty mansion of "Bonniecastle," for years the summer home of
Dr. Holland, the first editor of the _Century_ magazine, and author of
"Arthur Bonniecastle," after which he named this pleasant home. Kate
told them how he had once landed in his steam-yacht at an island on
which she had been picnicking at the time, and how charmed she and her
friends had been with his genial personality and talk. Then they
steamed swiftly through the bewildering succession of castles and
cottages of every conceivable variety, which make the American channel
here seem like a long water-way or street, lined by suburban villas.
May did not much like the extent to which the islands had been trimmed
and smoothed out of the shaggy individuality of their primitive state;
and Hugh and Flora emphatically agreed with her, in preferring the
comparative wildness of the Canadian channel, where the islands still
retain their wild sylvan charm.
They scanned with interest the great caravanserai of Thousand Island
Park, with its streets and avenues of tents and cottages and crowds of
tourists; and then, just as they were leaving the little cluster of
country houses at Round Island, a gentleman in a light-gray suit,
carrying a valise and overcoat, came briskly on board, speedily
recognized by May as Mr. Winthrop, who, coming up to greet the party,
declared himself bound for Sumach Lodge. It was curious, May thought,
how he seemed to have a faculty for joining them at the most opportune
moments, and she wondered much whether he had any private means of
tracing the movements of the party. On this occasion, Kate, at all
events, took his appearance with a coolness in keeping with the
nonchalance of his manner. In fact, Flora declared privately to May
that they were both "refreshingly cool for a warm day," a remark which
May thought a trifle heartless, considering that this addition to the
party must be a "thorn in the flesh" to her brother. However, he
betrayed no visible annoyance, but talked very pleasantly with Mr.
Winthrop, all the way home, discussing politics, British and American
and Canadian, including the "Behring Sea" difficulty, which last they
had not settled, even when they had arrived at Sumach Lodge, and the
discussion was finally terminated by the ringing of the tea-bell.
After tea, such of the party as were not tired out by the long day's
outing, dispersed in various directions to enjoy the cool air and the
moonlight on the river. Mr. Winthrop and Kate had mysteriously
disappeared, and so had one of the skiffs. Hugh Macnab, who had become
quite expert at managing a canoe, asked his sister and May to let him
paddle them both as far as the favorite nook already referred to, and
both willingly agreed. But Flora, just at starting, was claimed by one
of the boys, who was her special slave, and not liking to disappoint
him, she good-naturedly consented to go in _his_ boat instead. Flora
and her cavalier followed in the wake of some of the other young
people, and her fresh Scotch voice was soon heard warbling her
favorite refrain:--
"And carry the lad that was born to be king
the hills to Skye!"
"That sounds out of place _here_, somehow," said Hugh. "This new world
has nothing to do with our old Jacobite struggles. It ought to be one
of those pretty French Canadian airs, at least." And he hummed "_La
Claire Fontaine_," which had greatly taken his fancy, with its pretty
chorus,--
"_Il y'a longtemps que je t'aime_
_Jamais je ne t'oublierai._"
which certainly seemed much more in harmony with the exquisite summer
evening and the light, gliding motion of the little canoe, as it
bounded forward so noiselessly under the ashen paddle, over the purple
and crimson tide.
Neither seemed disposed to talk. The beauty of the evening, for one
thing, was too absorbing to encourage much conversation. Moreover, May
was still worrying a little over the three-cornered problem of Kate
and Hugh and Mr. Winthrop, and thought that Hugh's meditations were
possibly wandering in a somewhat similar direction. They entered the
"Lonely Bay" very quietly, as was their wont. The spot seemed like a
church, in which loud tones or careless words were a desecration. As
the canoe glided noiselessly into the deep shadow of the high crags,
they both became aware that another boat had come in before them, and
was lying motionless in the inmost recess of the little basin. The
occupants were unconscious of any intrusion on their solitude, and, as
Hugh paused, irresolute whether to proceed or not, a few low spoken
words reached their ears in Mr. Winthrop's very distinct
enunciation--words that both thought were: "Then I need not altogether
despair!"
May colored to the very roots of her hair, feeling by proxy the "pang"
which she believed Hugh must experience, as he silently but swiftly
rowed away, lest they should involuntarily hear any more of so very
confidential a conversation. Whether the other pair heard the sound of
the light dip of the retreating paddle they could not tell; and not a
word was exchanged between them concerning the unexpected _rencontre_,
both feeling the subject too delicate to touch.
