"FOLLOW THE GLEAM"
It was the first trip of the season and the _Inverness_ was crowded
from stem to stern. The picnic was given by the Sons of Scotland, so
every Presbyterian in the town was there. But there were many more,
for Lawyer Ed had gone out into the highways and byways of other
denominations and nationalities and had compelled Methodists and
Anglicans and Baptists and folk of every creed to come over to the
Island and hear the bagpipes and see Archie Blair toss the caber.
"Your father's got to come, Rod," he said, the evening before the
picnic. "So don't you dare show your nose here without him to-morrow."
But Old Angus laughingly refused his son's pleading. "Tuts, tuts," he
said reprovingly, "it's the foolish boy that Edward is. He is younger
than you, Lad. Indeed I'll not be going, and I think you should jist
stay at home yourself, my son. The night air will be damp and you will
not be jist too strong yet."
Roderick laughed. "Father, you will soon be as bad as Aunt Kirsty. I
do believe she is bitterly disappointed that I didn't remain an invalid
for a year, so that she might coddle me. I wouldn't miss this picnic
for all Algonquin. It will be my first festivity since I was sick, and
I want you to be in it."
The old man looked up into his son's face, his eyes shining. This new
Roderick who had come back to him, maimed and weakened, right from the
very gates of death was even more to him than the old Roderick. Not
that his love had grown, nor his faith, that was impossible. But while
he had always had high hopes that the Lad would one day fulfil all his
fondest dreams, now he saw those dreams being fulfilled right before
his eyes. There was a strong sentinel on the Jericho Road now, and the
Good Samaritan could scarcely bear to part with him even for a day.
But he shook his head happily. No, no; Peter was coming over in the
morning to look at the north field, and they would just row out as far
as Wanda Island and hear the pipes, when the _Inverness_ went past, and
they would come back and stay at home with Aunt Kirsty like a pair of
sensible old bodies.
Roderick managed to catch Lawyer Ed in the office for a few moments in
the morning and reported his failure. His chief called him many hard
names, as he rushed out to catch a passer-by and make him come to the
picnic, and Roderick locked the office door and went down to the wharf.
There lay the _Inverness_, her gunwale sinking to the water's edge
under her joyous freight, banners flying from every place a banner
could be flown, and the band, and Harry Lauder's piper brother making
the town and the lake and the woods beyond ring with music.
Immediately after Roderick's disappointing message had been delivered,
Lawyer Ed rushed down Main Street and spied Afternoon Tea Willie
driving the Baldwin girls down town to buy some almond cream to take to
the picnic, in case of sunburn. And in his usual high-handed way, he
had hailed them, sent the girls home on foot, and the young man
spinning out to the McRae farm with stern commands not to dare return
without Old Angus.
So when Roderick was standing on the wharf talking to Dr. Archie Blair,
all resplendent in his kilt he was amazed to see coming down Main
Street, the smartest buggy in the town, and in it Alf. Wilbur, driving
his father, and more amazing still, by his side sat old Peter, with his
fiddle in a case across his knee. They drew up at the edge of the
wharf with a splendid flourish, and Afternoon Tea Willie with his
innate good manners, sprang out to help the two old men alight with as
great deference as if they had been a couple of charming young ladies
just come to town.
Roderick sprang forward and caught his father's hand as he stepped out,
laughing in sheer delight. His eyes were misty with deep feeling. In
the first quick glance he had turned upon the faces of the two old men,
smiling in a half-ashamed, half-pleased way, like a couple of boys
caught running away from school; Roderick had been struck with their
strange resemblance. His father's refined face and his white hair had
once made an absolute contrast to poor Old Peter's bloated countenance,
but with the last half-year, Old Peter's face and form had been
undergoing a change. Not since that terrible winter night when he had
almost caused the death of his best friend had he fallen. It had been
a hard fight sometimes, but the great victory won by the temperance
folk on New Year's Day had been a victory for Peter. On the first of
May the bar-rooms of Algonquin had closed. And now Peter walked the
streets unafraid. And with his new courage and hope, his manhood had
returned and he was slowly and surely growing like the man whose
life-long devotion had brought him salvation.
Doctor Blair saw them and came swinging up to make the old men welcome.
Then Doctor Leslie sighted them and came forward in delighted
amazement, and Captain Jimmie spied them from the wheel house and
called out joyfully, "Hoots, toots, Angus! And is that you, Peter
Lad?" And the Ancient Mariner left off smoking, and, pouring out a
stream of Gaelic above the roar of the pipes, came right out on the
wharf to make sure his eyes had not deceived him.
Roderick guided the two to seats up on the deck near to the captain's
pilot house, finding the way thither a veritable triumphal procession.
The crowds were still coming down Main Street; nervous mothers with
babies bouncing wildly in their little buggies, embarrassed fathers
with great sagging baskets and hysterical children with their newly
starched attire already wildly rumpled.
