LYNDON'S LANDING.
All the fairy crowds
Of islands that together lie
As quietly as spots of sky
Among the evening clouds.
--Unknown.
Bluebell had begun to feel herself in a false position. Freddy's lessons
were, of course, a farce; and Cecil now seemed never to care to practise
with her. Miss Prosody, with every hour of the day marked out for herself
and pupils, made sarcastic reflections on her want of occupation; but,
unhappy though she was, she could not make up her mind to leave the
Rollestons, and thus dissever the chief link with Bertie. Besides, she
had heard (a piece of information derived from Fleda) that he was shortly
expected to join them at Rice Lake. Therefore, when Mrs. Rolleston
unfolded the project of sending her to England to cultivate the musical
predilections of Evelyn Leighton, Bluebell showed such repugnance to the
scheme, that Mrs. Rolleston did not press it further; and, though
surprised, being personally indifferent, soon dismissed it from her
thoughts, with an inward comment that girls never knew their own minds
a month together.
Cecil, however, marvelled at her mother's want of penetration and could
not refrain from increased coolness to Bluebell.
White horses were curling the broad waters of Ontario, as the huge
river-steamer "St. Michael" was getting up the steam for its run to
Quebec; and, from the crowd on the wharf waiting to embark, it might be
surmised that even the sofas in the saloon would be at a premium for
sleeping berths. The Rollestons were surrounded with acquaintances,
either going themselves or seeing others off, till the bell rang, when
there was a rush to the tug, and the big paddle-wheels got in motion.
The children ran up and down the long, narrow saloon on to the decks at
each end, while Miss Prosody was vainly trying to wrest the key of a
sleeping-berth from the purser, who, the supply not being equal to the
demand, was having rather a hot time of it.
"Two double cabins," cried Colonel Rolleston, presently; "the rest must
have berths in the ladies' cabin, and trouble enough to secure that.
However, here are the keys. How shall we divide?"
"Shall Estelle and Lola sleep in the wide lower berth of one cabin, and I
in the upper?" said Cecil.
"And we must take Freddy, I suppose?" said Mrs. Rolleston; "and Miss
Prosody, Bluebell, and Fleda, go to the ladies' cabin."
"Oh, Cecil!" cried Lola, as they unlocked their domicile off the saloon,
"what a little--little bed! If you turn, you'll tumble into ours; and how
will you get up? Won't I catch your foot!"
"No bath!" exclaimed Estelle; "only two small basins! And what a
looking-glass! it makes one squint!"
"It is better than the ladies' cabin," said Fleda, dolefully, "with the
stewardess sitting there, and two or three sick-looking people, and the
berths all open like the shelves of a bookcase."
"It is only for one night," said Cecil. "We land at Cobourg to-morrow
afternoon. Look! the waiters are laying the long tables for luncheon, or
dinner I suppose it is. Come out on the deck till it is ready. Oh, dear!
there is not a patch of shade left for us. How they over-crowd these
boats!"
"There's a gentleman holding his umbrella over Bluebell," said Lola.
Cecil's eyes opened in some amazement. She would have thought it rather
impertinent in a stranger offering such familiar accommodation, but
Bluebell availed herself of it with the frankest _nonchalance_, and, in
the conversation that ensued, lost her place in the first rush of diners,
who, at the ringing of the bell, instantly occupied every vacant chair.
"They seem to be having a very good time," observed Fleda, who had picked
up some Americanisms.
Somewhat aghast at his daughter's precocity, the Colonel stepped out on
the deck, and, with grave dignity, offered Bluebell his arm to conduct
her to his seat, which, quite unconscious of his disapprobation, she
accepted with civil indifference.
And the young subaltern lit a cigar to console himself for the withdrawal
of the clear blue eyes that looked so deep under the shadow of the
umbrella, and tried to find as much piquancy in the "funny book" he had
recently purchased at the St. Michael's book-stall, while the good ship
went ploughing on, past wooden villages, brown houses picked out with
white, and perhaps here and there a little orange-frocked child giving a
characteristic dash of colour.
Then, as the sun sank lower, the most gorgeous hues came into the sky.
But, while every one was on deck gazing on its almost tropical vividness,
a film stole between, a shivering dampness pervaded the air, and soon a
dense fog drove the chagrined passengers back into the saloon.
The captain went to his bridge, and the tea-bell rang soon after. People
were beginning to talk sociably to their neighbours, and a mild hilarity
reigned, when a violent concussion, followed by a sudden cessation of the
paddles, caused a general rush from the table.
Bluebell, in the act of receiving the second supply of coffee, was
aroused from her immediate bewilderment by a scalding _douche_ down her
neck--the waiter, a young German with heart disease painted on his livid
lips and pasty complexion, having held the coffee-pot suspended
topsy-turvy for an instant, and then fallen in a fit on the floor.
