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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/26768-8.txt b/26768-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2f9cb30 --- /dev/null +++ b/26768-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,10860 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Ringfield, by Susie Frances Harrison + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Ringfield + A Novel + +Author: Susie Frances Harrison + +Release Date: October 3, 2008 [EBook #26768] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RINGFIELD *** + + + + +Produced by Al Haines + + + + + + + + + + +RINGFIELD + +A NOVEL + + +BY + +S. F. HARRISON, + +"SERANUS" + + +[Transcriber's note: Author's full name is Susie Frances Harrison] + + +AUTHOR OF "THE FOREST OF BOURG-MARIE," "PINE, ROSE AND FLEURE DE LIS," +"CROWDED OUT, AND OTHER SKETCHES," "THE CANADIAN BIRTHDAY BOOK," ETC. + + + + + +TORONTO + +THE MUSSON BOOK COMPANY, LIMITED + +1914 + + + + +CONTENTS + + + CHAPTER I + THE HOLY WATERS + + CHAPTER II + THE WHITE PEACOCK + + CHAPTER III + THE MAN IN THE CHAIR + + CHAPTER IV + THE HOUSE OF CLAIRVILLE + + CHAPTER V + THE UNSEEN HAND + + CHAPTER VI + THE MISSIONARY + + CHAPTER VII + THE OXFORD MAN + + CHAPTER VIII + THE "PIC" + + CHAPTER IX + PAULINE + + CHAPTER X + THE PICNIC + + CHAPTER XI + "ANGEEL" + + CHAPTER XII + THE HEART OF POUSSETTE + + CHAPTER XIII + A SICK SEIGNEUR + + CHAPTER XIV + FATHER RIELLE + + CHAPTER XV + THE STORM + + CHAPTER XVI + IN THE BARN + + CHAPTER XVII + REVELRY BY NIGHT + + CHAPTER XVIII + A CONCERT DE LUXE + + CHAPTER XIX + REHABILITATION + + CHAPTER XX + A RURAL AUTOCRAT + + CHAPTER XXI + THE NATURAL MAN + + CHAPTER XXII + THE TROUSSEAU OF PAULINE + + CHAPTER XXIII + THE SEIGNEUR PASSES + + CHAPTER XXIV + RELAPSE + + CHAPTER XXV + THE TROUSSEAU AGAIN + + CHAPTER XXVI + THE GLISSADE + + CHAPTER XXVII + THE CARPET BAG + + CHAPTER XXVIII + THE HAVEN + + CHAPTER XXIX + THE WILL OF GOD + + CHAPTER XXX + THE QUEST OF HAPPINESS + + + + +CHAPTER I + +THE HOLY WATERS + + "...... the sounding cataract + Haunted me like a passion." + + +In a country of cascades, a land of magnificent waterfalls, that watery +hemisphere which holds Niagara and reveals to those who care to travel +so far north the unhackneyed splendours of the Labrador, the noble fall +of St. Ignace, though only second or third in size, must ever rank +first in all that makes for majestic and perfect beauty. + +It is not alone the wondrous sweep and curve of tumbling brown water +that descends by three horseshoe ledges to a swirl of sparkling spray. +It is not alone the great volume of the dark river above sent over, +thrust down, nor the height from which the olive is hurled to the white +below. So, too, plunge and sweep other falls--the Grand Loup in +Terrebonne, the Petit Loup in Joliette, the Pleureuse, the Grand +Lorette, the Tuque, the big and little Shawenigan, the half-dozen or so +"Chaudière," the Montmorenci or La Vache, but none of these can equal +the St. Ignace in point of dignified, unspoilt approach and picturesque +surroundings. For a mile above the cataract the river runs, an inky +ribbon, between banks of amazing solitariness; no clearing is there, no +sign of human habitation, hardly any vestige of animal life. The trees +stand thick along the edges, are thick towards the high rocky +table-land that lies on either side; it is, in short, a river flowing +through a forest. And when it drops, it drops to meet the same +impassable wooded banks; it is now a cataract in a forest. Rocks are +turbulently heaped upon one hand; upon the other, the three great +ledges meet the shock of the descending waters and define the leap by +boldly curved thick masses of olive, topaz, and greenish jelly. Where +it is brown, it is nearest the rocky bed; where olive, more water is +going over; and where green, it is so solid that twice a yard measure +alone will penetrate the reach of rock beneath. The white of its +flowing spray is whiter than the summer cloud, and the dark green of +the pines framing it, shows often black against the summer blue. Its +voice--roar as of wind or steady thunder--calling always--has silenced +other voices. Birds do not build, nor squirrels climb too near that +deep reverberating note, although the blue heron, fearless, frequently +stands in summer on the spray-washed rock and seems to listen. Below +the filmy smoke of rainbowed arches there is quiet black water, with +circles, oily, ominous, moving stealthily along, and below these--a +quarter of a mile down--the rapids, swift, impetuous, flashing, +ushering in the latter half of the St. Ignace, here at last the river +of life and motion, bearing stout booms of great chained logs, with +grassy clearings and little settlements at each side, curving into +lilied bays, or breaking musically upon yellow beaches, a River of Life +indeed, and no longer a river of Death and Negation! + +For in the countryside, the _paroisse_ of Juchereau de St. Ignace, the +upper part or inky ribbon of the river was frequently called by that +gloomy name; a Saguenay in miniature, icy cold, black, solitary, +silent, River of Death, who shall live in sight of your blackness? Who +may sing aloud at his toil, whether he dig, or plant, or plough, or +trap, or fish? Beautiful though the grand sweep and headlong rush of +the fall, the people of the settlement avoid its sombre majesty and +farms were none and smaller clearings few along the upper St. Ignace. +A quarter of a mile back from the fall lay the village, holding a +cluster of poor houses, a shop or two, a blacksmith's forge, a large +and well-conducted summer hotel patronized for the fishing, a sawmill, +depending for power on the Rivière Bois Clair, a brighter, gayer stream +than the St. Ignace, and lastly a magnificent stone church capable of +containing 1500 people, with a Presbytère attached and quarters for +some Recollet brothers. + +Such was and is still, doubtless, with a few modifications, the hamlet +of St. Ignace, fair type of the primitive Lower Canadian settlement, +dominated by the church, its twin spires recalling the towers of Notre +Dame, its tin roof shining like silver, the abode of contented +ignorance and pious conservatism, the home of those who are best +described as a patient peasantry earning a monotonous but steady +livelihood, far removed from all understanding of society or the State +as a whole. With each other, with Nature, and with the Church they had +to do--and thought it enough to keep the peace with all three. + +Yet change was in the air, destiny or fate inevitable. The moving on +process or progressive spirit was about to infect the obscure, remote, +ignorant, contented little _paroisse_ of Juchereau de St. Ignace when +one April morning there stood upon the edge of rock nearest the great +fall, still partly frozen into stiff angular masses, two men of +entirely different aspects, tastes, and habits, yet both strongly +agreed upon one essential point, the importance of religion, and, more +particularly, the kind of religion practised and set forth by the +Methodist Church. + +The elder was Monsieur Amable Poussette, owner of the sawmill at Bois +Clair and proprietor of the summer hotel, a French Canadian by birth +and descent and in appearance, but in clothes, opinions, and religious +belief a curious medley of American and Canadian standards. +Notwithstanding the variety of his occupations, one of which was +supposed to debar him from joining the Methodist Church, he was an +ardent member of that community. The younger man was a Methodist +preacher, working as yet on the missionary circuit, and to him M. +Poussette was holding forth with round black eyes rolling at the +landscape and with gestures inimitably French. + +"See, now," he was saying, standing perilously near the wet edge of +rock, "there is no difficult thing! I own the ground. I give the +money. I have it to give. My friend Romeo Desnoyers, of Three Rivers, +he shall come at this place, at this point, and build the church. It +will be for a great convenience, a great success. My guests, they will +attend. I myself will see to that. I shall drive them over." + +The younger man smiled faintly. It was necessary at times to restrain +M. Poussette. He pulled him back now, but gently, from the slippery +rock. + +"In the summer--yes, of course, I see that. I see that it is needed +then. The rest of the year----" + +"The rest of the year! Bigosh--_excusez_,--I tell you, it is needed +_all_ the year round. Look at that big ugly barn full of bad +pictures--yes, sir, I went to Mass regular, when I was a boy--_petit +garçon_--well, every one was the same, sure. But now, ah!--excuse +_me_. A seegar? Yes? You will thry one?" + +The minister declined, but M. Poussette lit one of a large and +overfragrant variety, while he frowned at the fall, rolled his large +eyes around again and finally led the way through thick underbrush and +across fallen logs to the deeply-rutted highroad where a horse and +_caleche_ awaited them. The prospective church builder took a long +last look and then said:-- + +"And you--you shall preach the first sermon. How long does it take to +build nice church, nice pretty Methodist church--not like that big +stone barn I used to go to Mass in?" + +At this the Reverend Joshua Ringfield did more than smile. He threw +back his fine head and laughed heartily. + +"Oh--Poussette!" he cried; "you're the funniest fellow, the funniest +man alive! Ask somebody else how long it takes to build any kind of +church--how should I know! But if you're in earnest, and I admire you +for it if you are, and I wish there were more like you, I'll come and +do the preaching with pleasure. You'll require a bigger man than I am, +I'm afraid though." + +"No, no," pronounced Poussette with fierce and friendly emphasis, +driving away at a reckless pace. "See now, this is it. This is my +affair. It will be my church, and my friend, Mister Romeo Desnoyers of +Three Rivers, shall build it. Bigosh--_excusez_; I'll have only +friends in it; you're my friend, I am good Methodist since I hear you +preach, and Goddam,--well, _excusez_ again, sir, I'll have you and no +other. We'll say July, and you will have one, two, three months to get +the sermon ready. Get on there, _m'rch donc, animal-l-l_! I am too +long away from my business." + +Ringfield, who was right in supposing that his friend and patron had +tasted of the "viskey blanc" before starting, refrained from any +criticism of the scheme, promising his services merely, should they be +required, and that evening saw him depart for the west to attend a +course of lectures at a theological college. Before many hours the +tumbling, foaming Fall, the lonely river, the Bois Clair settlement and +Poussette were almost forgotten. A camping trip with friendly +Ontarians succeeded the lectures, then ensued a fortnight of hard +reading and preparation for the essay or thesis which his Church +demanded from him as token of his standing and progress, he being as +yet a probationer, and thus the summer passed by until on the 6th of +August a letter reached him from the Lower Province bidding him attend +at the opening services of the new Methodist church recently built at +St. Ignace through the enterprise and liberality of M. Amable +Poussette. The letter, in Canadian French, had an English postscript; +"I pay all expense. Me, Amable Poussette, of Juchereau de St. Ignace." + +Ringfield put the letter away with a frown. He was busy, in demand, +ambitious. Born in one of the Maritime Provinces, he owed all he was +to Ontario, and now--Ontario claimed him. Return he might some day to +the rapid rivers, the lonely hills, the great forests and the remote +villages, but not now. Now, just as he was beginning to fill his +place, to feel his power, to live and work, and above all preach, a man +among men, a man for men, he resented any interruption in his plan of +existence, in his scheme of self-consecration. The big bustling cities +of Western Ontario and of the State of Ohio, where some of his holidays +had been spent, were very far away from the hamlet of Juchereau de St. +Ignace, a mere handful of souls--yes, Souls, and here Ringfield stopped +and reconsidered. After all, there was his word, and Poussette, though +rough, was not a bad fellow. It would take, say, three or four days +out of his last week of recreation, but still, he was engaged, +earnestly and sincerely engaged in the work of bringing souls to +Christ, and, no small thing, his expenses would be paid. The better +counsel, as it seemed, prevailed, and he went east the next night. + +Meanwhile the energetic Poussette, mill owner of Bois Clair, rich man +and patron of the countryside, had put his plan into execution, and in +the space of three months a tract of rocky ground on the north side of +the Fall had been cleared and a neat, convenient church erected from +the native woods, furnished with benches, a table and chair for the +minister, and a harmonium. St. Ignace was quite excited, for the thing +seemed pure imbecility to the French, who were to a man true Catholics, +but Poussette stoutly asserted his belief that before long conversions +to Methodism would be numerous and for the present there were his +"guests," a couple of families from Beaulac, the foreman of the +mill--_voilà un congrégation très distingué_! Much, too, would depend +upon the choice of a preacher, and Poussette was cherishing the hope +that some inducement might be held out to retain Ringfield in their +midst. + +Of this the younger man was at first ignorant. Impatience at detention +in such a place warred with strict conceptions of duty, yet his +excellent training in subservience to his Church and a ready gift of +oratory assisted him in a decision to do the best he could for the new +_paroisse_, heretofore so distinctively Catholic, of Juchereau de St. +Ignace. That M. Poussette's congregation was more _distingué_ than +numerous did not for a moment affect the preacher on the warm, rainy +Sunday when he stood within sound of the great Fall and read from the +forty-seventh chapter of the Prophet Ezekiel. Romeo Desnoyers, thin, +keen, professional looking; Poussette and his wife, the latter an +anaemic, slightly demented person who spoke no English; Mr. Patrick +Maccartie, foreman of the mill, who likewise was ignorant of English, +despite his name, and the Methodist contingent from Beaulac were +planted along the front seats at markedly wide intervals, for Poussette +had erected his church on a most generous scale. Summer visitors of +all denominations trickled in out of the moist forest arcades, so that +when Ringfield rose to conduct the service he was facing seventy or +eighty people, far more than he or the architect had expected to see, +although doubtless inferior in numbers to the great throngs existing in +the imagination of M. Poussette. + +The opening hymn and prayer over, the young man took his Bible and read +in natural colloquial tones but with considerable emphasis as follows:-- + +"Afterward he brought me again unto the door of the house; and, behold, +waters issued out from under the threshold of the house eastward: for +the fore-front of the house stood towards the east, and the waters came +down from under, from the right side of the house, at the south side of +the altar". + +A slight pause was here made by the reader and caused a rustling in the +porch to be the more distinctly heard, as a late comer, a lady, +evidently afraid of the weather because of cloak and veil, moved to a +seat near the door and sat down. The reader, seeing only a female +figure merge itself in the congregation, resumed. + +"Then brought he me out of the way of the gate northward, and led me +about the way without unto the outer gate by the way that looketh +eastward; and behold, there ran out waters on the right side." + +Again there was that slight pause, and again, too, a rustling as of +silken feminine garments. Ringfield caught Poussette's eye, but it was +somewhat vacant; evidently the analogy of the picture was lost upon him. + +"And when the man that had the line in his hand went forth eastward, he +measured a thousand cubits and he brought me through the waters; the +waters were to the ankles. Again he measured a thousand, and brought +me through the waters; the waters were to the knees. Again he measured +a thousand, and brought me through; the waters were to the loins. +Afterward he measured a thousand; and it was a River that I could not +pass over: for the waters were risen, waters to swim in, a River that +could not be passed over. And he said unto me, Son of man, hast thou +seen this? Then he brought me, and caused me to return to the brink of +the river." + +With the climactic force and aptness of the description his voice had +grown louder till it completely filled the building. His fine head +erect, his steady passionless blue-gray eyes fastened more on the dark +sopping cedars outside the window than upon the people in front, his +large but as yet undeveloped frame denoting strength, vigour, rude +health--all testified to his unsullied manhood, to the perfection of +sane mind in pure body which it was his highest joy and duty to retain. + +There is an asceticism among Methodists of his class which does not +differ greatly from that enforced by other religious orders. Thus +Ringfield, handsome, healthy, with pulsing vitality, active senses and +strong magnetic personality, was consecrated to preaching and to what +was called "leading souls to Christ" as much as any severe, +wedded-to-silence, befrocked and tonsured priest. And over and beyond +this self-consecration there was the pleasure involved in fulfilling +his mission, and herein perhaps he differed from the conventional and +perfunctory Roman. The sound of his own voice, the knowledge that he +was bound to interest, to convince, even to convert, the very attitude +in which he stood, with chest inflated, head thrown back, hand +uplifted, all these things delighted him, communicated to his lively +sentient side many delightful and varying sensations. As the _prima +donna_ among women so is the popular preacher among men. + +"Now, when I had returned, behold, at the bank of the river were very +many trees on the one side and on the other. Then said he unto me, ... +everything that liveth, which moveth, whithersoever the rivers shall +come, shall live; and there shall be a very great multitude of fish, +... And it shall come to pass, that the fishers shall stand upon it +... they shall be a place to spread forth nets: their fish shall be +according to their kinds, exceeding many.... And by the river, upon +the bank ... shall grow all trees for meat, whose leaves shall not +fade, ... because their waters they issued out of the sanctuary; and +the fruit thereof shall be for meat, and the leaf thereof for a +medicine." + +This concluded the customary reading of a portion of Scripture, but +when the second hymn had been sung and the preacher began his sermon he +asked the congregation to let their minds revert for a moment to that +Vision of the Holy Waters which he was about to take as a text. Yet, +although throughout the sometimes flowery, sometimes didactic, but +always eloquent address which followed, more than one present looked +for a reference to the landscape outside, so markedly similar to that +pictured by the prophet, nothing of the kind occurred. The four +thousand years of religious growth, the spread of Gospel knowledge and +counsel, the healing qualities of the Stream of Salvation flowing down +the ages through a dark world of sin and affliction, the medicine for +the soul of man and the spiritual food for his spiritual nature--these +were the thoughts so warmly sketched and the lessons so skilfully drawn +from the passage in question. + +At the conclusion of the service, Ringfield was moving out quietly +behind the others, with that sense of slight collapse upon him which +frequently follows oratorical efforts, when Poussette and the +architect, Desnoyers, turned back and shook hands with him. + +Madame Poussette, standing irresolutely near the door, weak, +vacant-eyed, badly dressed, was staring at another woman, the veiled +and cloaked figure who had rustled in during the reading of Scripture, +but the veil was lifted now and the cloak hanging over her arm. The +face and form were undoubtedly those of a most attractive, youthful and +well-dressed person, in fine, a lady, and Ringfield at once recollected +her presence in the congregation. So mutual was their recognition, +that, accustomed to being sought in this manner, he was about to +inquire if she wished to speak with him, when Poussette came between +them, taking his wife's arm, and the opportunity was lost. In a few +moments they were driving along the road to Bois Clair, and the young +minister, looking back, could discern no trace of the lady. So little +did he connect her with the remote wildness of the place, so different +did she appear even in a moment's glimpse from the natives and visitors +alike, who had made up the morning assembly, that he did not ask M. +Poussette for any information. As for the latter, no achievement had +ever put him into such good humour with himself as the building of the +new church; and the Sunday dinner at which M. Romeo Desnoyers and the +Rev. Joshua Ringfield were guests of honour, was eaten with the utmost +relish and hilarity. Cabbage soup, the French Canadian staple; young +Beauport ducks, dressed plentifully with onions; deep pies in earthern +bowls containing jointed chickens and liver cut in shapes; apples and +pears baked in the oven with wine and cream; good butter, better bread, +and indifferent ice cream, _crême d'office_, made up one of the +characteristic meals for which "Poussette's" was famous, and it need +not detract from Ringfield's high mental capacities to state that +having partaken of this typical and satisfying fare, he was compelled, +when he could escape the importunities of his French friends, to walk +away by himself along the muddy highroad for the benefit of his health. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE WHITE PEACOCK + + "Nor shall the aerial powers + Dissolve that beauty--destined to endure + White, radiant, spotless, exquisitely pure, + Thro' all vicissitudes." + + +Rocky slabs and mounds of Laurentian gneiss, forest trees and a young +wood interspersed with mats of juniper constituted the chief scenic +attraction in the vicinity of the Fall, so that it might truly be said, +all roads at St. Ignace lead to the Fall--it was so much more directly +beautiful. But Ringfield from choice walked away from the river and +struck inland by a miry sloppy path which was nevertheless beautiful +too, bordered by splendid ferns, mossy trunks upholding miniature pines +in their rich brown crevices, plants of aromatic teaberry, and at +intervals shallow golden pools where the wild white arum bloomed +alongside the pinkish purple of other water flowers. + +His thoughts were not, however, upon all the lovely detail at his feet, +for just at present he found himself more interesting than the +landscape. A very unusual thing had occurred. Poussette, during the +drive home, had anticipated a more serious proposal on the morrow by +asking him briefly and to the point whether he would remain in the +Province, at St. Ignace in fact, and become pastor of the new church. +The small stipend which in all probability the Methodist Church would +cheerfully pay was to be augmented by Poussette's own gift. Not +content with presenting his favourite denomination with a building out +of debt and ready for use, he proposed also to equip it with a pastor +after his own heart, for he combined thoroughness with an impulsive +nature in a manner peculiar to himself. This Poussette was indeed a +character, an original. Very fat and with every indication of becoming +fatter still, fond of tweed suits and white waistcoats, and quick at +picking up English in a locality where the tongue was not prominent, he +owed much of his progressive spirit to the teachings of a certain +French Canadian named Magloire le Caron, born in the county of +Yamachiche but latterly an American citizen. This Magloire or Murray +Carson, as he was known in Topeka, Kansas, had numbered the young +Poussette among his hearers some ten years before when on tour in his +native country in the interests of a Socialistic order. The exodus of +French Canadians to the neighbouring "States" is frequently followed by +a change of name, so that, M. Lapierre or St. Pierre becomes Mr. Stone, +M. Dupont Mr. Bridge, M. Leblanc Mr. White, M. Lenoir Mr. Black, Leroy, +King, and so on. + +Poussette was, to his credit, among those who gauged Le Caron's +sentiments fairly correctly, and he had no wish either to leave his +country or to change his name. Succeed he would--and did; make money +above all, but make it just as well in St. Ignace or Bois Clair as in +the States; learn English but not forget French, both were necessary; +become "beeg man," "reech man," but marry and live where his name would +be carried down most easily and quickly. As for his change of +religion, it was a good evening's entertainment to "seet roun," in the +bar and listen to Poussette's illustrated lecture entitled "How I +became a Methodist"; the illustrations being repeated sips of whisky +and water, imitations of different priests and anecdotes of indifferent +preachers. + +Most of this Ringfield was familiar with, but while Poussette as a sort +of accepted "character," a chartered entertainer, was one thing, +Poussette as a patron, importunate, slightly quarrelsome, and +self-willed, was another. For a few months the arrangement might work +well enough, but for the entire winter--he thought of the cold, of the +empty church at service time, of the great snowdrifts lasting for weeks +and weeks, and more than this too, he thought of his plans for +self-improvement, the lectures he would miss, the professors and +learned men he would not meet, the companionship of other students he +must perforce renounce. + +Reflections of this kind were continuing to occupy him when he suddenly +saw through the trees on the right hand the gleam of open water. He +had reached Five Mile Lake or Lac Calvaire, a spot he had heard of in +connexion with fabulous catches of fish, and on the opposite side of +the shining water he also discerned the roof of a large house, painted +red, and somewhat unusual in shape. That is, unusual in the eyes of +the person who saw it, for the steep, sloping roof, the pointed +windows, the stone walls, and painted doors, are everyday objects in +French Canada. The house at Lac Calvaire was a type of the superior +farm-house built in the eighteenth century by thrifty and skilful +fur-traders, manufacturers and lesser seigneurs, differing rather in +appearance and construction from the larger chateaux or manoirs, a few +of which at one time existed along the banks of the St. Laurent, but of +which now only three well-preserved examples survive. As the size of +the original grants of land or seigneuries varied, some eighteen, +twenty and twenty-five miles long by six, eight, twelve miles wide, +others less, certainly few larger, so the lesser properties, accounts +of which are rare among works dealing with the state of society at the +time, varied also. While numerous collections of facts pertaining to +the original fiefs or seigneuries (usually called _cadastres_) exist, +it is not so common to meet with similar attempts to define and +describe the exact position of others in the early colony beside the +seigneurs. The large land-holder figures prominently in colonial +documents, but the rise of the trader, the merchant, the notary, the +teacher, the journalist, is difficult to follow. Very often the +seigneur was also the merchant; to be _grand marchand de Canada_ in the +new colony signified solid pecuniary success. + +As far back as the year 1682 the Sieur de la Chinay _et autres +marchands de Canada_ equipped, it is presumed at their own expense, +several ships, and proceeded to Port Nelson, raiding and burning the +Hudson Bay Post, and carrying away sixteen subjects of His Majesty. +The Sieur de Caen gave his name to the Society of Merchants still +farther back, in 1627. Henry, in 1598, and Francis, in 1540, each +granted letters patent and edicts confirming certain Court favourites +and nobles in possession of the great fur-bearing districts of +Hochelaga, Terres Neuves, and also of "_La Baye du Nord de Canada oui a +été depuis appelle Hudson est comprise_". It is plain that commerce +had as much to do with early colonization as the love of conquest, +ecclesiastical ambition, or the desire on the part of jaded adventurers +and needy nobles for pastures new. From the Sieur de Roberval to the +merchant princes of Montreal is an unbroken line of resolute men of +business enterprise, bearing in mind only that what the French began, +the English, or rather the Scotch, "lifted" with increasing vigour. In +1677 royal permission was given to open mines in Canada in favour of +the Sieur de Lagny. The "Compagnie du Castor de Canada," carried on +what even at this day would be regarded as an immense trade in beaver +skins. "La Manon," wrecked about 1700, carried beaver skins amounting +to 107,000,587 livres. The Sieur Guigne, known as the Farmer of the +Western Domain, paid at one time the sum of 75,000 livres per annum on +account of beavers. + +In lesser degree the same was true of moose skins and of the finer furs +for apparel and ornament, and thus for many a long year honourable +names and well-descended families were found among those who bought and +sold and quarrelled and went to law in the spacious marketplace of Le +Bas Canada, with the wide and only partially known or understood +Atlantic rolling between them and the final court of appeal--His Most +Christian _Matie_ in France. + +Nothing, it is certain, of this was in Ringfield's mind as he looked at +the steep roof and the stone walls of the house at Lac Calvaire. The +dwelling, like the country surrounding it, held little attraction, +still less what is called romance or glamour for him, for his was not a +romantic nature. Yet neither was he dull, and therefore the aspect of +the house moved him, out of curiosity alone, to skirt the banks of the +reed-fringed lake and find a nearer view of what struck him as unusual. +This was not difficult, as the lake was a short oval in shape, and +before he walked five or six hundred yards he came to the low stone +wall or fence which appeared to completely surround the manor and over +which he soon was desultorily leaning. The garden grew in front of him +somewhat fantastically, with irregular beds marked out with white +stones, and directly facing him was a badly hewn, clumsily scooped +fountain half filled with weeds and dirty water. Behind the house were +trim rows of dark poplars, and there appeared to be a long chain of +barns and other farm buildings extending into the very heart of a dense +plantation of pine. As he looked, still leaning on the low wall, the +place kindled into life and activity. Pigeons came from some point +near and settled on the rim of the fountain. From a door at the side +issued an old woman with a dish in her hand, followed by a couple of +dogs and four cats. These all disappeared among the barns. A minute +later a wagon came lazily along the road, driven by a dark-eyed, +habitant-hatted man who turned in at a gate without taking much notice +of the loiterer. Two plump, dark-eyed servant girls and a little boy +came round the corner of the largest barn; they were apparently dressed +in their best, carried prayer-books, and were evidently on their way to +evening service at St. Ignace, in the handsome church designated by the +heretic Poussette as a "big stone barn full of bad pictures". Finally +there emerged upon the scene, proceeding in a deliberate, dainty, +mincing manner along the garden walk, now rapidly drying in a burst of +fierce August sunshine, the most wonderful, the most imposing, yet the +most exquisite and delicate object Ringfield's eyes had ever beheld. +If a moment before he had thought of retracing his steps and turning +away from a house too full of people on a hot Sunday afternoon to +permit of further lingering in its vicinity, now, he found it +impossible to move, fascinated by the beauty of the rare creature +slowly coming towards him. For this was a white peacock, tempted by +the sudden radiance out to take the air. It paused for an instant as +if to consider the effect and stood, displaying a colossal fan of snowy +feathers, tipped with glittering frost-like filaments. Perhaps it +intuitively knew that Ringfield had never seen one of its kind before. +It continued to stand, while he continued to gaze, and two or three +times it shook that resplendent wheel of shining downy plumes, +trembling in each sensitive fibre with pride and glorification in its +beauty. With each shake, there fell upon the ear the tinkle as of some +faint and far-distant fairy bell; it was the friction of the +spear-shaped sparkling tips as they met in air. + +Ringfield thought it the whitest thing he had ever seen. It was like +snow, or sugar, so finely spun and glistening. Then its air of +arrogance captivated him--the creature was so fully aware of its +charms. He spoke to it and the bird came on nonchalantly; then +gracefully executed a wide turn, carrying that shining palpitating tail +with it and walked back to the house. At the same moment he old woman +with the dish reappeared and commenced driving the bird before her. + +"O don't do that!" exclaimed Ringfield, forgetting that probably she +knew no English. "The rain is over for a while. Let it have its walk. +I've never seen one like it before." + +The old woman was smiling as if to encourage him, but he saw directly +that she did not understand him. He was answered however, and by a +voice from the doorway. The lady he had seen that morning at church +was addressing him. Laughing lightly, she came out to the garden and +Ringfield advanced to meet her. Thus they had the bird between them. + +"I am speaking to the Reverend Mr. Ringfield?" said she pleasantly, and +the young man was reassured. This new acquaintance, whether +_châtelaine_ of the curious house or stranger, spoke excellent English. + +"I saw you in church this morning," responded he. So much of a mutual +introduction was easy and necessary; after that, with a dignified +withdrawal of the peacock, conversation naturally turned to the subject +of the morning service. + +"I do not think I can ask you inside," she said presently, "for like +many old houses, particularly those built of stone, ours is cold in +winter and hot or rather close in summer. We might walk toward the +poplar grove there, I should so like to speak to you about that sermon." + +Ringfield assented with a pleased brightness. + +"And what are your conclusions as to the sermon?" he said, when they +were seated in an old and crumbling arbour looking upon the lake. "I +am afraid I did not give myself quite enough time on this important +occasion. Preparation is everything." + +"I do not allude exactly to the sermon, not the devotional part of it. +Sermons are not much in my line. I meant rather the reading you gave, +that wonderful description of the river, the fall, the waters issuing +from under the sanctuary--you see I have remembered the words--the +trees for medicine and healing, even the fish,--why I never thought +there could be anything like that in the Bible! You chose it +purposely, of course?" The young man did not reply for an instant. A +hint of flippancy in the speech of his companion seemed to create a +barrier between them. + +"Purposely! Well, yes, I suppose I did. Purpose, intention, design, +must, should enter into all earnest preaching, and whatever may be the +faults of mine I endeavour at least to be that, to be earnest. But I +am glad you were struck with the parallel; not many in that +congregation would be at all likely to." + +"You might have dwelt more upon that parallel in the sermon. I +expected you would." + +"Well, no, there are canons of good taste, good form, as the world puts +it, in preaching as in other matters. It was sufficient to indicate +the parallel; people could then look up chapter and verse for +themselves. As no doubt you have done." + +"Quite impossible. I do not possess a Bible." + +Ringfield turned a reproachful eye upon her. + +"We are Catholics, you see, or supposed to be. I have a 'Key of +Heaven' and five other devotional works. But I never read them." + +The other was silent. Looking for the first time with serious interest +at the lady whose ease of manner and cultured speech were remarkable +for the place, he perceived that in a moment she had revealed much. +How few people, how few women in particular, would display a spirit of +utter frankness towards a stranger on so important a topic as religious +belief! And how quick she had been to appreciate the literary side at +least of his quotations from Ezekiel! What more was striking or +unusual about her he could not then take time to consider, for people +so recently complete strangers cannot, it is conceded, discuss each +other or a situation as they may after several days or weeks of +intimacy. He was conscious of feeling that in a certain sense he had +met with as clever a brain as his own and with some one in whose +personal history or life story there was an element of romance, of the +unexpected, the unconventional, absolutely foreign to his own +experience of life. He therefore hastened to change the subject. + +"It may be that you have heard. If not, I may tell you that Mr. +Poussette has offered me the new church at St. Ignace. I took this +long walk out here to-day to think it over. I--well, frankly, I hardly +know what to say." + +"In your profession you are not supposed to consult your own wishes, +but rather the general good. Is not that the case?" + +Ringfield smiled, but also shot a look at his companion. + +"I suppose I may put it that I have had a 'call'. A call to the new, +flourishing and highly attractive 'parish,' as our friends the +Anglicans call it, I should say, the 'mission,' of St. Ignace. I am +not speaking satirically, I might do worse." + +"You are considering it, now, this afternoon?" + +He paused for a mere fraction of a moment. "I was." + +"In the meantime, you have another service this evening and I am +detaining you here when you should be on your way back to the Fall and +the village." + +It was true. Ringfield was forgetting the time. + +"Had it not been for the bird--" he began, and from that point the +conversation, at one time strongly personal and introspective, became +ordinary. Ringfield closed the gate behind him, lifted his hat and +turned back along the road without having ascertained the name of the +lady or her condition in life. The service hour arrived, so did the +small but enthusiastic congregation. The rain had entirely ceased and +the air was perceptibly cooler. The preacher had prepared a sermon of +more florid style than the one delivered in the morning, and he +appeared to have the absorbed attention of those who understood the +language, while the French contingent listened respectfully. The +passage of Scripture to be read aloud had been chosen since the +morning, since the afternoon walk in fact, but there was no one present +from the house at Lac Calvaire to hear and understand part of the +thirty-eighth chapter of Job, beginning with the verse, "By what way is +the light parted, which scattereth the east wind upon the earth?" and +ending with the thirteenth verse of the succeeding chapter, "Gavest +thou the goodly wings unto the peacocks?" + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE MAN IN THE CHAIR + + "From out the crumbling ruins of fallen pride + And chambers of transgression, now forlorn." + + +The house at Lac Calvaire was, as stated, a fair specimen of the +dwellings erected in the first half of the eighteenth century by those +Canadians who, living frugally though comfortably, felt that affection +for the soil, for the natural features of the wild but picturesque +country, even for its severe and strenuous climate, which in many cases +prompted them to make homes and found families. In the year 1729, a +Clairville, rich trader in furs and skins, built the house five miles +from the majestic and lonely Fall. This Clairville was the grandson of +a certain François Gaillard, body servant and faithful follower of the +Sieur de Clairville--Antoine-Louis-Onesime--who came to New France in +1664. The nobleman in question led a truly chequered life in the gay +garrisons of the new world, varied by a couple of voyages to the gayer +Court he had left behind, but through all the reckless episodes of his +long and stirring career, François was by his side, patient, adroit, +silent when necessary, at other times a madcap for freak and fantasy. +Faith of a gentleman--François Gaillard was everything his noble master +should have been, and that master too often such as the poorest lackey +might have been ashamed to be, yet--faith of a gentleman--De Clairville +atoned for much ere he died. François, his foster-brother, received at +his master's death a gift of land under the Crown to him and his heirs +for ever, the name Gaillard to be abandoned for that of Clairville. In +1684 the Sieur de Clairville died; François survived him twenty years, +leaving one son and two daughters. These became _Clairvilles_; there +were no De Clairvilles. The son prospered, as did _his_ son, another +François, who built the strong stone farm-house and planted the poplars +and laid the foundation of a well-known name, respected and quoted far +and near in the community. Both house and family seemed to bear +charmed lives. Canada was lost to France and in that losing many fine +manor-houses and farms were destroyed, but Clairville and Clairville +Manor went untouched. For this, the peculiar situation of the house, +so far back from the Fall, its existence almost undreamt of by English +soldiery, ignorant of the country, was, of course, responsible. A +Clairville went to France at the close of the Revolution, made himself +useful and remained in some post under the Government. Another went up +to Quebec, became a sound lawyer, and batonnier of his district. Both +of these individuals, however, died unmarried, and the next owner of +the manor neither distinguished himself nor contributed to the glory of +his line. That glory, such as it was, for the ignoble François was the +founder of it, gradually departed. The Clairvilles deteriorated, sold +off large parcels of their land, married undesirable persons, till, in +the present generation, the culmination of domestic ruin seemed +probable. For the Clairville now inhabiting the manor was not only +reduced in purse and delicate in health but suspiciously weak in +intellect. + +When Ringfield woke on the Monday following his inaugural service, the +sun was shining brightly into his room at Poussette's, and it is a fact +that in his mind he saw a picture of a dazzling fan of foamy white +feathers waving proudly in that sunlight. It really was the bird and +not the lady that intercepted other and more pertinent reflections +having to do with his future movements. He loitered about all morning, +fished, lunched with his guide, made a pencil sketch of the Fall, and +then about three o'clock in the afternoon walked out to Lac Calvaire. +He neared the house; at first he saw no one, it was the middle-day +siesta. No peacock was visible, no lady. Then he saw a face at a +window and it stared at him. Ringfield, taken by surprise, returned +the stare. To the stare succeeded a weak smile, then a beckoning +finger, then an insistent tapping. The window was closed, with a +roughly crocheted curtain half-drawn back on a string. The young man +had no cause to hesitate, for he knew nothing of what lay inside the +house. He was also a clergyman, which means much. It means, if you +rightly understand your office, that you must be always ready to go +anywhere, to do anything, that may be of the smallest benefit to your +fellow-man. It means, that because of that high office, there is +nothing really beneath your attention, too insignificant for your +study, and yet you are so far above the rest of mankind, the mere lay +portion of the world, that, like a God in courage and in calm, you may +indeed enter where Angel and Devil alike fear to tread. At least, that +is the old and orthodox conception of the clerical profession, and +although it might be sometimes foolishly and conceitedly pushed to +extremes by other men, there was nothing in Ringfield of the mere fussy +moralist and pulpit egoist. After all, as he entered the house and, +guided by the voice of its owner, found his way to the room looking on +the dusty country road, he saw nothing very terrible, only a thinnish, +fair, middle-aged man, wearing a black skull-cap and clad in a faded +and greasy but rather handsome theatrical-looking dressing-gown and +seated in a worn arm-chair. As for the room itself, he suppressed an +exclamation of mingled surprise and impatient remonstrance, for, +although of large proportions and not badly lighted, it was so littered +with books, papers, maps, and pamphlets, so overgrown with piles of +dusty blue-books, reports, dictionaries and works of reference, thick +and antiquated, thin and modern, local and foreign, standing on end, on +tables, on the mantel-shelf, extending into the old-fashioned cupboards +minus doors, taking up a ragged sofa, a couple of arm-chairs, and a +dilapidated _armoire_, and even the greater portion of a bed, that +almost every gleam of sunlight was obscured, and upon this warm damp +August afternoon the air was heavy and close with a suggestion of +staler odours still. + +"I saw you yesterday," said the man in the chair, "from this window, +but you did not see me, eh? You were greatly interested in the bird." + +He paused, and a weak smile changed to a haughty air, accompanied by a +flourish of the hand. + +"It is without doubt rare, a great curiosity. But there have been +white peacocks at Clairville a long time, many years, many years." + +"Clairville! That is your name, the name of the young lady, the name +of this place?" + +"Of this house. Also the estate. This house is, or should be, the +Manoir of the Clairvilles, of the _De_ Clairvilles. You are some kind +of clergyman?" + +"I am. I am a Methodist." + +"Have you read much?" + +Ringfield, looking around somewhat whimsically at so many books, on a +pile of which he was obliged to sit, felt unusual ignorance. He was +probably in the presence of some famous scholar. + +"Not much. Not anything like what you must have read if you have even +gone through a quarter of all these!" + +"Ah!" + +The strange man, savant, scientist, bibliophile, whatever he was, drew +his dirty dressing-gown around him with another flourish of complacent +self-admiration. + +"I am--you are quite right, Mr. Clergyman--a great reader. I have read +every book in this room two, three, many times over. You +were--surprised--to see all this book, all this document, all this +pamphlette--here, at this place, eh?" + +Ringfield, as yet only partly guessing at the peculiarities of his +host, assented politely. + +"My name is Ringfield," he said, noting for the first time the strong +broken accent of the other and his use of French idiom. "I am a +Methodist minister, spending some time at St. Ignace, and yesterday I +encountered a lady, who, I believe, lives here. At least, I----" + +The other cut him short. + +"Ringfield? That is your name? _Anneau, champ_--no the other way, +Champanneau. We have not this name with us. Yet, I do not know, it +may be a good name." + +The young man was superior to the slighting tone because he belonged to +the class which lives by work, and which has not traced or kept track +of its genealogy. He was so far removed from aristocratic tendencies, +ideas of caste, traditions of birth, that he scarcely apprehended the +importance of such subjects in the mind of anyone. + +"The English name, Champney," continued the man in the chair, "you know +that--might derive from it, might derive. But I am not so well +acquainted with the English names as with the French. You _comprenez +pour quoi, sans doute_. I am derive--myself, from a great French name, +a great family." + +The satisfaction with which he repeated this oracular statement +continued to amuse Ringfield, a son of the people, his friends of the +people, but it did not amuse the third person who heard it, the lady +who, advancing into the dark stuffy room, received a pleased glance +from the minister and a half-fearful, half-defiant scowl from the man +in the chair. + +"Henry!" exclaimed she, with great volubility and a kind of fierce +disgust, "how is this? What can you mean by so disobeying me? This is +no place to bring strangers! Nor do I want strangers brought into any +part of this house at any time of the day! It is suffocating here. Do +you not find it very heavy, very close in here?" she added, to +Ringfield, who had risen and slightly changed countenance as she +pronounced the word "stranger". + +He looked from the lady to the man in the chair in astonishment, for he +saw the former in a new and painful light. So dark was the frown upon +her usually serene countenance, so angry the light in her fine hazel +eyes, so anxious and perturbed her entire being, that she appeared +almost ugly. Not only so, but added to impatience and anger there +seemed something like repugnance, disgust, directed at the miserable +pedant who under the fires of womanly wrath blinked and smiled, but had +no defence ready. + +"It is altogether my fault that I am here," said Ringfield quietly; "I +took another walk in this direction, hoping for a sight of the peacock." + +"And you saw something else instead! Ah!--there is much I must explain +to you, you who come among us not knowing, not understanding. You see +only the outside. But I suppose I must tell you who we are. This is +my brother, my only brother, in fact my only living relative, Henry +Clairville. I am Miss--Mademoiselle Clairville." + +Ringfield bowed to her and to the man in the chair. + +"We are the last of what--of what it pleases him to call our Line. It +is all most foolish, most absurd. But I cannot tell you here. Since +chance has brought you our way again, and as you may take up your +residence in the neighbourhood--have you decided yet?--I feel I must +make some explanation of how you find us, my brother and myself. Can +you row? or paddle?" + +Her manner, gradually changing and growing easier every moment, made it +easy for Ringfield, who answered her with a smile. + +"Of course." + +"I asked, because some clergymen are so useless in some directions +while good enough in others." + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE HOUSE OF CLAIRVILLE + + "High instincts, before which our mortal nature + Did tremble like a guilty thing surprised." + + +The hall through which they passed was sufficiently dark to prevent the +masculine eye of Ringfield noting that long and systematic neglect +marked every inch of the wall, every foot of flooring, every window, +door, stair, sill and sash. Nothing was clean, nothing was orderly, +and as the books and papers contained in the invalid's room had +overflowed into the halls, lying on the steps and propped up on chairs +and in corners, the dirt and confusion was indescribable. Hideous +wallpapers were peeling off the damp and cracking wall, tattered shreds +showing, by the accumulation on their fly-specked yellow edges of thick +dust, how long they had waved upon the close air of this uncared-for +house. All the woodwork was rough and horrid to the touch by reason of +the millions of similar fly-specks; had nothing ever been washed here? +Cats were alarmingly abundant. Three lay about in the hall; four were +stretched on the grass in front of the door, and Ringfield saw two +more--so large and brown and with such huge tigers' heads, prowling +under the trees, that he scarcely took them for cats. The chain of +barns, farm-buildings and sheds was all in the same dilapidated, dirty +condition, and it was hardly strange that the vision of that white +loveliness--the peacock--which had tempted him in this direction, +crossed his mind as they proceeded to the landing-place. And yet the +Clairvilles were not without servants. Mademoiselle, having regained a +measure of her wonted serenity, began to describe her retainers, +proving that servants were almost as numerous as cats in that +neighbourhood. The elderly woman, the man, the two girls and the boy, +were all one family, and living "about" as their mistress carelessly +put it, in the barns and out-buildings, divided the work among them. +The woman's husband, Xavier Archambault, employed at the Fall as +assistant to look after the bridge and dam, helped at odd moments in +the business of the estate, thus making in all six servants, a rather +large contingent for a dwindling concern; and Ringfield, listening to +these wonders, could not fail to observe that their united wages must +reach a high figure. + +"Oh--they are not paid!" exclaimed mademoiselle, "at least, not in +money. My brother, who is, as I was going to tell you, a person of +stronger character than you might imagine, has never paid a cent of +wages to anyone in his life. He has managed to infect all his +work-people, and, indeed, many in the village, with his own belief that +it is an honour to labour for him and his, he being a De Clairville and +the highest in rank in this part of the country. Of course you, having +lived in the West, and knowing so much of the world, must see how +foolish this is, how it involves us--my brother and myself--in many +unpleasant and difficult situations." + +A note of challenge in her voice led Ringfield, who had taken off his +coat and was paddling, to stop sharply and observe her. + +"Pray be careful!" she cried in sudden alarm. "When I was at home all +the time I could stand any kind of behaviour in a canoe, but lately I +seem to be losing my nerve. I suppose you _must_ kneel?" + +"Certainly. Much the easier, therefore the safer way." + +"Therefore! All easy things--safe?" + +He was clumsy at this kind of refined innuendo, and considered before +replying. + +"No, perhaps not. But I give you my word not to disturb the +equilibrium again." + +The lake, a basin of clear water, small as Lower Canadian lakes go, and +framed with thick foliage reaching to the edge, was absolutely silent, +absolutely deserted, on this warm afternoon. Ringfield found it almost +too hot to talk, but his companion seemed to enjoy the unburdening of +various confidences, and as she had such a willing listener she had +every opportunity, of taking her own time, and of delivering herself in +her own way, of a remarkable tale. + +That, within two days of his enforced sojourn at St. Ignace, the young +preacher found himself thus--floating on a silent desolate lake in one +of the remotest parishes of Quebec, listening to a family history of +mediaeval import from the lips of a woman, young too, cultivated, +self-possessed to the degree of hauteur, whose Christian name was as +yet unknown to him, was in itself remarkable. + +Ringfield, ardent, gifted, good, inherited directness of aim, purity of +ideals, and narrowness of vision, from the simple working stock from +which he had sprung, and it would have been easy for a man of the world +to foresee the limitations existing in such a nature. When +mademoiselle therefore began the Clairville history by relating some +circumstances in the flighty career of the Sieur De Clairville, hinting +at certain deflections and ridiculing uncertain promises of +reformation, of reparation--for even the seventeenth century had its +cant--the matter was far from being either real or relevant to her +listener. What had he to do with a bundle of old-world memoirs, even +when edited and brought up to date by an interesting woman! What to +him was the spotless character of the ignoble François, son of a +butcher, created a Clairville for his plebeian virtues, or the lives of +each succeeding descendant of François, growing always a little richer, +a little more polished, till in time the wheel turned and the change +came in the fortunes of the house which culminated in the present! All +these were mere abstractions, dull excerpts from some period of remote +and unfamiliar history, because that system which gave him his secular +education did not include knowledge of his country from an historical +standpoint. + +Macaulay and Alison, Gibbon and Grote, Motley and Bancroft--but not yet +Garneau or Parkman. The lady might have romanced indeed, with glib +falseness gilding picturesque invention, and he would not have detected +it. + +As it was, the truth remained sufficiently high coloured. He listened, +he apprehended, but he could not see that it mattered. + +"So now," remarked mademoiselle, trailing her large firm white hand +through the water and knitting her firm black brows still closer, "I +have brought the story up to the appearance on the scene of my brother, +whom you have met, no doubt pondered over, perhaps shrunk from." + +"No, no!" cried Ringfield. "You mistake. I was conscious only of +having no right to enter." + +"Ah--I could see, I could see. Poor Henry! He is the victim of many +delusions. One--that he is a great invalid and cannot leave his room, +that room you saw him in to-day. Another--that we are properly De +Clairvilles, but that we have somehow lost the prefix, the 'De,' in +course of years, and that a Bill may have to pass in Parliament to +permit us using it legally. There has been already in this antiquated +province a case very similar to ours, but it was a genuine case, which +ours is not. My brother owns the largest collection of old French and +old French-Canadian memoirs and books in the country, I believe, and it +may be that out of constant poring over them has come this ruling +passion, this dominant idea, to prove himself a seigneur, and more, a +noble, _grand seigneur de France_! Voilà! but I forget, Mr. Ringfield +hardly speaks French, and I--hate the sound of it, only it crops out +sometimes." + +"But why--and you--how do _you_ speak such good English? I have been +wondering over that much more than over the case of your brother." + +Ringfield, as he asked the question, stopped paddling and sat down +cautiously opposite his companion. Her dark brows clouded even more +and the warm colouring of her face went white; she again resembled the +fury who had lectured the unfortunate pedant in the arm-chair. + +"I knew you would ask that. Every one does. I suppose it is to be +expected. Well then, my mother was English and I was educated at a +mixed school, ladies' school at Sorel, not a convent. I was quick at +the language--_voilà_!" + +"Perhaps it was rude in me to ask. I believe I am deficient in +manners; my friends often tell me so. But you spoke such _good_ +English; better far than mine." + +"That would not be difficult. You have the accent strange to me, that +of the West. Then I have studied for the stage, in fact, and now I +suppose I shall frighten you altogether and make you upset the canoe +when I tell you that I am _on_ the stage." + +It only needed some such declaration to convince Ringfield that, still +floating on this silent, desolate lake he was indeed removed from all +his usual convictions, prejudices and preferences. What had he to do +with the stage! To the Methodist of his day the Stage was deliberately +ignored in the study of social conditions. It was too evil to be +redeemed. Its case was hopeless. Then let it alone and let us pretend +it does not exist. This in effect was his actual state of mind. + +"I have never been to the theatre," he said simply. "They say that at +some future day we, as Methodists, may have to take up the question of +amusements and consider the theatre seriously. It may be that we shall +have to face other facts--the craving in this age of people, especially +our young people, for greater liberty of thought, and I suppose, +corresponding liberty of action. But so far these questions have not +come very much before me, and I must plead entire ignorance of all +matters connected with the profession to which you belong." + +Mademoiselle Clairville's brow was now completely serene; a laugh was +on her lips and a smile in her eyes as she listened to the staid +phrases of her new friend. + +"You and your young people!" she cried. "How old are you yourself, +pray? Twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty--no, hardly twenty-seven. You +may tell me your age quite frankly, for I will tell you mine. I am +twenty-nine. Do you not think that I look much younger?" + +He was in truth a good deal surprised, for to his age--twenty-six, as +she had correctly guessed--twenty-nine seems old for a woman. + +Before he could frame a clumsy allusion to her youthful appearance she +had continued with a change of manner:-- + +"But sometimes I look older, yes, old enough. Tell me, you who preach +your English sermons, so long, so much longer than our Catholic ones, +about trees and rivers and _fish_--do you never preach too about men +and women and their faults and vices and tempers? Ah! there, _Monsieur +le p'tit curé_, you should know that I am a good subject for a sermon, +I and my temper! For I have a temper. Oh, yes, indeed I have." + +There being no instinct--at least not as yet developed--of gallantry in +Ringfield's composition, he did not seek to weakly deny her +self-imputed charge. Had he not already seen a proof of the truth of +it in her treatment of Henry Clairville? Was there not even now a +curious malicious gleam in her dark eye, a frown upon her forehead, a +kind of puckered and contemptuous smile upon her lips? Handsome and +probably clever, even good she might be, and yet remain--unamiable. + +"I am afraid you have not had a happy life," said he, very gently, and +the simplicity and kindness of his manner smote upon her stormy +countenance, so that it melted and all the ugly hardness and latent +shrewishness died away. + +"I have not, I have not!" she cried. "You see my situation here, my +surroundings. Henry, my poor unfortunate brother; the old house, which +might be so comfortable, falling to pieces for lack of money to keep it +up; these terrible people, the Archambaults, pretending to work, but +living on me and eating up everything on the place; the village, with +none in it to know or speak to that I care about; the lonely country +all around, cold in winter, hot in summer; the conviction that Henry +will get worse; the fear of--the fear of----." She stopped. + +"The fear of what?" said Ringfield quietly. "You need have no fear +whatever of anything. You are one of God's children. Perfect love +casteth out fear. Dear Miss Clairville, so recently a stranger, but +rapidly becoming so well known to me, never mind about sermons and +conversions. Never mind about Catholic or Protestant, bond or free, +English Church or Methodist. Just think of one thing. Just cling to +one thought. You are in God's hands. He will not try you too far." +Very impressively he repeated this, bending forward till he could look +into her troubled eyes. "I believe, and you must believe too, that in +His infinite goodness He will not try you too far." + +A shiver passed over her frame. She lowered her eyes, her mouth +twitched once or twice, then she remained silent and passive while +Ringfield, thinking he had said enough, resumed his paddling. It was +some minutes before conversation recommenced and then Mademoiselle +Clairville requested him to return. + +"Do not think," said she, "that I am offended at your preaching to me," +and now a mild sadness had succeeded to her wilder mood, "but one of +the servants is signalling to me from the shore; my brother probably is +in need of me. You will come to see us, to see me again, and I shall +hope to hear that you will remain at St. Ignace for the winter at +least. Here is one patient of the soul, and we may soon find another." + +"If it would make any difference to you,----" he began, still without +any trace of innuendo or latent gallantry, but she interrupted him with +some flashing out of former merriment:-- + +"How could it, when I am away nearly all the time or try to be? I am +now, like you, considering an offer, and may say adieu to St. Ignace, +the Fall, and Henry, any day. But even if I go, some fascination will +draw me back. It always does." + +As he left her at her own gate the face at the window was still +blinking at them. Dimly the ardent young Methodist began to discern +some contingencies in life of which he had never dreamed. And how +admirably he had perjured himself in the interview! Had he not +forgotten the particular sect to which he belonged? Had he not +besought his hearer to forget whether she was Catholic or Protestant? +Had he not, in short, for the first time in his ministerial experience, +fulfilled the plain duty of a true Christian without stopping to think +of ways and means and artifices? Looking back, he was amazed to +remember how earnest he had been and how sudden but genuine was his +sympathy with this lonely woman. Apprehensive for her safety and +content of mind, stimulated as he had never been before by her frank, +original presence, he mentally resolved to remain at St. Ignace for her +sake, or if her protracted absence ensued, as she hoped, to manage to +return when she did. + +He had arrived at this decision when, on drawing near Poussette's, he +perceived that individual himself in little straw hat and large white +apron standing at the door engaged in critically examining an enormous +catch of fish--black bass and lunge, just brought in by the guides. +Ringfield asked the time, for he began to realize how long he had been +absent. It was nearly seven o'clock and the evening meal was over. + +Poussette at first tried to be angry. He declared that there was +nothing left. Ringfield smiled and strode to the fish lying in +glittering silver heaps on the grass. He lifted up the biggest bass +and carried it into the house, and the coolness of the deed appeased +Poussette. + +"That is all right, Mr. Ringfield," said he, slapping him quite +affectionately on the back. "You shall have a good tea, a good tea, +after which you shall hear what we have to say. Mister Desnoyers, +Patrick, myself, all wait for you and all shall be arrange, eh? Every +one round come in, come in and drink _bon santé_ in something good I +got on Saturday. Ah--you shall see, you shall see!" + +As Ringfield went in to his "good tea" Madame Poussette came out. +Rather to his astonishment, she sang to herself in passing, and +although her sad vacant eyes were not bent on him, he felt as if the +words were intended for his ear. What were those words? + +His knowledge of French was limited, but still he could make out a kind +of rhyming refrain-- + + "Derrière + Chez mon père + Il-y-avait un grand oiseau." + + +He stopped and tried to catch more as Madame went down the walk singing +low to herself. + + "Derrière + Chez mon père + Il-y-avait un grand oiseau. + la, la, la, la-- + C'était beau ça, c'était beau." + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE UNSEEN HAND + + "The procession of our Fate, howe'er + Sad or disturbed, is ordered by a Being + Of infinite benevolence and power." + + +Had Ringfield continued his conversation with the _châtelaine_ of +Clairville he would in all probability have asked a few questions about +her theatrical career, placing it in his imagination in one of the +large American centres to which in the seventies or eighties all +Canadian artists gravitated. In this he would have been wrong. + +In a back street in the purely French quarter of Montreal stood a +pillared and placarded building once known as the home of an ambitious +coterie, the _Cercle Littéraire_, which met fortnightly to discuss in +rapid incisive Canadian French such topics as "Our National +Literature," "The Destiny of Canada," and "The Dramatists of France," +from which all _politique_ was supposed to be eliminated. The building +had originally been a house and private bank belonging to a courtly +descendant of an old family, a De Lotbinière, who grew French walnut +and cherry trees, lettuces and herbs in the back garden. When the +banker died the _Cercle Littéraire_ bought the house for a small sum, +comparatively, seeing that it was built of good grey stone, had many +bright green shutters and an imposing façade of four pillars, and from +one part of it issued once a month the extremely high-class +journal--organ of the society--called "Le Flambeau," the other part +which comprised a fair-sized hall, retiring rooms, and secretary's +office and quarters, being altered to suit the needs of the _Cercle +Littéraire_. But in time the glories of the exclusive and classically +minded coterie faded, its leading spirits died or disappeared, the +superior monthly organ--torch for all the country--burnt itself out, +lost subscribers--in fact the whole business was declared insolvent, +and the nervous, gifted, but too sanguine editor-in-chief (there were +three editors), M. Anselme-Ferdinande Placide De Lery, _avocat_, and +the devoted, conscientious, but unprogressive secretary, old Amédée +Laframboise, scientific grubber and admirable violinist, had to get out +of Rue St. Dominique as best they could and go back to the law and the +local orchestra. For several years the house was vacant, and then at +last it held a still more gifted, more numerous, and, all things +considered, more successful coterie within its walls than "Le Flambeau" +had been able to procure for it. A certain travelling organization, a +company of good actors and actresses direct from Paris, which had +landed in America the previous year, giving comedies and pretty +domestic pieces in New York and other cities, not meeting with the +success it expected, came to French Canada in the hope of reaping +substantial profits in a congenial atmosphere. Ah--what a mistake was +this! To think that if in Philadelphia or Boston "Le Bourgeois +Gentilhomme" or "La Joie Fait Peur" did not make money, either play +would do so in the Montreal of thirty years ago! It was a mistake, +certainly, from the monetary point of view; on the other hand, many +friends were made, much good feeling and admiration prevailed and, in +short, the company, stranded in a Canadian town, found living cheap and +easily earned, plenty of good fellows--French--and settled down as a +local stock affair, fitting up at no great expense the banker's house +with the walnut-trees and bright green shutters under the name of the +Théâtre des Nouveautés. + +This was the playhouse in which Mlle. Clairville acted. This was the +clever company which, secure in New France from blasé critics, produced +the comedies and tragedies of Molière, Corneille, Dumas, Halévy, Mme. +de Genlis, as well as serving up adaptations like "Le Vieux Oncle Tom," +"Le Prince de Denmarque," "Le Condamné," "L'étranger," also attacking +with superb, delicious confidence the then popular operas of "La Grande +Duchesse," "La Belle Hélène," and "Il Trovatore." What acting it was, +so vigorous, dashing, resourceful! How Mme. d'Estarre jumped easily +from a Précieuse to Eva, and from Gertrude, a dark-eyed _bourgeoise_ +Queen with frizzed hair and train of cotton velvet, to +Camille--wickedest play known at that time! Then when Mlle. +Pauline-Archange-Emma-Louise de Clairville joined the company, what a +Hamlet she made with her fine figure and her remarkably firm, white +hands, what a Phedre, once when the actor was ill, what an "Oncle Tom"! +What a Duchess of Gerolstein later, when the company discovered that it +could sing, collectively at least, and what a Helen, in flowing Greek +costume, fillet of gold braid, and sandals! + +This was indeed Acting--to merge mannerisms, to defy fate and the jeers +of any sober English reporter who strayed into the Theatre of +Novelties! When Mme. d'Estarre found that she had to return to France +unexpectedly, on account of the ill health of her children, left behind +in a provincial town, she was given a grand benefit, and although the +public (who were getting a little tired of madame, she was over fifty) +did not respond as gallantly as might have been expected, the members +of the company with true Gallic chivalry made up the large amount +necessary to carry her across, bring her back and provide in the +interim for the afflicted children. This was Pauline's opportunity; +she naturally succeeded to the position of leading lady, and kept it +until her faults of temper developed and she had the pleasurable +excitement of a fierce quarrel with her manager. Thus, while her +talent was conceded, her stormy temperament prevented her achieving +anything like permanent success, and every few months she would +reappear at St. Ignace, live drearily in the dingy house, lecture the +servants, abuse and weep over her brother, when suddenly tiring of this +she would return and have to begin again at the foot of the ladder. + +Ignorant of these cloudy and strenuous careers, Ringfield saw only an +impulsive and unhappy woman old enough to fascinate him by her unusual +command of language and imperiousness of conduct, and young enough for +warm ripe brunette beauty. To be plain, first love was already working +in him, but he did not recognize its signs and portents; he only knew +that an ardent wish to remain at St. Ignace had suddenly taken the +place of the tolerant and amused disdain with which he had once +considered Poussette's offer. + +A couple of days later he had returned from a long afternoon on the +river when a man around the place named Crabbe came to him with a +letter. Opening it, he found it to contain another offer from a +prominent citizen of Radford, a large and thriving Western town, to +fill a certain pulpit of some distinction during the absence of the +pastor in Europe. The time mentioned was ten months and Ringfield sat +down at once to consider the importance of this offer. He would be at +last in a cultivated community. Much would be expected of him and he +would have every chance to put forth what was best in him. For several +years he had been labouring on the missionary circuit and the work was +hard indeed, with slender results. Here was sufficient remuneration, +comfortable housing in a more sympathetic climate, and the prospect of +receiving a still more important call in the future should he make his +mark. Such considerations, if mundane, need not also be mercenary; +each man is worthy of his hire and his pulse beat in pleased excitement +as he viewed the rosy outlook. + +But--Miss Clairville! A vague foreboding of the truth flitted through +his brain; men wiser in love and affairs of the affections than our +young Methodist minister have been self-deceived, and although he +sternly put her image away he dimly avowed to himself that she was +already occupying far too much of his thought. Here was a clear way +opened, or so he imagined, referring each move as it occurred to the +guidance and knowledge of the Higher Power, and he could find no other +than an affirmative answer to the letter which he kept turning over in +his pocket, and still kept reading through the evening in the general +room. He had excused himself from the already over-convivial group on +the front verandah, and being provided with paper, sat at the table +composing his reply. + +The lineaments of his singularly fine and noble countenance were easily +seen through the window where the guides, M. Desnoyers and Poussette +were sitting, and the vision of the black-coated, serious young scribe +inditing what he had informed them was a very "important" letter, +subdued the incipient revelry. + +Poussette was uneasy. He had not yet received any direct answer from +Ringfield to his own offer, and for many reasons he preferred to attach +and retain him rather than any other "Parson" he had ever encountered. +But Ringfield was wrapped in his own thoughts and quite unconscious of +the highly improving spectacle he made, lifting his eyes only to nod +pleasantly to Mme. Poussette who had glided in and was sitting by the +window. His letters were three: one to Mr. Beddoe who had invited him +to Radford, another to his relatives on the farm at Grand River, and a +third to Miss Clairville. He had not hesitated to write to her, for +short as their intercourse had been, her emotional nature had +manifested itself so warmly and their talk had been so completely out +of the ordinary, that higher things than convention must always govern +their friendship. His conscientious side held itself responsible for a +slightly superfluous act of sudden interest and attachment, and the +mentor's tone in which he pleaded with her, to ask herself whether the +theatre must be her goal, would have deceived anybody unaccustomed to +cold analysis of motives. He gave her, in short, good advice in the +guise of kindly sentiments, ending by avowing himself her "friend in +Christ" and protesting that her true welfare and happiness would always +be of interest to him. + +The letter written, he leant back, resolving not to send it by post but +by some ignorant, unsuspicious hand (therein was the new-found subtlety +and shyness of the true lover), and the change in attitude confused the +watchers outside who guiltily resumed their smoking and conversation. +And the strange, silent woman at the window, supposing Ringfield to be +in want of something--paper, stamp or ink--rose and stood by his side. +Thus she saw two envelopes addressed and ready for the mail, and a +third as yet innocent of any inscription. That she could read English +he doubted, yet he felt an objection to letting her look over his +shoulder. He rose, and going to the office, where Poussette hastily +preceded him, gave in the two letters for Ontario, and then informed +him of his decision. + +The Frenchman's disappointment was genuine and comic, partaking of +tragedy and despair. Desnoyers was called in; also the guests and the +two guides, with servants forming a picturesque and interested +background, so that Ringfield suddenly found himself the centre of an +admiring, friendly, but inclining-to-be quarrelsome crowd. Nothing +occurred, however, to alter his decision, and, true to his idea of +duty, he set off two mornings later, having committed the letter for +Miss Clairville to the man called Crabbe, a slouching sort of +Englishman who occasionally served as guide, ran a small open-air +general store, and about whom there seemed to be some mystery, his +accent and grammar being out of the common. + +Forty-eight hours after, Ringfield arrived at his destination, and +walking up from the train to the house of Mr. Beddoe, the gentleman who +had written to him, was shown into a small parlour to wait a few +minutes. Voices came from across the hall for a while, then he heard a +visitor depart and the next moment Mr. Beddoe himself entered the room. + +The surprise of this individual on perceiving Ringfield was genuine and +complete; his countenance fell and he stood gazing. + +"You did not expect me so soon, I see," said the young man easily. +"Well, I was in rather a quandary, something else having offered, so I +decided quickly, hating indecision. You got my note of acceptance all +right, I hope? It should have reached you _at the latest_ yesterday." + +"Yes, yes," murmured Mr. Beddoe, "but, sit down, Mr. Ringfield, sit +down--the truth is--a rather peculiar thing has occurred. I--ah--I may +as well make you acquainted with it at once. Our pastor, who, without +being mentally weakened to any extent by a troublesome and obstinate +illness, for which, as you know, we have sent him abroad for a trip, +was extremely absent-minded in many little ways, and it has transpired +that before his departure he wrote himself to the Rev. Mr. Steers of +Bradford, arranging with him to take the pulpit for the time he should +be away. He neglected to inform us of the fact, but Mr. Steers came in +just after we had written to you, and as he is a married man with a +family, and as he certainly expected the duty and the remuneration for +a period, I felt that you would have to reconsider our offer. I sent +you a telegram embodying all this." + +"I never got it. Telegraphic facilities are uncertain in that part of +Quebec. For example, St. Ignace is the village, but Bois Clair the +name of the post office, and there is no telegraph at either place. +Montmagny----" + +"That was where we telegraphed," broke in Mr. Beddoe, "but probably +there was some delay in sending on the message and we did not look for +you quite so soon. Mr. Steers has just left; he is a very reasonable +sort of man, and if you think you are bound to keep us to our offer we +will talk it over with him." + +The young man had taken a chair at Mr. Beddoe's invitation, but he +still clutched his florid and somewhat old-fashioned carpet-bag and he +did not make any suggestions. + +"Of course," exclaimed the other, uneasy at the silence, "you will +remain here with us until the matter is settled, and I feel sure a +satisfactory settlement can be made. You spoke of an alternative. +Would that do for Mr. Steers?" + +Ringfield roused himself to say that he did not think it would. + +"It's not the place for a married man," he went on. "There are no +houses such as you are accustomed to up here; the people are mostly +French, the climate is extreme; it is, in short, only a mission, and as +I've just come from there, and understand the place, I think I had +better go back and leave Mr. Steers in possession of the field." + +"Oh! But----" returned Mr. Beddoe, noticing a faint tinge of sarcasm +in the tone of the speaker, "we do not ask you to do this. It's all +most unfortunate! These great distances, so difficult to find a +person--we did our best." + +Ringfield rose; there was clearly no reason why he should remain in +Radford whether he went back to St. Ignace or not, and just then the +condition of his purse was extremely important. This detail was set +right in time, in about two months; meanwhile a visit to his friends in +the country would give him an opportunity to decide as to his future +movements. + +The sojourn on the farm occupied three days, at the end of which he did +what he knew he would do from the moment of meeting Mr. Beddoe. He +bought a ticket for Bois Clair with almost the last money he had in the +world, and within ten days of leaving Poussette's the steamer plying on +the river to St. Ignace deposited him at the familiar rickety wharf +once more. + +It was nine o'clock and dark, with a light rain falling. The +passengers, mostly tourists, were stepping off in that timorous way +peculiar to people unaccustomed to the primitive, by the light of a +lantern waveringly but officially displayed by Crabbe, the surly guide +to whom Ringfield had given his letter, and behind Crabbe, a little +higher up on the bank, stood Poussette, whose costume as usual was +characteristic. He wore a checked tweed suit of light brown, a straw +hat, and an enormous chef's apron tied round his waist under his coat. +Visions of fried bass or lunge, of potatoes _sauté_, and even of hot +pancakes, danced before Ringfield's weary eyes, for he was both tired +and cold, and accordingly he gaily pushed his way through the loiterers +and fresh arrivals until he reached his host. + +"Well, Poussette!" he cried, "I'm to be your man after all, it seems! +They didn't want me in the West, I found, or rather I thought it wiser +to come back and take advantage of your kind offer. I suppose you can +put me up somewhere for to-night, and to-morrow we can talk the matter +over." + +The Frenchman had started violently on seeing Ringfield and a great +change came over his manner. Where was the welcome the minister had +looked for? On this fat, usually smiling countenance he could discern +naught but astonishment, disappointment, anger! + +What could have happened during that futile journey westward and back? +Poussette vouchsafed no reply, no solution. He avoided the puzzled +stare of the other man, and after giving some orders in French to +Crabbe and the other guide, Martin, a very decent Indian, quickly went +up to the house without greeting his guests. + +Ringfield was suddenly seized with a sense of the ludicrous. He told +himself that he managed to be _de trop_ wherever he went, but he also +firmly resolved that no temper, no caprice on his patron's part should +affect him now. If possible he must remain at St. Ignace and ignore +whatever had caused the singular change in Poussette's attitude. There +was indeed fish for supper, but he fancied that the cunning touch of +the chef was wanting, and he was right. Poussette had not entered the +kitchen. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +THE MISSIONARY + + "Nor is it a mean phase of rural life, + And solitude, that they do favour most, + Most frequently call forth and best sustain + These pure sensations." + + +The following day Ringfield's curiosity naturally ran high; he was +entirely in the dark as to the peculiar treatment he had received at +the hands of Poussette, and it followed that one strong idea shut out +others. Miss Clairville's image for the time was obliterated, yet he +remembered to ask Crabbe whether the letter had been safely delivered, +to which the guide replied rather curtly in the affirmative. He +supposed Pauline to be still at the manor-house, but the truth was, on +the receipt of his letter a sudden temper shook her; she wrote at once +to M. Rochelle, her former manager in Montreal, requesting a place in +his company, and the evening that brought Ringfield back to St. Ignace +took her away. + +There were symptoms of thaw stirring in Poussette, and the minister did +his best to encourage them, but on the Saturday afternoon following his +return, when it was necessary to hold some sustained business +conversation with his patron, the latter could not be found. The bar +was a model of Saturday cleanliness, damp and tidy, smelling equally of +lager beer and yellow soap. Fresh lemons and newly-ironed red napkins +adorned the tall glasses ranged in front of Sir John A. Macdonald's +lithograph, and the place was dark and tenantless, save for Plouffe, a +lazy retriever, stretched at the door. The dining-room was abandoned, +the general room was full of children engaged in some merry game, but +otherwise the place wore that air of utter do-nothingness which +characterizes a warm afternoon in the country. Yet Ringfield +persevered and at last heard familiar accents from the "store" across +the road, a kind of shack in which a miscellaneous collection of +groceries, soft drinks, hardware and fishing appliances were presided +over by the man called Crabbe. Ringfield crossed, and found the two +men lolling on chairs; Poussette slightly drunk and Crabbe to all +appearances decidedly so. The place was of the roughest description; +it had no windows but an open space occupied by a board counter on +which were boxes of cigars, bottles, a saucer of matches and the mail, +duly sorted out for the inhabitants by Crabbe, who was supposed to be a +person of some importance and education, and postmaster as well as +guide. As Ringfield paused at this aboriginal place of barter, not far +removed from the rough shelter up the road under the trees where some +Indians held camp and displayed their grass and quill wares on planks +supported by barrels, he was struck by the sight of his own name. +There in front of him lay the missing telegram which Mr. Beddoe had +dispatched to Montmagny nearly a fortnight before. He took the folded +yellow paper up and put it in his pocket--no need to open it there and +then. + +"How long has this been here?" he asked, but Crabbe only moved uneasily +in his chair, reaching sideways in a pretence of arranging boxes +underneath the improvised counter, his hands shaking so that the goods +tumbled out of them. + +Poussette laughed and swore, yet a gleam of good nature seemed to +illumine his puffy face, and Ringfield, catching at this ray of +kindness, hoped he had come at the right moment. + +"Why, Poussette!" he said. "I'm sorry to see you neglecting a good +business like yours in this manner.--Get up, man, and walk along the +road with me. Where is the fun, or glory, or enjoyment of this +muddling and tippling--I am ashamed of you! Come on, I say!" + +But Poussette was hard to move; Crabbe, on the other hand, rose and +shuffled out of doors in the direction of the forest; Ringfield thought +he saw Madame Poussette's skimp skirts behind a tree; presently she +emerged and stood talking to the guide. + +"Come now, Poussette! There's your wife. Don't let her see you like +this. Then there's Father Rielle." + +"Where?" Poussette rose, superstitious fears of the village _curé_ +giving him strength and aiding his resolution. + +"Nowhere at present. But he's coming to tea. The cook told me he was." + +"What cook? I'm the cook!"