WHEN Launa Archer was ten years old her father realised that she must be
taught; so he went forth to seek a governess.
Mr. Archer had grown into a silent man, as is often very naturally the
case with men who spend much of their lives in the woods. But Launa
found him an excellent companion, full of knowledge about all the beasts
of the field and fowls of the air, and able to tell wonderful stories of
“Ring, the king’s son,” Norwegian fairy stories, and Indian legends.
Archer found the governess problem hard to solve. For once in his life
he distrusted his own inclinations, and asked advice of Mrs. Butler, the
wife of one of his neighbours. She had no children, but she longed to be
consulted about Launa, on the principle that childless women know most
about children. Mrs. Butler disapproved of Launa, for she was shy, had
retired under the table during one of Mrs. Butler’s visitations, and
refused to come forth until the lady had left, giving as an excuse that
Mrs. Butler shook hands too much and too often.
Mrs. Butler grew voluble, and George Archer somewhat distressed. She
strongly advised school; indeed, it was her war-cry. School would endow
Launa with lady-like habits. Her listener frowned. School would give her
pleasant companionship, and a knowledge of all those things which it was
necessary for young ladies to acquire.
“Is not curiosity, the hereditary tendency of Mother Eve strongly
inherent in all women?” asked Mr. Archer. “Launa will learn for
herself.”
“Yes, perhaps,” vaguely murmured Mrs. Butler. “Still, if I were you I
would send her to school.”
George Archer immediately became conscious of many things he did not
want his Launa to become or to learn. She would either be miserable at
school or dislike “Solitude” on her return thither; either result would
be disagreeable. He wanted Launa to remain natural; consequently he did
not advertise for a governess. He had an idea he might meet a suitable
teacher. Mrs. Butler told him that in all probability he would marry
such a paragon as he desired, and he smiled without contradicting her.
He visited his friends at Baltimore, New York, and Halifax, which was
near where he lived, and in New York he found what he sought. Her name
was Black; she was a German-American. Her age was thirty, though her
face suggested forty and her figure twenty. When she played the piano
Archer almost worshipped her talent. He had found the long-looked-for
solace—in the music he saw Naomi; they were together again. And
whenever Miss Black played he seemed to lose himself in a heavenly
dream. If she could teach the wild little lady at “Solitude” to play!
Miss Black could row and paddle; she had read, and did read; she could
walk far, and play tennis. She was full of intelligence, and her German
was good.
It seemed to the perplexed parent that the day of the millennium was
about to dawn when he went, home with this trophy. If the dogs and Launa
liked her then he could dare to be content.
Launa had never known anyone she did not like except Mrs. Butler, who
reciprocated the feeling. The idea of a governess had no dreaded
associations for her; a companion was her greatest desire. Eliza had
grown too fat to climb fences and to go out in the canoe—a form of
pleasure she dreaded and detested, for Eliza could not swim, nor would
she learn.
Miss Black—Launa christened her “Whitey”—was a success. When Mrs.
Butler heard of her she said the world would talk, but when she saw
Whitey’s livid face and weather-beaten countenance, she wanted to know
what her history was, and talked about Mr. Archer’s lonely and
defenceless situation as though he were a castle facing north-east.
The dogs loved Miss Black; her sitting-room was always a haven of refuge
when they were wet and tired, also when Launa had steeplechases and
Fatsey, an old dog, would not and could not jump over a broomstick three
feet from the ground, then, he too, sought sanctuary with Whitey.
Whitey taught Launa music, and the child worked earnestly, undismayed by
the drudgery, with the hope of some day being able to play like her
teacher, and her reward always came in the form of freedom for a while.
With Whitey, she read many books, stories, history, and poetry. And as
Miss Black had travelled far and wide she made all she taught
interesting.
This odd couple were very happy together. In the winter they snowshoed,
going for long tramps through the woods. They were frequently out in
stormy weather, for Miss Black loved the wind as much as Launa did, and
the wild turmoil of snow and tempest attracted them both. They explored
the whole surrounding country together. Miss Black and Launa were also
very fond of wandering to the far away lakes—the big black lakes with
long shadows and deep reflections of trees and rocks—lakes whose
solitude and silence filled one with a sort of apprehension, that
whispered of horrors, past or to come—the ghosts of dead braves might
wander there as a foretaste of the happy hunting ground. The hills were
high and steep, covered with brushwood which was very thick, and at
intervals there were rocks and holes that made climbing perilous, but
Launa and Miss Black did not mind difficulties. On one occasion Mr.
Archer took them to camp out for a week and to fish. How they loved it!
The queer smell of the wood smoke, the joy of cooking in the ashes, and
the talk round the fire in the twilight before bedtime, when the stars
came out and the moon hung half-way up in the sky, while the firelight
threw shadows all around, making the white birch trees look ghostly in
the dim light, while in the distance the little stream rushed on to the
sea.