Roderick scanned each new group eagerly, wondering if Helen Murray
would come. He had seen little of her since his return. A long
illness following the critical operation had kept him at home, and when
at last he was able to go out again and take up his work he found that
gossip had it that Miss Murray, the pretty girl who taught in the East
Ward school had had a young man to visit her. Miss Annabel had been
quite excited over him, for he was very handsome and was a successful
surgeon, and Miss Armstrong had pronounced him a splendid match for any
girl. Roderick had been spared a visit from Dick Wells, and had
wondered that the young man had not kept his promise. He had longed
and yet dreaded to see him. He had been able to learn nothing about
the visit except what gossip said, and to-day he was full of hope and
fear, as he watched. His fears were stronger, but he was young and he
could not keep from hoping.
The _Inverness_, as every one in Algonquin knew, gave ample warning of
her leave-taking. At exactly half-an-hour before the hour set for
sailing, she always blew one long blast from her whistle. At fifteen
minutes to the hour she blew two shorter toots, and just on the eve of
departure three blasts loud and sharp. This final warning, which
Doctor Blair had profanely named the last trump, had been sounded, and
Roderick began to look anxious for she had not yet appeared nor Mrs.
Adams either. But he had gone sailing on picnics via the _Inverness_
too many times to be seriously alarmed. The door of the little
wheel-house where the captain had now taken his stand, commanded a view
of Main Street rising up from the water, and no native of Algonquin
could do him the injustice to suppose that he would sail away while any
one was waving to him from the hill.
A half dozen women were signalling him now, and the captain blew a
reassuring blast. And then round the corner from Elm Street, moving
leisurely, came a stout swaying figure, with floating draperies.
Children clung to her hands, children hung by her skirts, children ran
after her and children danced before her. And long before she reached
the water's edge could be heard her admonitions, "Now, you, Johnnie
Pickett, don't you dare to walk down there in the dirt. Maddie Willis,
just you tie that hat on your head again, you'll get a sunstroke, you
know you will. Jimmie Hurd, you leave that poor little dog alone--"
Roderick looked eagerly beyond the lady, and there she was, at the rear
of the procession, bringing up the stragglers. She was wearing a dress
of that dull blue he liked to see her wear, the blue that was just a
shade paler than her eyes, and she wore a big white shady hat. As she
came nearer he could see she was laughing at Johnnie Pickett's wicked
antics. Her face had lost all its old sadness. Roderick's heart was
filled with a great foreboding. Had Dick Wells' visit brought that new
colour to her cheek and the sparkle to her eyes? He wanted to go down
and help her and her flock on board, for Gladys Hurd and Mrs. Perkins
and Eddie and the baby were with her, and a half-dozen little folk were
asking each a half-dozen questions of her at one moment. But he stood
back shyly watching her from a distance, as Dr. Blair and Harry Lauder
and the rest of the Highland Club helped them on board, the Piper
meanwhile circling around Madame much to her disgust.
When they were all on board and the _Inverness_ had again given the
three short shrieks which announced she was really and truly starting,
Roderick suddenly realised that Lawyer Ed was not on board. Now a
Scotchman's picnic without Lawyer Ed was an absurd and unthinkable
thing, beside which Hamlet without the Prince of Denmark would have
seemed perfectly reasonable and natural. He ran to the captain, but
there were several ahead of him with the dire news. For the
_Inverness_ had no sooner begun to move from the wharf than the awful
truth had dawned upon a dozen folk at once. They had rushed from three
directions and attacked the captain and Young Peter and the Ancient
Mariner and demanded of them what they meant by such outrageous
conduct. Very much abashed by her mistake the _Inverness_ came surging
back, the captain taking refuge in the Gaelic to express his dismay.
They were just in time, for there he was tearing down the street in his
buggy, Miss Annabel Armstrong and Mrs. Captain Willoughby squeezed in
beside him and the horse going at such a breakneck pace that the dust
and stones flew up on every side and there was danger that they would
drive right into the lake. They stopped just on the brink. Lawyer Ed
leaped out, flung the lines to a lounger on the dock bidding him take
the horse back to the stable, helped the ladies alight, and had rushed
them on board before the gang-plank could be put in place. The crowd
cheered, and he waved his hat and shouted with laughter, over the
narrow escape; but the ladies looked a little ruffled. They had not
intended to come to the picnic; the day of private launches and
motor-cars was dawning over Algonquin, and these public picnics were
not in favour among the best people, therefore Mrs. Captain Willoughby
had felt that she did not care to go, and the Misses Armstrong had felt
they did not dare to go. But Lawyer Ed did not approve of social
distinctions of any sort whatever, and he was determined that the best
people should come out and have a good time like the worst. So he had
gone right into the enemy's camp and carried off two of the leaders
captive, and here they were half-laughing and half-annoyed and
explaining carefully to their friends how they had not had the
slightest intention of coming in such a mixed crowd but that dreadful
man just made them.
Once more the _Inverness_ gave her last agonised shriek, the captain
shouted to the Ancient Mariner to get away there, for what was he doing
whatever, and with a great deal of fussing and steaming and whistling
the voyage was again commenced. The band gave place to the Piper, and
he marched out to the tune of "The Cock o' the North," looking exactly
like a great giant humming-bird, his plumage flashing in the sunlight,
as he went buzzing around the deck. Harry Lauder and the doctor and
two or three others of the frivolous young folk in the kilts went away
off to where the minister could not see them and danced a Highland
reel. The people who did not quite approve of public picnics gathered
in a group by themselves, Miss Annabel Armstrong and Mrs. Captain
Willoughby in the centre, and told each other all the latest news about
Toronto, and yawned and wished they could have a game of whist, but Dr.
