UPON THE HEIGHTS.
Vane rose early next morning, as he had been accustomed to do, and
taking a towel with him made his way across dewy meadows and between
tall hedgerows to the tarn. Stripping where the rabbit-cropped sward met
the mossy boulders, he swam out joyously, breasting the little ripples
which splashed and sparkled beneath the breeze that had got up with the
sun. Coming back where the water lay in shadow beneath a larch wood,
which as yet had not wholly lost its vivid green, he disturbed the
paddling moor-hens and put up a mallard from a clump of swaying reeds.
Then he dressed and turned homewards.
Scrambling over a limestone wall tufted thick with parsley fern, he
noticed Mabel stooping down over an object which lay among the heather
where a rough cartroad approached a wooden bridge. On joining her, he
saw that it was a finely-built canoe with a hole in one bilge she was
examining. She looked up at him ruefully, as she said, "Very sad, isn't
it? That stupid Little did it with his clumsy cart."
"I think it could be mended," Vane replied.
"Old Beavan--he's the wheelwright--said it couldn't, and dad said I
could hardly expect him to send the canoe back to Kingston. He bought it
for me at an exhibition." Then a thought seemed to strike her. "Perhaps
you had something to do with canoes in Canada?"
"I used to pole one loaded with provisions up a river, and carry the lot
round several falls. You're fond of paddling."
"I love it. I used to row the fishing-punt, but it's too old to be safe,
and now the canoe's smashed I can't go out."
"Well," said Vane, "we'll walk across and see what we can find in
Beavan's shop."
They crossed the heath to a tiny hamlet nestling in a hollow of a
limestone crag. There Vane made friends with the wheelwright, who
regarded him dubiously at first, and obtained a piece of larch board
from him. The grizzled North countryman watched him closely as he set a
plane, which is a delicate operation, and then raised no objection when
Vane made use of his work bench. After that, Vane, who had sawn up the
board, borrowed a few tools and copper nails, and he and Mabel went back
to the canoe. On the way she glanced at him curiously.
"I wasn't sure old Beavan would let you have the things," she remarked.
"It isn't often he'll lend even a hammer, but he seemed to take to you;
I think it was the way you handled his plane."
"It's strange what little things win some people's good opinion, isn't
it?"
"Oh! don't," she exclaimed. "That's how the Archdeacon talks. I thought
you were different."
The man acquiesced in the rebuke, and after an hour's labour at the
canoe, scraped the red lead he had used off his hands, and sat down
beside the craft. By and by he became conscious that his companion was
regarding him with what seemed to be approval.
"I really think you'll do, and we'll get on," she informed him. "If you
had been the wrong kind you would have worried about your red hands.
Still, you could have rubbed them on the heather, instead of on your
socks."
"I might have thought of that," Vane agreed. "But, you see, I've been
accustomed to wearing old clothes. Anyway, you'll be able to launch the
canoe as soon as the joint's dry."
"There's one thing I should have told you," the girl replied. "Dad would
have sent the canoe away to be mended if it hadn't been so far. He's
very good when things don't ruffle him; but he hasn't been fortunate
lately. The lead mine takes a good deal of money."
Vane admired her loyalty, and refrained from taking advantage of her
candour, though there were one or two questions he would have liked to
ask. When he was last in England, Chisholm had been generally regarded
as a man of means, though it was rumoured that he was addicted to
hazardous speculations. Mabel, who did not seem to mind his silence,
went on:
"I heard Stevens--he's the gamekeeper--tell Beavan that dad should have
been a rabbit because he's so fond of burrowing. No doubt, that meant he
couldn't keep out of mines."
Vane made no comment, and to change the subject, reminded her: "Don't
you think it's getting on for breakfast time?"
"It won't be for a good while yet. We don't get up early, and though
Evelyn used to, it's different now. We went out on the tarn every
morning, even in the rain; but I suppose that's not good for one's
complexion, though bothering about such things doesn't seem to be worth
while. Aunt Julia couldn't do anything for Evelyn, though she had her in
London for some time. Flora is our shining light."
"What did she do?" Vane inquired.
"She married the Archdeacon, and he isn't so very dried up. I've seen
him smile when I talked to him."
"I'm not astonished at that, Mabel."
His companion looked up at him demurely. "My name's not Mabel--to you.
