Wednesday evening Eric went to the orchard again; and again he was
disappointed. He went home, determined to solve the mystery by open
inquiry. Fortune favoured him, for he found Mrs. Williamson alone,
sitting by the west window of her kitchen and knitting at a long gray
sock. She hummed softly to herself as she knitted, and Timothy slept
blackly at her feet. She looked at Eric with quiet affection in her
large, candid eyes. She had liked Mr. West. But Eric had found his way
into the inner chamber of her heart, by reason that his eyes were so
like those of the little son she had buried in the Lindsay churchyard
many years before.
“Mrs. Williamson,” said Eric, with an affectation of carelessness, “I
chanced on an old deserted orchard back behind the woods over there last
week, a charming bit of wilderness. Do you know whose it is?”
“I suppose it must be the old Connors orchard,” answered Mrs. Williamson
after a moment’s reflection. “I had forgotten all about it. It must be
all of thirty years since Mr. and Mrs. Connors moved away. Their house
and barns were burned down and they sold the land to Thomas Gordon and
went to live in town. They’re both dead now. Mr. Connors used to be
very proud of his orchard. There weren’t many orchards in Lindsay then,
though almost everybody has one now.”
“There was a young girl in it, playing on a violin,” said Eric, annoyed
to find that it cost him an effort to speak of her, and that the blood
mounted to his face as he did so. “She ran away in great alarm as
soon as she saw me, although I do not think I did or said anything to
frighten or vex her. I have no idea who she was. Do you know?”
Mrs. Williamson did not make an immediate reply. She laid down her
knitting and gazed out of the window as if pondering seriously some
question in her own mind. Finally she said, with an intonation of keen
interest in her voice,
“I suppose it must have been Kilmeny Gordon, Master.”
“Kilmeny Gordon? Do you mean the niece of Thomas Gordon of whom your
husband spoke?”
“Yes.”
“I can hardly believe that the girl I saw can be a member of Thomas
Gordon’s family.”
“Well, if it wasn’t Kilmeny Gordon I don’t know who it could have been.
There is no other house near that orchard and I’ve heard she plays the
violin. If it was Kilmeny you’ve seen what very few people in Lindsay
have ever seen, Master. And those few have never seen her close by. I
have never laid eyes on her myself. It’s no wonder she ran away, poor
girl. She isn’t used to seeing strangers.”
“I’m rather glad if that was the sole reason of her flight,” said
Eric. “I admit I didn’t like to see any girl so frightened of me as she
appeared to be. She was as white as paper, and so terrified that she
never uttered a word, but fled like a deer to cover.”
“Well, she couldn’t have spoken a word in any case,” said Mrs.
Williamson quietly. “Kilmeny Gordon is dumb.”
Eric sat in dismayed silence for a moment. That beautiful creature
afflicted in such a fashion--why, it was horrible! Mingled with his
dismay was a strange pang of personal regret and disappointment.
“It couldn’t have been Kilmeny Gordon, then,” he protested at last,
remembering. “The girl I saw played on the violin exquisitely. I never
heard anything like it. It is impossible that a deaf mute could play
like that.”
“Oh, she isn’t deaf, Master,” responded Mrs. Williamson, looking at Eric
keenly through her spectacles. She picked up her knitting and fell to
work again. “That is the strange part of it, if anything about her
can be stranger than another. She can hear as well as anybody and
understands everything that is said to her. But she can’t speak a word
and never could, at least, so they say. The truth is, nobody knows much
about her. Janet and Thomas never speak of her, and Neil won’t either.
He has been well questioned, too, you can depend on that; but he won’t
ever say a word about Kilmeny and he gets mad if folks persist.”
“Why isn’t she to be spoken of?” queried Eric impatiently. “What is the
mystery about her?”
“It’s a sad story, Master. I suppose the Gordons look on her existence
as a sort of disgrace. For my own part, I think it’s terrible, the way
she’s been brought up. But the Gordons are very strange people, Mr.
Marshall. I kind of reproved father for saying so, you remember, but it
is true. They have very strange ways. And you’ve really seen Kilmeny?
What does she look like? I’ve heard that she was handsome. Is it true?”
“I thought her very beautiful,” said Eric rather curtly. “But HOW has
she been brought up, Mrs. Williamson? And why?”
“Well, I might as well tell you the whole story, Master. Kilmeny is the
niece of Thomas and Janet Gordon. Her mother was Margaret Gordon, their
younger sister. Old James Gordon came out from Scotland. Janet and
Thomas were born in the Old Country and were small children when they
came here. They were never very sociable folks, but still they used to
visit out some then, and people used to go there. They were kind and
honest people, even if they were a little peculiar.