Leslie would be sure to see them. The tired mothers who seldom went
beyond their garden gate, handed over their children to Mrs.
Doasyouwouldbedoneby, and settled themselves contentedly in a circle to
have a good old-fashioned visit. Up in the bow, a group of the older
men surrounded Dr. Leslie. Old Angus McRae was so seldom seen at any
festivity that his presence had made the picnic an event to his old
friends. Again and again Dr. Leslie placed his hand on the old man's
knee and said, "Well, well, Angus, it's a treat to see you here." And
Peter Fiddle, the outcast and drunkard, sat in the group and listened
eagerly to their talk like a man who had been long away and was eager
to hear again the speech of his native land. And indeed poor Peter had
been for many years in a far country, and his return had opened up a
new life to him. Roderick sat behind his father's chair and listened
as they talked and wondered to hear Peter take his part with a fine
intelligence. He looked at his father and thought of all the weary
years he had toiled for Peter, and he was filled with a great gratitude
that this was the sort of splendid work to which he had been called.
He would take his father's place on the Jericho Road. It might be a
highway here in Algonquin, the future was all unquestioned, but
wherever it was the Vision would stand by him as He had stood in that
hour of despair. And how glorious to think he might pick up a Peter
from the dirt and help to restore him to his manhood.
J. P. Thornton had led the conversation to theological subjects. J. P.
read along many lines, and it was whispered that he had queer ideas
about the Bible.
Lawyer Ed had been balancing himself on the railing of the deck
listening for some time but it was impossible that he could stay in the
one place long when the whole boat was crowded with his intimate
friends. So when J. P. intimated that modern criticism pointed to two
Isaiahs and Jock McPherson strongly objected to the second one, Lawyer
Ed yawned, and telling them he would be back in an instant, he wandered
away.
"Come awa, ma braw John Hielanman," he whispered to Roderick. "This is
a heavy subject for a pair of young fellows like you and me on a picnic
day, come along and see what Archie Blair's up to. I'll bet my new
bonnet and plume he's dancing the Highland fling in some obscure
corner."
Roderick went most willingly. He knew Lawyer Ed would go straight to
Madame, and where Madame was, there would she be also.
Afternoon Tea Willie who had finally come on board with a dozen young
ladies, was running here and there at their beck and call in desperate
haste. Lawyer Ed paused to chat with the girls, for he could never
pass even one, and Roderick turned to Alfred and thanked him for the
service to his father.
"Oh, that's nothing at all!" cried the young man. "You did me a favour
lots of times, Rod. When I had no one else to talk to and tell my
trouble!" He smiled at the remembrance of them. His cheek was flushed
and his eyes were glowing. He looked as though he possessed some great
secret. He came close and began to speak hesitatingly and Roderick
knew he was going to be the recipient of more confidences. "Say, Rod,
do you see that young lady over there beside Anna Baldwin?" Roderick
looked and saw the latest arrival in Algonquin, a very handsome and
well-dressed young lady who was visiting the Misses Baldwin. "Yes,"
said Roderick in a very callous manner, "I see her." He drew Roderick
away a little distance from the group and whispered:
"Well--I--this is in strict confidence, you know, Roderick; I would not
confide in any one but you, you know. But--well--that is she!"
"She? who?" asked Roderick.
Alfred looked pained. "Why the only she in all the world for me. Her
name is Eveline Allan. Did you ever hear anything more musical? She
came here just last week to visit the Baldwin girls, and they asked me
to go to the station to meet her with them, and the moment I set eyes
on her I just knew she was the only one in the world for me. I have
sometimes imagined myself to be in love, but it was all imagination. I
never really knew before."
Roderick found it impossible to conceal a smile.
"Oh, I know what you are thinking about, you are wondering if I have
forgotten Miss Murray. But I have lived that down long ago. It was
madness for me to think of one who was in love with another man."
Roderick looked at him so eloquently that he went on.
"I never really cared for her, in that way, anyway. I realise that
now, and now that the man she was engaged to has come back--"
"What?" asked Roderick sharply.
"The man she was engaged to. Don't you remember my telling you about
him? Why, they have made up again. He was here to see her last winter
and he was in Toronto to see her in the Easter holidays when she was
down there. I was very glad that it has all turned out so, for I found
out my mistake as soon as I set eyes on Eveline. I know I ought not to
call her that yet, and I don't to her of course. Don't you think she
has wonderful eyes? I always felt that dark eyes are much more
expressive than blue or even hazel ones, don't you? Oh, there is Anna
calling me. Excuse me, I must run."
He flew back to the group, and Roderick was left to digest what he had
told him. Unfortunately Alfred had a reputation for finding out things
and he had no reason to doubt his assertion. He slowly followed Lawyer
Ed about. They made their way down the length of the deck, his chief
shaking hands with every one, and at last away in the stern under a
shady awning he saw her. She was seated with Madame on one side,
little Mrs. Perkins on the other, Gladys Hurd and Eddie at her feet,
the Perkins' baby on her knee and a crowd of children about her. There
was no hope of having a word with her even had he the courage to go
forward and speak to her.