But as they were rowing slowly homeward, by a circuitous route, the
other boat overtook them, and they rowed side by side for the
remainder of the way, Mr. Winthrop evidently exerting himself to talk,
while Kate remained unusually silent. The moon--rather more than half
full, flooded the air and river with her silvery light; and on one
side of them lay a glittering expanse, studded with the dark
silhouettes of islands. Mr. Winthrop quoted some of the well-known
lines from the Merchant of Venice, "On such a night," etc., Hugh
helping him out when he halted for a line. And then Kate asked Hugh
whether he could not recite something appropriate to the scene.
"Original, if possible; if not, then quoted. And we won't even ask you
whether it is original, or not," she added. "You know, we can't _hear_
the quotation marks."
"On that condition, I will," said Hugh, and, after a few moments'
thought, he began:--
"Never a ripple on all the river
As it lies like a mirror beneath the moon,
Only the shadows tremble and quiver,
With the balmy breath of a night in June;
All dark and silent, each shadowy island
Like a silhouette lies on the silver ground,
While, just above us, a rocky highland
Towers grim and dusk, with its pine trees crowned.
Never a sound, save the oar's soft splashing,
As the boat drifts idly the shore along,
And the arrowy fireflies, silently flashing,
Gleam, living diamonds, the woods among!
And the night-hawk darts o'er the bay's broad bosom,
And the loon's laugh breaks on the midnight calm,
And the luscious breath of the wild vine's blossom,
Wafts from the rocks, like a tide of balm!
Drifting, why cannot we drift forever
Let all the world and its worries go!--
Let us float and float on the flowing river,
Whither,--we neither care nor know;--
Dreaming a dream, might we ne'er awaken!
There's joy enough in this passive bliss;
The wrestling crowd and its cares forsaken
Was ever Nirvana more blest than this?
Nay! but our hearts are forever lifting
The screen of the present,--however fair,--
Not long, not long, may we go on drifting,--
Not long enjoy surcease from care!
Ours is a nobler task and guerdon
Than aimless, drifting, however blest;
Only the heart that can bear the burden
Can share the joy of the victor's rest!"
"Well, I appreciate the poetry, of course," said Mr. Winthrop, when
Kate had duly thanked the reciter, "but, I am glad _that_ did not come
from _me_! We Americans are always getting the credit of being too
restless for repose,--for enjoying anything in a leisurely manner. But
it seems there are other people who, like Faust, cannot say to the
present moment, 'Stay, thou art fair!'"
"I'm afraid that's a trait of the age," replied Hugh. "But I rather
think it is nobler, on the whole, to be always 'pressing on to the
things that are before.'"
"We look before and after
And pine for what is not!"
quoted Mr. Winthrop--"even in the beauty of this exquisite night."
And after that no words were spoken till the two canoes grated, almost
at the same moment, on the pebbly beach.
The sojourn at Sumach Lodge was now nearly at an end, for our party
had still far to go, and much to see. The next day was to be devoted
to an excursion in the steam-yacht to a bit of very picturesque
scenery some few miles down the main shore of the river--"a miniature
Saguenay," as Mr. Leslie described it, and, at the same time, they
were to get a glimpse of the Canoe Camp which had been just opened,
and which was to have an illumination in the evening that they all
wanted to see.
They started early next morning for Halstead Bay, where the
picturesque little "rift" or _canyon_ began. The _Oneida_ carried them
swiftly down the few miles of river, till within the curve of the bay
which was hemmed in by high wooded hills, where they disembarked from
the yacht, in which they could not proceed much further, and had
recourse to the skiffs which they had brought in tow. As they rowed
farther up, the hills drew nearer to the bay or creek until they
became almost sheer precipices, rising up, weather-worn and
splintered, from the narrowing channel, which was full of reeds and
water plants and fleets of water-lilies, from which they supplied
themselves to their hearts' content. Here and there the stern rugged
crags were festooned with trailing plants and delicate harebells, in
what May declared were natural hanging baskets. Cranes and water-hens
flew up from the tall sedges, and Kate pointed out to Mr. Winthrop a
fine loon diving for his food. "Very likely you will hear him laugh,
by and by,"--said Kate, for he had been expressing some curiosity as to
the loon's laugh in the verses Hugh had recited. "We often hear its
'laugh' at Sumach Lodge," she said, "and very weird it sounds at
night. I don't know whether its elfin 'laugh' or its cry seems the
most uncanny. It has interested Hugh so much, and so has the old
legend of Clote-scarp and the loon."