“Mrs. Gordon died a few years after they came out, and four years later
James Gordon went home to Scotland and brought a new wife back with him.
She was a great deal younger than he was and a very pretty woman, as my
mother often told me. She was friendly and gay and liked social life.
The Gordon place was a very different sort of place after she came
there, and even Janet and Thomas got thawed out and softened down a
good bit. They were real fond of their stepmother, I’ve heard. Then, six
years after she was married, the second Mrs. Gordon died too. She died
when Margaret was born. They say James Gordon almost broke his heart
over it.
“Janet brought Margaret up. She and Thomas just worshipped the child and
so did their father. I knew Margaret Gordon well once. We were just
the same age and we set together in school. We were always good friends
until she turned against all the world.
“She was a strange girl in some ways even then, but I always liked her,
though a great many people didn’t. She had some bitter enemies, but she
had some devoted friends too. That was her way. She made folks either
hate or love her. Those who did love her would have gone through fire
and water for her.
“When she grew up she was very pretty--tall and splendid, like a queen,
with great thick braids of black hair and red, red cheeks and lips.
Everybody who saw her looked at her a second time. She was a little
vain of her beauty, I think, Master. And she was proud, oh, she was very
proud. She liked to be first in everything, and she couldn’t bear not to
show to good advantage. She was dreadful determined, too. You couldn’t
budge her an inch, Master, when she once had made up her mind on any
point. But she was warm-hearted and generous. She could sing like an
angel and she was very clever. She could learn anything with just one
look at it and she was terrible fond of reading.
“When I’m talking about her like this it all comes back to me, just what
she was like and how she looked and spoke and acted, and little ways she
had of moving her hands and head. I declare it almost seems as if
she was right here in this room instead of being over there in the
churchyard. I wish you’d light the lamp, Master. I feel kind of
nervous.”
Eric rose and lighted the lamp, rather wondering at Mrs. Williamson’s
unusual exhibition of nerves. She was generally so calm and composed.
“Thank you, Master. That’s better. I won’t be fancying now that Margaret
Gordon’s here listening to what I’m saying. I had the feeling so strong
a moment ago.
“I suppose you think I’m a long while getting to Kilmeny, but I’m coming
to that. I didn’t mean to talk so much about Margaret, but somehow my
thoughts got taken up with her.
“Well, Margaret passed the Board and went to Queen’s Academy and got
a teacher’s license. She passed pretty well up when she came out, but
Janet told me she cried all night after the pass list came out because
there were some ahead of her.
“She went to teach school over at Radnor. It was there she met a man
named Ronald Fraser. Margaret had never had a beau before. She could
have had any young man in Lindsay if she had wanted him, but she
wouldn’t look at one of them. They said it was because she thought
nobody was good enough for her, but that wasn’t the way of it at all,
Master. I knew, because Margaret and I used to talk of those matters,
as girls do. She didn’t believe in going with anybody unless it was
somebody she thought everything of. And there was nobody in Lindsay she
cared that much for.
“This Ronald Fraser was a stranger from Nova Scotia and nobody knew much
about him. He was a widower, although he was only a young man. He had
set up store-keeping in Radnor and was doing well. He was real handsome
and had taking ways women like. It was said that all the Radnor girls
were in love with him, but I don’t think his worst enemy could have said
he flirted with them. He never took any notice of them; but the very
first time he saw Margaret Gordon he fell in love with her and she with
him.
“They came over to church in Lindsay together the next Sunday and
everybody said it would be a match. Margaret looked lovely that day, so
gentle and womanly. She had been used to hold her head pretty high, but
that day she held it drooping a little and her black eyes cast down.
Ronald Fraser was very tall and fair, with blue eyes. They made as
handsome a couple as I ever saw.
“But old James Gordon and Thomas and Janet didn’t much approve of him. I
saw that plain enough one time I was there and he brought Margaret home
from Radnor Friday night. I guess they wouldn’t have liked anybody,
though, who come after Margaret. They thought nobody was good enough for
her.
“But Margaret coaxed them all round in time. She could do pretty near
anything with them, they were so fond and proud of her. Her father held
out the longest, but finally he give in and consented for her to marry
Ronald Fraser.
“They had a big wedding, too--all the neighbours were asked. Margaret
always liked to make a display. I was her bridesmaid, Master. I helped
her dress and nothing would please her; she wanted to look that nice
for Ronald’s sake. She was a handsome bride; dressed in white, with red
roses in her hair and at her breast. She wouldn’t wear white flowers;
she said they looked too much like funeral flowers. She looked like a
picture. I can see her this minute, as plain as plain, just as she was
that night, blushing and turning pale by turns, and looking at Ronald
with her eyes of love. If ever a girl loved a man with all her heart
Margaret Gordon did. It almost made me feel frightened. She gave him the
worship it isn’t right to give anybody but God, Master, and I think that
is always punished.