The children were sitting open mouthed, staring up into the face of
Mrs. Doasyouwouldbedoneby, while in low thrilling tones she was telling
how the dreadful big giant came slowly up the stairs, every step
creaking under him, and the lovely Princess behind the door just
squeezed herself into a teenty weenty crack and held her breath till he
got past.
Lawyer Ed burst into the story with a roar, and every one leaped and
shrieked as if the giant himself had sprung into their midst. He
caught two of the youngsters and bumped their heads together, he chased
a shrieking half dozen to a refuge behind a pile of life-preservers, he
tossed a couple up in the air and pretended he was going to fling them
overboard, and finally he took out a great package from his pocket and
sent a shower of pink "gum-drops" raining down over the deck, and the
whole boat was turned into a mad and joyful riot!
Roderick lingered about for a few minutes until Miss Murray nodded and
smiled to him across a surging sea of little heads, then he wandered
down below to where the Ancient Mariner was seated spinning yarns to a
crowd of young people.
"Indeed and I could tell you many as good a one as that," he was saying
in response to the sighs of amazement. "I haff a great head for the
tales. If I would jist be hafing the grammar I would challenge anybody
to beat me at them. Take Scott now. He had the grammar. That's what
makes folk think his stories are so great. But if I had just had his
chance! You get an eddication, you young people. There's nothing like
the grammar indeed!"
Roderick leaned over the little pit of the engine room and talked with
Young Peter. The dull eyes were shining. This was a great day for
Peter.
"Did you see him?" he whispered to Roderick. "Did you see my father?
driving down with your father? Jist like any gentleman! Eh, but it
was mighty."
"Yes, it's splendid to see them together at last, Pete," said Roderick
sympathetically. And then he had to listen again to the tale Young
Peter never tired telling, how Rod's father had saved his father that
stormy night on the Jericho Road. How Lawyer Ed could not sleep
because Roderick had left him, and how he had driven out to the farm in
the night to comfort Angus and had found the two on the road nearly
frozen! Young Peter had an attentive listener, for Roderick could not
tire of hearing the wonderful story.
They had passed through the Gates, and the news went around that the
Island was near. It was a beautiful big stretch of green with a
sloping shingly beach at one end, and a high range of white cliffs at
the other, which J. P. Thornton said made him homesick, for they always
reminded him of England.
There were many islands in Lake Algonquin; nevertheless when you said
The Island every one knew you meant that big, lovely, grassy place away
out beyond the Gates, swept by the cool breezes of Lake Simcoe where
Algonquin always went for her picnics.
When the cry went forth that the Island was at hand every one ran to
the railing and leaned over to watch the _Inverness_ slip in between
the big stone breakwater and the dock which stretched out to meet them.
Captain Jimmie from his wheel-house called to them, threateningly and
beseechingly, commanding every one to go back or she'd be going over
whatever. As usual no one heeded him and so the accident happened.
Perhaps it was the lure of the Piper, now skirling madly from the bow,
with flying ribbons, that distracted the captain, as well as the
disobedience of the passengers; whatever was the reason, the
_Inverness_, generally so stately and staid, suddenly gave a lurch, and
went crash into the wharf as though she intended to ride right over the
Island. Of course in a tourney with the _Inverness_, there could be
only one result. The wharf heaved up and went over like an unhorsed
knight accompanied by a terrible creaking and ripping and groaning as
of armour being rent asunder. Disaster always stripped Captain Jimmie
of his nautical cloak and left him the true landsman. He dashed out of
his little house and leaning over the railing shouted to the Ancient
Mariner: "Sandy, ye gomeril! Back her up, back up, man, she's goin'
over!"
There were shouts and shrieks from the passengers even above the din of
the Piper who played gallantly on. The crowd rushed to the side to see
what had happened, and there might have been a real catastrophe had not
Lawyer Ed taken command. While the captain and the Ancient Mariner
were fiercely arguing the question of whose fault it was, he dashed
into the crowd and bade every one in a voice of thunder to go back to
his or her seats and be quiet. Lawyer Ed was a terrifying sight when
he was angry, and he was promptly obeyed. The excited crowd scattered,
the children were collected, the alarm subsided and they all waited
laughingly to see what was to be done.
Meantime Dr. Blair and Harry Lauder had launched a canoe that was on
board and were paddling round the wharf to investigate.
"I'm afraid it's hopeless, Jimmie!" shouted the doctor. For the floor
of the landing place had almost assumed the perpendicular. "Nobody
could land here that wasn't a chipmunk!"
This was disconcerting news and a wail arose from Madame's flock.
"Haud yer whist!" roared Lawyer Ed. "We'll get to land somehow, if I
have to swim to shore with you all on my back. Hi!" he gave a shout
that made the beech woods on the Island ring.
"Hi! Archie, mon! You and Harry paddle over and bring that scow!
We'll load her and go ashore like Robinson Crusoes!"