And as Mr. Winthrop had never heard this legend, Hugh told the Indian
story, how Clote-scarp, or Glooscap--the Micmac Hiawatha, had at
length, wearied with the cruelty and wickedness of man and the savage
warfare of the brute creation, departed from the land until the reign
of peace should be re-established; and that the loon awaits his
return, and laments his absence in the melancholy cry which it utters
from time to time. "Curious," he added, "how that idea of the
Deliverer, temporarily departed, seems to have taken root in all
lands, from Arthur and Barbaroosa to Hiawatha and Clote-scarp. But
what a magnificent cliff that is!" for now they had nearly reached the
head of the little _canyon_, and the higher bluffs seemed to grow
grander and more picturesque as the channel narrowed.
"It is really a very good reduction of the Saguenay," said Mr.
Winthrop, "and the scale of proportion is very well carried out. That,
for instance, would do very well for a miniature Cape Eternity. But it
is as well to see _this first_!"
At the head of the _canyon_ the crags closed up, leaving only a narrow
channel, through which a tiny stream struggled through the great
rugged boulders in a miniature cascade. They all landed and amused
themselves for some time in scrambling about among the rocks, trying
to thread the course of the streamlet, or climbing the neighboring
hill, from which some of the young men, including Hugh and Mr.
Winthrop, reported a magnificent view. The less ambitious of the party
strolled about at the lower level, plucking raspberries which grew in
great abundance among the rocks, while Flora tried to sketch roughly
the charming view from the high ground above the little waterfall. Too
soon, as it seemed, the order was given to re-embark and descend the
_canyon_ to the bay, where the steam-yacht had been left, and where
their lunch was also awaiting them. Mrs. Leslie with Mrs. Sandford and
one or two ladies who had visited the place before, had remained near
the steam-yacht, and when the party in the skiffs returned,--a little
hot and very hungry,--they found a most attractive-looking luncheon,
with fresh fruit, iced milk and various other luxuries most tempting
to tired sight-seers on a warm day, spread on a charming point, with
glimpses of still waters and beds of snowy water lilies on both sides
of its wooded slope.
After thoroughly enjoying their luncheon, they all had a long rest
under the softly waving trees, through which a light breeze was
whispering, cooling the noontide heat of the August day. Then they
re-embarked on the steam-yacht and directed their course across the
river towards the Canoe Camp, which was pitched on a picturesque
island most admirably adapted for its purposes. They soon encountered
token of its presence, in the light canoes which darted gracefully
hither and thither, some of them winged by the daintiest little snowy
sails, looking like white butterflies as they danced over the
sparkling blue waves rippled by the freshening afternoon breeze. The
steam launch soon glided up to the landing pier, in a sheltered bay
overlooked by charming wooded slopes, on which gleamed the white tents
which dotted the island. It abounded in pretty sheltered coves, each
of which formed the harbor for a little fleet of canoes belonging to
some particular club--all nearly uniform in pattern. Some of the clubs
used "Rob Roy" canoes, which were marvels of beauty, with their finely
polished wood, and paddles, and luxurious silver mountings. Each club
had its tents near its harbor, and a large marquee did duty as a
common dining-hall. The lady members of the association had their own
particular little settlement, which was called the "Squaw's Point."
Camp fires were lighted here and there, carrying out the primitive
Indian character of the whole. The party had just time for a hasty
stroll about the island before the beginning of the races, which they
had the best opportunity of witnessing from their steam-yacht,
carrying them from point to point, in order to extend their view at
will.
Some of the races were so-called "hurdle races," in which the racer
went through a variety of performances, swimming a few hundred yards,
then getting into his canoe, paddling it for a certain distance, and
in returning, upsetting it, righting it again and paddling to shore.
These last man[oe]uvres caused great fun and excitement. The party in the
steam launch had a number of acquaintances at the camp, and Kate was
soon discovered by various youths in parti-colored flannels, who
gathered around her for a chat in the intervals of the races; Hugh
being eager to hear all he could concerning the art of paddling, which
he had been practising on every available opportunity during his stay
among the islands. The afternoon flew swiftly by, and, when tea-time
came, the yacht party had invitations to tea in several tents, and
distributed themselves accordingly. After tea, a visiting band
discoursed music as the evening shades grew on; and then came the
great sight of the evening.
Suddenly the clusters of tents gleamed out like brilliant
constellations amid the dark foliage, while the canoes, which had been
formed into a long snake-like coil were decked from stem to stern with
flambeaux and Chinese lanterns, some of these being curiously arranged
so as to imitate the forms of animals. The swan was the favorite
design, and the most easily managed, but there were elephants, camels
and other still more curious imitations. At short intervals, rockets
and Roman candles went up with a rush and roar, and some Greek fire on
the beach threw a rich roseate light over the wonderful scene. The
steam-yacht darted about hither and thither, the better to command the
whole view. Hugh and Flora were enchanted, and declared that they
could almost imagine themselves in a gondola in Venice, so brilliant
was the effect of the procession of illuminated boats, and the
_cordon_ of lights which studded the sombre background of the island.