--with great dignity. + +"No, no. You are cook extraordinary, when you wish it. I mean Frank, +who gets the wood and keeps the fire going, who cooks under you--you +know well enough whom I mean. Now, are you coming?" + +Poussette allowed himself to be hauled out of the shack and presently +he and Ringfield were walking up the road. + +"I've got to get you sober for to-morrow, you see. To-morrow's Sunday +and I want to know about the music. If we are going to introduce our +hymns to St. Ignace, you must help me to find some one to play the +harmonium. Better be a lady. Do you know any one?" + +But Poussette was not following. The mention of the priest had +awakened a flood of memory. + +"Father Rielle--I don't know if I like that one or not. One's enough, +you're enough, Mr. Ringfield. Give Father Rielle a drink and let him +go." + +"I'm not talking about Father Rielle at all just now. I'm talking +about our church and some one to play for us. And look here, +Poussette, this returning of mine wasn't my own doing. I want you to +know this. The man who wrote to me telegraphed afterwards--here's the +message in my pocket--and you see I never got it. I'm here now and we +must make the best of things. That fellow Crabbe mislaid the message +or detained it knowingly, I can't tell which, and I don't like him, +Poussette, I don't like his looks at all. He's a low fellow, always +drunk, and if I were you I wouldn't be seen going about with him. I'm +astonished at you, Poussette, with such a good businesss, two good +businesses, you may say, well-to-do and prosperous as you are, keeping +such a fellow on the premises. For I suppose he rents the shack from +you. Well, I know I wouldn't have him round the place at all." + +Poussette wagged his head in imbecile accord. + +"Low fellow--Crabbe--_marche donc_--get off, _animal_, don' come my +place 'tall." + +"You know I'm talking _right_, Poussette. Get rid of Crabbe. And +sober up now, man; don't let folks see you like this." + +Ringfield put his arm through the other's and led him aside under a +thick canopy of trees as a party of fishermen and Martin came along. + +"Look here--I'll make a pillow for you, here, out of these balsam +twigs! You lie down--that's it--and get a good sound sleep. Got a +cigar? And a light? That's all right. Now, you sleep--yes, don't +bother about the smoke now--just go to sleep and when you wake up, have +your smoke, clear your head, shake yourself and show up at tea-time, +straight and sober as I am! You'd better! Father Rielle's over for +tea. You wouldn't like him to see you like this!" + +Poussette collapsed on the improvised balsam couch, but managed to +remark that he would not get up on account of Father Rielle, nor give +him anything good to eat. + +"Why, I thought you liked him! Liked his good opinion, anyway!" + +"Beeg liar! Beeg rascal! I like you, Mr. Ringfield, when you don' +take away my girl. You leave my bes' girl alone and I like you--first +rate. Bigosh--excuses, I'll just go to sleep--for--while." + +Ringfield rose from the ground and sighed. He earned his livelihood +pretty hard when such scenes came into his life. Pastoral slumming, +one might term it, for he had only just laid Poussette respectably to +rest when he encountered Crabbe, lurching dully along the road, and at +the sight of him Poussette's extraordinary remark about his "best girl" +came back. What possible connexion could have suggested itself to +Poussette between the faded sickly creature he called his wife and the +visitor from Ontario? Ringfield thought it not unlikely that Poussette +was confusing him with Crabbe, for to-day was not the first time he had +seen the woman wandering in the proximity of the shack. However, +Crabbe gave him no opportunity for ministerial argument or reasoning, +for as soon as he perceived the other he turned, and straightening in +his walk very considerably, soon disappeared in the forest. + +Ringfield was thus thrown on his own resources after all, and in +thinking over the question of the Sunday music, not unnaturally was led +to associate Miss Clairville with it. He did not know her to be +exactly musical, but he gathered that she could sing; at all events, +she was the only person he had met in St. Ignace capable of making +arrangements for a decorous and attractive service, and he resolved to +see her and ask for her co-operation. Thus again he was drawn by +inclination and by a steady march of events along the road that led to +Lac Calvaire. Arrived at the _métairie_ he was told of Pauline's +departure for Montreal, and also that Henry Clairville was confined to +his bed by a severe cold. Some new awkwardness led Ringfield over the +threshold; the old Archambault woman who had attended the front door +threw open another on her left hand, and the next moment he found +himself in what must have been once the _salon_ of the family. The +furniture was of faded tapestry; a spinning-wheel, an armoire of dark +mahogany, miniatures, one very old and very ugly oil painting of some +mythological subject, cracked with age, the gilt frame thick with +fly-specks; a suit of Court clothes hung ostentatiously on a common +nail--these were the impressions he received as he sat waiting to hear +whether the Sieur would see him. + +Suddenly he started. The woman had closed the door, the room had been +empty when he entered it and yet--there were three cats in front of his +chair! Where had they come from? The window was closed, how had they +got in? Watching, Ringfield saw what greatly astonished him, for +presently the cats walked towards the door and a miracle appeared to +happen! They not only walked towards it but through it, and he was +ignorant of the apparent cause of the miracle until observing the door +very closely he discovered a little door down at the bottom, a cat door +through which they were in the habit of calmly passing back and forth +at will. Another cat door appeared in the hall where he stood a minute +later before being shown out, for Mr. Clairville would not receive him, +and nothing more impressed him with the idea of being in a strange +house given over to strange people than the knowledge of a system of +little doors cut in the big ones for the use of a dozen cats. + +Once more on the road, Ringfield experienced that sense of frustration +inseparable from first love. He had been so confident of seeing Miss +Clairville once again, and now, as he learned from the servant, it +might be Christmas before she would return, and despite his +resolutions, he knew he should be very lonely indeed, without any +congenial soul in the village, for a period of four months. He roused +himself, however, to think of the morrow's duties, particularly of the +music, and at tea that evening he found the person he wanted through +the kind offices of Father Rielle, who was a very liberal Catholic, +well acquainted with the whole countryside and who could ask, as he +said, in eloquent broken English, nothing better than co-operation in +good works with his young Methodist _confrère_. Poussette was present +at the evening meal, rather pale and subdued and pointing with the +pride of a true _chef_ to the omelettes which were his alone to make by +special dispensation, and after supper Ringfield walked out to the +great Fall, remaining till it was dark and late--so late that he knew +no one would pass that way. Then he knelt on a slab of rock and lifted +up his voice in this wise:-- + +"O Lord," he began, "look down on Thine unworthy servant. Help him and +guide his footsteps aright. He has returned to this place and to this +people. Assist him to preach the truth of the Gospel in the wilderness +and to those who know Thee not. Make him kind and keep him humble. +Give him light and understanding that he may be acceptable in this +place and that he may witness for Thee and for the Gospel, and that his +labours may be blessed and the harvest thereof indeed be great." He +paused, his eyes opening on the white wilderness of the Fall. Knowing +that the roar of its foaming waters would drown his voice he did not +scruple to use his fine, sonorous tones to the full, and went on again: +"Strip from Thy servant, O God Most High, all that savours of self. +Strike at sin if it lodgeth in him; cause him to remember now his +Creator in the days of his youth. Grant him wisdom in dealing with the +froward, and may Thy Holy Spirit descend in this solemn evening hour +and be with him now through the watches of the night and to-morrow when +he rises to plead Thy righteous cause. For Christ's sake, Amen." + +The mixture of the orthodox circuit style with an occasional direct and +colloquial abruptness made this prayer worthy of record, and after +silent meditation under the dark, swaying pine-trees, Ringfield, braced +by temporary abandonment of self, returned to Poussette's. As he rose +from his knees, however, something rolled down several ledges of rock +and he promptly went after it and picked it up. It proved to be a +book, not very large, and opening easily, but there was no light to +view it by, and it was not until he came near the village windows that +he discovered it to be, much to his astonishment, a well-worn copy of +Tennyson's Poems. On the fly-leaf were the initials "E. C. H." and +underneath, the word "Oxford" and date "1873". Ringfield took it up to +his room; some tourist had probably dropped it, and it was safer with +him than with Poussette. But when had an Oxford man passed that way? + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE OXFORD MAN + + "Here Nature was my guide, + The Nature of the dissolute; but Thee, + O fostering Nature! I rejected..." + +Ringfield, now committed to his duty at St. Ignace, was experiencing +that reaction which must always follow upon a sudden change in the +affairs of life when the person concerned has a tendency towards the +reflective. The absence from the manor house of that interesting +personality, Miss Clairville, threw him altogether on the society of +the village, but, apart from Poussette, who had become mysteriously +friendly again, the two individuals most in need of his ministrations +were Mme. Poussette and the shambling guide, Edmund Crabbe, in whom +were the dregs of a being originally more than the preacher's equal. +Old world distinctions would seem to be of small account in such a +hamlet as St. Ignace and yet questions of caste were felt even there. + +Crabbe, the owner of the "Tennyson," was that melancholy wraith of +breeding, a deteriorated gentleman, spoken of in whispers as an "Oxford +man," slouching along the winding country road, more or less in liquor, +with the gait and air of a labourer, yet once known as the youngest son +of a good county family. Few would have recognized in the whiskered +blear-eyed, stumbling creature an educated Englishman of more than +middle-class extraction. In drink an extraordinary thing occurred. He +then became sober, knew himself, and quoted from the classics; when +sober, he was the sullen loafer, the unmannerly cad, and his service as +guide alone redeemed him from starvation and neglect. Ringfield, who +had seen him, as he supposed, drunk on the Saturday afternoon when Miss +Clairville's departure had been made known, concluded to call upon him +at his shack a few days later, and was considerably surprised to find +the place roughly boarded up, while sounds of talking came from a +shanty at the back. The latter was on the plumed edge of an odorous +hemlock wood; squirrels and chipmunks ran, chattering, hither and +thither in quest of food, and a muskrat, sitting on a log near the +water, looked unconcernedly at Ringfield as he stood, hesitating, for a +few seconds. While he thus remained, a boy came along, looked at the +"store" and scudded away; then came a little girl, and, finally, one of +the maidservants from Poussette's. Muttering her annoyance, she too +waited for a while and was on the point of going away, when the door of +the cabin opened, and Crabbe looked out. He held himself erect, he had +shaved, his faded _negligé_ shirt was clean and laced with blue--a +colour that matched his eyes, and his voice had a certain expressive +and even authoritative drawl in it. + +"No supplies to-day, my good people," he said, affecting to suppose +Ringfield a customer. "Call to-morrow, or--ah--the next day. Sorry to +inconvenience you, but I've had to take a few hours off, writing +letters to the Old Country, asking about my remittance and so forth. +So I can't attend to business." + +In these polite if slightly satirical cadences there was the element of +superiority; the woman and the girl faded away, while Ringfield hardly +knew how to proceed. + +"I have come over just for a chat," he finally said, "if you are not +too much engaged. I have a good deal of time on my hands, and I'm +trying to get to know the people around. I am speaking to Mr. Crabbe, +I think?" + +"You are not sure, eh? Want to apologize for calling me a low fellow +to mine host Poussette, I expect! Well, come in and have your chat. +I'm not much in favour of clergymen, but then--you're only a Methodist, +I hear. You don't count." + +He shut the door, after piloting the other in, and led the way into a +sort of dining and living room, in the middle of which was a long, +narrow table covered with white oilcloth, graced by a monster bouquet +of wild-flowers, grasses and ferns at the end; at the other end was a +tumbler and a bottle and Ringfield saw clearly enough that it held +whisky. Yet he did not comprehend that Crabbe was drunk, while the +bold, blue eyes, the erect stature and the loud voice did not make a +single suspicion. Indeed, surprise and pity worked in him a kind of +false modesty. + +"I certainly should never have used that expression. My defence is, +that Poussette, though a good fellow, is rough, and difficult to +impress in English, you understand, especially when he is about +half-tipsy himself!" + +Looking around, the sight of faded photographs of English scenes on the +wall, of a large lithograph of Tennyson and of many well-bound books +and other evidences of refinement, led Ringfield to say, in vague +apology, "If I had known----" + +"Known what?" said Crabbe in loud, dictatorial, dangerous tones, all +shiftiness gone. "That I was a gentleman, eh? Well, gentle is as +gentle does, I suppose, and I've never scored anywhere, so here I am, +here I _am_, Ringfield (bringing his hand down on the table) that's +your name, I believe--and I've not worn so badly all these years. From +Oxford to Manitoba; then robbed and ruined by a shark of a farming +agent, damn him, down here to this wilderness and hole of a Quebec +Province for a change. For keeps, I imagine." + +He went round the table and poured out some whisky, drank it off raw, +and still Ringfield did not understand. He thought this was the sober +phase, the other, the drunken one, and feeling his way, ventured on +general topics. + +"Well, I'm here too by a curious twist of circumstances. I'm a +'varsity' man--Toronto, you know--and might look for something +different from St. Ignace." + +"You're a what?" cried the other. "O Lord!" and a strange kind of rude +contempt filled the rich cadences with which he spoke, so different +from the surly repression of his ordinary tone. + +"O I see!" he drawled presently. "I'm an Oxford man myself--worse +luck--and much good it's done me; hope you've benefited more thereby. +What disgusting rot, Ringfield, filling us up with Horace and Virgil, +and then sending us out to a land like this! I'm the youngest of five; +there was nothing left for me at home, and then there was fuss about a +woman--there always is." + +"Is there?" echoed the other sweetly, determined not to be annoyed. +"Don't lay everything at their door. Our mothers, Crabbe, our +sisters----" + +The Englishman suddenly ran amuck, as it were. + +"In God's name, Ringfield, drop that! I can see you know nothing about +it, nothing about life or women--God, Ringfield, women are the Devil! +If I thought you'd listen and not preach----" + +The other's hand, which had been lifted in horror and deprecation, came +down again. + +"I don't care to listen," he said, "but I can gather your meaning--all +the same! Don't take any more of that vile stuff, you'll make yourself +drunk. Here----" and then, with sudden fury, the preacher grabbed the +bottle, threw it out of the window among the debris of rotting fruit +and rusty cans and faced the Englishman. + +For a moment Crabbe looked, spat, and swore like a fiend; then he +collapsed into his chair, though still gazing at Ringfield with those +full, rolling eyes and that hateful, superior smile. + +"I'll hear anything you have to tell about yourself," continued +Ringfield, "but I won't listen to tales of other people, men or women. +And what's the use of telling me about yourself? That won't do any +good. Put it all back in the past, man; put it all away. Now is your +accepted time, now is your day of salvation, right here, this moment. +But I won't preach to you. I won't vindicate my calling and talk +religion, as you'd call it, in this place and at this hour, because I +see you're not ready. I thought you were sober. Now I see my mistake, +and now, I don't know _how_ to talk to you. I don't know how to begin! +I've never tasted the stuff myself--not even a glass of wine has ever +passed my lips, and my mother, Crabbe, used to make home-made wine and +give it to us--all but me. I wouldn't taste it. If I understood the +fascination of it, if I could follow the process, if I could sympathize +at all with you, then I might appreciate the difficulty and realize the +force of the temptation. But I can't! Other vices, take theft or +treachery, or cowardice, or insubordination; the seed of hatred +suffered to grow till the black Death Flower of Murder be born; +covetousness, sins of temper, all these I understand. And in some +degree those other temptations to which you have alluded." + +A slight wave of colour surged in the young minister's cheeks. Crabbe +was apparently beyond impressing. He sat and whistled, looking wisely +at his nails. The loss of the whisky did not trouble him, for he +remembered where he had a second bottle hidden, and a small quantity +yet remained at the bottom of the tumbler, unnoticed by Ringfield. But +presently he broke out again. + +"As for women," he cried thickly, as if he had not heard the other's +latest speech. "I've had enough of them, too much, as I said before. +You be warned, Ringfield! You keep out of trouble! I wouldn't swear +that I did not take to drink on account of them, and then, look +here--the trouble followed me out to this country, even to St. Ignace, +even to this hut and hole. What d'ye think of that?" + +"Why, who is there here?" exclaimed Ringfield, but as he spoke he had a +vision; the foolish wife of Poussette seemed to come along the path, +chanting as she came some minor French refrain and tapping at the +uncared for window as she passed. She might have been attractive once, +and Crabbe was not a very young man now. Some graces she must have +had; a way of catching at the side of her skirt, suggesting a curtsy; +plenty of fair hair and a child's smile playing at the corners of her +mouth--not so foolish then. But wise or foolish, she had been another +man's wife, unless he had encountered her in her maiden days, which +seemed improbable. + +"I cannot think," went on Ringfield, striving to shut this vision out, +"how women, any woman, plain or fair, sane or mad, could bring herself +to care for you,--and not because,--hear me, Crabbe, you are beyond +caring about. God forbid!--but because your form of vice must ever be +so distasteful to a woman. And then you are all wrong about your +surroundings. You are, you have been, at least, a man of education, +and yet you call this a hut and a hole. It is you who make it so! You +vilify, where you might ennoble. You defile where you should enrich +and keep pure. You are set here, in the midst of the most beautiful +scenes of Nature, scenes that cannot be matched anywhere in the world, +and yet you despise them and use them for your own undoing and that of +others. Nature lies at your door and you are answerable for your +treatment other." + +Crabbe laughed surlily. "She's no business lying--where'd you say--at +my door. Nature, always Nature! Much good it's done me, Nature, and +all that rubbish. I hate it, I hate and abhor it, Ringfield. That's +what makes me drink. Too much Nature's been my ruin. I'd be sober +enough in a big town with lively streets and bustle and riot and row. +I wouldn't drink there. I'd show them the pace, I'd go it myself once +more and be d----d to all this rot and twaddle about Nature! Nature +doesn't care for me. So careful of the type she seems, but so careless +of the single life. She doesn't bother her head about me, or you, or +Henry Clairville or Pauline!" + +He paused, and Ringfield shivered with sudden poignancy of +recollection. What right had this miserable scion of good family, so +fallen from grace, so shaken and so heartless, to call the lady of +Clairville Manor by her Christian name? + +"Or Mme. Poussette!" said the minister hurriedly, but with meaning, as +he pronounced the name, his voice trembling in spite of himself. +"Nature, it is true, does not care for any of us. Nature will let you +starve, get drunk, go mad. Therefore, we need a greater than Nature. +Therefore, having this committed unto us we speak as----" + +"O Mme. Poussette!" interrupted Crabbe, pouring the contents of the +tumbler down his throat. "Shall I get you some? No? Well, I don't +blame you, don't blame you. Mme. Poussette, poor creature! I have +heard she was pretty once. That was before I came, before--God's truth +this, Ringfield--before I taught her husband to drink deep." + +"I might have known!" escaped from the other. "Our own people rarely +drink--like you." + +"He was no innocent! He tippled, tippled. Then I came along and set +up my sign, Edmund Crabbe Hawtree, Esquire; no, we'll drop the last and +stick to E. Crabbe without the Esquire, d----n it! Lord! what a mess +I've made of it, and this rankles, Ringfield. Listen. Over at Argosy +Island there's a slabsided, beastly, canting Methodist Yankee who has a +shop too. Must copy the Britisher, you see. Must emulate--gentleman." + +His sentences were beginning to be less clear now. His head was +falling forward. "Well! then--this fine fellow does well out of _his_ +shop; sets up another down the river and yet another over at Beausoley. +He's made money! He's rich, married, and has a big family. Why don't +I make money, Ringfield, and get away from here? Why don't you make +money and not go about preaching? Eh? So careless of the single life! +Who said that? Whoever said that, knew what--was talking about. I +know what I'm talking about. I'm a gentleman, that's what I am, +Ringfield, and yet I can't make money." + +The wagging head toppled--he fell over on the table. The fire and +youth Ringfield had observed were gone and in their place were the +decrepit tone and the surly animalism which one associated with the +guide. Here, then, thought the young and impressionable minister, is +the living result of two corroding vices; the man is a sot, but +something beside the lust for liquor has helped to make him one. He +has followed after sin in the shape of his neighbour's wife, and +perhaps the latter's decline may be traced to the working of remorse +and the futile longing after a better life. + +As he was thus thinking, the vision of his thought actually flitted +past the window without turning her head. Still with those thin hands +picking at her shabby skirts and with that tremulous smile she emerged +from the wood and Ringfield heard her singing long after the rustling +of the closely arched branches had ceased. Crabbe seemed to be +dropping asleep when Ringfield touched him on the arm and tried again +to reason with him. + +"Tell me, I ask it for your own good and for that of the poor +unfortunate woman who has just gone by, tell me what there is between +you, how far the matter went, how long ago it was. Tell me, and I will +help you perhaps to get away, leave this place and all in it. That +would be the best thing. Come, Crabbe, I'll believe in you if you've +lost belief in yourself. Can I, can anyone, do more than that?" + +The Englishman rallied, passed a hand across his brow, then rose +unsteadily to his feet, looking around the cabin. Habit called for a +drink at this juncture and he saw nothing to drink. Anger awoke in +him; he grew maniacal, dangerous, and the late September shadows filled +the room. + +"What woman do you mean?" he cried. "_In vino veritas_! You thought I +was sober. So I was. Sober enough before you, the preacher, to know +that I'm getting drunk rapidly, beastly drunk too, and being so, and +the gentleman I am, or meant to be, I don't thank you for interference +in my affairs. What woman are you thinking of? What woman passed my +window?" + +"Mme. Poussette." + +The guide's face stared, then broke into unmistakable and contemptuous +laughter. + +"Didn't I tell you I was a gentleman? You've made a big mistake, +Ringfield. Even in my deterioration" (he had difficulty with this +word) "I remember who I am, and I don't go after married women. +Matrimony's one of the Church's sacraments, Ringfield, isn't it? +Perhaps not; I have forgotten. Anyway, Mme. Poussette is the wife of +my best friend, my best friend I tell you, and whoever cares for her +faded hair and finicking ways it isn't I. Sweeter pastures once were +mine. Have I named the lady of my choice or have I not? The gay +Pauline, the witty Pauline, the handsome Pauline! Ah! You admire her +yourself. You wrote her a letter. I gave it to her and we read it +together and laughed at it. 'Yours in Christ.' Ha-ha! We laughed at +it, Ringfield." + +Even in his foolish insults he paused, for an awful expression appeared +for a moment on the other's face. In that moment Ringfield realized +what Miss Clairville had become to him. No one can bear to hear his +love traduced, and he believed that in his cups this villain, Crabbe, +was lying. They faced each other and Ringfield was not the cooler nor +the saner of the two. + +"Pauline! Miss Clairville! What can she be to you? Hanger on of +womanly footsteps," burst from him, scarcely knowing what words formed +in his brain and emptied themselves upon the darkening air of the +cabin. "Stealthy and gloating admirer of her beauty, even the despised +companion and disloyal friend of her brother--all these you may be, but +surely nothing more to her." + +"What I am to her I know well enough and can tell you easily enough. +She's done with me, hates and fears me, won't have anything to do with +me, and yet she belongs to me and I'm not likely to forget it. And I +belong to her. That's another reason why I wouldn't go after Mme. +Poussette." + +"You mean--that she is, that you are--oh! impossible! You mean--what +do you mean? Not that you are married to her?" + +Extreme agony and repulsion gave shrillness to Ringfield's voice. To +have met and loved, to have coveted and dreamed of that warm, imperious +yet womanly presence, and to hear this dreadful truth concerning +her--if it were the truth. + +"Well, you've guessed it. Yes, married to her, by heaven!" said +Crabbe, and he lurched forward and fell. + +Ringfield saw and heard him fall, but he was already out of the shack +and speeding through the forest paths; dim arcades of larch and pine +met over his head while upon the river and the great Fall were stealing +long bars of bright silvery light from the level sun. Soon the silver +would mellow to gold as the daily marvel of the sunset was +accomplished, but Ringfield was beyond such matters now. Nature could +do no more for him in this crisis than it had done for Edmund Crabbe, +and the virginity, the silence and fragrance of the noble wood, brought +him no solace. Yet as he sped he could not choose but breathe and the +air filled his breast and then fed his mind so that presently coming +upon a glade or opening in which was a large slab of grey lichened rock +he lay down at length to think. And that Nature which could do nothing +for him spiritually in this hour of trial conspired to comfort and +restore him physically. He could not pray. His accustomed resources +had failed him; instead, as it grew quite dark around, he fell asleep. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE "PIC" + + "How dreadful the dominion of the impure!" + + +The September days gave place to October ones and still Miss Clairville +remained away. The tourists had departed and Ringfield could judge +more accurately of the mental and moral status of the countryside. The +congregation of Sunday scarcely numbered two score, but Amable +Poussette and wife were always present and the rule seemed to be that +any who had tired of Father Rielle came to Ringfield whether they +understood him or not; poor Catholics were thus in danger of becoming +even worse Methodists, and he exerted all his faculties and talents in +general directions concerning conduct and character. The beautiful +skies and water, the rocks and great Fall, were as impressive as +before, but they no longer filled so much space in the mind of the +young preacher, who now saw all things in the visible universe from the +standpoint and through the jaundiced eye of the disappointed and +unhappy lover. All Nature mocked him and it would go hard indeed with +him should religion, too, fail him in such a juncture, but the spirit +of work and priestly endeavour kept him as yet from sheer wretchedness; +he prayed daily to think less of the world and more of his calling and +it seemed as if the fate which brought him back to St. Ignace to love +and suffer in loving would spare him further, since there was no sign +of Miss Clairville's return. His preaching could not fail, because he +brought to it a fine original gift and an automatic precision and +certainty resulting from the excellent training of his Church, but +between Sundays the time dragged. His labours among the few scattered +and uneducated families of conflicting race and origin seemed +unconvincing and empty, and a new shyness possessed him; he disliked +hearing any mention of the Clairvilles, for Crabbe's story he had come +to accept as true without a word of questioning; indeed, Miss +Clairville's own words came back to him as a proof. + +"Another patient of the soul," she had said. Also, she had referred to +something dark and of sinister import, fatal yet compelling, which +always drew her back from livelier and more congenial places, and, as +he judged, from a sphere of work which paid, to the house at Lac +Calvaire. That the society of her brother was the attraction, +Ringfield could not admit, and what other ties or friends had she? So +far as he could learn--none, and thus he read her story; growing up +unprotected and motherless, without any standard to judge by, she must +have accepted the attentions and fallen under the spell of a man who +probably appealed to her pity and also to her intellect. Crabbe had +been the only man in the neighbourhood capable of understanding her +cultivated allusions; the remnants of the mixed education she had drawn +from the school at Sorel and the pedantic dreary associations of the +manor house. But in the contemplation of such a thing as her marriage +to such a man Ringfield's fancy failed. The whole plan of creation was +altered and blackened. He did not wish to know on what terms Pauline +and this man now met. He tried to shut out all the images such a story +conveyed, and thus he asked no questions nor did he hear any gossip, +proving that the affair was old, and if once known to the country +people, accepted and forgotten. Why could he not treat it in the same +fashion? His faith was not shaken in the sense of belief in a Supreme +Being, but he no longer lived so much for and by his faith; Nature and +God were put back in the past, as he had said to Crabbe, and all his +thought was for the duty of the hour and for the guidance and +sustenance of others. He imagined he had lowered his own dignity by +writing, on the first impulse of desperate first love, the letter which +Crabbe had read with Pauline, and he strove to regain that clerical +calm and judicial bearing that had suffered so violent a shock. But +when six weeks of this repressed existence had sped and autumnal winds +were sweeping down from the glacial north of Terrebonne, bringing cold +rains and occasional snow flurries with them, he felt that he must at +least call at the manor to inquire after Henry Clairville. Little at +any time was heard of the latter except when "Ma'amselle" returned to +her native heath, at which times the Archambaults were whipped into +work and obedience by the forcible tongue and stormy temper of their +mistress. Messages and parcels then passed between the domain and the +village; Father Rielle made his call and the whole village and +_paroisse_ quickened with energy under Pauline's determined sway. +Crabbe--this Ringfield heard from Poussette--was also sent about his +business; he was no longer encouraged to play cards and drink with +Henry, who fared as he might at the hands of the tyrant family swarming +all over the estate. + +On a chilly October day, Ringfield once again traversed the muddy road +leading to Lac Calvaire, his heart sore over the revelation that had +reached him, and he could not repress a painful sigh as he came in +sight of the _métairie_. The lake was dull grey, the maples were +shedding their leaves without painting them red and yellow, and the +pines looked unusually sombre against a pale and cheerless sky. A pair +of kingfishers were flying from side to side of the road, and a forked +object sailing high up in the air proclaimed itself a bird, otherwise +there was no sign of life till, approaching the front of the +_métairie_, he observed the peacock taking its airing in a neglected +garden. + +Nothing had affected the pose and splendour of this radiant creature as +it paraded up and down, gently swaying its lustrous and shimmering +tail; the drooping fortunes of the house were not reflected in its mien +or expression, and it was not until Ringfield was met by four lean cats +prowling about him in evident expectation of food and petting that he +descried unusual neglect in the appearance of house and garden. Three +ugly blotched and snorting pigs ran out from under some bushes and +followed him. He saw no smoke arising, no face at any window, heard no +lively bustle in the farm-yard, no amusing and contentious chatter in +Canadian French from the barns and out-buildings which sheltered the +various members of the Archambault family. A curious feeling rushed +over him and with it a conviction--the place was deserted. He went at +once to the chain of farm buildings and examined them all; all were +empty, with every sign of hurried and agitated flight rather than of +orderly and complacent departure. The horses were gone, the two wagons +and buggy, the buckboard. Traces of fright and apprehension were met +at every step; a dirty hairbrush dropped on the ground; a clock +abandoned on a bench outside the door as if too heavy; tins opened and +rifled of their contents; a tub half full of soiled clothes in foul +water. All these he saw, scarcely taking in their meaning, until +returning to the manor he opened the front door and went in. There in +the usual place he found Henry Clairville, alive, and no more. Still +clad in the greasy dressing-gown and still seated in the tattered +arm-chair, the unfortunate man was clearly very ill. Patches appeared +on his face, which was both pallid and flushed; his neck showed red and +sore and his body hung down limply over the side of the chair. +Evidently he had tried to get to his bed which stood in a corner, and +failed. His eyes were staring and full, yet glassy; sense and +recognition alike were wanting, while the delirious accents which +escaped now and then from his parched lips were altogether in French. +In short, Ringfield, though unaccustomed to disease, knew that the man +before him was very ill, of what did not enter his head, although there +came to his mind a description of the plague in a boy's story-book. He +did what he could, singlehanded, which was to snatch some warm clothing +from the bed, cover up the sufferer so that draughts might not reach +him, fetch water and leave it on the table near the chair and see that +all animals were excluded. He then quickly sought for a secluded spot +near the lake, hung his own clothes about on branches to air, and took +a plunge into the clean, cool water, after which he was ready to return +to St. Ignace and get assistance. + +Dr. Renaud, the village practitioner, drove out at once, taking a woman +with him, who, as soon as she learned she had to deal with the "Pic" +ran screaming from the house, thus clearing up the mystery of the +Archambaults. + +"They knew," said Ringfield, "and I didn't. But I guessed something of +the kind and took the only precaution open to me. I washed in pure +water. And now what are we to do? Has M. Clairville no one belonging +to him but his sister?" + +"Not to my knowledge," said Dr. Renaud, who spoke good English, "and we +do not wish her to return." + +"Certainly not." + +"Then I can only think of one person in the village." + +"A nurse?" + +"Not a professional nurse, but, as I say, the only person I know of +close at hand who can do what is necessary until we get a nurse, if the +man lives to require one. A male nurse would be better, but who is +there here? No. I am thinking of the right one if I can only get her, +if I can only get her?" + +"She lives in the village?" Ringfield was curious; he thought he had +met every one in the village, yet here was some paragon of female +skill, virtue and strength with whom he was not acquainted. + +"You must have met her. Of course you know her. I speak of Mme. +Poussette. Ah! You shall smile and you shall frown, but you shall see +what a miracle she can work! You shall yet envy this sick seigneur. +Madame is noted for her care of the sick and dying. You are surprised? +Yes?" + +"I cannot help it. Anyone would be. She looks so frail, so delicate, +and surely she is also what we call afflicted, peculiar. Is she a fit +and sensible person for a case like this?" + +"Ah! Mon Dieu!" exclaimed the doctor with a slight impatience. "These +afflicted ones, these peculiar ones--they are still capable of +something. Many times have I seen it; the old, old tottering +_grandmère_, the crazy aunt, the bad-tempered husband, even the +inebriate, can find, when they are guided, work which suits and +maintains them. Even when the mind is shaken, if it is only a little, +just a little, to care for others, a bird or a cat, or a sick person, +this will keep the wits steady. A case like this moreover!" repeated +Dr. Renaud, laying his finger to his nose. He was round, jolly, +bow-legged, and brusque, with pronounced features overstrong for his +height, merry eyes, and a red birthmark. "This is the case. We are, +you and I and presently Father Rielle, responsible for M. Clairville. +He must not be moved except to his bed; he is too far gone for more. +The wife of Poussette is, to my knowledge, the only person we can get +to sit here, administer drink and medicine, make him comfortable. +Well, not even she can do that but--you _comprenez_. And she is +capable, I know her well. She is as she is" (and the doctor made the +sign of the Cross), "yet she is worth ten saner women, for she has no +nerves, no fears, no imagination. Tell her what to do, place her here +to do it, and she will not fail; I have seen her a dozen times in the +village nursing sick women and their babies. She's as good as most +doctors and better than most nurses. Yes, yes, we will get madame to +him at once." + +"But she may take it!" + +"I think not. Her body like her mind is purged of all evil humours, +_mon ami_. She is already more than half spirit and waits in peace for +old age and quiet decay." + +Ringfield got into the doctor's buggy in silent surprise. + +"Besides, if she did take it, and it killed her, I cannot see any great +calamity. I will tell you her history. She was well educated at a +good convent near Montreal; her father was a doctor, as I am, but a far +cleverer one. Yes, I lift the _chapeau_ to that one, that old Dr. +Pacquette as regards the great art and science of medicine. But as a +father--ah! God pity him where he is now, according to our belief, in +purgatory for many long years to come. _Bien_! Dr. Pacquette had lost +his wife, and his daughter, a fairy thing, was allowed, even +encouraged, to grow up as she pleases. They have grand friends in +Montreal, her father's people still live on Rue St. Denis, great rich +people; if you go there, drive out over the mountain and you shall see +her old home, the Pacquette Château. Well, this Mme. Poussette when +she is a girl (Natalie-Elmire-Alexandre, I don't give you all her name) +she is very pretty, and the old doctor wish her to make a grand +marriage, and he has every one up to the house and make a big time for +them, and introduce her to all the young men, all the _rich_ young men. +But while she has been at that convent she has met with Amable +Poussette, who was not so stout then, had a good figure and a lively +tongue, and the end is, they are married at Ancien Lorette by a young +priest, who might have known better. Some months after, she goes home +to her father to be taken in and forgiven and nursed, for she has by +this time a young infant about six weeks old. Well, you can perhaps +imagine _le vieux_ Pacquette when it is all explained. He is enraged, +he drives her from his door, she passes all one long, cold night in the +snow outside the _château_ on Cote des Neiges hill and when she is +found by the servants two days later, she is as you see her, monsieur, +and the baby is dead! Never again the bright little Natalie-Elmire, +but instead, a pale, faded, vacant-eyed, timid woman. Ah! If I ever +meet _le vieux_ Pacquette in the next world!" + +The doctor nodded his bald head sagaciously; as for Ringfield, he was +thinking that here was the opportunity for which he unconsciously had +been waiting, to ask for and probably receive Miss Clairville's equally +dramatic story, when he beheld another buggy coming around a corner of +the road driven recklessly by one of the Archambault boys and in the +buggy sat mademoiselle herself. Her attire, always so different from +village modes, was true on this occasion to her theatrical calling, for +to Ringfield's eye at least she appeared like some Oriental personage, +caught and brought home in native garb, coupled with a very bad temper. +Red and black was her habit and black and red her eyes and angry +compressed lips. + +The doctor stood up in his buggy and Miss Clairville in hers, and, as +for a quarter of an hour the excited talk was in rapid French, +Ringfield could only gather that the doctor was endeavouring to +restrain her from going to see her brother. At last, turning away from +Renaud with an imperious wave of the hand, she addressed herself to the +minister in English. + +"I understand it is to you the doctor owes his knowledge of my poor +brother's sickness. I only heard of it myself last night on the stage +at eleven o'clock, but I came at once--look at me in all this sinful +finery, I can see you are calling it! Oh, yes, you are. Well, now +that I have come and thrown up my part and my place in the company in +Montreal, he will not allow me to finish my journey and go on to +Clairville!" + +"Certainly, you must not think of going!" cried Ringfield. "On no +account must you do such a thing. Do you know what is the matter with +him?" + +"Oh, the 'Pic' I suppose, but I'm not afraid of it." + +"Yet you have not been vaccinated, I fear!" + +"Who told you that? Dr. Renaud, I suppose. Of course. No! No one is +ever vaccinated here, no good Catholics at any rate. Good orthodox +ones, like myself." + +The doctor frowned, for he disliked the tone of bravado in which these +words were uttered. + +"It's no question of faith. It's a question of common sense and +precaution. I have charge of the case and I will not permit you or +anyone else to cross the threshold of Clairville Manor." + +"You would class me then with the Archambaults! My own people, who eat +and drink at my expense and who turn their backs on me in the hour of +trial! Poor Henry, it will finish him, I fear, yet I and none other +must be there to nurse him. _Mon Dieu_, but it is a shame!" + +"Silly girl!" snapped Renaud. "There is no nursing for you in this +case. Assuredly, Mlle. Pauline, you do not enter the house, I cannot +allow it. Besides, mademoiselle, you return home too late. If you +remained at Clairville longer, and had the place cleaned out, and saw +to it that it was kept clean, your brother might escape these +sicknesses, but poor girl, poor girl, I find it hard to blame you. +Antoine! turn back and drive to the village. Mademoiselle goes now +along with us." + +His allusions if they pained did not soften her, but it was at +Ringfield she continued to look. + +"I shall have no place to stay," she said poutingly. + +"It's a pity you came at all," said the doctor. "They can find you a +room at Poussette's." + +"I will die sooner than go to that man's house. It is a common place, +not fit for me." + +"Come, come, you are excited. We know Poussette's weakness for a +pretty face and a fine figure, but here is our new and true friend to +look after you." + +"Mine is not a pretty face, Dr. Renaud, and I prefer to look after +myself. You do not understand, I am out of a position by coming here. +I only heard last night that Henry was ill and I came at once, +expecting to be in my own home; I did not know what was the sickness he +had; I have left the theatre to come here and now I have nowhere to go." + +Ringfield spoke at last. + +"There need be no difficulty at all about your going to Poussette's, +Miss Clairville. You will oblige me by taking my room, which is the +largest and best in the house. As for me, I can do with anything. If +you wish I will go back to your house, sleep there in place of the +servants, and keep you aware of all that goes on, of your brother's +progress at least." + +"Quite unnecessary," broke in the doctor testily. "I am in charge of +this case, and one patient at one time is all I care for. Drive back, +Antoine, to Poussette's, where you will leave ma'amselle. Drive quick, +too, for I wish to see the carpenter, Alexis Gagnon, next door to M. +Poussette, where I think a room can be got for Mr. Ringfield. Allons! +we have wasted one good half-hour already!" + +"You blame me of course for that!" said Pauline, still gazing at +Ringfield, but talking to the doctor. + +"Faith, I do," said the latter grimly, and she said no more. + +In the Maison Pension of Alexis Gagnon, the village wag, carpenter and +undertaker, Ringfield was accommodated with a room which had a balcony +at the back looking on a square of Arctic garden, where amid circles +and triangles of whitewashed stones the tobacco plant and some +sunflowers lasted into the autumn. The news of monsieur's serious +illness had now filtered through the parish, and Poussette's was full +of men discussing the affair, as Pauline, looking like an outraged and +defeated savage queen, passed into the hall, trailing her cheap red +silken draperies up to Ringfield's room. The door to the bar was +partly open; whisky was going round as supposed to be good to ward off +the "Pic," and prominent in the noisy crowd was the shambling figure of +Crabbe, who did not appear to notice Pauline, nor she him, and +Ringfield, observing them both, could hardly bring himself to believe +their extraordinary story. The brilliant if wayward actress, with her +fine carriage and white hands, could never have belonged to that +derelict of a man, lower even than the rough Frenchmen from the rafts +and chantiers now demanding more "visky blanc". Yet in youth many +things are possible, and the recital of Mme. Poussette's history seemed +to prepare the way for Pauline's. Meanwhile Dr. Renaud had spoken to +madame, and within an hour she was ready, and, being driven to Lac +Calvaire, entered upon her labours without qualm or protest. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +PAULINE + + "A conspicuous flower, + Whom he had sensibility to love, + Ambition to attempt and skill to win." + + +Thus the next day and for many days to come Ringfield met the lady of +his dreams at breakfast and at dinner; her third meal was served +privately to her in her own room at a quarter to seven, and he wondered +why until he remembered her vocation. Though at present not acting she +evidently retained the habits of the profession, and for the first few +days she continued to wear the scarlet silken and spangled drapery in +which she had left the theatre, modified by different wraps and +scarves; then a trunk arrived and she appeared more discreetly and +soberly clad. One evening it became unusually warm for the season, and +stepping out on his balcony he perceived her seated on hers; he +returned her gracious and encouraging salutation, wholly different from +the self-conscious manner she affected at the dining-table, and he +hoped now to be able to take up the acquaintance where it had been +dropped. For his part he meant to ignore that miserable story of +Crabbe's; he would treat her as the lady she was and the sincere, +much-tried creature he thought her. Her mood just now chanced to be +charming, and as she rose, again wearing the gay dress of the theatre, +which showed her throat and elbows in their perfection, Ringfield, even +with his slight experience, knew that she was beautiful. That same +Nature which was so forced upon his notice in his new resting-place was +strong within him this evening, and he could not refuse to harbour +certain natural impulses of admiration and delight, especially as she +was unusually animated in voice, expression and gesture. + +"Do you not think it dreadful, Mr. Ringfield, that poor Mme. Poussette +is alone with my brother all this time? Should I not be there too and +take my share in some way? Oh, not in this dress of course; I +understand your look. I have only put this on because it is cooler +than any other I have with me. See--I have pinned up the train around +me! I must not scandalize the country-folk! I may tell you this--the +people of the village think me very peculiar. In their opinion I might +mend my manners." + +"Oh, _their_ opinion!" came from Ringfield with a smile. + +"Well, even here, even in St. Ignace, there is a standard, you see." + +"Of manners? Yes, I suppose so. And of morality, let us hope." + +"You are not certain? What have you found out, what departure from the +standard in other places? _Mon--Dieu_! I hope not--you are thinking +of Montreal and the Hotel-Champlain!" + +"The chief vice I have encountered here," returned Ringfield firmly, +"is drink, and as a result other things connected with it, ensuing +naturally." + +Miss Clairville sat down suddenly, and as she did so her draperies +whorled about her till she looked like some crimson flower with her +dark head for its centre. "Oh!" she said under her breath, "surely +there are worse things than drink!" Some latent emotion betrayed +itself in her voice; small wonder, he thought, if Crabbe were really +anything to her. + +"Certainly there are, but they are easier to deal with. There is my +difficulty, for I know I am going to find it very difficult to make an +impression, to work any lasting reform here." + +"And you wish to?" + +"I wish to if I can." + +"I thought at first you were only a preacher." + +He laughed. "Only a preacher! That conveys a great deal. You must +have but a poor idea of my vocation, of the saving grace and special +power of all true religion." + +"Religion! But if religion can do so much, why would not Father Rielle +succeed as well as you?" + +"Ah! there you have a problem, I admit. Perhaps, however, he has been +here too long; perhaps he is accustomed to the situation and is not so +deeply impressed by it. Besides, I am not so much concerned with the +habits of the rough fellows we see about here; as far as I can judge, +the lumbermen, mill-hands, labourers, and people of the village are +remarkably sober, considering the temptations and loneliness of the +life and certain contingencies which prevail. For example, when you +take two or three dozen uneducated men and isolate them for months in a +lumber camp, or a mine, or send them to work on remote booms and rafts, +depriving them of all family ties and Christian influences, and +removing them from all standards of conduct and character, what wonder +that you are confronted by this grave problem? + +"But I was not thinking of such cases. I was thinking rather of a +successful man like Poussette, good-hearted, respected by all who know +him, and yet so weak! So weak in this respect that he neglects his +business and allows himself to be led into disgrace and humiliation +by----" + +"I never knew Mr. Poussette drank!" exclaimed Miss Clairville +hurriedly. "I am quite surprised. He is such a kind man and a friend +of Henry's, and Father Rielle thinks highly of him, although he no +longer attends his church." + +Ringfield was now satisfied that she had broken into his speech +purposely to avoid the mention of the Englishman's name, but he +determined to stand his ground. + +"I was about to say that while I blame Poussette for his weakness I +blame still more the individual who in my opinion has led him on. +Living in the neighbourhood so long you must recognize the man I mean." + +Her attitude did not in the least change, nor was her gay mood +impaired, but she did not reply, and the silence was a challenge to him. + +"I mean the unfortunate Englishman who runs that grocery and liquor +shack across the road, who calls himself a gentleman, Crabbe, the +guide. You know him?" + +"I have seen him." + +"You _know_ him?" + +Surprised, she answered less brightly: "Yes, I know him." + +"You knew him better perhaps years ago? You knew him when he was +master of himself, when he first came here. He is, he tells me, an +English university man, and in the course of our conversation one day +he quoted from 'In Memoriam' in the intervals of a semi-drunken +confession." + +He now had all her attention; she tried to maintain her proud air, but +something was working in her to the exclusion of all coquetry, all +dissimulation. + +"If you know him so well, why--why come to me for information? Of +course any one living here, as you say, must have met him." + +"But he has spoken to me of you as if he knew you very well, as if----" +He could not continue, and even in her own uneasiness she felt a pity +and tenderness for him. + +"Why do you bother yourself about us--about him, I mean? Or me. I +shall be going away soon, I hope; you will not remain all your life in +such a little place as St. Ignace; try and forget what he has said." + +"I cannot. It is with me day and night. Tell me if it is true!" + +"Why should I tell you?" + +"Because I must know. Because, if a lie, such a tale must be traced +back from where it came--the black imagination of a depraved and +incorrigible villain. Because if true, if true----" his voice failed +him, and although it was now quite dark, Miss Clairville could detect +great excitement in his usually calm and pleasantly austere manner. + +She leant to him over the balcony. + +"But I cannot tell you here! I cannot go to you; will you then come to +me? There will be none upstairs at this hour in this house; they are +all gone to see the boat come in at the wharf. There is her whistle +now! Would you mind coming very much, Mr. Ringfield? Do you think it +wrong of me to ask you?" + +"Wrong, Miss Clairville?" + +"Improper, I mean. Even here there are the _convenances_, the +proprieties." + +"Proprieties! When we are talking of our immortal souls and of our +hopes of salvation! When truth is at stake, your character, your +future perhaps--think if that had been told to anyone else!" he +exclaimed half to himself. + +"Then you will come?" Miss Clairville's tone was full of a radiant +incredulity. She leant still farther towards him, and her eyes burned +into the surrounding darkness of the night. + +"I will come at once. I--if I meet anyone I can say that I am calling +on you to hear about your brother." + +She smiled, then frowned, in the dark. Would it be her lot to teach a +good man subtlety? Should she tell the truth? She had not long to +wait or think about it, for in five minutes Ringfield was knocking at +her door. Nothing subtle as yet looked forth from his earnest eyes, +and the grasp with which he took and held her hand was that of the +pastor rather than that of the lover, but the night was dark and +heavily warm, and although there were stars in the sky he did not look +at them. Jupiter was just rising, giving a large mellow light like a +house lamp, round and strong, and casting a shadow, but the fall of a +sable lock on Miss Clairville's white neck was already more to him. +They were soon seated side by side on the balcony. She had regained +something other usual manner. + +"You must not think that I am ungrateful for your interest in me," she +said. "I believe that you are a good man, a Christian I suppose you +call yourself, outside and above all creed, all ritual, the first I +have ever met. No, I am not forgetting Father Rielle. He did the best +he could for me, and Henry and others, but I could never follow the +rules of the Romish Church, although born and bred a Catholic. With +grand music one might stay in that communion, but not as our service is +rendered here. And then, the confession! That is all right when you +have nothing to confess, but not for me! Oh--Mr. Ringfield, why is it +I cannot confess to Father Rielle, but that I can or could to you?" + +"Then that story is true?" + +"What was the story? What did he say?" + +They talked now in whispers, and Ringfield told her in four short and +to him abhorrent words. "He said--you were his wife." + +Great was his relief when Pauline, starting from her seat, almost +screamed aloud her agitated reply. + +"No, it is not true! I never married him. That is--at least--no, I +entirely deny it. I am _not_ his wife. I am _not_ married to him." + +In his state of mind and inexperience he failed to notice the equivocal +nature of this denial. He heard the impassioned negatives; he saw +fear, resentment, and a sort of womanly repulsion in the frightened +gesture she flung upon the air, and what he wished to hear and prayed +to hear, that he heard. Crabbe then had deliberately lied perhaps, +considering his condition, he had only boastfully invented. + +"Thank God!" he ejaculated, standing up and taking Miss Clairville's +finely formed white hand in both of his own. "Thank God!" he repeated, +and, with restored confidence and renewed enthusiasm in all good works, +he seized the opportunity to speak of what was in his heart. "Now you +must listen to me. I believe, I honestly believe, that by His all-wise +and all-knowing ruling I have been sent here to help you and be your +friend. That letter I wrote to you--you received it I know, for I +heard about it. I went West from a sense of duty. I was not required, +and again the sense of duty brought me back to St. Ignace and--you." + +"Oh, not only me! You would have come back in any case. You say it +was Duty, not,--not----" Not Desire? If this were thought in some +vague and unapprehended shape, it was not spoken. Ringfield gave her +hand a strong and kindly pressure and let it fall. + +"It was duty, yes, duty revealed to me by my Maker, to serve and obey +whom is not only my duty but my whole desire and pleasure." + +"You really mean what you say in telling me this? It sounds like +things we read, like the little books they gave us at Sorel-en-haut. +_Mon Dieu_! but those little books! And one big one there was, a +story-book about a girl, all about a girl. A girl called Ellen, Ellen +something, I have forgotten." + +"That must have been 'The Wide, Wide World'. And you read that while +you were at school!" + +"Yes, when I was a young girl. I am afraid it didn't do me much good." + +These interchanges of simple talk marked the progress of their +friendship. Any fact about her past or present life, no matter how +trivial, was of astonishing interest to him. And to her, the knowledge +that she was already and swiftly, passionately, purely dear to a being +of Ringfield's earnest mould and serious mien, so different to the +other man who had come into her life, gave a sense of delicious triumph +and joy. They continued to talk thus, in accents growing momentarily +more tender, of many things connected with her youth and his calling, +and the fact that they kept their voices down so intimately low lent +additional zest and delight to the situation. Only when Ringfield +alluded directly to Edmund Crabbe did she show uneasiness. + +"You must give me the right to settle this affair with him," said her +visitor. "We cannot risk such statements being made to people of the +village, to such a man as Poussette, for example." + +"Oh--Poussette!" Miss Clairville found it possible and even pleasant +now to laugh. "Do you not know then all about Mr. Poussette? He is in +love with me, too, or so he says. Yes, I have had a great deal of +bother with him. That poor Mme. Poussette! It is not enough that one +is faded and worn and has lost one's only little child, but one must +also be _wished dead_, out of the way by one's husband. Ah--you are +startled, _mais c'est la belle verité_! It is a good thing to be a +clergyman, like you, Mr. Ringfield; you are removed from all these +_bétises_, all these foolish imaginings. You do your work and look +neither to the right nor the left. How I wish I were like you! I only +pray, for I do pray sometimes, that no thought of me will ever darken +your young and ardent life; I only hope that no care for me will ever +turn you aside from your plain duty." + +"Do not, please," broke in Ringfield, pushing back his chair so loudly +that she was obliged to beg more caution, "use that tone to me. +Twenty-six is not so very young. I should have spoken and felt as I +feel and as I speak when I was twenty. So Poussette is added to your +list of admirers! Will it be Father Rielle himself next, I wonder? +Oh, Miss Clairville--I was right! The theatre is no place for you. I +ask you to leave it, to forsake it for ever. This your opportunity. +Do not go back to it. I do not, it is true, know anything about it +from actual experience, but I can gather that it presents, must +present, exceptional temptations. Will you not be guided by me? Will +you not take and act upon my advice?" + +"But the special troubles that beset me are here, not within the +theatre! If Poussette is silly, with his ridiculous attentions when he +thinks his wife is not looking, if the other person, if----" + +"You mean this man Crabbe?" + +She inclined her head; at the mention of the name all spirit seemed to +die out of her. + +"If he maligns me, slanders and lies about me, that is here--here at +St. Ignace, and not at the theatre. Why, then, do you expect me to +return here for good? I come back too often as it is. I should leave +here altogether, but that some influence, some fate, always draws me +back." + +"Whose influence? for with fate I will have nothing to do. God and a +man's self--with these we front the world, the flesh, and the Devil. +Crabbe's evil influence still! You knew him when he called himself by +another name?" + +"Yes, Mr. Edmund Hawtree. We, we---- I suppose you would call it a +flirtation. He was very different then, as you may believe." + +Jealousy leapt into Ringfield's breast, the first he had ever known, +and a common retort sprang to his lips. + +"I should hope so! I cannot bear to think of your having known him +well under any circumstances. The man is low! Whether drunk or sober +he has nothing to commend him, and I believe him to be utterly +irreclaimable and lost." + +"In this world perhaps. But not necessarily in the next? Do you +decline, then, to continue the work of reformation?" + +He winced, and upon recalling what he had said saw his error. "No, I +retract that. He is human, therefore a soul to be saved, as one of +God's creatures, but whether the man can be reinstated in society is a +doubtful matter. You are right to defend him, and I am sad only when I +grudge you those memories of him. You knew him then so very well?" + +She understood the pleading tone and she endeavoured to be candid, but +how explain certain things to a man of Ringfield's calibre? To +another, a glance, a smile, the inflection of a word, of a syllable, +and all would be clear. How was she to frame an explanation which +should receive his tacit and grave but unenlightened approval? How far +he could conjecture, disassociate, dissect, limit and analyse, weigh +and deduct, the various progresses in a crude amalgamation people call +Love, she did not know, and there lay her difficulty. + +"I will tell you what I can. I was quite young when I met Mr. Hawtree, +'Crabbe,' as he is now known. It is his second name. He had been +unfortunate in money affairs, I understood, and had not been trained to +any kind of work. It was after I returned from Sorel that I found him +here. He frequently came to visit Henry; they described themselves as +gentlemen together, and I suppose they were not wise company for one +another, but at first I did not take any notice. He fell in love with +me, and talked a great deal to me, improving my English as he called +it, and you can understand how little opportunity I had had of reading +or continuing my studies. I have no talent for the _ménage_; besides, +Henry's methods had been long in practice, and I could not unchange +them, at the age of nineteen! Mr. Hawtree and I were thus thrown very +much together, yet one thing kept occurring which made me very +miserable. I found out that he was drinking, and Henry too! Then +another thing--my bad temper. Ah! how I suffered, suffered, in those +days with that man, Mr. Ringfield!" + +"I can well believe it." + +"And he with me! Perhaps some other kind of woman would have suited +him better, a timid, angelic, gentle little being who would have +appealed to him more. When we quarrelled he grew like all you English, +haughty and sneering--ah! when I think of it! And I changed to a +fury--the Clairville temper--and gave back even more, even worse, than +I got. But do not let us talk any more about it! You have discovered +what I would have hidden, and for my part I get on better when I make +myself forget it and him altogether." + +He was silent; new and conflicting ideas clashed in his brain, while +very close to him in the warm, fragrant night sat this alluring, sorely +tried and lonely creature, who soon found the silence insupportable. +To keep talking was safe; to be long silent impossible, since they +seemed to draw nearer and nearer with every moment, and soon it would +either be Ringfield's hand upon that dark lock he perceived adorning +her white neck, or her head with its crown of hair stealing tenderly +towards his shoulder. From such a precipitation of events they were +saved by timely recollection of their position and the sounds which +reached them from the road. The boat was leaving again, and they knew +they had been thus together for an hour. Ringfield rose. + +"There is now only the man himself to be seen and made to understand +that such stories about you must cease. I shall speak to him at once, +to-night perhaps, certainly to-morrow." + +At this she quailed and could not control herself; she laid her hands +on his arm and all the delicate art of the actress was called upon to +assist her pleading. + +"Oh!" she cried, "do you not see that it is better left alone? You +take my word--you take my word of honour with you this night--I was +never married to that man. Let it rest there. Do not speak with him +about me. I could not bear it! I should be so ill, so worried, so +unhappy. We scarcely see each other now; let it all be dropped and +forgotten. He--he--exaggerated, forgets---- Oh! I do not know how to +put it, but you must not speak of it. He did not know what he was +saying, you know that yourself." + +"That was what I thought at first, certainly." + +They remained standing; eye on eye and her firm hands still clasping +his arm. "You will promise me?" + +He reflected a moment and then gave her his promise. + +"On this condition, that if he speaks of it again, to my knowledge, to +anyone, anywhere, I must then confront him and prove it a lie on your +own showing." + +Miss Clairville, only too glad to have gained her point, readily +acceded, and Ringfield at once withdrew, fortunately without meeting +anyone on the stairs or verandah. And now once more for him prospects +were partly fair. Pauline's denial satisfied him; easily deceived on +such a score, he knew nothing of intermediate stages of unlicensed and +unsanctified affection. In his opinion women were either good or bad, +married or unmarried, and to find this coveted one free was enough. +The problem was how to manage the future; whether he would ever be in a +position to marry, for it had come to that, and whether Miss Clairville +would consent to leave the stage; as far as he was concerned the sooner +the better. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE PICNIC + + ".... The charm + Of pious sentiment diffused afar + And human charity and social love." + + +There is an idea which prevails among many thoughtful people, but which +is nevertheless a good deal of a fallacy, that in the complex and +congested life of cities greater opportunities for observation of +character can be found than in the country. Ringfield, for example, +would have combated this idea, feeling that he might have left college +and taken up his work in some large Western town, preaching every +Sunday to a numerous and flourishing congregation, and continued thus +for several years without encountering the strongly marked types he had +met within a few weeks at St. Ignace. It may be said in general of +life in cities of the new world that dwellers in such populous centres +are apt to undergo considerable change of character; their natural +traits become altered or turned aside, dissimulation and caution are +engendered by force of circumstances, while conformity to usage and +imitation enter largely into daily conduct. Thus, environment becomes +stronger than heredity; respectability at least is demanded, +individualities disappear, and the natural man is outwardly vanquished. +In the village, family failings, vices and virtues remain on +exhibition, as it were, for years, known to all about. The blend here +and there is recognized; individuals are often remarkable for +peculiarities or defects of moral and physical construction, and +heredity is strong. The simplicity of surrounding life supplies an +impressive background for the elemental passions which reveal +themselves in primitive or aboriginal force. Absence of standards, +absence of amusements, the lack of contrast, these are a few of the +causes that contribute towards the self-centred existence led by most +inhabitants of rural communities. To prove this, one has but to think +of a cripple, or a dwarf, or a drunken man, or a maniac; also, to +revert to pleasanter images, of an unusual flower or animal, or of +convincing and conspicuous personal beauty. What is a cripple in the +city? He is passed by without a glance, for there are, alas! many like +him. What is a dwarf? He only suggests the unnatural or unpleasant; +the last circus or a fairy-book. What is a drunken man in a city? Or +what a poor maniac? Officers of the police, and places of correction, +physicians and nurses are at hand; the suffering and the evildoer are +taken away and we know them no more. + +But if we change a little part of speech and write the cripple, and +proceed to think of the cripple in a village, or the dwarf, or the +drunken man or the maniac, we instantly perceive how their presence +must greatly colour the limited society in which they exist; how they +must either amuse or disgust, arouse sympathy or create fear, as the +case may be, and although a calla lily and a red-blooming cactus, a +parrot or Persian kitten, are scarcely regarded as curiosities or +rarities in the city, they may easily come to be regarded as such in +the village. + +From uninteresting and unimpersonal generalizations and aggregations +such as dwarfs, cripples, lunatics, cats and parrots, we turn to the +individuals of the species and behold--it is now The Cripple, The +Dwarf, The Maniac, and so on, and how profoundly important the +appearance and conduct, habits and dwellings of these--our +companions--immediately become. We cannot get away from them, nor they +from us. And the beautiful young girl! She is often safer in the +city, where a kind of dove-like wisdom soon informs and protects, than +in the lonely and silent places of the wilderness. The beauty that was +fatally conspicuous in the village finds its rival and its level in the +town. + +Ringfield had certainly had his full share of ministering to the +decadent and the unhappy at St. Ignace, and he was therefore very +pleased one day to be called on by the Rev. Mr. Abercorn, incumbent of +St Basil's at Hawthorne, the latter a small settlement, about nine +miles distant, in which the English element predominated. Once a year +the congregation of St. Basil's gave a picnic tea, when members of +surrounding denominations met tranquilly on common ground and neutral +territory. Macaulay's description of the peculiar position of the +Church of England is nowhere truer than in some isolated districts like +these Lower Canadian hamlets. She does, indeed, occupy a happy middle +place between the unadorned wooden temples with whitewashed windows of +the sects, and the large, aggressive stone churches of the Romish +faith. Were her clergy as alive to the situation and the peculiar +wants of the _peuple gentil-homme_ as they ought to be, one would meet +with greater numbers of adherents to the Episcopal ritual. + +Mr. and Mrs. Abercorn were fully in sympathy with the countryside, and +acted themselves as runners and scouts in connexion with the picnic +tea, the lady seconding her husband in the most able and sagacious +manner, the latter bringing to his duties all those charms of culture +and presence which ministers of the Episcopal Church so often possess, +even when not too richly dowered with profound theological learning or +magnetic gifts of oratory. Moral and social wisdom, tact and +experience of the world, often atone for intellectual shortcomings, +especially in rural districts, and Ringfield was compelled to admit +that he was not the only worker in the neighbourhood capable of +understanding the wants of the people. Mr. Abercorn was about fifty, +but as enthusiastic and energetic as a much younger man. + +"I knew something of French life and character before I came out here. +My wife is a native of Jersey. Our severe climate with its long, +rigorous winter and short but hot summer has helped to form the +national character; also the scenery. I mean that the beauty of the +place, of all these fine but lonely, austere rivers and forests creates +a melancholy, reflective tendency, and this makes it difficult in the +matter of recreation, which last is what so many of our people require, +particularly the French. I would have amusements going all the time if +I could afford it, but that, of course, is not feasible; the _joie de +vivre_ is only to be arrived at modestly, and in our small way we try +to make our picnic tea a success. We hope you will come over and join +us on that occasion. We shall be having it later than usual this year, +one reason for this being the fact that such serious illness exists in +your own parish. I refer to Mr. Henry Clairville. It would not do to +have much visiting between the parishes. And how is he getting on, for +I suppose you hear all about him from time to time." + +Ringfield, as it happened, knew very little of what was transpiring at +the Manor House, but remarked that the worst was over, that the wife of +Poussette was still absent from her home, and that Miss Clairville had +not returned to her vocation. + +"Ah," ejaculated Mr. Abercorn thoughtfully, "a peculiar family, a +peculiar family indeed; but they are very fortunate in having you here. +Oh, yes, I am not in the least bigoted, you know,--can't afford to be +down here,--and I only hope you'll stay and make a great success of the +new church. If everything goes well, we'll hold our picnic on the 1st +of November, sort of Harvest Festival and Thanksgiving all in one, and +either I or Mrs. Abercorn will drive over for you, as I suppose you +will not be setting up a horse just yet." + +On the day appointed Ringfield was sitting dully enough in his room +over the carpenter's shop. Pauline was lingering on at Poussette's, +partly because she had no other place to go, and partly because +Ringfield was near. Their relations had not outwardly progressed since +the evening on her balcony; several other meetings had taken place, but +once assured that she was free, Ringfield settled to his work, +preferring to put the whole episode from him for a while, until he +could feel satisfied that she might be approached on the subject of the +theatre. Thus their feelings were like Tennyson's wood, all in a mist +of green with nothing perfect; meanwhile only a couple of planks +separated them at this very instant, and, as usual, his thoughts were +hovering about her at this hour, about half-past one o'clock, when he +heard his name called by a younger member of the Gagnon family (a +numerous one of five boys and four little girls), and descended to meet +Mrs. Abercorn. This lady was taking the opportunity, in her rôle of +auxiliary parson and general parochial assistant, of putting in a good +word for Hawthorne and St. Basil's as she sat in her buggy at the door, +surrounded by Poussette, Martin, and eight or ten children. + +An intractable little mare pawed and shuffled in an uncertain frame of +mind, apparently viewing with special disfavour the fiddling of Antoine +Archambault, who had been hanging around the village ever since +Pauline's return. Glancing consciously up, Ringfield thought he +perceived a white hand and gleaming bracelet at the window of his old +room. + +"We have a rough drive before us, with a bad four miles in one place," +said Mrs. Abercorn, "so we'll get away at once. You haven't been over +to Hawthorne yet, Mr. Ringfield, how is that? But never mind, you'll +be one of us after this afternoon at any rate. Do you play croquet?" + +Looking rather astonished, Ringfield said "_No_," and the emphasis led +Mrs. Abercorn to smile as she observed him more closely. She herself +was one of those people of good birth who instinctively ask, no matter +where they are placed, of everybody they meet, "Is she a _lady_?" "Is +he a _gentleman_?" but who, in spite of this inherent and clannish +trait, manage to make friends with the mammon of No-Family. She was +literally as broad as she was high; short hair, turning grey, was +fantastically curled about her clever, dark eyes; she had two hats, one +for summer and one for winter, the latter a man's old seal cap; her +skirts and jackets were skimp and dowdy, and her features and +complexion unattractive, yet the authority and ease, the whole manner +of the true lady made her a delightful companion, and she would have +been equally diverting and diverted at a Royal Audience in Buckingham +Palace or at a bean-feast on an Indian reserve. She displayed +ornaments that were not precisely jewels, the value of which was of +genealogical order; thus, she wore her grandfather's fobs and seals, +her mother's bracelets of bog-oak and lava, and her brooch contained +the hair of her only child, long deceased. She had had one +dinner-dress for ten years of black "uncrushable grenadine," cut +square, and it was quite true that she was the niece of an earl and the +daughter of an admiral, and that she had eloped with the Rev. Marcus +Abercorn eighteen years ago. + +Ringfield had never met any one like her before, but in spite of her +accent, so extremely English that in the Canadian country it was almost +certain to be dubbed "affected," and in spite of a bright worldliness +he found unusual in a clergyman's wife, he liked her very much and +watched her manipulation of the mare--Flora Macdonald--with great +interest, and not a little apprehension. + +The bad four miles turned out to consist of alternate patches of +ancient corduroy road, the logs exposed for a foot or so above the +soil, and a long hogs-back of dyke-veined limestone, the ridges of spar +and quartz cutting deep into the rock. + +Mrs. Abercorn sighed eloquently for the lanes of Old England as the +mare pranced, and the buggy flew over the various obstructions, bumping +and swinging in a reckless manner Ringfield had never seen equalled. + +"We are a little late," said his aristocratic charioteer, her hat +crooked and her mouth quite as vicious as Flora's when touched up with +a ragged whip, "but we'll be in time for a game of croquet before tea. +We have the tea at five, because it's beginning to darken so early, and +then we have a nice little show in the school-house: Marcus and I both +believe in amusing the people. So you see it's not exactly a picnic, +but quite a lot of things put together. You'll see presently." + +And he did. Father and mother of their people, Mr. and Mrs. Abercorn +had instituted a remarkable series of "events," as they say on regatta +programmes--nautical, terpsichorean, athletic, musical and +histrionic--grouped under the head of "games" and the large and +delighted crowd drawn from several parishes rewarded their cheerful and +untiring efforts. The Rector was not only all things to all men but to +many women and numerous children as well, and Ringfield noted that, +unlike the West, the men assembled were nearly all old men; there was a +marked scarcity of boys and youths, and these old men appeared to be +many years older than they had any right to appear. Many of them +possessed but a couple of sound teeth apiece, others had retained the +lower set more or less horribly intact, while a single tusk adorned the +upper gum. Absence of regular visits to the dentist, or indeed of any +visits at all, had wrought this ruin in faces also wrinkled and +weather-beaten by exposure to the strenuous climate. The women showed +to better advantage than the men, and the French were more +prepossessing and better preserved than the English, especially in the +matter of teeth, owing probably to a steady diet of onions and +comparative lack of meat. + +Diversity among the ladies included the fat, motherly looking ones, +several of whom were spinsters; the young, too-smartly dressed +daughters of farmers, possessing very little beauty, but of good height +and figure; one person clothed entirely in black silk and very +conscious of a new kind of watch, of gold and colours and small, pinned +to her left bosom; and last, a couple of conventional Englishwomen +staying at the Rectory. + +It was natural that Mrs. Abercorn should desire to present to her +friends and a few of the "quality" so good-looking a young man as +Ringfield, and as soon as the buggy had been tied up under a grove of +maples, he was led about by the energetic queen of the feast, whose +attire, weird enough while driving, had now culminated in a highly +rational although unusual aspect. Everything upon her partook of an +unpleasing and surely unnecessary brevity; thus her figure was too +short for her breadth, and her skirts too short for her figure; her +jacket was too short over her hips, and her gloves too short over her +wrists; her hair was too short on her neck and her veil too short over +her nose. Yet the rakish hat settled, and the fobs and seals shaken +out, she appeared mentally fresh and charming, and the rich cadences of +her cultivated voice gave Ringfield pleasure, slightly recalling Miss +Clairville's accents, and he was happy in experiencing for the first +time in his life that amiable naturalness, inimitable airiness, ease +and adaptability, which characterize the Anglican clergy and their +method of doing things. Attenuated tennis, Lilliputian Badminton, +swings, a greased pole, potato and sack races, fiddling, and dancing on +a platform, for the French, all these he passed in review with Mrs. +Abercorn and the English ladies, presently participating in a merry +game of croquet on a rocky, uneven, impossible kind of ground. The +Rev. Marcus, and the person in black silk joined in this game of +croquet, the latter so exclusive that it gave Ringfield the feeling +that people must have when they are chosen for a _quadrille d'honneur_. + +Without relief or intermission the amusements held sway till about +half-past four, when even the quality tired of their croquet; the day, +though bright, was cold, and a bonfire on the rocks was greatly +patronized by the very old and very young, while distant preparations +for tea were viewed, at first with stealthy, half-reluctant admiration, +and then with open restlessness. The patriarchs--toothless and +wrinkled, yet not a man of them over fifty-eight--stood around in +expectant silent clusters, and also in their best clothes, of which a +great deal of faded red neck-tie and pepper and salt trousers seemed +chiefly to strike the eye. + +The tea was to be served in the large barn adjoining the church, +surrounded on two sides by tall plantations of Indian corn, a rough +kind known as horse corn, and not used at table. Very soon those +engaged in the games fell away by twos and threes, and the rector and +his wife gaily beating the covers afforded by forest and grove, all +gradually converged to the meeting point outside the big doors of the +barn, through which were now passing the wives and daughters of the +plough, bearing coarse bedroom jugs of tea and coffee, plates of cakes, +pies, and sandwiches. The people waiting thus in patient content at +the doors were orderly and sober, and none ventured to enter till their +rector, having unearthed even the remotest and shyest member of his +flock, advanced in florid hurry and taking his wife and Ringfield with +him, passed under the hanging branches of maize, asparagus, fern and +crabapples which decorated the great door. The floor of the barn, +although partially cleared, was still half full of straw, and flecks of +it flew through the air as the people trooped in, decently awed but +amused too, for the ripple of lowered laughter and pleased hum of +voices resounded throughout the building. The walls, draped with flags +and coloured curtains, held sheaves of grasses and several lamps in +brackets at the sides, and the food, good, plain, with plenty of it, +adorned the two long tables that ran down the middle. Ringfield, at +the head of a table, was comparing the scene with some Harvest Homes of +his youth, and wondering who would start the Doxology, when he heard +the rector say, standing a long way off at the end of the other table:-- + +"We have the Rev. Mr. Ringfield of St. Ignace with us this afternoon, +and I have no doubt that he is already as anxious as the rest of you +for a share of the good things we see here before us, so I am going to +ask him to say--ah--Grace, then we can fall to. Mr. Ringfield, will +you be kind enough to ask the blessing?" + +There was a pause, not because Ringfield was unready on these occasions +nor because of any fear lest his special kind of intercessory +gastronomic prayer might fail to carry conviction with it, but on +account of the intrusion of two belated arrivals down by the door. He +could not distinguish very clearly, but there seemed to be some one +either invalided or very young in a basket-chair, wheeled in by a young +woman of twenty-two or twenty-three, who entering brusquely, on a run, +and laughing, was silenced, and the chair and its occupant pushed back +against the wall. This slight but untimely interruption over, +Ringfield gazed solemnly around--it was already growing a little dim in +the barn--and spoke as follows, with head thrown back, and closed +eyes:-- + +"O Lord, the giver of all good things, who sendest seed-time and +harvest, rain and sun on the fruits of the earth and crownest the year +with fatness, look down on us at this time and bless us." At this +point the Anglicans present sat down under the impression that the +"grace" was over. They rose again in confusion as Ringfield +continued:-- + +"We thank Thee for these, Thy temporal blessings vouchsafed unto us as +a people. We have Thy pledge in the book of Thy Holy Word, that while +the earth remaineth, seed-time and harvest shall not fail. We thank +Thee for the fields white with harvest. We thank Thee for our great +and beautiful country; for its beneficent laws, its opportunities, its +great and unequalled privileges, and we pray for our rulers, for all in +authority, for all engaged in the ministry of whatever denomination, +for the Queen and the Royal Family. We pray for him whose duty it is +to go in and out before this assembly; grant him wisdom and spiritual +strength; bless also the partner of his life work, and may their united +labours prevail and resound to Thy glory and the honour of Thy name, +and while we remember at this time to thank Thee with full hearts for +these temporal gifts, let us be swift to remember also Thy choicer, +greater, holier gift of Free Salvation; Mercy, Pardon, Peace, and +glorious relief from sin and its thraldom--these may be ours for the +asking. O Lord, if any sinner lurk among us, if any poor sinner be at +this board to-night, search him, O Lord, and purge his mortal body, try +it with Thy true refiner's fire. As our snows are pure, so let us be +pure. As our waters are deep yet clear, let our minds be clear of +evil, and rid of all offence; and for all who by reason of sin, or +pain, or sickness, or any other infirmity either of body or of mind +cannot be with us at this time, we pray that Thou wilt comfort, uplift, +forgive and relieve them. All--for Christ's sake--Amen." + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +"ANGEEL!" + + "Like a sheep enthralled + 'Mid thorns and brambles." + + +On the conclusion of this address, which was Ringfield's idea of a +"grace" and which was modelled on the Methodist formula customary on +such occasions, the people, whose appetites had been held over-long in +check, took their seats with expressions of relief and in some cases +with audible grunts and whispers of annoyance. The truth was, +Ringfield had exhibited a want of tact in expatiating in an eloquent +prayer on things better left alone, from the village point of view. It +was bad enough to occupy so much time when already it was darkening and +soon the lamps would have to be lighted; it was bad enough to pray in +public for the rector and his wife; it was entirely inexcusable to hint +at the presence of a sinner in their midst, at the very board now +covered with the home-made dainties cooked and sent in by the ladies of +Hawthorne. In itself perhaps the prayer, though trite and redundant +(Ringfield was not in his best vein, no longer single-minded), was +eloquent and pointed, and the reference to the snows and rivers of the +country extremely poetic and suggestive, yet it was not in accordance +with the best taste, although prompted by the best feeling. The rector +and his wife, ignoring their own sentiments, made haste to smooth away +the little difficulty that had thus unexpectedly arisen, and in a few +minutes all was in a pleasant clatter and babble with the pouring of +tea, cutting of huge three-decker cakes, and passing of large, solid +plates holding pyramids of equally large and solid sandwiches. +Ringfield, devoting himself to the English visitors and the person in +black silk, who was the widow of a deceased lumber king correctly +reputed to have left an enormous fortune, was by the nature of things +the last to perceive that he had wounded the delicate sensibilities of +the company, and therefore he made a good meal, unconscious of the +comments lower down his table and also around the rector. + +"It's always the way with them Methodists," said one speaker in a +careful undertone, a venerable body of fifty or so, with four teeth +left in his head, bent, bald and wrinkled. "They pride themselves on +what they call 'extem-pore' speaking." He gave the word only three +syllables of course. "Why, it's mostly out of the Prayer Book anyway! +He said 'any other infirmity,' did you notice? And we say, 'any other +adversity,' don't we? Well, where's the difference?" + +"The tairms are not precisely in the nature of synonyms," remarked the +schoolmaster, a Scotchman of sandy and freckled appearance, who was +cutting a sandwich into small pieces with his penknife and then +frugally conveying them to his mouth with the aid of the same useful +implement. "But in a sairtain sense ye can _call_ them synonyms." + +"It's out of course and all irregular like to pray for the Queen and +the Royal Family on a day like this. 'Twould be best keep that for +Sundays where it belongs," said the wife of the ancient who had spoken +first. + +"What can ye expect, ma'am, when they come to it without their notes? +Stands to reason, if any man's going to preach earnest, _earnest_, mind +you, he'll require some notes or heads jotted down, clear and easy to +be got at, before him." This was the opinion of another elderly man, +but of a fat and comfortable if blustering variety, who had come out +from the English provinces thirty years before as cook with a regiment, +and was now the Hawthorne butcher and general store-keeper, also +accounted a rich man. + +"But that's not the point," he went on with husky and stertorous +fervour. "The point is not whether what he said was well said or ill +said; the point is, he should never have spoke them words at all. +Point? To almost point the finger at us sitting around this hospitable +board declaring we were all sinners! So we are, all of us. The Litany +says so, don't it? Don't it say, 'miserable sinners'?" + +"It does, it does," murmured a sympathetic female engaged in feeding +two out of eleven kinds of cake to a child on her lap. + +"And the rector leaves it there, where it ought to be left. In my +opinion, ma'am, it don't do no good to pray nor preach too direct. +It's casting a stone, that's what it is, it's casting a stone." + +"Perhaps he was nervous, poor young man, at seeing so many people," +said the young mother of the child who was crumbling the cake all over +its mouth and fingers and dress without swallowing any, having +previously been regaled with maple sugar and molasses candy outside, +and consequently not feeling very hungry. "Perhaps he has heard about +Angeel." + +The latter was the common pronunciation of Angele, the name of the +little girl in the basket-chair who was engaged like the rest in eating +and drinking in company with her nurse not far from Mr. Abercorn. + +At the word "Angeel" several warning coughs around her, winks, nudges +and a kick under the table, made the young woman so flurried that she +slapped the child for not eating properly, and the child immediately +beginning to cry, a diversion was created, but not before Ringfield had +overheard a few remarks touching his recent prayer, not exactly +flattering to his self-esteem. Soon the conversation lapsed as the +piles of cake, custard and pumpkin pies and jugs of tea were depleted; +and Mr. Abercorn, upon whom the quiet and gathering gloom had a +depressing effect, jumped up and asked for volunteers to assist in +lighting the lamps. + +"We usually get through without artificial aid to our eyes and our +mouths, but that is when the picnic tea is held in October. We are at +least a fortnight late this year. We shall want the tall men for +this--Jacobs, Enderby, Anselme--you take these three lamps on the other +side while I find somebody to help me with mine." + +"On the score of height, at least," said Ringfield pleasantly, leaving +his seat and striding down the centre of the barn, "I can offer my +services. Which are the ones to be lighted? These two and the one +just over our heads?" + +"Very good of you, I'm sure," responded the rector briefly. "They are +quite steady on their brackets, I suppose, men? Now shut those doors; +we don't want any draught. Be careful with the matches, everybody!" + +The others had got to work first, and along their side of the wall, +Anselme, Jacobs, and Enderby, the butcher, slowly lit their three +lamps, when, Ringfield, busy over a refractory wick and just in the act +of applying a match, in turning his head, saw directly beneath him the +basket-chair and its occupant as well as the young woman in charge of +it. + +The shock of perceiving what was in reality more of a Thing than a +person, being an unfortunate child of about nine years of age, +otherwise well formed, but with a weak and hanging head enlarged very +much beyond its normal size and yet with a pair of shrewd eyes and a +smiling mouth, told upon his nerves. He started, leant too heavily on +the bracket, and in a second the lighted lamp, as yet without a +chimney, fell on the floor. + +In another second the straw and decorations were all in a blaze, the +barn full of smoke and commotion; and he was conscious only of himself +and the rector wildly stamping, grovelling, and pushing with might and +main for what seemed hours of fear and suspense. The men tore the +great doors open; there were, happily, no corridors to tread, no stairs +to descend; the women and children first, and then their husbands and +fathers, rushed out, mostly uninjured, into the cool twilight air, and +when Ringfield came to himself he found that in some way he too was +outside the barn, holding on to the basket-chair, nearly hysterical +from the fright he had sustained, but still endeavouring to calm the +dreadful child and its nurse, both of whom were shrieking wildly. + +"Angeel! Angeel!" cried the girl, and then in French: "Oh, what would +they say to me if anything happened to you! It doesn't matter about +me, only you, Angeel, only you!" + +Ringfield looked around, dazed. The comfort, jollity, and abandon of +the picnic tea were things of the past. The barn had been saved and +the fire was out, but the groups of excited, tearful women and +coatless, dishevelled men, the rector with one hand badly burnt, Mrs. +Abercorn loudly deploring the loss of her hat and an antique +bracelet--all was forlorn, changed, miserable! And all this was his +fault, his doing, the result of his carelessness! He could scarcely +frame the words with which to deeply lament the unfortunate accident, +but his very genuine contrition softened the rector's heart even while +he felt some resentment at the sudden fatality which had spoiled the +day and in his own case was destined to leave a very unpleasant +remembrance. + +"The question is," said Mr. Abercorn, talking to Enderby and the +schoolmaster, "whether we are to go on with the rest of the programme. +I'm the only one, happy to say, at all injured, and already the pain is +better. Plunge in, men, and get out all the burnt stuff and tidy the +tables. It might have been worse; thank God, none were hurt! And we +mustn't let Mr. Ringfield feel badly about it. The bracket was weak, +I'm sure it was weak, and he's a stranger among us. What are you +saying, Enderby? A judgment on him? Nonsense. I thought you had more +sense. Ask him to remain for the evening and everything shall go on as +we intended to have it." + +But Ringfield did not care to stay. Everything was against him; for +the first time in his life he felt himself a failure,--in the way. How +had he come to be so careless? Well he knew, for the face of the +dreadful child, in spite of its deformity, evinced a strong, strong, +insistent resemblance to a face he knew. The dark hair and eyes, the +shape of the forehead, the way the hair grew on the forehead--where had +he seen it all reproduced not so very long ago? Miss Clairville's +expression, colouring, and animated play of gesture lived again in this +mysterious child. + +About seven o'clock, just as Mrs. Abercorn's "nice little show" was +beginning, he took his way home. The path lay along the darkest road +he had ever seen; there was neither moon nor stars, and the blackness +of a country road bordered by dense forests can only be understood by +those who have travelled at such a time, and for the nine miles that he +plodded stupidly along--for he declined to wait to be driven--given up +to sombre and sinister thoughts, he was a most unhappy man. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE HEART OF POUSSETTE + + "Yet is the creature rational--endowed + With foresight, hears too, every Sabbath day, + The Christian promise with attentive ear, + Nor disbelieves the tidings which he hears, ..." + + +About a week later, Ringfield was descending the hilly road behind +Poussette's at four o'clock in the afternoon, when he discerned a new +arrival at the wharf, and as the tourist season was over, the boat only +making a few occasional trips, he was curious concerning the lady who, +showily if neither correctly nor expensively attired, was looking about +her in disappointment and consternation. Poussette himself hurried out +in his character of host; his manner was more than usually warm and +familiar as he took her bag and umbrella, and Ringfield soon learnt +that she was Miss Sadie Cordova from Montreal, although originally from +New York, a member of the Theatre of Novelties, who had come to pay +Miss Clairville a visit. This new acquisition to St. Ignace society +was more consistently lively than Pauline, not being troubled with +moods, and she brightened the place up very considerably in various +directions; she did not share Pauline's room, for Poussette gallantly +led her to the apartment vacated by Mme. Poussette, but the two friends +were constantly together, and Ringfield at first rejoiced in the advent +of the gay Cordova, as it intimated a sensible enjoyment of life on +Pauline's part in place of moping and brooding, and as it also appeared +to keep Edmund Crabbe off the premises. But these two good ends were +gained at the expense of a third, for the constant and animated, even +tender attentions of the host were altogether too obvious, although at +first no complaint could be made, since so much feminine society served +to keep Poussette also steady and sober. Still, card-playing in the +mornings, noisy operatic music in the afternoons (there was no piano, +only an old American organ, in the house) and coquettish scufflings, +dancing, and conscious giggling _tête-à-têtes_ in the hall every long, +lamp-lit evening soon became wearisome, and Ringfield, made vaguely +uneasy, took on himself to reprove Poussette. + +The place was the bar--always the most attractive spot in the house, +for the Indian guide, a sober, worthy man, kept it absolutely clean and +tidy, and there were comfortable _habitant_ chairs and a wide hearth +for logs. These were burning brightly now, as the first November snows +were falling, and while Ringfield expostulated with Poussette, the +latter spread out his fat hands to the blaze. Upon the little finger +of the left hand sat a square seal ring of pale cornelian, and as +Ringfield looked he clearly saw the capital letter "C" picked out in +red upon the white. New and hateful pangs, suspicions, jealousies, +assailed him; he was sure that this must be Pauline's ring, although he +had never noticed her wearing it, and the thoughts thereby engendered +did not tend to make him listen calmly to Poussette's line of defence. +So far from being offended at the clerical interest in his affairs, the +Frenchman was immensely flattered and encouraged to speak out. + +"And are you quite sure," said Ringfield in conclusion, "are you +perfectly certain that Miss Cordova knows you are a married man? In my +opinion there is small harm in the lady! the poor, thoughtless creature +is too much occupied with her silly clothes and music and trivial +passing of the time to work lasting mischief, but I remember that she +follows a godless calling--she is an actress and has been one longer +than Miss Clairville. You must be careful. It is time Mme. Poussette +was relieved from her charge and came home." + +"But how--come home? Come at this place again? Bigosh--but that will +not do, Mr. Ringfield--at all, sir! Beeg fuss, sure--my wife come at +this place so soon after leave nurse Henry Clairville! Dr. Renaud will +tell you that. No, sir,--Madame is come no more on me, on St. Ignace +at all. When she leave me, go nurse seeck man down with the 'Pic,' she +is no more for me. _Voyez_--m'sieu, I am tired of my wife. I shall +try get a divorce." + +Ringfield was astounded. "You, Poussette! A divorce! From that poor, +unhappy woman who has done you no harm, and will have nothing to live +upon? How can you do such a thing? Why, you must not let your mind +dwell on such a thing for an instant! I do not believe in divorce, or +at least only in rare and exceptional cases, and yours is not one of +these. You understand me--your wife may be delicate, even afflicted, +but no man puts his wife away for these reasons. All the more you must +cherish her, comfort her, keep her by you. If she grew worse you would +be justified in putting her, as we say, under restraint, or in the care +of those best fitted to look after her, but even then you would remain +her husband. That is the unwritten law of our and of all true +religion." + +Poussette spat into the fire and considered. Father Rielle had told +him this in almost the same words many times over; he had left the +Catholic communion for that reason, and had hoped for better things +from the young minister. + +"Don't Methodists divorce?" said this nineteenth-century rural Henry +the Eighth. + +Ringfield moved uneasily in his chair. "They may--they can--they +do--but as I have told you, the causes must be exceptional ones. +Bitter tragedy--abhorrent false conduct, you understand me?" + +The other nodded. "My wife--nothing like that the matter with her. +All the contree, all the reever know Mme. Natalie Poussette--good +woman, sure. No--but see now, m'sieu, now I am talking, and I tell you +my trouble. I'm not so bad _garçon_, you know; kind of fond of drink +now and then--I 'pologize, 'pologize, m'sieu, for you see me a leetle +bit dhrunk. Now--understand. I'm by nature a most loving kind of man, +and I'm fond of leetle children. Yes, sir, bigosh, _excusez_ a leetle +bit of swear--but that is my nature, that is me, and I would like, sir, +some leetle babee of my own. I make quite a bit of monee, m'sieu, with +the 'otel and the mill, and a leetle bet and a leetle horses. +_Bien_--what you say? Very well. What must I do with this +monee--while I live, and if I die? 'Give it to the Church,' Father +Rielle, he say. 'No, sir,' I say!" + +And Poussette jammed a couple of smouldering logs with his heel; they +instantly knit together and sent out a big crackling shower of sparks +that caused both men to retire their chairs farther from the hearth. + +A suspicion crossed Ringfield's mind. "Did you send your wife to nurse +Henry Clairville or did she go of her own accord?" + +"_Certainement_--my wife go herself. Dr. Renaud--come for her. She +will not take the 'pic'. She will take nothing. She will nevaire die, +that woman!" + +The remark was saved from being distasteful to the listener by the fact +that it was given with a melancholy despairing gesture, which to a less +serious person than Ringfield might have been amusing. But his sense +of humour, originally meagre, was not developing at St. Ignace as fast +as it might, and he saw nothing humorous in this view of madame's +immunity from disease. Before he could frame a reply, Poussette went +on:-- + +"So you see, I like you, Mr. Ringfield, and I'm going to pay you good +monee, and I believe you--good Christian man, and I want you to help me +get a divorce. Mme. Poussette (you can say like this to the +Government)--Mme. Natalie Poussette, poor woman--she is so delicate, so +fonny, so--so ill, she cannot have any leetle babee; no leetle children +play round their fader--that's me, Amable Poussette, beeg man, rich +man, good Methodist, built a fine church on top of the Fall. So this +Mister Poussette after many years live with his wife, after long time +he wants to marry another woman and have plenty small babee, play round +in the summertime (here Poussette hushed his voice) under the beeg +trees, and in the water, learn to swim in the reever, splash like old +duck, old feesh! Many a time I feel like go on the dhrunk. Well sir, +nice, bright, young wife, sing, act, dance--we'd have beeg tam +together, and I'd dhrink nothing but tea, sure! Go to Morréall, buy +_tiquette_ on the theatre, ride on the street car, make transfer to +Hochelaga Park, get out, have nice glass beer--just one, m'sieu--go on +the _boutiques_, buy nice bonnett, eh? I have monee to do like that, +but [with the national shrug] I have no wife. I am tole there is +everything very fonny there all year round, but me--I have only been +there two, three tam; no good go alone, meet bad company, get on the +dhrunk then, sure. Bigosh--_excusez_, Mr. Ringfield, there's nothing +like young, handsome wife and plenty babee keep their father straight. +Eh? So I tell you what I want to do. I will be for selling this +place; get three thousand dollar for it; go to Morréall every winter; +perhaps go on that Hotel Champlain or some other nice _maison pension_ +and have big tam--what do you say? That's no bad thing--" Poussette +was very earnest here--"for me--to wish young wife, clever wife, and +leetle babee play round! Before I have the hairs gray, or lose what I +have. _Regardez un peu, m'sieu_!" + +And Ringfield could not refuse to examine the fine head of black hair +thrust towards him. He was touched in spite of clerical scruples. + +"No, no, certainly not a bad thing," he said gently, "not at all an +unnatural thing. I think I understand, Poussette, I can see----" and +Ringfield seemed to feel something in his throat, at any rate he +coughed and hesitated. "I can see that your position has its +difficulties and its--its trials. But, Poussette, we all have those. +We all have to deny ourselves in some way, in some unexpected quarter. +We cannot always have what we want, that is, in fact, at the root of +all religious feeling, and, if I am not mistaken, at the root of all +religious belief as well. If the great Creator of the universe has had +to suffer and deny Himself, as we know, in the past, has He not still +to suffer as He looks on at the wickedness and sinful passions of the +sons of men? The universe is not absolutely happy, perfect--would that +it were! And so this law of suffering runs through everything and +assails everybody. None can hope to escape. We--ministers of the +Gospel--we do not question this; we recognize that it is so, and all we +can do is to impress it upon you who listen to us. I have tried to do +this; I have preached upon this--that to each individual man, woman and +child, there comes--there must and will come a time, when material +success, health, wealth and happiness are non-important, and when moral +issues, when duty, character and conduct are the great essential facts +of life to be met and grappled with. You--Poussette--have been no +exception to this rule in the past--you know the habit of life to which +I refer--and now here is this new trial, this new difficulty about your +wife. Even were I able to do anything for you--because it is a lawyer, +a notary you require, not a minister--I could have nothing to do with +your marrying again. That--I must tell you plainly--is out of the +question. It is not good for man--some men--to live alone; my Church, +my Bible tell me this, and may be I am learning to know it from +experience of such cases as yours; but once married, and married to one +in whom there is no fault, you must not seek to lightly undo what God +and the sacraments of the Church in which you were united have wrought. +I fear, Poussette, that in leaving Father Rielle and coming to me, you +were not acting honestly, openly." + +Poussette, in admiration of his hero's beautiful pastoral diction, felt +no resentment and exhibited no temper. "No fault!" he exclaimed. "Ah, +but there--that is not so, Mr. Ringfield. Look, sir, look now, there +is fault enough--beeg fault--what I have said. That is enough, and I +have plenty monee to make it more than enough." + +"Money--money!" Ringfield exclaimed in his turn, "The root of many +kinds of evil. How much money have you, my friend? You are accounted +rich, as it goes in St. Ignace, at Bois Clair, in Hawthorne, but in +Quebec, in Three Rivers, in Montreal--no! You would soon find the +difference. The rich man of the country might easily become the poor +man of the town; living is expensive there--you might find your +business here--I mean the mill--not pay so well with you absent; in +short, Poussette, you would be foolish to change your way of life! It +is not worth your while to leave St. Ignace, but I know who ought to +go, to be sent to the right about pretty quickly too, and that is--this +man, Edmund Crabbe. What do you think of helping me to get him away? +He's a public nuisance in spite of his education, and we should all do +better without him." + +Ringfield was always torn by painful, shameful jealousy when he thought +of the Englishman, and his entire nature appeared to change. He could +not have called him "Hawtree" or "Mr." for his life; that savoured of +gentility and the fervid past when the man was perhaps a picturesque +figure, quoting the English classics in the guise of an unfortunate +exile. Besides, if he fathomed Poussette's feelings correctly, the +latter in his own jealousy of Crabbe might be found a powerful ally. +The plain truth was--three men wanted the same woman; and vaguely, it +seemed to Ringfield as if he--the worthiest--had chief right to her; he +feared not Poussette, the married and the marred, the uneducated, the +inferior one of her own race, but he still feared the perversely +cultured, doubtlessly gifted, decadent "Oxford man," the social +superior of every one in the village. + +Poussette again reflected. Any latent jealousy he had entertained of +the minister tended to disappear under the fire of these inquisitorial +interviews, and Ringfield might always be credited with having fine +command over his features. + +"Ah, well, m'sieu," said the Frenchman, sagaciously nodding, "Crabbe is +no harm. You get me my divorce; let me marry Ma'amselle Pauline, live +with her at the beeg house, and I'll promise--_parole d'honneur_, +m'sieu--to see no more that man." + +"The Manor House! It will be a long time before any one can live +there, I should think!" said Ringfield impatiently, concealing the +spasm of tortured pride that passed over him as he heard Poussette's +tactics defined. "And what if she will not marry you? Mlle. +Clairville is wedded to the theatre, she tells me, and although of that +I cannot approve, it would not be so bad as marrying a divorced person." + +"But we are great friends, sir! Many a tam I have kept that house, +many, many months, m'sieu, supply well with food--the meat and the +dhrink, the chickenne and the wine. Her brother is _fou_--mad, he has +not one cent monee. How then shall mademoiselle fare? I am good +tenant of her brother, the Sieur, Seigneur of St. Ignace, and I send my +peep there with good things to eat; he will tell you, sir, of the old +tam and all about the _corvée_ when every one in the _paroisse_ do same +thing; one man feesh, another man beeg chickenne or turkey, another +patackes, another flour from the mill. Why, sir, if it was not that I, +Amable Poussette, was good friend there, I don't know, I don't _know_, +m'sieu, how they get along 'tall! Those Archambault--all bad peep--all +bad together; the old woman, the old man, the girl, the boy--all the +same, sure." + +"Who pays them?--You?" + +"No, m'sieu; do better things with my monee." + +"But they don't believe in the _corvée_, surely?" + +"It is like this." And Poussette tapped the other's knee with his fat +fingers, thereby displaying the cornelian ring to much advantage, and +Ringfield saw with satisfaction that on top of the large "C" was cut a +little "S". Had the relations between Poussette and Miss Cordova so +quickly progressed and of what nature were they? The eye of the +Frenchman gave a comprehensive wink. "It is all right, Mr. Ringfield, +all right, sir, Mees Cordova--she put the ring on my finger herself; +she was just fooling last night and I like to be good friends with her; +then she speak for me to Mees Clairville, and so--_vous comprenez_, +sir. But no--I pay no money to these Archambault. It is like this. +There have been Clairville many years at St. Ignace; there have also +been Archambault too a long tam. They say once one was married with +another, but I do not know; I would not ask M'sieu Clairville, and I +would not ask Ma'amselle Pauline. This is a long tam ago, I only speak +of what I hear. I know this, m'sieu--it is not a nice place, not a +nice life for a lady like Mees Clairville. Have you not seen her on +the theatre? You would like to see her at that?" + +"No, decidedly not. I have never seen a play. I do not approve of the +life she leads, and trust that when her brother is better she will not +return to her vocation." + +"But how--she must make some leetle monee of her own, and it is for why +she goes on the theatre. I have seen her act and sing." + +"Can she sing?" + +"Ah, you shall hear. She will sing for me, m'sieu, and +bigosh--_excusez_, Mr. Ringfield--I'll get her sing to-night. And if I +do that, will you, sir, do one great thing for me?" + +Ringfield smiled. "I won't promise, Poussette. You're a deeper +character than I thought you were. At any rate, I'll do nothing about +a divorce--make sure of that, man!" + +Poussette, with large, noble gestures, waved the divorce away. + +"I say nothing. I will do nothing. But if you will be so kind, sir, +as to speak of me to Mees Clairville, should my wife, Mme. +Natalie--die! Tell her, sir, how I am good man, _au fond_, sir, by my +nature; how I love the leetle babee, plenty small babee; how I am kind, +jolly man, by my nature, sir; how I would like to marry with her, give +her good tam. You tell her this, Mr. Ringfield, for me, and make me +your best friend, sure?" + +Half-laughing, half-shocked, and for the moment forgetting his own +views and dreams concerning her, Ringfield acceded to the unusual +request. + +"And remember, m'sieu--tell her I go no more on the dhrunk after I +marry with her--no, sir, go no more 'tall. If we live in Morréall, +tell her I'll go no more on that Hotel Champlain neither; a friend of +mine, Napoleon Legendre, he has a temperance 'otel in Craig Street; I +go there, sir, and never touch even one glass of beer. Tell her that. +And tell her I am for selling this place, and p'raps buy Clairville +Château. Tell her----" + +"Enough, enough, my good Poussette!" cried Ringfield, jumping up as he +heard feminine voices nearing their retreat. "Your virtuous +resolutions do you credit, and may you be enabled to perform and carry +them through--if not to the letter at least in the spirit." + +"And you don't think me _bad, low_ kind of _garçon_, eh?" + +"I do not, indeed." + +"Say"--and Poussette's hand instinctively moved towards the +counter--"you will dhrink a leetle glass beer, just one, sir, on that +with me?" + +"Poussette!" + +With an injured expression, and a rapidity amazing for so fat a man, +Poussette slipped round behind the counter and brought out two bottles +of ginger ale; in a twinkling the tall tumblers were ready and he +offered one to Ringfield with a deep and exaggerated bow. + +"Ah--I see. I beg your pardon, Poussette. I thought you meant the +other kind. Of course I will drink with you and with pleasure." + +The glasses were placed side by side, each taking one and looking +intently at one another. In that moment all selfishness died out of +Ringfield; he felt the importance of the opportunity. + +"Will you shake hands first, Poussette?" + +"_Mais oui_, m'sieu! _Certainement_, but wait, sir, one moment!" + +With repeated rubbings on the clean roller-towel behind him, turning +back of cuffs and a general straightening of the person and freshening +of the attire, the Frenchman at length proffered his fat hand, and +Ringfield clasped it with a firm, bold grasp; his muscles were twice as +strong as those of the Frenchman, for while the one had been chiefly +employed in the kitchen, at a rude desk, and had rusted in long loafing +and idling intervals, the other had maintained his rowing and paddling +and his interest in other athletic pursuits; even a half-dozen lessons +in boxing had he laid to his credit. + +"Now I've got you," said he, smiling, as the fat hand lay tightly +imprisoned in the lean one, "and I'm not going to let you go till you +make me a promise. See here--Poussette--promise me now--not to touch a +drop of liquor again for a whole year. We'll let it go at that; I +won't say anything about beer. By degrees, man, we'll fight the Devil +and all his works. By degrees, and by prayer, and by every argument in +favour of right living that I can bring before you--we'll fight this +thing out together, you and I. Don't wait for some hysterical +occasion, but do your plain duty now, while I hold your hand in mine. +If you should marry again, Poussette, and should ever have those little +children playing about you--what then? You'd want to lead a straight +life then--and before, I know you would. Come--make me the promise +now--and if you break it, as you may do, come to me and tell me of it; +make it a second time and so--each interval may be longer, do you +see--if you 'take the pledge' as it is called, it is likely to be in +public, and your friends and fellow-drinkers hear about it, and +ridicule you and laugh at the idea, and so you are driven to drink +again. What do you say, Poussette?" + +"It is then--just between you and me, sir?" + +"That's the idea. Of course I shall say nothing about it to a third +person. Come--you promise!" + +Poussette seemed uneasy. + +"But--m'sieu--just you and me? That seems, sir, just same thing as go +confess to Father Rielle. Beg pardon, Mr. Ringfield, but bigosh, +sir--that is same sure as go on the confession." + +Ringfield saw the point. + +"I understand, Poussette. You are right. We must not be ashamed of +trying to be good. Nothing done in the corner, eh? Well, then, you +tell--anybody you like." + +"The new lady--Mees Cordova! Will that be all right, sir?" + +"Why Miss Cordova? Oh, well--never mind! So long as I've got your +word, Poussette, the word of an honest man, eh?" + +"I'll thry, sir." + +"That's good. That's all right. You're a _man_, Poussette." + +The Frenchman wiped the tumblers thoughtfully and gazed intently into +space. Perhaps he saw there the future small Poussettes playing out of +doors; perhaps too, he saw the faded, weary woman who bore his name, +still watching the sick man in the old manor house. + +"You see, m'sieu," he said impressively, "if Mme. Poussette was to come +right, if she come again on me here, feex up things around the house, +be well and jolly, I would not send her away, I would not thry get this +divorce. Fonny things happens--but I don't know about my wife. Dr. +Renaud think she will always be the same. It is hard for me, Mr. +Ringfield, sir--me, jolly kind of man--have a wife go like silly person +all over the place, sing and walk by herself, make up songs, fonny +_chansons_. Ah, you don't know how I have hard tam with that one! +But, I'll wait till I see how she is in two, three weeks; the +doctor--he say Henry Clairville almost well now." + +"And it is understood you will leave Miss Clairville alone--and Miss +Cordova. Remember, Poussette, you have engaged me to preach in your +church and to minister here in this parish. I must refuse to do either +if you offend against common decency and morality. Besides--Miss +Clairville will never, I am positive, listen to you. You must see as +well as I do, her pride in her family connexions, however worthless +these are to-day." + +"_Bien_," said Poussette jauntily, "if not Mees Clairville, then Mees +Cordova. That is for why I wear her ring. I can persuade, +sir--bigosh, _excusez_ m'sieu, I can persuade!" + +"So it seems," said the other drily, and would have continued his +lecture had not the two ladies, who had been in the hall laughing and +smiling around the bar door, now appeared boldly on the scene, and +Ringfield made his escape, not before he had promised to look in that +evening during an improvised concert at which Miss Sadie Cordova would +dance, and Miss Clairville act and sing. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +A SICK SEIGNEUR + + "He sits alone + On stormy waters in a little boat + That holds but him and can contain no more!" + + +Meanwhile the house of Clairville was undergoing drastic changes at the +hands of Mme. Poussette. The patient, propped up in his ancient and +tattered bed, was now strong enough to look at books; many hours he +passed in this way while madame roamed over the doleful house, setting +in order and cleaning as well as she could. Her strength, patience and +endurance were remarkable; she could dust, sweep, scrub, hammer, all +day long and never experience fatigue; walls were rubbed down, windows +opened and washed, furniture drawn forth from dusty armoires and +cupboards raked out--and still the work went on, each day bringing to +light some dark, unfamiliar nook, some unexplored room or closet. At +Poussette's she never worked at all; sensitiveness to strangers and +fear of the servants mastered her; at Clairville she worked +incessantly, and when her nursing was done, entered upon her labours in +this Augean house with steady passionless activity. + +Clairville was badly pitted and every remnant of good looks had left +him, yet on the first day that he could put his feet to the floor he +would have sent madame into the front room, saying:-- + +"Bring me the suit of clothes you will see hanging on a nail in the +wall". + +She stared at him, knowing his weakness of body better than he knew it +himself. + +"What for, m'sieu?" + +"What for? What are clothes for, idiot of a woman! To put on, to +wear. I shall habit myself as a gentleman. Faith--it is time, too!" + +"But, m'sieu----!" + +"Bring me that suit, I say." + +Madame hesitated, because she had removed the suit in question a week +before to an old trunk in an empty room--she was not very clear which +one--and it would take her some minutes to find it. + +"If m'sieu will get back into his bed----" + +"I will do nothing so foolish. I was thinking of getting up. I _am_ +up and should be holding a levee-- How do you do, my Lord +Marquis?--pray enter. M. le Chevalier de Repentigny; open there for my +friend, the Intendant! Gentlemen, I greet you. You perceive me at my +toilet--but these lackeys are too slow! Fetch me my clothes, I say! +Ah--misery! I cannot stand! I cannot--cannot even sit! Help me to +bed, you woman there--help me, quick!" + +And madame, instead of running for the suit of Court clothes, managed +to lay Henry Clairville down again before he fainted. However, the +next day he was slightly stronger and the next and the next, so that on +the fifth day he was nearly as well as ever, and again demanding the +suit, she went to the room upstairs and hunted for it. Its colour was +a faded claret, and lacings of dingy silver appeared on the front and +round the stiffened skirt that stood out from the waist--a kind of cut +to make even a meagre man look well among his fellows; a three-cornered +hat went with it, and into this relic of strenuous days, madame soon +assisted her charge. + +"How does it fit?" he inquired anxiously + +"It is without doubt large at present for m'sieu, but m'sieu has been +ill. After a while it will fit better." + +"And how do you think I look in it?" he continued, gazing with +fringeless expressionless eyes on her vacant but concerned countenance. +"You see, to meet these gentlemen I must at least try to appear as well +as they do. A Sieur de Clairville must guard the appearance at all +costs! Where is my sister, Pauline-Archange--why does she not come and +assist me in the entertainment of the Court? Of the Court, do I say?" + +Here Clairville drew himself up as well as he could, and winking at his +nurse gravely informed her that the most Christian King, Louis of +France, being in North America for the good of his health, might call +at the manor to see its master at any moment. + +"If you will be very secret, my good woman, I will tell you this +further, but it must be between us only--His Most Christian Majesty of +France is just recovering from the 'Pic'. But do not alarm yourself; I +have not been with him much. Fear not, madame, neither for yourself +nor me." + +Madame clasped her hands and looked upwards; she seemed to be crying, +and yet she shed no tears. She knew there was something wrong. _She_ +was wrong. The Sieur de Clairville was wrong. The old habit of +prayer, fervid, poetic, Catholic prayer, asserted itself and +accordingly the mystic rosary of Our Lady returned to her. + +"_Priez pour nous, sainte Mère de Dieu. Mère aimable, priez pour nous. +Mère adorable, priez pour nous. Vierge puissante, priez! Vierge +fidèle, priez pour nous. Rose mystérieuse, priez pour nous. Maison +d'or, Etoile du matin, priez pour nous. Santé des infirmes, priez pour +nous._" + +Henry Clairville listened. Gradually he sank into the chair, and the +tears, the slow, painful, smarting tears of weak mind and middle +age--coursed down his thin, pitted cheeks. Madame sat down too and +sobbed. + +"Oh, have I offended you, m'sieu? Why did I pray? What makes us pray +at all? Is there One who hears a poor woman like me? But she might +hear you, m'sieu, a grand gentleman like you--and so I prayed." + +"A grand gentleman! Thank you--madame, thank you," said he, trembling. +"I believe I am that, or I was once. I have been very ill, I see. You +must not take any notice if I go a little out of my head; it is +nothing; Pauline is well accustomed to it, and so may you be if you +remain here long. Only be lively with me, be always lively and pray +aloud no more. I do not like these prayers. But why are you here? +Where are my servants--Maman Archambault, Antoine, and the rest?" + +"The servants of m'sieu left when m'sieu was taken sick." + +"And you are doing their work?" + +"As well as I can, m'sieu, when I can leave you. Just a little work I +do, to amuse me, keep me from thinking." + +Clairville trembled again and could not lift his eyes to this afflicted +patient creature. + +"I recollect now," he murmured, "you were always a kind woman. It was +you who took the child away?" + +"It was I, m'sieu." + +"Eight years ago, was it not?" + +"Nine, m'sieu." + +"Nine, then. It was the year of the great snow. Does she--does my +sister ever go to see it?" + +"I cannot tell, m'sieu. She is not in St. Ignace often, and m'sieu +knows that when ma'amselle goes abroad it is to Montreal and to the +theatre." + +"But you--you know about it, if it lives, if it is well, and has--has +its mind?" + +"It lives--yes, truly, m'sieu--it is never ill and it has its mind!" + +"Mon Dieu!" muttered Henry Clairville. "_That_ has its mind and I--I +am sometimes bereft of mine. And you--you----" he pointed to madame, +and though innocent and unoffending she quailed before the seigneurial +finger. "You even--you woman there--you have not always your mind! +Oh--it is dreadful to think of it! I would be ill again and forget. +Tell me--is there, is there any resemblance? Say no, madame, say no!" + +"I never go to Hawthorne, m'sieu, I cannot tell you. But I do not +think so. I have never heard. They are nearly all English in that +parish; they would not concern themselves much about that--the poor +_bébé_, the poor Angéle. God made her too, m'sieu. Perhaps some day +she will be taken away by mademoiselle to a place where such children +are cared for. That is why Mademoiselle Pauline works so hard at the +theatre to make much money." + +"She would need to!" burst from Henry Clairville. "What she does with +the money she makes I do not know, it never comes this way! I cannot +make money. She ought to remember me sometimes, so that I could +establish this place afresh, find new servants, for example. +Alas--what shall I do without them?" + +He raised his voice and the old peevish tone rang out. + +"Be tranquil, m'sieu. It is I--I myself, nursing you, who shall do all +that is required." + +He sighed heavily, then a sudden fire leapt into his eyes. "Let us see +how far I can walk. Open that door, I wish to see if I can cross the +hall." + +"After so long, m'sieu! It is not possible. May St. Anne give you +courage, for it is assuredly six or seven years since m'sieu has left +his apartment." + +"Nine--nine!" said he impatiently. "The year the child came into this +world. I vowed then and all St. Ignace knows I have kept the vow--I +would never leave my room again." + +"M'sieu, all know, it is true, of the vow, but none know the reason for +it. I have kept my faith, m'sieu." + +"But she, my sister, she is so flighty, so excitable--she may have told +a thousand times!" + +"I think not, m'sieu." + +"Father Rielle is unsuspecting; likewise Dr. Renaud. Well, well, who +gains by considering evil? Not one so weak and battered as I. +Nevertheless, I will walk, madame. I will conquer this fear and this +weakness and will show the strength and temper of a Clairville, of a De +Clairville, I should say. Open then, madame." + +Thus with his black skull-cap on his bald head, and the faded claret +and silver habit upon his shrunken limbs, he tottered over the +threshold of his disorderly, uncared for room which he had occupied +without one moment's intermission, night and day, summer and winter, +for eight years, ten months and four days, and madame, preceding him, +watched in an agony of fear but also of hope--yonder was a new field +for her powers of cleansing and purifying. Dust in thick rolls, +cobwebs in floating black triangular and looped clusters, stale odours +and rubbish--the apartment which had served as bedroom, dining-room, +_salon_ and study so long, would naturally be in a disgraceful +condition. Henry Clairville's ghost it was that passed from that room +to the hall, but the ghost walked--more than Henry Clairville had done +for nine years. + +The door of the chief _salon_ was open, and he entered, Mme. Poussette +assisting him, still with clasped hands and awestruck eyes, and, +although all the changes which had been wrought by her indefatigable +fingers could not be appreciated by him, as it was so long since he had +seen the room, he missed something. The suit, hanging for years upon +its common nail, till it was encrusted with flyspecks, riddled with +moth-holes, and tarnished, rusty and faded, now covered his meagre +frame, but the other things he looked for he failed to find. He gazed +at the walls, perceiving the one old, cracked and discoloured painting. + +"Where are the others?" he demanded piteously. "There were four +others, all valuable, all of great value." + +"There was but this one when I came, m'sieu." + +"Then Pauline has sold them--to keep that wretched child alive, to pay +for its board and keep and _tendresse--tendresse_, perhaps, on part of +some one while I--I have been neglected and kept short of the things I +might have had--the wine, the comforts, the fruits! Ah--but I am a +most unfortunate man, I who should be seigneur of the parish! Is it +not so, madame? Here have I been starving and yet--there was money, +you see--my sister had money all the time!" + +Madame's lips moved; she said nothing. Far from having suffered +privation during her stay at Clairville, she had been able to provide +both for herself and the invalid, food and drink of the best quality +procurable in that part--the Archambaults having hoarded large +quantities of the supplies sent up by Poussette's "peep". The love of +acquisition for its own sake had spread even among the youngest members +of the family, and had one demanded suddenly of any of them the +simplest meal, one would have been met by violent protestations that +there was nothing in the house! To such an extent had this smuggling +and hoarding spread that in looking through the kitchen and cellars +madame had encountered a great store of provisions, mostly in good +condition; sacks and barrels full of vegetables, apples, winter pears +and nuts; tins full of bread and cakes, some mouldy, some fresh, and +various kegs and bottles full of wine and spirits. + +"Then," he continued, "where are my choice books, my _éditions de +luxe_? There were some splendid volumes here, rare, you understand, +worth money. She must have sold them also. I recollect when she +begged me to let her take them out of my room. And a violin--of the +most superb--that is gone! You know nothing of all these?" + +"I know nothing--truly--m'sieu." + +"And my cats? Who has dared to interfere with my cats, my dear +friends? Le Cid--Chateaubriand--Phédre--Montcalm--eh? What has been +done with them? And the doors, the little doors I had made for +them--nailed up, I see! Ah--ah, madame--this is your work! You have +killed them! Say then, am I not right? Miserable wretch of a woman!" + +He was staggering now about the room between weakness and temper and +she assisted him to a chair. + +"You have killed them!" he gasped repeatedly. + +"No, m'sieu, not one. Indeed, m'sieu, I speak the truth. The cats of +m'sieu were fourteen; how could I kill so many? No, but I fed them and +put them away in the barns--yes--and nailed up the little doors, it is +true, for I could not do my work with the cats of m'sieu always between +the feet. I spoke of them once to you, because there were two who +wished to enter your room, lie on the bed----" + +"Yes, yes! Le Cid and Montcalm. Good cats, good friends!" + +"Lie on the bed, but I could not allow them. Thus, for three days they +sat outside the door of m'sieu." + +"And the peacock? Is it that I shall find him banished also when I +walk forth from my house? Mlle. Pauline has rid herself of him?" + +"Not so, m'sieu. I have cared for the bird and indeed for all the +animals." + +Clairville, quieter now, was thinking. + +"Did some one sing to me about cats as I lay there on my bed?" + +Madame reddened. + +"Yes, m'sieu--it was I who made a song about the 'Cats of Clairville'. +To amuse myself only, m'sieu, I often do like that." + +He looked at her, then down at his speckled, bony hands. + +"We are both mad, I think," he said in the most matter-of-fact way, +"but you, of course, more so than I am. Well, to-day I have walked in +here. To-morrow I shall walk all over this house, and next week, +madame, next week I shall walk to the village--well, half-way. Some +day I may even go to church. Oh--you shall see, you shall see!" + +And with that, natural fatigue, engendered by the wholly unusual +exercise intervened; his nurse moved a sofa into the hall, and there he +slept for many hours, while she routed out his room as well as she +could; his physical recovery from that day was miraculously rapid, and +in a fortnight he was as quick and light upon his feet and as much +given to the open air and walking as he had been previously doggedly +convinced that he could not use his legs and that the least breath or +whiff of fresh air would destroy him. So much for the after-effects of +the "Pic" and the sweet uses of adversity. + +The fine November days that followed were the days that Canada can give +in wonderful perfection--when the thick canopy of leaves has been +caught up, shrivelled, and disappeared, when a great expanse of sky, +forest and river lies before the enraptured vision, with every twig and +branch, every stump and hollow in the ground, every undulation and +hillock of withered grass, showing as clearly cut and sharply defined +as in winter, while the air is frequently warmer than in June and a +singular mellow haze fills all the forest paths. Now can be closely +seen the different forms of the trees, each trunk and each limb no less +interesting than the brilliant foliage which lately enveloped them; the +abandoned nests are bare, some on the ground transfixed between the +bushes, or pendant from the branches of tall trees. The evergreens of +various kinds supply the note of colour which alone gives hope and +promises relief from neutral brown and grey, and underneath what once +was a leafy forest arcade are all the roots of spring--the spotted +erythronium, the hepatica, the delicate uvularia, the starry +trientalis. Through such spacious aisles and along such paths of +promise Henry Clairville walked every day while the fine weather +lasted, wearing the ancient suit and the black skull-cap, and often +attended as far as Lac Calvaire by the white peacock and two cats, and +always watched from window or door by the faithful Mme. Poussette. +Fear of contagion kept the Archambaults away, all save Antoine, who, +constituting himself a bodyguard for Pauline in the village, took +messages to and fro the Manor House. + +When M. Clairville had seen the stores and provisions in his cellar, +sufficient, with a few additions, for the entire winter months at +least, he demanded of madame if she would remain with him and manage +his house, and the poor woman assented with delight. Poussette did not +want her; she had no place in the world, no ties; only occasionally was +she required to nurse sick people in the village; here was a +comfortable remote haven where she might be of use, busied in +exercising those faculties remaining to her, which at Poussette's were +rotting and rusting away. She remained therefore, to cook and wait +upon him; a new existence sprang up for both, and it was when this sort +of thing had lasted for a month that the parish priest, Father Rielle, +thought it his duty to call. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +FATHER RIELLE + + "--his moods + Of pain were keen as those of better men, + Nay, keener, as his fortitude was less." + + +The writer has elsewhere stated that the Roman Catholic clergy in this +part of the world are easily divided into two classes, the rotund, rosy +and jolly, and the thin, ascetic and reserved; the _curé_ of St. Ignace +belonged to the latter, and possessed a strongly marked characteristic +face, the droop of his bitter mouth and the curve of his chiselled nose +being almost Dantesque in effect. He had conserved a type of feature +which, common enough up to the present, seems to be in danger of +extinction; the passing of the aquiline, the slow disappearance of the +Roman nose, are facts patent to thoughtful observers of national +traits. Any contemporaneous collection of portraits of representative +men in the higher walks of life reveals the fact that this fine racial +curve is rapidly becoming extinct. From the Duke of Wellington down, +this nose has been associated with men prominent in military and naval +affairs, in literature (notably poetry and criticism) and in finance +and diplomacy, until the possession of such a significant organ has +become almost the _sine qua non_ of an individual destined to be famous +or successful. Varieties of course existed, such as when combined with +beetling brows and sunken eyes one recognized the professor or +arch-critic of his generation. Or, when taken with the square +forehead, thin mouth and visionary eyes of the military genius, one saw +some great general. Or simply existing in some silly scion of good +family, and meaning nothing whatever, in this case usually over-high at +the thin bridge, and in profile far too strong for the weak rest of the +face. In women of gentle extraction this nose was found beautifully +proportioned. In belles of the mid-Victorian era were the lineaments +of Caesar clearly revealed, associated with the delicacy of colouring +and rounded chin and cheek which redeemed them from hard masculinity, +so that fifty years ago in any representative gathering of England's +fairest and noblest the observer would note a similarity of feature, +especially in profile, between peers and peeresses, poets and +poetesses, statesmen and the _grandes dames_ of society. Caricatured, +it lived in the drawings of Leech and Du Maurier. Taken seriously, it +inspired creative artists both of pen and brush when dealing with the +heroic. Superficial writers confused it with the Hebraic nose, and in +prints of criminal and depraved characters one frequently found it +distorted and wrenched to conditions of ugliness. Tennyson and the +latest murderer apparently owned the same facial angle, if one +corrected the droop of the eyebrow, the curve of the nostril, the set +of the ear. Thus the Roman or aquiline nose made itself and its +possessor known to the world. Other noses might, if they liked, take a +back seat! this nose never. Sala, Lamb, Kingsley--all had varieties of +the nose. The American variant is seen in hundreds of nineteeenth +century writers, preachers, New England farmers, old Cape Cod +characters, Gloucester fishermen, actors, especially of tragic mould; +showmen, lecturers, bankers--the nose has prospered in the new world. +The significance of the feature is matched by its endurance, by the +persistency with which it appears in every decade up to the present. + +For with the opening of a new century the nose, aquiline in its purest +state, equine with its accompaniment of cruel gums and sharp teeth in +its worst, seems on the point of disappearing. The contemporary +portraits of great men and beautiful women no longer display it. There +is a new nose. It is to be hoped that it retains the powers with which +the organ was originally endowed; for example, we suppose that it still +can detect and appreciate, repulse and define odours. But as a +sign-post showing the path to glory, as an index of force of character +or intellect, it is practically useless. The new nose is modest, +retiring, seeketh not its own, is never puffed up. You would know it +for a nose, certainly, but its ample and aristocratic proportions are +wanting; it lacks a bridge, is spineless, immature, unfinished. Yet it +is set in the faces of many eminent thinkers and workers among the +younger men; it is already allied to keenness of vision and talent, and +may or may not be associated with birth and good breeding. The query +is--is it a new nose, or only one that has always been with us, but is +now gradually supplanting the old one? Did the nose aquiline largely +represent class, and does the phenomenon of the new semi-straight, +semi-nothing nose represent the intrusion of mass? Against this timid +and, it may be, spurious generalization, one may pit the working-man +with the nose of a duke, and the young colonial ruler with the +unformed, delicate feature of a school-girl. So we accept the fact +that in our own day types are passing. + +The English face is going. It has served its turn, perhaps. Infusion +of American and colonial blood will help to change it. The high-nosed +country gentleman or landed noble, with Berserk or Viking blood in his +veins, finds that, like Alice in Wonderland, it takes all he can do to +keep where he is, and the work entailed takes something, a good deal, +out of him. One thing goes, then another; finally, he casts away his +birthright, the arch or bridge of his nose, and his son and the younger +members of his family appear shorn of that important feature. The +plebeian nose, so long as it is neither pug nor pig, is safer, better. +Men are not afraid of it. Syndicates and boards breathe more freely +when the barriers of nose are broken down, and a good mediocrity of +feature may yet avert a war or preserve a treaty. At all events, a +study of our chief contemporaries will bear out a considerable portion +of this reasoning. The beauties of society and the stage have a +leaning to noses tiptilted like the petals of a flower, or to a nose +which is a kind of modification of the Greek, frequently found among +Americans. For instance, in Canada there is fast growing up a new type +of head, clean-shaven, firm, expressionless young faces, who bring +their thick, straight dark hair and blue-grey eyes from the country to +the town. They are forsaking the plough and the roadside school for +the warehouse and the pestle and mortar. It is not openly reported of +such that they would rather wear a black coat and starve than wear +fustian and do well, to quote Thomas Hardy, but the stress of things +drives them. The rural communities are dull; amusements are lacking; +there seems nothing to live for outside work. Nature poets and +wild-animal delineators are not among these set, earnest, +straight-featured faces. The former are more likely to be denizens of +cities. In this slightly dour Canadian face there are but few aquiline +noses, and yet such is the danger of generalizing that perhaps the +first people readers of this page meet after perusing it might be a +group of students, none with Celtic hair and eyes and all with Roman +contours. Likewise, on opening the current number of a leading musical +journal, the long, high, prominent nasal organ of Sir Edward Elgar +confronts us, whose peculiar cast of thought confirms the impression +that spirituality, fine artistic conception and capacity to achieve are +still the dower of those possessing this fast-disappearing feature. +Ringfield belonged to the tribe of straight-nosed, grey-eyed +thinkers--a finished contrast to Father Rielle, whose worn profile +suggested the wormwood and the gall. Looks, however, not being in all +cases indications of the character within, the priest was an +exceedingly simple and earnest man, constitutionally timid, and +physically frail; thus, he passed for what is known as a "deep" man, +when he was nothing of the sort, and although it may be a mooted point +whether in a Catholic community the local priest has or has not the +entire conscience of that community at his mercy by means of the +confessional, it was certain that there were a few things that Father +Rielle did not know. Had he been social, convivial, fond, like most of +his brother priests, of a game of cards, of good living and long +drinking, he might have worked more reforms in the countryside, and +holding the reins of priestly government stern and tight prevented some +lapses from the moral code. That is to say, a worse man might have +achieved better results, but as it was not in his nature to haunt +Poussette's, make friends with the guides and call at unconventional +hours upon his parishioners, he missed several revelations that fell to +Ringfield's share. Crabbe was not upon his visiting list, nor Pauline +of late years; for Henry Clairville he entertained a certain sad +respect, as for a gentleman and landed proprietor fallen from grace +indeed, but by the Will of God rather than by personal shortcomings. +His tendency to fatalism was Calvinistic in its intensity, and he trod +his accustomed path baptizing, marrying, burying, with the sour curve +of his thin profile growing sourer every day. Thus this silent, +censorious-looking priest presented a strong contrast to the optimistic +young Ontarian, yet one emotion was common to them both--Father Rielle +had for years nursed a hopeless passion for Miss Clairville. + +It happened that the knowledge of Mme. Poussette's remaining on at +Clairville as housekeeper to its master came to Father Rielle as +something of a shock. Certain things are right and certain things are +wrong in certain places; some things are right and some things are +wrong in all places. Madame had a husband who, although plainly tired +of her, had not yet openly neglected her; she also had a good home, and +in her condition of mind it was not wise, according to the priest, that +she should leave her husband and home to live with Henry Clairville. +Dr. Renaud was questioned, but as medical men are everywhere less +concerned with the conventions than are lawyers or priests, he only +intimated that madame was probably happier at Clairville than in her +own home, and that he saw no reason for disturbing the arrangement. + +"But," said Father Rielle in their common tongue, "is it because the +wife of Poussette is a little afflicted, light of head while sad of +heart, that rules and customs no longer apply to her? I take it--it +will make a scandal in the village and every man who is sick must +expect some other man's wife to come in and care for him, and finally +live in his house and take care of it. Our society may be small, but +in some matters it is best conducted as are large communities. I think +M. de Clairville should be instructed that his conduct is wrong." + +"You call him 'de' Clairville, I see," replied the doctor from his +buggy outside Gagnon's carpenter shop. "Well, it does not matter! +Faith--he is both vicious and mad enough to be in truth the seigneur of +all the parish as he styles himself--as nobles and seigneurs used to +go. I have little knowledge of such myself! I am a plain man! my +father was Renaud the harness-maker of Three Rivers. First I was fond +of horses, then I was fond of gathering herbs and flowers, then I was +fond of mixing medicines and quacking my friends when they were ill; +then my mother saved some money and sent me to college and then one +fine day I awoke, and I am Dr. Renaud! And you--you are one of the +three Rielle brothers, likewise from Three Rivers; one is a notary, one +a priest--yourself--and the youngest keeps the Hôtel Jacques Cartier at +Sorel-en-haut. That is funny, that! You should have made him +something else." + +"It is true," replied the priest mildly, "I am not in love with his +calling, but people who travel must be lodged. I use his place myself +once or twice a year; it is the Will of God that such places must be; +it is clean, and his wife, at the age of seventeen, already cooks well; +he is lately married at the age of thirty-five. I myself am four years +older. But of M. de Clairville I would say--that he must be brought to +see that he is doing this poor Mme. Poussette a wrong, and I was going +to ask you if you would drive me out to visit him this afternoon. That +is, if, as I hear, it is quite safe to go there now." + +"It would afford me pleasure indeed, _mon père_," said Dr. Renaud, "but +unfortunately I am waiting here for the young man who has charge of the +new church by the river,--Poussette's fancy, Mr. Ringfield." + +"You are driving him to Clairville?" A quick jealousy animated the +priest's eager question. + +"I am, but we can make room for you. Certainly, my friend, we are +neither of us so very stout and you are thin; you shall sit in our +laps--oh yes, I take no denial! You shall come with us, Father Rielle, +and we three shall descend upon this sick seigneur of yours and his +housekeeper and see what they are doing. Drive her back in the +evening, if you like." + +While the priest hesitated, Ringfield and Poussette appeared at the +door, and the instant the latter heard of the expedition he also wished +to go. + +"I cannot see why!" cried Dr. Renaud angrily. "One _charrette_ will +not hold us all; it is going to snow and I must get back before dark. +I'm calling here to leave an order for Gagnon about a coffin for old +Telesphore Tremblay who died yesterday, and I have promised to see his +poor wife to-night." + +"Then I shall take my own buggy and Mr. Ringfield can go with me. The +_curé_ can go with you, sir." + +"Well, if the whole village wishes to pay its respects to a crazy man +all at the same time, let them come!" roared the irascible doctor. +"You didn't care to go till you saw us going. But put your horse in, +put him in; we will wait for you." + +"_Bien_, M'sieu! I have three hams and a sack of potatoes; they shall +go too." + +This dialogue had been overheard by Pauline, sitting at cards with Miss +Cordova in the front room, and with her natural impetuosity she jumped +up, declaring that if Henry were well enough to see "these others," he +was well enough to see her. Her impulsive movements sent the cards and +counters flying up through the air, and one card hit Miss Cordova on +the left eye directly over the pupil. As lightly as if flicked by a +clever finger, but as unerringly as if deliberately and viciously aimed +at her, one of the four sharp points of cardboard selected her dark eye +for its target, and with a scream she too sprang up, overturning the +table and seizing Pauline by the shoulder. The pain and distress were +considerable, and Miss Clairville, opening the window, called for Dr. +Renaud, who came at once to look at the eye and recommended bathing, +bandages and complete rest. The exquisite tenderness of the inflamed +organ gave Miss Cordova so much annoyance that after ten minutes she +retired to her room, and the doctor again proposed himself ready to +start for Lac Calvaire. The weather, fine and mild for so long, was +changing now with every hour, and it was becoming strangely dark +overhead. + +"Whoever comes with me must prepare for a storm," said he, glancing at +the blackening sky, "only a few flurries of snow, perhaps, but one +cannot tell--it may prove more." + +"You are sure there can be no danger of infection?" asked Ringfield, +with an anxious glance at Pauline, who had raced to her room, stuck +imitation solitaires in her ears, donned a worn-out but well-fitting +seal jacket and muff and a dashing black and scarlet hat, and now stood +in the village street--the embodiment of piquant French +womanhood--quite conscious of her charms and insufferably weary of +having no audience to show them off to! A certain disdain sprang into +her treatment of Ringfield at this time, and it was a question with +her, should he ever ask her to be his wife, whether she would not +inevitably tire of the high aims and lofty ideals he no doubt would +impose upon her. + +"You don't suppose I'd be going if there were, do you?" she remarked in +English tartly, curving her arching black brows at him; "how many are +we--five? That's three too many, in my opinion. Father Rielle--I go +with you in Mr. Poussette's buggy; you others there, you three +messieurs--you can go how you please." + +The priest flushed, then a sudden glance passed between him and +Ringfield, and in that look each knew what the other wished and hated +him for it! Still, Father Rielle followed Pauline instantly, and there +was no opposition as she lightly leapt into Poussette's buggy, and with +a wave of her muff, adorned by a bright scarlet bow, two of the five +were soon out of sight. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +THE STORM + + "Snow is at the door + Assaulting and defending, and the wind, + A sightless labourer, whistles at his work." + + +Dr. Renaud now called on the minister and Poussette to make haste; he +had been delayed by the accident to Miss Cordova and already large flat +flakes were falling. + +"Just the size of half-dollars, eh? The idea is, Poussette, to bring +madame home; that is to say, the _curé's_ idea, but he's gone off with +another woman. I suppose you are jealous now, of this one I mean, not +the other." + +"Not me, much. Father Rielle, he's no harm. He cannot marry +mademoiselle nor any one else; besides, he has no money. Mlle. +Pauline--she is for the money." + +"Ah--ha, I believe you. We used to read or sing, I forget which, at +college, about 'Les beaux yeux de sa Cassette'. I do not know the +origin of the quotation, but you understand, Mr. Ringfield, what it +means, and our young lady in front there has learnt in a bitter school +the value of money. _Cassette--cassette_--cash-box; you will see, if +she ever settles down, it will be, as our friend Poussette says, for +the money." + +Ringfield's throat was dry, he did not speak; his stern gaze, directed +at the leafless landscape over which the first slow snows were falling, +gave no indication of the tumult within; besides, the aspect of the +road and condition of the elements were calculated to banish personal +emotions, for even Poussette's hilarity was silenced by the increasing +velocity of the wind and the darkness dropping upon them. It was only +five miles to the _métairie_, but at the end of the second mile the sky +was absolutely blank and the snow so thick that heaps of it lay on the +horse's flanks and on their own laps and hands. It kept increasing at +such magical rate that the roadway was obscured and twice Dr. Renaud +found himself out on the rocky plateau at the left, instead of the +middle path. The priest and Miss Clairville had vanished in front, but +the three men could hear the sound of a horse on the slabs of rock +behind them, coming very swiftly too, and in a few minutes a second +buggy dashed madly by. The horse was running away, no doubt badly +frightened by the violence of the storm, and Ringfield recognized Mr. +and Mrs. Abercorn in the agonized couple holding bravely on, while the +excitable little mare dashed through the snow. + +"My hands are freezing!" cried Dr. Renaud. "This is a big surprise--a +regular blizzard. We'll have to stop somewhere till it's over. I +never beheld such darkness--at three o'clock in the afternoon--nor such +sudden heaps of snow. Lucky for us if it does not turn to hail." He +had scarcely uttered the words when the snow flagged, ceased to fall, +then the hail began. Colder and colder grew the air with a strange, +unnatural feel in it as if in the proximity of icebergs, or of the hour +closest on dawn, and the hail, at first small and round, pretty and +harmless, came gently chattering about the horse's ears and back, came +faster and larger, came at last too fast and too large, came as stones +come that are flung by enemies and rioting mobs of people anxious for +vengeance. The doctor was afraid for his horse; one ear was cut and +bleeding and the animal could no longer face the blinding streams of +hail; he was covered and the men all got out, burying their heads in +their coats; but Ringfield, the worst off, since he had come without +gloves or muffler, was for ever casting anxious glances ahead, which +Poussette and the doctor understood. + +"I _bette_ you!" cried the former; "Mr. Ringfield, sir, the _curé_--he +don't know what to do with Miss Clairville. He'll never get her home, +sure. He's no good with a horse--my horse too--I guess we better go +after him, eh?" + +"Stay where you are!" shouted the doctor. "Farther along the forest +begins again, and these hailstones are snapping off the branches as if +they had been slashed with axes. I can hear. You may be killed. +Surely this cannot last long!" + +But there seemed no diminution of the hail; it lay a foot deep in +pieces the size of marbles or of small apples, and the autumnal grasses +and bushes of juniper and sumach were beaten flat with the rocky ground +from which they derived scant sustenance. + +The three men were by this time suffering greatly from the sudden and +unexpected cold, and as it was impossible to continue the drive to +Calvaire in face of the biting hail, they were about to attempt to +return to St. Ignace when the darkness partly lifted, the air grew +gradually milder, and streams of steady rain came pouring down; +overhead the clouds met, charged, and thunder raged at intervals. + +Ringfield, now greatly alarmed and fancying he heard noises from the +wood in front, even cries of distress, could no longer be detained, but +bidding farewell to the others strode forward in the direction of the +forest, slipping as he walked and already drenched to the skin, his +clothes freezing upon him and clogging his difficult steps. +Fortunately, for one who did not know the locality well, the daylight +had partly returned. He judged that by keeping to the road he ran no +risk of losing his way, but when a turn revealed another road, he was +naturally perplexed, as the face of the country had greatly changed +since he had made his last visit to the Manor House. Afraid to stand +long, for trees were thick about him and the lightning still flashing, +he went on again up the new road, and after a few minutes running saw a +deserted barn in a hollow and made for it. In this dell or glade the +trees had been thinned out, either by forest fires or by the owner, but +one tall pine remained beside the forlorn and ruined barn as if for +companionship--a lonely sentinel. + +Ringfield, wet and shivering, rushed up to the barn door, and finding +it half-open had nearly flung himself through it when he was arrested +by voices within, or rather a voice--that of a woman. He did not +immediately think of Miss Clairville, for no horse nor conveyance were +outside, but, had he listened more carefully, he would have recognized +her educated accents; as it was, in a moment or two she herself came to +the door, and upon seeing Ringfield started, but asked him to enter. + +The barn contained some old boxes and rusty tools, a short ladder led +to a loft above full of dry hay, and there Miss Clairville explained +she had taken refuge when the hail first began. + +"But Father Rielle----" said Ringfield looking vaguely around. + +"Oh, you shall not meet with him here. He left me and said he would +try to go on to Clairville, get a fresh horse--Poussette's was badly +cut--and come back for me. You have not met him?" + +"No, then you are alone?" + +"Of course, and neither wet nor frightened, while you appear to be +both!" said she, gaily at first, but catching her breath as she +observed his stern, anxious gaze. + +Ringfield, drawing a deep sigh, suddenly lost his self-control. + +"Oh, how you torture me!" he cried, extending his arms as if to enfold +her, then dropping them as he recollected his condition. + +"Torture you? You--Mr. Ringfield, so calm and self-contained, the +Reverend Mr. Ringfield of St. Ignace! I torture YOU! Why what have I +done to-day, then? Have I made the weather or caused the storm? Is it +MY snow or MY rain, or MY hail, and _ecoutez bien_--MY thunder and MY +lightning raging there?" + +"No--no--but to run off like that, and with that poor priest--poor +fellow--I saw how it was with him! You are sure he is not here now?" +Ringfield cast an eye up at the loft. + +"Certainly not! Would he let you talk like that about him? But listen +to this fearful storm! How can we think of anything else--and you--you +so wet--wet and tired! It seems a little calmer now; perhaps you had +better try again and walk on to Clairville. There you may fall in with +the _curé_ or Dr. Renaud and then come back for me." + +"I will not leave you in this desolate place for a moment! Yet I feel +as if we were surrounded by people--why is it--I cannot understand why! +To whom were you talking while I was outside?" + +"Ah, there, _tais-toi, mon ami_!" + +Miss Clairville pushed him down on one of the boxes and tried to draw +off his stiff and dripping coat, but he restrained her; their hands +meeting sent him beside himself, and, seizing one, he pressed a warm, +lingering kiss upon it. Adept in these matters, Pauline kept up a gay +chatter, and as she drew her hand away seemed only uneasy--neither +fluttered nor deeply moved. + +"I assure you," she exclaimed brightly, "I am quite safe here. I am +not in the least wet, my old coat has done me good service--_voyez_--my +feet are dry, and all I would ask is a light to cheer me while you are +absent, but that I cannot have and I must be content. Although that +unnatural dark is over, the shades of the true night will soon be +falling and it is lonely here. So the sooner you go the better." + +"But where can I go? Will it not be better to remain here with you +until Father Rielle returns?" + +"I think not--he is slow--that priest! See--if you go now, you will +surely overtake him. Keep to your right after regaining the road and +you will soon find the lake." + +"Well, then, I will go," said Ringfield rising. "But if I might speak +to you now, might tell you all I hope and fear and think almost +continually, if I might ask you, too, to think about it, and tell +me--tell me--it is so difficult for me to say what I wish to--you seem +so gay, so satisfied, so----" His voice broke off, for her face +changed ominously, and the strongest argument he could have adduced, +the folding of her to his heart, the silent embrace which should make +her his, was still denied him. To the outsider there might have been a +touch of humour in the situation, but not so to either person +concerned. She echoed his last words. + +"Satisfied! Me! You think I am that? My God, yes, I have to say it +in English--it means more! I--satisfied! Happy--you will say next, I +suppose. Me--happy and satisfied. I'm the most miserable woman on +God's earth! I have had ideals, aspirations--but how could I fulfil, +achieve them, living in this place and with my temper, my heredity. +Look at Henry. I tell you he is mad--mad and worse! Think of having +lived with him! Think of Clairville! You do not know half of what I +have gone through!" + +A dreadful thought, a dreadful question occurred to Ringfield as he +marked the dark wave of hair on Miss Clairville's brow, and again he +saw the child in the basket chair at Hawthorne, but he frantically +stifled the thought and forbore to question, and the next moment she +was weeping and pushing him towards the door. + +"Go now," she sobbed. "Go before it gets darker. You might lose your +way. Go--go." + +He went out at once, pulling the door after him as well as he could and +ran through the hollow till he reached the road, where it seemed +brighter. The rain gave signs of falling less steadily, when, as often +occurs after a protracted storm, there came a lull, followed by one +terrific and astounding burst and explosion of thunder, accompanied by +a vivid blue and orange blaze and afterwards complete silence and a +great calm. The storm now rolled onward, having spent itself in that +locality; but knowing from the sound that some place or object had been +struck, Ringfield stopped, stepped behind a mass of boulders and +juniper bushes and looked back down into the little hollow. The barn +was apparently uninjured but the noble pine had suffered. The ripping, +tearing sound he had heard was explained by the sight of a broad +orange-coloured strip or band that ran longitudinally from the top of +the tree to the bottom, indicating where the bark had been peeled off +by the force of the fierce current. As he stood gazing thus at the +seared and stricken pine, the door opened from the side of the barn and +Miss Clairville slowly stepped out, followed by a man in whom, with an +exclamation of extremest repulsion and surprise, Ringfield clearly +recognized Edmund Crabbe. + +The shock of this and the full meaning of it set Ringfeld's nerves and +pulses tingling, and he stepped farther back into the shade as he +watched them. They advanced to the great pine, examined it, and he +could see that Crabbe's arm went around her waist. The guide himself +seemed, even at that distance, to be more neatly dressed than usual, he +wore a tweed cap with coat to match and did not look as if he had been +drinking, but as with him that was the sign that he was about at his +worst, Ringfield could only turn away in disgust and pursue his way to +Clairville. It was not a pleasant thought that Crabbe must have been +in the loft, while a somewhat tender scene had been enacted, and he +suddenly felt a contempt and pity for the woman who could play two men +at the same time in such barefaced fashion. Then, as lovers will, he +rebuked himself for this; perhaps Crabbe had taken refuge in the loft +without her knowledge, and the great final crash had brought him down; +perhaps she had known he was there, but was ashamed of producing him in +a semi-drunken condition, perhaps--then Ringfield saw the distant +lights of the Manor House and hastened towards them. A little farther +on he overtook the priest, leading Poussette's horse and buggy, and it +was not long before they were able to take off their wet clothes at +madame's fire and exchange confidences about the storm. + +In the large kitchen were also Mr. and Mrs. Abercorn, Dr. Renaud and +Poussette, and the priest, who was naturally held accountable for +Pauline's safety, reported her as resting comfortably in the barn. + +Ringfield did not say much; of Crabbe no mention was made by the +others, and it was probable that nobody had seen him, or dreamt of his +being out in the neighbourhood on such a day. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +IN THE BARN + + "Poor now in tranquil pleasure, he gave way + To thoughts of troubled pleasure." + + +Pauline had yielded to an erratic but harmless impulse in driving off +recklessly with the priest; her nature, so long restrained by residence +in a dull, circumscribed village instead of a lively town, needed some +such prank to reanimate and amuse it. She seized the reins +dramatically, insisted upon driving, and Father Rielle was nothing +loath since he did not care about nor understand horses very well, and +since it was dangerously novel and bitterly pleasant to sit and watch +Miss Clairville. Her fine features and splendid colouring showed well +against the dull background of sky and forest; the ribbon on which her +muff was slung, tied moreover in a dashing bow, was a bit of true +scarlet matching some rosettes in her hat. As she looked behind for a +wilful instant she caught sight of Ringfield sitting up stiffly on the +two fat laps provided by Amable Poussette and the doctor, and her laugh +rang musically in the priest's ear. + +"Poussette's is the fastest horse in the village!" cried she. "See--I +will give him a little of the whip. _Voilà_--now he will think he has +his master behind him. _March-ch, donc, animal_. Get up--bigosh, +_excusez, mon père_. That's it! Watch him now! I'm not an actress +for nothing. See now--he'll be galloping presently, but trotting is +all we care for, my good beast! So you are going to bring Mme. +Poussette back with you, I understand,--tear the fair lady from my poor +brother!" + +"Who has told you that _canard_?" said the priest, folding his arms and +leaning back as far as the little _calèche_ would allow. "No, I did +not think of doing so to-day; you doubtless heard me talking of the +matter to Dr. Renaud. I cannot tell what you think of it, but in the +absence of all servants it seems to me that Poussette's wife should +return to her home while you both make new arrangements for managing +his house. But perhaps you intend remaining there to-night, +mademoiselle?" + +"I have no such intention, _mon père_, I assure you. I am glad Henry +has recovered; I shall see him once or twice, of course, and then I +shall return to Montreal and not come back here for years--if I can +help it. But look at the snow! It is coming faster and faster and +growing darker and darker. The wolf's throat is sunshine compared to +this. Shall we turn back?" + +"No!" said the _curé_ with his sour face steadily turned toward her. +"I do not mind the snow nor shall you. I would drive so--like +this--beside you and looking at you, to the end of the world, of life. +Drive faster, faster yet, till we leave those others behind. Take that +opening there on your left. I know of a shelter that will +serve--Leduc's barn--you may remember it. Arrived there, you must hear +me." + +Pauline, irritated though not greatly surprised, stooped, and making a +small hard ball of the wet snow lying thickly around their feet, flung +it backwards into the priest's face; he caught her left wrist, held it +in a tight grip, and although she was a strong woman, he was the +stronger, being a man, and she could not escape. The darkness closed +down upon them, the snow came down in blinding, tickling clouds, and in +her anger and distress she could not drive properly. Poussette's horse +being accustomed to being driven to the barn, went in that direction of +his own accord, and thus they arrived in a whirlwind of snow--the +priest still holding her wrist with something else than sourness +showing in his thin features--a few minutes before the hail commenced +falling. Pauline, dragging herself as she descended to the ground from +an over-zealous admirer, ran into the shelter and tried to fasten the +door, but the other, leaving Poussette's horse and _voiture_ to fare as +best they might, was quick upon her heels and followed her inside the +barn. + +Thus they escaped the worst portion of the storm, but the darkness +endured; they remained standing looking at one another, and Pauline, +though she was both cold and frightened, managed to give her habitual +laugh. + +"Because you are 'Father Rielle,'" she exclaimed, "you think you are +entitled to pursue a recreant sheep of the flock even over here! Oh! +it is not on account of the storm--I know that--that you follow me! I +have seen this coming for some time, and I have feared it!" + +The priest staggered, passed his hands over his eyes and made a hasty +sign of the cross. Opportunity, propinquity, a sudden +temptation--these had assailed him and for one moment all the devils of +hell were let loose in this good man's brain and heart. The silence +seemed eternal that followed on his movement; as the air lightened +around them she fancied his countenance distorted by suffering, and his +averted eyes spoke of his shame and contrition. + +"My daughter," he said at length, "fear what you will but never again +fear me. You witness my remorse, my tears--yes, behold, my +daughter--and you know, you tell yourself that I cannot, will not harm +you--nor any woman. But now you would hear what I would say, because +you must not refuse. You have left our Holy Catholic communion, you +are no longer daughter of the true Church, is it not so, my daughter?" + +An old habit asserting itself, Pauline automatically answered; "_Oui, +mon père._" + +"You have gone on the stage, you have developed into a brilliant but +wayward coquette; you have for your friend a woman who has left her +husband and thinks about marrying another. Is this not so, my +daughter?" + +And again, despite her experience of his singular lapse from conduct, +Pauline's lips answered: "Oui, mon père." + +"Worst of all, you have set yourself to fascinate and wound this young +man, this stranger among us, and you are leading him on to think of you +night and day, I suppose, as I do!" + +"_Mon père_--do not confess it!" + +"Why not? You will not use your knowledge of my secret since you will +not be believed. I--thanks to my training and the example of my +glorious Church--can choke, can bridle, can conceal this passion--but +not so this other. Can you deny that you have been with him, +encouraged him?" + +Pauline would have answered hotly, her rudimentary fear of the _curé_ +disappearing before the mention of Ringfield, when her eyes fell upon a +book that lay at the foot of the ladder, a small green book that she +knew well by sight, having read in it with Edmund Crabbe years before, +when he was known as "Mr. Hawtree" and had been her lover. The book +was a collection of poems by Edwin Arnold, and back into her memory +stole those passionate lines:-- + + The one prize I have longed for + Was once to find the goal of those dear lips; + Then I could rest, not else; but had you frowned + And bade me go, and barred your door upon me, + Oh, Sweet! I think I should have come with lamps + And axes, and have stolen you like gold! + + +She stood staring at the cover, for upon it lay three or four large +spreading dark patches; were these wet spots caused by the snow? Her +eyes, then traversing the ladder, noticed footprints, and cakes of +blackened snow upon the steps. To whom belonged these tell-tale signs +of occupation? Glancing farther up she saw the end of a stick +protruding from the loose piles of straw that trickled over the top of +the ladder, and she recognized the stick, a stout one with a peculiar +ferule that also belonged to Crabbe. He must be in the loft, either +sleeping or keeping silence, and now she found herself in the most +uncomfortable position a woman can possibly occupy; to her already +crowded list of lovers had been added another, and as the quarry of +four strongly contrasted men, each possessing more than average +persistence of character, she must have excited pity and sympathy in +the breasts of women less fatally attractive, but scarcely one thrill +of envy. She recognized in the priest potentially the fiercest lover +of them all; a man of only two or three ideas, this one of cruel, +hopeless, unattainable passion for herself would easily dominate him +and render him, fresh to the emotions and therefore ignorant of how to +control and deal with them, utterly unreasonable, even it might be +violent and offensive. What wonder then if her thoughts like her eyes +turned toward the loft above her. Despite her flighty tendencies, her +town and theatre friendships and quarrels, her impulsive and emotional +nature, Crabbe was the only man who had gained an ascendancy over her; +for him she had forsaken prudence, but for him only, and strongest of +associations, closest of ties--he alone had appealed to and satisfied +her physical side. She had given him much but not all, and now in this +moment of hatred of the _curé_, of herself, and a moving disgust at the +conflicting facts of her difficult life, she thought of the Englishman +as a desired refuge. There came crowding into her mind those small +delicate acts and gestures which make as we say "the gentleman." She +recollected Crabbe as he was when he first presented himself at the +_métairie_, the self-possession of his easy manner, subtly tinctured +with that dose of romance necessary to her imagination; the unconscious +way, to do him justice, in which his talk of blight and exile and +ruined fortunes had aroused all her dormant sympathies. + +"Oh," she cried, hoping that if in the loft he would hear, "all this is +so dreadful, so different from the life I meant to lead, from the life +I believe I was intended to lead! Hear me, Father Rielle: all men I +hate and abhor, all, save one, and not the one you are thinking of! +Hear me again: if I can find the money I will leave Clairville as I +said, for good, for ever. I shall leave the theatre in Montreal, leave +Canada, and I will go where my talents shall be understood and +requited. It is true I have a temper and a tongue. It is true I am +hard to teach and hard to get on with, and how do I know--perhaps there +lurks in me a trace of that I fear so in Henry--yet I am resolved to +try. If you mean what you say, and are not mad in your turn, will you +help me to carry this out? I would leave at once, make my way abroad, +study and become the actress I know I could if I got my chance. +Perhaps in another country, perhaps if I could reach Paris, where I am +not known, where it is not known, where----" + +She stopped, following the priest's gaze so that both saw now what +happened, the heap of straw at the top of the ladder was dislodged, the +stick belonging to Crabbe slid down to the floor of the barn and the +moment after he himself appeared. His face was somewhat red and +swollen but his attire was neater than usual, and the step with which +he descended the ladder almost normally steady, besides, he appeared on +the side of morality, and as champion of feminine rights made a better +figure than one would have deemed possible in so broken a man. + +"Sorry to interrupt this _tête-à-tête_," said he, stopping to pick bits +of straw off himself, "but it seemed about time that somebody +interfered. I perceive Miss Clairville is rather tired, and--look +here, Father Rielle--I give you two minutes by this old turnip or +hour-glass of mine--it was with me on the prairie and may not keep very +good time, but it ticks--I give you two minutes to apologize to +mademoiselle for your--ah--detention of her, and then you may leave us +for the Arctic regions outside. Polar, by Heaven, hail falling as big +as walnuts!" + +It was true; the darkness still reigned and a terrific noise, caused by +the large stones rattling on the roof and splintering the distant +forest branches. The priest on hearing that authoritative drawl behind +him, cowered, his fear of personal violence from Crabbe, who bore a bad +name, mastering his ecclesiastical dignity; but as he perceived that +the guide was fairly sober he gathered courage and replied in rapid +French:-- + +"You will not I hope be so evil-minded, monsieur, as to misunderstand +my sentiments towards Mademoiselle Clairville, whom I have known from +her childhood. I am only saying to her what I have felt for a long +time--I would be the means of saving her from herself, from such +friends as you, and from the ills attendant on the profession she has +chosen. My affection for her is solely that of the parish priest who +has watched her career and felt saddened by it, yet who would reward +evil by good." + +"How would you reward her? By making love to her?" + +"I have been in communication with the Mother Superior of a convent +near Three Rivers, my birthplace. There is a fine appointment there, +waiting for a person of talent--gifted--to instruct in elocution and +possibly music. I thought----" + +"You thought it would suit me!" cried Pauline, in a frenzy of disgust +and irritation. "Me! For the stage and its triumphs a convent with +simpering nuns! For Paris with its gay shops and drives, the town of +Three Rivers, Province of Quebec, _dans le Bas Canada_! Oh! I see +myself, thank you, in that _galère_, I assure you! No--no--that +honourable extinction is not for me yet awhile. _Après, mon pere, +après--après_, I may return and be glad of the haven, but not now." + +"The two minutes are up," said Crabbe laconically. "I'm sorry to turn +you out in such an afternoon, Father Rielle, but it is best for you and +for mademoiselle. The hail's not quite so big as it was. I advise you +to go at once." + +The priest, divining some understanding between Crabbe and Pauline, and +gradually calling to mind certain episodes of several years back, +glanced from one to the other. + +"I am not sure that I am not myself in the way," he said grimly. "Such +rapid and excessive sensitiveness on behalf of Mlle. Clairville is +creditable, but scarcely, I should think, its own reward." + +"Do you deny that your being here is a menace to Miss Clairville's +peace and that you--you a frocked and tonsured priest--have addressed +words of love to her? If I did not utterly despise you, I should kick +you out into the storm." + +"You need do neither. I do not deny that I love Miss Clairville; I +deny only that I have menaced or threatened her in any form. I say +this to you--man of unclean, unholy habits--the priest is human. He is +as God made him. He lives or dies, loves or hates by the will of God. +When I look at Miss Clairville, I think of her as the possible helpmeet +of my life, had it been spent in the service of this world instead of +in the service of God. I think of her, monsieur, even reverently, +purely, as the possible mother of my children." + +This astonishing speech had much effect upon Pauline, who commenced +weeping; the priest's voice--always a beautiful one--had dropped with a +mournful cadence on the four last words, and Crabbe did not reply. + +"Who can do more than that?" resumed the _curé_. "But that I cannot +offer. Such care and worship, such devotion and tenderness I may not +give. What then! I can at least be the instrument which shall shape +her future career. I can point the way and deliver her from all these +temptations of the world, the flesh and the devil. I do so now. I ask +her to renounce the world now, at this moment, and to enter upon a new +life to which it shall be my high and glorious privilege to introduce +her." + +The subtlety of the priest saved him. The noble melancholy of his +words and gestures was abundantly convincing, and suddenly the +situation, at one time threatening to become unpleasantly melodramatic, +became normal. The reversion to the light commonplaces and glib +phrases of society was felt in Crabbe's careless tones as he spoke of +the weather, adding:-- + +"'Tis never too late to be polite. I'm putting my watch back into my +pocket, and I'll go with you, Father Rielle. My refuge--a temporary +one--is no longer needed, it's lightening very considerably, and I +suppose you'll be going on to Clairville." + +"But what am I to do?" exclaimed Pauline. "I would rather not be left +here alone!" + +"I am afraid you must make up your mind to that. Poussette's horse is +hardly fit to be driven. Let Father Rielle take him to the Manor House +and then come back for you with one of the others." + +This was agreed upon, the two men left at once and for the space of ten +or fifteen minutes she was alone. At the end of that time she could +hear footsteps on a rapid run, and soon Edmund Crabbe re-entered the +barn. The cool air had invigorated him, and he flung off his cap and +faced her. + +"I could not leave you in that summary fashion, after so long," he +said, "after so long, Pauline! Well--I have lived to be of some +service to you--or so I think. Whether Platonic or not, you had better +not encourage his reverence to that extent again, do you hear? A +veritable Cassius of a man! And, by the way, you are looking very well +just now, lady dear. I never saw you handsomer, Pauline!" + +Miss Clairville's colour, already high, leaped more redly in her cheeks +and she trembled; the ancient power that this man held over her, the +ring of his rich English inflections, the revival of habit and +association made her weak as water, so that she suddenly sat down and +could find nothing to say. But Crabbe was quite at his ease, the +encounter with Father Rielle had sharpened his wits and given him a +restored opinion of himself, and in Pauline he saw a very handsome and +attractive, warm-hearted and talented woman, still young and once very +dear to him. The dormant affection in both was near the surface and +Crabbe, knowing from her silence and downcast eyes how she felt, put +some check on himself. + +"Small use to either of us," he sighed, "to renew those passionate +scenes of our youth! But I can still admire you and wish with all my +heart--my heart you doubtless think black and altogether corrupt, +Pauline--that you were