A big scow or float, used as a rest for row boats and canoes lay near
the end of the dock moored to the shore. A couple of agile young men
leaped upon the upturned wharf, and making their way on all fours along
it, they reached the scow in time to assist the doctor and Harry Lauder
to bring it to the side of the boat. Meanwhile Lawyer Ed stood up on
the deck and roared out superfluous orders in a broad Scottish dialect
that was rather overdone.
The rescuing vessel was received with cheers and the gang-plank was put
in place.
"Women and children first!" cried Ed heroically, but Madame, in the
centre of her flock called out an indignant refusal.
"No, indeed, the children are not going first. You, Johnnie Pickett
and Jimmie Hurd, you come right back off that thing, do you hear me?
You go along yourself some of you Scotchmen, and see if it will hold,
and then I'll bring my babies. You're in your bathing suits anyway,"
she added cruelly, for Mrs. Doasyouwouldbedoneby was not a Scotchwoman,
and did not know how to appreciate the kilts.
So the Piper marched out upon the scow, playing magnificently; some
dozen young men followed him and with poles pushed themselves ashore.
Then, amid cheers a couple of volunteers came back for another load
from the wrecked vessel. When several trips had been made successfully
and Madame and the children had been safely landed, Alfred Wilbur came
forward and offered to pole a crowd over. Of course the crowd
consisted of young ladies with the Baldwin girls and their pretty guest
as the centre piece.
Alfred placed himself upon the scow, pole in hand and with many gallant
remarks from Lawyer Ed the young ladies were handed on board. One by
one they tripped out over the gang-plank, laughing gaily, their muslins
and ribbons, their sashes and bracelets, their pink cheeks and bright
eyes transforming the old scow into a floating garden. No wonder
Alfred became excited over captaining such a fair cargo. In his
nervous zeal he encouraged more than his sailing capacity would admit,
and when the scow was almost crowded he saw to his dismay that the
Baldwin girls and their guest had not yet come on board. He had
pictured himself, pole in hand, shoving off before all the picnickers
with Miss Allan clinging to his arm, and he began to grow anxious lest
she be carried off in one of the row boats now come to the rescue.
"Move over further, won't you, girls, please," he called to his
laughing, chattering crew. "I mean move a little aft won't you,
please. I beg your pardon for troubling you, Belle! Alice! If you
and Flossie--Come, Anna. Come, Louise! Anna, bring Miss Allan;
there's acres of room yet."
Thus encouraged, another group tripped over the gang-plank and at the
same moment, those already on board, anxious to oblige Alf, who was
always obliging them, crowded over to the farther side. But so much
weight suddenly placed on one end of the scow brought dire disaster.
Without a moment's warning, down went the heavy end three feet into the
water, half submerging its shrieking passengers, and up came the light
end with the unfortunate pilot perched upon it like Hiawatha's
Adjidaumo, on the end of his Cheemaun!
Fortunately the water was not deep, and in a moment a dozen young men
had plunged in and righted the capsized craft. But there were shrieks
from all sides and threats of fainting, and dreadful anathemas heaped
upon the innocent cause of the disaster, as the bedraggled young
ladies, lately so trim, crawled back to the _Inverness_.
The catastrophe could not possibly have happened to any one whom it
would distress more than Alf. He stood in speechless dismay watching
the dripping procession pass. And when the pretty guest of the Baldwin
girls splashed past him with a look which would have been withering had
she not been so drenched, his despair was complete. He looked for a
few moments as if he were about to throw himself into the lake, then he
flung down his pole, and crept away aft to hide his diminished head
behind a pile of life-preservers. Roderick captured a row-boat, and
placed his father and Old Peter and a couple of their friends in it,
and with the huge basket Aunt Kirsty had packed for them he rowed to
shore.
When they landed, the old men seated themselves on a grassy mound under
a big elm, and the basket was snatched from Roderick's hand and whirled
away to the commissariat department in a big pavilion near at hand.
In a short time the long white tables were set beneath the trees with a
musical tinkling of cups; there was a table for the Sons themselves and
their friends, a table for the commoner folk and, farther up the shore,
here and there, little groups of friends gathered by themselves. There
was Madame seated on the ground away off at the edge of the beech
grove, like the queen of the fairies holding court. The fairies were
all there, too, seated in a wide circle, too busy to talk, as the
sandwiches and cake and pie disappeared. Roderick had not once lost
sight of Helen. She was there too, with Mrs. Perkins and Gladys. But
he had to turn his back on the pretty group and join his father at the
table spread for the Sons of Scotland. Dr. Leslie stood up at the head
of it, his white hair ruffled by the lake breeze, and asked a blessing
on the feast. And when the Scotchmen had put on their bonnets again
and were seated the Piper tuned up once more and swept around the
tables playing a fine strathspey. Lawyer Ed had a seat near the head
of the table but he was too happy to sit still and kept it only at
intervals. He ran up and down the tables, darted away to this group
and that, taking a bite here and a drink there, until Dr. Blair
declared that Ed had eaten seven different and separate meals by the
time the tables were cleared away.
He stopped at a little group seated around a white table cloth laid
upon the grass, to inquire if they would like some more hot water.
"No," said Mrs. Captain Willoughby, whose party it was. "We've plenty.
We've been in hot water, in fact, ever since we started. Annabel and I
are having a dispute we want settled. Come here, Edward, I'm sure you
can decide."