As the fiery serpent began to coil and uncoil itself on the dark
river, while the rockets sparkled against the sky, and the
moon--partially obscured--threw fitful gleams between slow-moving clouds
upon the distant islands, it seemed more like a transformation scene
on the stage than one of actual reality, the contrast of the blaze of
artificial light with the calm serenity of the moonbeams being
singularly striking.
But our friends had had a long day of it, and were beginning to feel
its fatiguing effects, so that no one felt inclined to object when Mr.
Leslie gave the order for departing, and, in a few minutes, they found
themselves far away from the brilliant scene, steaming quietly through
lonely channels where the moonlit waves broke softly on pebbly shores,
under dark overhanging boughs of hemlock and pine.
May awoke next morning with the regretful thought that it was her last
day at Sumach Lodge. It was mainly devoted to farewell visits to all
the favorite haunts which would remain graven on her mind--at least for
years to come. In the afternoon Mr. Winthrop announced that he must go
to Gananoque in order to telegraph to New York, for he had been
recently talking--to May's inward consternation--of joining their party
on the trip to the Saguenay. She felt sure it would spoil Hugh's
pleasure, at any rate. But Kate showed no desire to veto the plan; on
the contrary, May had misgivings that her cousin had no objection to
it. Their good-natured host at once ordered the steam-yacht for Mr.
Winthrop, and a few of the guests willingly accompanied them,
including Flora, who lost no opportunity of gliding about in that
delightful little vessel,--Kate and May preferring not to lose an hour
of their now short stay on the island. One of her youthful admirers,
however, the youth who owned the "butterfly sailboat," coaxed Kate to
take a last short sail with him in the invitingly freshening breeze.
No one noticed, however, that the sky had gradually clouded over and
become grey instead of blue, while, despite the breeze, the air had
grown very sultry. Hugh noticed it at last from the quiet nook where
he sat reading, and came slowly back towards the house, where he found
May reclining in a hammock on the veranda, professedly reading, but in
reality half asleep, while Mrs. Sandford, close by, was complacently
nodding over her knitting.
"Where are all the rest of you?" he inquired; "the place seems
deserted!"
May explained that Flora had gone with the party in the steam-yacht,
while most of the boys had gone off with their boats to the other end
of the island for a swim, and that Kate had gone out with Dick Morris
in his "butterfly sailboat."
"I hope they haven't gone far," he said. "We are going to have a
tremendous storm. I'll go and signal them back."
May sprang out of her hammock and looked about her, while Mrs.
Sandford got into a flurry of alarm at once. Certainly the sky had a
rather alarming appearance. A great black cloud had swept down from
the southwest, flanked by another that seemed to extend over the whole
river in two great curves or scollops of dark slate color, edged with
a strange light bluish gray that had a lurid and terrible effect. The
river, usually so softly blue, had darkened in the distance to an inky
blackness, while somewhat nearer it assumed an angry grey. As yet the
stretch of water in front of the island seemed comparatively calm,
but, two or three miles away, sails were flying at full speed before a
strong gale. The squall was evidently coming up fast, and the
"butterfly sailboat" was some distance out and would certainly feel it
very soon. The steam-yacht was swiftly approaching the pier from a
different direction.
Hugh said not a word, but began to unmoor the lightest of the only two
skiffs that lay at the landing, to which they had hurried, while May
watched the sailboat through an opera-glass.
"The squall has caught it now!" she said, as Hugh was busy with the
boat. "Oh, I'm afraid it is upsetting!"
"_What!_" exclaimed Hugh, anxiously watching the little craft as the
sail dipped lower, and lower, and lower, and finally lay flat on the
waves. Hugh in the meantime had hastily pulled off his boots and
jumped into the skiff, and now threw his watch into May's hands,
seized the oars and pushed out in hot haste. Meantime the steam-yacht
had arrived at the pier, a little way off, and Mr. Winthrop, coming
up, took in the situation at a glance. He almost snatched the
opera-glass from May, looked through it, and then rushed out on the
landing-stage, from which Hugh's boat was swiftly receding.