I'm Mopsy to the family, but my special friends call me Mops. You're one
of the few people one can be natural with, and I'm getting sick--you
won't be shocked at that--of having to be the opposite."
Half an hour later, Vane, who had seldom had to wait so long for it, sat
down to breakfast. All he saw spoke of ease and taste and leisure.
Evelyn, who sat opposite him, looked wonderfully fresh in her white
dress. Mopsy was as amusing as she dared to be; but he felt drawn back
to the restless world again as he glanced at his hostess and saw the
wrinkles round her eyes and a hint of cleverly-hidden strain in her
expression. He fancied a good deal could be inferred from the fragments
of information her youngest daughter had let drop.
It was the latter who suggested that they should picnic upon the summit
of a lofty hill, from which there was a striking view; and as this met
with the approval of Mrs. Chisholm, who excused herself from
accompanying them, they set out an hour later. The day was bright, with
glaring sunshine, and a moderate breeze drove up wisps of ragged cloud
that dappled the hills with flitting shadow.
Vane carried the provisions in a fishing-creel, and on leaving the head
of the valley they climbed leisurely up easy slopes, slipping on the
crisp hill grass now and then. By and by they plunged into tangled
heather on a bolder ridge, which was rent by black gullies, down which
at times wild torrents poured. This did not trouble either of the men,
but Vane was surprised at the ease with which Evelyn threaded her way
across the heath. She wore a short skirt, and he noticed the supple
grace of her movements and the delicate colour the wind had brought into
her face. She had changed since they left the valley. She seemed to have
flung off something, and her laugh had a gayer ring; but while she
chatted with him he was still conscious of a subtle reserve in her
manner.
Climbing still, they reached the haunts of the cloud-berries and brushed
through broad patches of the snowy blossoms that open their gleaming
cups among the moss and heather.
Then turning the flank of a steep ascent, they reached the foot of a
shingly scree, and sat down to lunch in the warm sunshine, where the
wind was cut off by the peak above. Beneath them a great rift opened up
among the rocks, and far beyond the blue lake in the depths of it they
caught the silver gleam of the distant sea.
The creel was promptly emptied, and when Mabel afterwards took Carroll
away to see if he could get up a chimney in some neighbouring crags,
Vane lay resting on one elbow not far from Evelyn. She was looking down
the long hollow, with the sunshine upon her face.
"You didn't seem to mind the climb," he said.
"I enjoyed it. I am fond of the mountains, and I have to thank you for a
day among them."
On the surface, the words offered an opening for a complimentary
rejoinder, but Vane was too shrewd to seize it. He had made one venture,
and he surmised that a second one would not please her.
"They're almost at your door," he said. "One would imagine you could
indulge in a scramble among them whenever if pleased you."
"There are a good many things that look so close and still are out of
reach," Evelyn answered with a smile that somehow troubled him. Then her
manner changed. "You are content with this?"
Vane gazed about him; at purple crags in shadow, glistening threads of
water that fell among the rocks, and long slopes that lay steeped in
softest colour, under the summer sky.
"Content is scarcely the right word for it," he assured her. "If it
wasn't so still and serene up here, I'd be riotously happy. There are
reasons for this quite apart from the scenery: for one, it's pleasant to
feel that I need do nothing but what I like for the next few months."
"The sensation must be unusual. I wonder if, even in your case, it will
last so long."
Vane laughed and stretched out one of his hands. It was lean and brown,
and she could see the marks of old scars on the knuckles.
"In my case," he answered, "it has only come once in a lifetime, and if
it isn't too presumptuous, I think I've earned it." He indicated his
battered fingers. "That's the result of holding a wet and slippery
drill, but those aren't the only marks I carry about with me--though
I've been more fortunate than many fine comrades."
"I suppose one must get hurt now and then," said Evelyn, who had noticed
something that pleased her in his voice as he concluded. "After all, a
bruise that's only skin-deep doesn't trouble one long, and no doubt some
scars are honourable. It's slow corrosion that's the deadliest." She
broke off with a laugh, and added: "Moralising's out of place on a day
like this, and they're not frequent in the North. In a way, that's their
greatest charm."
Vane nodded.
"Yes," he said. "On the face of it, the North is fickle, though to those
who know it that's a misleading term. To some of us it's always the
same, and its dark grimness makes you feel the radiance of its smile.