"It's perfect nonsense," broke in Miss Annabel. "Leslie is no more
likely to marry him than you are, Margaret!"
"Marry whom?" asked Lawyer Ed eagerly, "Me?"
Miss Annabel screamed and said he was perfectly dreadful, but Mrs.
Willoughby broke in.
"No, not you, you conceited thing, but your partner. I thought Leslie
claimed him as her property. She practically told the Baldwin girls
she intended to marry Roderick McRae. And now she's left him and gone
off to be a nurse."
Miss Annabel's fair face flushed hotly. "How utterly preposterous.
Why, if you lived at Rosemount you'd know whom Mr. McRae would be
likely to marry. As for Leslie, she never cared any more for him than
you did. You know how she loves fun. She was just enjoying herself.
I admit that she might have found a better way of putting in the time,
but it was only a girl's nonsense. I was just dreadful that way myself
when I was Leslie's age, a few years ago."
"Indeed you were, Annabel," cried Lawyer Ed, scenting danger and wisely
steering to a safer subject, "You were a dreadful flirt. Many a heart
you broke and I am afraid you haven't reformed either."
This put the lady into a good humour at once. She laughed gaily,
confessing that she was really awfully giddy she knew, but she could
not help it. And Mrs. Captain Willoughby, who never encouraged Miss
Annabel in her youthfulness, said very dryly that she supposed they had
all been silly when they were girls but she believed there was a time
for everything.
Lawyer Ed saw conversational rocks ahead once more and piloted around
them. "What is this I hear about Leslie?" he asked. "Is she going to
be a nurse?"
"Oh, dear," groaned Miss Annabel. "That girl will break her mother's
heart, and all our hearts. Just think of Leslie who never did a thing
harder than put up her own hair going to be a nurse. It is perfectly
absurd, but she has gone and Elizabeth will just have to let her go on
until experience teaches her better."
"I think it's the most sensible thing she ever did," declared Mrs.
Willoughby, "and you shouldn't discourage her. She'll make a fine wife
for that boy of yours, Edward."
Lawyer Ed shook his head. He had had his own shrewd suspicions
regarding Roderick for some time and Miss Annabel's hint had set him
thinking.
"I've been such a conspicuous failure in any attempt to get a wife of
my own," he said in the deepest melancholy, "that I wouldn't presume to
prescribe for any other man." And he hastened back to his own table.
It was a great day. The Scotchmen ran races, and tossed the caber and
walked the greasy pole across from the capsized dock to the
_Inverness_. The Piper played, and the band played, and everybody ate
all the ice cream and popcorn and drank all the lemonade possible.
At exactly seven o'clock the _Inverness_ gave a terrible roar. This
was to warn every one that going home time had arrived. Mrs.
Doasyouwouldbedoneby began collecting the fairies for the difficult
task of getting them on the scow and thence to the _Inverness_. All
day Lawyer Ed had been keeping an eye on Roderick and had no difficulty
in confirming his suspicion that the Lad was unhappy, and he
immediately conceived of a plan to help him. He called a half-dozen
young men together and just as Madame was ready to walk across the
Island to the scow, Lawyer Ed came rowing round the bend with a fleet
of boats to carry them all down to the _Inverness_. Then such a joyful
scrambling and climbing as there was, while Mrs. Doasyouwouldbedoneby
got her water-babies afloat. Lawyer Ed had seen to it that Roderick
was in charge of the one canoe, and as a row-boat in the eyes of
Algonquin youths, was a thing to be despised, all the older
water-babies screamed with joy at the sight of him, and as soon as he
had run it up on the sand they swarmed into it filling it to
overflowing.
This was likely to ruin all Lawyer Ed's fine plan and he charged down
upon them with a terrible roar and chased them all to the shelter of
Madame's skirts.
"Get away back there, you young rascals!" he shouted. "You ought to
know better than to try a load like that, Rod, you simpleton. Two
passengers at the most are all you want with that arm of yours!" He
glanced about him. Helen Murray was standing near with the Perkins
baby in her arms, while the little mother, free from all care for the
first time in many hard years, was wandering happily about with her
hands full of wild roses.
"Here, Miss Murray," he cried, "you jump in. You are just the right
weight for this maimed pilot. 'Ere, William 'Enry, you come to me!"
But William Henry, now a sturdy little fellow of a-year-and-a-half,
tightened his arms around his friend's neck and yelled his disapproval
right valiantly.
"Well, now, will yer look at that!" cried the little mother proudly.
"Wot'll Daddy say w'en I tell 'im? The little rascal's so took with
the young loidy. 'Ush up there now, bless 'is 'eart. See, 'e'll go
with mammy." She dropped her roses into Gladys's hands, and held out
her arms, and the fickle young gentleman, let go his grip on his
friend, and leaped upon his mother, crowing and squealing with delight.
Helen waved him farewell as she stepped into the canoe, and the baby
waved her a fat square paw in return. Gladys and Eddie were about to
follow her, when the Lawyer Ed again interposed.