All the men had crowded on deck, and it soon became known that they had
run into a log raft, which, though no lives were lost had been nearly
swamped, and much injured by the collision. The "St. Michael," too, had
received a bulge, which rendered a little tinkering at the first port
desirable.
The first alarm of the passengers being lulled, and the panic having
subsided into the excitement of a danger passed, public interest became
concentrated on the young waiter, who still lay in a death like swoon,
till, eventually resuscitated by means of one of the numerous little
brandy-flasks that popped out from sympathetic female bags, he was borne
off by his napkin flapping fraternity to their crystal cave of tumblers.
Little sleep did Cecil get on her narrow perch that night, for her
sisters, in their dreams, were ever in a sinking ship, or struggling
in the foam-driven rapids. Even her heart beat quicker when the
paddle-wheels suddenly ceased, and ominous voices, indistinctly heard,
appeared in agonized consultation. A familiar sound of knocking and
hammering, however, suggested that they must have put into port for the
repairs determined on; and, grasping her scanty complement of bed-clothes
that were slipping to the floor, Cecil conveyed the re-assuring
intelligence to her sisters, and they composed themselves to sleep at
last.
Another day's progress down the beautiful river,--narrow enough at
intervals to see both shores, the Stars and Stripes in American villages,
as well as the Union Jack in those of the "Dominion," as it is now
called,--and then they entered among the thousand islands of the great
St. Lawrence.
Everybody was on deck watching their changing shapes, some apparently all
rock, and others a bower of greenery, and admiring the skilful steering
of the large vessel among them. Soon after noon the first rapid was shot,
a bubbling, seething whirlpool, with clouds of white foam beaten up by
the jagged teeth of the sunken rocks.
Winding in and out among the islands till late in the afternoon, they
reached their port, and repaired to the hotel, to pursue the rest of
their journey by land.
A ricketty waggon--not an English hay-cart, but a spidery trap, with high
wheels, so called--and a dilapidated buggy were placed at their disposal.
Two children and the old nurse remained to follow in the coach, and the
advance guard started, after an anxious consultation as to whether the
wheel of the buggy could be trusted to revolve the twelve miles without
dislocation.
The corduroy roads were in their usual inefficient state,--whole planks
had disappeared in places, and were loose in others,--so locomotion
became a series of jolts and bumps. The drivers wished to save two miles
by crossing a river, and spoke confidently of a bridge, which, on
arriving at, proved to be only some pieces of timber cast wholesale into
it, some of them negligently nailed together.
Mrs. Rolleston, who was not of an adventurous nature, though much
advanced in that direction since her residence in Canada, wished to
return, and go round; but four miles lost was too serious a
consideration; so she shut her eyes, clutched her husband, and prayed
audibly, as the driver, with a screech of encouragement to his cattle,
after a few struggles and flounders, landed the waggon on the opposite
side.
But Miss Prosody declared that the wheel of the buggy would certainly be
torn off in the attempt, and, losing her usual prudery in terror, whipped
off her stockings, and proceeded to wade, to the exposure of a very
attenuated pair of calves.
Freddy and Lola hung upon Cecil, powerless with laughter, comparing her
to the thin-legged aquatic birds in the Zoo; but the Colonel, with rather
a suspicious guffaw, rushed to her aid, relieving her from her hose, and,
as she afterwards recollected in deep confusion, a pair of knitted
garters.
The buggy bumped over somehow, and they got _en route_ again, the road
winding through woods golden in the setting sun. Occasionally a raccoon,
playing about the trunks of trees, beguiled the loneliness of the way; or
a strange bird, with harsh note, but gay plumage, flashed across their
track. Colonel Rolleston, however, was not so much entranced as his
children at discovering that the road stopped at the hotel on the lake,
not coming within half-a-mile of his new property, and that they must
embark and cross over in boats to Lyndon's Landing, as it was called,
after the former occupants.
The evening was calm, and the sunset dyed their sail redly as it
floated the barque lazily across the slumbering lake to their port at
the bottom of a sloping lawn. The path, winding up hill, led them to a
sylvan-looking lodge, where, instead of a bell, hung a hunting-horn.
Cecil executed a sonorous blast, but dropped it hastily, it being
answered almost simultaneously by an ancient menial left in charge. Their
own servants were coming on by coach, and they were much comforted by
perceiving that this provident person had prepared a substantial repast,
combining supper and tea, in a small, snug room.
The young people rushed about on a tour of inspection, and found plenty
to satisfy their curiosity. The hall, to begin with was filled with
trophies of the chase--antlers of moose, stuffed aquatic birds, Indian
spears, and strange carving. A long, low, narrow room opened on it, in
which were chairs of the weirdest description, fashioned out of boughs of
the forest nailed together almost in their natural shapes. The late owner
was a man of eccentric and various accomplishments, and his handiwork
appeared in every detail of the house.