for me to win afresh and wear openly this time, +and that I might offer you a future unsullied. I suppose that your +Methodist parson is after you, too, and that he will be the lucky one! +He's handsome, d----n him--and steady as mountains; he does thy work, O +Duty, and knows it not. I have little doubt but that flowers bend +before him in their beds, that fragrance in his footing treads, and +that the most ancient heavens----what's the rest of it? But you know, +Pauline, you know you'll never be happy with him!" + +Miss Clairville murmured something he did not catch, and it was a +marvel to see how completely she lost her gay, assertive air, her +dashing theatrical address in the presence of the guide. + +"He's been at me several times about reforming. Well, if I did what +would there be for me here? A big, long purse, Pauline, that's what I +want--a big, long purse, my girl, and then you and I might leave this +place and all these old harrowing associations. What about that +Hawthorne business? Do you ever hear?" + +"Sometimes," whispered Miss Clairville. "Antoine, as you may have +noticed, acts for me. I give him the money, but I never go myself. I +could not bear to see it--to see her--and it is not necessary." + +"Poor girl!" said Crabbe, with much feeling. "It's hard on you, damned +hard, I know. What's the matter? Oh--the swearing! I'm sorry, live +too much by myself--forget myself. But Pauline, almost I think Father +Rielle's advice will have to be followed. It would be a haven--a +haven--better than the stage. If I could reform, could change my skin +and lose my spots--but no! Even the fulminations of your latest +admirer cannot work that miracle--I'm incorrigible! When I think of +what I was, of what I might have been, and of what I am, despair seizes +on me and then I'm only fit for--the bottle! There's no help for me, +I'm afraid. Why, Pauline, this is Heaven's truth--I'm not perfectly +sober now." + +As he spoke, again were heard footsteps on a run outside the barn. + +"I know you're not," said Miss Clairville in agitation, "but I don't +shrink from you as I used to do. Perhaps it was my fault. Oh--who can +this be? Father Rielle returning?" + +"Hardly. He was told to drive back for you. It's some one seeking +shelter, like ourselves. Hark--the hail is stopping, and now the +thunder and lightning and a good old-fashioned midwinter storm!" + +"I know who it is," said she, still more hurriedly, and pushing Crabbe +towards the ladder,--"it is Mr. Ringfield. You must go back to the +loft. I could not have him meet you here. He thinks--he thinks--you +know what he thinks." + +"And he's not far wrong, either," said Crabbe complacently. "But +perhaps I'd better do as you say; don't detain him now. When he's gone +I'll get you out of this somehow." + +Thus in a few minutes Ringfield entered the barn, found Pauline, as he +supposed alone; but afterwards, watching from the high road, saw the +guide emerge and noted the familiar relation in which they stood in +front of the stricken pine. + +More than simple religious feeling entered at this moment Ringfield's +young and untried heart, his vanity was deeply wounded, and the thought +that Miss Clairville could allow Edmund Crabbe to caress her was like +irritating poison in his veins. Yet he was in this respect unfair and +over-severe; the fact being that Pauline very soon observed, on coming +into closer contact with the guide, the traces of liquor, and she then +adroitly kept him at a distance, for in that moment of disenchantment +Ringfield's image again came uppermost. + +It was not possible for her to be wise either before or after the +event; she had not sufficient coldness nor shrewdness of character to +enable her to break with all these conflicting surroundings and begin +life over again as she had eloquently described to the priest, for +without money she could not leave St. Ignace, and she could not raise +the money without taking some situation which might unfit her for the +stage and prolong the time of probation too far into middle life. +Pauline might age early, and at thirty-five she saw herself maturing +into a gaunt and grizzled dame, incapable of all poetic and youthful +impersonations. To be thus crippled was torture to her lively +imagination, and in this _danse macabre_ of thought, a grim procession +of blasted hopes, withered ideals and torturing ambitions, her mind +gave itself first to one issue, then to another, while it was clear +that her position at St. Ignace was fast growing untenable and that +something would have to be done. + +To live at Poussette's on the charity of its host was, although the +sister of the seigneur, to invite insult. To yield a second time to +the ingratiating addresses of the guide was to lose her self-respect, +while to indulge in and encourage a pure affection for Ringfield was a +waste of time. She recognized the truth of Crabbe's candid +statement--how could she do the young man such an injustice as to marry +him! + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +REVELRY BY NIGHT + + "Two passions both degenerate, for they both + Began in honour, ..." + + +The scene in the kitchen of the Manor House presented a forcible +contrast to the wild world without. The near approach of winter and +the news that M. Clairville was convalescent and well enough to receive +visitors had brought the Abercorns from Hawthorne to pay their somewhat +belated respects--they had never called before--and their arrival at +the _métairie_ created much astonishment. The rate at which the mare +had raced through the Turneresque "Hail, Snow and Rain" relaxed as she +neared Lac Calvaire, and they were able to disembark (in the language +of the country) in safety if not in comfort at the door opened by Mme. +Poussette. The parishes being nine miles apart, one entirely French, +the other mostly English, not much gossip penetrated, and the Rev. +Marcus and his wife were startled to hear that Henry Clairville had +left his room, walked all over his house and even reached half-way to +the bridge one afternoon. But as they were both cold and fatigued, +madame led them (and shortly after Dr. Renaud and Poussette as well), +by dark and tortuous paths, to her kitchen, a large room built on the +generous scale of the seventeenth century, with a deep overhanging +fireplace, and thick, arched recesses serving as closets, and furnished +with swinging shelves and numerous bins where the provisions sent in +periodically by Poussette were safely stored, thus being well protected +from the rigours of a Lower Canadian winter. + +Mrs. Abercorn was glad to come to the fire, her short squat figure lost +in the depths of a chair which Mme. Poussette had found in one of the +disused rooms, padded and carved, but also torn and moth-eaten; +nevertheless a comfortable refuge on such a day, and soon the reverend +lady sank into a soothing slumber, while her husband read from a book +he carried in his pocket. + +It grew dark and madame was lighting a couple of lamps when the priest +and Ringfield entered. Explanations were in order, but as neither of +them mentioned Edmund Crabbe, Miss Clairville's true position was not +made known, and it was arranged that as soon as somebody's clothes were +sufficiently dried and somebody's horse rubbed down and fed, somebody +should pick her up at Leduc's barn and so return with her to St. Ignace. + +"Of course _you_ will go, Dr. Renaud," said Mrs. Abercorn, waking up +abruptly and joining in the conversation with her usual judicial air. +"But take some supper first." + +"Has not mademoiselle already waited overlong?" exclaimed Poussette. +"It is nearly six o'clock and dark--shall I not return now, and bring +her back with me?" + +"I think not," said the doctor, who partly understood the situation. +"She will not expect to reach Clairville at all to-night, and, as Mrs. +Abercorn says, as soon as I have something to eat, and a little to wash +it down with--I myself shall go for her. Here, Poussette--off with +your coat! Stir yourself now, and bring us the best the manor affords. +It's no secret that since Mme. Archambault and her tribe have cleared +out, we are masters of all contained in these generous closets--these +roomy cellars I have heard of so often. Madame--the cloth, if you +please, the dishes, the plates! Poussette--the wine, the old liqueurs, +the glasses!" + +"But sir, consider the fate of ma'amselle!" cried Poussette piteously. +"She is alone--oh, poor lady--in Leduc's barn, without light, without +warmth, with nothing to eat or drink! How then--do you wish to desert +her?" + +"Not I," said the doctor composedly. "But I know mademoiselle, she is +true Canadienne, not afraid of a little snow, a little storm! And the +secret of my profession is--always to eat and always to drink when good +food and good drink are going. Madame, make haste there!" + +"If I could assist you,----" began Mr. Abercorn, but stopped, for his +glance wandered to his wife, who had never approved of Miss Clairville. + +"You must not dream of such a thing, Marcus. Leave me here in this +strange house, and go back by yourself along that awful road? +Certainly not. Perhaps Father Rielle is going that way sooner than +you, Dr. Renaud. Are you not, sir, anxious to--what do you call +it--_chercher_ mademoiselle?" Despite her knowledge of French it was +the way of this lady to address the inhabitants of the countryside in +English, it "accustomed them to it" and, she fervently hoped, tended to +bring about the ultimate "Anglifying of the Province," to borrow a term +much used by that distinguished patriot, Louis Honore Papineau, +previous to 1857. + +The priest, who had as yet no intention of returning to the barn, +preferring that others should encounter the uncertain temper of one so +recently tried in uncommon and painful ways, professed much interest in +her plight, remarking, however, that he feared he did not drive well +enough to find his way over the plateau of rock which lay between the +road and the shelter. + +"Then there is only Mr. Ringfield left!" exclaimed Mrs. Abercorn, much +as if she were marshalling people in to dinner. "Yes, yes--_you_ shall +go for her, poor thing, but probably she deserves it; living on your +charity, I hear, Mr. Poussette, and the other woman too; shocking, I +call it! And belonging to quite an old family, _quite_ old, I believe." + +The idea of Pauline not paying anything towards her board while staying +at Poussette's was painfully new to Ringfield; he had never thought of +the matter, but now recalled her chronic condition of impecuniosity, +and he saw directly how humiliating this must be for her and why it was +necessary that she should find something to do. Henry Clairville, her +natural and proper protector, could not apparently help her, the +Englishman was fully as impotent, and Ringfield at once decided, while +listening to the conversation, to seek her again and offer her a part +of his stipend, the first instalment of which had been paid over by +Poussette that morning. Everything favoured his quiet withdrawal, for +the heat of the fire, the stacks of celery, and the splendid cognac, +smuggled from the islands of St. Pierre and Miquelon, and purchased by +Poussette for twenty cents a bottle, were beginning to tell on both Mr. +Abercorn and the doctor. + +"Twenty cents, did you say?" hastily inquired the former, "I never +heard anything like that! I think I must, I really must have a taste, +just a drop, just a sip--thank you, Dr., thank you. My dear--a little +for you too? No? Well, well, after all that exposure I do not +believe, I really do _not_ believe a little would hurt you. Ah! that's +it, Dr., a small wineglassful for Mrs. Abercorn. There, my dear, I am +sure you require it." + +"Do you no harm," said Dr. Renaud. "'Tis fine stuff, the best French. +Makes one feel like a boy." And he began to sing. + + "Quand j'étais sur mon père, + Je n'avais rien à faire + Quand j'étais sui mon père + Qu'une femme a chercher. + A present j'en ai une, + A present j'en ai une + Qui me fait enragé. + + +"Change that to '_en roulant ma boule_' and I'm with you," said Mr. +Abercorn, and the Doctor took him at his word; Mrs. Abercorn becoming +very sleepy, was provided with rugs and pillows on a sofa in the hall, +while the two gentlemen sipped cognac and munched celery till slumbers +also overtook them. + +Ringfield then moved. "Where is M. Clairville?" he asked Mme. +Poussette, tilting his chair back as she passed. + +"In his bed, M'sieu. He overwalked this morning and knows nothing of +the storm, and after a _petit verre_ of this good cognac he has gone to +sleep. It is good for the brain--this cognac; will not M'sieu join the +others?" + +"No, thank you," he said, smiling, "You know I never touch these +things. But I was thinking of going out to see the night. Surely the +rain is almost over! Do I go this way?" + +"The other door, if you please, M'sieu." + +Poussette's anxiety as he noted Ringfield's departure was ludicrous. +He overturned bottles, knocked down a chair, while he cast frightened +glances at the priest sitting reading his breviary austerely under the +lamp. How could he escape? Ah--the horses--they had not been properly +attended to! The next moment he was off, out of the kitchen and +hastily rummaging in the large and dreary stables for a lantern. A +whole row of these usually hung from the ceiling of a small outhouse +close at hand, and Ringfield had already taken one, lighted it, and was +a quarter of a mile along the road; Poussette, fearing this, made such +insane haste, "raw haste, half-sister to Delay," that the blanketing of +the horse and the other preliminaries took more time than usual, and he +had hardly driven out of the gate when Father Rielle, who had changed +his mind, also left the kitchen from where his sharp ears had caught +these various sounds, and searching for a third lantern, found one, +lighted it, and set off on foot behind Poussette in the buggy. + +Thus--a little procession of three men and three lanterns was +progressing along the slippery, lonely road towards the barn where Miss +Clairville was awaiting rescue, the first of whom to arrive was +Ringfield. Striding to the half-open door he boldly called her name, +and shoving the lantern inside perceived her to be entirely alone. + +"Oh--it is you then! I am so glad--it seems hours since you went away. +I have not been exactly frightened, for I know these woods and there is +nothing alive in them, but the position of this barn--so remote, so +down by itself in the little hollow--if anything did attack me, my +voice would never be heard." + +"But you were not alone when I left you! You may not be alone now!" + +"How did you find that out?" her face changed; she had not calculated +on his having seen Crabbe. + +"I think I knew all the time; your restlessness, your anxiety to get me +away, your pushing me down on that box and changing the subject--why, +when I saw him come out, and--and wind his arm around your waist, then +I knew you had been lying to me! How could you do it!" He waved the +lantern towards the loft but could see nothing there. + +"He is gone, gone," said she earnestly; "he has gone to the village to +get some rig or other and come back with it for me, but of course I +would rather go with you." + +"I cannot believe a word you say!" exclaimed Ringfield in an agony, +setting the lantern down. "Not a word--not a word. Do you think you +can play all your life like this with men? You cannot play with me at +all events. There are forces here (he struck his breast), passions +here, instincts here I never dreamed of, I never knew I possessed. It +is not good, nor wise, nor necessary for me to love you, Pauline, but I +do--I do! And you must fear them, you must respect them, these +instincts, these forces, as much in me as you would do in other men." + +"I do, I do! Only I do not like to see you and that other man +together--I always feel something happening, I do not know what! but I +will tell you all about it. Father Rielle drove me to this place; we +got out, came in, and then he talked most foolishly, most wildly--hurt +my wrist--see here! And while I was wondering how I could put him off, +get rid of him, I discovered that the other man was in the loft. I saw +his stick, then I heard him; and then he came down and he and Father +Rielle went away together." + +"But he came back--for I saw him, I saw you both. You went outside to +look at the tree." + +"Yes--he went away, but he came back, and while we were talking I heard +you coming and so--and--so----" + +"You got him out of the way in time! Then after I left he was here +again with you?" + +"For a little while, just a little while." + +Ringfield suddenly snatched her hands and bent his stern offended gaze +upon her. + +"You have been hours with that man, hours--I know it. And to pretend +to me that there was no one there, while you allowed me to open my mind +and heart to you--the indignity of it, the smallness and vileness of +it; oh!--can not you see how I suffer in my pride for myself as well as +in my affection for you? As for the man, he knew no better, and I +suppose he wished for nothing better, than to listen and look, to watch +us, to spy----" + +He choked with sorrowful wrath and temper; an access of jealous, +injured fury entirely possessed him for an instant, then with a great +effort, and an inward prayer, he partly regained his ministerial calm. + +"You must see that I am right," he resumed; "he calls himself a +gentleman--you call him one; but is that a gentlemanly thing to do? +Gentleman? To stay here in hiding and let us talk on as we did! And +what does it signify that he is or has been 'an Oxford man'--the term +has no relevancy here, no meaning or sense whatever. Tell me this once +more, for I have grave doubts--has he any legal right over you?" + +Pauline resolved to answer this question truthfully. How would +Ringfield accept the delicate distinction of a moral right involving +only those ties, those obligations, known to themselves and not to the +world? + +"No," she said, firmly. Then a great burst of colour filled her face +as she continued. "But he should have had. Now you know. Now you +know all." And Ringfield, as almost any other man would have done, +mistakenly concluded that she was the unfortunate mother of the +unfortunate child in the distant parish, Angeel! In this, perhaps the +crucial moment of his whole existence, his manhood, his innate simple +strength, his reason and his faith, all wavered, tottered before him; +this experience, this knowledge of evil at first hand in the person of +one so dear, flamed round him like some hideous blast from the hot +furnace of an accepted hell, and he realized the terrors of things he +had read about and seen depicted--lost souls, dark and yet lurid pits +of destruction, misshapen beasts and angry angels--the blood flowed +from his arteries and from his stricken heart up to his frightened +brain, and surged there while he stood, not raising his eyes to this +ill-starred woman. It was child's play to read one's Bible; it was +child's play to read about sin; it was bald and commonplace to receive +converts after service, or to attend death-beds of repentance; here was +that suffering entity, the Sinner, alone with him, weak in her strength +and strong through her weakness, and with her delicate, guilty, +perverted impulses he had to deal, and no longer with pulpit +abstractions. But while they stood thus, another turn in the affairs +which revolved around the lonely barn carried with it a new sound; a +horse's trot was plainly heard, likewise the humorous lilt of a shanty +song. + +"It is Mr. Poussette!" whispered Pauline, rushing to the lantern and +extinguishing it. "He is coming for me and I shall have to go with +him. I can manage him--better than the priest--but you--what must I do +with you? He is a gossip--that one--and it will work you harm in your +religion, in your church, if he finds you here with me." + +"Oh, why are you so impetuous!" returned Ringfield. "You should not +have blown out the light! He knew doubtless that I was coming for +you--there would be nothing in that. Where is the lantern--I will +light it again." + +"You cannot reach it, I have hidden it down behind those boxes. No, +no--I could not have him find you here with me. The loft--the loft! +There is the ladder!" + +And in two minutes he found himself, after scrambling up in the dark, +crawling about on his hands and knees in the same heap of straw that +had served to conceal Edmund Crabbe a few hours before, and doomed, in +his turn, to overhear the conversation of any who might be below. + +In a few moments the horse came to a standstill, and Poussette +approached, carrying his lantern, Miss Clairville receiving him with +just that successful mixture of hauteur and coquetry, which kept him +admiring but respectful. His delight at being the first, as he +supposed, to reach her, was as absurd as it was genuine, but there was +no delay, and she was soon comfortably wrapped up in Poussette's +_voiture_ and being rapidly driven to the manor-house. When he thought +it was quite safe, Ringfield shook himself free from the hay and straw +that encumbered him, and prepared to descend the ladder, but he had +scarcely enjoyed the luxury of stretching his long limbs (for he could +not stand upright in the loft) when he heard footsteps approaching, and +looking down, he perceived Father Rielle enter the barn, lantern in +hand, and with thin, high-nosed, sour countenance depicting intense +surprise, eagerly explore the place for Pauline. Ringfield held his +breath, but had enough sense to lie down again in the straw, and feign +slumber; happily the priest did not concern himself with the loft, but +the absence of the bird he had expected to find, caged and waiting, +seemed to mystify him. He remained for several minutes lost in +thought, then setting the lantern on one box, moved others around, +strewed them with a thick layer of hay he found on the floor, and lying +down with his cloak pulled well over him, settled to a night's rest. +Ringfield, thus imprisoned, passed for his part a miserable night; he +dared not move and his excited brain kept him from sleeping. Towards +four o'clock the lantern flickered out; at six, while it was yet dark, +the priest arose and went his way, and an hour later Ringfield also +retraced his steps to the village. Like a man in an exceedingly +unpleasant, but most distinct dream, he found himself bound in a net of +intrigue from which there seemed no chance of escape. It was Sunday +morning and at eleven he would have to take charge of the service and +address the usual congregation as Father Rielle had already partly +done, the early mass at St. Jean Baptiste-on-the-Hill being held at +half past seven. + +The road between the grim leafless trees was now swept clean of both +snow and hail by the streams of heavy rain which had poured the +previous night, and the air was mild. Much havoc had been wrought in +places by the furious storm; the rocky ground was littered with +branches and twigs of all sizes; rivers of yellow mud ran where the +clay road should be, and against this desolation there glowed +occasional plants of bright green, low along the ground, that had +escaped the winter's rages of a high level. Crows were silhouetted +against the pale blue sky laced with streamers of white, and spring +seemed to be in the air rather than late autumn; the excited birds +called to each other as they flew high over the forest, as if to hail +this pleasant morning, a contrast to the stormy night. Suddenly the +sun shone through those cloudy gossamers and irradiated the bright +green ferns and orange lichens, drawing the eye to the cross of gold +that topped Father Rielle's fine church. Ringfield went out of his way +to look at the fall; it was much swollen from the rain and thundered +over its brown rocks more loudly than he had ever heard it. Above the +bridge were swaying large quantities of floating timber, washed down by +the violence of the storm, and as he looked he saw three of these +derelicts ride to the brink, and tumble over, and among them a little +dog, that had got out there he could not tell how, which for a moment +stood on a rolling tree whining piteously, and then fell with it down +those ledges of furious frothing waters. + +He ran close to the edge, and looked over, but there was no trace of +the animal for fully five minutes; then he saw its poor little body +emerge, battered, knocked about by stones and trees at the foot of the +great cascade, and at the sight his good sense and right feeling seemed +to return to him. He had temporarily, as he himself would have put it, +forgotten his Creator in the days of his youth; now all came back to +him; the duties of his position, its dignity and its obligations, and +he strove hard, by prayer and concentration of mind, to be as he had +been, and forget Miss Clairville and her tempestuous existence for a +while, as he took upon himself the work of the sacred day. He preached +later from the verse, "Yet in the Church I had rather speak five words +with my understanding, that by my voice I might teach others also, than +ten thousand words in an unknown tongue," and his voice and magnetic +delivery were not impaired. The little dog, the little dead dog, +figured in the sermon; like the Ancient Mariner when he leaned over the +rotting vessel's side and watched the beautiful living things moving in +the waters, his heart gushed out with sympathy as the image of the dog, +seeing his death, and recognizing no escape from it, remained with him. +The eyes of the poor animal seemed ever before him; large, pathetic +brown eyes, with soft patches of lighter brown fur above them, a +quivering nose and trembling paws--could he not have saved it? No--for +motion once given to those rolling logs, they would carry anything on +with them, and it was already too late when he first perceived it--a +small, shivering, unhappy little object--with fear shining in its large +eyes, those eyes he had seen looking directly at him as if to say: +"Help me, my brother, help me from this Death! Help me, for the love +of God, as you believe in God and in His Omnipotence and Goodness!" + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +A CONCERT DE LUXE + + "----Consumed + And vexed and chafed by levity and scorn, + And fruitless indignation, galled by pride, + Made desperate by contempt." + + +Ringfield, who had confessed to a fixed and abiding ignorance of the +stage, was also ignorant of music, except so far as he could recognize +a few patriotic airs and old-country ballads. Of church music there +was nothing worth speaking of or listening to in the Methodist +conventicles of those days, so that he brought an absolutely open mind +to a consideration of Miss Clairville's voice and method when he first +heard her sing. That had been one evening in an impromptu and +carelessly inadequate manner in company with Miss Cordova--whom, with +her bleached hair, green eyes accentuated by badly-drawn, +purplish-black eyebrows, and a shrill American accent, he was learning +to dislike and avoid as much as possible; but now a better opportunity +presented itself. A Grand Evening Concert, Concert de Luxe, was to be +given at Poussette's for the survivors of Telesphore Tremblay, a +woodcutter who lived at the edge of the forest of Fournier, and who had +generously left behind him one of those long legacies of thriving sons +and daughters for which French Canada is famous. The modest birth-rate +of the province of Quebec is not in these days of "race suicide" a +thing to be ungrateful for: many Tremblays remain, with their family of +eighteen or twenty-four, of sturdy, healthy boys and girls, for the +most part pure French, with an occasional streak of Scotch or Irish, +and a still rarer tincture of Indian. Frugal, sober, industrious, and +intelligent along certain limited lines, the habitant sets an example +of domestic bliss, which, in its unalterable and cheerful conviction of +what are the duties of parents to the state and to the Church, tends to +the eternal and unimpoverished perpetuation of the French Canadian +race. The Tremblays were named as follows, and as some interest +attaches to the choice of triple, and even quadruple, titles, largely +chosen from the saints of the Roman Calendar, augmented by memories of +heroes, queens, and great men in history, it is thought well to give +them at length. Thus the sons, nine in number, were:-- + + Alexis Paul Abelard + Joseph Maurice Cleophas + Hector Jerome Panteleon Etienne + Jean Gabriel + Jules Alfred Napoleon + François-Xavier Hercule Narcisse + Patrick Zenophile + Pierre Joseph Louis-Felippe + Alphonse Arthur + +while the daughters were:-- + + Minnie Archange + Emma Catherine Lucille + Victoria Cécile + Marie-Antoinette Colombe + Brigide Zenobie + Eugenie Louise Angelique + Bernardette Ste. Anne. + + +The dining-room at Poussette's was transformed for the occasion into a +moderate sized concert hall, by the erection of a platform at one end +by Antoine Archambault under Pauline's skilled directions, and by rows +of planks crosswise over chairs, the people of the village joining +forces with those at Poussette's, just as in towns others conspire +together to hold fêtes and bazaars; but Ringfield stood afar off and +would have nothing to say to it. Miss Clairville intercepted him that +day after dinner and asked him to assist her. + +"I cannot think," said she, "how you remain so narrow in one respect, +while broad enough in others! I am sure that sermon yesterday about +the widow and the fatherless was the most beautiful thing I ever heard, +and that you have ever said. How then--is it wicked to get up a +concert, act, sing, and amuse ourselves, and all for a good object, +that we make money for the unfortunate? Ah--but I do not understand +you at all!" + +"No, I suppose I cannot expect you to do so," replied Ringfield sadly. +"But I have never approved of similar practices in the city, and it +seems to me that I must now include the country. Why not make a +personal canvass from house to house, through the mill, and so on, and +interest the members of our small community in the Tremblays--I believe +you would raise more." + +"Ah!" exclaimed Pauline, with a swift shrug of impatience; "see +now--how we should quarrel always! Quarrel? I think it would be one +grand, great long fight, if I--if I----" she faltered, and he noted +with quick passion the drooping of her ordinarily flashing eyes. + +"If you----" he repeated softly. "Oh--say the rest, or if you would +rather not--I will say it for you. You mean, if you could make up your +mind to leave all this, leave everything and everyone you have known, +and come to me--is that it?" + +They were for a moment completely alone, but as Antoine might approach +at any instant, laden with boughs of evergreen for decoration purposes, +conversation was of a stolen and hurried kind. Ringfield, in whom +first love had rapidly modified all natural shyness of the sex, was no +lukewarm lover; he took Pauline's hands, and bringing them to his lips, +pressed ardent kisses upon them, urging her to at once decide in his +favour and give him the right to guard her interests for ever. How or +where they would live was no matter, her best impulses must surely move +all her heart towards him, and at last he heard from her a soft answer, +which was nevertheless a clear affirmative, and now, not only hands but +lips joined in this rare moment, and Pauline, no longer estimating the +minister as one unlearned in the subtle lists of love, felt happier +than she had done for months. She had made, she told herself, the best +choice offered her, and for the moment she swore resolutions of holy +living and quiet dying, all in the character of Ringfield's wife. As +for him, the kiss had sealed all and changed all. + +"Now at last I shall live again, be a free agent, able to do my work! +You can have no conception of what it has been for me to get up my +sermons, for example, or to go about among the people here, thinking of +you, wondering if you would ever come to me or not. I have pictured +you going back to that other man, and I have hated you for it, hated +you both!" + +"Oh--hush, hush, be careful!" Miss Clairville, like all women, was now +afraid of the passion she had awakened. "Let us get to work--some one +may come in--you do not mind helping me now?" + +"Not--if you mean what you say! Not--if this time you are telling me +the truth!" + +"You cannot forget that lapse of mine, it seems. Well, I do mean it, I +do, I do! And you--you mean it too? You would take me even with my +past, and that past unexplained, with my faults and my temper?" + +"I have told you before that I would," he returned firmly. "No matter +what has happened; no matter what you have done, what anyone else has +done, I would, I will, I do take you! You are Heaven's choicest, +dearest gift to me--and what am I but an erring man trying to walk +straight and see straight!" + +Miss Clairville's eyes sparkled with mischief, while her mouth remained +solemn. + +"Then you must not talk of hating. Love your enemies, Mr. Ringfield, +and bless them that persecute you. That isn't in the Catholic Manual +in those words perhaps, but I have seen it somewhere, I think in the +Testament Nouveau. You see---- I am always 'good Methodist' as our +friend Poussette would say." + +"You shall be a better one in the future," exclaimed Ringfield, +tenderly, and as at that moment Poussette himself appeared, to lend +assistance, the interview was at an end. + +And now ensued a scene which a week earlier would have sorely tried +Ringfield's patience, but which now sufficed to amuse him, so secure +was he in Pauline's affection and so contented with her recent +promises. The evergreens were brought to her, seated on the platform +and wearing gloves to protect her hands; she cut off the branches, +trimmed them, and sometimes handed them to Poussette, and sometimes to +Ringfield, who then nailed them up at the back of the improvised dais +to make a becoming background; she also twined the smaller pieces into +festoons and ropes for the side of the room, and Poussette, who could +not keep his admiration a secret, hovered about her, continually +pressing her fingers as he received the greens, patting her back, +offering her the scissors and the ball of twine much more frequently +than she required them. It was a relief to the couple most concerned +when Miss Cordova entered, wearing an elaborately pleated and not too +clean violet dressing gown, over which she had put on a dark blue +blanket coat and her host's fur cap to keep her warm. Thus from the +ill-assorted trio was formed a comfortable _partie carrée_, for +Poussette seemed careless as to which lady he attended and he still +bore the cornelian ring upon his finger. Ringfield, forgetting his +scruples, had promised to take the chair and introduce the artists; +Antoine was door-keeper, and Poussette, clad in tweeds, a white +waistcoat and tie of bright blue, would receive the guests in his own +effusive way, seating the ladies carefully on the fresh yellow planks +with great gallantry and address. + +At eight o'clock the room began to fill, the village turning out well, +and a few coming all the way from Hawthorne, among these Enderby, the +Cockney butcher, and his wife and daughter, and as soon as Ringfield +had made a few appropriate remarks, couched this time in safe and +secular terms, the first number was given, consisting of an orchestral +selection by four players belonging to St. Ignace and to the choir of +Father Rielle's big church, St. Jean-Baptiste-on-the-Hill. A cornet, +two fiddles and a flute rendered the music with good time and fair +intonation, and as it was lighthearted, even gay in character, +melodious and tripping, Ringfield thought it must be of operatic +origin, but found later on to his intense surprise that it was a +transcription of Mozart's Twelfth Mass, interpreted by Alexis Gagnon, +the undertaker, as first violin, his eldest son, second violin, +François Xavier Tremblay, one of the beneficiaries, on the cornet, and +Adolphe Trudel, a little hunchback, on the flute. + +This selection, performed with more gusto and enthusiasm than +customary, gave so much satisfaction that it had to be repeated after +noisy and prolonged applause, and then Miss Cordova appeared at the +side of the platform, dressed in Spanish costume and carrying +castanets. The opera of "Carmen," at that time quite new, had been +performed in some small towns of the United States by a "scratch" +company, including Pauline's acquaintance and--to show that Art is a +reality, and some people born into it, at their best in it and unfit +for anything else--the lady was greatly changed, not only in +Ringfield's eyes, but in her own. The greenish-yellow hair looked dull +gold by lamplight; her eyes gleamed blackly from their blue +crystallized lids (the bath of indigo being a stage device known to all +devotees of the art), and her dancing, which immediately commenced to +her own castanets and a subdued "pizzicato" from the two violins, was +original and graceful, and free from any taint of vulgarity. Her +draperies of handsome black and yellow stuffs were high to the throat +and reached to her ankles; her expression was dreamy, almost sad; one +would have said she was figuring in some serious rite, so dignified her +mien, so chaste and refined her gestures. If Bizet has idealized the +heroine of Prosper-Merimée's crude but strong little story, Sadie +Cordova idealized in her turn the orthodox tempestuous, unhappy Carmen +of the modern stage. The beauty of the music with its rhythmic +measured beat, and the grace of her swaying changeful poses, riveted +all eyes and ears, and Ringfield, to whom such an exhibition was +altogether new, was absorbed in watching this woman he had endeavoured +not to despise, and whom he certainly would have exhorted in his most +earnest fashion to flee St. Ignace directly, had he known that she was +a person who had experimented more than once in matrimony, not having +waited for the death of her first husband before she married the +second, and that she had two children living. + +The next on the programme was a baritone solo from a young habitant, +another of the Tremblay family, a portion of a Mass in which he was ill +at ease, and over-weighted; this apparently not mattering to the +populace, he was encored, and returned to sing, in his own simple +fashion and without accompaniment, one of the many beautiful melodies +known to him from his childhood--A Chanson Populaire. + + Quand un Chrétien se determine + A voyager, + Faut bien penser qu'il se destine + A des dangers; + Mille fois a ses yeux la mort + Prend son image, + Mille fois il maudit son sort + Dans le cours du voyage. + + + Quand tu seras dans les portages, + Pauvre engagé, + Les sueurs te couleront dea visages + Pauvre affligé, + Loin de jurer, si tu me crois, + Dans ta colère, + Pense à Jesus portant sa croix-- + Il a monté au Calvaire! + + +What words were these--to be sung at a mixed concert in a summer hotel +in the primitive village of St. Ignace? Ringfield knew enough French +to follow them, and as the minor plainsong of the melody floated +through the hall, he saw Miss Clairville's eyes filling with tears +where she sat in the front at one side awaiting her turn. She had +often spoken to him of the beautiful national music of her +province--this was the first time he had heard it. But quickly now +followed Poussette with a solo on the concertina, in which his fat body +laboured to and fro, and his fat hands plunged the instrument to one +side, then to the other, while his broad smile and twinkling eyes first +pleased, then convulsed the audience. After him came Miss Clairville, +and Ringfield, nervously reading out the title of the song, did not +observe how she was dressed until she had reached the platform and had +greeted her audience. The black and scarlet garb so familiar to him +was now accompanied by a smart little jacket of red worn rather +queerly, since one arm only was thrust in and the empty sleeve caught +up in some way he did not understand, while on her head she wore a kind +of arch hussar's cap. It was evident that her selection was familiar +to some in the audience, those who had seen her as "La Grande Duchesse +de Gerolstein" in Montreal, and a few who had attended similar +functions to the present. + +"It's only an old turn of mine," she managed to whisper to Ringfield, +"but they all like it. Le Sabre de Mon Père--I never tire singing it +myself. You look stupid enough this minute to be my Fritz--but +there--you do not understand!" + +The accompaniment was played on the American organ, moved for that +occasion up to the platform, but even that could not detract from the +passionate pride and fire with which Miss Clairville rendered that +spirited song, so far removed from opera "bouffe" or "comic" opera; +indeed the noble character of the first strain was considerably +enhanced by the church-like quality of the accompaniment. So far +Ringfield was greatly surprised, for he had seen and heard nothing that +failed to appeal to the artistic and elevated side of life, and Pauline +threw additional vigour and life into her representation of the +autocratic Duchess, half-acted, half-sung, as she observed her latest +captive; new chains were being forged by the unexpected grandeur and +beauty of her thrilling voice and all went breathlessly and well until +the door at the end of the room opened and a startling figure appeared. +This was Edmund Crabbe--but no longer Crabbe the guide, the dilatory +postmaster, the drunken loafer; in his stead appeared Crabbe Hawtree, +Esquire, the gentleman and "Oxford man," in his right mind and +clothed--_mirabile dictu_--in full and correct evening dress. +Piccadilly and Pall Mall need not have been ashamed of him; the +regulation coat, waistcoat and trousers were there, a little worn, but +still in fashion; the white tie was there, the stiff collar and cuffs, +the patent leather pumps, even a white silk handkerchief tucked inside +the waistcoat, and some kind of sprig in the buttonhole. He paused, +carefully shutting the door behind him, and stood while Pauline +finished her song; at its conclusion he walked up through the rows of +village people--shanty and mill hands, habitants and farmers--and +presented the artist with a handsome bunch of florist's roses, quite in +the accepted style of large cities, and her surprise was evident. She +started, stared at him, faltered, and might have spoken but for the +impassive and nonchalant air with which he faced her. As for +Ringfield, a great anger and distress filled his mind. What spasm of +reform had animated this fallen, worthless creature to create an +impression which could not, in the nature of things, lead to systematic +rehabilitation? To ape the garb of worthy men, to stand thus, tricked +out in the dress of a remote civilization from which he had thrust +himself forever, before the woman he perhaps had wronged, and with so +easy and disdainful a bearing, seemed to Ringfield the summit of +senseless folly and contemptible weakness. Subjected during the rest +of the evening to the cynical, amused and imperturbable gaze of this +man, whom, in spite of his Christianity, he hated, Ringfield made but a +sorry chairman. His French stuck in his throat; he cast dark and angry +looks at the noisy flirtation going on between Poussette and Miss +Cordova, and it was with relief that he heard the patriotic strains of +"God Save the Queen" from the strength of the company, in which the +hoarse bass of the transplanted cockney, Enderby, the Hawthorne +butcher, was paramount. + +Crabbe was waiting for Pauline and gave her his arm down from the +platform. + +"Well," said he, openly displaying his admiration, "you gave us a +Gregorian Grand Duchess to-night, but I, for one, will not quarrel with +you for that. All the old time vivacity and charm were there, I assure +you, and I do not find as much alteration in your style and appearance +as I expected from hearing that you had joined the Methodists!" + +Pauline glanced quickly from Crabbe to Ringfield; she foresaw an open +and unseemly quarrel, and as one could never tell when Crabbe was +sober, she rather feared than welcomed the bright audacity of his +manner, the amiable ease with which he held the situation. In the +presence of the guide Ringfield always lost his austere calm; his +manners underwent deterioration and he stood now with a rigid +_gaucherie_ spoiling his fine presence, and a pitiful nervousness +prompting him to utter and do the wrong thing. + +"I'm not saying there's anything wrong with Methodists all the same, +you know," continued Crabbe, giving her arm a final and caressing pat +as he released her, "but still I've seen better chairmen." Crabbe was +now leaning lazily against the wall and occasionally moved his arm +across Miss Clairville's back, as if he might at any moment fold it +around her waist as he had done outside the barn. + +"Your French needs polishing up a bit. How would a course at one of +our theological colleges down here do for you? It's a pity you +couldn't have six months even at Laval--but, of course, Sabrevois and +the long procession of colporteurs is more in your line. But in spite +of such small defects you remain a man of cheerful yesterdays, and we +may presume--equally confident tomorrows, and therefore, to be envied." + +The three stood comparatively alone, the people having passed out and +Poussette and Enderby talking apart in a corner. Every vestige of +healthy colour fled from the minister's face, and his hands clasped and +unclasped with peculiar and unnatural tension. In his brain a prayer +had formed. "My Dear God--" he kept saying to himself--"my Dear +God--help me from myself! Protect me now lest I offend Thee, and be +forever cast from Thy Holy Presence. Remove this temptation from me, +or give me strength to meet it and endure, and so rise triumphant." + +His lips moved and the word "God" made itself faintly heard. Pauline +went closer to him and saw the set strain of his face and watched the +tightening fingers. + +"Oh, you are right--we torture you, he and I, with our foolish ways +that you do not understand!" + +"I understand well enough," he returned below his breath; "I understand +better than you think. But come now, come away with me!" + +"Come--where? I am living here, remember!" + +"Come away--away!" + +A new recklessness animated Ringfield; he was now the one to dash aside +convention and make a bold attempt for mastery. "It is not yet very +late. The snow is dry and hard--we can walk for half an hour." + +Crabbe smiled in a slow infuriating way. + +"I claim, I demand the lady for something better than a walk, under +dreary midnight skies, over cold and inhospitable winter snows! Like a +man in a certain chronicle I have made a supper and would bid you both +attend--one at least." + +"A supper? But whom----" Pauline stopped, although glad of the +diversion Crabbe's words offered. She had seen him hand a couple of +bills towards the Tremblay fund; she now recollected preparations +towards extra cooking during that day, which she had set down to +Poussette's mania for treating and feeding people, but which now must +be attributed to the guide, and in her hand were the forced roses sent +from Montreal--there was no nearer place. Crabbe must be out of his +senses, for never before even in the old days when his remittance came +to hand had she seen him so lavish. He read her meaning. + +"Who pays, eh! Is that it, my lady? Well, I do on this occasion, and +the fact is--well, I'll tell you all about it at supper." + +Pauline, still incredulous but extremely curious, took small notice of +Ringfield after this, and as Enderby was approaching, and she +particularly avoided meeting anyone from Hawthorne on all occasions, +she departed with the guide. There was a very attractive supper ready +for her in a private room, where Miss Cordova was also present in her +Spanish costume, a giddy chaperone who soon retired and left the two +together, and Pauline could hardly credit the fact that Crabbe was +genuinely sober, clad in his irreproachable evening suit, his hair +neatly brushed with a kind of military cut, and his features composed +and pleased, recalling much of what he had been when first they met; +and she also observed with much surprise that Poussette was present at +the feast altogether in the character of menial and inferior, with his +coat off, bustling about with the glasses, corkscrews and towels. +Instead of hobnobbing with the guide, he waited upon him with +discretion and assiduity, and Pauline even fancied that towards herself +there was a grain more of respect than of admiration in the hotel +keeper's bearing. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +REHABILITATION + + "Cast from the pedestal of pride with shocks." + + +All through the little supper, made gay by the brilliant dresses of the +ladies and the bunches of roses in the middle of the table, a +restlessness marked the guide's manner; he was clearly anxious to have +it over, get rid of Poussette and Miss Cordova, and be alone with +Pauline. + +It was a quarter to twelve when this was arrived at, and Crabbe took +the precaution of closing the door securely after the Frenchman, and of +seeing that the blind was sufficiently lowered over the one window +which looked on the side of the cleared yard nearer the river, but he +did not think of looking out of the window. Perhaps if he had he would +not have recognized Ringfield in the straight dark shadow that kept +walking up and down, up and down, as long as the light shone from that +room. When he at last found himself secure and alone, the Englishman's +stoicism, pride, and remorse, all came forth at one bound. He sat down +and swept the dishes away from him, reached for Pauline's hand, and +bent his head down over it upon the table, smothering different +ejaculations, which, warm and earnest enough, were totally removed from +his usual style of impassioned speech--he uttered nothing profane. But +he sobbed--sobbed. + +"Oh, what is it?" cried Miss Clairville in alarm. "What has happened? +I never saw you like this before. It frightens me--why you sound as if +you were crying, but that would be impossible. Oh, tell me, tell me!" + +He grew calmer, lifted his head and felt for his handkerchief. "Yes, +it's quite possible! I believe I have shed a tear or two. The first +in how many years, Pauline? Ah--that I could not, would not wish to +compute, but it's over now, I----" + +He stopped, released her hand and began settling his clothes with the +familiar touches she remembered so well. "I--well; Pauline, it's this; +I've come into money. Now you know. Now you understand. And another +thing--I know how to make money--what's more. Nothing succeeds like +success, you see, and by Heaven--one thing followed on another till I +could have gambled for luck, lost all, and won all back! Oh--I don't +know what I'm saying, but I mean that one thing would have been enough, +and there came two, two at once, here in the middle of this gloomy +wood, this Inferno of a place I have hated so well and so long. +Gad--it isn't half bad to-night though! I feel like a gentleman, I +hope I look like one; I can act like one at least: pay my way, pay for +this little spread, pay for your roses--what did you think when you saw +them?" + +Pauline did not take her eyes off him. She was alarmed, not believing +a word he said, and she did not answer with her usual spirit. + +"I thought them very wonderful of course in this out-of-the-way place. +Did you send for them?" + +"My lady is cautious. New for her. Where is our Gallic zeal and +impetuosity gone? You're afraid of me! I see it. You think I'm +drunk?" + +She shook her head, but her smile was somewhat wan. + +"Here, I'll convince you. Take my hands, both of them. Both of them, +I say. At once, madam." + +She did so and he drew her near, nearer, till their knees were touching. + +"Now you answer me. Are they steady?" + +"Yes." + +"Very reluctantly given. Are they quite steady and firm like your own +or like those of your parson friend?" + +"Oh, don't, don't! Yes--quite firm, quite steady." + +"You see! Now look at my eyes, look into them, lady dear. At once, +madam. You find that trying, do you, but persevere. Well--what do you +find? Are they wild, bloodshot, glazed, glaring? No? Only your image +therein. And by God, Pauline, there never was and never will be any +image half so beautiful, half so dear. That you must and will believe. +Well, then--no, don't draw your hands away--about this money, for I'm +perfectly sober and desirous of telling you the truth. You have the +right to know. One thing led to another, but the first of it was like +this. I've always been a scribbler in my lazy moments, as you know, +but perhaps you can't be expected to know that I have put care and +strong thought, art and heart both, into some verse that I occasionally +would take out and look over, and then lock away again. How could I, +forlorn and degraded, an outcast from society, hope to effect anything +in literature! Yet I never destroyed any of these pet lucrubations of +mine, and one day, a few months ago, I picked out a poem, copied it +fair when my hand wasn't shaking, and sent it to a magazine in England. +They took it--and I was so surprised that I went on a good long drunk. +But when I got straight again I found a handsome cheque awaiting me and +the hope, very warmly expressed by the way, that I would let him, the +editor, have many more in the same vein. Many more, mind you, with +cheques to match, so long as my industry holds out and I can find +enough to say. Now consider for a moment what that signifies to a man +like me, fallen so low, I confess it, ostracized and exiled, cut off +from all old associations and without hope of overcoming my fault +sufficiently to enable me to make a fresh start. It meant not only +money, but employment, and congenial employment. It meant that after +all, these years of leanness have not been wasted, that I have +something to say if I can only retain the knack, the trick, of saying +it in the way people will like, the public like. This alone would be +much, but with it goes, you see, some money, so, as I said, one thing +brings another; and money after all, Pauline, is what many a man as +lost as I am mostly requires. It isn't as if I'd _had_ money, +squandered it and lost it; I never had it--I never had it." + +He paused, and for a moment there had sounded that high dangerous ring +in his voice she knew so well, and Miss Clairville drew her hands away. + +"But that was not all," she said coldly. "You spoke of something else, +of two things that had happened. What was the other?" + +"The second grew out of the first, out of what I have told you. The +poems--they were a couple of ranch episodes,--I'll let you see them +presently--were signed by my full name, Edmund Crabbe Hawtree. I never +supposed any one I knew would see them, or seeing them trouble their +heads about the writer; in fact, I never thought about the matter. But +somebody did see them and did remember me, and did take the trouble to +find out who I was, and where I was, and I've had within the last +fortnight two letters from a well known firm of lawyers in London +informing me that I am without doubt the man they have been searching +for during the past year, and that quite a respectable little fortune +awaits me. There have been a few deaths in the family; I am next of +kin and so that's all there is about it. Simple as you like, but true +beyond a doubt, and so I thought I'd celebrate the event to-night with +you, Pauline, and perhaps confer with you--you woman of the world, with +your knowledge of life and of me--of me, alas! Me at my worst, +Pauline, but let us hope really my worst." + +He rose and walked around the room, unconscious of the dark shadow that +also walked austerely outside the window. "This money--it is a great +thing that has happened to me. It is difficult to realize. Don't mind +my walking up and down; it soothes me and I'm excited too, I think." + +Pauline seemed dazed. + +"Is there a title? Is it much--the money that has been left you, I +mean? Very much?" + +"A good deal, but no title." And Crabbe could not and did not try to +suppress the satisfied smile which told how he had gained in +self-respect during the last few days. + +"I expect you'll think it a good deal. Of course in England it will be +different. There must be two houses with it; a town house--no, that +was sold a long while ago, I believe; anyway, there would be more to do +with it over there than on this side. I wonder how soon I ought to go." + +"Go! You are going! But how much is it?" + +"Oh! Didn't I say? About ten thousand; pounds you know, Pauline, +pounds, not dollars." + +"Ten thousand pounds!" + +"A nice little sum, lady dear?" + +"All that money yours?" + +"Yes, and not a penny too much, not a penny too much. I have to +revenge myself on fate, or Providence, or whatever you call it, for +these years of misery. I have to think of what I might have done and +lose no time in doing it. Pauline, I must think of you." + +A softer mood held him now and he dropped upon his knee and laid his +head upon her lap, but she could not follow his swift changes of +emotion; the mention of the money had obliterated every other thought, +and whether it was the woman in her or the potential miserliness of her +race--the Clairvilles were traditionally stingy--she seemed unable to +get away from the mere image of the ten thousand pounds. + +"But, _Mon Dieu_, what a great change there will be! You will be +everything and I shall be nothing! A poor actress, a doubtful lady! +Oh! I shall be nothing to you, I can see, I can see! _Mon Dieu_, but +this is only to bring more trouble upon me!" + +Crabbe, as he will still be called, was at this much astonished. To do +him justice he had for some time, ever since Ringfield's advent in the +village in fact, found himself wishing that he might sincerely reform +and offer Pauline the honour of marriage, and with it some hopes of a +respectable competence. + +"What nonsense are you saying?" he returned angrily. "Isn't money what +we both require, what we have always required? And here it is now, as +much as we want, and more, a great deal more, than we deserve or we +expected! Why, I'll marry you now, Pauline, and you'll keep me steady; +you and the travel and all the strangeness and the glory of it. You +don't need any educating, any furbishing up--thank Heaven you were +always a lady!--but we'll go abroad, of course, for a while and I'll +show you Paris, Pauline, Paris, where you told Father Rielle you wanted +to go and act; and you shall buy all you want at the shops, and I'll +take you to the Louvre. Oh, yes, and you must go and see Mme. +Bernhardt if she is acting; you might have been her rival if you'd +begun earlier, with your moods and fancies and tempers. Then we'll +come back to London, and I'll take you for a day to my old lodgings in +Jermyn St., just to square up things. Then we'll progress quietly to +the Towers, Langmere, Suffolk; that's the estate; not the most +interesting of counties, but everything will be new and equally +interesting to you, and thus we'll sober down to the regulation old +English married couple. Dost like the picture, my lady of St. Ignace, +my _châtelaine_ of Clairville?" + +"Always Clairville, always St. Ignace." She clasped her hands above +her head in weariness. "If something could happen like what you +describe, but no--it is impossible. They say that Henry's sight is +going now, that very soon he will not be able to walk about by himself +at all, that he is better in body but worse in mind, that he is +forgetting all caution and speaking openly of the child--what is to be +the end of it?" + +"If anything could happen! Something _has_ happened. What I am +telling you is true. I am rich, able to take care of you, to put an +end to this sordid existence; you shall be taken away from Henry and +the child, and the old associations. Don't you believe me?" + +"I should like to; but it's too much, too sudden, too good to be true." + +"But it _is_ true; here are the letters; here is money, a little of +what is due, and here are the poems. You see, even if there were any +mistake, any hitch about the estate, I still have a career open to me. +There's an old manuscript novel of mine lying about somewhere; I +believe I can get that taken; and I feel, I know there's something in +it,--life, truth, suffering! But there's no hitch, no mistake, I swear +it to you, Pauline; and whenever you're ready, I am; and we will, in +melodramatic language, fly together from these dreary wilds. +Fortunately residence at St. Ignace doesn't imply creditors. I've +taken a room here at Poussette's, and I shall live in comfort for the +short time that may elapse before we start. One thing, I hope, I hope, +I shall keep sober. Would you take me if you thought I wouldn't, lady +dear?" + +He sat, stooping forward, his hair slightly disarranged, his blue eyes +no longer choleric but gently smiling. She realized that he was still +goodlooking, still a gentleman, a man of culture and even talent, young +enough to move the world, and almost as young in appearance as herself; +for mental anxiety and care of any kind always showed directly in her +mobile features, and she was already beginning to track a few grey +hairs and a few unbecoming wrinkles. + +"There's another reason," she said evasively. "You have no idea how +persistent this young man, the minister, has become. I have warned +him, I have told him--not everything, of course, but a great deal--yet +still he follows me, and to-day, I cannot remember what I said; but I +have certainly led him to expect that I shall marry him." + +"What! The parson! I thought you had more sense. Never do, never in +the world. And now in the light of my proposals, see what you would be +throwing away." + +"But he is very earnest, very determined. He may keep me to my word. +He may not get over it if I refuse, if I manage to leave St. Ignace +with you." + +Crabbe laughed and kissed her lightly on the ear. He said nothing, but +produced first letters and papers from his pocket and then a small +case. Pauline opened it; a pair of beautiful ear-rings flashed in the +lamp light. In her ears were the imitation ones; she thought no longer +of anything but whisking these out and putting on the others. Together +they studied the papers and read the letters; and before they parted +for the rest of the night she had promised to be ready in a month to +marry him wherever he would prefer to have the ceremony performed, and +to go abroad with him. She was to say that he had certainly come into +some money but not to say how much; she was to busy herself with making +arrangements for her brother's future comfort, as in all probability +the pair would never revisit St. Ignace; and she was to make in +particular a visit of a few days to Hawthorne on special and private +business connected with the child Angeel. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +A RURAL AUTOCRAT + + "The discipline of slavery is unknown + Amongst us--hence the more do we require + The discipline of virtue." + + +The presence of Enderby at the Tremblay concert had not been altogether +due to the excellence of the programme or the merit of the +beneficiaries; he had in fact driven over with the intention of +speaking to Ringfield on a subject of some importance--the future of +the child in the basket chair. This excellent but domineering +storekeeper was the leader of society at Hawthorne; the settlement was +not rich in old families, either English or French, and very early in +his career he and his wife had taken the helm and continued to hold it, +preserving strict notions of etiquette and maintaining a decorous state +which would have become the Lieut.-Governor of a Province. Large, +stern and florid, he was always the same in manner whether serving +behind his counter or taking up the money on Sundays: shining example +of intelligence, thrift, and British insularity, such a man as Clarence +Enderby carries the love of British institutions all over the globe, +and one forgives his syntax for the sake of his sincerity. He had +always been a fiery conservative and a staunch member of the Church of +England; and two or three months before Ringfield's arrival he had +organized what was known to all beholders passing his shop by a +japanned sign hanging outside as the "Public Library," a collection of +forty-seven volumes of mixed fiction in which the charming and highly +illuminative works of E. P. Roe were chiefly conspicuous, reposing in a +select corner of the establishment, somewhat towards the centre, and +equidistant from the dry goods, rubbers, hardware and hammocks, and +from the candies, groceries, fancy jewellery and sheet music. The +proprietors of these country "general stores" are great men in their +way: years ago they rolled up fortunes for themselves in their +district; potential Whiteleys and Wanamakers, they were the true +pioneers in the departmental store business, and on a lilliputian scale +"Enderby's" would have compared very well with the Army and Navy Stores +of London. Absence of competition creates a monopoly, and Enderby's +was the best store in a large district including Hawthorne, St. Ignace, +Beauscley, his only rival being the Yankee referred to by Crabbe, who +did not, however, bear a very good character, having been detected in +smuggling some of those old French brandies and liqueurs, although he +was outwardly a teetotaller and his place had no licence. Enderby, on +the other hand, always drank a glass of beer with his Sunday dinner; +indeed, the arrival of the malt of which his wife and daughter also +partook, was a part of Sunday observance, while on birthdays and other +anniversaries wine or toddy made their appearance. But extreme +regularity and temperance in all things was a strong feature of his +character, and he was therefore exceedingly jealous of the honour and +good moral standing of the village, and the harbouring of Angeel had +been for a long time a matter involving much worry. At the picnic +Ringfield's ill-timed allusion to "sinners" had hurt him most +particularly, and the more he thought of it the more he grew convinced +that the minister could throw some light on the origin of the child and +the manner in which it had come to be living at Hawthorne; for up to +the present time almost complete ignorance prevailed. This was in +itself extraordinary since the area was so small and the population so +settled, but shrewd guessers were nearly hitting the mark when they +supposed, from certain memories, inferences, and coincidences, that the +child belonged to Miss Clairville, and this was precisely the point +which offended the store-keeper; had the affair originated in his own +parish, no matter how disreputably, he would have guarded the secret, +striven to make the best of it, or, if the case abounded in direct +violations of morality by those above him in station, all the more he +would have preserved an absolutely rigid silence. His contention +was--that the business belonged to some other parish, probably that of +St. Ignace, and that when strangers, ignorant of this, visited +Hawthorne, they took it for granted that Angeel was part of the +village, thus bringing undeserved slur and unmerited obloquy upon an +innocent community, and he took advantage of the concert to ask for a +few words with Ringfield. The latter had just been compelled to +witness the desertion of Pauline as she went off with Crabbe and Miss +Cordova when he turned to find Enderby waiting to speak to him. +Poussette had withdrawn. + +"I hardly know, sir, just how I ought to introduce the subject," said +the butcher, in his loftiest manner, eyeing the minister up and down. +"For I have hardly ever spoke to a clergyman of your denomination +before." + +Ringfield with a somewhat constrained smile assured the speaker that he +was mortal and fairly rational, although he was a Methodist. + +"Yes, of course, I know that, and there is those who might have found +great enjoyment in that there prayer you gave us, sir, some time back, +great profit I may say, without fear of exaggeration." + +"Prayer?" repeated the other, for a moment forgetting the incident +alluded to. "Oh, yes, I know what you mean; it was, I understand, a +trifle long for the occasion, a trifle long perhaps, but I spoke from +my heart and with my heart, and I forgot probably that you were all +waiting, and the viands were kept waiting too and so forth. I shan't +offend again, I hope." + +"I 'ope not, sir, I 'ope not. Now this evening you did it all to +perfection, and all were very much obliged to you." + +"Thank you, thank you very much," said Ringfield, his gaze wandering +off to the hall where glimpses of drapery and musical clinking of +bangles and bracelets assailed his senses. Miss Clairville was never +without earrings and other jewelry, and if the proper idea of ornament +is to attract attention to the parts thus graced, in her case there was +reason for her wearing such, since she possessed both beautifully +shaped ears and fine hands and arms. + +"But, sir, the length of prayers is not all! Some of us could--I say +this without fear of exaggeration--could go through the entire Litany +and the Apostles' Creed backwards, which would take a man some time, +and yet what would be the good of it? Stands to reason, sir, there +must be something more than length, mere length of time in prayers." + +"Of course, of course. You are quite right, Enderby." + +"There must be appropriateness and truth and feeling, but none of it +must bear too direct, says you--on the parties present or the occasion, +be it wedding or funeral, or christening, or a mere social affair like +the Harvest Home yonder. I see how it is with you; you can't always +help it, for you can't always control your thoughts and likewise your +words, not having no notes." + +"But what did I say amiss on that occasion?" began Ringfield, nervously +divining that this lecture was but the prelude to the statement that in +some way he had offended. "I am quite sure, I am positively certain, +that I had no intention of using words or phrases which were the +reverse of appropriate or true, yet you seem to think that I was thus +unfortunate." + +Enderby gave a great sigh. "If you don't remember you mustn't find +fault with my remembering, for it made quite a stir at the time. It +quite took my wife's appetite away, sir." + +"What did?" said Ringfield shortly. + +"Your saying in that grieved, yet bold way, that we were all sinners, +and that sinners were sitting even then at that very board." + +"Was that all?" exclaimed the minister with sudden relief, and an +uncontrollable smile. "Surely you are accustomed to that. Surely you +do not consider yourselves in Hawthorne to be so perfect, so +infallible, as to be beyond criticism and impatient of censure! If so, +all I can say is I am very glad I used those terms, and I should say, I +should think, that no matter what Church you belong to, you, Enderby, +would see the absurdity of rating me for offering a prayer couched in +the language most natural to me, and of which I am not ashamed. Do you +deny that we are all sinners?" + +"I do not, sir, and that is just what my wife and others complains of. +You did not content yourself with saying we were _all_ sinners; you +said 'if any sinners lurked at the board,' as if pointing the finger, +and it is for an explanation of that I have come to you to-night, sir. +We all felt that the presence at the feast of the unfortunate little +girl you of course observed, must 'ave 'ad something to do with it, and +I think you ought to know, coming among us as you did, and may do +again, just how we felt about it. I'll tell you all I know, and then +I'd be obliged if you, sir, would tell me what you know." + +Ringfield looked helplessly around but there was no hope of diverting +Enderby's attention; he must go through with it and only trust that he +might be believed, and once again that slight sense of the ludicrous +came upon him. Tragedy was in the air; yet, as often happens in real +life, it was being pushed to comedy point, and he grudged even the +shadow of a jest at this important crisis in his dealings with Miss +Clairville, who was now sitting at supper with the new edition of +Crabbe. + +"You had better take a chair, Enderby," he said, setting the example. + +"Thank you, sir, and I 'ope I am not detaining you. I wish to say, +sir, that now for eight years the constant presence of the child and +its nurse in our little village has been a source of much trouble and +talk. We are a united and respectable, most respectable community, +sir." + +The sternness with which this remark was given led Ringfield to say +soothingly, "I am sure you are--it is, I mean. I am quite sure you +are." + +"Not only respectable, and has always been so, but superior." + +"Yes, yes, I understand." + +"And therefore it goes against our grain to 'ave 'arboured the +maid--that's what we used to call them in England--and the time has +come, I think, to do something about it." + +"I see. Yes, the position is a difficult one. How did she come to the +village in the first place? She was not born there, then?" + +"No, sir, I am thankful to say, unless greatly and cruelly deceived. +The manner of her coming, or rather of her being found, was this; the +young person who has charge of her, who is now about twenty-three by +all counts, has always been light headed, and cannot or will not, +explain clearly who she is or where she comes from. All we know of her +is that she came here with the child one stormy night in the middle of +winter, just like the stage or a story book, appearing at the Rectory +and carrying an anonymous letter begging for shelter and charity. Mr. +Abercorn found them--it was on Christmas Eve--and he took them in to +his wife and she to the kitchen. The girl was a pretty dark-haired +slip of fifteen or so, with the light manner and the gay laugh you may +have noticed, gay but empty, and could give no account of herself; the +child not as bad as she has since grown to be, but already strange +looking, and some thought as stupid as the girl." + +An exclamation of dismay escaped from Ringfield. + +"Better if it had been!" he cried. + +"Well, I may say that I agree with you, sir. The rector and his wife +got a home for them in the village, and although we have learned +something about them it is very little, and as the money for their +support comes from here, I thought it time, sir, to look more +thoroughly into the affair." + +"From here? You are sure?" + +Ringfield was ready to defend, even shield, Miss Clairville if +necessary. + +"It was brought or sent by one of the servants at the Manor House out +by the lake. Without fear of exaggeration, sir, I may state that we +'ave long known this to be the case; Antoine Archambault, the young man +around this room not ten minutes ago, is the bearer, and he, I suppose, +knows all about it--the girl is apparently his sister, or in some way +related to him--but I wouldn't care to talk to him about it and so, +sir, I come to you." + +"But I know nothing!" exclaimed Ringfield, rising. "Nothing whatever, +not nearly as much as you do. It is no use speaking to me upon the +matter. I cannot assist you in the least. What do you propose to do?" + +"Why," said Enderby, flushing a darker red and rising ponderously, +"this is what we propose to do, for we're tired of the affair, as isn't +ours, and never was by right. The child will soon be grown up, if it +lives, and it's getting stronger on its legs every day and will soon be +playing with the other children. We don't want it--we don't want it +any longer at Hawthorne, and we propose to find the parents and bestow +it again upon those to whom it originally belonged. That's what we +propose, and we look to you, sir, to help us." + +"Whom do you suspect, or have you direct proof and knowledge?" +Ringfield, to whom the situation was full of anguish, could hardly +frame his sentences. "Pray recollect," he continued, "that in these +unhappy cases it is not always wise, not always necessary, to press the +matter home. I am a strong believer in the natural expiation that +people undergo who allow themselves to err in these directions; the +mere fact that the person or persons responsible for Angeel have had +her removed to a distant parish while still caring for her shows how +deeply the affair has been felt. I would not advise you to be hasty." + +"'Asty--says you--'asty? After a matter of eight years? I'm sorry I +didn't begin before this," cried the exasperated storekeeper, holding +the virtues and morals of all Hawthorne as it were in his hand. "You +ask me if I suspect any one and I answer--that I do," and he huskily +whispered Miss Clairville's name. + +Knowing what would be expected of him, Ringfield strove to appear even +more greatly shocked than he was, and retreated a step or two in +consternation. + +"Be very careful," he managed to say sternly, "be extremely careful how +you thus refer to a lady who bears, I am told, a very high character in +her native place, even if she has been obliged to seek the town and the +theatre for her living." + +"You 'ave not heard this mentioned before?" + +"Never." + +"But Miss Clairville attends your church?" + +"She certainly has attended a few of the services, but I do not think +she has ever openly made a profession of the faith; she remains at +heart, I think, a Catholic. Perhaps," said Ringfield, lamely, "you +might see Father Rielle about this. As parish priest and as a friend +of her brother's he would be the proper person to advise you. And now, +having assured you that I know nothing more than I have learnt in the +last few moments from yourself, you must excuse me if I leave you. It +is late, and I perceive your wife and daughter are growing restless in +the hall. Are you driving back to Hawthorne to-night?" + +"I am," returned Enderby, hastily looking at his watch; "but I shall +come over again, sir, and see what can be done. In the meantime, will +you not assist me in some way--by speaking to Antoine, who has picked +up a little English, or by conferring with the priest?" + +Ringfield hesitated. + +"The question is," he replied, "whether as this affair is now +practically inside another parish and another village, I have any +business to interest myself in it at all. Well,--I will think about +it, Enderby, I will think about it, and possibly I may be able to help +you. You would like to get the child away? I see the propriety, even +the need of that." + +He suddenly thought of something which had not occurred to him before. +"How would it be if I were to assume control of the affair for you? +Supposing that without much trouble, I and Father Rielle look into the +matter and endeavour to remove the child from her present home and have +her admitted to some institution? Would you still insist on its being +done in such a way that parentage and--and so on, must all be made +clear?" + +Enderby was silent, but the angry flushing of his face had subsided a +little. Ringfield saw his chance and pressed it home. + +"Try and see if that would not be the better way--to let me control the +matter and quietly take the child away without any fuss and scandal and +naming of names. In the meantime I can make my inquiries and +communicate with you. Dr. Renaud now--he will be able to advise us, +and I should think your own rector and his wife, Mr. and Mrs. Abercorn, +for I hear the lady has done a great deal of the parish work; but if +you think it better to leave it entirely to me, I will see what can be +done." + +"The rector, sir, is easy, terrible easy in his ways; he would let +anything go on for any length of time to save trouble. +Well--good-night to you, sir, and you may expect to see me again soon." + +"Good-night, Enderby, good-night. We have had a very successful +entertainment, I think.--Here is Poussette going to turn us out; it's +after eleven!" + +An unusual hauteur in the Frenchman's demeanour did not escape the +minister, who was not, however, disposed to ask any questions. The +truth was--the unexpected turn in Crabbe's fortunes had been partially +explained to the host, but to no one else, and secrecy had been +impressed upon him. The ex-guide had displayed a wealth of money, had +received and dispatched letters and telegrams full of suggestive +mysteries, and--most wonderful of all--had not called for drinks. +Poussette was so far keeping his own vow made to Ringfield and Miss +Cordova, but at any moment an outbreak might occur, for excitement +breeds thirst even in sober individuals. + +Outside the lighted window walked Ringfield to and fro, waiting till +the Englishman should emerge and go to his shack, but as the reader +knows this did not happen. He saw the light carried about, then it +entirely disappeared, and afterwards two lights appeared upstairs, but +in opposite ends of the house; Crabbe had escorted Pauline to her door +and then betaken himself to the small room at one side which coincided +with that occupied by Miss Cordova at the other. It was not long +before everything was dark and quiet, and Ringfield, extremely baffled +and uneasy, turned to go home. But Alexis Gagnon, supposing the +minister upstairs and asleep, had locked the door, and now the only +mode of entrance possible was the undignified one of climbing the rude +fence and scaling the well-remembered balcony which led to his room. +This brought him very close to Pauline's chamber, looking on the +familiar balcony, but he could detect nothing wrong or unusual; +Poussette was wrapped in sleep and even Martin, the Indian guide and +choreman, had evidently long gone his rounds and entered the house. + +Ringfield could not be expected to understand the sudden change in +Crabbe's fortunes, and he spent the rest of that night in dreary and +bitter speculations as to the probable causes which had led Pauline to +desert him openly for the Englishman. Why had he not the power, the +audacity, the social courage which the guide undoubtedly possessed, to +seize her and bear her off bodily on these occasions? This--a relic of +savagery--would alone overcome the ease with which Crabbe confronted +him, and despite vices and faults usually carried off the palm. As one +progressed the other retrograded; the Englishman, dreaming of a good +name and character restored, lay peacefully beneath Poussette's roof, +not worrying about Pauline, for he knew that, short of the marriage +ceremony, he had the strongest right and authority any man could have +over her; while Ringfield, distrusting and suspecting every one around +him, tossed and sighed all night, wondering what stability there was in +her mind and what worth he might set upon her promises. Some +deterioration, some loss of fine simplicity, some decrease in his +healthy optimism, was already visible in his look and bearing; he in +his turn was discovering the impotence of Nature to heal, sooth, or +direct, and it might have been said of him that he began to go in and +out without noting the objects so suggestive and inspiring--the sky, +the thundering flood, the noble wood, the lonely river. As Crabbe had +cried to him in utter desolation of soul--what had Nature to do with a +man's heart and self and life? Nature mocked him, passed him by, +viewed him coldly. Poetry--did not Crabbe quote poetry? The +bitterness of Job, the pessimism of Solomon, began to colour his +attitude of mind, and thus by slow degrees his physical powers declined +from their original high level. He did not get enough sleep, he did +not eat enough food, he took long walks with his eyes on the ground, he +found visiting a bore and preaching a stumblingblock. Nothing saps the +strength like the rotting virus of jealousy; nothing so alters the face +and vilifies the expression as living in a state of perpetual dislike +and suspicion of any person or persons; as Crabbe's countenance +cleared, as his eye brightened and his complexion lost its dissipated +blotchy hue, Ringfield suffered by comparison. He seemed to fail in +some mysterious indefinable way; his thick hair looked thinner on his +temples, his eyes were larger and the set of his mouth reminded one of +Father Rielle in its slow, new writhing smile. If this were Love--how +should any escape? But not only Love, but Hate, and Doubt, and Fear, +were all warring in a good man's breast. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +THE NATURAL MAN + + "Wretched at home, he gained no peace abroad; + Asked comfort of the open air, and found + No quiet in the darkness of the night, + No pleasure in the beauty of the day." + + +Pauline, on retiring to her room, was naturally in a whirl of excited +feelings; never had she dreamt of escape from her surroundings under +such auspices as these. The new affection she had been nursing for +several months speedily melted as she lived over again the +extraordinary sensations of the past hour. Crabbe came in for some of +the glory; she congratulated herself on partly belonging to him, and +with characteristic quickness she amused herself, being too wide awake +for bed just then, in turning out her drawers and boxes and in tying up +the Grand Duchess costume and other accessories in a bundle which she +intended to leave as a present for Sadie Cordova. + +"I shall never require those again, thank Heaven!" said she to herself +as she moved about the plain little room, "or these stage paints and +other 'fixings' as Sadie calls them." + +The imitation earrings went into the bundle; her old sealskin coat and +muff and some photographs of herself and associates in theatrical +costume. It was a case of "on with the new life" carried out with that +conviction and sincerity that distinguished all Miss Clairville's +actions. If she was to marry a rich Englishman, and go to England with +him, travel and keep a maid, she would do it thoroughly; the stage as +well as "Poussette's," the Hotel Champlain as well as Henry and Angeel +must be completely blotted out, else there could be no happiness for +her. Yet at moments there survived, along with this directness of +upward aims, a curious sense of caution, of dislike to part with +certain relics of value, or anything that had figured in her theatrical +life; the Clairville instinct was atavistically working against the new +creature, Pauline; heredity asserting itself in the midst of new and +promising environment. + +The next few days brought remarkable changes, veiled by great care and +deliberation on Crabbe's part. He gave up the shack to Martin and had +a bonfire of his effects. He read the Montreal advertisements of +clothing, and sent for a complete wardrobe and two large trunks, yet +his manner to the few at Poussette's was sufficiently repressed to +discourage curiosity. Every hour Pauline expected him to leave her, be +mysteriously lost, then reappear sullen and sodden, but nothing of the +kind occurred. The news of his rehabilitation had spread, but the +community was too small and the place too remote to understand it +thoroughly; meanwhile, the virtuous aspect of both himself and Amable +Poussette was almost enough to drive a man to drink, so depressing was +the atmosphere of the bar--that place once so cheerful! The lemons +grew dry and crinkled one by one; the lager glasses gradually came to +require dusting; the spirit bottles were discreetly put behind almanacs +and large advertisements of "Fall Fairs"; over all was settling a +blight born of conversion and sobriety. Pitiful to relate--the person +who should have been most pleased and interested in this moral +spectacle was bitterly dubious; Ringfield would not, at this stage, +consent to believe in Crabbe's reformation, but winced and shied at +reports of altered prospects. The subject was easily of first +importance to all at Poussette's, but the Englishman's disdain of +explanations and Pauline's fine-lady air precluded much reference to +the matter; the minister could only accept the position. + +And what was the position? Had not Miss Clairville given him a certain +soft and memorably tender answer, turning away all his jealous wrath; +and filling his soul with "Comfort and Joy, Comfort and Joy"? Had not +his lips pressed hers, his embrace enveloped her yielding form, her +eyes, melting and languorous, drooped before his fiery ones? Were +these things nothing to her, while to him they almost constituted a +marriage? Even with daily evidence of the strongest, he could not +bring himself to believe that she was anything but true. + +Once they met in the wood, face to face, and there could be no excuse +on her part, no elegant evasion of the relations between them, as with +those chilling superior accents she persevered in ignoring the past. +Snow was again on the ground, every twig encased in a round tube of +glassy ice through which showed the grey, brown, or black stem, for a +wonderful glissade had followed the milder weather. The pendent +branches were freighted with soft, white tufts and cushions, and just +as Miss Clairville met Ringfield, under his heavier tread there broke a +large arm of larch stretched across the path. Thus he was compelled to +halt; the rebound and crash had sent snow flying all over her face and +clothes, and naturally he began to brush it off. She kept her hands in +her muff--the old one after all, for Crabbe's purchase had not yet +arrived--and regarded him, with some abatement, it is true, of the +aristocratic hauteur she wore so loftily at Poussette's, but still with +an air far removed from the intimate and sympathetic self she had +revealed in their first meetings. + +"I believe you would have passed me!" said he bitterly, forcing that +raw and unpleasant smile. "If it had been a street, I mean, with +anyone about, or coming out of church! Surely nothing that has +happened can justify you in avoiding me like this!" + +"Avoiding you?" She opened her large eyes in haughty incredulity. +"Why, I have been waiting for an opportunity like this to meet you and +talk it over! tell you something about myself, rather. What odd ideas +you get, _bizarre, mon ami_! Have you heard about my friend, Mr. +Hawtree?" + +Ringfield answered unintelligibly, looking away from her. + +"Have you not? Oh--you have! I thought it very likely. Well, he has +come into a little money; more than a little, indeed, but I am not to +tell. How then--do you think I shall be able to keep the secret? I am +the bad one at that, sure,--as Mr. Poussette would say." + +By degrees her old racy manner returned, and looking over her muff she +permitted her eloquent mischief-making eyes to speak. "What else have +you heard?" + +"That--you are going to marry him." + +"Ah--and that, of course, you do not believe!" + +"For the matter of that, I never believe anything you say. How can I, +how can anyone? You promised me--you know, what--and here you coolly +talk to me about this other man, this wreck of a man, this sot, this +Crabbe! And he is not the only one, I daresay Poussette gets his pay +sometimes, and perhaps the priest as well!" + +"Gets his--pay! _Mon Dieu_, but it is you, you, to insult a woman! +Yes, to insult me!" + +"I am not intending it, I am not aiming insult, but I know whereof I +speak. I impute no more than this; no man works for nothing. If +Poussette harbours you, as he does, he must exact something, if only +silly songs and smiles, the faculty of amusing him now that he has +dropped drinking, and must feed his lower senses in some manner. I +impute no more--no more than frivolity and waste of time, the abasement +of impulses noble enough in themselves." + +"Oh--what a creed, what a creed! I deny such a charge, such an +imputation. I sing and act before Mr. Poussette as I would before you, +and Miss Cordova too. We are artists--do you know what that means, Mr. +Ringfield? And suppose we do not pay--what is that? Mr. Poussette is +agreeable to the arrangement, it is a plentiful house, and always more +than enough in it to eat and drink. I am Ma'amselle de Clairville and +Sadie Cordova is my friend. We take our holiday here--that is all. +_Ma foy_, but why must every one anger me? Why do you purposely +misunderstand?" + +She stamped her foot and trembled. + +"I have only one thing to ask you. Do you intend to--my God, that I +should have to ask it--to marry him?" + +"_Certainement_." A return to her natural manner was characterized by +more French than she customarily used. "I am considering it, thinking +of it, as you did when coming to St. Ignace." + +"Considering it! And when--when--is it likely to be?" + +"Oh--that is for him, for Mr. Hawtree to decide, but I think it will be +at Noël, Christmas time, and in Montreal. Next week I pay some visits; +after that I go to the Hotel Champlain, in Jacques Cartier Square, to +prepare myself for my new _rôle_, you see." + +"Your new _rôle_? But are you not then leaving the theatre? Oh--I +understand now, I see what you mean. And you think this is your duty, +to end your life thus by consenting to marry this man?" + +"To end my life? to begin it rather. Believe me--it is better for me +so." + +Great distress showed in Ringfield's voice and bearing; he was in that +state of mind when it became necessary to insist upon his sufferings, +to rehearse his wrongs, and thus an hour wore away in the petty strife +which in his case was characterized by ceaseless strivings to win again +that place in her heart filched from him by her old lover; on her part +the quarrel and the cold weather acted equally in stimulating her to +fresh coquetries. Farther and farther they withdrew into the heart of +the snowy wood, till, when quite remote, they sat down on a fallen log, +beautiful in summer with mosses, lichen and waving ferns, now converted +to a long white cylinder, softly rounded at either end. Here +Ringfield's ardour and his conscientious feelings for her future broke +out in a long and impassioned speech in which he implored her to change +her mind while there was time and to remember her warm promises to +himself. He did not embrace her, and throughout his discourse, for +such it might aptly be termed, he was more the saviour of souls than +the lover. + +"And although I claim no reward for the fact," he concluded sternly, +"it is due me, when I tell you that I know all about that poor child at +Hawthorne, poor Angeel, and that I am going to take the whole matter on +myself and remove her to a more suitable home and surroundings." + +Miss Clairville flushed an angry red. "You--you know all?" she +repeated. "But how--how did you find out? You have seen Henry, +perhaps--oh! you have been talking to him, my poor brother!" + +"No," returned Ringfield. "You forget that people talk to me, bring +these stories to me, make me the recipient of confessions. I have seen +and I have heard, therefore I know. But I will do as I have said. I +shall write to the proper people to look after Angeel, and I shall see +that she is removed before long from Hawthorne." + +"Where to?" + +"Perhaps to a hospital; that of the Incarnation at Lalurette." + +"But that is a Catholic institution!" + +"So much the better." + +"This is extremely kind, extremely generous of you!" said she, in her +most English, and therefore haughtiest manner. "But I myself have had +the same intention. We can work together, I suppose!" + +"No, I prefer that you leave this to me." + +To this she replied sneeringly, and a new cause of recrimination ensued. + +Pauline rose abruptly from the snowy mound and walked to the road, +Ringfield following her, and they did not know that never again on this +earth and during this life would they meet thus--part thus--alone, with +full opportunity to say what they thought, what they wished. + +Sadness fell on both as they shortly went different ways, but whereas +the lively nature of one was soon occupied gaily at Poussette's with +fresh purchases to look at and approve, in the other grief was +succeeded by a gathering of all his forces, as he mentally resolved +(swore, to rightly translate his indomitable mood) to prevent the +marriage. For this was what he had arrived at; nothing more nor less, +and how it might be done haunted him continually as he walked by night +on the frozen road, or sat at meals within sound of Crabbe's cynical +and lettered humour, and within sight of Pauline's white hands on which +gleamed a couple of new and handsome rings. + +She must not marry him! That became the burden of his thought, and the +time-limit of three weeks, bringing it to Christmas Eve, was to him as +the month before execution of the condemned criminal. + +She must not marry him! What then, could or in all likelihood would, +prevent this consummation? The hours flew by and he thought of no +plan. The hard weather still held and grew harder, colder, until the +great drifts blocked all the roads, and St. Ignace was cut off from the +outside world. Still, any hour a thaw might set in and, at the worst, +the railway was hardly ever impracticable for more than a couple of +days. Delay there might be, but one could see that Crabbe would not +refuse to welcome even delay; he sat at the head of the chief table +clad in the regulation tweeds of the country gentleman, and with a kind +of fierce and domineering inflation in his manner that subdued the +irrepressible hilarity of Poussette, threatening to break out again, +for by way of keeping his pledge as to liquor, he seemed to take more +beer than was necessary or good for him. The Cordova, held as a +willing witness and prospective bridesmaid, had to "learn her place" +under the new _régime_, and felt fully as miserable as she looked, for +now no longer revelry graced the night. Poussette's unnaturally long +face matched with Pauline's hauteur and Crabbe's careless air of +mastery; he, the sullen cad, the drunken loafer, having become the +arbiter of manners, the final court of appeal. One day Ringfield had +been lashed to even unusual distress and mortification by the offensive +manner of the guide, who in the course of conversation at the table had +allowed his natural dislike of Dissent and Dissenters to show; "damned +Methodists," and all that sort of talk. The very terms annoyed +Ringfield; they savoured of the Old Country, not of Canada, where +denominational hatred and bigotry should be less pronounced, and as he +left the room Poussette joined him in the hall. + +"Bigosh, Mr. Ringfield, sir--but I don't know how you stand that talk +so long--no, sir, I don't know at all!" He patted the other on the +back. + +"Well, Poussette, I must do the best to stand it that I know how. You +and I agree about a good many things. Tell me--do you believe +that--that Mr.