"No, you mustn't take a load, Rod, this is your first paddle, so get
away with you. Now you kids, hop into this boat and you'll be there
just as soon as Miss Murray!" he roared. Roderick pushed off afraid to
look at his chief lest the overwhelming gratitude he felt might be seen
in his face.
Lawyer Ed turned and watched them for a moment. They made a fine
picture as they glided up the curving shore under the drooping birches
and alders. Roderick kneeling in the stern, straight and strong, with
no sign now of the illness he had been through, and the girl in the
bow, her blue gown and her uncovered golden head making a bit of
colouring perfectly harmonious with the sparkling waves and the sunlit
sands.
But Lawyer Ed's gaze was fixed on Roderick. The joy in the Lad's eyes,
answered in his own. Lawyer Ed's joys were all of the vicarious sort.
He was always happy because he made other people so, but to be able to
make Rod happy; that was his crowning joy.
Roderick was more afraid than happy. It seemed too good to be true,
that she was here with him alone. At first he could do nothing but
look at her in silence. She was so much more beautiful than he had
thought, with that new radiance in her eyes. And then his own brief
happiness waned, as he wondered miserably if it had been brought there
by Dick Wells.
She was the first to speak. "Are you getting quite strong again?" she
asked kindly.
"Oh yes, I am quite myself. I feel ready for any kind of work now."
"Then I suppose you will be going back to Montreal?"
"No." Roderick had made that decision long ago. "No, I could not go
with the firm that engaged me--now." He was thinking how impossible
those mining deals would be in the eyes of one who had been granted a
glimpse into the unseen. Henceforth he knew there was no such work for
him. "For mine eyes hath seen the King," he often repeated to himself.
She misunderstood him. "Oh," she said, "I thought--I was told that Mr.
Graham's lawyers wanted you, that the position had been kept for you."
"Yes, they were very kind, but I could not. Something happened that
made it impossible for me to take up their work again. So for the
present I am a fixture in Algonquin, until Lawyer Ed grows tired of me."
She laughed at that, for Lawyer Ed's love for Roderick was a proverb in
Algonquin. He had never heard her laugh before. The sound was very
musical.
"You will stay a long time then," she said. "Algonquin is a good place
to live in."
"You like it?" he asked eagerly.
"Yes, ever so much. I shall be sorry to leave at the mid-summer
vacation."
Roderick's heart stood still. "I--I didn't know," he faltered. "I
thought you were staying for the whole year."
She looked up at him, and then her eyes fell. The mingled adoration
and hunger and dismay written plainly in the Lad's frank eyes were
impossible to misunderstand. She had seen that look there before many
times in the past winter. She had been afraid of it then, and she had
run away from his good-bye that snowy day when he had left Algonquin.
For then she had not wanted to see that look in the eyes of any man.
She had seen it once before and had yielded to its spell, and the
love-light had died out and left her life desolate. But since she had
last talked with Roderick McRae, she had seen those eyes again, lit
with the old love, and to her amazement she had found no answer in her
heart. She had far outgrown Dick Wells in her self-forgetful life she
had taken up in Algonquin. She had taken up the burdens of others just
to ease her own pain, promising herself that when this or that task was
finished she could turn to her own grief and nurse it. But the
self-indulgence had been so long postponed that when the opportunity
came and she had gone back to her old sorrow, behold it was gone. And
in its place sat the memory of Roderick McRae's unspoken devotion, his
chivalrous silent waiting for his opportunity.
So when poor Roderick all unschooled in hiding his feelings let her see
in one swift glance all that her going meant to him she was speechless
before the joy of it. She stooped and trailed her fingers in the green
water, to hide her happy confusion. Then remembering she was leaving
him under a misunderstanding she glanced up at him swiftly.
"I don't," she said breathlessly, "I didn't mean I was going away to
stay. I meant only for the summer holidays."
The transformation of his countenance was a further revelation, had she
needed any.
"Oh," he said, and then paused. "Oh, I'm so glad!" Very simple words
but they contained volumes. He was silent for a moment unable to say
any more, and she filled in the awkward pause nervously, scarcely
knowing what she said.
"You were sorry too, were you not, when you went away?"
"It was the hardest task I ever met in my life," said Roderick. "And
you didn't let me say good-bye to you." He was growing quite reckless
now to speak thus to a young lady who might be going to announce her
engagement.
She had not gained anything by her headlong plunge into conversation so
she tried again.
"Not even your operation?" she asked. "That was worse, wasn't it?"
"My operation wasn't hard," said Roderick dreamily, his mind going back
to the sacred wonder of that hour. "No, I had--help." He said it
hesitatingly. It was hard to mention that event, even to her. He had
spoken of it to no living person but his father.
"Indeed, I heard about how brave you were," she said. "I was told that
there was never any one with such self-control."
Roderick looked at her in alarm. "Who told you?" he asked abruptly.
She looked straight across at him and her eyes were very steady, though
her colour rose. "Doctor Wells told me. He assisted, didn't he?"
Roderick's eyes fell. He tried to answer but he sat before her dumb
and dismayed. She saw his confusion, and rightly guessed the cause.
Her nature was too simple and direct to pretend, she wanted to tell him
the truth and she did not know how.