For all that, I think we're going to see a sudden change in the
weather."
Half of the wide circle their view would have commanded was cut off by
the scree, but long wisps of leaden cloud began to stream across the
crags above, intensifying, until it seemed unnatural, the glow of light
and colour on the rest.
"I wonder if Mopsy is leading Mr. Carroll into any mischief; they have
been gone some time," said Evelyn. "She has a trick of getting herself,
and other people into difficulties. I suppose he is an old friend of
yours, unless, perhaps, he's acting as your secretary."
Vane's eyes twinkled. "If he came in any particular capacity, it's as
bear-leader. You see, there are a good many things I've forgotten in the
bush, and as I left this country young, there are no doubt some I never
learned."
"And so you make Mr. Carroll your confidential adviser. How did he gain
the necessary experience?"
"That," replied Vane, "is more than I can tell you, but I'm inclined to
believe he has been at one of the universities; Toronto, most likely.
Anyhow, on the whole he acts as a judicious restraint."
"But don't you really know anything about him?"
"Only what some years of close companionship have taught me."
Evelyn looked surprised, and he spread out his hands in a humorous
manner. "A good many people have had to take me in that way, and they
seemed willing to do so; the thing's not uncommon in the West. Why
should I be more particular than they were?"
Just then Mabel and Carroll appeared. The latter's garments were stained
in places as if he had been scrambling over mossy rocks, and his pockets
bulged.
"We've found some sundew and two ferns I don't know, as well as all
sorts of other things," she announced.
"That's correct," said Carroll; "I've got them. I guess they're going to
fill up most of the creel."
Mabel superintended their transfer, and then addressed the others
generally: "I think we ought to go up the Pike now, when we have the
chance. It isn't much of a climb from here. Besides, the quickest way
back to the road is across the top and down the other side."
Evelyn agreed, and they set out, following a sheep-path which skirted
the screes, until they left the bank of sharp stones behind, and faced a
steep ascent. Parts of it necessitated a breathless scramble, and the
sunlight faded from the hills as they climbed, while thicker wisps of
cloud drove across the ragged summit. They reached the latter at length
and stopped, bracing themselves against a rush of chilly breeze, while
they looked down upon a wilderness of leaden-coloured rock. Long trails
of mist were creeping in and out among the crags, and here and there
masses of it gathered round the higher slopes.
"I think the Pike's grandest in this weather," Mabel declared. "Look
below, Mr. Carroll, and you'll see the mountain is like a starfish. It
has prongs running out from it."
Carroll did as she directed him, and noticed three diverging ridges
springing off from the shoulder of the peak. Their crests, which were
narrow, led down towards the valley, but their sides fell in rent and
fissured crags to great black hollows.
"You can get down two of them," Mabel went on. "The first is the nearest
to the road, but the third's the easiest. It takes you to the Hause;
that's the gap between it and the next hill."
A few big drops began to fall, and Evelyn cut her sister's explanations
short.
"We had better make a start at once," she said.
They set out, Mabel and Carroll leading and drawing farther away from
the two behind; and the rain began in earnest as they descended. Rock
slope and scattered stones were slippery, and Vane found it difficult to
keep his footing on some of their lichened surfaces. He, however, was
relieved to see that his companion seldom hesitated, and they made their
way downwards cautiously, until, near the spot where the three ridges
diverged, they walked into a belt of drifting mist. The peak above them
was suddenly blotted out, and Evelyn bade Vane hail Carroll and Mabel,
who had disappeared. He sent a shout ringing through the vapour, and
caught a faint and unintelligible reply, after which a flock of sheep
fled past and dislodged a rush of sliding stones. Vane heard the latter
rattle far down the hillside, and when he called again a blast of chilly
wind whirled his voice away. There was a faint echo above him, and then
silence again.
"It looks as if they were out of hearing, and the slope ahead of us
seems uncommonly steep by the way those stones went down," he remarked.
"Do you think Mabel has taken Carroll down the Stanghyll ridge?"
"I can't tell," said Evelyn. "It's comforting to remember that she knows
it better than I do. I think we ought to make for the Hause; there's
only one place that's really steep. Keep up to the left a little; the
Scale Crags must be close beneath us."
They moved on cautiously, skirting what seemed to be a pit of profound
depth in which dim vapours whirled, while the rain, which grew thicker,
beat into their faces.