REST AND HAPPINESS.
Rat, tat, tat! Thump, thump! Bang!
So noisy and persistent an assault on my door roused me at length from a
delicious slumber. I sat up, rubbing my blinking eyes.
"Who's there?" I called in a drowsy tone.
"It's nine o'clock, sir," responded the voice of Baptiste. "I thought
you would wish to know it," he added, and with that he went shuffling
down the corridor.
Nine o'clock! And I had slept several hours over my usual time of
rising! This was the result of sitting up so late the night before. I
was wide awake instantly. I sprang out of bed, broke the thin crust of
ice on my basin, and plunged hands and face into the bitter cold water.
A brisk rubbing with a towel put me all aglow, and I felt what a good
thing it was to be alive. The past, with its perils and hardships, was
behind me like a dim dream, and the future was rose-colored in spite of
the grim spectre of war that it held over us in those days.
This was to be an eventful morning, in a way, for I had a happy piece of
news to impart to Flora; I thought of it constantly as I dressed--an
operation to which of late I devoted much care and attention. From
regions downstairs--I was in the factor's house--came the rattle of
dishes and a murmur of voices. Out of doors the frosty air was filled
with the hum of busy human life.
But I forget that I owe the reader an explanation. The day of which I
write was the 9th of January, 1847, and just one week after we entered
Fort Garry and exchanged the harsh monotony of travel for the comforts
of this nourishing post in the western wilderness.
I need dwell but briefly on the interval. The journey from Fort Charter
had been severe and trying, protracted by furious storms that held us in
camp for days at a time. But we were not attacked on the way--indeed, we
saw no signs of Indians--and every one of our little band had come
safely down from the North, through the heart of the Great Lone Land. It
had been a disappointment to spend Christmas in the wilderness, but our
trials were forgotten when we reached the fort.
But of these matters enough for the present. I must return to where I
left off, and continue the narrative. When I had finished dressing that
morning I went downstairs to the factor's living room, meeting no one on
the way except Christopher Burley, who was too absorbed in thought to
return my greeting.
I opened the door softly, and beheld an attractive picture. The sunlight
shone on rugs and easy-chairs, on walls hung with tastefully chosen
prints, on a table spread for two, with snowy linen and white china. To
my relief, the room had but one occupant, and that was Flora. She was
standing by the window, and as I entered she turned round quickly. She
looked radiantly beautiful in a frock of some pink material with her
rich hair coiled in a new and becoming fashion.
"Denzil, how late you are!" she cried, with a roguish pout. "They have
all finished breakfast long ago. But I waited for you, sir, and am
nearly famished. You do not deserve--"
She got no further, for by this time I was at her side, and had stopped
her pretty lips with a kiss--nay, a shower of them.
"Darling, I have news for you," I said, a moment later.
"Well, what is it?" she asked, blushing as she spoke.
"I had a long talk with Mr. Macdonald last night," I replied. "A better
fellow never lived. I told him all, and--and he is anxious to have a
wedding at Fort Garry."
"Is he?"
"Yes, that's what he said. It will sort of cheer up things, you know,
and--"
"But he has one wife already."
"Don't be stupid," said I. "Listen: he is going to send a man off to-day
for the priest, who is visiting a little settlement fifty miles to the
south. In a week, if you are willing, we can be married."
"In a week!" she cried, with mock consternation.
"I am serious," I replied. "Do not play with me. Think how long I have
waited. Say that you will be my wife in a week's time."
"You foolish boy!" She nestled closer to me, adding, in a different and
tremulous voice: "I am yours, dearest. I will marry you whenever you
wish."
Our lips met, and then I held her at arm's length, looking into her big,
purple eyes, soft and shining with the light of love.
"I am the happiest man in the world," I said hoarsely.
"You deserve it," Flora answered.
"And I am glad to feel that we are carrying out the wishes of Griffith
Hawke. Poor fellow! he was a true friend; and so was Captain Rudstone. I
often think of his sad fate."
"I never liked Captain Rudstone," said Flora. "I feared and mistrusted
him. And I have seen him looking at you so queerly sometimes, Denzil."
"Have you?" I replied. "I have noticed the same thing myself. But I
can't believe--"
"Hush! we won't talk of the past," Flora interrupted. "But the future
worries me, dearest. I am afraid of war breaking out--"
"The cloud will likely blow over," said I; "but if trouble does come the
Northwest Company will quickly get the worst of it. And I forgot to tell
you, darling, that Mr. Macdonald has promised me a good post here at
Fort Garry."
"How lovely," exclaimed Flora. "I don't want to return to the North,
with its bitter memories."
Just then footsteps were heard approaching, and we drew apart in some
confusion. The next instant the door opened and the factor himself
appeared, nourishing a paper in one hand.