--that he is really a reformed man, really changed in his +habits? And is he going to marry Miss Clairville? You are around with +him a good deal; you are likely to know." + +"The day is feex," returned Poussette without enthusiasm. "The day is +feex, and I am bes' man." + +"What do you think about it, though? Don't you think he'll break out +again?" + +Ringfield's anxious bitter inflections could not escape Poussette. +"Ah-ha! Mr. Ringfield, sir--you remember that I wanted Miss Clairville +for myself? Bigosh--but I have got over that, fine! Sir, I tell you +this, me, a common man--you can get over anything if you make up the +mind. Fonny things happens--and now I snap the finger at Mlle. +Pauline. Why? Because I feex up things with Mees Cordova even better." + +"Mme. Poussette----" began Ringfield. + +"Mme. Poussette is come no more here on me at all, I tell you. No more +on St. Ignace at all." + +"But you cannot _marry_ Miss Cordova, Poussette!" + +"I know very well that, Mr. Ringfield, sir. No. For that, sir, I will +wait. My wife must die some day! Mees Cordova will wait too; she will +_ménager_ here for me, and I will threat her proper--oh! you shall see +how I will threat that one!" Poussette seductively nodded his head. +"I will threat her proper, sir, like a lady. Mme. Poussette--she may +stay with Henry Clairville all the rest of her life! I would not take +her back now, for she leave me to go nurse him, and not threat me +right. No sir, not threat me, her husband, Amable Poussette, right at +all." + +"I'm in no mood for these difficult distinctions in morality!" cried +Ringfield in exasperation. "What day is this wedding--tell me that!" + +Poussette gave him the day and hour--eleven o'clock in a certain +Episcopal church in Montreal on the 24th of December, and then they +parted. + +From this moment a steady pursuit of one idea characterized Ringfield's +actions. Already charged to explosive point by pressure of emotions +both worthy and the reverse, he immediately entered into correspondence +with several charitable institutions with regard to Angeel, and he also +wrote to Mr. Enderby and Mr. Abercorn. It was now the ninth of the +month and the snow still held. Sobriety still held and long faces; the +American organ was never opened, and Pauline and her satellite, Miss +Cordova, were mostly buried in their bedrooms, concocting an impromptu +trousseau. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +THE TROUSSEAU OF PAULINE + + "--the whole domain + To some, too lightly minded, might appear + A meadow carpet for the dancing hours." + + +"Tra-la!" sang Miss Clairville, as she pressed heavily on the folds of +a purple cloth skirt which had once done service in the "Grand +Duchess," but was now being transformed by hot irons, rows of black +braid and gilt buttons into a highly respectable travelling dress. + +"I thought at first of giving this old thing away, but see how well +it's going to look, after all!" + +The Cordova, busy heating an iron on the "drum" which stood in a corner +of the room, looked at the skirt and at first said nothing. + +"It's too dark for a bride's travelling-dress," she said after a while. + +"Do you think so? But not for a dark bride," said the other with an +uneasy frown. "Well, I'm not a girl, you see; besides, without a +sewing machine you and I could never manufacture an entire costume. I +meant to give it to you; in fact, I had it tied up in that bundle once, +then I changed my mind--woman's prerogative--and here it is." + +"Thank you, but I shouldn't care for it anyhow, purple's not my colour; +it looks awful with my kind of hair." + +Pauline glanced up coldly at the bleached head bending over the irons. + +"Perhaps it does. Well--it's too late now even if you did care for it. +I'll wear plenty of white around my neck and down the front; a cascade, +_jabot_ effect always suits me." + +She wound a white scarf around her as she spoke, and bent an old black +hat into a three-cornered shape on top of her head. + +"There, my dear, there is the true French face, only you don't know it! +If I could take you to my home, you would see--well, you would not see +much beyond Henry and his eternal books, though they tell me he reads +no more. I'm thinking of an old portrait I resemble." + +Miss Clairville now sat on the bed, having relinquished the work of +doing over the cloth skirt to her friend. + +"Why are you keeping that red and black dress there, the theatre dress? +You will never need that, travelling!" + +"No, I suppose not, only----" + +Pauline eyed the dress. The family trait of acquisitiveness combined +with a love of hoarding was asserting itself, and she could scarcely +make up her mind to part with things when the time came. Besides, this +dress carried her back to meetings with Ringfield, and again she saw +the passionate admiration in his eyes as they talked in whispers on her +balcony. + +"Oh--a fancy of mine! I look well in it. I wore it when Henry was +taken ill with the 'pic'." + +With a loud shriek Miss Cordova dropped an iron on the floor. + +"What is it now? _Quelle bétise_! Stupid--I wasn't with him! I +meant--about that time. But if you want the dress, take it, take it! +_Mon Dieu_! what a state your nerves must be in!" + +"I'm much better than when I came here," said Miss Cordova quickly. +"Say, Pauline,--did you know I thought of sending for the children?" + +"Your children? To come here?" + +"Yes. Now, Pauline, it sounds queer, I know, and worse than anything +I've ever done, yet--it isn't as bad as it sounds. But, but--well, I +may just as well out with it. Mr. Poussette has proposed!" + +"To you?" + +Miss Cordova stopped in her work. "Yes. He seems to be serious and I +like it here, like him too, so I guess we'll fix it up somehow. Of +course his wife's living, but she's not right in her head, so she don't +count." + +"And your two husbands are alive, but as one drinks and the other was +married when he met you, _they_ don't count." Miss Clairville was +staring in front of her. "My dear girl--have you never heard of such a +thing as bigamy? You're talking nonsense, and you must not allow Mr. +Poussette to get you into trouble. You can't marry him, Sara!" + +"Of course. I know that. But we are both willing to wait. Schenk +can't last long; he's drinking harder than ever from last accounts, and +Stanbury--well, perhaps I'd better stop short of saying anything about +English swells, but Charlie Stanbury had no right to me in the first +instance, and now I'm not going to let the faintest thought of him stop +me in my last chance of a home and quiet, peaceful living. +Oh--Pauline--I was never the same after I discovered how Stanbury +wronged me! Nothing seemed to matter and I went from bad to worse. +But since I've been here, I've seen things in a different light, and +I'd like to stay here and bring the children away from New York and let +them grow up where they'll never hear a word about their father or +about me and Schenk." + +She spoke with sad conviction, her eyes filling, her hands trembling as +she worked on at Pauline's skirt. + +"You'd give up the theatre and all the rest of it, and come and live at +St. Ignace if you could?" + +"Indeed I would, Pauline. Indeed, indeed I would." + +"This is too droll! For here am I, pining to get away and be free of +this place for ever! But that's because I belong here." + +"Yes, and because you have no children to think about. If you +had--you'd understand. While Schenk's alive he may find me any day in +New York, but I don't believe he'd ever think of looking for me here. +My mother'd know how to send the children along, I guess, and they'd +always have enough to eat and drink, and fresh air and a place to play +in, and I'm sure Mr. Poussette would be kind to them. You know he's a +funny-talking man, but he's got a real good heart, and Maisie and Jack +might have a good time here." + +"Yes, I know, but----" Miss Clairville's aristocratic and +sophisticated side was dubious. + +"But what? It's all very well for you, just making a fresh start, +getting married and going to Europe and wanting to see a little more of +the world than the Champlain House and St. Ignace, but I've had enough +of the world--too much! I want to bring up my children honest, honest +and respectable, and I can't do it, Pauline, in one room on Sixth Ave. +Maisie, now, wants to be out in the streets every evening; she'd +rather--than stay with me at the theatre even." + +"How old is Maisie?" asked Miss Clairville suddenly. + +"Why, she's most eleven years of age, I reckon. Let's see! I met +Stanbury in--seventy-seven; Maisie--yes, she's just eleven, and Jack's +nine and half. Say--wasn't it a good thing that I didn't have any +family to Schenk?" + +"How can you be so very vulgar!" said Miss Clairville with a curling +lip. "But I suppose it was a good thing--the Will of God--according to +Father Rielle. Eleven! And Angeel's nine. Nearly ten." + +"Angeel? Who's she? You don't mean to tell me that you----" + +"What do you mean?" said Miss Clairville fiercely. "What right have +you to imagine such things? I'll tell you some day about Angeel, but +just now I prefer to discuss something pleasant. We will resume our +packing, my dear. Here is this blanket coat. What am I to do with it?" + +"Give it away, of course. You'll never wear it again, Pauline, where +you're going!" + +"I know I shan't," replied Miss Clairville, compressing her lips as she +regarded with a critical eye the antiquated wine-red garment adorned +with a white sash, and tuque to correspond. "But I look so well in +this, too!" + +"If you don't want it, let me have it for Maisie. Why--it would be +just the thing for her, running around here all winter! Say, +Pauline--ain't it funny to think she's the child of an English swell? +Stanbury's from a real good family, I can tell you. I guess your Mr. +Hawtree would be likely to know all about him. You might ask him. +Then there's this white evening dress. My--it's dirty enough, goodness +knows! It ought to be French cleaned, but who's to do it in this +out-of-the-way place? Here are a lot of roses falling out of it--do +they belong to it?" + +"That's my Camille dress. The roses go around the skirt--see?--in +garlands: same around the waist and on the hair. I might turn it into +a _peignoir_, I suppose. But I think I will give it to you, Sara; you +can keep it till Maisie grows up and do it--how do you say?--do it over +for her. Is she fair or dark?" + +"Dark--just like Stanbury. Say, won't you tell me about Angeel now?" + +"No, no! _O--pour l'amour de Dieu_, don't drag her in at this time! +Haven't I enough to worry me? What shall I do if Edmund breaks out +again? I haven't seen him all day." + +Miss Cordova was very thoughtful for an instant. + +"Seems to me you ought to've had more under-clothes," she said +solemnly, and Pauline laughed. "And what you have got are far too +plain. My--the ones I saw just before I came away from New York! Say, +Pauline--there was twenty-five yards of lace, honest, to one nightgown!" + +"Was there? At Sorel we were not allowed one yard; frilly things, and +too much lace and ribbons are the mark of bad women. Did you ever hear +that?" + +"I guess my mother held some notions like those. She used to +say--quality was the thing, and was never satisfied till she got the +best lawn, soft as silk, but she never had much trimming on them. Cut +plain and full, was almost always her directions. Well, now--yes, I +guess you'll have to wait till you go to Paree before you replenish +that side of your wardrobe. Is your Mr. Hawtree free with his money?" + +"Yes, yes!" rejoined Pauline hurriedly. The fact being that after the +initial flourish and purchase of a few pieces of jewellery and other +trinkets Crabbe had tightened his purse-strings, as it were, not from +miserliness, but because it was necessary to use caution until they +reached London, when larger sums would be paid over on due recognition +of his identity. "Free enough for the present. As for me, I have +saved nothing, nothing! How could I, with this need for ready money +hanging over me? So I do not like to ask too much, just now, and, like +a man, he provides me with diamond earrings while I lack proper shoes +and an umbrella." + +"Take mine!" said Miss Cordova earnestly. "It's real silk and it won't +matter if there's an 'S' on the handle. It was his--Stanbury's." + +"My dear girl," cried Pauline, "I couldn't! You'll need it yourself. +See--it's silver mounted and valuable!" + +"I know it, and that's why I want you should have it. We've been good +friends, Pauline, even if there is a difference in our education, and +I'd like to give you some little thing. Do please take the umbrella." + +All Miss Clairville's latent womanliness sprang to the surface as she +jumped off the bed and enfolded her friend in a warm embrace. + +"God knows, you will never be forgotten by me, Sara! We've struggled +together too long for that. You have a sweet temper and a kind heart, +and _le bon Dieu_ takes note of that. I wish now you _could_ marry Mr. +Poussette, for I see that you'll miss me when I'm gone, and that's not +a bad idea about your children. I hope I'll never have any; I'd be +afraid, I'd be afraid. Well, I'll accept the umbrella then, _in +memoriam_ if you like. And you take the white dress, and these long +yellow gloves, and this sash for Maisie, and here's a _bijou_ imitation +watch and chain for Jack--eh? What's the matter?" + +Miss Cordova leant heavily on her friend. + +"They are calling us," she said. + +"Who are?" + +"I don't know. Listen! Some one's wanted. It's me. It's me. +Perhaps Schenk's come! Pauline, what shall I do?" + +"Absurd! No one can get here; you forget the roads and the snow. +Schenk? He is miles away!" + +"Then it's for you. Yes. They're coming up. Listen--it is you, +'Ma'amselle Clairville,' I hear them say!" + +"But why be so alarmed?" cried Pauline, and she threw open the door. + +Antoine Archambault and Poussette stood outside. + +"Your brother the seigneur is dying, mademoiselle," said Poussette, +"and desires to see you at once. There is no time to lose." + +"What is it?" asked Miss Cordova, not comprehending the foreign tongue, +and they told her. + +Miss Clairville's face changed. She trembled visibly, made the sign of +the cross--so potent is habit, so strong are traditions--but uttered +nothing. + +"She is ill!" said Miss Cordova, and she led her friend to a chair. + +"No, no, I am not ill. But I do not want to go. _Je ne le veux pas_. +I do not wish at all to go. I will not go, Sara!" + +"It's hard, I guess," said the other woman sympathetically, "but it's +natural he should want to see you before he dies. Of course, she'll +go, Mr. Poussette, and I'll go with her." + +"No, no!" said Pauline, starting up, "if I go it must be alone. But +why should I go?" + +She looked piteously from one to the other. "What good can I or anyone +do to him if he is dying? Perhaps there is some mistake." + +Antoine spoke in voluble French in accompaniment to Poussette's +gestures, and at the words she drooped appallingly. + +"Come, Pauline, perhaps it will not be so terrible after all. You were +going to visit him this week anyway." + +"I know, I know, but this is different, dreadful, startling. It makes +me so--I cannot describe. Who is with him? Only Mlle. Poussette! Oh, +why--why? It will spoil my marriage, Sara; perhaps it will prevent my +marriage!" + +"Nothing of the kind! No, no. You will be married the sooner, I +daresay. Where is Mr. Hawtree? Why don't he come up and talk to you?" + +"He is being driven with Alexis Tremblay to the station! A train may +pass through this morning." + +Pauline now recollected that he had gone to Montreal to make final +preparations for the wedding; among other things, the drawing up of an +antiquated contract according to the mixed law of the Province. A +sudden wish woke in her to run away and join him and so evade the +painful scene which must ensue if she obeyed her brother's commands. + +"Death's a dreadful thing anyway, I guess," remarked Miss Cordova to +fill in the silence, touching Pauline's thick loops of hair as she +spoke. "I just know how you feel." + +"_Mon Dieu_--be quiet, Sara! It isn't his death I mind so much as his +dying. Do you not see--he will make me promise, he will bother me into +something; dying people always do--I can't explain. If he would just +die and have done with it!" + +Even the men felt the unusual distress of mind which prompted this +outburst of selfish candour, and Miss Cordova drew away. + +"Seems to me your brother's in the hands of the Lord and I guess He's +mightier than you are. My mother's a New England woman and was always +afraid about my going on the stage, and I suppose I've gone wrong +_some_, but I couldn't, like you, go back on a poor, dying creature. +Say, Pauline, hadn't you better see a clergyman? Where's that young +man? Where's Mr. Ringfield?" + +"I do not require his services, thank you. But yes--you mean well. If +I'm anything, I'm a Catholic, my dear--and now take all these things +and put them away. I think I shall never _marier_ with anyone in this +world. I must go, I suppose. Antoine will drive, and I shall go +alone." + +Miss Cordova silently moved about the small room, not sharing in the +gloomy views of the prospective bride, for she carefully went on +packing the scanty trousseau which included badly mended _lingerie_, +the red dinner dress, and three gay satin waists bought by Crabbe in +the shops of St. Laurent, Main Street, one of canary and black lace, +another of rose colour, and a third of apple-green. There were veils +enough to stock a store, ties, collars, ribbons, small handkerchiefs +and showy stockings in profusion, with a corresponding dearth of strong +sensible clothing. The trousseau of Pauline was essentially French in +its airiness; its cheap splendours attested to one side of her peculiar +character and the sturdier and more sensible attributes of the _belle +Canadienne_ were for the time obliterated. The blanket coat and tuque +and the Camille dress were tied up by Miss Cordova for Maisie, and +within half an hour Pauline had departed with Antoine, and the others +lapsed to the unsettled calm which overtakes a community when it is +known that the inevitable must shortly occur. That unpleasant negative +condition of waiting for a death was now shared by all at Poussette's +as the news spread through St. Ignace. Father Rielle was seen to drive +away, and Dr. Renaud was already at the Manor House, but Ringfield, +shut up in his own room, reading and pondering, heard nothing of the +matter for several hours. However, Poussette and Miss Cordova, to +relieve tedium, went into the kitchen, where, secure from both Stanbury +and Schenk, the ex-actress took a lesson in cooking, by tea-time +producing pancakes so excellent that they rivalled if not excelled +those of her instructor. Indeed, with this happily met couple, time +flew by on feathered wings. Miss Cordova was quick on her feet, bright +in her talk, and her vivacity and grace charmed the susceptible +Frenchman, too long accustomed to the shrinking nervous figure of the +absent Natalie. She stood on chairs and renewed her youth, looking +into tins and boxes and bringing to light jams and biscuits the host +had forgotten. She sang snatches of Offenbach and Verdi, she beat the +eggs while Poussette made up his fire, and when he squeezed her hand or +put his fat arm around her waist she did not prudishly push him away, +but, gently resisting, rebuked him in such affectionate terms that he +politely restrained those damaging caresses. In short, she managed +Poussette instead of being persuaded by him, and this in itself pleased +her and restored her self-respect; her previous relations with Stanbury +and Schenk suffered by comparison, and if she secretly hoped for the +death or removal of Mme. Poussette it was with soft womanly compunction +and pity, and with stern resolves not to overstep the mark of purity. + +So--in this poor, obscure, half-educated soul, this Guinevere of lowly +life, burnt the flame of natural goodness. Ignorant of ritual, she had +long ago compiled a prayer for herself which ran; "O God--I wasn't a +good girl, and I haven't been a good woman, but I've tried to be a good +mother. Help me to be a Holy Saint after I die. Amen." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +THE SEIGNEUR PASSES + + "Mortality's last exercise and proof + Is undergone; the transit made that shows + The very soul, revealed as it departs." + + +Henry Clairville lay in the ancient and tattered bed which not even the +activities of Mme. Poussette could render more than moderately decent. +The sands of life were running out indeed; a great change was apparent +in his pinched and freckled features, and his small colourless eyes had +sunk entirely back into his head. Two large cats slept at his feet and +three more lay under the bed; despite all madame could do to remove +them, these five out of the fourteen persisted in returning again and +again to the familiar habitat which custom or attachment had made +necessary. Their brown tigery sides rose and fell peacefully in the +sound slumber induced by the plentiful fare of Clairville, but no sleep +came to their master. Occasionally he would stretch forth a withered +hand to try and stroke one or other of his pets, but they had gradually +slipped to the foot of the bed, their weight, which was considerable, +having formed a deep pit in the lumpy feather mattress. Mme. Poussette +sat in the room, Dr. Renaud across the hall in the faded _salon_, while +the priest arranged the holy office of the Blessed Sacrament in a +corner with his back turned, occasionally repeating aves and prayers +under his breath. + +Pauline's entrance, subdued from her native impetuosity to something +chastened and severe, was still out of harmony with the shabby carpet, +the patched counterpane, and the meagre daylight; she brought into the +room an extraordinary sense of brightness, and yet she had taken some +trouble to amend her costume and bring it within the range of things +sorrowful and sober. Her side face, in particular, nothing could tame; +the exquisite ear, defined by a diamond, showed youthfully against the +dark hair looped thickly just behind it, the full chin and curved lips +were always on the point, seemingly, of breaking into a smile, whereas +the front face betrayed both age and agitation by the vertical lines of +the forehead and by the strained expression of the eyes, oftener fiery +and worried than calm and pleasing. + +Mme. Poussette left her chair and approached the lady of the Manor, but +nothing more than a fleeting contemptuous glance did the latter bestow. +At the sight of Henry and the cats all her courage returned and a +measure of her temper. + +"I was sent for and I am here," she said, advancing to the middle of +the room with not a shred of kindness in her manner. Was it not as it +had always been--hateful, uncongenial, difficult? Why must she feign +hypocritical interest and sympathy? "And I know why you sent for me, +but I tell you, Henry, it is of no use. I will promise nothing." + +The seigneur moved heavily from his side to his back and weakly opened +his small eyes upon her. It was evident that he was clear in his mind. + +"You were sent for and you are here," he repeated, "but you did not +wish to come. Did not Nature work within you, bidding you come? Did +not sisterly love, sweet kinship, weigh with you at all?" + +"Not in the least," replied Miss Clairville coldly. She continued to +stand, although the other woman proffered a chair, nor did she unfasten +her fur coat or draw off her gloves. Her brother took note of this. + +"You had better sit," he murmured. + +"I will not! In this room--you know I have never sat here since---- +You know the vow I made. And why." + +"I know, my sister, I know. Nevertheless, sit now." + +Father Rielle turned half round. "Sit, my daughter. It will not be +for long." + +And from Dr. Renaud came the sharp order: "Sit--at once." + +Overruled, but with annoyance and aversion in every movement, Pauline +took madame's chair. + +"I cannot stay--I mean--I cannot stay long. Oh--Henry, why have you +brought me here? I can do you no good, and the sight of you will do me +harm, it always does!" + +This outburst was more natural to her stormy temperament than her +previous rigidity; her hands clasped and unclasped, while the frown +between her eyes, almost the shape of a barred gate, broke up as a few +wild tears fell upon her lap. Clairville, for his part, though a dying +man, showed resolution and calm obstinacy. + +"You ask that question--and yet you profess to know why I sent for you? +If you do not come to me of your goodwill, I must send for you, that is +clear. You are hearing nothing of me, for I have been too long a dead +man to the world, but I continue to hear much of you. This +marriage--is it true?" + +"I was coming to you," she said hastily, and with evasion; "I had made +arrangements so that when I leave Canada for good I shall have nothing +to reproach myself for." + +"I ask--and see that you answer--you are going to be married?" + +With an uneasy glance at the priest, Miss Clairville murmured: "Yes". +Then louder, as if in an effort to assert herself: "It is to Mr. +Hawtree, an old friend, your friend. There is nothing new or +surprising, nothing peculiar in that. Only what is new is this--that +he will not have to work, that he has come into some money, that we can +go away and live in other places; live indeed how or where we like. +Henry--think what that will do for me! Think how it will change all my +life and how at last I shall realize my dreams, if not fulfil my +ambitions! And then I may be able to help you too, perhaps--and--and +Angeel. That is--I am not sure of this, but I shall try and do so." + +Clairville seemed to be endeavouring to look at his sister more closely. + +"I cannot hear you very well. Will you approach the bed, Pauline? I +am feeble, you see--I am----" Terrible coughing now interrupted him, +and he called upon the doctor. + +"Renaud!" he gasped. "Where is Renaud?" + +"Not far off," replied the medical man, sauntering easily to the +bedside. "Come then, Mlle. Pauline, do your best for your brother. +Take his hand. Bend your face--so. Lower, if you please! Madame will +go to the other side,--a good woman, mademoiselle, a good kind woman!" + +"Have I said she was anything else?" returned Pauline, stiffly obeying +the doctor's instructions, but with obvious dislike in every movement. +She took the seigneur's hand, she forced herself to place her head +almost upon his pillow. + +"You are uncomfortable, my poor Pauline! You shrink from me, you would +avoid this meeting, this last scene on earth, but remember, this hour, +this scene comes to all, will come, must come to you. If you marry, if +you have good loving children, when this hour comes, you shall not pray +in vain nor weep, for they will surround you, but I, Pauline, I have +only you, you and one other." + +"But that other! You have not sent for her? She is not here." + +"No, not yet. I spare you that, Pauline; she will arrive later, +after--I am gone. Father Rielle knows at last; he never suspected. +Renaud knows; speak to her, Renaud, tell her." + +Another fit of coughing shook him, and the cats, disturbed in their +sleep, stood up, arching their brown backs and yawning. + +"Take them off, take them away!" moaned Pauline, her eyes closed, but +the seigneur shook a menacing finger. + +"They do no harm," said the doctor tersely. "Keep his feet warm, I +daresay." + +"Not even that, Renaud, not even that. But leave them--good cats, good +friends." + +The cats curled up again in conscious attitudes, while from under the +vast and ancient bed came a loud and insistent purring, rising and +falling with triumphant, happy cadences--the song of the mother-cat, +impervious to all save her immediate surroundings. + +"If they were dogs," cried Miss Clairville, in fretful fear and +mortification, "they would not sleep like that! They would know you +were ill, dying, and they would keep watch and show affection. I +always hated cats, and now I shall hate them more than ever." + +"What are cats?" said the doctor with a yawn, which vanished as he +glanced down at his patient. "Come, you are here to arrange a few +details with monsieur your brother--make haste then. Madame, some +water and a little brandy in it! So. Now, Mademoiselle, attend." + +"There is not so much for me to say," said the sick man, pressing +Pauline's hand with wistful entreaty, "as there is from me to hear from +you yourself. I have confessed my fault, my sin, and yet, not my sin, +Pauline. Angele is my child, by Artémise Archambault, as you have +always known, but she is more, she is my daughter, legitimately +begotten, in proper wedlock. This you did not know, my poor Pauline. +She is a true Clairville, my sister, a De Clairville, I should say." + +Pauline was now entirely overcome with a new emotion, that of intense +surprise and consternation; instantly the consequences of legitimizing +"Angeel" rushed at her. Instead of a low _liaison_ there was marriage; +the child and she were heirs alike; they were relations and should be +friends, and what she had feared to hear timidly broached--some plan to +keep the child near her--would now be insisted upon. + +"Oh!" she cried, drawing away, "this is worse than anything I came +prepared to hear! This is the worst, cruellest of all. Far better had +she been nameless, far, far better. Perhaps--ah! yes--now I +understand; he is ill, he wanders, he does not know what he is saying." + +"Tell her, Renaud." + +"It is all true, mademoiselle. Believe what he says, for he was never +clearer in the head, not often so clear in life and health as now." + +At this she broke down completely, sobbing aloud. The priest gently +intervened. + +"I cannot allow this, my daughter. You must respect the hour, the +condition of monsieur, the place, the death-bed of a Christian, +mademoiselle!" + +Pauline's sudden sharp sobs were all that could be heard. She had +never wept like this in her life before. + +"What is it you want me to do? Not take her with me, not have her to +live with me? I could not, Henry, I could not. Even if I could +overcome my horror of her--poor innocent child, for it is not her fault +she is as she is--I have no right to visit her on Edmund when we are +married. Yes, yes--you must see that we shall be separated. Angele +and her mother--oh! it is not possible--yet I must call her so since +you say it, your wife, Henry, the Archambault girl, will live here. +They will be comfortable, and if we do well where we are going, if +Edmund comes into his money----" + +Clairville interrupted her. + +"It is of him, too, Hawtree, that I would speak. I fear, I fear--he is +not what he should be, to be your husband, my poor Pauline. His +talk--he has told me much of his past, of women, other women. +Pauline--he has loved in many places." + +"Yes, but I was the last--and best!" broke from Miss Clairville in a +burst of self-pity. Her eager accents lent pathos to the triumphant +declaration and she fancied the priest laughing in his corner! the +doctor gave a snort of ridicule and even the lips of the impassive +nurse seemed to contract with a contemptuous smile. + +"He tells you so, he tells you so. Well, may it be so then, and Heaven +bless you, Pauline. If I--if I----" his lean hand moved jerkily; it +wandered in search of her head, but instead of those dark locks of hair +it fell on the back of a cat. Pauline was swayed by extraordinary and +clashing emotions. He--her hated and despised brother--was trying to +bless her, to lay unsanctified and sinful yet yearning hands upon her, +and it was a blow to her pride to learn forbearance in such a school +and from such a teacher. But he had spoken almost his last words. He +collapsed, groaning, and the doctor and Mme. Poussette each passed an +arm under him. Father Rielle appeared at the bedside with the +sacrament. + +"Not for a minute or two," said Dr. Renaud. "He is still worried in +his mind. It is you, mademoiselle, always you. He is uneasy about the +child. I know what he wishes; that you will be friendly with her, +treat her as your own blood, stay here with her, it may be, for a +season. Promise, mademoiselle, and quickly." + +"I cannot! I cannot!" + +"Nonsense! Promise--and at once." + +Father Rielle whispered in her ear: "Promise, my daughter." + +"It will be useless. I should not keep such a promise." + +"What does that matter? Promise--to soothe his dying moments, even if +you break it afterwards. The Church thus orders, and the Church will +make good, will console." + +Thus hemmed in, Pauline bent and gave her promise; much shaken and +still violently sobbing, she then left the room and Renaud accompanied +her. The act was significant, the leech of the body withdrawing to +make room for the leech of the soul. The door was softly drawn to by +Mme. Poussette; the low sound of Father Rielle's voice was heard at +intervals, then there was a silence. Ten minutes later the priest and +nurse came out, throwing wide the door on the remains of Henry +Clairville, just passed from this world to the next. At the same +instant, a strange incongruous sound came from the room, and Pauline, +wide-eyed and panting, stopped sobbing, and stood up with her hands +pressed over her heart. It was the penetrating chant of three lusty +kittens, new-born, blind and helpless, yet quick to scent their mother +and grope towards her furry bosom. + +Madame hastily re-entered, driving all the cats before her, including +the outraged mother, who took this summary eviction with hoarse and +angry cries, and the kittens, gathered roughly into madame's apron, +continued to emit shrill, smothered squeals all the way to the kitchen. +Dr. Renaud passed in to verify the death, and the incident of the cats +was not lost upon him; indeed, it appealed to his professional instinct. + +"In the midst of Death we are in Life," he remarked jocularly, stepping +back into the hall to get ready for the drive homeward. + +Miss Clairville glanced at these preparations, and speedily made up her +mind. She had grown quiet and was already relieved at the prospect of +leaving Clairville immediately. + +"It cannot matter now whether I go or stay, surely! Dr. Renaud, I go +with you, is it not so?" + +"Faith--it doesn't matter any longer now, as you say. Quick with you +then, for I have much in the village to arrange; a Clairville does not +die every day. Madame has the young Antoine with her, she will not be +afraid. I can send somebody out to sit with her, and you will be best +at Poussette's." + +The day was cold but bright and intensely sunny, and Pauline's relief +and gratitude to the doctor brought back her colour; she sat up, +casting her care behind her, and let him talk. + +"Well, there was not much to be done with him; the 'pic' had weakened +the system, and after so many years of incarceration in a sleeping-room +the chest and lungs were delicate; hence the congestion and cause of +death. Well, well--let me see--I remember your brother twenty-three +years ago when I first came to St. Ignace. A strange, bookish, +freakish character, but a gentleman, that goes without saying, +Ma'amselle Pauline. And you, just a little black-haired girl, reciting +French tragedy in the untidy garden! Ah--ah! I see it clearly--no +father, no mother, save old Victoria Archambault, and yet you grew up a +handsome young lady, always thinking of making your fortune, eh? And +you cannot have made it yet or you would not be contemplating marriage +with our friend the Englishman." + +Pauline's face changed at this; the barred gate stood out over her +eyes, and with ease and happiness fading from her mouth and expression +she turned on Renaud. + +"Who was there to help me make it or to care if I made it at all? Now +that you know the truth and see what Henry is and was, how could I be +anything or do anything in such a _milieu_! You taunt me, you--who +profess to have known nothing of the Archambault affair all these +years!" + +"I give you the word of honour, mademoiselle, I swear it to you--I knew +nothing! Recollect--your brother never would admit a doctor, you were +strong and healthy and much away from Clairville; of the child I only +heard from those at Hawthorne and I did not connect what I did hear +with either you or the seigneur, as he liked to call himself. These +afflicted ones, these peculiar ones--Mme. Poussette kept the secret +well. But two days ago he sent for me and told me everything; how he +was properly married in the parish of Sault au Recollet to Artémise +Archambault, she, the half-witted, the empty-headed--God knows whether +that was the charm or what--and of the birth of the child, he told me. +What could you expect from the union of two such natures? If you +marry, mademoiselle, mate neither with a bad temper nor an unbridled +thirst." + +"Ah, be quiet, Dr. Renaud! You are the blunt well-wisher, I suppose, a +type I detest! How can I help myself! I have chosen, and you know the +Clairville character." + +"Yes, I know, but count before you jump--'tis safer. Jesting aside, +ma'amselle, and although I come from a death-bed I jest with a light +heart as one who sees on the whole enough of life and never too much of +death--you are still too young and too brilliant a woman to marry +anything but well. But I have said, I have finished." + +"And not too soon"--was Miss Clairville's inward thought, as with new +fears pricking at her heart she kept silence, so unusual a thing with +her that the garrulous Renaud observed it and endeavoured to correct +his pessimism. + +"Enough of Life and not too much of Death," he repeated, gaily +flourishing his whip. "It has a queer sound, that, eh? But it is like +this, ma'amselle; when I bring to life, when I usher into this world, I +see the solemnity and the importance of life in front of me and I am +sad; it makes me afraid. When I assist at the grave I am calm and +happy, light-hearted even, because there our responsibility for one +another ceases, so long as we keep the Masses going." + +"The Masses! For their souls you mean, for his soul? How then--do you +believe that, Dr. Renaud?" + +"Eh? Believe--mademoiselle? Come, you take me at a disadvantage. Am +I not a good Catholic then? Pardon me, but I never discuss these +questions. Without the Church we should be much worse than we are, and +faith--some of us are about as bad as we can be already." + +Pauline, tired out, said no more, but leaning back fell into dreaming +of her marriage and of the life before her. Her brother was gone, +peacefully and honourably on the whole; of Angeel it was not necessary +to think, and if Artémise were to remain at Clairville as its mistress, +a very good way might be opened toward conciliating the neighbourhood +and of managing the child for the future. The Archambaults would most +likely all return, evict Mme. Natalie Poussette, who would return to +her husband, and Clairville Manor again assume the lively air of a +former period, with French retainers young and old overrunning the +house and grounds. + +Once more in thought Miss Clairville saw the culmination of her hopes +all revolving around the interesting Hawtree, and once more she began +in fancy to add to, sort over, and finally pack away the airy trousseau +which must now be enriched by at least one sober black suit, hat and +mourning veil. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +RELAPSE + + "How shall I trace the change, how bear to tell + How he broke faith----" + + +The Hotel Champlain is a hostelry not on the list which promises the +highest class of entertainment for the tourist; one has not to go there +unless one is French or in some way connected with or interested in +French life and character, yet the _cuisine_ is excellent and the rooms +clean and neat. The occasional presence of pompous Senators from the +provinces on their way to the legislative halls of the capital ensures +a certain average of cooking and attendance; at other times prevail the +naturally comfortable instincts of the host and hostess, M. and Mme. +Alphonse Prefontaine, a couple bearing the same initials as the +Poussettes, the wife a Natalie too, but extremely different in ideals +and character. Thus, monsieur, the host, had voyaged, been to "Paris, +France," emphasized in case you should think he meant that village, +Paris, Ontario; had written a brochure on his travels and was a great +patron of such arts as at that time the French population of Montreal +were privileged to offer. Madame, the wife, with well-frizzed black +hair, strong features and kindly dark eyes, was handsome enough for a +Lady Mayoress, had excellent if a little showy taste in dress and had +reared a large and healthy family. + +To their comfortable roof Crabbe repaired rather than to any English +one, because he was not yet completely reinstated in his own +self-respect, and to patronize places suited to him in a prosperous +future might now invite too much criticism. The Prefontaines knew Miss +Clairville well and had heard from her of the rich Englishman to whom +she was about to be married, and Crabbe was therefore received with +more than Gallic fervour, assigned one of the best rooms, and after +seeing a clergyman and attending to other matters touching the +approaching ceremony, shut himself up with certain manuscripts that he +wished to look over before mailing them to England. He had arrived at +noon on the day of Henry Clairville's death and the next morning +accordingly brought him the news in print. He grew thoughtful for a +while, meant to dispatch a telegram of condolence to Pauline, then +forgot it as he became interested in his work. Two poems in particular +came in for much revision: "The Lay of an Exiled Englishman," and +"Friends on the Astrachan Ranch," pleased him with their lines here and +there, yet the general and final effect seemed disappointing to his +fine critical side; like many another he saw and felt better than he +could perform. + +"A Tennysonian ring, I fear. Yet what man alive and writing now can +resist it? It slides into the veins, it creeps along the nerves, it +informs us as we speak and move and have our being. I'll read +aloud--ghastly perhaps, but the only way to judge effect." + +He began, and the long lines rose and fell with precision and academic +monotony; he was no elocutionist, but read as authors read their own +works, as Schubert played his own music, and as he read the snow fell +in thick swirling masses outside his window and the cold grew more and +more penetrating and intense. A knock at the door roused him. It was +a servant of the house who spoke English. The host had sent to know +whether the guest was warm. + +"Well, come to think of it," said Crabbe, "I'm not too warm, by any +means. You can tell them to fire up downstairs, certainly. What time +is luncheon here?" + +"Do you mean dinner, sir?" + +"Oh, yes, dinner, of course. One o'clock? Very well." + +"No order, sir? For the bar, I mean?" + +Crabbe stared at the speaker then straightened himself and looked out +of the window. Was it snowing at St. Ignace, and on Henry Clairville's +grave? Would Pauline go into mourning? + +"No, I think not. A bottle of Bass at my dinner--that's all." + +The interruption over, he went back to his poetry, and this time read +on until he had finished. Then he was silent, staring at the table +with his legs straight out in front of him, and his hands in his +pockets. + +"What rot your own poetry can sound!" he finally observed with a frown. + +"Verse certainly needs an audience, and there's a turn, a lilt that +reminds me of Carleton occasionally--that won't do. Must go at it +again. Must go at it again. Better have a smoke." + +He found and lit his pipe, read over the stanzas, this time in his +head, and the room grew steadily colder, until he could hardly stand +it. He rang the bell. + +"Look here! Tell Mr. Prefontaine his guests are freezing in this +house. Get him to fire up, there's a good fellow--and--look here? How +soon will dinner be ready?" + +"Not for some time, sir. Perhaps, if you're cold, a hot Scotch----" + +But Crabbe was again buried in his work. At one he dined, very much +admired by Mme. Prefontaine and her three daughters; he had his +innocent tipple and then went back to his room. By three o'clock it +was growing dark and he rose to pull down the blind, when a step +outside in the hall arrested him. The step seemed familiar, yet +incongruous and uncongenial; it was followed by a knock, and, going +forward, Crabbe opened the door to Ringfield. + +Astonishment showed in the Englishman's face, but he spoke amiably +enough and invited the young man inside. Ringfield's countenance wore +its perennial grave aspect, but it could also be seen that at that +moment he was suffering from the cold. He wore no muffler, and his +hands were encased in mere woollen gloves; he had also the appearance +of being a martyr to influenza, and Crabbe regarded him with his usual +contemptuous familiarity. + +"What's brought you to town this infernally cold day?" he said. +"You're not going to be married, you know." + +The pleasantry did not apparently disconcert the other, but he looked +carefully around as if searching for something before he answered. + +"To be candid, I followed you here to have a talk with you." + +"The deuce you did--white choker and all! You have a cheek, haven't +you? Then you must be pretty flush, after all, even if you have not +any expectations, like me, Ringfield. You've never congratulated me, +but let that pass. As you are here, what do you want to talk about?" + +The two stood facing each other, with the paper-strewn table between +them. + +"I should almost think you could guess," murmured Ringfield with an +effort to be easy. "But before I, at least, can do any talking I must +get warm. I'm chilled--chilled to the bone." And indeed he looked it. +His hollow eyes, his bluish lips, his red hands and white fingers +indicated his condition, and he had also a short, spasmodic cough, +which Crabbe had never noticed at St. Ignace. Suddenly in the guide +there awoke the host, the patron, and he drew the blind, placed chairs +and grumbled at the stove-pipe. + +"Oh for an open fire!" he cried. "Eh, Ringfield? One of your little +Canadian open stoves would do, a grate--anything to sit before! Why, +man, I'm afraid you have got a touch of the ague, or something worse, +perhaps pneumonia." + +"Not as bad as that, surely," returned the other with his wry smile. +"I walked from the station to save a cab, and I'm only a little +chilled." + +"A warm drink!" cried Crabbe, from the depths of his new and hospitable +instincts. "Say the word, and I'll order it. By heaven, +Ringfield,--you look poorly, and I've wanted one myself all day." His +hand was on the bell. + +"No, no! Don't make a fuss over me. I shall be all right after a +while. Besides I never take anything of the kind you mean, I fancy. +Some camphor--if you had that, or a cup of boiling hot tea. I'll go +downstairs and ask for that. Or coffee." + +"Tea! Good Lord! Tea, to a man sickening with pneumonia!" + +"But I'm not--really I'm not. I'm feeling warmer already." + +"I know better. 'A hot Scotch,'" he said. "Oh for some of the +Clairville brandy now, eh? By the way, her brother's dead." + +Ringfield shivered, but not this time on account of the cold. Some +strange sensation always attacked him when Crabbe spoke of Pauline. + +"Yes. I did not hear of it until she returned." + +"She went to see him, then?" + +"Yes." + +"That must have been after I left. Poor girl! Well, was she very +knocked up? Have you seen her?" + +Ringfield shook his head and the guide attributed the action more to +cold than to sympathy. His mind was made up; Ringfield must take +something, must be warmed up and made fit, and whisky was the only +means known to the Englishman, who did not own a "Manual of +Homoeopathy". Whisky it must be. Again his hand went to the bell, and +again Ringfield remonstrated, but his _gauche_ utterances were of no +avail in face of Crabbe's decision of character and natural lording of +it. The boy appeared, the order was dispatched, and as Ringfield +noticed the growing exaltation in the guide's manner, a sort of +sickness stole upon him. Here, thrust into his hand, was the greatest +opportunity yet given to him to preserve a human soul and to save the +woman he loved, but he looked on, dazed, uncomfortable, half guilty. + +"If this works you harm," he said, "it will be through me, through me. +I'd rather not, Crabbe; I'd rather not." + +But the word of the guide prevailed, and in three minutes a couple of +hot strong glasses were on the table. Crabbe for his part was really +curious. Could it be that this man, his visitor, had never tasted +spirituous liquor? Wine, of course, he must have taken, being a +clergyman. This thought immediately attracted him, and with a sense of +its literary value he sought to question Ringfield as to the effect of +the Communion wine upon a teetotal community. By this time there was +no doubt the minister had suffered a severe chill and the temptation +became very strong to try the hot glass that stood in front of him. + +Crabbe jeered. + +"What do you suppose will happen to you if you taste it, even if you +drain it? What can one glass do? Nonsense. I've taken a whole bottle +of Glenlivet in an evening--then you might talk!" + +His hand played with the glasses, and watching him, Ringfield felt all +the awful responsibility of his office. Once before he had shattered a +hateful bottle, once he had lifted up his voice in self-righteous +denunciation of the sin of drink and the black fruit thereof, but now +he appeared helpless, paralyzed. + +At what moment the evil finally entered into him and conquered him does +not signify; horrible visions of Pauline and this man going away +together, laughing and chatting, embracing and caressing, swam before +his jaundiced eyes. To delay, to prevent the marriage had been his +dream for weeks, and now he saw one way to accomplish this wished-for +hindrance to their union. Should Crabbe be made drunk, should he yield +again after so long abstinence from liquor, who could say what the +consequences might prove? A shred only of common compunction animated +him as he said: "I tell you frankly I'm afraid of the stuff. And I'm +afraid for you." + +Yet all this time he was watching the guide's expression. + +Already the steaming fumes were working upon him; the familiar, +comforting, stimulating odour was there, his hand was clasping the +glass, in another moment he would drain it, then what would happen! + +"Afraid! Afraid? Of one glass! Ringfield--you're a fool, a prig, and +a baby. Besides, the spirit is all burnt out by this time, evaporated, +flown thence. Come--I'll set you the example. Drink first and preach +afterwards." + +And with the peculiar gloating eye, the expressively working, watering +mouth that the drunkard sometimes shows, the Englishman led off. It +was a long, hot drink, but he threw his head back and never paused till +he had drained the last drop, and once again tipped the glass towards +his throat. Ringfield, alarmed, fascinated, deeply brooding, watched +the proceeding in silence, his nature so changed that there was no +impulse to seize the offending glass, dash it on the ground or pour the +contents on the floor, watched ardently, hungrily, for the sequel. +Would Crabbe remain as he had been after the enlivening draught, or +would he by rapid and violent stages decline to the low being of former +days? While Ringfield thus watched the guide the latter stared back, +broadly smiling. + +"Still shaking!" he cried; "still 'chilled to the bone' and shivering? +You are such an impossible fellow--you will not give my remedy a +chance. Perhaps whisky doesn't suit you. I know--it was gin you +wanted. 'The gin within the juniper began to make him merry.' Lots of +people don't know that's Tennyson. Eh, Ringfield? Afraid? Afraid of +imperilling your immortal soul? Nuisance--a soul. Great nuisance. +Great mistake. Well--are you or are you not going to drink this other +glass? I can't see good stuff wasted. I'm astonished at you. +I'm--'stonished." + +He leant forward and bent his elbows on the table; the papers fluttered +in all directions, but he had forgotten about them. His gaze--wide, +blue and choleric--was alternately bent on Ringfield and on the tumbler. + +The minister went pale, his heart beat spasmodically and his fingers +curled and tingled. No power, no wish to pray was left in him, no +sense of responsibility; he was too far gone in jealous vindictiveness +to be his own judge or critic, and he stared at the guide, saying: "If +you get drunk it is your own fault. You'll be doing it yourself. I +have nothing to do with it, nothing. I will not touch the stuff, you +shall not make me." + +Yet he did not attempt to remove the glass and Crabbe sniffed at the +tempting fumes. His right hand embraced them, his hair fell over his +forehead, his eyes and mouth worked strangely, and in a twinkling what +the other had foreseen happened. With an unsteady, leering flourish +Crabbe raised the coveted tumbler to his lips and drank it off. + +Appalled and conscience-stricken, Ringfield fell back against the door, +the room being small and contracted, and covered his face with his +hands. In ten minutes the guide was coarsely drunk, but sensible +enough to ring the bell and demand more whisky. Committed to his wrong +course, the minister interfered no longer, and suffered a servant to +deliver the stuff into his hands at the door, on the plea that the +gentleman inside was not very well. Thus things went from bad to +worse, Crabbe noisily reciting passages from English poets and the +Greek anthology, and insisting on reading his lines to Ringfield after +a third "go" of spirits. + +"How does this strike you?" he cried, whipping a narrow piece of +writing-paper out of his pocket; "I've written many an epitaph, but +none that I liked better than this:-- + + "Chaste I was not, neither honourable, only kind; + And lo--the streets with mourners at my death were lined!" + +And he added gravely that it was in the best Greek style. "I've got +another, 'On a Woman Who Talked too Much,' but I can't remember it. +Don't you write poetry? You don't? Oh! I remember now. You're the +parson. Want to convert me, want to reform me, eh, Ringfield? You +write something better than poetry--sermons. Look here--Ringfield--did +you know I was intended for the Church myself at one time? I was. +Honour bright--before I came out to this blasted country--excuse +freedom of speech--before I knew you, and before I met Henry Clairville +and Pauline." + +The name seemed to convey some understanding of his condition with it, +and he stopped a minute in his talk. The other man was still leaning +by the door; it might be expedient to keep people of the house from +seeing Crabbe's condition. + +"Now--don't you say this isn't your fault," continued the guide, +shaking his head wisely. "You ordered the whisky, you know you did. +You were 'chilled to the bone' and you ordered it. And you're a parson +all the same, can't get over that, can't help yourself, can you, +Ringfield? Remember meetin' you many years ago somewhere, there was +whisky too on that occasion, and you c'ngratulated me, you know, on +going to be married. But you were--premature, that's what you were, +Ringfield--premature. Wonder where I met you before! Must have been +in the Old Country; must have been at Oxford together." + +He now raised his head, and drinking off the fourth and last strong +tumblerful of spirit, smiled vacantly in the other's face, and +collapsed upon the table. + +Ringfield, ashamed and bitter, stood and watched this sad scene with +folded arms and tightly drawn mouth. Was it true? Was this his work? +This dishevelled, staring-eyed, sodden, incoherent creature, shrewdly +wise in his cups, had taken the place of the elegant and easy English +gentleman, the educated Oxford man, dabbler in high-class verse and +prospective happy bridegroom, and what woman would care to have his arm +around her now? With the thought came a wave of self-righteous +indignation; he had partially effected what he had hoped to bring about +in some other way, the gradual but sure alienation of Crabbe from +Pauline, and with a half-guilty satisfaction driving out remorse he +descended and found M. Prefontaine, having first locked the door and +put the key in his pocket. Explanations of his friend's seizure were +made, apparently in good faith, and much solicitude expressed. + +"However, I think you had better leave him entirely alone this evening, +and I can look in later," concluded Ringfield, whose serious mien and +clerical garb commended him; "I am familiar with his attacks and I will +also see him in the morning before I leave, in case he requires +anything, although by that time he will very probably have quite +recovered." + +This sounding perfectly frank and natural, M. Prefontaine took no more +thought of the guest in No. 9, and gave Ringfield the room opposite, +No. 8, from which he could listen for his friend's "attacks" and render +assistance if required. + +At half-past ten, therefore, he unlocked Crabbe's door, and found the +guide almost as he had left him, his head on the table and his legs +stretched out underneath, but Ringfield, scanning the room with a +careful eye as he had done earlier in the day, on his arrival, at +length perceived what he had expected and desired to see--a +travelling-flask of wicker and silver-plate half hidden on the dressing +table behind a tall collar-box. Turning the gas low, but not +completely out, he went away quietly, again locking the door behind +him. What Poussette had told him then was true, and it was this, that +before his departure for Montreal the guide had purchased enough spirit +to fill a large flask, and whether shallow subterfuge or not, Crabbe +certainly had a standing temptation at his elbow which he must have +forgotten when Ringfield entered, cold and shivering and plainly in +need of a stimulant. Poussette's theory--that the Englishman had +absented himself in order to enjoy a deliberate "spree" as it is +called, was incorrect. Crabbe had simply brought the stuff with him +from force of habit, the conventional notion of preparing for a +journey, particularly in such a climate. Therefore the burden of his +recent fall certainly must be laid to Ringfield, who had lifted neither +voice nor hand to hinder; for while pursuing an evil course the latter +seemed powerless to cast out the emotions of blinding hate and jealousy +that tore at his vitals and rendered him a changed and miserable +creature. The next morning he visited Crabbe again and found him, as +he had hoped, absolutely sodden and useless; his elasticity and nerve, +his good looks, his air of authority, having all disappeared, and a +wretched physical sickness begun. He knew his plight, but did not +recognize his tempter, did not mention Pauline's name and seemed to +wish to be left alone. Ringfield candidly and sorrowfully made further +explanations to M. Prefontaine, who promised to say nothing of the +matter and to look after Crabbe as soon as he was able. + +"Mlle. Clairville has written to us of the gentleman, and we regret +this should have happened. You will carry her our best regards and +good wishes for her wedding. These Englishmen are sometimes great +drinkers, but they recover quickly." + +Ringfield paid his bill and walked out as he had walked in, with the +same constrained, unhappy expression, and the same cold hand grasping a +florid carpet-bag. He had told M. Prefontaine that he was returning to +St. Ignace, but he had no such intention; he went along Jacques Cartier +Square a few yards, and then disappearing around a corner, found a +quiet back street, where, over antiquated shop-fronts, he saw several +cards of _appartements à louer_ and one with a similar legend in +English. Here he entered and secured a front room, so situated that +its view commanded that side of the square on which stood the Hotel +Champlain. He had made up his mind to remain there until he saw Crabbe +emerge, when, if possible, he would again detain, hinder, or, in some +unthought-out way, keep him from St. Ignace and Miss Clairville. Thus +he passed the hours, patiently waiting at his narrow window in the Rue +St. Dominique for a sight of his unfortunate rival. + +Now M. Alphonse Prefontaine had a friend named Lalonde, a very clever +man and a member of that useful profession which lives upon the lives +and secrets and follies and crimes of others--in fine, a detective, and +having quite recently lost his wife (a cousin of Mme. Prefontaine) he +had given up his house and come to live at the Hotel Champlain. He had +been present when Ringfield first appeared in the rotunda with his +countrified carpet-bag, had heard him ask for his friend, had seen him +again later in the afternoon, and also in the morning, and having +naturally a highly-developed trait of curiosity, had sauntered out when +Ringfield did, and discovered that, instead of returning to the +country, the young man with the clergyman's tie and troubled face was +lodging in the next street. To anyone else, even to the Prefontaines, +this would have signified nothing, but Lalonde was good at his +business, and the discovery at least interested him; he could say +nothing more. He, too, knew Miss Clairville well, and was expecting to +see her on her wedding-day, so that it was quite natural he should +express a desire to meet Crabbe, even if the latter were scarcely in a +condition to receive callers. M. Prefontaine accordingly took him up, +but all they saw was an exceedingly stupid, fuddled, untidy wretch who +was not yet conscious of the great mistake he had made in giving way to +his deplorable appetite, and who did not realize the import of what was +said to him. Lalonde was sufficiently curious to examine the flask and +Crabbe's valise, but he retired satisfied that the guide had not been +tampered with. Drunkenness and that alone had caused the present sad +state of affairs. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +THE TROUSSEAU AGAIN + + "--the bitter language of the heart." + + +The shop over which Ringfield was lodging for the time was an emporium +of Catholic books, pictures and images, one of those peculiarly Lower +Canadian stores in the vicinity of the Rue Notre Dame, existing side by +side with Indian curio shops, and rendering it possible for the +emigrant and tourist to purchase maple sugar, moccasins, and birch bark +canoes at the same time that he invested in purple ribbon bookmarks, +gaily painted cards of the Virgin, and tiny religious valentines with +rosy bleeding hearts, silver arrows and chubby kneeling infants. +Amulets and crucifixes, Keys of Heaven and lives of the Blessed Saints, +cheap vases of ruby and emerald glass, candles and rosaries, would at +another time have afforded Ringfield much matter for speculation, but +the fact was that almost as soon as he had deposited his bag on the +table of the narrow bedroom assigned to him, the cold he had so long +neglected caught him seriously, and for an entire day and a half he +insisted on sitting at his window when he should have been in bed. On +the next day his feverish symptoms increased to such an extent that the +man who owned the room and who was a widower, managing for himself, +sent for a nurse. Tossing on the bed, and frequently rising to look +out of the window, Ringfield fretfully objected, but his landlord was +firm, and sent a message at once to the Hospital of the Incarnation, +the nearest charitable institution and the parent of several +flourishing branches, among which was that at Lalurette where Ringfield +had thought of placing Angeel. It was early on Thursday evening when +the message was sent, and at ten o'clock Archibald Groom, the +shopkeeper, came to say that a person recently arrived from the country +was below, but that she spoke very little English. He was not +answered, and bending over the bed he saw that his lodger was +delirious, eyes glassy and staring and head rolling from side to side, +with high colour and stertorous breathing. + +To call the nurse, who was waiting in the shop, was the work of an +instant; she came quickly and noiselessly up the dark stair and saw at +once a case of brain fever, partly brought on by exposure and neglected +cold, also recognizing in the sick man the well-known minister at St. +Ignace and her husband's _protégé_. + +Mme. Poussette, for it was she, possessed more discretion than sense, +and more sense than wit; she looked calmly upon her patient as upon a +stranger and set about her work in silence. + +Meanwhile Edmund Crabbe, on partially recovering from his first fit of +intemperance, sat up, and perceiving the well-filled flask he had +brought with him, seized it, and began afresh upon its contents. He +had left St. Ignace on Monday morning, and it was now Thursday; Henry +Clairville was dead and buried; the funeral obsequies being of a +complex nature, shabby and ornate, dignified and paltry, leisurely and +hurried, while the ceremony was at least well attended, since, as Dr. +Renaud had said, a Seigneur did not die every day. Profuse in the +matter of lappets, crucifixes, and in the number of voluble +country-folk and stout serious-lipped priests, Father Rielle, who had +charge of the proceedings, was compelled to accommodate himself to +circumstances, or fate, or "the Will of God," in the shape of the +Archambaults--who, as Pauline foresaw, had all returned, this time to +claim their own. + +The disappearance of Mme. Poussette occasioned no comment; for two days +after the death of Henry Clairville no one spoke to her or thanked her +for all she had done, and while the funeral was in progress she put her +few things in a box, and counting a small store of money Poussette had +given her from time to time, went with Antoine Archambault to the +station at Bois Clair, and was no more seen at St. Ignace. Of all the +characters in this simple history, none perhaps was so sincerely +deserving as this unfortunate Mme. Poussette, and as she passes from +the stormy little village in behind the gate of the serene but busy +hospital, it is pleasant to contemplate the change there in store for +her. To many women who are plain and unattractive in the ever-varying +hat and gown of fashion, and who, if they try to hold their own, must +sooner or later resort to artificial aids to attain even moderate good +looks, there is yet a refuge, that of some severe and never-changing +style of dress or uniform, which bestows upon them another kind of +beauty. The kitchen dish or utensil has its charm as well as the +sprigged china of the closet; the jug going to the well is as grateful +to the eye as the prismatic beaker upon the table, and, in like manner, +the banded or braided hair, the perfect cleanliness of fresh print or +linen and the straight serviceable lines of skirt and waist often +contribute to make a plain woman fully as attractive as her prettier +sisters. Thus Mme. Poussette, about whom there was never anything +repulsive or vulgar, presented new features to the world in her +exquisitely neat hospital garb; more than this, she liked her work, and +gradually her expression grew less vacant; she left off humming and +whispering to herself, and we leave her thus, contented, respected and +of use, and, therefore, almost happy. + +Indeed, many there are beside Mme. Natalie Poussette who find as life +slips by and the feverish quest of happiness dies within them, that +they become happy almost without knowing it in the pursuit of other +things once despised, such as work, friendship, the need of earning, or +the love of an abstract subject. What a contrast then does this +"afflicted," this "peculiar" one afford to the restless, imaginative, +gifted but unstable Pauline, in whom the quest of happiness had so far +only resulted in entanglement and riot of conflicting emotions! + +As she remained much indoors at this time, awaiting Crabbe's return, +she dwelt much on the past, words rising to utterance that she thought +would never be heard on earth touching the problems of her lonely +childhood, her meeting with Crabbe, her aversion to her brother; also, +the brighter pictures of the future in which she already lived the life +of a London beauty and belle, or crossed to Paris and continued buying +for her trousseau. Miss Cordova, with the superior wisdom of a mother, +let her friend talk and agreed with all she said; her own opinion of +Pauline's choice in men was not in the guide's favour, but she saw it +was too late to interfere. The story of Angeel was now cleared up and, +had Ringfield remained in the village, he would have learnt as well as +the rest of the unexpected parentage of that poor child, and of the +turn in the affairs of the country-side which brought the Archambaults +on top. However wasted and however dilapidated, the Clairville domain +and Manor House was one of the oldest in the province, and it began to +be rumoured that a considerable fortune existed in Henry's collection +of books and memoirs, offers for which were already reaching the +helpless widow and mother of Angeel. + +Occupied with her own dreams, Miss Clairville took little notice of her +home under a new regime, and day by day she watched instead for the +return of her lover, bringing definite arrangements for the marriage. +There seemed at least a diminution other natural active outlook on life +as a whole, and if she feared from Crabbe's rather dilatory methods +that their union was in danger from too long delay, she did not say so, +even to her confidante. The latter was bent upon carrying through her +project with regard to Maisie and Jack, but this could not be effected +until the spring, and thus, without the stimulus of the Englishman's +presence, and with the remembrance of death and agitation so recently +in their midst, both women were quieter than usual. + +As for Ringfield, no one missed him very acutely until Saturday +morning, when, upon the receipt of a letter from Mme. Prefontaine, +"Poussette's" was thrown into considerable excitement. Pauline, who +could rarely keep anything to herself, read her letter aloud and +immediately jumped up in terror. + +"Why did not some one tell me they were together; together, at the +Hotel Champlain? I tell you--something will happen!" + +"To which of them?" asked Miss Cordova satirically. In spite of a good +deal of nonsense in her composition, there was an under-stratum of +shrewd wisdom, inherited, no doubt, from her New England mother, and +her admiration for her more brilliant friend did not blind her to +certain irregularities of disposition and many weak points in Pauline's +character, inseparable from her abnormal bringing up. "I wouldn't +excite myself so much if I were you," continued the other. "I've +learnt not to worry about men harming other men; it's when they come to +harming women I think it's time to worry about them. Look at me--I +don't know for certain whether Ned Stanbury's alive or not; I know +Schenk's alive, although he may not last long, but I never worry about +their meeting. But if Schenk came here to disturb me, or went to my +mother's to get the children from her, then I might take on." + +"But, my dear, everything's different in my case!" exclaimed Miss +Clairville, fretfully pacing up and down the common room. + +A village dressmaker, one of the numerous Tremblays, had, in a great +hurry, made her a black dress; her face showed sallow against it now, +and even her hands, always conspicuously well-kept and white, looked +yellow and old as they hung down at the side of her tall, straight +figure, or clasped and unclasped restlessly behind her. A key to much +of her present unhappy mood lay in her last exclamation; family pride, +another kind of pride in her personal knowledge of the world, in her +consciousness of gifts and physical attractions, the feeling that she +was in every way Miss Cordova's superior, all this rendered Pauline's +affairs, in her own eyes, of vastly greater importance and intrinsic +excellence and interest than those of her companion. A +Clairville--there could be no doubt of this--was a lady, a gentlewoman, +to use an incorruptible phrase, whereas, no matter how unsmirched the +simple annals of Sadie Cordova, the small farm, the still smaller shop +were behind the narrow beginnings of the painstaking and pious Yankee +shoemaker who retired in middle life to the country and died there. +Pauline's father and brother, both weakly degenerates, could +nevertheless boast of a lineage not inconsiderable for older lands, of +possessions identified with the same, such as portraits and books and +furniture, of connexions through marriage with the law and the militia, +and, above all, of having lived on their land for very many years +without doing anything, most distinguished trait of all. Hence, +Pauline's remark; how could Miss Cordova fully understand or properly +sympathize with the altered conditions by which the daughter of the +manor was now second in importance to one of a family of menials, the +flighty, giggling, half-witted Artemise-Palmyre, whose marriage to +Henry Clairville was an accepted fact. + +"You cannot understand," Pauline had said for the tenth or eleventh +time, and Miss Cordova listened, outwardly smiling and not immediately +replying. + +"Do you suppose your brother's marriage was legal and binding?" she +said after a while, and Pauline stopped in her walk. The idea was not +altogether new. + +"I fancy it must have been," she managed to say carelessly. "Dr. +Renaud and his Reverence know all about it, and even if it were not, +where is the money to enable me to--how do you say--contest it?" + +"Wouldn't Mr. Poussette lend it to you?" + +"Oh, what an idea! Do you think I would take it from him, I, a +Clairville?" + +She had nearly used the once-despised prefix and called herself a De +Clairville, for since Henry's death her intolerant view of his darling +project had strangely altered; so many things were slipping from her +grasp that she clutched at anything which promised well for the future. + +"Well, I'm sure you deserve money, Pauline, from one quarter or +another; you've worked hard enough for it, I know, and now I do hope +your Mr. Hawtree will turn up soon and be all right, and that you'll be +happily married to him and get away for a time from all these troubles. +I want you should know, Pauline, that I think it was noble of you to +work so hard to raise that money to keep little Angeel; yes, I call it +noble, and I'm proud of you and sorry I ever thought----" + +She paused and Pauline took up the unfinished phrase. + +"Sorry you ever thought she was mine? I forgive you, my dear, but +about my nobility, make no mistake. What I did I did, but I did it all +coldly, passively, with nothing but hatred and loathing in my heart, +with nothing but pride and selfishness setting me on to do it. I know +this was wrong, but I could not get into any other frame of mind; I +could never overcome my horror and repulsion of the whole matter. And +now--it is just as bad--worse. If I thought I should have to live with +her, with them, I could not stand it, Sara, I could not, I could not! +Why must I be tried so, why must I suffer so? Oh, it is because I have +a bad heart, a bad nature! Yes, yes, that must be it! I have a bad +nature, Sara, a bad, bad nature!" + +"No, no, Pauline!" said her friend soothingly, and the matter dropped. + +Later they were sitting, towards evening, sewing at some item of the +impalpable trousseau, Pauline alternating her spasmodic needle with +reading over Mme. Prefontaine's letter and jumping up to listen down +the stair. + +"What do you expect's happened, anyhow?" cried Miss Cordova at last, in +exasperation. "Mr. Ringfield's a clergyman! he's a perfectly moral +man, and I guess that means something. What are you afraid of? Now if +it was me and Schenk or Stanbury----" + +Pauline's attitude and expression were alike tragic. In her cheap +black dress her look of apprehensive despair was full of mournful +intensity as she stood with one hand lifted and her expressive eyes +fixed on shapes imaginary. Her friend's philosophy was equal to the +occasion. + +"Seems to me if you think so much about things that _might_ happen but +you ain't sure they _have_ happened, you kind of _make_ 'em happen. +Sit down and be calm, for goodness sake, Pauline!" + +"I can't, I can't! Oh, what's that now?" + +With her hands over her heart she bounded to the top of the narrow +stair. + +"Reminds me of myself the other day when I thought Schenk was after me. +Do you hear anything, Pauline--you look so wild?" + +"Yes, yes! Some one has arrived. _Grand Dieu_--which of them? +Sara--go and see!" + +Miss Cordova rose and drew her friend back within the room. + +"Maybe it's neither; only some one for M. Poussette." + +"No, no, it is one of them and for me. I hear my name." + +She sank upon a chair as footsteps were heard slowly, heavily, and +somewhat unsteadily ascending the stair. The arrival was Edmund +Crabbe, with the lurch of recent dissipation in his gait and his blue +eyes still inflamed and bleared. + +With a half-furtive, half-defiant air he advanced to Pauline, but +before he could utter a word, either of justification or apology, she +sprang at him with impetuous gestures and deeply frowning brows. To +see her thus, in the common little room at Poussette's, clad in the +plain garb of cheap mourning, yet with all the instinctive fire and +grandeur of the emotional artist, was to recall her as many could, +declaiming on the narrow stage of the Theatre of Novelties. + + Je suis Romaine, helas! puisque Horace est Romain. + J'ai reçevu son titre en reçevant sa main, + +or again, in the diaphanous rose-garlanded skirts of Marguerite +Gautier, laying bare the secrets of her heart to her adoring lover. +Oblivious of Miss Cordova, Pauline rushed at her own lover but did not +embrace him. + +"Oh, where is he?" she cried. "What have you done to him?--or with +him? I insist upon the truth; I must know, I must know all. He +followed you!" + +"He did, he did. He followed me, as you say, madam, but what of that?" +Crabbe stood, greatly astonished and rather mortified. In the presence +of Miss Cordova, for Pauline to display such concern for the other man +was, to say the least, annoying. To be dignified in his resentment was +to invite ridicule, for the drink still showed in his walk, but he +managed to frown and in other ways show honest astonishment and wrath. +"A nice welcome!" he went on, with difficulty repressing a certain +thickness of utterance and steadying himself as well as he was able, +the chairs being both occupied. "If you mean the parson, if these airs +and sighs, these sulks and tender concerns are for him--you may spare +yourself. He is all right. Though I beg pardon--you never sulk, +Pauline, whatever you do. I'll swear to that, lady dear. 'Tis good +and hot and strong while it lasts, and now I'm back, give it me, for I +know I deserve it. I've been at it again, Pauline. Drink, I mean, my +girl." Tears stood in his eyes. + +"I understand. You need explain no further. But what do you mean +about Mr. Ringfield--how is he all right? Where is he? I was afraid, +afraid of something happening to one of you. Sara laughs, but she +doesn't know how I feel." + +"And never will!" said Crabbe, giving Pauline's shoulder a clumsy, +caressing pat; "Miss Cordova has her points, but she is not Us, she is +not We of the grand emotional parts! Just a bundle of emotions, nerves +and impulses--that's all you are, madam!" + +His affection, breaking through the still thick speech and weakened +movements, was irresistible; Pauline sighed and smiled, shook off her +tremors and allowed herself to descend with him to the dining-room, +where over supper she listened to the recital of his adventure in +Montreal. + +"It was the cold then, that made you, that drove you to it again!" she +said thoughtfully. + +"Cold, and--and--loneliness. I was lonely, Pauline, and by Heaven--if +you'll really take me, lady dear, the sooner we're married the better. +If your parson were in the house at this moment I should order him to +perform the ceremony." + +"Oh--that would not suit me! Mr. Ringfield--of course, that could not +be. We must leave as soon as possible, that is all, and as this is the +nineteenth, and we have arranged for the twenty-fourth, that is only +four days to wait." + +"Four days! I'll keep straight, I promise you, Pauline." + +"And was he--was Mr. Ringfield with you much at the Hotel Champlain? +What did he do there? Why did he go?" + +Crabbe, to tell the truth, was asking that same question of his brain, +as he made heroic endeavours to recollect the details of his last +debauch. He paused, and, with a trick characteristic of him, pushed +away his plate and cup, although he had only begun his meal. + +"That's what I'd like to know myself, Pauline. I was sitting at the +table, smoking, and reading over some of my stuff--poor stuff it seems +to me at times; however let that pass--when a knock came to the door, +and I opened to our clerical friend! That's all I can remember." + +"How did he look? How long did he stay? Do try and recollect. Try +and answer." + +Crabbe did try, but without avail. + +"That's all I know, my dear girl. I must have been pretty bad." + +"You must, indeed," said Miss Clairville, rising. A little of the +hauteur Ringfield associated with her showed in her bearing, and as the +guide drew his food again towards him, she eyed him almost with +disfavour. "Then you do not know where he is, or what he went for, or +how long he stayed." + +"I do not, lady dear--I do not." + +Pauline was deeply mystified, and perhaps her vanity was also touched; +the mental spectacle of the two men fighting each other for possession +of her had faded and a certain picturesqueness had gone from life. +However, her marriage remained; she had four days, but only four, to +make ready in anticipation of the great event which was to remove her +at once and for ever from St. Ignace and Clairville, and in the light +of which even Crabbe's backsliding seemed a trivial matter. She +therefore returned to Sadie Cordova with restored equanimity, and +Ringfield--his avowal and his present whereabouts and condition yielded +to those prenuptial dreams and imaginings which pursued even so +practised a coquette and talented woman of the world as the once +brilliant Camille and Duchess of Gerolstein. Nevertheless, agitation +was in the air. Poussette went to and fro in much and very voluble +distress. The night closed in and brought no letter, no telegram from +Ringfield; how then--who, who would conduct the service? It was the +week of Christmas and a few more were already in the village, members +of families from afar and two or three visitors. + +The feast of Noël is full of importance to all of the Romish faith, and +Poussette knew of great things in preparation for the stone church on +the hill of St. Jean Baptiste in the way of candles, extra music and a +kind of Passion-play in miniature representing the manger, with cows +and horses, wagons and lanterns, the Mother and Child, all complete. +Should Ringfield not return----even as he spoke the wooden clock in the +kitchen pointed to ten; the last train had passed through Bois Clair +and Poussette abandoned all hope, while in order to prove his intense +and abject depression of mind, he broke his promise to the minister and +helped himself to some whisky. + +Thus, the absence of his mentor worked this unfortunate relapse, and +should Crabbe find out, there looked to be an old-time celebration at +Poussette's with Pauline and Pauline's rights entirely forgotten. As +it was, Miss Cordova caught the culprit before he was quite lost, and +mounting guard over the bar, entered upon those duties which, once +shouldered, remained hers for a considerable length of time. + +"Division of labour," she said smartly, and Poussette gave a foolish +smile. "You take the kitchen and I'll take the bar. Then when Maisie +and Jack arrive I can look after 'em. As like as not, Maisie'll be +hanging round for a drop of lager--what she could get, that is, out of +the glasses--I've seen her! And don't you fuss about Sunday, Mr. +Poussette! We'll get on just as well as if we had a church to go to +and a sermon to listen to. Guess you won't be wanting to see yourself +taking around the plate to-morrow, anyway." + +Poussette, lying crumpled up in a reclining chair, watched his new +friend with dawning reason and admiration. + +"Fonny things happens," said he, wagging his head, "I'll go to sleep +now and wake up--just in time--you'll see--to go to church, help Mr. +Ringfield take roun' the money--oh--I'll show you, I'll show you, Miss +Cordova." + +"You'll show me, will you?" said the barkeeper, absently. "What'll you +do if he don't come at all? He can't come now, and you know it." + +"I tell you--fonny things happens! I'll preach myself, read from the +Bible, sure." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +THE GLISSADE + + "The calm oblivious tendencies of nature." + + +Probably the most beautiful spectacle ever afforded by the natural +world is that of a complete and far-reaching ice-storm, locally known +as a glissade, transcending in delicate aerial fantasy the swiftly +changing faint green panorama of early spring or the amber hazes of +opulent autumn. A true and perfect glissade is comparatively rare; +like a fine display of the auroral arches, another wonder in the +visible universe, or the vast expanding and nobly symbolical rainbow, +it does not often occur, nor when it does, is it always a spectacle of +permanence as well as beauty. The conditions under which it develops +may frequently exist in the upper atmosphere, but to ensure the magical +and lovely effects which so singularly transform the plainest +landscape, these conditions must remain unchanged for a certain length +of time in order that the work of crystallization may be thoroughly +carried out. The movements and fluctuating currents of the air do not +often long maintain this tranquil and stationary poise, and +consequently we may sometimes witness attempts on the part of Nature to +create these distinctive and wondrous results which are quickly doomed +to thaw and oblivion. In the next place it follows that what we see so +seldom must greatly impress us because of its unfamiliarity and from +the fact that its evanescence renders its loveliness more precious; the +element of surprise increases our enjoyment, and all the more since the +materials in use are the oldest and most familiar in the world. Then, +to crown the work, there is not at any other season of the year or +during any variation of a winter climate, anything more soothing, +entrancing, more grateful and refreshing than the texture of the air +itself, the feeling of the air during the period of suspended +atmospheric action. It is not joyous, but it is better than joy. +There is nothing violent, nothing extreme; there is no dust, no flurry, +no glare. It is not cold but only pleasantly, smoothly cool, and the +final impression is one of temporary transportation to some calm +celestial region of infinite peace and purity. + +Standing at the left of Poussette's church on the brink of the Fall, +the eye, on the Monday following Crabbe's ignominious return, would +have rested lovingly upon such a scene of enchantment. The great +triple ledges of water which formed the cascade were only partially +frozen, and the spray, still dashing in parts against the rocks and +bare branches standing around them, seemed to congeal in mid-air, while +the tall pines spreading on either hand were bending from their normal +by weight of icy trappings. So much for the general effect--of a soft +yet crystalline whiteness covering and outlining every object--but in +detail, what a marvel of delicate tracery, what a miracle of intricate +interlacing of frosted boughs! Every twig was encased in a transparent +cylinder of flashing ice, every hillock crusted over with freshly +fallen snow; the evergreens, in shape like giant algae, drooped wide +fans to the earth, painted, spangled, and embroidered with glittering +encrustations; the wires across the river from Bois Clair to Montmagny +were harps of shining silver strings, the rough fences turned to +graceful arabesques, the houses changed to domes and turrets and +battlements of marble. + +The sun was veiled as yet, but occasionally from behind the +greyish-white of a cloudless spreading sky a pale yellow gleam stole +forth, creating fires of prismatic rose and violet in each glassy twig +and leaf. At these times, too, there woke and stirred a faint, faint +wind, almost a warm wind, and then, here and there, a little cushion or +mat or flag of snow would fall, or an icy stem break off. The silence +was absolute, animal life appeared suspended, the squirrels no longer +ran chattering in quest of food, as on mild days they will near +habitations, no bird was seen or heard. This state of coma or trance +held all created things, and as with most Canadian scenery, small +chance was there for sentiment; the shepherd of the Lake country or the +mountaineer of Switzerland were not represented by any picturesque +figure, although small spirals of smoke floated up from the straggling +settlements, and a habitant wife sometimes looked out from a door or a +window, her face dark and shrivelled for the most part, and with clumsy +woollen wraps thrown around head and shoulders. + +The absence of human interest and the silence intensified the serene +splendours of the forest and great Fall on such a day as this, when +growth and change had reached a standstill and when the cool brooding +of the air recalled the moments before dawn or the remote and unnatural +quiescence that marks an eclipse. To walk near the forest would mean +to encounter huge mounds of snow hiding the levelled logs and boulders, +stalactites of ponderous icicles depending from the tree trunks where +the openings faced the light and the sun; farther in, and once safely +past these glacial outposts, scarcely any signs of storm appeared; last +year's leaves, still matted together underfoot, were tangled with the +green vine of the creeping linnaea and a rare root of the lustrous +winter-green. Here, beneath the thick canopy of branches not all +devoid of their foliage since many larches and pines were to be found +there, was another climate; coming from that bland whiteness which was +not cold, these dark arcades of forest struck chills to the feet and +face; damp odours rose from rotting mould and wood not protected by a +snowy covering, and broad sallow fungi, wide enough to sit upon, looked +of an unearthly tint in the drear half-light. + +Naturally the sight of these glittering plains and frosted forests, +unusual even in that land of snow and ice, called for sightseers, and +at Poussette's every one had been up early to gaze on the outside +world, among whom were Miss Clairville and Crabbe, the latter feeling +his recent backsliding very keenly. Pauline had now finally packed her +little trousseau and other belongings, and arrangements were being made +to enable Poussette to leave his business and Miss Cordova her sewing; +the party of four were to descend on the Hotel Champlain on Wednesday, +the wedding would take place on Thursday, the married couple sailing at +once for Liverpool. + +Leaning on her lover's arm, Pauline therefore easily found warmth and +words with which to admire the landscape spread before her, for was she +not soon to leave it, exchanging these frigid and glacial glories for +life in a European capital, and, once for all, abandoning all ideas of +a career and relegating everything at St. Ignace and Clairville to a +place in her memory? Beautiful, then, she found it, and gaily +proposing a walk along the decorated road, suddenly remembered Angeel +and resolved to visit her and say good-bye. Crabbe demurred. + +"Why should you?" he said, with the nettled intolerance of a being +angry with himself, and prone to visit his ill-temper on others. + +"But I must, Edmund! I meant to before. If Henry had not died, or if +we had never found out about the other matter, I would have gone!" + +"I see no reason. The brat has its mother, hasn't it?" + +"Oh, don't be so hard! Yes, yes, of course, but she might like to +remember me, wish to see me once again,--it may be for the last time." + +"Gad--I think it will. I'm not worth much, 'pon my soul, but I can +take you away and save you from all this annoyance. I hate every hour +of delay, I dislike this loafing about here now. I wish--by Heaven! I +were leaving Poussette's this minute for good and all." + +His eye roved discontentedly over the forest and road, and then came +back wistfully to Pauline. It was evident that his affection was of a +sincere and unselfish order, and that with her to shield and serve and +with her lively handsome personality as his constant companion, he +might yet recover lost ground and be the man he might have been. + +"I keep telling you that we have not so long to wait," she said +brightly, as she went indoors to get ready for the walk, and Crabbe, +turning his gaze in the direction of the bridge, became interested in +the aspect of the Fall, still thundering down in part over those mighty +ledges, except where the ice held and created slippery glaciers at +whose feet ran the cold brown river for a few hundred yards till it was +again met by fields of shining ice. Two objects caught his eye, one, +the golden cross on the church over at Montmagny, the only one of its +kind in the valley and much admired, the other, a curious spot of +reddish colour at the far end of the bridge. The cross he soon tired +of, but the bit of red aroused his curiosity; it seemed almost square, +like a large book or package, and was apparently propped up against the +stonework that supported the bridge. What it was, he did not trouble +to conjecture, and as Miss Clairville came out with several parcels +which he took from her, he forgot the circumstance as he turned and +walked a few steps with her. Thus, her quicker brain was not directed +to an explanation of the blot of red; had she seen it, and solved it, +which was highly probable, the events of the day might have been vastly +different. + +"What are these things?" said Crabbe, fingering the parcels with a +fretful note in his voice. + +"Just some little presents, little trifles for her, Angeel. Nothing I +cannot spare, Edmund. She belongs to me, after all. I shall never see +her again, and I must not do less for her than for Maisie and Jack. +You are coming with me? It is not worth while. I prefer to go alone, +_mon ami_." + +"Why not? A walk with you may keep me out of mischief, although with +your theatrical friend mounting guard over Poussette I think I can +promise you abstinence for the next few days." + +Miss Clairville stopped in her brisk walk and searched his worn face. +"You are not well," she said suddenly, "you are not looking well." + +He raised his arms, then dropped them with a kind of whimsical +desperation. "How can I be well, or look well? My pride has suffered +as well as my health. I'm ill, ashamed, and sorry. What'll we do, +Pauline, if I can't keep sober?" + +He had often said this to her, but never with such depth of sorrowful +meaning as now. + +"What shall we do, lady dear?" he repeated in a helpless, fretful +murmur. "What shall we do?" + +Her figure stiffened, she was again the tragic muse, the woman of the +world with experience and authority behind her, and, woman-like, as he +weakened, she grew stronger. + +"You are not likely to," she cried with a fine encouraging gesture. +"It is possible, I admit, but not probable. For you, Edmund, as well +as for me, it is new places, new images, for the snows of this forlorn, +this desolate, cold Canada; the boulevards of Paris, for the hermit's +cell in the black funereal forest.--There goes your friend Martin now, +_voilà_! _B'jour_, Martin." + +"_B'jour_, mademoiselle!" + +"Those apartments you spoke of in London, in German Street. Tell +me--is that some colony where musicians, perhaps, gather, or the +long-haired art students I have heard so much about?" + +Crabbe stared. + +"Students! Colony! Jermyn Street? Oh--I see--_German_ Street--I see, +I understand." + +He laughed, but not quite freely--spontaneously. Indeed, so much did +he feel some unaccustomed stress, he did not stop to set her right. +What did her ignorance of a certain London locality matter? what did +anything matter just now but the one leading uppermost thought--let +nothing prevent our leaving this place together and leaving it soon, no +failure of mine, no caprice of hers, no interference of another? New +resolution showed in his features; he dropped her hand which he had +been holding and turned back towards Poussette's. + +"You are right, as usual," he said soberly. "There's no need for me to +go with you. I'll turn home-along as they used to say in Devonshire, +and try to do a little writing while I can, for after to-morrow I fear +it will not be easy. So good-bye to you, lady dear, good-bye for an +hour or two, good-bye!" + +A little chilled by standing, in spite of that soft wind, Pauline ran +lightly along towards Lac Calvaire, conscious always of her fine +appearance and humming operatic snatches as she ran, bent upon an +errand, which if not precisely one of mercy was yet one prompted by +good-will and a belated sisterliness. The glowing prospects ahead +opened her heart, not by nature a hard one, and happy in the character +of _grande dame_ and patron of the afflicted she went forth briskly on +her long walk at first. She reflected that her thirtieth birthday was +past, but that before a year had elapsed she would be firmly planted +abroad enjoying plenty of money, change of scene, and variety of +occupation, and even should Crabbe relapse, she saw herself rejuvenated +and strong in hope, capable of studying fresh parts beneath a new and +stimulating sky. Yet under these comforting reflections there lurked +an uneasy fear; the Clairville streak in her made her suspicious of her +present happiness, and as she perceived the well-known reddish gables +of her home, through the surrounding pines and snow, a qualm of unrest +shot through her. It was only a week since she had driven away with +Dr. Renaud, and here she was, again drawn by irresistible force towards +the detested Manor House of her fathers, now completely in the hands of +the Archambaults, with the giggling, despised Artémise and the +afflicted Angeel seated in possession, and this unrest, this fear, was +intimately concerned with the future and the fate of Ringfield. + +She said to herself as if speaking to Miss Cordova:-- + +"You have not felt the force of that strong character pushing against +your own, nor the terrible grip of that hand-pressure, nor the +insistence of those caresses which hurt as well as delighted, so +different from the lazy, careless little appropriations of my present +lover,--pats and kisses he might give to a child." + +Ringfield's arms had drawn her to him till she could have cried out +with fear, his eyes had shudderingly gazed into hers as if determined +to wrest any secret she possessed, his lips had pained her with the +fierce anger and despair of those two long kisses he had pressed upon +her own--how could she forget or belittle such wooing as that, so +different from Crabbe's leisurely, complacent courting! She neither +forgot nor underrated, but she had deliberately and cruelly left one +for the other, and deep in her heart she knew that something sinister, +something shocking and desperate, might yet befall, and what she feared +to hear was of Ringfield's suicide, for she fancied him capable of this +final act of self-pity and despair. + +By the time she reached Clairville the sun was again shining and the +beauty of the glissade beginning to wane. Dark-haired Archambaults +flitted about behind dingy windows--and, wondrous sight on a +mid-December day--the white peacock, tempted by the calm air, was +taking a walk in the wintry garden. Pauline summoned up her courage to +enter the house and was rewarded by the hysterical delight of Angeel, +brought up to admire and adore this haughty relation, who was soon +dispensing her small bounties in order to make the visit as short as +possible. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +THE CARPET-BAG + + "... this solitude + That seems by nature framed to be the seat + And very bosom of pure innocence." + + +The squarish spot of scarlet observed by Crabbe at the farther end of +the bridge was the unaesthetic carpet-bag brought by Ringfield with him +from the West; a field of glaring Turkey red, in design depicting a +kind of colossal sunflower with a green heart instead of a black one. +So contemptuous had always been the attitude of the guide towards his +clerical rival that he had quite forgotten this bag although it was so +conspicuous; such bags, moreover, were quite common at the time, and +these facts rendered him unsuspicious. Therefore, as he neared the +fall and looked along the bridge and still observed that flaming spot +of vivid colour, it was natural that, in place of going to his work as +he had told Miss Clairville he intended to do, he should turn off in +the opposite direction and leisurely walk forth to examine the +phenomenon. + +The bridge was knee-deep in unbroken snow, for no vehicle had crossed +since the late storm, and there had been no service at Poussette's +church. Crabbe walked on, not without some difficulty, lifting his +feet higher and higher as he neared the centre of the structure. +Underneath roared and tumbled the savage fall, although just above the +bridge on his right hand the river was partly frozen, and large cakes +of ice, loosened by the milder weather, were going over the first of +the brown ledges with a rapid, rocking plunge. Each side of the bridge +was a network of icy spars, dazzling in the sunshine, now becoming much +brighter, and Crabbe, turning to look on the wonderful scene around and +beneath him, had forgotten his ultimate goal--the alluring +carpet-bag--when a singular thing occurred. His right foot, as he put +it down through the snow went through the snow and went beyond it; he +felt the unexpected depth before he realized what had happened, that +there was at this point a hole in the planks forming the footway and +that probably from the weight of the snow and ice an old and rotting +board had suddenly given way and dropped out. His leg had gone +entirely through, and in the fright and concern of the moment he +fancied the hole wearing larger and the rest of his body following, but +this was not the case. He was in some peril, it was true, but the +opening was not so large as he thought, the chief danger arising from +the fact that in his struggles to pull himself up again he might bring +about further loosening of the boards. If he had been watched by any +one at Poussette's his relief was at hand, but he feared that at this +time of day no one might be looking out, and this was the case. +Besides, the bridge lay, not directly in front of the village and the +hotel, but rather to one side; a large grove of pine-trees intercepted +the view, and unless he could speedily succour himself there was slight +prospect of help from outside. Fortunately it was extremely mild. + +He hesitated to call, because, as his nervousness subsided, he disliked +to cut a poor figure, but at this point in his dilemma what he had +feared actually happened; as he brought his leg and almost half of his +body up through the hole another piece of planking came away and he was +left clasping the edge of rotten wood in a state of collapse hardly to +be described, his eyes alternately gazing at the sunny, unfeeling skies +above and the gaping cavern immediately beneath. He was swaying now in +mid-air and he found his voice and called repeatedly, but it was not +likely that amid the surrounding tumult of angry waters his voice would +be heard. With a great effort he pulled himself up, praying that the +board might hold; he got on to one knee, then on to both, he swung out +until he gripped the icy railings, and then with another wrench, he was +free of the ugly hole and safe--safe after all and none the worse +except in nervous tremors and a slight strain of the back for what +must, however, remain in his memory as a thrilling and most alarming +experience. Fear of Death for an instant had gripped him, and he saw +himself, as do the drowning, engulfed in the rushing icy waters and +shot down to a violent fate with Pauline's wild voice in his ears and +Pauline's pale face before his eyes. Yet, the peril over, he breathed +freely again, and carefully holding on by the rail all along the path +lest some other treacherous pitfall should lurk beneath the snow, +reached the end of the bridge in safety. + +Then he saw the carpet-bag and remembered it, and in that instant a +pang of horrid doubt and fear passed through him and he looked around +for Ringfield. Escape from death gave him additional courage and +sharpened his wits; his brain cleared now and did him good service, he +felt himself a man, able to resist and proud to endure, and he hoped to +meet the parson and demand explanations from him, for he could scarcely +be blamed for divining some connexion between the deadly gap in the +bridge and the carefully planted decoy--the carpet-bag. Yet in this +induction he was wrong. The hole under the snow had not been known to +Ringfield and the bag had been left by him in a certain position of +safety while he was inside the little church--nothing more. Even as +Crabbe was standing with growing wrath and gathering resolution in his +expression and demeanour Ringfield walked out and confronted him. + +Hatred, nothing less, looked forth from his lowering brows and bitter +mouth, and he was met by answering hate, wedded to cruel scorn, in the +guide. The latter spoke first. + +"Do you know what has nearly happened?" he cried with a fine tempest of +wrath kindling in his usually contemptuous manner. "I could have you +arrested, more than that, my good sir, Mr. Methodist +Parson!--convicted, perhaps worse, for the trap you led me into! You +and your bag--confound you!" + +Ringfield, who could hardly look more miserable on this accusation than +he did already from illness and other causes, made some dumb motion +with his hands and started as he perceived the traces of struggle about +the other. + +"My bag? The carpet-bag? What has that to do with you, with us? What +are you talking of? What trap? I know nothing of any trap." + +"Do you know nothing of a man caught there in the middle of the bridge +where the footway has fallen out--do you know nothing of that man +struggling to lift himself up from that cursed hole and crying for +help? You know nothing, do you?" + +Ringfield's surprise was genuine, as Crabbe was beginning to see. + +"Certainly I know nothing, have heard nothing. I have been in the +church some time, an hour I should think. A hole----" + +Then he remembered. + +"The dog!" he cried. "The little dead dog! Now I understand. He must +have fallen through. I wondered at the time how he got out there under +the bridge on top of those rolling logs that carried him over the fall. +Once there, it was impossible to save him. I remember his eyes." + +"What are you talking about now?" said the other angrily. "I'll swear +you knew something of that hole and meant to see me go down through it." + +Ringfield smiled with that slow, wry smile of his. + +"I knew nothing of the hole. But I am not so sure that I would be +sorry if I saw you go down through it this moment, so long as it was +not my direct work. You and I can never be friends. You and I cannot +expect tolerance of each other. We are enemies, we must always be +enemies, to the death--to the death!" + +Crabbe had, as usual, the upper hand in ease and coolness, and being +now quite restored in physical courage he began to note the signs of +illness and misery in the other's face. He was almost sorry for him +and said so. + +"I'm sorry for all this, Ringfield, I really am. It's some +misunderstanding, I suppose. I can't blame you for admiring Pauline. +I don't blame you for it. You're a man, despite your calling, same as +I am. And I have liked you better since you have shown me your rough +side.--By Heaven, I have, Ringfield! Things have turned out in an +unexpected way with me, and you have suffered on account, and if not in +silence, as we might look for from you, why, it only proves you a man +like the rest of us! You'll get over it, you know. She's to leave +here for good with me the day after to-morrow; everything's settled and +it's much the best thing that could happen for both of us. I wish you +would be reasonable and understand this and make her going away easier." + +This rambling speech was received at first in silence, then Ringfield +spoke, his slow utterances affording a contrast to the half-jocular, +half-querulous words of the ex-guide. + +"That word reasonable! Be reasonable! You--you ask me to be +reasonable! As if I were at fault, as if I were doing her the injury! +God knows I have my own battle to fight, my own self to overcome, but +that is beside the question. Do you see nothing unreasonable in your +own relation to--to Miss Clairville? When I came here--and God knows +I'm sorry at times I ever came or stayed--I met Miss Clairville. I +talked to her and she to me. I learned her mind, or thought I did. I +fathomed her heart, or she allowed me to think so, and thus I became +acquainted with her story, the story that is concerned with her young +life and with you. I was deeply affected, deeply moved, deeply +interested--how could it be otherwise! And then to my eternal sorrow, +as I fear, I grew to love her. She--she--returned it." + +Crabbe made some indistinct remark, but Ringfield went on without +caring to ask what it was. + +"I tell you--she returned my affection and gave me proof of it. All +that, whatever it was between us, is very sacred and I am not going to +talk about it. Then you know what happened; you would not leave her +alone, you followed and I believe annoyed and pestered her, using the +power you have over her for her destruction and despair." + +"The whole thing is monstrous," cried the other hotly. "You have cast +your damned ugly, black shadow over this place too long as it is! Miss +Clairville is no child; she knows, has always known, her own mind, and +I do not grudge her a slight flirtation or two with any one she +fancies; it is her way, a safe outlet for her strong yet variable +temperament. You take things too seriously, that's all." + +And the guide, slapping and shaking the snow from his clothing and +adjusting his cap, walked down from the bridge to one side and sat upon +a rock in sheer fatigue. It was the identical rock from which +Poussette had been pulled back by Ringfield on that April day when the +affairs of the parish had been discussed, and was no safer now than at +that time, in fact, footing was precarious everywhere around the fall, +for the same glassy covering, slowly melting and slippery, had spread +to all objects in sight. + +Ringfield, too, turned and stood a few yards behind the guide and again +he kept that peculiar silence. + +"Now consider," said Crabbe quietly, looking in his pocket for matches +and holding his pipe comfortably in his hand. "I'm perfectly ready to +sympathize with you. I know when you first saw me you cannot have been +very pleasantly impressed, and all that, but that's all or nearly all +over, and I'm going to try and turn over a new leaf, Ringfield. No +more Nature for me, nor for her; we are to flee these dismal wilds and +try a brighter clime,--a brighter clime! You must be generous and +confess that I can do more for her than you can. It will be a new +lease of life for us both, but candidly, Ringfield--lazy dog and worse +that I have been--I think more of what it will mean for her than for +myself." + +"If you consider her happiness and her--her good name so much," said +Ringfield, trembling and white, "why did you lie to me about your +relations with her?" + +"When did I lie to you?" + +"You cannot have forgotten. That day in the shack, the first day I met +you." + +"That is easily explained." Crabbe continued to look at and think of +his pipe, oblivious of the white countenance behind him. "I spoke +after a fashion. The thing--I mean our relations--amounted virtually +to a marriage. The difference was in your thought--in your mind. You +pictured a ceremony, a religious rite, whereas I intended to convey the +idea of a state, a mutual feeling----" + +"You allowed me to think of a ceremony, you encouraged me to think of +it." + +"Nothing of the sort. Besides, I was not sober at the time. Make +allowances, my Christian friend, always make allowances." + +"Then what of the child? If you mentioned anything it should have been +the child." + +At this Crabbe turned, and so sudden was his movement that Ringfield +retreated as if caught guiltily; in doing so he very nearly slipped on +the icy rocks that sloped imperceptibly towards the rushing fall, and +he was about to warn the guide, who was farther down the bank than +himself when the latter, rising abruptly, cried:-- + +"The child? What child? There never was any child. Thank heaven, we +were spared that complication!" + +"You deny it? You deny it in the face of the likeness, of the stories +of the village and the entire countryside; in face of the misery its +existence has caused her--the mother, and of the proof in your own +sodden, embruted condition, in face of her own admission----" + +"Admission? It is impossible she can have admitted what never +occurred. What did she say?" + +"She implied--implied--made me think----" + +"Made you think?" said the guide in disgust. "Made you think? That's +what's been the matter with you all along;--you think too much. You +wanted a bigger parish, Reverend Father, to occupy your time and mind. +St. Ignace was too small." + +This tone of banter was the one least calculated to appease the jealous +and vindictive spirit holding Ringfield in its grasp. He became +whiter, more agitated, and held up one hand as if to guard himself, yet +there was nothing furious in Crabbe's manner; rather the contrary, for +he was relieved at hearing of the natural misapprehension by which he +had been looked upon as Angeel's father. But Ringfield was difficult +to convince. No gossip had reached him where he lay at Archibald +Groom's, with Madame Poussette watching him, nor at the Hotel Champlain +where he had staggered the night before for a mad moment only, as he +asked for news of Crabbe and was told that he gone back to St. Ignace; +therefore he knew nothing of the _affaire Archambault_, as some of the +provincial papers called it, and had heard only the bare facts of Henry +Clairville's death and burial. To complete his ignorance, the +charitable institutions to which he had written had neglected to answer +his letters, for such an offer coming from such a source required time +for consideration, and his brain, neither a subtly trained nor +naturally cunning one, was incapable of those shifting drifts of +thought which occupy themselves with idly fitting certain acts to +certain individuals. His literal mind had always connected. Miss +Clairville, from the day of the Hawthorne picnic, with Angeel, and to +be told that they were not, as he had supposed, mother and child, was +only to merge him in the absolutely crushing puzzle of a +question--whose child then could she be? Might it not be--for here at +last his mind gave a twist, fatal to its usual literal drift--her child +by some one other than Crabbe? For who could mistake the eyes and +their expression, the way the hair grew on the forehead, the shape of +the hands, white and firm like Pauline's,--resemblances all made the +stranger by association with the unnaturally formed head and shoulders +of the unhappy child? + +The two stood facing each other; the Christian minister, originally a +being of blameless instincts and moral life, but now showing a +countenance and owning a temper distorted to sinful conditions from the +overshadowing of the great master passion; and the battered exile, +genuine, however, in his dealings with himself, and sincere in the +midst of degradation. So the Pharisee and the publican might have +stood. So in all ages often stand those extreme types, the moral man +who has avoided or by circumstances been free of temptation, and the +sinner who yet keeps a universal kindliness or other simple virtue in +his heart. Anguish in one was met by cheerful contempt and growing +pity in the other, and once more Crabbe essayed to reason with +Ringfield. + +"Believe me," he said, "I would give way to the better man, and you, of +course, are he, if I thought Miss Clairville's future would thereby be +benefited, but I cannot imagine anything more uncongenial than the life +which you--pardon me--would be likely to offer her. She has no money +and she loves money. She is tired of her home and all these +surroundings; I can take her from them for ever. She is gifted, +intelligent, and brilliant, and I can show her much that will interest +and transform her. She runs a risk, certainly, in marrying me, but she +knows my worst, and by Heaven--Ringfield, there's a power of comfort in +that! No setting on a pedestal, no bowing to an idol--and then perhaps +she will help in the working out of the tiger and the ape, make the +beast within me die. How the old familiar lines come back to one here +in this solitary place! I suppose I'll go down to Oxford some day and +see my old rooms,--take Pauline. We'd like to keep in touch with you, +Ringfield, send you a line now and then after you leave St. Ignace, for +I don't figure you remaining here all your life at the beck and call of +Poussette." + +Ringfield's eyes were on the ground, for a deep mystification still +possessed him; he had scarcely heard the latter part of Crabbe's +speech, for there remained unanswered that question in his tortured +mind--whose child was Angeel if not Pauline's, for he still saw the +basket-chair with the dreadful face in it as he looked down in the +barn, and still heard those damaging whispers from Enderby the night of +the concert. + +A groan escaped him; he threw a pained and bitter glance at Crabbe and +again studied the ground. + +"I find it hard to believe you. Hard, hard. The people at Hawthorne +all say it was--it was her's. Enderby told me." + +"God help you for a silly lunatic if you listen to the tales of country +people, Ringfield! They may have said so, they may have said all kinds +of stuff--I never spoke of it to a living soul myself, even in my cups; +I'll swear I left it alone even then." + +"But now, now you can speak! The time has come to speak! If not you, +then who, who could be that poor child's father!" + +"Why, of course I can tell you that!" said Crabbe, coming a pace +nearer. "I wonder you have not guessed by now. Her brother, Henry +Clairville. It was a bad business, but he paid for it, as we all do, +Ringfield, we all do." + +With a fierce gesture of extreme astonishment the minister sprang +forward and in his excitement struck the guide on the breast, a heavy +blow. Startled into forgetting his dangerous position, Crabbe threw +himself backward, seeing, as he thought, sudden madness in the other's +eyes, and immediately his doom was sealed. He slipped, tripped, tried +to save himself, rolled from one ice-covered boulder to another, was +cast from one mighty cauldron of furious seething waters to another, +and finally disappeared in the deeper pools that formed the lower and +greater fall. His poor body, bruised and beaten, choked and maimed, +had met the same fate as the little dog--and, strange to relate--he had +uttered no cry as he sank backwards into the cold watery abysses from +which there was no escape; his face only showed surprise and reproach +as he looked his last on Ringfield and this world. When upon the +bridge he had expected death, set his teeth and prayed, felt all vital +force drop away, then by degrees flow back again, but now, when Death +clutched him from behind and thrust him over those slippery precipices, +to the last moment there was only a profound consternation in his +staring blue eyes, as if he found it impossible to believe he was being +sucked down, whirled down, to eternity. Such was the end of Edmund +Crabbe Hawtree, Esquire, of Suffolk, England. + +Ringfield had not moved since Crabbe had fallen. His face was horrible +in the white intensity of its passion, and he continued to stare at the +spot where a moment before the guide had been sitting without making +the slightest endeavour to go to the rescue, or, by shouting for +assistance, attract the attention of people on the inhabited side of +the river. The image of the little dead dog merged into that of Crabbe +and vice versa; he confused these images and saw unnatural shapes +struggling in stormy waters, and thus the time wore on, ten, twenty, +thirty minutes, before he perceived a man at the far end of the bridge. +At first he thought it was Poussette, then it looked like Martin; +finally he knew it for Father Rielle, and at this everything cleared +and came back to him. He recollected the great hole spoken of by +Crabbe and knew that he ought to call out or lift a hand in warning, +yet he did neither. Father Rielle, however, was not too preoccupied to +observe the hole; he walked around it instead of over or through it and +had the presence of mind to pause, and after a few minutes' kneading +and compressing lumps of the damp snow into a species of scarecrow, +erected the clumsy squat figure of a misshapen man by the side of the +yawning gap and passed on. The sun was radiantly bright by now and the +ice beginning to melt off from twigs and wires; the red carpet-bag +flamed forth more emphatically than ever, and presently the two men +were not more than a few paces apart. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +THE HAVEN + + "Stripp'd as I am of all the golden fruit + Of self-esteem; and by the cutting blasts + Of self-reproach familiarly assail'd." + + +Ringfield bared his head as the priest approached, standing with +lowered eyes and heaving breast. Father Rielle stopped short in wonder +as he noted the pale drawn face, the working hands, the averted eyes +and trembling lips. + +"Can I do anything for you?" he cried in his excellent English. +"Monsieur is not well perhaps? This peculiar day, this air----" + +"You are right. I am not well. I have been very ill, but that was +nothing, only illness of the body. Yes, there is one thing you can do +for me. Oh! man of God! What does it matter that I do not belong to +your communion? It must not matter, it shall not matter. Father +Rielle, I need your help very much, very, very much." + +In still profounder astonishment the priest took a step forward. + +"You are in trouble, trouble of the soul, some perplexity of the mind? +Tell me then how I can help?" + +And Ringfield answered:-- + +"Father Rielle, I wish to confess to you. I wish you to hear a +confession." + +"Oh! Monsieur, think! We are not of the same communion. You have +said so yourself. You would perhaps ridicule my holy office, my +beloved Church!" + +"No, no! I am too much in earnest." + +"You wish me to hear a confession, you, a minister of another religious +body not in sympathy with us, not a son of the only true Church? I do +not care to receive this confession, Monsieur." + +Ringfield's hand pressed heavily on the priest's arm and his agonized +face came very close. Father Rielle's curiosity naturally ran high. + +"Monsieur," he said nevertheless coldly, not choosing to display this +desire to know too suddenly, as there darted into his mind the image of +Miss Clairville, "it is true you have no right to demand absolution +from me, a priest of the Holy Catholic Church, it is true I have no +right to hear this confession and give or withhold absolution. Yet, +monsieur, setting dogma and ritual aside, we both believe in the same +Heavenly Father, in the same grand eternal hope. I will hear this +confession, my brother, _in nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti_, +Amen. And may it bring peace to your soul." + +There was a silence, and then Ringfield led the way to the little +church. Father Rielle, who had never been inside the finished edifice +before, although he had frequently walked through it while the builders +were at work, entered respectfully and crossed himself in the porch. + +"Ah!" he whispered or rather breathed in French as if disinclined to +speak louder, "if you were but as I am, my brother, if you were but one +of the true flock shepherded by the only Shepherd! Perhaps this is but +the beginning. Perhaps you desire to cast away your inadequate faith +and come to us, be one with us. My brother, I pray that this may be +so. With us alone you shall have comfort to your soul and sweet solace +in affliction, peace of mind, honesty of conviction, and after many a +struggle, purity of life." + +As he ceased, Ringfield, by some extraordinary instinct which mastered +him, at once fell upon his knees at the side of Father Rielle, who had +taken a seat not far from the door, where he might command a view of +the bridge in case of interruption, and with that dangerous hole in the +footway in his memory. + +"If I say 'Holy Father,' will that be right?" + +"Quite right, my son. Have no fear. Say on." + +Ringfield bowed his head on his hands and began:-- + +"Holy Father----" + +The priest waited quietly. His thin sensitive visage was transfigured +and his whole being uplifted and dignified as he thus became the +Mediator between Man and God. + +"Holy Father, I know no form of word----" + +"That does not matter. Whether you cry 'Peccavi' or 'Father, I have +sinned,' it is all the same." + +"Holy Father, I have sinned, sinned grievously before God and Heaven, +before men and angels, but most of all have I sinned before my own +ideals and conceptions of what I meant to be--a Christian clergyman. +Hear my confession, Holy Father; with you to love, love a woman, would +be sin; it was not sin for me, and yet in loving a woman it became sin +also with me, for it blotted out God and humanity. I not only loved--I +also hated; I lived to hate. I hated while I was awake and while I +slept, in walking, in eating, in drinking, so that my life became a +burden to me and I forsook the throne of God in prayer." + +The priest, in the moment's pause which had followed these words of +self-abasement, had seen something across the river that claimed his +attention, nevertheless he gravely encouraged the penitent. + +"Keep nothing back, my son. Let me hear all." + +What he had seen was a man running up and down in front of Poussette's, +in some agitation as he fancied, presently to be joined by two or three +others. + +"Thus I lived, hating. I left this place, hating, and I followed him, +you know whom I mean, hating. I met him there or rather I sought him +out and helped him to fall, watched him drink strong liquor and did not +intervene, did not stay his hand. I made him drunk--I left him +drunk--I left him drunk. I went away and lied. I said he was ill and +I locked the door and took the key. I went back again and saw him; he +was still drunk and I was glad, because I thought 'This will keep him +here, this will make her hate and avoid him, this will prevent the +marriage'." + +Father Rielle, though listening intently, still kept his gaze riveted +on the peculiar actions of the men outside Poussette's. The running to +and fro continued, but now suddenly an impulse prompted them to go in +one direction; they pointed, gesticulated, and then with startling +rapidity disappeared around the corner of the bridge. By this time the +priest was convinced that something was transpiring of serious and +uncommon import, yet he gave precedence to the wants of the penitent, +kneeling with head on his hands. + +"I vowed he should never marry her--you know of whom I am speaking, of +both?" + +"I know, my son." + +"I say--I followed him. I took a room--I will tell you where, +later--which enabled me to watch him should he go out. Then I fell ill +myself and had to be kept in bed. O the torture, the pain, of knowing +that I might miss him, that he might leave without my knowledge, I, +from weakness, being unable to overtake him! And that happened, that +came to pass, as I feared it would." + +"You watched him go?" + +"No. When I recovered sufficiently to walk, I went to find him. I +went to that place where I had helped to make him drunk, but he was +gone." + +"What day was that?" + +"I do not know. I have lost track of the days, lost track of the time." + +Father Rielle was now more than professionally interested; he saw that +the man before him was in a terrible state of incipient mental collapse. + +"Surely you can tell me what day this is?" he cried. + +"I cannot." + +"Nor yesterday?" + +"No." + +"Yesterday was Sunday." + +"Sunday? The word has no meaning." + +"But at least you know where you are, where we both are at this +instant." + +"Yes, I know that. We are in the church built by M. Poussette." + +"Yesterday was Sunday and there should have been a service here, but +you were absent. How long have you been here? Were you waiting for +me?" + +"No." + +"For him?" + +"Yes." + +"And he came? Over the bridge?" + +In a flash the priest divined, as he thought, the fate of Crabbe. + +"_Mon Dieu! M'tenant je comprends_! The hole I passed and all-but +stumbled through! You cut that, you waited to see him fall through and +drown! Perhaps he has ceased to struggle! Ah! that is why the crowd +is gathering at Poussette's!" + +Father Rielle rose to his feet and thrust aside the appealing hands of +the other, but the strength exerted in this supreme moment was terrific +and the priest could not escape. + +"No, no," sobbed Ringfield, dry-eyed and trembling. "I know what you +think--that I pushed him over, that I pushed him down, but I did not. +I wished to kill him, I wished to put him out of the way, but I had not +the courage. He crossed in safety, the hole was not my doing. He +stood there on the rock and he lied to me about her, about Miss +Clairville, and I struck him and he stumbled and fell." + +"You pushed him, God forgive you, I know you pushed! You have killed +him and now you are keeping me here. Let me go, let me go!" + +"I did not push, I swear it! Only in my mind, only in my thoughts, did +I kill him. I struck him and he fell. But it is true that I am guilty +in thought, if not in deed, and I will take my punishment." + +"What do you mean? What are you saying? One moment you are innocent +of this man's death; the next you are saying you are guilty." + +Ringfield at last removed his heavy clasp from the priest's arm and +stood quietly waiting, it seemed, as if for condemnation or sentence. + +"Before God, it was not my hand that sent him to his death, still, +having come to my senses, I desire to suffer for my fault, and I will +give myself up to take what punishment I deserve. I have disgraced my +calling and my Church. I can never preach again, never live the life +of a Christian minister again. Some shelter I must seek, some silence, +some reparation I must make----" + +He bent his eyes on the ground, his whole mien expressed the contrition +of the sinner, but Father Rielle thought more of the affair from the +standpoint of crime than from that of sin. + +"What do you mean by punishment?" he said, torn between curiosity to +know what had really become of the guide and a wish to hear everything +Ringfield had to say. While the priest was thus hesitating to move +along the road to the point where by making a slight detour among some +pines he could cross farther down, a striking but wholly incongruous +figure emerged from the trees. With shining top hat, fur-lined coat, +gauntlets and cane, M. Lalonde, the Montreal detective, came forward +with his professional conceit no whit impaired by juxtaposition with +these glacial and solitary surroundings. He handed his card to the +priest and bowed to them both. + +"_Mon Dieu_!" muttered Father Rielle, "it is true then! You saw it +all! You saw it all--I can see!" + +"What there was to see, I certainly saw," returned M. Lalonde, with a +careless glance of pity at the forlorn figure of Ringfield. "I not +only saw, but I heard. I followed this gentleman from the Hotel +Champlain as he followed--our late acquaintance--to this place. Permit +me, monsieur, permit me, _monsieur le curé_, to testify if necessary +that you are entirely guiltless of the death." + +"In act, yes, but not in thought," groaned Ringfield in deepest anguish. + +"The law cannot punish for sins of thought; we leave that to the +Church. If, monsieur, you had but inquired further into what is known +now in provincial annals as the Archambault affair, perhaps you might +have been spared some misapprehension and much suffering. Mr. Henry +Clairville left a wife." + +"A wife!" + +"You did not know that? Eh? A wife certainly, as well as a child. A +daughter." + +"But who----" + +"I reciprocate your astonishment. The child's nurse is its mother; +she, the empty-headed, the foolish Artémise. She was not of age, it is +true, but there--it is done and who cares now, who will interfere or +contest? The matter will drop out of sight completely in a few days; +meanwhile, monsieur, I return as I came. The morning is fine and I +shall enjoy my walk back to the station at Bois Clair. _Monsieur le +curé_, you have my card. At any time in your _paroisse_ should you +have any more interesting family secrets to divulge, pray do not forget +my address. _Allons_! I will walk with you to the scene of the +tragedy, as we shall see it shortly described in the papers. As for +you, monsieur, have courage and be tranquil. Rest, monsieur, rest for +awhile and leave these scenes of strife and unhappiness as soon as you +can. I understand your case; my professional knowledge avails me here, +but there are some who might not understand, and so make it hard for +you." + +The priest looked at Lalonde's card and then at Ringfield. + +"Sinner, or worse," he cried, "I cannot, cannot stay. I must go where +my duty calls me and see if I can be of use, see whether a man lives or +has been shot down to death. Do nothing till I return; at least do +nothing desperate. I will seek you as soon as I may. There will be a +way out for you yet; I know a haven, a refuge. Only promise me; +promise not to give up to remorse and contrition too deeply." + +Ringfield stood pale and quiet and gave the promise, but Father Rielle +and Lalonde ran along the road leading back from the fall until they +reached a point where the river was sufficiently frozen to admit of +walking across. Arrived at last among those who had left Poussette's a +quarter of an hour before, they were just in time to view the body of +the guide where it lay wedged between two large ice-covered boulders. +In a few minutes Martin drew it forth; Dr. Renaud was speedily +summoned, but life was surely quite extinct, and now the priest and +physician met in consultation as to the task of breaking the tragic +news to Miss Clairville. In a little while the whole of St. Ignace +gathered upon the river-bank to discuss the accident in voluble and +graphic French. It was seventeen years since any one had gone over the +fall in such a manner and only the oldest present remembered it. + +The body of the unfortunate Englishman was taken to Gagnon's +establishment and placed in the room recently occupied by Ringfield, +who went home with the priest and to whom he seemed to turn in +ever-increasing confidence and respect. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +THE WILL OF GOD + + "I hope, said she, that Heaven + Will give me patience to endure the things + Which I behold at home...." + + +The glorious noonday sun was lighting up all the road to Clairville and +making it possible for the peacock to revive his display of a +glistening fan of feathers tipped with frosted filaments that were only +rivalled by the pendant encrustations of the surrounding trees, and in +a window of the manor Pauline was standing looking at the bird after +showing Angeel the various little trifles she had brought with her. +The child's infirmity did not prevent her from enjoying the good things +of life; indeed, as frequently occurs in such cases, her senses were +almost preternaturally acute and her faculties bright and sensitive in +the extreme. In place of any system of general education, impossible +during those sequestered years at Hawthorne in charge of her incapable +mother, she had picked up one or two desultory talents which might yet +stand her instead of mere bookishness; she was never without a pencil +in her long white fingers and busied herself by the hour with little +drawings and pictures of what she had seen in her limited experience, +and some of these she had been exhibiting now to the person she held +both in awe and adoration. Her kinship to this elegant, dark-haired +lady had only recently been explained, and Pauline was trying to +accustom herself to being addressed as "ma tante" and "tante chérie" +with other endearing and embarrassing terms of regard. + +But the time was going on and Miss Clairville turned from the window; a +very little of Angeel was all she could stand just now. + +"At this rate our beautiful view will soon disappear," she said, +sitting down beside the basket-chair. "See then, _mon enfant_, how +already the ice drips off the trees and all the pretty glass tubes are +melting from the wires overhead! It is so warm too, like a day in +spring. _Eh! bien_, I must go now back to my friends who are waiting +for me. I have nothing more to show little girls. You have now the +beads, the satin pincushion, and the little red coat that is called a +Zouave jacket--see how gay! and you will find it warm and pleasant to +wear when your kind _maman_ makes it to fit you. And here too are the +crayons to paint with and a new slate. _Soyez toujours bonne fille, +p'tite_, and perhaps some day you will see your poor aunt again." + +"Not my poor aunt! My rich, _rich_ aunt." + +"Ah--_tais toi, ma p'tite_! But you, too, are not poor any longer. +That reminds me, I must have a little talk with your kind _maman_." + +With some difficulty overcoming her dislike of the individual and +aversion to the entire family arrangement, Pauline walked out to the +hall which separated the faded _salon_, where she had been sitting, +from the still untidy bedroom and called for Artémise. In a few +moments the widow of Henry Clairville came in sight at the top of the +staircase leading to the upper room, her bright black eyes dulled and +frightened and her hands trembling visibly, for was not Mlle. +Clairville her enemy, being not only a relative now by marriage but her +late mistress, tyrant and superior? But the certainty of leaving the +neighbourhood in a very few days put Pauline so much at her ease that +she could afford to show her brightest and most amiable side to her +sister-in-law, and thus she made a graceful if authoritative advance to +the bottom of the staircase and stretched forth both her white hands, +even going the length of imprinting a slow kiss on the other's sunburnt +cheek. Few could at any time have resisted the mingled charms of so +magnetic a personality, with something of the stage lingering in it, an +audacity, an impulsiveness, rare among great ladies, and it must be +remembered that in the limited society of St. Ignace, Miss Clairville +passed as a great lady, and was one indeed in all minor traits. Then +the touch of her skin was so soft, there always exhaled a delicate, +elusive, but sweet perfume from her clothes and hair, and even in her +mourning she had preserved the artistic touches necessary to please. +No wonder that the poor Artémise should burst into weak tears and cry +for pity and forgiveness as that soft kiss fell upon her cheek and +those proud hands grasped her own. + +"_Chut_!" cried Miss Clairville, drawing the other into the _salon_. +"I am not angry with you, child! If Henry made you his wife it was +very right of him and no one shall blame you nor complain. Only had I +known--ah, well, it might not have made so much difference after all. +You are going to be very comfortable here, Artémise, and I shall write +to you from time to time--oh, have no fear! regularly, my dear! And +Dr. Renaud and his Reverence are to see about selling Henry's books and +papers, and it is possible that they bring you a nice sum of money. +With that, there is one thing I should like you to do. Are you +listening to me, Artémise?" + +"_Bien_, mademoiselle," answered Artémise, through her sobs. "I +listen, I will do anything you say. I am sorry, ma'amselle. I should +not be here, I know; it is you who should be here, here at Clairville, +and be its mistress." + +Still secure in her ideas of impending ease and happiness, and unaware +of the course of tragic accident which was operating at that same +moment against her visions of release and freedom and depriving her of +the future she relied on, Pauline laughed musically at the notion. + +"Oh, that--for me? No, thank you, my dear. In any case I had done +with Clairville. If not marriage, then the stage. If not the +stage--and there were times when it wearied and disgusted me, with the +uneducated people one met and the vagaries of that man, Jean +Rochelle--then a paid situation somewhere. The last--very difficult +for me, a Clairville [and again she very nearly used the prefix, a +tardy endorsing of Henry's pet project], and with my peculiar needs. +To be sure, a religious house had offered me a good place, thanks to +Father Rielle, at a good figure for Canada, but there are other +countries, Artémise, there are other countries, and I am still young, +_n'est-ce-pas_?" + +"Mademoiselle will never be old. She has the air of a princess, the +complexion--_d'une vierge_!" + +Pauline was much amused and laughed once more with so thrilling a +cadence in her rich voice that the child in the basket-chair clapped +its hands and laughed too. + +"So now, Artémise, try and understand what I tell you, for I shall not +see you again before I leave, and these are my last wishes, to be +faithfully carried out. I know the world, my dear, and I have had many +trying, many sad experiences, and as you grow older, and I trust wiser, +you will begin to realize what a charge Angeel will be. Are you +attending, Artémise?" + +"_Oui, oui, ma'amselle_." + +"Very well. I have told Dr. Renaud to come and see you often and +advise you; he will be a kind of guardian for you both, and will attend +you, as he did Henry, free of charge. The debts in the village and at +Poussette's cannot possibly be paid, but I will speak to Maman +Archambault about the future. The sale of Henry's effects will bring +enough, I hope, to enable you to find, still through Dr. Renaud, some +kind teacher for Angeel, and I wish, I particularly wish that this +talent for drawing and painting shall be encouraged. Do you understand +me?" + +"_Oui, Ma'amselle_." Pauline's bright eye had transfixed the wandering +gaze of Artémise, who by almost superhuman efforts was trying to +collect her thoughts and remember all these directions. + +"She can never hope for companionship, nor--certainly not--for school +advantages, nor yet marriage; how then? She must amuse herself, fill +in the time, be always occupied. Maman Archambault and you will sew +for her, cook for her, and watch over her, and if at any time the money +comes to an end----Artémise, listen, I tell you! Collect your wits and +keep looking at me." For the girl's attention was clearly wandering +now to something outside the house. + +"_Oui, Mademoiselle, oui, oui._" + +Pauline stamped her foot in her annoyance. + +"The creature is not following what I say!" she exclaimed. +"Angeel--you can remember! You know what I have been saying. You are +to learn to draw, perhaps to paint, to make little pictures, +caricatures--oh, it will be so pleasant for you, and by and by people +will pay you to do this for them. See, _petite_, you must be very wise +for yourself, for the poor kind _maman_ cannot be wise for you." + +And Angeel's heavy head nodded sagely in swift discernment of this +evident truth, for Artémise was now tired of the subject and of +Pauline's endless farewells and preferred to look out of the window. + +Rare sight on a December day, the peacock was still pacing to and fro, +for the air was as mild and balmy as in June, and although the road ran +water and the trees were rapidly losing their icy trappings the +courtyard had been swept of snow and therefore remained almost dry. +The beauty of the glissade was over. But Artémise looked only for a +moment at the peacock. Along the road from the direction of the +village were advancing two men, Dr. Renaud and the priest; behind them, +a few steps, walked Martin, the Indian. They came near the stone +fence, they stopped, all three, and seemed to confer, studying from +time to time the front of the house. Absorbed in watching them, +Artémise listened no longer at all to Miss Clairville's pronouncements +and indeed very little was left to say. Pauline put on her gloves, +slung her muff around her neck and submitted to a frantic embrace from +the warm-hearted, lonely little girl, then turned to bid farewell to +the mother. + +"Two hours by my watch!" she cried gaily. "Which of us has been the +gossip, the chatterbox, eh, Artémise! _Eh! bien_, I wish you a very +sincere and a very long good-bye." Some emotion crept into her throat, +into her voice. The child was her brother's. This poor girl, the +mother, bore her own name, and she could not harden her heart entirely +against the ill-starred couple, and why should she! She was bidding +them both farewell, probably for ever, and the prospect so soothed her +that she ejaculated, "Poor children!" and wiped away a tear. + +"Take great care of yourself, Artémise, for Angeel's sake and mine, and +for the sake of the name you bear and the place it has held in the +country. But what are you looking at so intently? What is the matter +out there, Artémise?" + +At that instant the priest detached himself from the others and +entering the domain walked slowly up to the door and knocked. + +Pauline, not comprehending the nature of the visit, went herself and +opened to Father Rielle. His long face told her nothing--was it not +always long? The presence of Renaud and the guide, whom she also saw +in the background, told her nothing; their being there was perhaps only +a coincidence and they had not turned their faces as yet in her +direction. Precisely as Crabbe had met his fate without seeing it +arrive, although half an hour earlier he had foreseen death and prayed +against it, she faced the priest with a smiling countenance, her +tremors past, her conviction--that her lover was alive and well and +able to take her away that instant if necessary--quite unaltered. +Father Rielle had a difficult task to perform and he realized it. + +Twice he essayed to speak and twice he stammered only unmeaning words. +Pauline translated his incoherent and confused murmurs with +characteristic and vigorous conceit; she believed him so anxious to +make her a private farewell instead of a stereotyped adieu in public +that she thought he had walked out from St. Ignace on purpose. + +"It is all settled and therefore hopeless!" she began. "You cannot +interfere or change me now." + +The priest repeated the words after her. "Settled? Hopeless?" he +uttered in a furtive manner as if anxious to escape. + +"I mean my marriage," she went on gaily. "It has been discovered that +I am no longer, if I was ever, a good Catholic, and there is +consequently no hitch, no difficulty! I am supposed to be nothing at +all, so we shall be just married in the one church, his church, you +understand. And now you may absolve me, your Reverence, if you choose, +for the last time." + +"Mademoiselle," began the priest with a scared look at the bright face +above him, "it is of that I must speak. Mademoiselle, this marriage, +your marriage, it--it will not take place. It cannot take place." + +The brilliant eyes hardened, the barred gate stood out upon her +forehead. + +"You think because I am a Catholic----" + +"No, Mademoiselle, it has nothing to do with that. I came here to tell +you, I was sent--there is something you must be told, that you must +know--it is very difficult for me. Oh! Mademoiselle, I find it even +more difficult than I thought, I must have help, I must ask some one +else, I cannot--cannot." + +His voice broke, stopped. The other men, turning at last towards the +house, saw the priest's bowed head and Pauline's bright but angry face, +and Dr. Renaud at once came to Father Rielle's rescue. + +"Mademoiselle," he began, but Pauline, leaving the door open, rushed +down the walk and met him at the gate. Her hands were pressed upon her +bosom and her wild eyes sought his in alarm, for she knew now that +something had happened, that something was wrong, although the mental +picture of Crabbe lying dead or dying did not occur to her. She +figured instead, some quibble, some legal matter, a money strait, a +delay, but the doctor, quietly taking one of her hands in his, spoke as +tenderly as was possible for a man of his bearing. + +"Father Rielle is saddened, crushed. He cannot tell you, for he feels +it too much. I feel it, too, but I must be brave and put away these +feelings, this natural weakness. My dear lady, my dear Mademoiselle, +your friend, your _fiancé_, the man you were about to marry, has met +with a very bad accident." + +"A bad accident." + +"Yes, a very serious one. You must be prepared." + +"He has been killed? Then I know who did it--I know." + +"An accident, an accident only, mademoiselle, I assure you. But a very +serious one, as I have said." + +"Very serious? He--he--where is he? Take me to him. Oh! I knew +something would happen, I am not surprised, I am not surprised. But it +shall not prevent my seeing him, waiting on him. It shall not prevent +our marriage." + +The piteousness of her position softened the doctor's heart still +further; he kept hold of her hand and modulated his voice. + +"I am afraid it may. I am afraid you will have to prepare yourself for +a great shock. Martin here--found him." + +She did not yet understand. + +"Martin, I say, was the one who found it." + +The change of pronoun did not fully enlighten her. + +"But he is alive! Yes, of course he is alive, only badly hurt. Then +we can be married at once wherever he is. Any one can marry us--Father +Rielle will tell you that. If we both wish, and we both believe in +God, that is sufficient. Other things will not matter. Any one, any +one can marry us. Take me to him." + +Dr. Renaud, relinquishing her hand, stepped to the side of the priest +and was followed by Martin. Artémise, always curious and flighty, ran +out and overheard a word or two as the three men again conferred and +fled back to the house, shrieking as she went. + +"Dead! Dead! Another death! Within a week! You see I can count! +You see I can count! Dead, drowned, and all in a week!" + +The truth was now borne in upon Pauline, and she turned to meet the +united gaze of the three men, reading confirmation of the awful news in +their averted and sobered eyes. The shock told, her limbs shook, her +sight left her, her throat grew sore and dry, but she did not faint. + +"I am so cold," she said in English. And again in the same tongue. "I +feel so cold. Why is it?" + +Dr. Renaud hastened to her, supporting her with his arm. + +"You have guessed?" he said hurriedly. + +"I heard. Is it true?" + +"Dear mademoiselle, I regret to say, quite true. He was carried over +the Fall! there was no escape, no hope. Come, let me take you back to +the house for a moment where you may sit down." For she continued to +tremble so violently that presently she sank upon the low fence, still +pressing her hands over her heart. "Come, mademoiselle, let me take +you into the house." + +"Not that house! Not that house!" + +"Faith--I know of no other! You cannot remain here." + +"But I can go back, back to Poussette's." + +"You must drive or be driven then. You cannot walk." + +It was true. Pauline's breath was now very short, her articulation +difficult, her throat contracted and relaxed by turns. + +"It is true!" she gasped. "I cannot walk. I cannot even stand up. +Oh, Dr. Renaud, this is more than weakness or fright. I am very sick, +Doctor. Why cannot I stand up?" + +Renaud tore off his coat, the priest and Martin did the same. Folding +all three beside the fence where the snow was still thick and dry they +laid Miss Clairville down and watched her. Martin fetched brandy while +the entire Archambault family flocked out to see the sight, and stood +gaping and chattering until rebuked by Father Rielle. The doctor knelt +a long time at her side. Knowing her so well, he was secretly +astonished at the weakness she had shown and he dealt with her most +kindly. Tragedy had at last touched her too deeply; a latent tendency +of the heart to abnormal action had suddenly developed under pressure +of emotion and strain of shock, and he foresaw what she and the others +did not--a long and tedious illness with periods of alarming collapse +and weakness. For herself, so ill was she for the first time in her +active life, she thought more about her own condition than of her loss; +she imagined herself dying and following her lover on the same day to +the grave. The image of Ringfield too was absent from her thoughts, +which were now chiefly concentrated on her symptoms and sufferings. + +"Am I not very ill?" she asked presently, after a little of the brandy +had somewhat stilled the dreadful beating of her heart, the dreadful +booming in her ears. + +"Yes, mademoiselle. But you will recover." + +"I have never been sick before." + +"You are sure of that? Never had any nervous sensations, no tremors, +no palpitations?" + +"Ah, those! Yes, frequently, but I never thought much about them. +They were part of my life, my emotional life, and natural to me. Shall +I die?" + +"I think not, mademoiselle. I believe not, but you may be ill for a +while." + +"Ill! For how long?" + +"That I cannot tell you. You must have care and quiet, absolute quiet." + +Pauline said no more. The distress of heart and nerves came on again; +she moaned, being exceedingly troubled in spirit and her pallor was +great. + +"It is clear you must not remain out in the road any longer, +mademoiselle. You must be put to bed and have warmth and rest and some +kind woman to look after you. Ah! How we would welcome our good Mme. +Poussette now, but she has flown, she has flown. So it will be Mme. +Archambault perhaps, who knows all about sickness; has she not reared +thirteen of her own, or fourteen, I forget which? Come, mademoiselle, +we will lift you carefully. The door is open, the manor is hospitable +and warm, its kitchen and larder well stocked, its cellars overflowing. +Faith--you might do worse, and at Poussette's who would be there to +nurse you?" + +Pauline was too spent to utter the defiant objections that in health +she would have hurled at the speaker. Tragedy indeed had touched her +for once too deeply, and she submitted to be helped back into her old +home, the house made hateful by a thousand painful associations of an +unhappy youth, without uttering a single remonstrance. Some of her +native courage knocked timidly at her frightened heart, clamouring to +be reassured of days to come, of duties to be taken up, of life to be +lived, for over and above her sense of cruel frustration and +bereavement she dreaded death, not caring to die. The closing of the +episode in which the guide figured so prominently appalled and +stupefied her, yet her inherent vitality sprang up, already trying to +assert itself. + +"What a position is mine!" she thought, when a slight return of +strength enabled her, leaning on the doctor's arm, to reach the room so +long occupied by her brother. But her lips said nothing. There was no +other place to put her; the salon did not contain a sofa, she could not +be lodged with Artémise or Angeel, and meanwhile her weakness increased +till she asked herself to be put to bed. Maman Archambault was sent +for and in a few moments Pauline was lying on the lumpy tattered +mattress which had served Henry Clairville for his last couch. + +The course of tragic accident had brought her to this, and could she +have foreseen the long, long weary time, first of illness, then of +convalescence, and finally a physical change so marked as to unfit her +for all but a narrow domestic life, it is likely that with her fierce +and impatient temper she might have been tempted to end her existence. +As one for whom the quest of happiness was ended as far as a prosperous +marriage and removal from St. Ignace were involved, she now depended on +herself again, and bitterly as she might mourn and lament the +disappointment and chagrin which in a moment had permanently saddened +her future, her grief and mortification would have been bitterer still +could she have foreseen the long nights of half-delirious insomnia, the +days of utter apathy and uselessness which stretched blankly before her. + +Later that night, when she had tried to compose herself to sleep but +without success, she called Maman Archambault into the room. + +"Give me a light--for the love of God, a light!" she wailed, sitting up +with all her dark hair pouring over the bed. "How dare you leave me +without a light and I so ill!" + +"But the doctor said----" + +"What do I care what he said! In this room, in the dark, are all sorts +of creatures, I hear them! Henry is here, or his ghost, and the +Poussette woman is here, singing her silly songs, and rats are here, +and cats, and worse things, moving and crawling all over me, in the +walls, everywhere!" + +The old woman set the lamp on the table. She was very angry. + +"It is not so, mademoiselle. The room was cleaned. Maybe a ghost, +_n'sais pas_. Maybe a cat or two. Yes, there's the white one now +under your bed and her kittens! I'll drive them out." + +Miss Clairville sank back and watched. So had her brother lain. So +had the cats lain under the bed during his sickness. Maman Archambault +went out to her _paillasse_ in the hall, the night wore on, but without +sleep for Pauline, and towards morning so intense were her sufferings +that a messenger was sent for Dr. Renaud, who came as requested and was +destined to come again and again for many a weary month. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + +THE QUEST OF HAPPINESS + + "Ye wish for act and circumstance, that make + The individual known and understood; + And such as my best judgment could select + From what the place afforded, have been given." + + +The consistency of character or rather the defect of that virtue which +had perhaps caused the aberration under which Ringfield had very nearly +committed a crime without being, as we say, a depraved or vicious +member of society, helped after the melancholy dénoûment of Crabbe's +sudden death to determine a line of conduct for the future. His mind, +restored to its natural bent, the study of the soul of man and its +relation to the spiritual world, no longer dwelt on Miss Clairville nor +on any other worldly matter, and therefore his next and as it proved +final move was not so peculiar as seemed at first sight; he chose to +enter a religious house and end his days there, as in the heat of +remorseful and involuntary confession he had told Father Rielle. There +was no chance for this last act of abnegation in his own community, +hence the attention he now began to give to the personality and +conversation of the priest, and hence the ultimate triumph of the +Catholic Church. He still loved his own Church, but what was there for +him within her narrow boundaries in the future? That Church said: "You +must be good even if you are narrow, you must practise holiness, you +must stand daily in the fierce light of secular criticism, and you know +you shall be found wanting," and at the voice he quailed, feeling his +weakness. Then it was that Rome claimed him, showing him her unique +position among the Churches. Never allowing or fostering modern doubt, +immune against innovation, with myriad and labyrinthine channels of +work for the different temperaments that entered within her gates, she +presented at that time the spectacle of the only Church not divided +against herself, and Ringfield suddenly yearned towards the cloister, +the cross, the strange, hooded, cloaked men, the pale and grave, or +red-cheeked merry nuns, the rich symbolism of even the simplest +service, and he longed to hurl himself from the outside world to that +beckoning world of monks and monastic quiet. As a Methodist, there was +then no possible opening of the kind he wished for, whatever there may +be at a later day, when hardly any religious body keeps itself to +itself but is daily invaded by efforts and struggles, apings after +something coveted and difficult of attainment, and when the term +evangelical is a word signifying the loosening of all proper bonds and +the admission of dangerous degrees and shades of doubtful moral +unsteadfastness. + +He felt an inward shame, a daily humiliation, when he considered his +position; he had disgraced his own Church--would any other Church then +receive him? Finally he sought the priest. + +"If I am proved unworthy of the ministrations of the Church I was born +and brought up in, am I not unworthy of yours? What is to become of +me, for a God and a Church and a hiding-place I must have?" + +And Father Rielle answered quietly:-- + +"There is no difficulty, my son. The sin, if sin it was, is past, and +even if it were not, if it still lingered in you, we would take you in +and help and restore you. We refuse no man, no woman; we do not +question, we do not talk, we make no guesses, we are not curious. We +will take you as we have taken, as our Church has taken, thousands of +others--for the present and for the future--caring nothing for the +past. We recognize that all men are not alike. Some will still +preach, and you were one of these, but you will soon be content to +preach no longer; for such as you it is but a weariness of the flesh, a +disturber, a tempter. Others will still do parish work, like myself; +regular work among the people that does not show, more or less +successful, more or less uneventful. Others will pass in behind the +high walls of a monastery and lead the ordered life prescribed for +them; you are to be one of these and I foresee you gaining in +self-restraint, calm, and growing in spiritual insight as you +voluntarily forsake all worldly ties and sympathies and disappear from +men for ever." + +Ringfield moved uneasily. It seemed as if the priest took things too +much for granted. + +"How can I tell?" he faltered. "It attracts me, it moves before me +night and day; the quiet hours told off by bells--are they not?" + +"Yes, my brother." + +"The cowled men working in the garden, at graves, I have heard. Is it +not so?" + +"Yes, yes, and at other things," said the priest indulgently. + +"The prayers, said kneeling on the cold floors, the precision and +solemnity of it all, the absence of all distractions. Oh, there surely +I shall find rest unto my soul;--only if I joined, and found I could +not stay, if the world again called me!" + +Father Rielle closed his eyes and yawned with an indescribable air of +mastery and insolence. + +"There would always be your oath, my son. Do not forget that." + +"My oath! An oath!" + +"Certainly. There will be preparation necessary for many days before +you can enter. But once a member, a sworn member of that community (I +am thinking of our brothers at Oka), you have done with the world. You +know the world no longer. It cannot call you." + +"But if it did----" + +"I say it cannot." + +"But I might burst my bonds and seek it!" + +"You might, but I do not think you will. Our Church can be loving and +restful and harmonious and beautiful (thus the jargon of the heretic) +but it can also be masterful and tyrannical and terrible, even cruel, +so they say, although I do not go that far myself. And the call of it, +the memory of it, the significance of it, the power and majesty and +awfulness of it will draw you back. Oh! Have no fear, monsieur! If I +may charge myself with your conversion I will stake a great deal, a +very great deal indeed, on the chances of your absolute and final +surrender, with even temporary reversion an impossibility. You will +decide quickly then, monsieur, although we do not ask for haste. We +can wait." + +And with emphasis in his thrilling voice the priest murmured again: +"The Church of Rome can always wait." + +This statement and the other predictions concerning Ringfield were +verified in course of time, for without seeing Pauline again he made +instant preparation for the solemn and extraordinary step which closed +his career in the world as we know it. Poor Pauline! The promise +given to Henry Clairville on his death-bed was kept, it is needless to +say, but only half kept, as she did not admit the child to her +confidence, nor show it affection, and only kept at all because she +could not help herself. Very gradually her strength returned after +nearly two years of invalidism, and then the streaks of grey in her +hair, her altered figure and expression, told part of her story to +those who thought they knew all. Who at St. Ignace could enter into +her feelings or offer her consolation? + +"No one could be sorrier than I am for doing the young lady an +injustice," was the loudly expressed opinion of Enderby. "Not but what +there was grounds. There is, they tell me, often a more striking +likeness between cousins, aunts, and such, than between mother and +daughter and father and son. What I done any one might have done, and +what I said I've long ago took back." + +These remarks were made with characteristic magnanimity at the annual +Hawthorne festival, a couple of years after the picnic tea at which +Ringfield had assisted; held this year on 20th October, a warm sun +flooded the valley, the women wore their lightest dresses, and Mrs. +Abercorn was particularly gay in a flowered muslin, dating from the +time of William the Fourth, with _honi soit qui mal y pense_ on a blue +ribbon worked into the design of the material; a garden hat was tied +under her chin and a fur cape lay over her shoulders. No one was +present from St. Ignace, but a good deal of talk might have been heard +which signified that Miss Clairville was still the interesting central +figure of the neighbourhood. + +"She spends very little time, they tell me, with the child yonder, +although it is her brother's own. The child sits in one room and her +aunt in another; one draws pictures of every mortal thing, and some +things not mortal, and the other looks out of window and rarely speaks. +'Tis a sad sight, they say, that members of one family are thus as far +removed in feeling and ways of talking as--as----" the speaker paused +in perplexity, vainly searching for a suitable and sufficiently strong +simile. + +"What can ye expect, ma'am?" said Enderby loftily, with his habitual +consideration for the aristocracy. "Miss Clairville has been cruelly +treated. Her brother to marry, to marry, look you, ma'am, with one of +a menial family--'twas hard on one by nature so genteel, and the manner +of her long sickness was not to be wondered at; had she only gone +through the form of marriage with the one her heart was interested in +and then lost him the next moment; I think I may say, without fear of +exaggeration, she would then have had something to live for; she could +have claimed his money. But no marriage, no man, no money--and in +place of it all, sickness and poverty and the care of the unwelcome +child--why, I've never known a harder thing!" + +Crabbe's expectations had often been referred to among the villagers +and had grown to astonishing dimensions in the minds of the simple, but +the idea of Miss Clairville's share in them was new and afforded plenty +of material for conjecture. + +"Though what a lone thing like her would have done with all that money, +I cannot think!" said Mrs. Enderby, who in company with Mrs. Abercorn +had always harboured a suspicious and jealous dislike of the handsome +and dashing Pauline. + +"Cannot think!" echoed her husband. "Why, them's the ones to know what +to do with any power of money coming to them. I'll warrant she has had +plans enough, to keep the old place up, maybe, to dress herself and +travel to foreign lands and never act no more. That would all take +money, bless ye! Before I settled here, as some of ye know, I kept +butcher shop in Blandville, a bigger place far, than this, all English +and all so pleasant too, so--so equalizing like, that when parties did +run into debt (and some were pretty deep in my books) you could almost +forgive it to them, they were so plausible and polite about it. Eighty +dollars a month was what one family took out in the best meats +procurable and 'ow could you refuse it, knowing they were not going to +run away owing it! 'Some day, Mr. Enderby,' they would say, 'you shall +have it. You shall 'ave it, sir, some day.'" + +"And did you ever get it?" said a thin woman, the Hawthorne milliner, +edging to the front of the group in some anxiety. "Did you?" + +"I did, ma'am. They owned considerable property round about there, and +when they wanted anything they would sell off a little, piece by piece. +Just as they needed things they sold it, and by and by they came to me +and my little account was paid off--honourable." + +"All at once?" said the anxious woman, and Enderby nodded. + +"What a state of things though!" remarked his wife. "I remember it +quite distinctly. When they wanted to give a party they would sell off +a piece of land, or when they needed a new carpet. 'Twould make me so +nervous like." + +"So it would me," said the milliner, "so it would me." + +"Because you were not born to it. It's what you must expect from the +gentry." + +"Gentry? There's not many around here, but I recognize them when I +meet them and the lady at the Manor House is one of them and I'm sorry +for her, ma'am, in her disappointment and sickness." + +"Who is that you are sorry for, Enderby?" said Mrs. Abercorn shrilly, +having caught some of his remarks. "And how do you come to be talking +about gentry of all things! My good man, if you are alluding to Miss +Clairville, let me tell you she got just what she deserved." + +And directly a chorus arose, chiefly from the feminine voices present: +"Just what she deserved. She got just what she deserved." + +The state of affairs at Clairville was much as described; Pauline, +during her long, dreary convalescence, gave no sign of temper or of +suffering, but had apparently changed to a listless, weak, silent +creature, occupied almost altogether with her own thoughts, by turns +ignoring and passively tolerating her sister-in-law and the child. The +latter grew brighter and stronger every day, and Dr. Renaud was of the +opinion that she would live to womanhood and become physically fit in +many ways, although retaining her deformity, and even achieve some +professional success, as her talent for the pencil was of unusual +order. Sadie Cordova and her children were firmly established at +Poussette's, and this chronicle would be incomplete without a glance at +the future of the good-hearted couple. Poussette, who had never meant +any harm either in the case of Miss Clairville or Miss Cordova, +appeared to be considerably impressed by the events of a certain +winter, and after the arrival of Maisie and Jack treated them as his +own and gave up the idea of a divorce. The pranks and escapades of two +irresponsible, spoilt and active children kept him on the look-out a +good deal of his time, and before very long he had decided that +children after all were occasionally in the way, and like other good +things on this earth, best had in moderation. Still, he never failed +to treat them with all kindness, and towards their mother he remained +to the last, upon hearing her story of two cruel husbands, one of whom +might claim her any day, the very pattern of chivalrous honour. Who +shall pronounce the final word as to happiness--the quest of it, the +failure to find it, the rapture with which it sometimes announces +itself attained! This is no morbid tale, after all, although we may +have lingered at times over scenes neither pleasant nor cheerful, for +behold!--Mme. Poussette is happy, in her hospital: Dr. Renaud is happy +among his patients; Angeel is deliriously happy, with her crayons and +paper; all the Archambaults are happy; Maisie and Jack, Poussette and +Miss Cordova are all happy, happy in their rude health, with plenty of +good food, fun and excitement; even Father Rielle is happy, in his +work, having conquered his passion for Miss Clairville, and perhaps +when a few years have flown and her health is restored the dweller +against her will in the gloomy house of her fathers will emerge from +her torpor and engage in some active work that will afford her restless +spirit a measure of happiness. Often she cries in the dead of night:-- + +"Have I deserved this? Have I done wrong that I am punished like +this?" and she answers herself, saying: "Yes, I did wrong, although not +so wrong as others, and therefore am I punished." No other answer ever +occurs to her, and all she knows is that she must work out her fate as +best she can and try and be kinder to the child. + +And Ringfield--is he happy, behind his high wall, listening for the +solemn bell, kneeling on the cold floor, sleeping on the hard bed, +working in the quiet garden? No one knows, for where he entered we do +not enter, and if we did we should not be able to distinguish him from +his brother monks, all clad alike, all silent, all concentrated on the +duty of the moment. + +The Church of Rome has him and she will keep him--we may be sure of +that. _Ainsi soit-il_. + + + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Ringfield, by Susie Frances Harrison + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RINGFIELD *** + +***** This file should be named 26768-8.txt or 26768-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/6/7/6/26768/ + +Produced by Al Haines + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/26768-8.zip b/26768-8.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..9ae8825 --- /dev/null +++ b/26768-8.zip diff --git a/26768.txt b/26768.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e2a2e60 --- /dev/null +++ b/26768.txt @@ -0,0 +1,10860 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Ringfield, by Susie Frances Harrison + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Ringfield + A Novel + +Author: Susie Frances Harrison + +Release Date: October 3, 2008 [EBook #26768] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RINGFIELD *** + + + + +Produced by Al Haines + + + + + + + + + + +RINGFIELD + +A NOVEL + + +BY + +S. F. HARRISON, + +"SERANUS" + + +[Transcriber's note: Author's full name is Susie Frances Harrison] + + +AUTHOR OF "THE FOREST OF BOURG-MARIE," "PINE, ROSE AND FLEURE DE LIS," +"CROWDED OUT, AND OTHER SKETCHES," "THE CANADIAN BIRTHDAY BOOK," ETC. + + + + + +TORONTO + +THE MUSSON BOOK COMPANY, LIMITED + +1914 + + + + +CONTENTS + + + CHAPTER I + THE HOLY WATERS + + CHAPTER II + THE WHITE PEACOCK + + CHAPTER III + THE MAN IN THE CHAIR + + CHAPTER IV + THE HOUSE OF CLAIRVILLE + + CHAPTER V + THE UNSEEN HAND + + CHAPTER VI + THE MISSIONARY + + CHAPTER VII + THE OXFORD MAN + + CHAPTER VIII + THE "PIC" + + CHAPTER IX + PAULINE + + CHAPTER X + THE PICNIC + + CHAPTER XI + "ANGEEL" + + CHAPTER XII + THE HEART OF POUSSETTE + + CHAPTER XIII + A SICK SEIGNEUR + + CHAPTER XIV + FATHER RIELLE + + CHAPTER XV + THE STORM + + CHAPTER XVI + IN THE BARN + + CHAPTER XVII + REVELRY BY NIGHT + + CHAPTER XVIII + A CONCERT DE LUXE + + CHAPTER XIX + REHABILITATION + + CHAPTER XX + A RURAL AUTOCRAT + + CHAPTER XXI + THE NATURAL MAN + + CHAPTER XXII + THE TROUSSEAU OF PAULINE + + CHAPTER XXIII + THE SEIGNEUR PASSES + + CHAPTER XXIV + RELAPSE + + CHAPTER XXV + THE TROUSSEAU AGAIN + + CHAPTER XXVI + THE GLISSADE + + CHAPTER XXVII + THE CARPET BAG + + CHAPTER XXVIII + THE HAVEN + + CHAPTER XXIX + THE WILL OF GOD + + CHAPTER XXX + THE QUEST OF HAPPINESS + + + + +CHAPTER I + +THE HOLY WATERS + + "...... the sounding cataract + Haunted me like a passion." + + +In a country of cascades, a land of magnificent waterfalls, that watery +hemisphere which holds Niagara and reveals to those who care to travel +so far north the unhackneyed splendours of the Labrador, the noble fall +of St. Ignace, though only second or third in size, must ever rank +first in all that makes for majestic and perfect beauty. + +It is not alone the wondrous sweep and curve of tumbling brown water +that descends by three horseshoe ledges to a swirl of sparkling spray. +It is not alone the great volume of the dark river above sent over, +thrust down, nor the height from which the olive is hurled to the white +below. So, too, plunge and sweep other falls--the Grand Loup in +Terrebonne, the Petit Loup in Joliette, the Pleureuse, the Grand +Lorette, the Tuque, the big and little Shawenigan, the half-dozen or so +"Chaudiere," the Montmorenci or La Vache, but none of these can equal +the St. Ignace in point of dignified, unspoilt approach and picturesque +surroundings. For a mile above the cataract the river runs, an inky +ribbon, between banks of amazing solitariness; no clearing is there, no +sign of human habitation, hardly any vestige of animal life. The trees +stand thick along the edges, are thick towards the high rocky +table-land that lies on either side; it is, in short, a river flowing +through a forest. And when it drops, it drops to meet the same +impassable wooded banks; it is now a cataract in a forest. Rocks are +turbulently heaped upon one hand; upon the other, the three great +ledges meet the shock of the descending waters and define the leap by +boldly curved thick masses of olive, topaz, and greenish jelly. Where +it is brown, it is nearest the rocky bed; where olive, more water is +going over; and where green, it is so solid that twice a yard measure +alone will penetrate the reach of rock beneath. The white of its +flowing spray is whiter than the summer cloud, and the dark green of +the pines framing it, shows often black against the summer blue. Its +voice--roar as of wind or steady thunder--calling always--has silenced +other voices. Birds do not build, nor squirrels climb too near that +deep reverberating note, although the blue heron, fearless, frequently +stands in summer on the spray-washed rock and seems to listen. Below +the filmy smoke of rainbowed arches there is quiet black water, with +circles, oily, ominous, moving stealthily along, and below these--a +quarter of a mile down--the rapids, swift, impetuous, flashing, +ushering in the latter half of the St. Ignace, here at last the river +of life and motion, bearing stout booms of great chained logs, with +grassy clearings and little settlements at each side, curving into +lilied bays, or breaking musically upon yellow beaches, a River of Life +indeed, and no longer a river of Death and Negation! + +For in the countryside, the _paroisse_ of Juchereau de St. Ignace, the +upper part or inky ribbon of the river was frequently called by that +gloomy name; a Saguenay in miniature, icy cold, black, solitary, +silent, River of Death, who shall live in sight of your blackness? Who +may sing aloud at his toil, whether he dig, or plant, or plough, or +trap, or fish? Beautiful though the grand sweep and headlong rush of +the fall, the people of the settlement avoid its sombre majesty and +farms were none and smaller clearings few along the upper St. Ignace. +A quarter of a mile back from the fall lay the village, holding a +cluster of poor houses, a shop or two, a blacksmith's forge, a large +and well-conducted summer hotel patronized for the fishing, a sawmill, +depending for power on the Riviere Bois Clair, a brighter, gayer stream +than the St. Ignace, and lastly a magnificent stone church capable of +containing 1500 people, with a Presbytere attached and quarters for +some Recollet brothers. + +Such was and is still, doubtless, with a few modifications, the hamlet +of St. Ignace, fair type of the primitive Lower Canadian settlement, +dominated by the church, its twin spires recalling the towers of Notre +Dame, its tin roof shining like silver, the abode of contented +ignorance and pious conservatism, the home of those who are best +described as a patient peasantry earning a monotonous but steady +livelihood, far removed from all understanding of society or the State +as a whole. With each other, with Nature, and with the Church they had +to do--and thought it enough to keep the peace with all three. + +Yet change was in the air, destiny or fate inevitable. The moving on +process or progressive spirit was about to infect the obscure, remote, +ignorant, contented little _paroisse_ of Juchereau de St. Ignace when +one April morning there stood upon the edge of rock nearest the great +fall, still partly frozen into stiff angular masses, two men of +entirely different aspects, tastes, and habits, yet both strongly +agreed upon one essential point, the importance of religion, and, more +particularly, the kind of religion practised and set forth by the +Methodist Church. + +The elder was Monsieur Amable Poussette, owner of the sawmill at Bois +Clair and proprietor of the summer hotel, a French Canadian by birth +and descent and in appearance, but in clothes, opinions, and religious +belief a curious medley of American and Canadian standards. +Notwithstanding the variety of his occupations, one of which was +supposed to debar him from joining the Methodist Church, he was an +ardent member of that community. The younger man was a Methodist +preacher, working as yet on the missionary circuit, and to him M. +Poussette was holding forth with round black eyes rolling at the +landscape and with gestures inimitably French. + +"See, now," he was saying, standing perilously near the wet edge of +rock, "there is no difficult thing! I own the ground. I give the +money. I have it to give. My friend Romeo Desnoyers, of Three Rivers, +he shall come at this place, at this point, and build the church. It +will be for a great convenience, a great success. My guests, they will +attend. I myself will see to that. I shall drive them over." + +The younger man smiled faintly. It was necessary at times to restrain +M. Poussette. He pulled him back now, but gently, from the slippery +rock. + +"In the summer--yes, of course, I see that. I see that it is needed +then. The rest of the year----" + +"The rest of the year! Bigosh--_excusez_,--I tell you, it is needed +_all_ the year round. Look at that big ugly barn full of bad +pictures--yes, sir, I went to Mass regular, when I was a boy--_petit +garcon_--well, every one was the same, sure. But now, ah!