Deepening Shadows
As Nellie stood at the study window the Sunday afternoon her father left
for Craig's Corner a sense of depression and loneliness stole over her.
How much longer could her father continue those hard drives, she wondered.
He was getting old. His hair was so white and his steps feeble. What was
to become of him when he could perform his beloved work no longer? She
knew very well how they were pressed for money, and how much had gone to
help Philip in his fight in British Columbia. How many things had they
gone without! Even mere common necessities had been given up. Naturally
her mind turned to the auction, and the money her father had paid down for
the farm. Four thousand dollars! Where had it come from, and why would her
father never tell her, or speak about it in her presence? How often had
she lain awake at night thinking about it all! Then to hear people more
than hinting about Billy Fletcher's gold, and what had become of it, was
at times more than she could bear. Never for a moment did she doubt her
father, but often she longed to ask him for an explanation of the mystery.
Was the money his own, or was he handling it for someone else? If so, why
should he not tell her--his only daughter--who was so dear to him?
She was aroused by the arrival of several children from the houses nearest
the Rectory. Every Sunday afternoon Nellie found her real enjoyment with
her little class. She had known them all since their birth, and they loved
her. How longingly they looked forward to that brief Sunday gathering.
There were no harsh, strict rules here, no perfunctory opening and
closing, and no lifeless lessons droned forth in a half-rebellious spirit.
It was all joy and love. How their voices did ring as Nellie played on the
little harmonium some sweet hymn attuned to childish hearts and minds.
Then, after the lessons were over, there came the treat of the day--a
story read from one of those marvellous books kept on a shelf in a corner
all by themselves. When at last the story had been finished and the class
dispersed, Nellie locked the doors, and made her way to Vivien Nelson's.
What a hearty welcome she received from them all! To Mr. and Mrs. Nelson,
hard-working, God-fearing people, she was as their own daughter. She and
Vivien, their only child, had been playmates together at school, and their
friendship had never languished. There Nellie felt at home. She knew that
no matter what disagreeable things were being said about her father
throughout the parish, no word of reproach or blame was ever mentioned in
the Nelson home. Others might think what they liked about Parson John, but
the Nelsons had known him too long in times of sorrow and joy to believe
any evil of their old Rector.
Here Nellie stayed until the following afternoon, and then made her way
home to have the house comfortable before her father came back. As the
evening drew near she anxiously watched for his return. She saw the dull
grey sky and knew that a storm threatened. As the darkness deepened and
the wind raved about the house, and the snow beat against the north
windows, her anxiety increased. The supper table stood ready in its snowy
whiteness; the kettle sang on the stove and the fire in the sitting-room
grate threw out its cheerful glow. It was a scene of peace and genial
comfort contrasted with the raging of the elements outside. But Nellie
thought nothing of this, for her heart was too much disturbed. Had
anything happened to her father and Dan? It was some relief to know that
the lad was along, for two were better than one should an accident occur.
Her eyes roamed often to the little clock ticking away on the
mantel-piece. Six-seven-eight-nine. The hours dragged slowly by. She tried
to read, but the words were meaningless. She picked up her needlework, but
soon laid it down again, with no heart to continue. Once more she glanced
at the clock. Ten minutes after nine. She thought it longer than that
since it had struck the hour. She arose to attend the kitchen fire, when a
loud knock upon the front door startled her. She turned back, and stood
for an instant in the centre of the room. Her heart beat fast, and her
face paled. Tramps were frequently seen in Glendow, working their way from
one place to another. At times they were impudent and tried to force an
entrance into houses. It was a likely night for them to seek shelter, and
suppose one were standing out there now! What could she, a lone woman, do?
Another rap, harder than the first, fell upon her ears. Something must be
done, and at once. Crossing the room and pausing near the door she
demanded who was there.
"Sam Dobbins," came the reply, and Nellie breathed more freely as she
unlocked the door, opened it and admitted the visitor.
"'Tis a blasted night," the man remarked as he tried to shake himself free
from his mantle of snow and stamped upon the floor with his great heavy
boots. "If I'd known 'twas so bad I'd never stirred one step."
"Is anything wrong?" questioned Nellie, fearful lest Sam was the bearer of
ill news. "Have you seen my father?"
"Your father! Isn't he home?" and the man looked his surprise.
"No, he hasn't come yet, and I'm so uneasy."
"Well, I declare, and to think that I have come all the way to see him,
and he's not here. When do you expect him?"
"I expected him home before dark, but now I don't know what to think. Is
there anything I can do for you, Mr. Dobbins? Won't you take a seat?"
"No, there's nothin' you kin do, miss. I've got to see the parson, and
only him. I hate the job, but I've got to do it. I'm the only constable in
the place, and I've got to do my duty."
At these words a startled look came into Nellie's face. She took a step
forward and looked keenly into the man's eyes.
"What do you mean?" she demanded. "I know you're a constable, but what do
you want of my father? Oh, please tell me, quick!"