“They went to live at Radnor and for a little while everything went
well. Margaret had a nice house, and was gay and happy. She dressed
beautiful and entertained a good deal. Then--well, Ronald Fraser’s first
wife turned up looking for him! She wasn’t dead after all.
“Oh, there was terrible scandal, Master. The talk and gossip was
something dreadful. Every one you met had a different story, and it was
hard to get at the truth. Some said Ronald Fraser had known all the time
that his wife wasn’t dead, and had deceived Margaret. But I don’t think
he did. He swore he didn’t. They hadn’t been very happy together, it
seems. Her mother made trouble between them. Then she went to visit her
mother in Montreal, and died in the hospital there, so the word came
to Ronald. Perhaps he believed it a little too readily, but that he DID
believe it I never had a doubt. Her story was that it was another woman
of the same name. When she found out Ronald thought her dead she and her
mother agreed to let him think so. But when she heard he had got married
again she thought she’d better let him know the truth.
“It all sounded like a queer story and I suppose you couldn’t blame
people for not believing it too readily. But I’ve always felt it was
true. Margaret didn’t think so, though. She believed that Ronald Fraser
had deceived her, knowing all the time that he couldn’t make her his
lawful wife. She turned against him and hated him just as much as she
had loved him before.
“Ronald Fraser went away with his real wife, and in less than a year
word came of his death. They said he just died of a broken heart,
nothing more nor less.
“Margaret came home to her father’s house. From the day that she went
over its threshold, she never came out until she was carried out in her
coffin three years ago. Not a soul outside of her own family ever saw
her again. I went to see her, but Janet told me she wouldn’t see me. It
was foolish of Margaret to act so. She hadn’t done anything real wrong;
and everybody was sorry for her and would have helped her all they
could. But I reckon pity cut her as deep as blame could have done, and
deeper, because you see, Master, she was so proud she couldn’t bear it.
“They say her father was hard on her, too; and that was unjust if it was
true. Janet and Thomas felt the disgrace, too. The people that had been
in the habit of going to the Gordon place soon stopped going, for they
could see they were not welcome.
“Old James Gordon died that winter. He never held his head up again
after the scandal. He had been an elder in the church, but he handed in
his resignation right away and nobody could persuade him to withdraw it.
“Kilmeny was born in the spring, but nobody ever saw her, except the
minister who baptized her. She was never taken to church or sent to
school. Of course, I suppose there wouldn’t have been any use in her
going to school when she couldn’t speak, and it’s likely Margaret taught
her all she could be taught herself. But it was dreadful that she was
never taken to church, or let go among the children and young folks.
And it was a real shame that nothing was ever done to find out why she
couldn’t talk, or if she could be cured.
“Margaret Gordon died three years ago, and everybody in Lindsay went to
the funeral. But they didn’t see her. The coffin lid was screwed down.
And they didn’t see Kilmeny either. I would have loved to see HER for
Margaret’s sake, but I didn’t want to see poor Margaret. I had never
seen her since the night she was a bride, for I had left Lindsay on a
visit just after that, and what I came home the scandal had just broken
out. I remembered Margaret in all her pride and beauty, and I couldn’t
have borne to look at her dead face and see the awful changes I knew
must be there.
“It was thought perhaps Janet and Thomas would take Kilmeny out after
her mother was gone, but they never did, so I suppose they must have
agreed with Margaret about the way she had been brought up. I’ve often
felt sorry for the poor girl, and I don’t think her people did right by
her, even if she was mysteriously afflicted. She must have had a very
sad, lonely life.
“That is the story, Master, and I’ve been a long time telling it, as I
dare say you think. But the past just seemed to be living again for
me as I talked. If you don’t want to be pestered with questions about
Kilmeny Gordon, Master, you’d better not let on you’ve seen her.”
Eric was not likely to. He had heard all he wanted to know and more.
“So this girl is at the core of a tragedy,” he reflected, as he went to
his room. “And she is dumb! The pity of it! Kilmeny! The name suits her.
She is as lovely and innocent as the heroine of the old ballad. ‘And
oh, Kilmeny was fair to see.’ But the next line is certainly not so
appropriate, for her eyes were anything but ‘still and steadfast’--after
she had seen me, at all events.”
He tried to put her out of his thoughts, but he could not. The memory of
her beautiful face drew him with a power he could not resist. The next
evening he went again to the orchard.