--excuse +_me_. A seegar? Yes? You will thry one?" + +The minister declined, but M. Poussette lit one of a large and +overfragrant variety, while he frowned at the fall, rolled his large +eyes around again and finally led the way through thick underbrush and +across fallen logs to the deeply-rutted highroad where a horse and +_caleche_ awaited them. The prospective church builder took a long +last look and then said:-- + +"And you--you shall preach the first sermon. How long does it take to +build nice church, nice pretty Methodist church--not like that big +stone barn I used to go to Mass in?" + +At this the Reverend Joshua Ringfield did more than smile. He threw +back his fine head and laughed heartily. + +"Oh--Poussette!" he cried; "you're the funniest fellow, the funniest +man alive! Ask somebody else how long it takes to build any kind of +church--how should I know! But if you're in earnest, and I admire you +for it if you are, and I wish there were more like you, I'll come and +do the preaching with pleasure. You'll require a bigger man than I am, +I'm afraid though." + +"No, no," pronounced Poussette with fierce and friendly emphasis, +driving away at a reckless pace. "See now, this is it. This is my +affair. It will be my church, and my friend, Mister Romeo Desnoyers of +Three Rivers, shall build it. Bigosh--_excusez_; I'll have only +friends in it; you're my friend, I am good Methodist since I hear you +preach, and Goddam,--well, _excusez_ again, sir, I'll have you and no +other. We'll say July, and you will have one, two, three months to get +the sermon ready. Get on there, _m'rch donc, animal-l-l_! I am too +long away from my business." + +Ringfield, who was right in supposing that his friend and patron had +tasted of the "viskey blanc" before starting, refrained from any +criticism of the scheme, promising his services merely, should they be +required, and that evening saw him depart for the west to attend a +course of lectures at a theological college. Before many hours the +tumbling, foaming Fall, the lonely river, the Bois Clair settlement and +Poussette were almost forgotten. A camping trip with friendly +Ontarians succeeded the lectures, then ensued a fortnight of hard +reading and preparation for the essay or thesis which his Church +demanded from him as token of his standing and progress, he being as +yet a probationer, and thus the summer passed by until on the 6th of +August a letter reached him from the Lower Province bidding him attend +at the opening services of the new Methodist church recently built at +St. Ignace through the enterprise and liberality of M. Amable +Poussette. The letter, in Canadian French, had an English postscript; +"I pay all expense. Me, Amable Poussette, of Juchereau de St. Ignace." + +Ringfield put the letter away with a frown. He was busy, in demand, +ambitious. Born in one of the Maritime Provinces, he owed all he was +to Ontario, and now--Ontario claimed him. Return he might some day to +the rapid rivers, the lonely hills, the great forests and the remote +villages, but not now. Now, just as he was beginning to fill his +place, to feel his power, to live and work, and above all preach, a man +among men, a man for men, he resented any interruption in his plan of +existence, in his scheme of self-consecration. The big bustling cities +of Western Ontario and of the State of Ohio, where some of his holidays +had been spent, were very far away from the hamlet of Juchereau de St. +Ignace, a mere handful of souls--yes, Souls, and here Ringfield stopped +and reconsidered. After all, there was his word, and Poussette, though +rough, was not a bad fellow. It would take, say, three or four days +out of his last week of recreation, but still, he was engaged, +earnestly and sincerely engaged in the work of bringing souls to +Christ, and, no small thing, his expenses would be paid. The better +counsel, as it seemed, prevailed, and he went east the next night. + +Meanwhile the energetic Poussette, mill owner of Bois Clair, rich man +and patron of the countryside, had put his plan into execution, and in +the space of three months a tract of rocky ground on the north side of +the Fall had been cleared and a neat, convenient church erected from +the native woods, furnished with benches, a table and chair for the +minister, and a harmonium. St. Ignace was quite excited, for the thing +seemed pure imbecility to the French, who were to a man true Catholics, +but Poussette stoutly asserted his belief that before long conversions +to Methodism would be numerous and for the present there were his +"guests," a couple of families from Beaulac, the foreman of the +mill--_voila un congregation tres distingue_! Much, too, would depend +upon the choice of a preacher, and Poussette was cherishing the hope +that some inducement might be held out to retain Ringfield in their +midst. + +Of this the younger man was at first ignorant. Impatience at detention +in such a place warred with strict conceptions of duty, yet his +excellent training in subservience to his Church and a ready gift of +oratory assisted him in a decision to do the best he could for the new +_paroisse_, heretofore so distinctively Catholic, of Juchereau de St. +Ignace. That M. Poussette's congregation was more _distingue_ than +numerous did not for a moment affect the preacher on the warm, rainy +Sunday when he stood within sound of the great Fall and read from the +forty-seventh chapter of the Prophet Ezekiel. Romeo Desnoyers, thin, +keen, professional looking; Poussette and his wife, the latter an +anaemic, slightly demented person who spoke no English; Mr. Patrick +Maccartie, foreman of the mill, who likewise was ignorant of English, +despite his name, and the Methodist contingent from Beaulac were +planted along the front seats at markedly wide intervals, for Poussette +had erected his church on a most generous scale. Summer visitors of +all denominations trickled in out of the moist forest arcades, so that +when Ringfield rose to conduct the service he was facing seventy or +eighty people, far more than he or the architect had expected to see, +although doubtless inferior in numbers to the great throngs existing in +the imagination of M. Poussette. + +The opening hymn and prayer over, the young man took his Bible and read +in natural colloquial tones but with considerable emphasis as follows:-- + +"Afterward he brought me again unto the door of the house; and, behold, +waters issued out from under the threshold of the house eastward: for +the fore-front of the house stood towards the east, and the waters came +down from under, from the right side of the house, at the south side of +the altar". + +A slight pause was here made by the reader and caused a rustling in the +porch to be the more distinctly heard, as a late comer, a lady, +evidently afraid of the weather because of cloak and veil, moved to a +seat near the door and sat down. The reader, seeing only a female +figure merge itself in the congregation, resumed. + +"Then brought he me out of the way of the gate northward, and led me +about the way without unto the outer gate by the way that looketh +eastward; and behold, there ran out waters on the right side." + +Again there was that slight pause, and again, too, a rustling as of +silken feminine garments. Ringfield caught Poussette's eye, but it was +somewhat vacant; evidently the analogy of the picture was lost upon him. + +"And when the man that had the line in his hand went forth eastward, he +measured a thousand cubits and he brought me through the waters; the +waters were to the ankles. Again he measured a thousand, and brought +me through the waters; the waters were to the knees. Again he measured +a thousand, and brought me through; the waters were to the loins. +Afterward he measured a thousand; and it was a River that I could not +pass over: for the waters were risen, waters to swim in, a River that +could not be passed over. And he said unto me, Son of man, hast thou +seen this? Then he brought me, and caused me to return to the brink of +the river." + +With the climactic force and aptness of the description his voice had +grown louder till it completely filled the building. His fine head +erect, his steady passionless blue-gray eyes fastened more on the dark +sopping cedars outside the window than upon the people in front, his +large but as yet undeveloped frame denoting strength, vigour, rude +health--all testified to his unsullied manhood, to the perfection of +sane mind in pure body which it was his highest joy and duty to retain. + +There is an asceticism among Methodists of his class which does not +differ greatly from that enforced by other religious orders. Thus +Ringfield, handsome, healthy, with pulsing vitality, active senses and +strong magnetic personality, was consecrated to preaching and to what +was called "leading souls to Christ" as much as any severe, +wedded-to-silence, befrocked and tonsured priest. And over and beyond +this self-consecration there was the pleasure involved in fulfilling +his mission, and herein perhaps he differed from the conventional and +perfunctory Roman. The sound of his own voice, the knowledge that he +was bound to interest, to convince, even to convert, the very attitude +in which he stood, with chest inflated, head thrown back, hand +uplifted, all these things delighted him, communicated to his lively +sentient side many delightful and varying sensations. As the _prima +donna_ among women so is the popular preacher among men. + +"Now, when I had returned, behold, at the bank of the river were very +many trees on the one side and on the other. Then said he unto me, ... +everything that liveth, which moveth, whithersoever the rivers shall +come, shall live; and there shall be a very great multitude of fish, +... And it shall come to pass, that the fishers shall stand upon it +... they shall be a place to spread forth nets: their fish shall be +according to their kinds, exceeding many.... And by the river, upon +the bank ... shall grow all trees for meat, whose leaves shall not +fade, ... because their waters they issued out of the sanctuary; and +the fruit thereof shall be for meat, and the leaf thereof for a +medicine." + +This concluded the customary reading of a portion of Scripture, but +when the second hymn had been sung and the preacher began his sermon he +asked the congregation to let their minds revert for a moment to that +Vision of the Holy Waters which he was about to take as a text. Yet, +although throughout the sometimes flowery, sometimes didactic, but +always eloquent address which followed, more than one present looked +for a reference to the landscape outside, so markedly similar to that +pictured by the prophet, nothing of the kind occurred. The four +thousand years of religious growth, the spread of Gospel knowledge and +counsel, the healing qualities of the Stream of Salvation flowing down +the ages through a dark world of sin and affliction, the medicine for +the soul of man and the spiritual food for his spiritual nature--these +were the thoughts so warmly sketched and the lessons so skilfully drawn +from the passage in question. + +At the conclusion of the service, Ringfield was moving out quietly +behind the others, with that sense of slight collapse upon him which +frequently follows oratorical efforts, when Poussette and the +architect, Desnoyers, turned back and shook hands with him. + +Madame Poussette, standing irresolutely near the door, weak, +vacant-eyed, badly dressed, was staring at another woman, the veiled +and cloaked figure who had rustled in during the reading of Scripture, +but the veil was lifted now and the cloak hanging over her arm. The +face and form were undoubtedly those of a most attractive, youthful and +well-dressed person, in fine, a lady, and Ringfield at once recollected +her presence in the congregation. So mutual was their recognition, +that, accustomed to being sought in this manner, he was about to +inquire if she wished to speak with him, when Poussette came between +them, taking his wife's arm, and the opportunity was lost. In a few +moments they were driving along the road to Bois Clair, and the young +minister, looking back, could discern no trace of the lady. So little +did he connect her with the remote wildness of the place, so different +did she appear even in a moment's glimpse from the natives and visitors +alike, who had made up the morning assembly, that he did not ask M. +Poussette for any information. As for the latter, no achievement had +ever put him into such good humour with himself as the building of the +new church; and the Sunday dinner at which M. Romeo Desnoyers and the +Rev. Joshua Ringfield were guests of honour, was eaten with the utmost +relish and hilarity. Cabbage soup, the French Canadian staple; young +Beauport ducks, dressed plentifully with onions; deep pies in earthern +bowls containing jointed chickens and liver cut in shapes; apples and +pears baked in the oven with wine and cream; good butter, better bread, +and indifferent ice cream, _creme d'office_, made up one of the +characteristic meals for which "Poussette's" was famous, and it need +not detract from Ringfield's high mental capacities to state that +having partaken of this typical and satisfying fare, he was compelled, +when he could escape the importunities of his French friends, to walk +away by himself along the muddy highroad for the benefit of his health. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE WHITE PEACOCK + + "Nor shall the aerial powers + Dissolve that beauty--destined to endure + White, radiant, spotless, exquisitely pure, + Thro' all vicissitudes." + + +Rocky slabs and mounds of Laurentian gneiss, forest trees and a young +wood interspersed with mats of juniper constituted the chief scenic +attraction in the vicinity of the Fall, so that it might truly be said, +all roads at St. Ignace lead to the Fall--it was so much more directly +beautiful. But Ringfield from choice walked away from the river and +struck inland by a miry sloppy path which was nevertheless beautiful +too, bordered by splendid ferns, mossy trunks upholding miniature pines +in their rich brown crevices, plants of aromatic teaberry, and at +intervals shallow golden pools where the wild white arum bloomed +alongside the pinkish purple of other water flowers. + +His thoughts were not, however, upon all the lovely detail at his feet, +for just at present he found himself more interesting than the +landscape. A very unusual thing had occurred. Poussette, during the +drive home, had anticipated a more serious proposal on the morrow by +asking him briefly and to the point whether he would remain in the +Province, at St. Ignace in fact, and become pastor of the new church. +The small stipend which in all probability the Methodist Church would +cheerfully pay was to be augmented by Poussette's own gift. Not +content with presenting his favourite denomination with a building out +of debt and ready for use, he proposed also to equip it with a pastor +after his own heart, for he combined thoroughness with an impulsive +nature in a manner peculiar to himself. This Poussette was indeed a +character, an original. Very fat and with every indication of becoming +fatter still, fond of tweed suits and white waistcoats, and quick at +picking up English in a locality where the tongue was not prominent, he +owed much of his progressive spirit to the teachings of a certain +French Canadian named Magloire le Caron, born in the county of +Yamachiche but latterly an American citizen. This Magloire or Murray +Carson, as he was known in Topeka, Kansas, had numbered the young +Poussette among his hearers some ten years before when on tour in his +native country in the interests of a Socialistic order. The exodus of +French Canadians to the neighbouring "States" is frequently followed by +a change of name, so that, M. Lapierre or St. Pierre becomes Mr. Stone, +M. Dupont Mr. Bridge, M. Leblanc Mr. White, M. Lenoir Mr. Black, Leroy, +King, and so on. + +Poussette was, to his credit, among those who gauged Le Caron's +sentiments fairly correctly, and he had no wish either to leave his +country or to change his name. Succeed he would--and did; make money +above all, but make it just as well in St. Ignace or Bois Clair as in +the States; learn English but not forget French, both were necessary; +become "beeg man," "reech man," but marry and live where his name would +be carried down most easily and quickly. As for his change of +religion, it was a good evening's entertainment to "seet roun," in the +bar and listen to Poussette's illustrated lecture entitled "How I +became a Methodist"; the illustrations being repeated sips of whisky +and water, imitations of different priests and anecdotes of indifferent +preachers. + +Most of this Ringfield was familiar with, but while Poussette as a sort +of accepted "character," a chartered entertainer, was one thing, +Poussette as a patron, importunate, slightly quarrelsome, and +self-willed, was another. For a few months the arrangement might work +well enough, but for the entire winter--he thought of the cold, of the +empty church at service time, of the great snowdrifts lasting for weeks +and weeks, and more than this too, he thought of his plans for +self-improvement, the lectures he would miss, the professors and +learned men he would not meet, the companionship of other students he +must perforce renounce. + +Reflections of this kind were continuing to occupy him when he suddenly +saw through the trees on the right hand the gleam of open water. He +had reached Five Mile Lake or Lac Calvaire, a spot he had heard of in +connexion with fabulous catches of fish, and on the opposite side of +the shining water he also discerned the roof of a large house, painted +red, and somewhat unusual in shape. That is, unusual in the eyes of +the person who saw it, for the steep, sloping roof, the pointed +windows, the stone walls, and painted doors, are everyday objects in +French Canada. The house at Lac Calvaire was a type of the superior +farm-house built in the eighteenth century by thrifty and skilful +fur-traders, manufacturers and lesser seigneurs, differing rather in +appearance and construction from the larger chateaux or manoirs, a few +of which at one time existed along the banks of the St. Laurent, but of +which now only three well-preserved examples survive. As the size of +the original grants of land or seigneuries varied, some eighteen, +twenty and twenty-five miles long by six, eight, twelve miles wide, +others less, certainly few larger, so the lesser properties, accounts +of which are rare among works dealing with the state of society at the +time, varied also. While numerous collections of facts pertaining to +the original fiefs or seigneuries (usually called _cadastres_) exist, +it is not so common to meet with similar attempts to define and +describe the exact position of others in the early colony beside the +seigneurs. The large land-holder figures prominently in colonial +documents, but the rise of the trader, the merchant, the notary, the +teacher, the journalist, is difficult to follow. Very often the +seigneur was also the merchant; to be _grand marchand de Canada_ in the +new colony signified solid pecuniary success. + +As far back as the year 1682 the Sieur de la Chinay _et autres +marchands de Canada_ equipped, it is presumed at their own expense, +several ships, and proceeded to Port Nelson, raiding and burning the +Hudson Bay Post, and carrying away sixteen subjects of His Majesty. +The Sieur de Caen gave his name to the Society of Merchants still +farther back, in 1627. Henry, in 1598, and Francis, in 1540, each +granted letters patent and edicts confirming certain Court favourites +and nobles in possession of the great fur-bearing districts of +Hochelaga, Terres Neuves, and also of "_La Baye du Nord de Canada oui a +ete depuis appelle Hudson est comprise_". It is plain that commerce +had as much to do with early colonization as the love of conquest, +ecclesiastical ambition, or the desire on the part of jaded adventurers +and needy nobles for pastures new. From the Sieur de Roberval to the +merchant princes of Montreal is an unbroken line of resolute men of +business enterprise, bearing in mind only that what the French began, +the English, or rather the Scotch, "lifted" with increasing vigour. In +1677 royal permission was given to open mines in Canada in favour of +the Sieur de Lagny. The "Compagnie du Castor de Canada," carried on +what even at this day would be regarded as an immense trade in beaver +skins. "La Manon," wrecked about 1700, carried beaver skins amounting +to 107,000,587 livres. The Sieur Guigne, known as the Farmer of the +Western Domain, paid at one time the sum of 75,000 livres per annum on +account of beavers. + +In lesser degree the same was true of moose skins and of the finer furs +for apparel and ornament, and thus for many a long year honourable +names and well-descended families were found among those who bought and +sold and quarrelled and went to law in the spacious marketplace of Le +Bas Canada, with the wide and only partially known or understood +Atlantic rolling between them and the final court of appeal--His Most +Christian _Matie_ in France. + +Nothing, it is certain, of this was in Ringfield's mind as he looked at +the steep roof and the stone walls of the house at Lac Calvaire. The +dwelling, like the country surrounding it, held little attraction, +still less what is called romance or glamour for him, for his was not a +romantic nature. Yet neither was he dull, and therefore the aspect of +the house moved him, out of curiosity alone, to skirt the banks of the +reed-fringed lake and find a nearer view of what struck him as unusual. +This was not difficult, as the lake was a short oval in shape, and +before he walked five or six hundred yards he came to the low stone +wall or fence which appeared to completely surround the manor and over +which he soon was desultorily leaning. The garden grew in front of him +somewhat fantastically, with irregular beds marked out with white +stones, and directly facing him was a badly hewn, clumsily scooped +fountain half filled with weeds and dirty water. Behind the house were +trim rows of dark poplars, and there appeared to be a long chain of +barns and other farm buildings extending into the very heart of a dense +plantation of pine. As he looked, still leaning on the low wall, the +place kindled into life and activity. Pigeons came from some point +near and settled on the rim of the fountain. From a door at the side +issued an old woman with a dish in her hand, followed by a couple of +dogs and four cats. These all disappeared among the barns. A minute +later a wagon came lazily along the road, driven by a dark-eyed, +habitant-hatted man who turned in at a gate without taking much notice +of the loiterer. Two plump, dark-eyed servant girls and a little boy +came round the corner of the largest barn; they were apparently dressed +in their best, carried prayer-books, and were evidently on their way to +evening service at St. Ignace, in the handsome church designated by the +heretic Poussette as a "big stone barn full of bad pictures". Finally +there emerged upon the scene, proceeding in a deliberate, dainty, +mincing manner along the garden walk, now rapidly drying in a burst of +fierce August sunshine, the most wonderful, the most imposing, yet the +most exquisite and delicate object Ringfield's eyes had ever beheld. +If a moment before he had thought of retracing his steps and turning +away from a house too full of people on a hot Sunday afternoon to +permit of further lingering in its vicinity, now, he found it +impossible to move, fascinated by the beauty of the rare creature +slowly coming towards him. For this was a white peacock, tempted by +the sudden radiance out to take the air. It paused for an instant as +if to consider the effect and stood, displaying a colossal fan of snowy +feathers, tipped with glittering frost-like filaments. Perhaps it +intuitively knew that Ringfield had never seen one of its kind before. +It continued to stand, while he continued to gaze, and two or three +times it shook that resplendent wheel of shining downy plumes, +trembling in each sensitive fibre with pride and glorification in its +beauty. With each shake, there fell upon the ear the tinkle as of some +faint and far-distant fairy bell; it was the friction of the +spear-shaped sparkling tips as they met in air. + +Ringfield thought it the whitest thing he had ever seen. It was like +snow, or sugar, so finely spun and glistening. Then its air of +arrogance captivated him--the creature was so fully aware of its +charms. He spoke to it and the bird came on nonchalantly; then +gracefully executed a wide turn, carrying that shining palpitating tail +with it and walked back to the house. At the same moment he old woman +with the dish reappeared and commenced driving the bird before her. + +"O don't do that!" exclaimed Ringfield, forgetting that probably she +knew no English. "The rain is over for a while. Let it have its walk. +I've never seen one like it before." + +The old woman was smiling as if to encourage him, but he saw directly +that she did not understand him. He was answered however, and by a +voice from the doorway. The lady he had seen that morning at church +was addressing him. Laughing lightly, she came out to the garden and +Ringfield advanced to meet her. Thus they had the bird between them. + +"I am speaking to the Reverend Mr. Ringfield?" said she pleasantly, and +the young man was reassured. This new acquaintance, whether +_chatelaine_ of the curious house or stranger, spoke excellent English. + +"I saw you in church this morning," responded he. So much of a mutual +introduction was easy and necessary; after that, with a dignified +withdrawal of the peacock, conversation naturally turned to the subject +of the morning service. + +"I do not think I can ask you inside," she said presently, "for like +many old houses, particularly those built of stone, ours is cold in +winter and hot or rather close in summer. We might walk toward the +poplar grove there, I should so like to speak to you about that sermon." + +Ringfield assented with a pleased brightness. + +"And what are your conclusions as to the sermon?" he said, when they +were seated in an old and crumbling arbour looking upon the lake. "I +am afraid I did not give myself quite enough time on this important +occasion. Preparation is everything." + +"I do not allude exactly to the sermon, not the devotional part of it. +Sermons are not much in my line. I meant rather the reading you gave, +that wonderful description of the river, the fall, the waters issuing +from under the sanctuary--you see I have remembered the words--the +trees for medicine and healing, even the fish,--why I never thought +there could be anything like that in the Bible! You chose it +purposely, of course?" The young man did not reply for an instant. A +hint of flippancy in the speech of his companion seemed to create a +barrier between them. + +"Purposely! Well, yes, I suppose I did. Purpose, intention, design, +must, should enter into all earnest preaching, and whatever may be the +faults of mine I endeavour at least to be that, to be earnest. But I +am glad you were struck with the parallel; not many in that +congregation would be at all likely to." + +"You might have dwelt more upon that parallel in the sermon. I +expected you would." + +"Well, no, there are canons of good taste, good form, as the world puts +it, in preaching as in other matters. It was sufficient to indicate +the parallel; people could then look up chapter and verse for +themselves. As no doubt you have done." + +"Quite impossible. I do not possess a Bible." + +Ringfield turned a reproachful eye upon her. + +"We are Catholics, you see, or supposed to be. I have a 'Key of +Heaven' and five other devotional works. But I never read them." + +The other was silent. Looking for the first time with serious interest +at the lady whose ease of manner and cultured speech were remarkable +for the place, he perceived that in a moment she had revealed much. +How few people, how few women in particular, would display a spirit of +utter frankness towards a stranger on so important a topic as religious +belief! And how quick she had been to appreciate the literary side at +least of his quotations from Ezekiel! What more was striking or +unusual about her he could not then take time to consider, for people +so recently complete strangers cannot, it is conceded, discuss each +other or a situation as they may after several days or weeks of +intimacy. He was conscious of feeling that in a certain sense he had +met with as clever a brain as his own and with some one in whose +personal history or life story there was an element of romance, of the +unexpected, the unconventional, absolutely foreign to his own +experience of life. He therefore hastened to change the subject. + +"It may be that you have heard. If not, I may tell you that Mr. +Poussette has offered me the new church at St. Ignace. I took this +long walk out here to-day to think it over. I--well, frankly, I hardly +know what to say." + +"In your profession you are not supposed to consult your own wishes, +but rather the general good. Is not that the case?" + +Ringfield smiled, but also shot a look at his companion. + +"I suppose I may put it that I have had a 'call'. A call to the new, +flourishing and highly attractive 'parish,' as our friends the +Anglicans call it, I should say, the 'mission,' of St. Ignace. I am +not speaking satirically, I might do worse." + +"You are considering it, now, this afternoon?" + +He paused for a mere fraction of a moment. "I was." + +"In the meantime, you have another service this evening and I am +detaining you here when you should be on your way back to the Fall and +the village." + +It was true. Ringfield was forgetting the time. + +"Had it not been for the bird--" he began, and from that point the +conversation, at one time strongly personal and introspective, became +ordinary. Ringfield closed the gate behind him, lifted his hat and +turned back along the road without having ascertained the name of the +lady or her condition in life. The service hour arrived, so did the +small but enthusiastic congregation. The rain had entirely ceased and +the air was perceptibly cooler. The preacher had prepared a sermon of +more florid style than the one delivered in the morning, and he +appeared to have the absorbed attention of those who understood the +language, while the French contingent listened respectfully. The +passage of Scripture to be read aloud had been chosen since the +morning, since the afternoon walk in fact, but there was no one present +from the house at Lac Calvaire to hear and understand part of the +thirty-eighth chapter of Job, beginning with the verse, "By what way is +the light parted, which scattereth the east wind upon the earth?" and +ending with the thirteenth verse of the succeeding chapter, "Gavest +thou the goodly wings unto the peacocks?" + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE MAN IN THE CHAIR + + "From out the crumbling ruins of fallen pride + And chambers of transgression, now forlorn." + + +The house at Lac Calvaire was, as stated, a fair specimen of the +dwellings erected in the first half of the eighteenth century by those +Canadians who, living frugally though comfortably, felt that affection +for the soil, for the natural features of the wild but picturesque +country, even for its severe and strenuous climate, which in many cases +prompted them to make homes and found families. In the year 1729, a +Clairville, rich trader in furs and skins, built the house five miles +from the majestic and lonely Fall. This Clairville was the grandson of +a certain Francois Gaillard, body servant and faithful follower of the +Sieur de Clairville--Antoine-Louis-Onesime--who came to New France in +1664. The nobleman in question led a truly chequered life in the gay +garrisons of the new world, varied by a couple of voyages to the gayer +Court he had left behind, but through all the reckless episodes of his +long and stirring career, Francois was by his side, patient, adroit, +silent when necessary, at other times a madcap for freak and fantasy. +Faith of a gentleman--Francois Gaillard was everything his noble master +should have been, and that master too often such as the poorest lackey +might have been ashamed to be, yet--faith of a gentleman--De Clairville +atoned for much ere he died. Francois, his foster-brother, received at +his master's death a gift of land under the Crown to him and his heirs +for ever, the name Gaillard to be abandoned for that of Clairville. In +1684 the Sieur de Clairville died; Francois survived him twenty years, +leaving one son and two daughters. These became _Clairvilles_; there +were no De Clairvilles. The son prospered, as did _his_ son, another +Francois, who built the strong stone farm-house and planted the poplars +and laid the foundation of a well-known name, respected and quoted far +and near in the community. Both house and family seemed to bear +charmed lives. Canada was lost to France and in that losing many fine +manor-houses and farms were destroyed, but Clairville and Clairville +Manor went untouched. For this, the peculiar situation of the house, +so far back from the Fall, its existence almost undreamt of by English +soldiery, ignorant of the country, was, of course, responsible. A +Clairville went to France at the close of the Revolution, made himself +useful and remained in some post under the Government. Another went up +to Quebec, became a sound lawyer, and batonnier of his district. Both +of these individuals, however, died unmarried, and the next owner of +the manor neither distinguished himself nor contributed to the glory of +his line. That glory, such as it was, for the ignoble Francois was the +founder of it, gradually departed. The Clairvilles deteriorated, sold +off large parcels of their land, married undesirable persons, till, in +the present generation, the culmination of domestic ruin seemed +probable. For the Clairville now inhabiting the manor was not only +reduced in purse and delicate in health but suspiciously weak in +intellect. + +When Ringfield woke on the Monday following his inaugural service, the +sun was shining brightly into his room at Poussette's, and it is a fact +that in his mind he saw a picture of a dazzling fan of foamy white +feathers waving proudly in that sunlight. It really was the bird and +not the lady that intercepted other and more pertinent reflections +having to do with his future movements. He loitered about all morning, +fished, lunched with his guide, made a pencil sketch of the Fall, and +then about three o'clock in the afternoon walked out to Lac Calvaire. +He neared the house; at first he saw no one, it was the middle-day +siesta. No peacock was visible, no lady. Then he saw a face at a +window and it stared at him. Ringfield, taken by surprise, returned +the stare. To the stare succeeded a weak smile, then a beckoning +finger, then an insistent tapping. The window was closed, with a +roughly crocheted curtain half-drawn back on a string. The young man +had no cause to hesitate, for he knew nothing of what lay inside the +house. He was also a clergyman, which means much. It means, if you +rightly understand your office, that you must be always ready to go +anywhere, to do anything, that may be of the smallest benefit to your +fellow-man. It means, that because of that high office, there is +nothing really beneath your attention, too insignificant for your +study, and yet you are so far above the rest of mankind, the mere lay +portion of the world, that, like a God in courage and in calm, you may +indeed enter where Angel and Devil alike fear to tread. At least, that +is the old and orthodox conception of the clerical profession, and +although it might be sometimes foolishly and conceitedly pushed to +extremes by other men, there was nothing in Ringfield of the mere fussy +moralist and pulpit egoist. After all, as he entered the house and, +guided by the voice of its owner, found his way to the room looking on +the dusty country road, he saw nothing very terrible, only a thinnish, +fair, middle-aged man, wearing a black skull-cap and clad in a faded +and greasy but rather handsome theatrical-looking dressing-gown and +seated in a worn arm-chair. As for the room itself, he suppressed an +exclamation of mingled surprise and impatient remonstrance, for, +although of large proportions and not badly lighted, it was so littered +with books, papers, maps, and pamphlets, so overgrown with piles of +dusty blue-books, reports, dictionaries and works of reference, thick +and antiquated, thin and modern, local and foreign, standing on end, on +tables, on the mantel-shelf, extending into the old-fashioned cupboards +minus doors, taking up a ragged sofa, a couple of arm-chairs, and a +dilapidated _armoire_, and even the greater portion of a bed, that +almost every gleam of sunlight was obscured, and upon this warm damp +August afternoon the air was heavy and close with a suggestion of +staler odours still. + +"I saw you yesterday," said the man in the chair, "from this window, +but you did not see me, eh? You were greatly interested in the bird." + +He paused, and a weak smile changed to a haughty air, accompanied by a +flourish of the hand. + +"It is without doubt rare, a great curiosity. But there have been +white peacocks at Clairville a long time, many years, many years." + +"Clairville! That is your name, the name of the young lady, the name +of this place?" + +"Of this house. Also the estate. This house is, or should be, the +Manoir of the Clairvilles, of the _De_ Clairvilles. You are some kind +of clergyman?" + +"I am. I am a Methodist." + +"Have you read much?" + +Ringfield, looking around somewhat whimsically at so many books, on a +pile of which he was obliged to sit, felt unusual ignorance. He was +probably in the presence of some famous scholar. + +"Not much. Not anything like what you must have read if you have even +gone through a quarter of all these!" + +"Ah!" + +The strange man, savant, scientist, bibliophile, whatever he was, drew +his dirty dressing-gown around him with another flourish of complacent +self-admiration. + +"I am--you are quite right, Mr. Clergyman--a great reader. I have read +every book in this room two, three, many times over. You +were--surprised--to see all this book, all this document, all this +pamphlette--here, at this place, eh?" + +Ringfield, as yet only partly guessing at the peculiarities of his +host, assented politely. + +"My name is Ringfield," he said, noting for the first time the strong +broken accent of the other and his use of French idiom. "I am a +Methodist minister, spending some time at St. Ignace, and yesterday I +encountered a lady, who, I believe, lives here. At least, I----" + +The other cut him short. + +"Ringfield? That is your name? _Anneau, champ_--no the other way, +Champanneau. We have not this name with us. Yet, I do not know, it +may be a good name." + +The young man was superior to the slighting tone because he belonged to +the class which lives by work, and which has not traced or kept track +of its genealogy. He was so far removed from aristocratic tendencies, +ideas of caste, traditions of birth, that he scarcely apprehended the +importance of such subjects in the mind of anyone. + +"The English name, Champney," continued the man in the chair, "you know +that--might derive from it, might derive. But I am not so well +acquainted with the English names as with the French. You _comprenez +pour quoi, sans doute_. I am derive--myself, from a great French name, +a great family." + +The satisfaction with which he repeated this oracular statement +continued to amuse Ringfield, a son of the people, his friends of the +people, but it did not amuse the third person who heard it, the lady +who, advancing into the dark stuffy room, received a pleased glance +from the minister and a half-fearful, half-defiant scowl from the man +in the chair. + +"Henry!" exclaimed she, with great volubility and a kind of fierce +disgust, "how is this? What can you mean by so disobeying me? This is +no place to bring strangers! Nor do I want strangers brought into any +part of this house at any time of the day! It is suffocating here. Do +you not find it very heavy, very close in here?" she added, to +Ringfield, who had risen and slightly changed countenance as she +pronounced the word "stranger". + +He looked from the lady to the man in the chair in astonishment, for he +saw the former in a new and painful light. So dark was the frown upon +her usually serene countenance, so angry the light in her fine hazel +eyes, so anxious and perturbed her entire being, that she appeared +almost ugly. Not only so, but added to impatience and anger there +seemed something like repugnance, disgust, directed at the miserable +pedant who under the fires of womanly wrath blinked and smiled, but had +no defence ready. + +"It is altogether my fault that I am here," said Ringfield quietly; "I +took another walk in this direction, hoping for a sight of the peacock." + +"And you saw something else instead! Ah!--there is much I must explain +to you, you who come among us not knowing, not understanding. You see +only the outside. But I suppose I must tell you who we are. This is +my brother, my only brother, in fact my only living relative, Henry +Clairville. I am Miss--Mademoiselle Clairville." + +Ringfield bowed to her and to the man in the chair. + +"We are the last of what--of what it pleases him to call our Line. It +is all most foolish, most absurd. But I cannot tell you here. Since +chance has brought you our way again, and as you may take up your +residence in the neighbourhood--have you decided yet?--I feel I must +make some explanation of how you find us, my brother and myself. Can +you row? or paddle?" + +Her manner, gradually changing and growing easier every moment, made it +easy for Ringfield, who answered her with a smile. + +"Of course." + +"I asked, because some clergymen are so useless in some directions +while good enough in others." + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE HOUSE OF CLAIRVILLE + + "High instincts, before which our mortal nature + Did tremble like a guilty thing surprised." + + +The hall through which they passed was sufficiently dark to prevent the +masculine eye of Ringfield noting that long and systematic neglect +marked every inch of the wall, every foot of flooring, every window, +door, stair, sill and sash. Nothing was clean, nothing was orderly, +and as the books and papers contained in the invalid's room had +overflowed into the halls, lying on the steps and propped up on chairs +and in corners, the dirt and confusion was indescribable. Hideous +wallpapers were peeling off the damp and cracking wall, tattered shreds +showing, by the accumulation on their fly-specked yellow edges of thick +dust, how long they had waved upon the close air of this uncared-for +house. All the woodwork was rough and horrid to the touch by reason of +the millions of similar fly-specks; had nothing ever been washed here? +Cats were alarmingly abundant. Three lay about in the hall; four were +stretched on the grass in front of the door, and Ringfield saw two +more--so large and brown and with such huge tigers' heads, prowling +under the trees, that he scarcely took them for cats. The chain of +barns, farm-buildings and sheds was all in the same dilapidated, dirty +condition, and it was hardly strange that the vision of that white +loveliness--the peacock--which had tempted him in this direction, +crossed his mind as they proceeded to the landing-place. And yet the +Clairvilles were not without servants. Mademoiselle, having regained a +measure of her wonted serenity, began to describe her retainers, +proving that servants were almost as numerous as cats in that +neighbourhood. The elderly woman, the man, the two girls and the boy, +were all one family, and living "about" as their mistress carelessly +put it, in the barns and out-buildings, divided the work among them. +The woman's husband, Xavier Archambault, employed at the Fall as +assistant to look after the bridge and dam, helped at odd moments in +the business of the estate, thus making in all six servants, a rather +large contingent for a dwindling concern; and Ringfield, listening to +these wonders, could not fail to observe that their united wages must +reach a high figure. + +"Oh--they are not paid!" exclaimed mademoiselle, "at least, not in +money. My brother, who is, as I was going to tell you, a person of +stronger character than you might imagine, has never paid a cent of +wages to anyone in his life. He has managed to infect all his +work-people, and, indeed, many in the village, with his own belief that +it is an honour to labour for him and his, he being a De Clairville and +the highest in rank in this part of the country. Of course you, having +lived in the West, and knowing so much of the world, must see how +foolish this is, how it involves us--my brother and myself--in many +unpleasant and difficult situations." + +A note of challenge in her voice led Ringfield, who had taken off his +coat and was paddling, to stop sharply and observe her. + +"Pray be careful!" she cried in sudden alarm. "When I was at home all +the time I could stand any kind of behaviour in a canoe, but lately I +seem to be losing my nerve. I suppose you _must_ kneel?" + +"Certainly. Much the easier, therefore the safer way." + +"Therefore! All easy things--safe?" + +He was clumsy at this kind of refined innuendo, and considered before +replying. + +"No, perhaps not. But I give you my word not to disturb the +equilibrium again." + +The lake, a basin of clear water, small as Lower Canadian lakes go, and +framed with thick foliage reaching to the edge, was absolutely silent, +absolutely deserted, on this warm afternoon. Ringfield found it almost +too hot to talk, but his companion seemed to enjoy the unburdening of +various confidences, and as she had such a willing listener she had +every opportunity, of taking her own time, and of delivering herself in +her own way, of a remarkable tale. + +That, within two days of his enforced sojourn at St. Ignace, the young +preacher found himself thus--floating on a silent desolate lake in one +of the remotest parishes of Quebec, listening to a family history of +mediaeval import from the lips of a woman, young too, cultivated, +self-possessed to the degree of hauteur, whose Christian name was as +yet unknown to him, was in itself remarkable. + +Ringfield, ardent, gifted, good, inherited directness of aim, purity of +ideals, and narrowness of vision, from the simple working stock from +which he had sprung, and it would have been easy for a man of the world +to foresee the limitations existing in such a nature. When +mademoiselle therefore began the Clairville history by relating some +circumstances in the flighty career of the Sieur De Clairville, hinting +at certain deflections and ridiculing uncertain promises of +reformation, of reparation--for even the seventeenth century had its +cant--the matter was far from being either real or relevant to her +listener. What had he to do with a bundle of old-world memoirs, even +when edited and brought up to date by an interesting woman! What to +him was the spotless character of the ignoble Francois, son of a +butcher, created a Clairville for his plebeian virtues, or the lives of +each succeeding descendant of Francois, growing always a little richer, +a little more polished, till in time the wheel turned and the change +came in the fortunes of the house which culminated in the present! All +these were mere abstractions, dull excerpts from some period of remote +and unfamiliar history, because that system which gave him his secular +education did not include knowledge of his country from an historical +standpoint. + +Macaulay and Alison, Gibbon and Grote, Motley and Bancroft--but not yet +Garneau or Parkman. The lady might have romanced indeed, with glib +falseness gilding picturesque invention, and he would not have detected +it. + +As it was, the truth remained sufficiently high coloured. He listened, +he apprehended, but he could not see that it mattered. + +"So now," remarked mademoiselle, trailing her large firm white hand +through the water and knitting her firm black brows still closer, "I +have brought the story up to the appearance on the scene of my brother, +whom you have met, no doubt pondered over, perhaps shrunk from." + +"No, no!" cried Ringfield. "You mistake. I was conscious only of +having no right to enter." + +"Ah--I could see, I could see. Poor Henry! He is the victim of many +delusions. One--that he is a great invalid and cannot leave his room, +that room you saw him in to-day. Another--that we are properly De +Clairvilles, but that we have somehow lost the prefix, the 'De,' in +course of years, and that a Bill may have to pass in Parliament to +permit us using it legally. There has been already in this antiquated +province a case very similar to ours, but it was a genuine case, which +ours is not. My brother owns the largest collection of old French and +old French-Canadian memoirs and books in the country, I believe, and it +may be that out of constant poring over them has come this ruling +passion, this dominant idea, to prove himself a seigneur, and more, a +noble, _grand seigneur de France_! Voila! but I forget, Mr. Ringfield +hardly speaks French, and I--hate the sound of it, only it crops out +sometimes." + +"But why--and you--how do _you_ speak such good English? I have been +wondering over that much more than over the case of your brother." + +Ringfield, as he asked the question, stopped paddling and sat down +cautiously opposite his companion. Her dark brows clouded even more +and the warm colouring of her face went white; she again resembled the +fury who had lectured the unfortunate pedant in the arm-chair. + +"I knew you would ask that. Every one does. I suppose it is to be +expected. Well then, my mother was English and I was educated at a +mixed school, ladies' school at Sorel, not a convent. I was quick at +the language--_voila_!" + +"Perhaps it was rude in me to ask. I believe I am deficient in +manners; my friends often tell me so. But you spoke such _good_ +English; better far than mine." + +"That would not be difficult. You have the accent strange to me, that +of the West. Then I have studied for the stage, in fact, and now I +suppose I shall frighten you altogether and make you upset the canoe +when I tell you that I am _on_ the stage." + +It only needed some such declaration to convince Ringfield that, still +floating on this silent, desolate lake he was indeed removed from all +his usual convictions, prejudices and preferences. What had he to do +with the stage! To the Methodist of his day the Stage was deliberately +ignored in the study of social conditions. It was too evil to be +redeemed. Its case was hopeless. Then let it alone and let us pretend +it does not exist. This in effect was his actual state of mind. + +"I have never been to the theatre," he said simply. "They say that at +some future day we, as Methodists, may have to take up the question of +amusements and consider the theatre seriously. It may be that we shall +have to face other facts--the craving in this age of people, especially +our young people, for greater liberty of thought, and I suppose, +corresponding liberty of action. But so far these questions have not +come very much before me, and I must plead entire ignorance of all +matters connected with the profession to which you belong." + +Mademoiselle Clairville's brow was now completely serene; a laugh was +on her lips and a smile in her eyes as she listened to the staid +phrases of her new friend. + +"You and your young people!" she cried. "How old are you yourself, +pray? Twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty--no, hardly twenty-seven. You +may tell me your age quite frankly, for I will tell you mine. I am +twenty-nine. Do you not think that I look much younger?" + +He was in truth a good deal surprised, for to his age--twenty-six, as +she had correctly guessed--twenty-nine seems old for a woman. + +Before he could frame a clumsy allusion to her youthful appearance she +had continued with a change of manner:-- + +"But sometimes I look older, yes, old enough. Tell me, you who preach +your English sermons, so long, so much longer than our Catholic ones, +about trees and rivers and _fish_--do you never preach too about men +and women and their faults and vices and tempers? Ah! there, _Monsieur +le p'tit cure_, you should know that I am a good subject for a sermon, +I and my temper! For I have a temper. Oh, yes, indeed I have." + +There being no instinct--at least not as yet developed--of gallantry in +Ringfield's composition, he did not seek to weakly deny her +self-imputed charge. Had he not already seen a proof of the truth of +it in her treatment of Henry Clairville? Was there not even now a +curious malicious gleam in her dark eye, a frown upon her forehead, a +kind of puckered and contemptuous smile upon her lips? Handsome and +probably clever, even good she might be, and yet remain--unamiable. + +"I am afraid you have not had a happy life," said he, very gently, and +the simplicity and kindness of his manner smote upon her stormy +countenance, so that it melted and all the ugly hardness and latent +shrewishness died away. + +"I have not, I have not!" she cried. "You see my situation here, my +surroundings. Henry, my poor unfortunate brother; the old house, which +might be so comfortable, falling to pieces for lack of money to keep it +up; these terrible people, the Archambaults, pretending to work, but +living on me and eating up everything on the place; the village, with +none in it to know or speak to that I care about; the lonely country +all around, cold in winter, hot in summer; the conviction that Henry +will get worse; the fear of--the fear of----." She stopped. + +"The fear of what?" said Ringfield quietly. "You need have no fear +whatever of anything. You are one of God's children. Perfect love +casteth out fear. Dear Miss Clairville, so recently a stranger, but +rapidly becoming so well known to me, never mind about sermons and +conversions. Never mind about Catholic or Protestant, bond or free, +English Church or Methodist. Just think of one thing. Just cling to +one thought. You are in God's hands. He will not try you too far." +Very impressively he repeated this, bending forward till he could look +into her troubled eyes. "I believe, and you must believe too, that in +His infinite goodness He will not try you too far." + +A shiver passed over her frame. She lowered her eyes, her mouth +twitched once or twice, then she remained silent and passive while +Ringfield, thinking he had said enough, resumed his paddling. It was +some minutes before conversation recommenced and then Mademoiselle +Clairville requested him to return. + +"Do not think," said she, "that I am offended at your preaching to me," +and now a mild sadness had succeeded to her wilder mood, "but one of +the servants is signalling to me from the shore; my brother probably is +in need of me. You will come to see us, to see me again, and I shall +hope to hear that you will remain at St. Ignace for the winter at +least. Here is one patient of the soul, and we may soon find another." + +"If it would make any difference to you,----" he began, still without +any trace of innuendo or latent gallantry, but she interrupted him with +some flashing out of former merriment:-- + +"How could it, when I am away nearly all the time or try to be? I am +now, like you, considering an offer, and may say adieu to St. Ignace, +the Fall, and Henry, any day. But even if I go, some fascination will +draw me back. It always does." + +As he left her at her own gate the face at the window was still +blinking at them. Dimly the ardent young Methodist began to discern +some contingencies in life of which he had never dreamed. And how +admirably he had perjured himself in the interview! Had he not +forgotten the particular sect to which he belonged? Had he not +besought his hearer to forget whether she was Catholic or Protestant? +Had he not, in short, for the first time in his ministerial experience, +fulfilled the plain duty of a true Christian without stopping to think +of ways and means and artifices? Looking back, he was amazed to +remember how earnest he had been and how sudden but genuine was his +sympathy with this lonely woman. Apprehensive for her safety and +content of mind, stimulated as he had never been before by her frank, +original presence, he mentally resolved to remain at St. Ignace for her +sake, or if her protracted absence ensued, as she hoped, to manage to +return when she did. + +He had arrived at this decision when, on drawing near Poussette's, he +perceived that individual himself in little straw hat and large white +apron standing at the door engaged in critically examining an enormous +catch of fish--black bass and lunge, just brought in by the guides. +Ringfield asked the time, for he began to realize how long he had been +absent. It was nearly seven o'clock and the evening meal was over. + +Poussette at first tried to be angry. He declared that there was +nothing left. Ringfield smiled and strode to the fish lying in +glittering silver heaps on the grass. He lifted up the biggest bass +and carried it into the house, and the coolness of the deed appeased +Poussette. + +"That is all right, Mr. Ringfield," said he, slapping him quite +affectionately on the back. "You shall have a good tea, a good tea, +after which you shall hear what we have to say. Mister Desnoyers, +Patrick, myself, all wait for you and all shall be arrange, eh? Every +one round come in, come in and drink _bon sante_ in something good I +got on Saturday. Ah--you shall see, you shall see!" + +As Ringfield went in to his "good tea" Madame Poussette came out. +Rather to his astonishment, she sang to herself in passing, and +although her sad vacant eyes were not bent on him, he felt as if the +words were intended for his ear. What were those words? + +His knowledge of French was limited, but still he could make out a kind +of rhyming refrain-- + + "Derriere + Chez mon pere + Il-y-avait un grand oiseau." + + +He stopped and tried to catch more as Madame went down the walk singing +low to herself. + + "Derriere + Chez mon pere + Il-y-avait un grand oiseau. + la, la, la, la-- + C'etait beau ca, c'etait beau." + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE UNSEEN HAND + + "The procession of our Fate, howe'er + Sad or disturbed, is ordered by a Being + Of infinite benevolence and power." + + +Had Ringfield continued his conversation with the _chatelaine_ of +Clairville he would in all probability have asked a few questions about +her theatrical career, placing it in his imagination in one of the +large American centres to which in the seventies or eighties all +Canadian artists gravitated. In this he would have been wrong. + +In a back street in the purely French quarter of Montreal stood a +pillared and placarded building once known as the home of an ambitious +coterie, the _Cercle Litteraire_, which met fortnightly to discuss in +rapid incisive Canadian French such topics as "Our National +Literature," "The Destiny of Canada," and "The Dramatists of France," +from which all _politique_ was supposed to be eliminated. The building +had originally been a house and private bank belonging to a courtly +descendant of an old family, a De Lotbiniere, who grew French walnut +and cherry trees, lettuces and herbs in the back garden. When the +banker died the _Cercle Litteraire_ bought the house for a small sum, +comparatively, seeing that it was built of good grey stone, had many +bright green shutters and an imposing facade of four pillars, and from +one part of it issued once a month the extremely high-class +journal--organ of the society--called "Le Flambeau," the other part +which comprised a fair-sized hall, retiring rooms, and secretary's +office and quarters, being altered to suit the needs of the _Cercle +Litteraire_. But in time the glories of the exclusive and classically +minded coterie faded, its leading spirits died or disappeared, the +superior monthly organ--torch for all the country--burnt itself out, +lost subscribers--in fact the whole business was declared insolvent, +and the nervous, gifted, but too sanguine editor-in-chief (there were +three editors), M. Anselme-Ferdinande Placide De Lery, _avocat_, and +the devoted, conscientious, but unprogressive secretary, old Amedee +Laframboise, scientific grubber and admirable violinist, had to get out +of Rue St. Dominique as best they could and go back to the law and the +local orchestra. For several years the house was vacant, and then at +last it held a still more gifted, more numerous, and, all things +considered, more successful coterie within its walls than "Le Flambeau" +had been able to procure for it. A certain travelling organization, a +company of good actors and actresses direct from Paris, which had +landed in America the previous year, giving comedies and pretty +domestic pieces in New York and other cities, not meeting with the +success it expected, came to French Canada in the hope of reaping +substantial profits in a congenial atmosphere. Ah--what a mistake was +this! To think that if in Philadelphia or Boston "Le Bourgeois +Gentilhomme" or "La Joie Fait Peur" did not make money, either play +would do so in the Montreal of thirty years ago! It was a mistake, +certainly, from the monetary point of view; on the other hand, many +friends were made, much good feeling and admiration prevailed and, in +short, the company, stranded in a Canadian town, found living cheap and +easily earned, plenty of good fellows--French--and settled down as a +local stock affair, fitting up at no great expense the banker's house +with the walnut-trees and bright green shutters under the name of the +Theatre des Nouveautes. + +This was the playhouse in which Mlle. Clairville acted. This was the +clever company which, secure in New France from blase critics, produced +the comedies and tragedies of Moliere, Corneille, Dumas, Halevy, Mme. +de Genlis, as well as serving up adaptations like "Le Vieux Oncle Tom," +"Le Prince de Denmarque," "Le Condamne," "L'etranger," also attacking +with superb, delicious confidence the then popular operas of "La Grande +Duchesse," "La Belle Helene," and "Il Trovatore." What acting it was, +so vigorous, dashing, resourceful! How Mme. d'Estarre jumped easily +from a Precieuse to Eva, and from Gertrude, a dark-eyed _bourgeoise_ +Queen with frizzed hair and train of cotton velvet, to +Camille--wickedest play known at that time! Then when Mlle. +Pauline-Archange-Emma-Louise de Clairville joined the company, what a +Hamlet she made with her fine figure and her remarkably firm, white +hands, what a Phedre, once when the actor was ill, what an "Oncle Tom"! +What a Duchess of Gerolstein later, when the company discovered that it +could sing, collectively at least, and what a Helen, in flowing Greek +costume, fillet of gold braid, and sandals! + +This was indeed Acting--to merge mannerisms, to defy fate and the jeers +of any sober English reporter who strayed into the Theatre of +Novelties! When Mme. d'Estarre found that she had to return to France +unexpectedly, on account of the ill health of her children, left behind +in a provincial town, she was given a grand benefit, and although the +public (who were getting a little tired of madame, she was over fifty) +did not respond as gallantly as might have been expected, the members +of the company with true Gallic chivalry made up the large amount +necessary to carry her across, bring her back and provide in the +interim for the afflicted children. This was Pauline's opportunity; +she naturally succeeded to the position of leading lady, and kept it +until her faults of temper developed and she had the pleasurable +excitement of a fierce quarrel with her manager. Thus, while her +talent was conceded, her stormy temperament prevented her achieving +anything like permanent success, and every few months she would +reappear at St. Ignace, live drearily in the dingy house, lecture the +servants, abuse and weep over her brother, when suddenly tiring of this +she would return and have to begin again at the foot of the ladder. + +Ignorant of these cloudy and strenuous careers, Ringfield saw only an +impulsive and unhappy woman old enough to fascinate him by her unusual +command of language and imperiousness of conduct, and young enough for +warm ripe brunette beauty. To be plain, first love was already working +in him, but he did not recognize its signs and portents; he only knew +that an ardent wish to remain at St. Ignace had suddenly taken the +place of the tolerant and amused disdain with which he had once +considered Poussette's offer. + +A couple of days later he had returned from a long afternoon on the +river when a man around the place named Crabbe came to him with a +letter. Opening it, he found it to contain another offer from a +prominent citizen of Radford, a large and thriving Western town, to +fill a certain pulpit of some distinction during the absence of the +pastor in Europe. The time mentioned was ten months and Ringfield sat +down at once to consider the importance of this offer. He would be at +last in a cultivated community. Much would be expected of him and he +would have every chance to put forth what was best in him. For several +years he had been labouring on the missionary circuit and the work was +hard indeed, with slender results. Here was sufficient remuneration, +comfortable housing in a more sympathetic climate, and the prospect of +receiving a still more important call in the future should he make his +mark. Such considerations, if mundane, need not also be mercenary; +each man is worthy of his hire and his pulse beat in pleased excitement +as he viewed the rosy outlook. + +But--Miss Clairville! A vague foreboding of the truth flitted through +his brain; men wiser in love and affairs of the affections than our +young Methodist minister have been self-deceived, and although he +sternly put her image away he dimly avowed to himself that she was +already occupying far too much of his thought. Here was a clear way +opened, or so he imagined, referring each move as it occurred to the +guidance and knowledge of the Higher Power, and he could find no other +than an affirmative answer to the letter which he kept turning over in +his pocket, and still kept reading through the evening in the general +room. He had excused himself from the already over-convivial group on +the front verandah, and being provided with paper, sat at the table +composing his reply. + +The lineaments of his singularly fine and noble countenance were easily +seen through the window where the guides, M. Desnoyers and Poussette +were sitting, and the vision of the black-coated, serious young scribe +inditing what he had informed them was a very "important" letter, +subdued the incipient revelry. + +Poussette was uneasy. He had not yet received any direct answer from +Ringfield to his own offer, and for many reasons he preferred to attach +and retain him rather than any other "Parson" he had ever encountered. +But Ringfield was wrapped in his own thoughts and quite unconscious of +the highly improving spectacle he made, lifting his eyes only to nod +pleasantly to Mme. Poussette who had glided in and was sitting by the +window. His letters were three: one to Mr. Beddoe who had invited him +to Radford, another to his relatives on the farm at Grand River, and a +third to Miss Clairville. He had not hesitated to write to her, for +short as their intercourse had been, her emotional nature had +manifested itself so warmly and their talk had been so completely out +of the ordinary, that higher things than convention must always govern +their friendship. His conscientious side held itself responsible for a +slightly superfluous act of sudden interest and attachment, and the +mentor's tone in which he pleaded with her, to ask herself whether the +theatre must be her goal, would have deceived anybody unaccustomed to +cold analysis of motives. He gave her, in short, good advice in the +guise of kindly sentiments, ending by avowing himself her "friend in +Christ" and protesting that her true welfare and happiness would always +be of interest to him. + +The letter written, he leant back, resolving not to send it by post but +by some ignorant, unsuspicious hand (therein was the new-found subtlety +and shyness of the true lover), and the change in attitude confused the +watchers outside who guiltily resumed their smoking and conversation. +And the strange, silent woman at the window, supposing Ringfield to be +in want of something--paper, stamp or ink--rose and stood by his side. +Thus she saw two envelopes addressed and ready for the mail, and a +third as yet innocent of any inscription. That she could read English +he doubted, yet he felt an objection to letting her look over his +shoulder. He rose, and going to the office, where Poussette hastily +preceded him, gave in the two letters for Ontario, and then informed +him of his decision. + +The Frenchman's disappointment was genuine and comic, partaking of +tragedy and despair. Desnoyers was called in; also the guests and the +two guides, with servants forming a picturesque and interested +background, so that Ringfield suddenly found himself the centre of an +admiring, friendly, but inclining-to-be quarrelsome crowd. Nothing +occurred, however, to alter his decision, and, true to his idea of +duty, he set off two mornings later, having committed the letter for +Miss Clairville to the man called Crabbe, a slouching sort of +Englishman who occasionally served as guide, ran a small open-air +general store, and about whom there seemed to be some mystery, his +accent and grammar being out of the common. + +Forty-eight hours after, Ringfield arrived at his destination, and +walking up from the train to the house of Mr. Beddoe, the gentleman who +had written to him, was shown into a small parlour to wait a few +minutes. Voices came from across the hall for a while, then he heard a +visitor depart and the next moment Mr. Beddoe himself entered the room. + +The surprise of this individual on perceiving Ringfield was genuine and +complete; his countenance fell and he stood gazing. + +"You did not expect me so soon, I see," said the young man easily. +"Well, I was in rather a quandary, something else having offered, so I +decided quickly, hating indecision. You got my note of acceptance all +right, I hope? It should have reached you _at the latest_ yesterday." + +"Yes, yes," murmured Mr. Beddoe, "but, sit down, Mr. Ringfield, sit +down--the truth is--a rather peculiar thing has occurred. I--ah--I may +as well make you acquainted with it at once. Our pastor, who, without +being mentally weakened to any extent by a troublesome and obstinate +illness, for which, as you know, we have sent him abroad for a trip, +was extremely absent-minded in many little ways, and it has transpired +that before his departure he wrote himself to the Rev. Mr. Steers of +Bradford, arranging with him to take the pulpit for the time he should +be away. He neglected to inform us of the fact, but Mr. Steers came in +just after we had written to you, and as he is a married man with a +family, and as he certainly expected the duty and the remuneration for +a period, I felt that you would have to reconsider our offer. I sent +you a telegram embodying all this." + +"I never got it. Telegraphic facilities are uncertain in that part of +Quebec. For example, St. Ignace is the village, but Bois Clair the +name of the post office, and there is no telegraph at either place. +Montmagny----" + +"That was where we telegraphed," broke in Mr. Beddoe, "but probably +there was some delay in sending on the message and we did not look for +you quite so soon. Mr. Steers has just left; he is a very reasonable +sort of man, and if you think you are bound to keep us to our offer we +will talk it over with him." + +The young man had taken a chair at Mr. Beddoe's invitation, but he +still clutched his florid and somewhat old-fashioned carpet-bag and he +did not make any suggestions. + +"Of course," exclaimed the other, uneasy at the silence, "you will +remain here with us until the matter is settled, and I feel sure a +satisfactory settlement can be made. You spoke of an alternative. +Would that do for Mr. Steers?" + +Ringfield roused himself to say that he did not think it would. + +"It's not the place for a married man," he went on. "There are no +houses such as you are accustomed to up here; the people are mostly +French, the climate is extreme; it is, in short, only a mission, and as +I've just come from there, and understand the place, I think I had +better go back and leave Mr. Steers in possession of the field." + +"Oh! But----" returned Mr. Beddoe, noticing a faint tinge of sarcasm +in the tone of the speaker, "we do not ask you to do this. It's all +most unfortunate! These great distances, so difficult to find a +person--we did our best." + +Ringfield rose; there was clearly no reason why he should remain in +Radford whether he went back to St. Ignace or not, and just then the +condition of his purse was extremely important. This detail was set +right in time, in about two months; meanwhile a visit to his friends in +the country would give him an opportunity to decide as to his future +movements. + +The sojourn on the farm occupied three days, at the end of which he did +what he knew he would do from the moment of meeting Mr. Beddoe. He +bought a ticket for Bois Clair with almost the last money he had in the +world, and within ten days of leaving Poussette's the steamer plying on +the river to St. Ignace deposited him at the familiar rickety wharf +once more. + +It was nine o'clock and dark, with a light rain falling. The +passengers, mostly tourists, were stepping off in that timorous way +peculiar to people unaccustomed to the primitive, by the light of a +lantern waveringly but officially displayed by Crabbe, the surly guide +to whom Ringfield had given his letter, and behind Crabbe, a little +higher up on the bank, stood Poussette, whose costume as usual was +characteristic. He wore a checked tweed suit of light brown, a straw +hat, and an enormous chef's apron tied round his waist under his coat. +Visions of fried bass or lunge, of potatoes _saute_, and even of hot +pancakes, danced before Ringfield's weary eyes, for he was both tired +and cold, and accordingly he gaily pushed his way through the loiterers +and fresh arrivals until he reached his host. + +"Well, Poussette!" he cried, "I'm to be your man after all, it seems! +They didn't want me in the West, I found, or rather I thought it wiser +to come back and take advantage of your kind offer. I suppose you can +put me up somewhere for to-night, and to-morrow we can talk the matter +over." + +The Frenchman had started violently on seeing Ringfield and a great +change came over his manner. Where was the welcome the minister had +looked for? On this fat, usually smiling countenance he could discern +naught but astonishment, disappointment, anger! + +What could have happened during that futile journey westward and back? +Poussette vouchsafed no reply, no solution. He avoided the puzzled +stare of the other man, and after giving some orders in French to +Crabbe and the other guide, Martin, a very decent Indian, quickly went +up to the house without greeting his guests. + +Ringfield was suddenly seized with a sense of the ludicrous. He told +himself that he managed to be _de trop_ wherever he went, but he also +firmly resolved that no temper, no caprice on his patron's part should +affect him now. If possible he must remain at St. Ignace and ignore +whatever had caused the singular change in Poussette's attitude. There +was indeed fish for supper, but he fancied that the cunning touch of +the chef was wanting, and he was right. Poussette had not entered the +kitchen. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +THE MISSIONARY + + "Nor is it a mean phase of rural life, + And solitude, that they do favour most, + Most frequently call forth and best sustain + These pure sensations." + + +The following day Ringfield's curiosity naturally ran high; he was +entirely in the dark as to the peculiar treatment he had received at +the hands of Poussette, and it followed that one strong idea shut out +others. Miss Clairville's image for the time was obliterated, yet he +remembered to ask Crabbe whether the letter had been safely delivered, +to which the guide replied rather curtly in the affirmative. He +supposed Pauline to be still at the manor-house, but the truth was, on +the receipt of his letter a sudden temper shook her; she wrote at once +to M. Rochelle, her former manager in Montreal, requesting a place in +his company, and the evening that brought Ringfield back to St. Ignace +took her away. + +There were symptoms of thaw stirring in Poussette, and the minister did +his best to encourage them, but on the Saturday afternoon following his +return, when it was necessary to hold some sustained business +conversation with his patron, the latter could not be found. The bar +was a model of Saturday cleanliness, damp and tidy, smelling equally of +lager beer and yellow soap. Fresh lemons and newly-ironed red napkins +adorned the tall glasses ranged in front of Sir John A. Macdonald's +lithograph, and the place was dark and tenantless, save for Plouffe, a +lazy retriever, stretched at the door. The dining-room was abandoned, +the general room was full of children engaged in some merry game, but +otherwise the place wore that air of utter do-nothingness which +characterizes a warm afternoon in the country. Yet Ringfield +persevered and at last heard familiar accents from the "store" across +the road, a kind of shack in which a miscellaneous collection of +groceries, soft drinks, hardware and fishing appliances were presided +over by the man called Crabbe. Ringfield crossed, and found the two +men lolling on chairs; Poussette slightly drunk and Crabbe to all +appearances decidedly so. The place was of the roughest description; +it had no windows but an open space occupied by a board counter on +which were boxes of cigars, bottles, a saucer of matches and the mail, +duly sorted out for the inhabitants by Crabbe, who was supposed to be a +person of some importance and education, and postmaster as well as +guide. As Ringfield paused at this aboriginal place of barter, not far +removed from the rough shelter up the road under the trees where some +Indians held camp and displayed their grass and quill wares on planks +supported by barrels, he was struck by the sight of his own name. +There in front of him lay the missing telegram which Mr. Beddoe had +dispatched to Montmagny nearly a fortnight before. He took the folded +yellow paper up and put it in his pocket--no need to open it there and +then. + +"How long has this been here?" he asked, but Crabbe only moved uneasily +in his chair, reaching sideways in a pretence of arranging boxes +underneath the improvised counter, his hands shaking so that the goods +tumbled out of them. + +Poussette laughed and swore, yet a gleam of good nature seemed to +illumine his puffy face, and Ringfield, catching at this ray of +kindness, hoped he had come at the right moment. + +"Why, Poussette!" he said. "I'm sorry to see you neglecting a good +business like yours in this manner.--Get up, man, and walk along the +road with me. Where is the fun, or glory, or enjoyment of this +muddling and tippling--I am ashamed of you! Come on, I say!" + +But Poussette was hard to move; Crabbe, on the other hand, rose and +shuffled out of doors in the direction of the forest; Ringfield thought +he saw Madame Poussette's skimp skirts behind a tree; presently she +emerged and stood talking to the guide. + +"Come now, Poussette! There's your wife. Don't let her see you like +this. Then there's Father Rielle." + +"Where?" Poussette rose, superstitious fears of the village _cure_ +giving him strength and aiding his resolution. + +"Nowhere at present. But he's coming to tea. The cook told me he was." + +"What cook? I'm the cook!"--with great dignity. + +"No, no. You are cook extraordinary, when you wish it. I mean Frank, +who gets the wood and keeps the fire going, who cooks under you--you +know well enough whom I mean. Now, are you coming?" + +Poussette allowed himself to be hauled out of the shack and presently +he and Ringfield were walking up the road. + +"I've got to get you sober for to-morrow, you see. To-morrow's Sunday +and I want to know about the music. If we are going to introduce our +hymns to St. Ignace, you must help me to find some one to play the +harmonium. Better be a lady. Do you know any one?" + +But Poussette was not following. The mention of the priest had +awakened a flood of memory. + +"Father Rielle--I don't know if I like that one or not. One's enough, +you're enough, Mr. Ringfield. Give Father Rielle a drink and let him +go." + +"I'm not talking about Father Rielle at all just now. I'm talking +about our church and some one to play for us. And look here, +Poussette, this returning of mine wasn't my own doing. I want you to +know this. The man who wrote to me telegraphed afterwards--here's the +message in my pocket--and you see I never got it. I'm here now and we +must make the best of things. That fellow Crabbe mislaid the message +or detained it knowingly, I can't tell which, and I don't like him, +Poussette, I don't like his looks at all. He's a low fellow, always +drunk, and if I were you I wouldn't be seen going about with him. I'm +astonished at you, Poussette, with such a good businesss, two good +businesses, you may say, well-to-do and prosperous as you are, keeping +such a fellow on the premises. For I suppose he rents the shack from +you. Well, I know I wouldn't have him round the place at all." + +Poussette wagged his head in imbecile accord. + +"Low fellow--Crabbe--_marche donc_--get off, _animal_, don' come my +place 'tall." + +"You know I'm talking _right_, Poussette. Get rid of Crabbe. And +sober up now, man; don't let folks see you like this." + +Ringfield put his arm through the other's and led him aside under a +thick canopy of trees as a party of fishermen and Martin came along. + +"Look here--I'll make a pillow for you, here, out of these balsam +twigs! You lie down--that's it--and get a good sound sleep. Got a +cigar? And a light? That's all right. Now, you sleep--yes, don't +bother about the smoke now--just go to sleep and when you wake up, have +your smoke, clear your head, shake yourself and show up at tea-time, +straight and sober as I am! You'd better! Father Rielle's over for +tea. You wouldn't like him to see you like this!" + +Poussette collapsed on the improvised balsam couch, but managed to +remark that he would not get up on account of Father Rielle, nor give +him anything good to eat. + +"Why, I thought you liked him! Liked his good opinion, anyway!" + +"Beeg liar! Beeg rascal! I like you, Mr. Ringfield, when you don' +take away my girl. You leave my bes' girl alone and I like you--first +rate. Bigosh--excuses, I'll just go to sleep--for--while." + +Ringfield rose from the ground and sighed. He earned his livelihood +pretty hard when such scenes came into his life. Pastoral slumming, +one might term it, for he had only just laid Poussette respectably to +rest when he encountered Crabbe, lurching dully along the road, and at +the sight of him Poussette's extraordinary remark about his "best girl" +came back. What possible connexion could have suggested itself to +Poussette between the faded sickly creature he called his wife and the +visitor from Ontario? Ringfield thought it not unlikely that Poussette +was confusing him with Crabbe, for to-day was not the first time he had +seen the woman wandering in the proximity of the shack. However, +Crabbe gave him no opportunity for ministerial argument or reasoning, +for as soon as he perceived the other he turned, and straightening in +his walk very considerably, soon disappeared in the forest. + +Ringfield was thus thrown on his own resources after all, and in +thinking over the question of the Sunday music, not unnaturally was led +to associate Miss Clairville with it. He did not know her to be +exactly musical, but he gathered that she could sing; at all events, +she was the only person he had met in St. Ignace capable of making +arrangements for a decorous and attractive service, and he resolved to +see her and ask for her co-operation. Thus again he was drawn by +inclination and by a steady march of events along the road that led to +Lac Calvaire. Arrived at the _metairie_ he was told of Pauline's +departure for Montreal, and also that Henry Clairville was confined to +his bed by a severe cold. Some new awkwardness led Ringfield over the +threshold; the old Archambault woman who had attended the front door +threw open another on her left hand, and the next moment he found +himself in what must have been once the _salon_ of the family. The +furniture was of faded tapestry; a spinning-wheel, an armoire of dark +mahogany, miniatures, one very old and very ugly oil painting of some +mythological subject, cracked with age, the gilt frame thick with +fly-specks; a suit of Court clothes hung ostentatiously on a common +nail--these were the impressions he received as he sat waiting to hear +whether the Sieur would see him. + +Suddenly he started. The woman had closed the door, the room had been +empty when he entered it and yet--there were three cats in front of his +chair! Where had they come from? The window was closed, how had they +got in? Watching, Ringfield saw what greatly astonished him, for +presently the cats walked towards the door and a miracle appeared to +happen! They not only walked towards it but through it, and he was +ignorant of the apparent cause of the miracle until observing the door +very closely he discovered a little door down at the bottom, a cat door +through which they were in the habit of calmly passing back and forth +at will. Another cat door appeared in the hall where he stood a minute +later before being shown out, for Mr. Clairville would not receive him, +and nothing more impressed him with the idea of being in a strange +house given over to strange people than the knowledge of a system of +little doors cut in the big ones for the use of a dozen cats. + +Once more on the road, Ringfield experienced that sense of frustration +inseparable from first love. He had been so confident of seeing Miss +Clairville once again, and now, as he learned from the servant, it +might be Christmas before she would return, and despite his +resolutions, he knew he should be very lonely indeed, without any +congenial soul in the village, for a period of four months. He roused +himself, however, to think of the morrow's duties, particularly of the +music, and at tea that evening he found the person he wanted through +the kind offices of Father Rielle, who was a very liberal Catholic, +well acquainted with the whole countryside and who could ask, as he +said, in eloquent broken English, nothing better than co-operation in +good works with his young Methodist _confrere_. Poussette was present +at the evening meal, rather pale and subdued and pointing with the +pride of a true _chef_ to the omelettes which were his alone to make by +special dispensation, and after supper Ringfield walked out to the +great Fall, remaining till it was dark and late--so late that he knew +no one would pass that way. Then he knelt on a slab of rock and lifted +up his voice in this wise:-- + +"O Lord," he began, "look down on Thine unworthy servant. Help him and +guide his footsteps aright. He has returned to this place and to this +people. Assist him to preach the truth of the Gospel in the wilderness +and to those who know Thee not. Make him kind and keep him humble. +Give him light and understanding that he may be acceptable in this +place and that he may witness for Thee and for the Gospel, and that his +labours may be blessed and the harvest thereof indeed be great." He +paused, his eyes opening on the white wilderness of the Fall. Knowing +that the roar of its foaming waters would drown his voice he did not +scruple to use his fine, sonorous tones to the full, and went on again: +"Strip from Thy servant, O God Most High, all that savours of self. +Strike at sin if it lodgeth in him; cause him to remember now his +Creator in the days of his youth. Grant him wisdom in dealing with the +froward, and may Thy Holy Spirit descend in this solemn evening hour +and be with him now through the watches of the night and to-morrow when +he rises to plead Thy righteous cause. For Christ's sake, Amen." + +The mixture of the orthodox circuit style with an occasional direct and +colloquial abruptness made this prayer worthy of record, and after +silent meditation under the dark, swaying pine-trees, Ringfield, braced +by temporary abandonment of self, returned to Poussette's. As he rose +from his knees, however, something rolled down several ledges of rock +and he promptly went after it and picked it up. It proved to be a +book, not very large, and opening easily, but there was no light to +view it by, and it was not until he came near the village windows that +he discovered it to be, much to his astonishment, a well-worn copy of +Tennyson's Poems. On the fly-leaf were the initials "E. C. H." and +underneath, the word "Oxford" and date "1873". Ringfield took it up to +his room; some tourist had probably dropped it, and it was safer with +him than with Poussette. But when had an Oxford man passed that way? + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE OXFORD MAN + + "Here Nature was my guide, + The Nature of the dissolute; but Thee, + O fostering Nature! I rejected..." + +Ringfield, now committed to his duty at St. Ignace, was experiencing +that reaction which must always follow upon a sudden change in the +affairs of life when the person concerned has a tendency towards the +reflective. The absence from the manor house of that interesting +personality, Miss Clairville, threw him altogether on the society of +the village, but, apart from Poussette, who had become mysteriously +friendly again, the two individuals most in need of his ministrations +were Mme. Poussette and the shambling guide, Edmund Crabbe, in whom +were the dregs of a being originally more than the preacher's equal. +Old world distinctions would seem to be of small account in such a +hamlet as St. Ignace and yet questions of caste were felt even there. + +Crabbe, the owner of the "Tennyson," was that melancholy wraith of +breeding, a deteriorated gentleman, spoken of in whispers as an "Oxford +man," slouching along the winding country road, more or less in liquor, +with the gait and air of a labourer, yet once known as the youngest son +of a good county family. Few would have recognized in the whiskered +blear-eyed, stumbling creature an educated Englishman of more than +middle-class extraction. In drink an extraordinary thing occurred. He +then became sober, knew himself, and quoted from the classics; when +sober, he was the sullen loafer, the unmannerly cad, and his service as +guide alone redeemed him from starvation and neglect. Ringfield, who +had seen him, as he supposed, drunk on the Saturday afternoon when Miss +Clairville's departure had been made known, concluded to call upon him +at his shack a few days later, and was considerably surprised to find +the place roughly boarded up, while sounds of talking came from a +shanty at the back. The latter was on the plumed edge of an odorous +hemlock wood; squirrels and chipmunks ran, chattering, hither and +thither in quest of food, and a muskrat, sitting on a log near the +water, looked unconcernedly at Ringfield as he stood, hesitating, for a +few seconds. While he thus remained, a boy came along, looked at the +"store" and scudded away; then came a little girl, and, finally, one of +the maidservants from Poussette's. Muttering her annoyance, she too +waited for a while and was on the point of going away, when the door of +the cabin opened, and Crabbe looked out. He held himself erect, he had +shaved, his faded _neglige_ shirt was clean and laced with blue--a +colour that matched his eyes, and his voice had a certain expressive +and even authoritative drawl in it. + +"No supplies to-day, my good people," he said, affecting to suppose +Ringfield a customer. "Call to-morrow, or--ah--the next day. Sorry to +inconvenience you, but I've had to take a few hours off, writing +letters to the Old Country, asking about my remittance and so forth. +So I can't attend to business." + +In these polite if slightly satirical cadences there was the element of +superiority; the woman and the girl faded away, while Ringfield hardly +knew how to proceed. + +"I have come over just for a chat," he finally said, "if you are not +too much engaged. I have a good deal of time on my hands, and I'm +trying to get to know the people around. I am speaking to Mr. Crabbe, +I think?" + +"You are not sure, eh? Want to apologize for calling me a low fellow +to mine host Poussette, I expect! Well, come in and have your chat. +I'm not much in favour of clergymen, but then--you're only a Methodist, +I hear. You don't count." + +He shut the door, after piloting the other in, and led the way into a +sort of dining and living room, in the middle of which was a long, +narrow table covered with white oilcloth, graced by a monster bouquet +of wild-flowers, grasses and ferns at the end; at the other end was a +tumbler and a bottle and Ringfield saw clearly enough that it held +whisky. Yet he did not comprehend that Crabbe was drunk, while the +bold, blue eyes, the erect stature and the loud voice did not make a +single suspicion. Indeed, surprise and pity worked in him a kind of +false modesty. + +"I certainly should never have used that expression. My defence is, +that Poussette, though a good fellow, is rough, and difficult to +impress in English, you understand, especially when he is about +half-tipsy himself!" + +Looking around, the sight of faded photographs of English scenes on the +wall, of a large lithograph of Tennyson and of many well-bound books +and other evidences of refinement, led Ringfield to say, in vague +apology, "If I had known----" + +"Known what?" said Crabbe in loud, dictatorial, dangerous tones, all +shiftiness gone. "That I was a gentleman, eh? Well, gentle is as +gentle does, I suppose, and I've never scored anywhere, so here I am, +here I _am_, Ringfield (bringing his hand down on the table) that's +your name, I believe--and I've not worn so badly all these years. From +Oxford to Manitoba; then robbed and ruined by a shark of a farming +agent, damn him, down here to this wilderness and hole of a Quebec +Province for a change. For keeps, I imagine." + +He went round the table and poured out some whisky, drank it off raw, +and still Ringfield did not understand. He thought this was the sober +phase, the other, the drunken one, and feeling his way, ventured on +general topics. + +"Well, I'm here too by a curious twist of circumstances. I'm a +'varsity' man--Toronto, you know--and might look for something +different from St. Ignace." + +"You're a what?" cried the other. "O Lord!" and a strange kind of rude +contempt filled the rich cadences with which he spoke, so different +from the surly repression of his ordinary tone. + +"O I see!" he drawled presently. "I'm an Oxford man myself--worse +luck--and much good it's done me; hope you've benefited more thereby. +What disgusting rot, Ringfield, filling us up with Horace and Virgil, +and then sending us out to a land like this! I'm the youngest of five; +there was nothing left for me at home, and then there was fuss about a +woman--there always is." + +"Is there?" echoed the other sweetly, determined not to be annoyed. +"Don't lay everything at their door. Our mothers, Crabbe, our +sisters----" + +The Englishman suddenly ran amuck, as it were. + +"In God's name, Ringfield, drop that! I can see you know nothing about +it, nothing about life or women--God, Ringfield, women are the Devil! +If I thought you'd listen and not preach----" + +The other's hand, which had been lifted in horror and deprecation, came +down again. + +"I don't care to listen," he said, "but I can gather your meaning--all +the same! Don't take any more of that vile stuff, you'll make yourself +drunk. Here----" and then, with sudden fury, the preacher grabbed the +bottle, threw it out of the window among the debris of rotting fruit +and rusty cans and faced the Englishman. + +For a moment Crabbe looked, spat, and swore like a fiend; then he +collapsed into his chair, though still gazing at Ringfield with those +full, rolling eyes and that hateful, superior smile. + +"I'll hear anything you have to tell about yourself," continued +Ringfield, "but I won't listen to tales of other people, men or women. +And what's the use of telling me about yourself? That won't do any +good. Put it all back in the past, man; put it all away. Now is your +accepted time, now is your day of salvation, right here, this moment. +But I won't preach to you. I won't vindicate my calling and talk +religion, as you'd call it, in this place and at this hour, because I +see you're not ready. I thought you were sober. Now I see my mistake, +and now, I don't know _how_ to talk to you. I don't know how to begin! +I've never tasted the stuff myself--not even a glass of wine has ever +passed my lips, and my mother, Crabbe, used to make home-made wine and +give it to us--all but me. I wouldn't taste it. If I understood the +fascination of it, if I could follow the process, if I could sympathize +at all with you, then I might appreciate the difficulty and realize the +force of the temptation. But I can't! Other vices, take theft or +treachery, or cowardice, or insubordination; the seed of hatred +suffered to grow till the black Death Flower of Murder be born; +covetousness, sins of temper, all these I understand. And in some +degree those other temptations to which you have alluded." + +A slight wave of colour surged in the young minister's cheeks. Crabbe +was apparently beyond impressing. He sat and whistled, looking wisely +at his nails. The loss of the whisky did not trouble him, for he +remembered where he had a second bottle hidden, and a small quantity +yet remained at the bottom of the tumbler, unnoticed by Ringfield. But +presently he broke out again. + +"As for women," he cried thickly, as if he had not heard the other's +latest speech. "I've had enough of them, too much, as I said before. +You be warned, Ringfield! You keep out of trouble! I wouldn't swear +that I did not take to drink on account of them, and then, look +here--the trouble followed me out to this country, even to St. Ignace, +even to this hut and hole. What d'ye think of that?" + +"Why, who is there here?" exclaimed Ringfield, but as he spoke he had a +vision; the foolish wife of Poussette seemed to come along the path, +chanting as she came some minor French refrain and tapping at the +uncared for window as she passed. She might have been attractive once, +and Crabbe was not a very young man now. Some graces she must have +had; a way of catching at the side of her skirt, suggesting a curtsy; +plenty of fair hair and a child's smile playing at the corners of her +mouth--not so foolish then. But wise or foolish, she had been another +man's wife, unless he had encountered her in her maiden days, which +seemed improbable. + +"I cannot think," went on Ringfield, striving to shut this vision out, +"how women, any woman, plain or fair, sane or mad, could bring herself +to care for you,--and not because,--hear me, Crabbe, you are beyond +caring about. God forbid!