"Now don't get excited, Miss," Mr. Dobbins kindly replied, looking with
admiration upon the excited young figure before him. "Remember, I've
nothin' against your father. Haven't I shod every horse he had since he
came to this place, long before you were born. He's been a good customer
of mine, and I ain't got nothin' agin him. I'm only doin' my duty as a
constable."
"But I don't understand, Mr. Dobbins. You come here to arrest my father
and----"
"Only to serve the summons, Miss," interrupted the blacksmith. "I ain't
goin' to arrest him. He'll be asked to appear at the trial, that's all."
"Trial! what trial?"
"Oh, it's in connection with a cow."
"A cow!"
"Yes. It seems that Si Farrington's hired man, Pete Davis, was takin' away
the Stickles' only cow, when your father appeared on the scene, cut the
rope, set the cow free, and sent Joe off in a hurry. Farrington's in a
rage, and says he'll make the parson smart fer what he did. He's goin' to
take legal action, and so I've been sent to serve the summons. That's all
I know about it, Miss. I'm real sorry, but what else could I do?"
Nellie made no reply when the man ceased. Words would not come. Her bosom
heaved, and she placed her hand to her forehead in an abstracted manner.
Her eyes were fixed full upon the constable's face, though she did not see
him. Her thoughts were away from that room, out through the storm and
darkness to an old grey-headed man battling somewhere with the tempest,
for the sake of others. What had happened? What would he think when he
reached home to find out what Farrington was doing?
The constable shifted uneasily from one foot to the other in an
embarrassed manner before those pathetic eyes. He clutched his cap more
firmly in his hands, and shuffled towards the door.
"Guess I'll go now, Miss," he stammered. "I'll step up the road to make a
call and come back again. Maybe your father will be home then."
Nellie hardly heard the door open and close as the constable passed out
into the night. She stood for awhile as if dazed, then sinking into a
nearby chair she buried her face in her hands. The wind howled and roared
outside, and the snow dashed and swirled against the window. A big grey
cat rose from its position before the fire, came and rubbed its sleek fur
against her dress, and gently purred for some attention. But Nellie did
not heed it. How dark all seemed to her! One thing after another! Why were
these clouds gathering so thick over her dear father's head? It did not
seem possible that he could be kept in ignorance much longer. It was sure
to be revealed through this last trouble.
A sound fell upon her ears which made her look quickly up. Was it the
wind? She listened with fast-beating heart. Again it came--a pathetic
whinny out in the yard. She sprang to her feet, and rushed to the back
door. She knew that call, for how often had she heard it! Midnight was
there, standing almost at the threshold. Her dim form could be seen as
Nellie peered out. She hurried forth, heedless of the pelting storm,
expecting to hear her father's voice. But no cheery greeting met her,
neither could she find the sleigh. Feeling around with her hands she felt
the trailing shafts, and the awful truth flashed upon her. An accident had
happened! And what of her father? Forgetting the horse she turned back
into the house, seized a cloak, threw it over her shoulders, and hurried
out into the storm. How the wind did roar about her as she waded and half
stumbled through the drifts, which were now filling the road. Anxiety lent
speed to her feet. She dashed on her way, and at length almost breathless
reached the Larkins' house. Upon the door she beat with her hands, and
after what seemed a long time Mr. Larkins made his appearance.
"Nellie! Nellie!" he exclaimed in affright, as she staggered into the
room. "What in the world is the matter? Tell me, quick!"
"F-father's--had--an--a-a-ccident. Midnight came home without the
sleigh--dragging the shafts--oh, what can we do?"
"Do?" was the reply. "We shall do what we can! I shall harness the horses
at once, get several of the neighbors, and go in search of him. Don't
worry too much, Nellie. To be pitched out of the sleigh in the soft snow
is not so bad. No doubt we shall meet him and Dan plodding wearily along."
This the worthy man said to calm Nellie's fears, though in his own heart
there was real anxiety, and he was not long in placing the horses fast to
the big sled. But before he left he stopped to turn Midnight into the barn
floor, threw on her blanket, and left her quietly munching a liberal
supply of hay.
Mrs. Larkins was not long in making her appearance, and did what she could
to bring comfort to Nellie's anxious heart. She also went with her back to
the Rectory to await her husband's return. How the time did drag by! At
every wild gust of wind Nellie started and trembled. At length, however,
the faint sound of bells was heard, and scarcely had the panting,
snow-flecked horses stopped at the door ere Nellie, bare-headed, and with
a shawl over her shoulders, appeared.
"Father, father!" she cried, as she rushed forward, and peered into the
familiar face. "Are you safe?"
"Yes, dearie. I am home again," came the feeble response.
"Oh, thank God!" she replied, throwing her arms around his neck, and
kissing him again and again. "What a night this has been--a horrible
nightmare!"
"Come, lassie," demanded the doctor. "Away with you into the house. What
are you doing out here in such a storm? We'll look after your dad."