"Doctor Wells was here last winter," she faltered, as a beginning, then
could get no further. Roderick made a desperate effort to regain
control of himself, and spoke with an attempt at nonchalance.
"Yes, he told me he was coming. He promised to come and see me too,
but he didn't."
"No," she caught a twig of cedar from a branch that brushed her
fragrantly as she passed. Her fingers trembled as she held it to her
lips. "He--he told you he was coming?" she asked.
"Yes," said poor Roderick briefly.
"Then--then, perhaps he told you why?" She was examining the cedar
sprig carefully, and Roderick was thankful. He would not have cared
for her to see his face just then. She was going to tell him of her
renewed engagement he knew.
"Yes, he told me," he said. She was silent for a little, looking away
over the ripples of Lake Simcoe to the green arms of the channel that
showed the way to Algonquin.
"Would it--would you think it right to tell me what he said?"
"He said," repeated Roderick, wishing miserably that Wells' words did
him less credit, "he said that even if a fellow played the fool once in
his life that was no reason why he should take it up as a life's
profession." He paused and then came out in the boldness of
desperation with the rest. "And he said that he was pretty sure he
would get a welcome when he came." She flushed at that, and there came
a proud sparkle into her eyes.
She sat erect and looked Roderick straight in the eyes. "And now,
since you have told me,--and I thank you for it,--I must give you his
message. He left one for you."
"Yes?" Roderick braced himself as for a blow.
"Yes, he left a message for you. I did not intend to deliver it but
since he confided in you I feel I am doing no harm. He said to tell
you the reason he couldn't wait to see you was that he had played the
fool once more, and that was when he thought a woman couldn't forget."
She dropped her eyes when she had finished. Her fine courage was gone.
She dipped one trembling hand into the water again and laid it against
her hot cheek.
Roderick sat and looked at her for a moment uncomprehending. It took
some time to grasp all that her confession meant. When finally its
meaning dawned upon him, he drew in a great breath.
"Oh!" he said in a wondering whisper. "I never was so happy in my
life!" It was not a very eloquent speech, it did not seem at all
relevant, but she seemed to understand. She glanced up for an instant
with a shy smile, and then Lawyer Ed with Mrs. Doasyouwouldbedoneby and
such a load of water-babies, that they looked as if they might sink
into their native caves, came shouting round the point, and bore down
upon them.
The sun was sinking into the island maze of Lake Algonquin and the moon
was coming up out of Lake Simcoe when the _Inverness_ sailed homeward
through the Gates. The little breeze that had danced all day out on
the larger lake had gone to sleep here in the shelter of the islands,
and Algonquin lay as still as a golden mirror. A faint shimmer of
colour was spread over it like a shining veil. It was scarcely
discernible where the crystal water lay motionless, but as the
_Inverness_ sailed across the delicate web it broke into waves of amber
and lilac and rose. The little islands did not seem to touch the water
but floated in the air like dream-islands, deep purple and bronze in
the shadows. From their depths arose vesper songs. Bob White's silver
whistle, clear and sweet, the White throat's long call of "Canada,
Canada, Canada," as though the little patriot could never tell all his
love and joy in his beautiful home, the loon's eery laugh far away down
the golden channel, and the whippoorwill and the cat-bird and the veery
in the tree-tops. It was a wonderful night.
As the sunset colours grew fainter, and the moon's silver brightened,
the passengers became quieter. The Piper went below and listened to
the Ancient Mariner spin a yarn, and let the birds along the shore
furnish music. The babies fell asleep in the arms of Mrs.
Doasyouwouldbedoneby, lovers drifted away in pairs to retired nooks.
In a quiet corner J. P. Thornton and Lawyer Ed sat and laid once more
their final plans for a trip to the Holy Land, certain this time of
their realisation. The older people sat by the wheel house and talked
of their younger days. Roderick left his father the centre of the
group, and went in search of Helen. He found her sitting in a
sheltered nook with Gladys. The Perkins baby had fallen asleep in her
arms, and as Roderick approached the younger girl lifted the baby to
carry him to his mother. He slipped into her seat by Helen's side.
She smiled at him. It seemed quite natural and right that he should
take that place without asking permission.
They leaned over the railing, the brightness of the sunset reflected in
their faces and talked of many things, of the first time he had seen
her here on the _Inverness_, of his hopes and ambitions for a career of
greatness, as he had counted greatness, of his chasing the shifting
rainbow gold, until a Voice had said "Thus far shalt thou go." He even
hinted at the Vision that had come to him when he went down into the
Valley named of the Shadow, and of how he knew now the value of that
real gold at the end of life's rainbow. And she told him how she too
had found her rainbow gold. Its gleam had led her through storms and
lonely journeyings, but she had followed, and she had found it at last,
found it in the new light of hope that had awakened in many dull eyes
in Willow Lane.
They were silent then, there was no more to be said. For the story of
each had been the story of the journey that ended in their meeting.
Henceforth, for them, there would be one gleam, and they would follow
it together.
They had been slipping past the shadow of Wanda Island and now came out
once more into the gold of the sunlight. Algonquin lay before them
buried in purpling woods. Away above the little town, beyond the
circling forest, and beyond the hills shone the last gleam of the day.
The _Inverness_ was going straight up the track of the Sun.