I watched him and little Pete drive away down the highroad; watched
them out of sight. Then I sat down on the bench outside the
waiting-room to think, "What next?"
I had no intention of going to Spencerville. My trunk would be safe
there with the address of a neighbor of my aunt. What I most wanted
was to be alone and time to think, time to regain strength for the
struggle before me.
I don't know that for ten minutes I thought at all. I suppose I must
have, for I remembered that at this hour Jamie and Mrs. Macleod were to
sail; that the Doctor was on his way to San Francisco. That Cale could
do nothing by telegraphing them. And what would he telegraph?
The ticket-agent and baggage-master locked the office door and came
over to me.
"I 'm going up the road a piece; the train is twenty minutes late. You
won't mind sitting here alone?"
"Oh, no. It is a lovely evening."
"No frost to-night." He went off on the highroad in the opposite
direction from Richelieu-en-Bas.
The evening promised to be fine; the sun set clear in the sky.
Somewhere in the distance, I heard a night hawk's harsh cry.
The dusk fell; still I sat there, not thinking much of anything. I had
my hand-bag with me and my warm coat. I opened my bag and took out an
apple; I had eaten nothing since breakfast and felt faint. The apple
was an Astrachan. I found myself calculating what it cost--this one
apple. I must begin to count the cost again of every morsel, although
I had all my wages with me. But ten weeks of sickness--and where would
they be!
I put my teeth into the apple-- A thought: the apple-boat--it was to
leave soon--the week was up!
I rose from the bench, not stopping to take a second bite; took my
hand-bag; threw my coat over my shoulder, and started down the road to
Richelieu-en-Bas.
It was rapidly growing dark. One mile, two miles, three miles--the
night was there to cover me. I was thankful. Five miles, six miles--I
was entering the long street of the village. The lindens and elms made
the road black. I strained my eyes to see the lights. That from the
cabaret was the first--then a green one above the water, several feet
it looked to be. It must be the apple-boat!
It was just the time in the evening when the men flock to the cabaret.
As I drew near it, I heard the sound of the graphophone. I listened,
not stopping in my walk.
"_O Canada, pays de mon amour!_"