"Stop!" he shouted, "and let _me_ go, too!" The voice scarcely seemed
like Mr. Winthrop's usually suave and even tones. It had a ring not
only of anxiety, but of passion and command. But it had no effect on
Hugh. He only shook his head as he called out, "No time to delay!" and
rowed on, at a pace that frightened May, into the teeth of the waves,
which were now dashing themselves into snowy wreaths of foam, while
the trees were lashing their branches about, as if in agony. Meantime
she had caught up the opera-glass which Mr. Winthrop had thrown down,
and could see that the boat had partially righted itself, and that
Kate and her young cavalier were clinging to its side, helplessly
drifting before the wind. Mrs. Sandford, who had now reached the
landing, stood crying and wringing her hands in a way that intensified
May's own terror.
Meantime Mr. Winthrop had hurriedly looked round for the only skiff
left, which was a heavy and awkward one, but seldom used. He did not
hesitate, however, but jumped in and made what speed he could towards
the craft in distress, towards which Hugh by this time was half-way
out. May breathlessly watched him as he rapidly covered the remaining
distance. Then she could see him help Kate from her perilous hold into
the skiff, and the young man into the sailboat, which the efforts of
the two men had soon righted, after which Hugh rapidly rowed back,
leaving to poor Mr. Winthrop, who was following, the comparatively
uninteresting task of picking up the floating oars and other traps
which had been cast adrift in the upset, and of towing the unlucky
mariner and his boat back to the island.
As all the boys had by this time returned, half a dozen hands were
outstretched to draw the skiff ashore and help out the pale but
laughing Kate, with her dripping garments clinging about her feet.
Mrs. Leslie took possession of her at once, and she and Mrs. Sandford
hurried her up to the house to be put to bed and dosed with hot brandy
and every other restorative that her ingenuity could devise, while
Hugh also came in for a large share of her anxiety, as well as of her
pharmacopeia.
Meantime poor Dick Morris had managed, with Mr. Winthrop's assistance,
to get his water-logged boat back to shore, somewhat crestfallen as
well as wet, under the heavy downpour of rain which followed the
squall. Dick came in for his share of the coddling, but Mr. Winthrop
became invisible for an hour or two, and it was only after all were
gathered round the tea-table that he reappeared, looking paler and
graver than they had ever yet seen him. Kate was, of course, still
under orders to remain in bed for the rest of the evening, but Hugh
disclaimed any need for such precautions, and had evidently by no
means lost _his_ appetite, at least. He greeted Mr. Winthrop
pleasantly, as usual, saying apologetically: "I was sorry I couldn't
wait for you, Winthrop, but I saw there was no time to be lost."
"Oh, it was of no consequence; you were quite right," he replied
coolly, but very curtly, and May inwardly wondered why it was that
people always said things were "of no consequence," just when they
evidently cared most.
The incident seemed to have cast a damper--figuratively as well as
literally--over the last evening among the islands. The squall had gone
down as rapidly as it had come up, and the rain cleared off by
degrees; but the sunset cast only a few golden gleams through the
parting clouds, and the moonlight was fitful and disappointing; and it
seemed to May that the sadness of the parting colored the external
scene as well as her own feelings.
It had been arranged that the steam launch should take them all across
to Clayton, to catch the river steamboat there about seven A. M., thus
necessitating a very early start. It was an exquisite August morning,
very like the first one after their arrival, but there was little time
to enjoy its charming pictures. An early breakfast was hurried over by
the time the little yacht blew her whistle for departure, and, before
any one could realize that the moment for departure had come, the
travellers had passed through an avalanche of good-byes, and were
steaming swiftly away from the enchanted island, as May then thought
it, and will always continue to dream of it hereafter.
Kate treated Mr. Winthrop very coolly during the sail across, as May
observed, and this inconsistent young woman began forthwith to feel
sorry for him, especially when he announced, with apparent
indifference, that he should have to say good-bye to them all at
Clayton, as he feared, from the news he had received the previous day,
that he should not be able to rejoin them at Quebec, as he had hoped
to do. May thought that Kate looked somewhat startled, but she said
little, and they parted with cool civility. And as they left him
behind, with a sense of something unsatisfactory about it, Mr.
Winthrop seemed to have left more of a blank in the little party than
might have been expected from his short stay among them. Hugh missed
his clear-cut criticism and incisive talk. May felt as if she ought to
be glad that this rival of Hugh's--as she regarded him--was out of the
way, and yet she was conscious of a feeling of regret that surprised
herself. For, after all, undoubtedly Mr. Winthrop had been very
pleasant and courteous, and it certainly was not _his_ fault that he
had not had the honor of rescuing Kate. And now they were fairly
embarked on the steamer, which turned out to be their old friend, the
_Corsican_, and were soon rapidly losing sight of the charming
"Admiralty Group,"--the fairyland amid which she had, for the past ten
days, enjoyed so delightful a resting-place.