Pictures from his brush were on the walls; of the lake in every
mood--stormy and slumbering, golden sunsets, and tempest-torn clouds, a
canoe stealing through the rice, a flight of wild ducks overhead, and one
swirling down to the gun of its occupant; again, the lake frozen over,
and a sleighing party careering upon it.
There was a screen of his carving, and two or three couches, the latter
more comfortable than the rest of the furniture, being covered with moose
and seal skins. Other skins were stretched on the floor. The table-legs,
like the chairs, were made of fantastic branches of wood, having rather
the effect of antlers when visible under the embroidered cloths, probably
the production of the squaws in the Indian village. Mr. Lyndon was the
architect of the villa itself, and his whimsical fancy came out in every
detail. Long, rambling passages squandered space, while queer-shaped
rooms appeared up and down steps, and in unexpected places and corners,
as if squeezed in by an afterthought, yet the humblest commanded a pretty
view. Many of the ceilings were decorated with Cupids, Mermaids, and
Dryads carelessly painted in, apparently the resource of wet afternoons.
Colonel Rolleston's voice summoned them from these attractive rooms to
supper, and certainly the _menu_ was varied enough to suit all tastes.
Prairie-hens and snipe were flanked with Indian corn, salsify, maple
sugar, and cocoa-nut cakes; tea at one end, and a disipated-looking
bottle of "old rye" at the other. But hasty justice was done to this
repast by Lola and Freddy, who were dying to go down to the landing, and
witness the disembarkation of their sisters, and introduce them to their
discoveries; so soon as the boat was descried, they flew down with
Colonel Rolleston, waving a flag hastily caught up in the hall.
Mrs. Rolleston and Cecil went to arrange the distribution of bed-rooms,
the latter choosing for herself a queer little triangular nook in a
gable. Perhaps she perceived that a room of less modest proportions would
inevitably have to be shared with Bluebell. It might have been a
watchtower from the extent of its view, which swept the lake up to the
Indian village.
The children below were full of the stories the boatman had told them.
That black island there was called "Long Island," and the other, with
scarcely any trees, "Spate" or "Spirit Island," because it was the
burying-ground of the Indians. Another was "Sheepback," from its shape,
and full of poisoned ivy, which, if accidentally touched, infected the
blood, and caused swelling like erysipelas.
The younger ones, with Cecil and Bluebell, were too restless to stay
in the lamp-lit room they had supped in, but wandered about, finally
settling in the long drawing-room, where they could watch from the
windows the moon silvering the lake, and the antlered furniture throwing
strange shadows on the floor.
Then Bluebell sang the "Lorelei," and Cecil invented legends for the
lake, till, their rooms being at last prepared, the old nurse swooped
down on her charges, and bore them away from the domain of Undines to
that of Nod.
Colonel Rolleston had soon exhausted the resources of his new purchase,
and duck-shooting having not yet begun, he went down to Quebec, taking
Cecil with him, for an excursion up the Saguenay. She was rather
unwilling to go, for, though the elders got tired of a place without
roads, she was perfectly content to be all day long in her canoe,
fishing, sketching, reading, or picnicing with the children on the
island. But perhaps her strongest reason for not wishing to absent
herself was the continual expectation of Du Meresq's appearance.
They had had no tidings of him since they had settled at the lake; but
nearly all Bertie's advents were sudden and without warning. From her
nook in the gable she commanded the hotel landing, and few boats left it
without being reconnoitred through Cecil's binocular.
But then the Colonel wanted a companion, and was convinced it would be
delightful for Cecil; so she prepared to go with well-assumed expressions
of pleasure, devoutly hoping that no such _contretemps_ as Bertie wasting
any days of his leave by coming in her absence might befall.
To be sure, as she was in correspondence with him, nothing, apparently,
was easier than to mention her intended trip, which, of course, would
prevent his choosing that time to come to the lake; but it happened that
Cecil had written last, and since a certain fatal speech, which even now
maddened her to remember, she had been very particularly careful to let
him make all the running. Still, not wishing to be left in the dark
should he arrive during her absence, she said, carelessly,--"I hope,
mamma, you will write now and then, and let us know how you are getting
on in this dear little place."
"Really," returned Mrs. Rolleston, smiling, no _arrière pensée_ having
struck her,--"I more depend on hearing from you. Bluebell can write her
fishing experiences, and how often they have tea on the islands; but all
I expect to do is to travel over a good deal of my point-lace flounce
before you return."
While Cecil went away to put on her travelling dress, as sometimes
happens, the true bearing of the speech flashed on her; and when her
step-daughter returned, arrayed _en voyageuse_, Mrs. Rolleston
considerately remarked,--"How dull I shall be without you! I think I'll
write to Bertie;" and the quick, grateful glance of intelligence in
Cecil's eyes encouraged her to say much more in that letter than she
would otherwise have done.