--but because your form of vice must ever be +so distasteful to a woman. And then you are all wrong about your +surroundings. You are, you have been, at least, a man of education, +and yet you call this a hut and a hole. It is you who make it so! You +vilify, where you might ennoble. You defile where you should enrich +and keep pure. You are set here, in the midst of the most beautiful +scenes of Nature, scenes that cannot be matched anywhere in the world, +and yet you despise them and use them for your own undoing and that of +others. Nature lies at your door and you are answerable for your +treatment other." + +Crabbe laughed surlily. "She's no business lying--where'd you say--at +my door. Nature, always Nature! Much good it's done me, Nature, and +all that rubbish. I hate it, I hate and abhor it, Ringfield. That's +what makes me drink. Too much Nature's been my ruin. I'd be sober +enough in a big town with lively streets and bustle and riot and row. +I wouldn't drink there. I'd show them the pace, I'd go it myself once +more and be d----d to all this rot and twaddle about Nature! Nature +doesn't care for me. So careful of the type she seems, but so careless +of the single life. She doesn't bother her head about me, or you, or +Henry Clairville or Pauline!" + +He paused, and Ringfield shivered with sudden poignancy of +recollection. What right had this miserable scion of good family, so +fallen from grace, so shaken and so heartless, to call the lady of +Clairville Manor by her Christian name? + +"Or Mme. Poussette!" said the minister hurriedly, but with meaning, as +he pronounced the name, his voice trembling in spite of himself. +"Nature, it is true, does not care for any of us. Nature will let you +starve, get drunk, go mad. Therefore, we need a greater than Nature. +Therefore, having this committed unto us we speak as----" + +"O Mme. Poussette!" interrupted Crabbe, pouring the contents of the +tumbler down his throat. "Shall I get you some? No? Well, I don't +blame you, don't blame you. Mme. Poussette, poor creature! I have +heard she was pretty once. That was before I came, before--God's truth +this, Ringfield--before I taught her husband to drink deep." + +"I might have known!" escaped from the other. "Our own people rarely +drink--like you." + +"He was no innocent! He tippled, tippled. Then I came along and set +up my sign, Edmund Crabbe Hawtree, Esquire; no, we'll drop the last and +stick to E. Crabbe without the Esquire, d----n it! Lord! what a mess +I've made of it, and this rankles, Ringfield. Listen. Over at Argosy +Island there's a slabsided, beastly, canting Methodist Yankee who has a +shop too. Must copy the Britisher, you see. Must emulate--gentleman." + +His sentences were beginning to be less clear now. His head was +falling forward. "Well! then--this fine fellow does well out of _his_ +shop; sets up another down the river and yet another over at Beausoley. +He's made money! He's rich, married, and has a big family. Why don't +I make money, Ringfield, and get away from here? Why don't you make +money and not go about preaching? Eh? So careless of the single life! +Who said that? Whoever said that, knew what--was talking about. I +know what I'm talking about. I'm a gentleman, that's what I am, +Ringfield, and yet I can't make money." + +The wagging head toppled--he fell over on the table. The fire and +youth Ringfield had observed were gone and in their place were the +decrepit tone and the surly animalism which one associated with the +guide. Here, then, thought the young and impressionable minister, is +the living result of two corroding vices; the man is a sot, but +something beside the lust for liquor has helped to make him one. He +has followed after sin in the shape of his neighbour's wife, and +perhaps the latter's decline may be traced to the working of remorse +and the futile longing after a better life. + +As he was thus thinking, the vision of his thought actually flitted +past the window without turning her head. Still with those thin hands +picking at her shabby skirts and with that tremulous smile she emerged +from the wood and Ringfield heard her singing long after the rustling +of the closely arched branches had ceased. Crabbe seemed to be +dropping asleep when Ringfield touched him on the arm and tried again +to reason with him. + +"Tell me, I ask it for your own good and for that of the poor +unfortunate woman who has just gone by, tell me what there is between +you, how far the matter went, how long ago it was. Tell me, and I will +help you perhaps to get away, leave this place and all in it. That +would be the best thing. Come, Crabbe, I'll believe in you if you've +lost belief in yourself. Can I, can anyone, do more than that?" + +The Englishman rallied, passed a hand across his brow, then rose +unsteadily to his feet, looking around the cabin. Habit called for a +drink at this juncture and he saw nothing to drink. Anger awoke in +him; he grew maniacal, dangerous, and the late September shadows filled +the room. + +"What woman do you mean?" he cried. "_In vino veritas_! You thought I +was sober. So I was. Sober enough before you, the preacher, to know +that I'm getting drunk rapidly, beastly drunk too, and being so, and +the gentleman I am, or meant to be, I don't thank you for interference +in my affairs. What woman are you thinking of? What woman passed my +window?" + +"Mme. Poussette." + +The guide's face stared, then broke into unmistakable and contemptuous +laughter. + +"Didn't I tell you I was a gentleman? You've made a big mistake, +Ringfield. Even in my deterioration" (he had difficulty with this +word) "I remember who I am, and I don't go after married women. +Matrimony's one of the Church's sacraments, Ringfield, isn't it? +Perhaps not; I have forgotten. Anyway, Mme. Poussette is the wife of +my best friend, my best friend I tell you, and whoever cares for her +faded hair and finicking ways it isn't I. Sweeter pastures once were +mine. Have I named the lady of my choice or have I not? The gay +Pauline, the witty Pauline, the handsome Pauline! Ah! You admire her +yourself. You wrote her a letter. I gave it to her and we read it +together and laughed at it. 'Yours in Christ.' Ha-ha! We laughed at +it, Ringfield." + +Even in his foolish insults he paused, for an awful expression appeared +for a moment on the other's face. In that moment Ringfield realized +what Miss Clairville had become to him. No one can bear to hear his +love traduced, and he believed that in his cups this villain, Crabbe, +was lying. They faced each other and Ringfield was not the cooler nor +the saner of the two. + +"Pauline! Miss Clairville! What can she be to you? Hanger on of +womanly footsteps," burst from him, scarcely knowing what words formed +in his brain and emptied themselves upon the darkening air of the +cabin. "Stealthy and gloating admirer of her beauty, even the despised +companion and disloyal friend of her brother--all these you may be, but +surely nothing more to her." + +"What I am to her I know well enough and can tell you easily enough. +She's done with me, hates and fears me, won't have anything to do with +me, and yet she belongs to me and I'm not likely to forget it. And I +belong to her. That's another reason why I wouldn't go after Mme. +Poussette." + +"You mean--that she is, that you are--oh! impossible! You mean--what +do you mean? Not that you are married to her?" + +Extreme agony and repulsion gave shrillness to Ringfield's voice. To +have met and loved, to have coveted and dreamed of that warm, imperious +yet womanly presence, and to hear this dreadful truth concerning +her--if it were the truth. + +"Well, you've guessed it. Yes, married to her, by heaven!" said +Crabbe, and he lurched forward and fell. + +Ringfield saw and heard him fall, but he was already out of the shack +and speeding through the forest paths; dim arcades of larch and pine +met over his head while upon the river and the great Fall were stealing +long bars of bright silvery light from the level sun. Soon the silver +would mellow to gold as the daily marvel of the sunset was +accomplished, but Ringfield was beyond such matters now. Nature could +do no more for him in this crisis than it had done for Edmund Crabbe, +and the virginity, the silence and fragrance of the noble wood, brought +him no solace. Yet as he sped he could not choose but breathe and the +air filled his breast and then fed his mind so that presently coming +upon a glade or opening in which was a large slab of grey lichened rock +he lay down at length to think. And that Nature which could do nothing +for him spiritually in this hour of trial conspired to comfort and +restore him physically. He could not pray. His accustomed resources +had failed him; instead, as it grew quite dark around, he fell asleep. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE "PIC" + + "How dreadful the dominion of the impure!" + + +The September days gave place to October ones and still Miss Clairville +remained away. The tourists had departed and Ringfield could judge +more accurately of the mental and moral status of the countryside. The +congregation of Sunday scarcely numbered two score, but Amable +Poussette and wife were always present and the rule seemed to be that +any who had tired of Father Rielle came to Ringfield whether they +understood him or not; poor Catholics were thus in danger of becoming +even worse Methodists, and he exerted all his faculties and talents in +general directions concerning conduct and character. The beautiful +skies and water, the rocks and great Fall, were as impressive as +before, but they no longer filled so much space in the mind of the +young preacher, who now saw all things in the visible universe from the +standpoint and through the jaundiced eye of the disappointed and +unhappy lover. All Nature mocked him and it would go hard indeed with +him should religion, too, fail him in such a juncture, but the spirit +of work and priestly endeavour kept him as yet from sheer wretchedness; +he prayed daily to think less of the world and more of his calling and +it seemed as if the fate which brought him back to St. Ignace to love +and suffer in loving would spare him further, since there was no sign +of Miss Clairville's return. His preaching could not fail, because he +brought to it a fine original gift and an automatic precision and +certainty resulting from the excellent training of his Church, but +between Sundays the time dragged. His labours among the few scattered +and uneducated families of conflicting race and origin seemed +unconvincing and empty, and a new shyness possessed him; he disliked +hearing any mention of the Clairvilles, for Crabbe's story he had come +to accept as true without a word of questioning; indeed, Miss +Clairville's own words came back to him as a proof. + +"Another patient of the soul," she had said. Also, she had referred to +something dark and of sinister import, fatal yet compelling, which +always drew her back from livelier and more congenial places, and, as +he judged, from a sphere of work which paid, to the house at Lac +Calvaire. That the society of her brother was the attraction, +Ringfield could not admit, and what other ties or friends had she? So +far as he could learn--none, and thus he read her story; growing up +unprotected and motherless, without any standard to judge by, she must +have accepted the attentions and fallen under the spell of a man who +probably appealed to her pity and also to her intellect. Crabbe had +been the only man in the neighbourhood capable of understanding her +cultivated allusions; the remnants of the mixed education she had drawn +from the school at Sorel and the pedantic dreary associations of the +manor house. But in the contemplation of such a thing as her marriage +to such a man Ringfield's fancy failed. The whole plan of creation was +altered and blackened. He did not wish to know on what terms Pauline +and this man now met. He tried to shut out all the images such a story +conveyed, and thus he asked no questions nor did he hear any gossip, +proving that the affair was old, and if once known to the country +people, accepted and forgotten. Why could he not treat it in the same +fashion? His faith was not shaken in the sense of belief in a Supreme +Being, but he no longer lived so much for and by his faith; Nature and +God were put back in the past, as he had said to Crabbe, and all his +thought was for the duty of the hour and for the guidance and +sustenance of others. He imagined he had lowered his own dignity by +writing, on the first impulse of desperate first love, the letter which +Crabbe had read with Pauline, and he strove to regain that clerical +calm and judicial bearing that had suffered so violent a shock. But +when six weeks of this repressed existence had sped and autumnal winds +were sweeping down from the glacial north of Terrebonne, bringing cold +rains and occasional snow flurries with them, he felt that he must at +least call at the manor to inquire after Henry Clairville. Little at +any time was heard of the latter except when "Ma'amselle" returned to +her native heath, at which times the Archambaults were whipped into +work and obedience by the forcible tongue and stormy temper of their +mistress. Messages and parcels then passed between the domain and the +village; Father Rielle made his call and the whole village and +_paroisse_ quickened with energy under Pauline's determined sway. +Crabbe--this Ringfield heard from Poussette--was also sent about his +business; he was no longer encouraged to play cards and drink with +Henry, who fared as he might at the hands of the tyrant family swarming +all over the estate. + +On a chilly October day, Ringfield once again traversed the muddy road +leading to Lac Calvaire, his heart sore over the revelation that had +reached him, and he could not repress a painful sigh as he came in +sight of the _metairie_. The lake was dull grey, the maples were +shedding their leaves without painting them red and yellow, and the +pines looked unusually sombre against a pale and cheerless sky. A pair +of kingfishers were flying from side to side of the road, and a forked +object sailing high up in the air proclaimed itself a bird, otherwise +there was no sign of life till, approaching the front of the +_metairie_, he observed the peacock taking its airing in a neglected +garden. + +Nothing had affected the pose and splendour of this radiant creature as +it paraded up and down, gently swaying its lustrous and shimmering +tail; the drooping fortunes of the house were not reflected in its mien +or expression, and it was not until Ringfield was met by four lean cats +prowling about him in evident expectation of food and petting that he +descried unusual neglect in the appearance of house and garden. Three +ugly blotched and snorting pigs ran out from under some bushes and +followed him. He saw no smoke arising, no face at any window, heard no +lively bustle in the farm-yard, no amusing and contentious chatter in +Canadian French from the barns and out-buildings which sheltered the +various members of the Archambault family. A curious feeling rushed +over him and with it a conviction--the place was deserted. He went at +once to the chain of farm buildings and examined them all; all were +empty, with every sign of hurried and agitated flight rather than of +orderly and complacent departure. The horses were gone, the two wagons +and buggy, the buckboard. Traces of fright and apprehension were met +at every step; a dirty hairbrush dropped on the ground; a clock +abandoned on a bench outside the door as if too heavy; tins opened and +rifled of their contents; a tub half full of soiled clothes in foul +water. All these he saw, scarcely taking in their meaning, until +returning to the manor he opened the front door and went in. There in +the usual place he found Henry Clairville, alive, and no more. Still +clad in the greasy dressing-gown and still seated in the tattered +arm-chair, the unfortunate man was clearly very ill. Patches appeared +on his face, which was both pallid and flushed; his neck showed red and +sore and his body hung down limply over the side of the chair. +Evidently he had tried to get to his bed which stood in a corner, and +failed. His eyes were staring and full, yet glassy; sense and +recognition alike were wanting, while the delirious accents which +escaped now and then from his parched lips were altogether in French. +In short, Ringfield, though unaccustomed to disease, knew that the man +before him was very ill, of what did not enter his head, although there +came to his mind a description of the plague in a boy's story-book. He +did what he could, singlehanded, which was to snatch some warm clothing +from the bed, cover up the sufferer so that draughts might not reach +him, fetch water and leave it on the table near the chair and see that +all animals were excluded. He then quickly sought for a secluded spot +near the lake, hung his own clothes about on branches to air, and took +a plunge into the clean, cool water, after which he was ready to return +to St. Ignace and get assistance. + +Dr. Renaud, the village practitioner, drove out at once, taking a woman +with him, who, as soon as she learned she had to deal with the "Pic" +ran screaming from the house, thus clearing up the mystery of the +Archambaults. + +"They knew," said Ringfield, "and I didn't. But I guessed something of +the kind and took the only precaution open to me. I washed in pure +water. And now what are we to do? Has M. Clairville no one belonging +to him but his sister?" + +"Not to my knowledge," said Dr. Renaud, who spoke good English, "and we +do not wish her to return." + +"Certainly not." + +"Then I can only think of one person in the village." + +"A nurse?" + +"Not a professional nurse, but, as I say, the only person I know of +close at hand who can do what is necessary until we get a nurse, if the +man lives to require one. A male nurse would be better, but who is +there here? No. I am thinking of the right one if I can only get her, +if I can only get her?" + +"She lives in the village?" Ringfield was curious; he thought he had +met every one in the village, yet here was some paragon of female +skill, virtue and strength with whom he was not acquainted. + +"You must have met her. Of course you know her. I speak of Mme. +Poussette. Ah! You shall smile and you shall frown, but you shall see +what a miracle she can work! You shall yet envy this sick seigneur. +Madame is noted for her care of the sick and dying. You are surprised? +Yes?" + +"I cannot help it. Anyone would be. She looks so frail, so delicate, +and surely she is also what we call afflicted, peculiar. Is she a fit +and sensible person for a case like this?" + +"Ah! Mon Dieu!" exclaimed the doctor with a slight impatience. "These +afflicted ones, these peculiar ones--they are still capable of +something. Many times have I seen it; the old, old tottering +_grandmere_, the crazy aunt, the bad-tempered husband, even the +inebriate, can find, when they are guided, work which suits and +maintains them. Even when the mind is shaken, if it is only a little, +just a little, to care for others, a bird or a cat, or a sick person, +this will keep the wits steady. A case like this moreover!" repeated +Dr. Renaud, laying his finger to his nose. He was round, jolly, +bow-legged, and brusque, with pronounced features overstrong for his +height, merry eyes, and a red birthmark. "This is the case. We are, +you and I and presently Father Rielle, responsible for M. Clairville. +He must not be moved except to his bed; he is too far gone for more. +The wife of Poussette is, to my knowledge, the only person we can get +to sit here, administer drink and medicine, make him comfortable. +Well, not even she can do that but--you _comprenez_. And she is +capable, I know her well. She is as she is" (and the doctor made the +sign of the Cross), "yet she is worth ten saner women, for she has no +nerves, no fears, no imagination. Tell her what to do, place her here +to do it, and she will not fail; I have seen her a dozen times in the +village nursing sick women and their babies. She's as good as most +doctors and better than most nurses. Yes, yes, we will get madame to +him at once." + +"But she may take it!" + +"I think not. Her body like her mind is purged of all evil humours, +_mon ami_. She is already more than half spirit and waits in peace for +old age and quiet decay." + +Ringfield got into the doctor's buggy in silent surprise. + +"Besides, if she did take it, and it killed her, I cannot see any great +calamity. I will tell you her history. She was well educated at a +good convent near Montreal; her father was a doctor, as I am, but a far +cleverer one. Yes, I lift the _chapeau_ to that one, that old Dr. +Pacquette as regards the great art and science of medicine. But as a +father--ah! God pity him where he is now, according to our belief, in +purgatory for many long years to come. _Bien_! Dr. Pacquette had lost +his wife, and his daughter, a fairy thing, was allowed, even +encouraged, to grow up as she pleases. They have grand friends in +Montreal, her father's people still live on Rue St. Denis, great rich +people; if you go there, drive out over the mountain and you shall see +her old home, the Pacquette Chateau. Well, this Mme. Poussette when +she is a girl (Natalie-Elmire-Alexandre, I don't give you all her name) +she is very pretty, and the old doctor wish her to make a grand +marriage, and he has every one up to the house and make a big time for +them, and introduce her to all the young men, all the _rich_ young men. +But while she has been at that convent she has met with Amable +Poussette, who was not so stout then, had a good figure and a lively +tongue, and the end is, they are married at Ancien Lorette by a young +priest, who might have known better. Some months after, she goes home +to her father to be taken in and forgiven and nursed, for she has by +this time a young infant about six weeks old. Well, you can perhaps +imagine _le vieux_ Pacquette when it is all explained. He is enraged, +he drives her from his door, she passes all one long, cold night in the +snow outside the _chateau_ on Cote des Neiges hill and when she is +found by the servants two days later, she is as you see her, monsieur, +and the baby is dead! Never again the bright little Natalie-Elmire, +but instead, a pale, faded, vacant-eyed, timid woman. Ah! If I ever +meet _le vieux_ Pacquette in the next world!" + +The doctor nodded his bald head sagaciously; as for Ringfield, he was +thinking that here was the opportunity for which he unconsciously had +been waiting, to ask for and probably receive Miss Clairville's equally +dramatic story, when he beheld another buggy coming around a corner of +the road driven recklessly by one of the Archambault boys and in the +buggy sat mademoiselle herself. Her attire, always so different from +village modes, was true on this occasion to her theatrical calling, for +to Ringfield's eye at least she appeared like some Oriental personage, +caught and brought home in native garb, coupled with a very bad temper. +Red and black was her habit and black and red her eyes and angry +compressed lips. + +The doctor stood up in his buggy and Miss Clairville in hers, and, as +for a quarter of an hour the excited talk was in rapid French, +Ringfield could only gather that the doctor was endeavouring to +restrain her from going to see her brother. At last, turning away from +Renaud with an imperious wave of the hand, she addressed herself to the +minister in English. + +"I understand it is to you the doctor owes his knowledge of my poor +brother's sickness. I only heard of it myself last night on the stage +at eleven o'clock, but I came at once--look at me in all this sinful +finery, I can see you are calling it! Oh, yes, you are. Well, now +that I have come and thrown up my part and my place in the company in +Montreal, he will not allow me to finish my journey and go on to +Clairville!" + +"Certainly, you must not think of going!" cried Ringfield. "On no +account must you do such a thing. Do you know what is the matter with +him?" + +"Oh, the 'Pic' I suppose, but I'm not afraid of it." + +"Yet you have not been vaccinated, I fear!" + +"Who told you that? Dr. Renaud, I suppose. Of course. No! No one is +ever vaccinated here, no good Catholics at any rate. Good orthodox +ones, like myself." + +The doctor frowned, for he disliked the tone of bravado in which these +words were uttered. + +"It's no question of faith. It's a question of common sense and +precaution. I have charge of the case and I will not permit you or +anyone else to cross the threshold of Clairville Manor." + +"You would class me then with the Archambaults! My own people, who eat +and drink at my expense and who turn their backs on me in the hour of +trial! Poor Henry, it will finish him, I fear, yet I and none other +must be there to nurse him. _Mon Dieu_, but it is a shame!" + +"Silly girl!" snapped Renaud. "There is no nursing for you in this +case. Assuredly, Mlle. Pauline, you do not enter the house, I cannot +allow it. Besides, mademoiselle, you return home too late. If you +remained at Clairville longer, and had the place cleaned out, and saw +to it that it was kept clean, your brother might escape these +sicknesses, but poor girl, poor girl, I find it hard to blame you. +Antoine! turn back and drive to the village. Mademoiselle goes now +along with us." + +His allusions if they pained did not soften her, but it was at +Ringfield she continued to look. + +"I shall have no place to stay," she said poutingly. + +"It's a pity you came at all," said the doctor. "They can find you a +room at Poussette's." + +"I will die sooner than go to that man's house. It is a common place, +not fit for me." + +"Come, come, you are excited. We know Poussette's weakness for a +pretty face and a fine figure, but here is our new and true friend to +look after you." + +"Mine is not a pretty face, Dr. Renaud, and I prefer to look after +myself. You do not understand, I am out of a position by coming here. +I only heard last night that Henry was ill and I came at once, +expecting to be in my own home; I did not know what was the sickness he +had; I have left the theatre to come here and now I have nowhere to go." + +Ringfield spoke at last. + +"There need be no difficulty at all about your going to Poussette's, +Miss Clairville. You will oblige me by taking my room, which is the +largest and best in the house. As for me, I can do with anything. If +you wish I will go back to your house, sleep there in place of the +servants, and keep you aware of all that goes on, of your brother's +progress at least." + +"Quite unnecessary," broke in the doctor testily. "I am in charge of +this case, and one patient at one time is all I care for. Drive back, +Antoine, to Poussette's, where you will leave ma'amselle. Drive quick, +too, for I wish to see the carpenter, Alexis Gagnon, next door to M. +Poussette, where I think a room can be got for Mr. Ringfield. Allons! +we have wasted one good half-hour already!" + +"You blame me of course for that!" said Pauline, still gazing at +Ringfield, but talking to the doctor. + +"Faith, I do," said the latter grimly, and she said no more. + +In the Maison Pension of Alexis Gagnon, the village wag, carpenter and +undertaker, Ringfield was accommodated with a room which had a balcony +at the back looking on a square of Arctic garden, where amid circles +and triangles of whitewashed stones the tobacco plant and some +sunflowers lasted into the autumn. The news of monsieur's serious +illness had now filtered through the parish, and Poussette's was full +of men discussing the affair, as Pauline, looking like an outraged and +defeated savage queen, passed into the hall, trailing her cheap red +silken draperies up to Ringfield's room. The door to the bar was +partly open; whisky was going round as supposed to be good to ward off +the "Pic," and prominent in the noisy crowd was the shambling figure of +Crabbe, who did not appear to notice Pauline, nor she him, and +Ringfield, observing them both, could hardly bring himself to believe +their extraordinary story. The brilliant if wayward actress, with her +fine carriage and white hands, could never have belonged to that +derelict of a man, lower even than the rough Frenchmen from the rafts +and chantiers now demanding more "visky blanc". Yet in youth many +things are possible, and the recital of Mme. Poussette's history seemed +to prepare the way for Pauline's. Meanwhile Dr. Renaud had spoken to +madame, and within an hour she was ready, and, being driven to Lac +Calvaire, entered upon her labours without qualm or protest. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +PAULINE + + "A conspicuous flower, + Whom he had sensibility to love, + Ambition to attempt and skill to win." + + +Thus the next day and for many days to come Ringfield met the lady of +his dreams at breakfast and at dinner; her third meal was served +privately to her in her own room at a quarter to seven, and he wondered +why until he remembered her vocation. Though at present not acting she +evidently retained the habits of the profession, and for the first few +days she continued to wear the scarlet silken and spangled drapery in +which she had left the theatre, modified by different wraps and +scarves; then a trunk arrived and she appeared more discreetly and +soberly clad. One evening it became unusually warm for the season, and +stepping out on his balcony he perceived her seated on hers; he +returned her gracious and encouraging salutation, wholly different from +the self-conscious manner she affected at the dining-table, and he +hoped now to be able to take up the acquaintance where it had been +dropped. For his part he meant to ignore that miserable story of +Crabbe's; he would treat her as the lady she was and the sincere, +much-tried creature he thought her. Her mood just now chanced to be +charming, and as she rose, again wearing the gay dress of the theatre, +which showed her throat and elbows in their perfection, Ringfield, even +with his slight experience, knew that she was beautiful. That same +Nature which was so forced upon his notice in his new resting-place was +strong within him this evening, and he could not refuse to harbour +certain natural impulses of admiration and delight, especially as she +was unusually animated in voice, expression and gesture. + +"Do you not think it dreadful, Mr. Ringfield, that poor Mme. Poussette +is alone with my brother all this time? Should I not be there too and +take my share in some way? Oh, not in this dress of course; I +understand your look. I have only put this on because it is cooler +than any other I have with me. See--I have pinned up the train around +me! I must not scandalize the country-folk! I may tell you this--the +people of the village think me very peculiar. In their opinion I might +mend my manners." + +"Oh, _their_ opinion!" came from Ringfield with a smile. + +"Well, even here, even in St. Ignace, there is a standard, you see." + +"Of manners? Yes, I suppose so. And of morality, let us hope." + +"You are not certain? What have you found out, what departure from the +standard in other places? _Mon--Dieu_! I hope not--you are thinking +of Montreal and the Hotel-Champlain!" + +"The chief vice I have encountered here," returned Ringfield firmly, +"is drink, and as a result other things connected with it, ensuing +naturally." + +Miss Clairville sat down suddenly, and as she did so her draperies +whorled about her till she looked like some crimson flower with her +dark head for its centre. "Oh!" she said under her breath, "surely +there are worse things than drink!" Some latent emotion betrayed +itself in her voice; small wonder, he thought, if Crabbe were really +anything to her. + +"Certainly there are, but they are easier to deal with. There is my +difficulty, for I know I am going to find it very difficult to make an +impression, to work any lasting reform here." + +"And you wish to?" + +"I wish to if I can." + +"I thought at first you were only a preacher." + +He laughed. "Only a preacher! That conveys a great deal. You must +have but a poor idea of my vocation, of the saving grace and special +power of all true religion." + +"Religion! But if religion can do so much, why would not Father Rielle +succeed as well as you?" + +"Ah! there you have a problem, I admit. Perhaps, however, he has been +here too long; perhaps he is accustomed to the situation and is not so +deeply impressed by it. Besides, I am not so much concerned with the +habits of the rough fellows we see about here; as far as I can judge, +the lumbermen, mill-hands, labourers, and people of the village are +remarkably sober, considering the temptations and loneliness of the +life and certain contingencies which prevail. For example, when you +take two or three dozen uneducated men and isolate them for months in a +lumber camp, or a mine, or send them to work on remote booms and rafts, +depriving them of all family ties and Christian influences, and +removing them from all standards of conduct and character, what wonder +that you are confronted by this grave problem? + +"But I was not thinking of such cases. I was thinking rather of a +successful man like Poussette, good-hearted, respected by all who know +him, and yet so weak! So weak in this respect that he neglects his +business and allows himself to be led into disgrace and humiliation +by----" + +"I never knew Mr. Poussette drank!" exclaimed Miss Clairville +hurriedly. "I am quite surprised. He is such a kind man and a friend +of Henry's, and Father Rielle thinks highly of him, although he no +longer attends his church." + +Ringfield was now satisfied that she had broken into his speech +purposely to avoid the mention of the Englishman's name, but he +determined to stand his ground. + +"I was about to say that while I blame Poussette for his weakness I +blame still more the individual who in my opinion has led him on. +Living in the neighbourhood so long you must recognize the man I mean." + +Her attitude did not in the least change, nor was her gay mood +impaired, but she did not reply, and the silence was a challenge to him. + +"I mean the unfortunate Englishman who runs that grocery and liquor +shack across the road, who calls himself a gentleman, Crabbe, the +guide. You know him?" + +"I have seen him." + +"You _know_ him?" + +Surprised, she answered less brightly: "Yes, I know him." + +"You knew him better perhaps years ago? You knew him when he was +master of himself, when he first came here. He is, he tells me, an +English university man, and in the course of our conversation one day +he quoted from 'In Memoriam' in the intervals of a semi-drunken +confession." + +He now had all her attention; she tried to maintain her proud air, but +something was working in her to the exclusion of all coquetry, all +dissimulation. + +"If you know him so well, why--why come to me for information? Of +course any one living here, as you say, must have met him." + +"But he has spoken to me of you as if he knew you very well, as if----" +He could not continue, and even in her own uneasiness she felt a pity +and tenderness for him. + +"Why do you bother yourself about us--about him, I mean? Or me. I +shall be going away soon, I hope; you will not remain all your life in +such a little place as St. Ignace; try and forget what he has said." + +"I cannot. It is with me day and night. Tell me if it is true!" + +"Why should I tell you?" + +"Because I must know. Because, if a lie, such a tale must be traced +back from where it came--the black imagination of a depraved and +incorrigible villain. Because if true, if true----" his voice failed +him, and although it was now quite dark, Miss Clairville could detect +great excitement in his usually calm and pleasantly austere manner. + +She leant to him over the balcony. + +"But I cannot tell you here! I cannot go to you; will you then come to +me? There will be none upstairs at this hour in this house; they are +all gone to see the boat come in at the wharf. There is her whistle +now! Would you mind coming very much, Mr. Ringfield? Do you think it +wrong of me to ask you?" + +"Wrong, Miss Clairville?" + +"Improper, I mean. Even here there are the _convenances_, the +proprieties." + +"Proprieties! When we are talking of our immortal souls and of our +hopes of salvation! When truth is at stake, your character, your +future perhaps--think if that had been told to anyone else!" he +exclaimed half to himself. + +"Then you will come?" Miss Clairville's tone was full of a radiant +incredulity. She leant still farther towards him, and her eyes burned +into the surrounding darkness of the night. + +"I will come at once. I--if I meet anyone I can say that I am calling +on you to hear about your brother." + +She smiled, then frowned, in the dark. Would it be her lot to teach a +good man subtlety? Should she tell the truth? She had not long to +wait or think about it, for in five minutes Ringfield was knocking at +her door. Nothing subtle as yet looked forth from his earnest eyes, +and the grasp with which he took and held her hand was that of the +pastor rather than that of the lover, but the night was dark and +heavily warm, and although there were stars in the sky he did not look +at them. Jupiter was just rising, giving a large mellow light like a +house lamp, round and strong, and casting a shadow, but the fall of a +sable lock on Miss Clairville's white neck was already more to him. +They were soon seated side by side on the balcony. She had regained +something other usual manner. + +"You must not think that I am ungrateful for your interest in me," she +said. "I believe that you are a good man, a Christian I suppose you +call yourself, outside and above all creed, all ritual, the first I +have ever met. No, I am not forgetting Father Rielle. He did the best +he could for me, and Henry and others, but I could never follow the +rules of the Romish Church, although born and bred a Catholic. With +grand music one might stay in that communion, but not as our service is +rendered here. And then, the confession! That is all right when you +have nothing to confess, but not for me! Oh--Mr. Ringfield, why is it +I cannot confess to Father Rielle, but that I can or could to you?" + +"Then that story is true?" + +"What was the story? What did he say?" + +They talked now in whispers, and Ringfield told her in four short and +to him abhorrent words. "He said--you were his wife." + +Great was his relief when Pauline, starting from her seat, almost +screamed aloud her agitated reply. + +"No, it is not true! I never married him. That is--at least--no, I +entirely deny it. I am _not_ his wife. I am _not_ married to him." + +In his state of mind and inexperience he failed to notice the equivocal +nature of this denial. He heard the impassioned negatives; he saw +fear, resentment, and a sort of womanly repulsion in the frightened +gesture she flung upon the air, and what he wished to hear and prayed +to hear, that he heard. Crabbe then had deliberately lied perhaps, +considering his condition, he had only boastfully invented. + +"Thank God!" he ejaculated, standing up and taking Miss Clairville's +finely formed white hand in both of his own. "Thank God!" he repeated, +and, with restored confidence and renewed enthusiasm in all good works, +he seized the opportunity to speak of what was in his heart. "Now you +must listen to me. I believe, I honestly believe, that by His all-wise +and all-knowing ruling I have been sent here to help you and be your +friend. That letter I wrote to you--you received it I know, for I +heard about it. I went West from a sense of duty. I was not required, +and again the sense of duty brought me back to St. Ignace and--you." + +"Oh, not only me! You would have come back in any case. You say it +was Duty, not,--not----" Not Desire? If this were thought in some +vague and unapprehended shape, it was not spoken. Ringfield gave her +hand a strong and kindly pressure and let it fall. + +"It was duty, yes, duty revealed to me by my Maker, to serve and obey +whom is not only my duty but my whole desire and pleasure." + +"You really mean what you say in telling me this? It sounds like +things we read, like the little books they gave us at Sorel-en-haut. +_Mon Dieu_! but those little books! And one big one there was, a +story-book about a girl, all about a girl. A girl called Ellen, Ellen +something, I have forgotten." + +"That must have been 'The Wide, Wide World'. And you read that while +you were at school!" + +"Yes, when I was a young girl. I am afraid it didn't do me much good." + +These interchanges of simple talk marked the progress of their +friendship. Any fact about her past or present life, no matter how +trivial, was of astonishing interest to him. And to her, the knowledge +that she was already and swiftly, passionately, purely dear to a being +of Ringfield's earnest mould and serious mien, so different to the +other man who had come into her life, gave a sense of delicious triumph +and joy. They continued to talk thus, in accents growing momentarily +more tender, of many things connected with her youth and his calling, +and the fact that they kept their voices down so intimately low lent +additional zest and delight to the situation. Only when Ringfield +alluded directly to Edmund Crabbe did she show uneasiness. + +"You must give me the right to settle this affair with him," said her +visitor. "We cannot risk such statements being made to people of the +village, to such a man as Poussette, for example." + +"Oh--Poussette!" Miss Clairville found it possible and even pleasant +now to laugh. "Do you not know then all about Mr. Poussette? He is in +love with me, too, or so he says. Yes, I have had a great deal of +bother with him. That poor Mme. Poussette! It is not enough that one +is faded and worn and has lost one's only little child, but one must +also be _wished dead_, out of the way by one's husband. Ah--you are +startled, _mais c'est la belle verite_! It is a good thing to be a +clergyman, like you, Mr. Ringfield; you are removed from all these +_betises_, all these foolish imaginings. You do your work and look +neither to the right nor the left. How I wish I were like you! I only +pray, for I do pray sometimes, that no thought of me will ever darken +your young and ardent life; I only hope that no care for me will ever +turn you aside from your plain duty." + +"Do not, please," broke in Ringfield, pushing back his chair so loudly +that she was obliged to beg more caution, "use that tone to me. +Twenty-six is not so very young. I should have spoken and felt as I +feel and as I speak when I was twenty. So Poussette is added to your +list of admirers! Will it be Father Rielle himself next, I wonder? +Oh, Miss Clairville--I was right! The theatre is no place for you. I +ask you to leave it, to forsake it for ever. This your opportunity. +Do not go back to it. I do not, it is true, know anything about it +from actual experience, but I can gather that it presents, must +present, exceptional temptations. Will you not be guided by me? Will +you not take and act upon my advice?" + +"But the special troubles that beset me are here, not within the +theatre! If Poussette is silly, with his ridiculous attentions when he +thinks his wife is not looking, if the other person, if----" + +"You mean this man Crabbe?" + +She inclined her head; at the mention of the name all spirit seemed to +die out of her. + +"If he maligns me, slanders and lies about me, that is here--here at +St. Ignace, and not at the theatre. Why, then, do you expect me to +return here for good? I come back too often as it is. I should leave +here altogether, but that some influence, some fate, always draws me +back." + +"Whose influence? for with fate I will have nothing to do. God and a +man's self--with these we front the world, the flesh, and the Devil. +Crabbe's evil influence still! You knew him when he called himself by +another name?" + +"Yes, Mr. Edmund Hawtree. We, we---- I suppose you would call it a +flirtation. He was very different then, as you may believe." + +Jealousy leapt into Ringfield's breast, the first he had ever known, +and a common retort sprang to his lips. + +"I should hope so! I cannot bear to think of your having known him +well under any circumstances. The man is low! Whether drunk or sober +he has nothing to commend him, and I believe him to be utterly +irreclaimable and lost." + +"In this world perhaps. But not necessarily in the next? Do you +decline, then, to continue the work of reformation?" + +He winced, and upon recalling what he had said saw his error. "No, I +retract that. He is human, therefore a soul to be saved, as one of +God's creatures, but whether the man can be reinstated in society is a +doubtful matter. You are right to defend him, and I am sad only when I +grudge you those memories of him. You knew him then so very well?" + +She understood the pleading tone and she endeavoured to be candid, but +how explain certain things to a man of Ringfield's calibre? To +another, a glance, a smile, the inflection of a word, of a syllable, +and all would be clear. How was she to frame an explanation which +should receive his tacit and grave but unenlightened approval? How far +he could conjecture, disassociate, dissect, limit and analyse, weigh +and deduct, the various progresses in a crude amalgamation people call +Love, she did not know, and there lay her difficulty. + +"I will tell you what I can. I was quite young when I met Mr. Hawtree, +'Crabbe,' as he is now known. It is his second name. He had been +unfortunate in money affairs, I understood, and had not been trained to +any kind of work. It was after I returned from Sorel that I found him +here. He frequently came to visit Henry; they described themselves as +gentlemen together, and I suppose they were not wise company for one +another, but at first I did not take any notice. He fell in love with +me, and talked a great deal to me, improving my English as he called +it, and you can understand how little opportunity I had had of reading +or continuing my studies. I have no talent for the _menage_; besides, +Henry's methods had been long in practice, and I could not unchange +them, at the age of nineteen! Mr. Hawtree and I were thus thrown very +much together, yet one thing kept occurring which made me very +miserable. I found out that he was drinking, and Henry too! Then +another thing--my bad temper. Ah! how I suffered, suffered, in those +days with that man, Mr. Ringfield!" + +"I can well believe it." + +"And he with me! Perhaps some other kind of woman would have suited +him better, a timid, angelic, gentle little being who would have +appealed to him more. When we quarrelled he grew like all you English, +haughty and sneering--ah! when I think of it! And I changed to a +fury--the Clairville temper--and gave back even more, even worse, than +I got. But do not let us talk any more about it! You have discovered +what I would have hidden, and for my part I get on better when I make +myself forget it and him altogether." + +He was silent; new and conflicting ideas clashed in his brain, while +very close to him in the warm, fragrant night sat this alluring, sorely +tried and lonely creature, who soon found the silence insupportable. +To keep talking was safe; to be long silent impossible, since they +seemed to draw nearer and nearer with every moment, and soon it would +either be Ringfield's hand upon that dark lock he perceived adorning +her white neck, or her head with its crown of hair stealing tenderly +towards his shoulder. From such a precipitation of events they were +saved by timely recollection of their position and the sounds which +reached them from the road. The boat was leaving again, and they knew +they had been thus together for an hour. Ringfield rose. + +"There is now only the man himself to be seen and made to understand +that such stories about you must cease. I shall speak to him at once, +to-night perhaps, certainly to-morrow." + +At this she quailed and could not control herself; she laid her hands +on his arm and all the delicate art of the actress was called upon to +assist her pleading. + +"Oh!" she cried, "do you not see that it is better left alone? You +take my word--you take my word of honour with you this night--I was +never married to that man. Let it rest there. Do not speak with him +about me. I could not bear it! I should be so ill, so worried, so +unhappy. We scarcely see each other now; let it all be dropped and +forgotten. He--he--exaggerated, forgets---- Oh! I do not know how to +put it, but you must not speak of it. He did not know what he was +saying, you know that yourself." + +"That was what I thought at first, certainly." + +They remained standing; eye on eye and her firm hands still clasping +his arm. "You will promise me?" + +He reflected a moment and then gave her his promise. + +"On this condition, that if he speaks of it again, to my knowledge, to +anyone, anywhere, I must then confront him and prove it a lie on your +own showing." + +Miss Clairville, only too glad to have gained her point, readily +acceded, and Ringfield at once withdrew, fortunately without meeting +anyone on the stairs or verandah. And now once more for him prospects +were partly fair. Pauline's denial satisfied him; easily deceived on +such a score, he knew nothing of intermediate stages of unlicensed and +unsanctified affection. In his opinion women were either good or bad, +married or unmarried, and to find this coveted one free was enough. +The problem was how to manage the future; whether he would ever be in a +position to marry, for it had come to that, and whether Miss Clairville +would consent to leave the stage; as far as he was concerned the sooner +the better. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE PICNIC + + ".... The charm + Of pious sentiment diffused afar + And human charity and social love." + + +There is an idea which prevails among many thoughtful people, but which +is nevertheless a good deal of a fallacy, that in the complex and +congested life of cities greater opportunities for observation of +character can be found than in the country. Ringfield, for example, +would have combated this idea, feeling that he might have left college +and taken up his work in some large Western town, preaching every +Sunday to a numerous and flourishing congregation, and continued thus +for several years without encountering the strongly marked types he had +met within a few weeks at St. Ignace. It may be said in general of +life in cities of the new world that dwellers in such populous centres +are apt to undergo considerable change of character; their natural +traits become altered or turned aside, dissimulation and caution are +engendered by force of circumstances, while conformity to usage and +imitation enter largely into daily conduct. Thus, environment becomes +stronger than heredity; respectability at least is demanded, +individualities disappear, and the natural man is outwardly vanquished. +In the village, family failings, vices and virtues remain on +exhibition, as it were, for years, known to all about. The blend here +and there is recognized; individuals are often remarkable for +peculiarities or defects of moral and physical construction, and +heredity is strong. The simplicity of surrounding life supplies an +impressive background for the elemental passions which reveal +themselves in primitive or aboriginal force. Absence of standards, +absence of amusements, the lack of contrast, these are a few of the +causes that contribute towards the self-centred existence led by most +inhabitants of rural communities. To prove this, one has but to think +of a cripple, or a dwarf, or a drunken man, or a maniac; also, to +revert to pleasanter images, of an unusual flower or animal, or of +convincing and conspicuous personal beauty. What is a cripple in the +city? He is passed by without a glance, for there are, alas! many like +him. What is a dwarf? He only suggests the unnatural or unpleasant; +the last circus or a fairy-book. What is a drunken man in a city? Or +what a poor maniac? Officers of the police, and places of correction, +physicians and nurses are at hand; the suffering and the evildoer are +taken away and we know them no more. + +But if we change a little part of speech and write the cripple, and +proceed to think of the cripple in a village, or the dwarf, or the +drunken man or the maniac, we instantly perceive how their presence +must greatly colour the limited society in which they exist; how they +must either amuse or disgust, arouse sympathy or create fear, as the +case may be, and although a calla lily and a red-blooming cactus, a +parrot or Persian kitten, are scarcely regarded as curiosities or +rarities in the city, they may easily come to be regarded as such in +the village. + +From uninteresting and unimpersonal generalizations and aggregations +such as dwarfs, cripples, lunatics, cats and parrots, we turn to the +individuals of the species and behold--it is now The Cripple, The +Dwarf, The Maniac, and so on, and how profoundly important the +appearance and conduct, habits and dwellings of these--our +companions--immediately become. We cannot get away from them, nor they +from us. And the beautiful young girl! She is often safer in the +city, where a kind of dove-like wisdom soon informs and protects, than +in the lonely and silent places of the wilderness. The beauty that was +fatally conspicuous in the village finds its rival and its level in the +town. + +Ringfield had certainly had his full share of ministering to the +decadent and the unhappy at St. Ignace, and he was therefore very +pleased one day to be called on by the Rev. Mr. Abercorn, incumbent of +St Basil's at Hawthorne, the latter a small settlement, about nine +miles distant, in which the English element predominated. Once a year +the congregation of St. Basil's gave a picnic tea, when members of +surrounding denominations met tranquilly on common ground and neutral +territory. Macaulay's description of the peculiar position of the +Church of England is nowhere truer than in some isolated districts like +these Lower Canadian hamlets. She does, indeed, occupy a happy middle +place between the unadorned wooden temples with whitewashed windows of +the sects, and the large, aggressive stone churches of the Romish +faith. Were her clergy as alive to the situation and the peculiar +wants of the _peuple gentil-homme_ as they ought to be, one would meet +with greater numbers of adherents to the Episcopal ritual. + +Mr. and Mrs. Abercorn were fully in sympathy with the countryside, and +acted themselves as runners and scouts in connexion with the picnic +tea, the lady seconding her husband in the most able and sagacious +manner, the latter bringing to his duties all those charms of culture +and presence which ministers of the Episcopal Church so often possess, +even when not too richly dowered with profound theological learning or +magnetic gifts of oratory. Moral and social wisdom, tact and +experience of the world, often atone for intellectual shortcomings, +especially in rural districts, and Ringfield was compelled to admit +that he was not the only worker in the neighbourhood capable of +understanding the wants of the people. Mr. Abercorn was about fifty, +but as enthusiastic and energetic as a much younger man. + +"I knew something of French life and character before I came out here. +My wife is a native of Jersey. Our severe climate with its long, +rigorous winter and short but hot summer has helped to form the +national character; also the scenery. I mean that the beauty of the +place, of all these fine but lonely, austere rivers and forests creates +a melancholy, reflective tendency, and this makes it difficult in the +matter of recreation, which last is what so many of our people require, +particularly the French. I would have amusements going all the time if +I could afford it, but that, of course, is not feasible; the _joie de +vivre_ is only to be arrived at modestly, and in our small way we try +to make our picnic tea a success. We hope you will come over and join +us on that occasion. We shall be having it later than usual this year, +one reason for this being the fact that such serious illness exists in +your own parish. I refer to Mr. Henry Clairville. It would not do to +have much visiting between the parishes. And how is he getting on, for +I suppose you hear all about him from time to time." + +Ringfield, as it happened, knew very little of what was transpiring at +the Manor House, but remarked that the worst was over, that the wife of +Poussette was still absent from her home, and that Miss Clairville had +not returned to her vocation. + +"Ah," ejaculated Mr. Abercorn thoughtfully, "a peculiar family, a +peculiar family indeed; but they are very fortunate in having you here. +Oh, yes, I am not in the least bigoted, you know,--can't afford to be +down here,--and I only hope you'll stay and make a great success of the +new church. If everything goes well, we'll hold our picnic on the 1st +of November, sort of Harvest Festival and Thanksgiving all in one, and +either I or Mrs. Abercorn will drive over for you, as I suppose you +will not be setting up a horse just yet." + +On the day appointed Ringfield was sitting dully enough in his room +over the carpenter's shop. Pauline was lingering on at Poussette's, +partly because she had no other place to go, and partly because +Ringfield was near. Their relations had not outwardly progressed since +the evening on her balcony; several other meetings had taken place, but +once assured that she was free, Ringfield settled to his work, +preferring to put the whole episode from him for a while, until he +could feel satisfied that she might be approached on the subject of the +theatre. Thus their feelings were like Tennyson's wood, all in a mist +of green with nothing perfect; meanwhile only a couple of planks +separated them at this very instant, and, as usual, his thoughts were +hovering about her at this hour, about half-past one o'clock, when he +heard his name called by a younger member of the Gagnon family (a +numerous one of five boys and four little girls), and descended to meet +Mrs. Abercorn. This lady was taking the opportunity, in her role of +auxiliary parson and general parochial assistant, of putting in a good +word for Hawthorne and St. Basil's as she sat in her buggy at the door, +surrounded by Poussette, Martin, and eight or ten children. + +An intractable little mare pawed and shuffled in an uncertain frame of +mind, apparently viewing with special disfavour the fiddling of Antoine +Archambault, who had been hanging around the village ever since +Pauline's return. Glancing consciously up, Ringfield thought he +perceived a white hand and gleaming bracelet at the window of his old +room. + +"We have a rough drive before us, with a bad four miles in one place," +said Mrs. Abercorn, "so we'll get away at once. You haven't been over +to Hawthorne yet, Mr. Ringfield, how is that? But never mind, you'll +be one of us after this afternoon at any rate. Do you play croquet?" + +Looking rather astonished, Ringfield said "_No_," and the emphasis led +Mrs. Abercorn to smile as she observed him more closely. She herself +was one of those people of good birth who instinctively ask, no matter +where they are placed, of everybody they meet, "Is she a _lady_?" "Is +he a _gentleman_?" but who, in spite of this inherent and clannish +trait, manage to make friends with the mammon of No-Family. She was +literally as broad as she was high; short hair, turning grey, was +fantastically curled about her clever, dark eyes; she had two hats, one +for summer and one for winter, the latter a man's old seal cap; her +skirts and jackets were skimp and dowdy, and her features and +complexion unattractive, yet the authority and ease, the whole manner +of the true lady made her a delightful companion, and she would have +been equally diverting and diverted at a Royal Audience in Buckingham +Palace or at a bean-feast on an Indian reserve. She displayed +ornaments that were not precisely jewels, the value of which was of +genealogical order; thus, she wore her grandfather's fobs and seals, +her mother's bracelets of bog-oak and lava, and her brooch contained +the hair of her only child, long deceased. She had had one +dinner-dress for ten years of black "uncrushable grenadine," cut +square, and it was quite true that she was the niece of an earl and the +daughter of an admiral, and that she had eloped with the Rev. Marcus +Abercorn eighteen years ago. + +Ringfield had never met any one like her before, but in spite of her +accent, so extremely English that in the Canadian country it was almost +certain to be dubbed "affected," and in spite of a bright worldliness +he found unusual in a clergyman's wife, he liked her very much and +watched her manipulation of the mare--Flora Macdonald--with great +interest, and not a little apprehension. + +The bad four miles turned out to consist of alternate patches of +ancient corduroy road, the logs exposed for a foot or so above the +soil, and a long hogs-back of dyke-veined limestone, the ridges of spar +and quartz cutting deep into the rock. + +Mrs. Abercorn sighed eloquently for the lanes of Old England as the +mare pranced, and the buggy flew over the various obstructions, bumping +and swinging in a reckless manner Ringfield had never seen equalled. + +"We are a little late," said his aristocratic charioteer, her hat +crooked and her mouth quite as vicious as Flora's when touched up with +a ragged whip, "but we'll be in time for a game of croquet before tea. +We have the tea at five, because it's beginning to darken so early, and +then we have a nice little show in the school-house: Marcus and I both +believe in amusing the people. So you see it's not exactly a picnic, +but quite a lot of things put together. You'll see presently." + +And he did. Father and mother of their people, Mr. and Mrs. Abercorn +had instituted a remarkable series of "events," as they say on regatta +programmes--nautical, terpsichorean, athletic, musical and +histrionic--grouped under the head of "games" and the large and +delighted crowd drawn from several parishes rewarded their cheerful and +untiring efforts. The Rector was not only all things to all men but to +many women and numerous children as well, and Ringfield noted that, +unlike the West, the men assembled were nearly all old men; there was a +marked scarcity of boys and youths, and these old men appeared to be +many years older than they had any right to appear. Many of them +possessed but a couple of sound teeth apiece, others had retained the +lower set more or less horribly intact, while a single tusk adorned the +upper gum. Absence of regular visits to the dentist, or indeed of any +visits at all, had wrought this ruin in faces also wrinkled and +weather-beaten by exposure to the strenuous climate. The women showed +to better advantage than the men, and the French were more +prepossessing and better preserved than the English, especially in the +matter of teeth, owing probably to a steady diet of onions and +comparative lack of meat. + +Diversity among the ladies included the fat, motherly looking ones, +several of whom were spinsters; the young, too-smartly dressed +daughters of farmers, possessing very little beauty, but of good height +and figure; one person clothed entirely in black silk and very +conscious of a new kind of watch, of gold and colours and small, pinned +to her left bosom; and last, a couple of conventional Englishwomen +staying at the Rectory. + +It was natural that Mrs. Abercorn should desire to present to her +friends and a few of the "quality" so good-looking a young man as +Ringfield, and as soon as the buggy had been tied up under a grove of +maples, he was led about by the energetic queen of the feast, whose +attire, weird enough while driving, had now culminated in a highly +rational although unusual aspect. Everything upon her partook of an +unpleasing and surely unnecessary brevity; thus her figure was too +short for her breadth, and her skirts too short for her figure; her +jacket was too short over her hips, and her gloves too short over her +wrists; her hair was too short on her neck and her veil too short over +her nose. Yet the rakish hat settled, and the fobs and seals shaken +out, she appeared mentally fresh and charming, and the rich cadences of +her cultivated voice gave Ringfield pleasure, slightly recalling Miss +Clairville's accents, and he was happy in experiencing for the first +time in his life that amiable naturalness, inimitable airiness, ease +and adaptability, which characterize the Anglican clergy and their +method of doing things. Attenuated tennis, Lilliputian Badminton, +swings, a greased pole, potato and sack races, fiddling, and dancing on +a platform, for the French, all these he passed in review with Mrs. +Abercorn and the English ladies, presently participating in a merry +game of croquet on a rocky, uneven, impossible kind of ground. The +Rev. Marcus, and the person in black silk joined in this game of +croquet, the latter so exclusive that it gave Ringfield the feeling +that people must have when they are chosen for a _quadrille d'honneur_. + +Without relief or intermission the amusements held sway till about +half-past four, when even the quality tired of their croquet; the day, +though bright, was cold, and a bonfire on the rocks was greatly +patronized by the very old and very young, while distant preparations +for tea were viewed, at first with stealthy, half-reluctant admiration, +and then with open restlessness. The patriarchs--toothless and +wrinkled, yet not a man of them over fifty-eight--stood around in +expectant silent clusters, and also in their best clothes, of which a +great deal of faded red neck-tie and pepper and salt trousers seemed +chiefly to strike the eye. + +The tea was to be served in the large barn adjoining the church, +surrounded on two sides by tall plantations of Indian corn, a rough +kind known as horse corn, and not used at table. Very soon those +engaged in the games fell away by twos and threes, and the rector and +his wife gaily beating the covers afforded by forest and grove, all +gradually converged to the meeting point outside the big doors of the +barn, through which were now passing the wives and daughters of the +plough, bearing coarse bedroom jugs of tea and coffee, plates of cakes, +pies, and sandwiches. The people waiting thus in patient content at +the doors were orderly and sober, and none ventured to enter till their +rector, having unearthed even the remotest and shyest member of his +flock, advanced in florid hurry and taking his wife and Ringfield with +him, passed under the hanging branches of maize, asparagus, fern and +crabapples which decorated the great door. The floor of the barn, +although partially cleared, was still half full of straw, and flecks of +it flew through the air as the people trooped in, decently awed but +amused too, for the ripple of lowered laughter and pleased hum of +voices resounded throughout the building. The walls, draped with flags +and coloured curtains, held sheaves of grasses and several lamps in +brackets at the sides, and the food, good, plain, with plenty of it, +adorned the two long tables that ran down the middle. Ringfield, at +the head of a table, was comparing the scene with some Harvest Homes of +his youth, and wondering who would start the Doxology, when he heard +the rector say, standing a long way off at the end of the other table:-- + +"We have the Rev. Mr. Ringfield of St. Ignace with us this afternoon, +and I have no doubt that he is already as anxious as the rest of you +for a share of the good things we see here before us, so I am going to +ask him to say--ah--Grace, then we can fall to. Mr. Ringfield, will +you be kind enough to ask the blessing?" + +There was a pause, not because Ringfield was unready on these occasions +nor because of any fear lest his special kind of intercessory +gastronomic prayer might fail to carry conviction with it, but on +account of the intrusion of two belated arrivals down by the door. He +could not distinguish very clearly, but there seemed to be some one +either invalided or very young in a basket-chair, wheeled in by a young +woman of twenty-two or twenty-three, who entering brusquely, on a run, +and laughing, was silenced, and the chair and its occupant pushed back +against the wall. This slight but untimely interruption over, +Ringfield gazed solemnly around--it was already growing a little dim in +the barn--and spoke as follows, with head thrown back, and closed +eyes:-- + +"O Lord, the giver of all good things, who sendest seed-time and +harvest, rain and sun on the fruits of the earth and crownest the year +with fatness, look down on us at this time and bless us." At this +point the Anglicans present sat down under the impression that the +"grace" was over. They rose again in confusion as Ringfield +continued:-- + +"We thank Thee for these, Thy temporal blessings vouchsafed unto us as +a people. We have Thy pledge in the book of Thy Holy Word, that while +the earth remaineth, seed-time and harvest shall not fail. We thank +Thee for the fields white with harvest. We thank Thee for our great +and beautiful country; for its beneficent laws, its opportunities, its +great and unequalled privileges, and we pray for our rulers, for all in +authority, for all engaged in the ministry of whatever denomination, +for the Queen and the Royal Family. We pray for him whose duty it is +to go in and out before this assembly; grant him wisdom and spiritual +strength; bless also the partner of his life work, and may their united +labours prevail and resound to Thy glory and the honour of Thy name, +and while we remember at this time to thank Thee with full hearts for +these temporal gifts, let us be swift to remember also Thy choicer, +greater, holier gift of Free Salvation; Mercy, Pardon, Peace, and +glorious relief from sin and its thraldom--these may be ours for the +asking. O Lord, if any sinner lurk among us, if any poor sinner be at +this board to-night, search him, O Lord, and purge his mortal body, try +it with Thy true refiner's fire. As our snows are pure, so let us be +pure. As our waters are deep yet clear, let our minds be clear of +evil, and rid of all offence; and for all who by reason of sin, or +pain, or sickness, or any other infirmity either of body or of mind +cannot be with us at this time, we pray that Thou wilt comfort, uplift, +forgive and relieve them. All--for Christ's sake--Amen." + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +"ANGEEL!" + + "Like a sheep enthralled + 'Mid thorns and brambles." + + +On the conclusion of this address, which was Ringfield's idea of a +"grace" and which was modelled on the Methodist formula customary on +such occasions, the people, whose appetites had been held over-long in +check, took their seats with expressions of relief and in some cases +with audible grunts and whispers of annoyance. The truth was, +Ringfield had exhibited a want of tact in expatiating in an eloquent +prayer on things better left alone, from the village point of view. It +was bad enough to occupy so much time when already it was darkening and +soon the lamps would have to be lighted; it was bad enough to pray in +public for the rector and his wife; it was entirely inexcusable to hint +at the presence of a sinner in their midst, at the very board now +covered with the home-made dainties cooked and sent in by the ladies of +Hawthorne. In itself perhaps the prayer, though trite and redundant +(Ringfield was not in his best vein, no longer single-minded), was +eloquent and pointed, and the reference to the snows and rivers of the +country extremely poetic and suggestive, yet it was not in accordance +with the best taste, although prompted by the best feeling. The rector +and his wife, ignoring their own sentiments, made haste to smooth away +the little difficulty that had thus unexpectedly arisen, and in a few +minutes all was in a pleasant clatter and babble with the pouring of +tea, cutting of huge three-decker cakes, and passing of large, solid +plates holding pyramids of equally large and solid sandwiches. +Ringfield, devoting himself to the English visitors and the person in +black silk, who was the widow of a deceased lumber king correctly +reputed to have left an enormous fortune, was by the nature of things +the last to perceive that he had wounded the delicate sensibilities of +the company, and therefore he made a good meal, unconscious of the +comments lower down his table and also around the rector. + +"It's always the way with them Methodists," said one speaker in a +careful undertone, a venerable body of fifty or so, with four teeth +left in his head, bent, bald and wrinkled. "They pride themselves on +what they call 'extem-pore' speaking." He gave the word only three +syllables of course. "Why, it's mostly out of the Prayer Book anyway! +He said 'any other infirmity,' did you notice? And we say, 'any other +adversity,' don't we? Well, where's the difference?" + +"The tairms are not precisely in the nature of synonyms," remarked the +schoolmaster, a Scotchman of sandy and freckled appearance, who was +cutting a sandwich into small pieces with his penknife and then +frugally conveying them to his mouth with the aid of the same useful +implement. "But in a sairtain sense ye can _call_ them synonyms." + +"It's out of course and all irregular like to pray for the Queen and +the Royal Family on a day like this. 'Twould be best keep that for +Sundays where it belongs," said the wife of the ancient who had spoken +first. + +"What can ye expect, ma'am, when they come to it without their notes? +Stands to reason, if any man's going to preach earnest, _earnest_, mind +you, he'll require some notes or heads jotted down, clear and easy to +be got at, before him." This was the opinion of another elderly man, +but of a fat and comfortable if blustering variety, who had come out +from the English provinces thirty years before as cook with a regiment, +and was now the Hawthorne butcher and general store-keeper, also +accounted a rich man. + +"But that's not the point," he went on with husky and stertorous +fervour. "The point is not whether what he said was well said or ill +said; the point is, he should never have spoke them words at all. +Point? To almost point the finger at us sitting around this hospitable +board declaring we were all sinners! So we are, all of us. The Litany +says so, don't it? Don't it say, 'miserable sinners'?" + +"It does, it does," murmured a sympathetic female engaged in feeding +two out of eleven kinds of cake to a child on her lap. + +"And the rector leaves it there, where it ought to be left. In my +opinion, ma'am, it don't do no good to pray nor preach too direct. +It's casting a stone, that's what it is, it's casting a stone." + +"Perhaps he was nervous, poor young man, at seeing so many people," +said the young mother of the child who was crumbling the cake all over +its mouth and fingers and dress without swallowing any, having +previously been regaled with maple sugar and molasses candy outside, +and consequently not feeling very hungry. "Perhaps he has heard about +Angeel." + +The latter was the common pronunciation of Angele, the name of the +little girl in the basket-chair who was engaged like the rest in eating +and drinking in company with her nurse not far from Mr. Abercorn. + +At the word "Angeel" several warning coughs around her, winks, nudges +and a kick under the table, made the young woman so flurried that she +slapped the child for not eating properly, and the child immediately +beginning to cry, a diversion was created, but not before Ringfield had +overheard a few remarks touching his recent prayer, not exactly +flattering to his self-esteem. Soon the conversation lapsed as the +piles of cake, custard and pumpkin pies and jugs of tea were depleted; +and Mr. Abercorn, upon whom the quiet and gathering gloom had a +depressing effect, jumped up and asked for volunteers to assist in +lighting the lamps. + +"We usually get through without artificial aid to our eyes and our +mouths, but that is when the picnic tea is held in October. We are at +least a fortnight late this year. We shall want the tall men for +this--Jacobs, Enderby, Anselme--you take these three lamps on the other +side while I find somebody to help me with mine." + +"On the score of height, at least," said Ringfield pleasantly, leaving +his seat and striding down the centre of the barn, "I can offer my +services. Which are the ones to be lighted? These two and the one +just over our heads?" + +"Very good of you, I'm sure," responded the rector briefly. "They are +quite steady on their brackets, I suppose, men? Now shut those doors; +we don't want any draught. Be careful with the matches, everybody!" + +The others had got to work first, and along their side of the wall, +Anselme, Jacobs, and Enderby, the butcher, slowly lit their three +lamps, when, Ringfield, busy over a refractory wick and just in the act +of applying a match, in turning his head, saw directly beneath him the +basket-chair and its occupant as well as the young woman in charge of +it. + +The shock of perceiving what was in reality more of a Thing than a +person, being an unfortunate child of about nine years of age, +otherwise well formed, but with a weak and hanging head enlarged very +much beyond its normal size and yet with a pair of shrewd eyes and a +smiling mouth, told upon his nerves. He started, leant too heavily on +the bracket, and in a second the lighted lamp, as yet without a +chimney, fell on the floor. + +In another second the straw and decorations were all in a blaze, the +barn full of smoke and commotion; and he was conscious only of himself +and the rector wildly stamping, grovelling, and pushing with might and +main for what seemed hours of fear and suspense. The men tore the +great doors open; there were, happily, no corridors to tread, no stairs +to descend; the women and children first, and then their husbands and +fathers, rushed out, mostly uninjured, into the cool twilight air, and +when Ringfield came to himself he found that in some way he too was +outside the barn, holding on to the basket-chair, nearly hysterical +from the fright he had sustained, but still endeavouring to calm the +dreadful child and its nurse, both of whom were shrieking wildly. + +"Angeel! Angeel!" cried the girl, and then in French: "Oh, what would +they say to me if anything happened to you! It doesn't matter about +me, only you, Angeel, only you!" + +Ringfield looked around, dazed. The comfort, jollity, and abandon of +the picnic tea were things of the past. The barn had been saved and +the fire was out, but the groups of excited, tearful women and +coatless, dishevelled men, the rector with one hand badly burnt, Mrs. +Abercorn loudly deploring the loss of her hat and an antique +bracelet--all was forlorn, changed, miserable! And all this was his +fault, his doing, the result of his carelessness! He could scarcely +frame the words with which to deeply lament the unfortunate accident, +but his very genuine contrition softened the rector's heart even while +he felt some resentment at the sudden fatality which had spoiled the +day and in his own case was destined to leave a very unpleasant +remembrance. + +"The question is," said Mr. Abercorn, talking to Enderby and the +schoolmaster, "whether we are to go on with the rest of the programme. +I'm the only one, happy to say, at all injured, and already the pain is +better. Plunge in, men, and get out all the burnt stuff and tidy the +tables. It might have been worse; thank God, none were hurt! And we +mustn't let Mr. Ringfield feel badly about it. The bracket was weak, +I'm sure it was weak, and he's a stranger among us. What are you +saying, Enderby? A judgment on him? Nonsense. I thought you had more +sense. Ask him to remain for the evening and everything shall go on as +we intended to have it." + +But Ringfield did not care to stay. Everything was against him; for +the first time in his life he felt himself a failure,--in the way. How +had he come to be so careless? Well he knew, for the face of the +dreadful child, in spite of its deformity, evinced a strong, strong, +insistent resemblance to a face he knew. The dark hair and eyes, the +shape of the forehead, the way the hair grew on the forehead--where had +he seen it all reproduced not so very long ago? Miss Clairville's +expression, colouring, and animated play of gesture lived again in this +mysterious child. + +About seven o'clock, just as Mrs. Abercorn's "nice little show" was +beginning, he took his way home. The path lay along the darkest road +he had ever seen; there was neither moon nor stars, and the blackness +of a country road bordered by dense forests can only be understood by +those who have travelled at such a time, and for the nine miles that he +plodded stupidly along--for he declined to wait to be driven--given up +to sombre and sinister thoughts, he was a most unhappy man. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE HEART OF POUSSETTE + + "Yet is the creature rational--endowed + With foresight, hears too, every Sabbath day, + The Christian promise with attentive ear, + Nor disbelieves the tidings which he hears, ..." + + +About a week later, Ringfield was descending the hilly road behind +Poussette's at four o'clock in the afternoon, when he discerned a new +arrival at the wharf, and as the tourist season was over, the boat only +making a few occasional trips, he was curious concerning the lady who, +showily if neither correctly nor expensively attired, was looking about +her in disappointment and consternation. Poussette himself hurried out +in his character of host; his manner was more than usually warm and +familiar as he took her bag and umbrella, and Ringfield soon learnt +that she was Miss Sadie Cordova from Montreal, although originally from +New York, a member of the Theatre of Novelties, who had come to pay +Miss Clairville a visit. This new acquisition to St. Ignace society +was more consistently lively than Pauline, not being troubled with +moods, and she brightened the place up very considerably in various +directions; she did not share Pauline's room, for Poussette gallantly +led her to the apartment vacated by Mme. Poussette, but the two friends +were constantly together, and Ringfield at first rejoiced in the advent +of the gay Cordova, as it intimated a sensible enjoyment of life on +Pauline's part in place of moping and brooding, and as it also appeared +to keep Edmund Crabbe off the premises. But these two good ends were +gained at the expense of a third, for the constant and animated, even +tender attentions of the host were altogether too obvious, although at +first no complaint could be made, since so much feminine society served +to keep Poussette also steady and sober. Still, card-playing in the +mornings, noisy operatic music in the afternoons (there was no piano, +only an old American organ, in the house) and coquettish scufflings, +dancing, and conscious giggling _tete-a-tetes_ in the hall every long, +lamp-lit evening soon became wearisome, and Ringfield, made vaguely +uneasy, took on himself to reprove Poussette. + +The place was the bar--always the most attractive spot in the house, +for the Indian guide, a sober, worthy man, kept it absolutely clean and +tidy, and there were comfortable _habitant_ chairs and a wide hearth +for logs. These were burning brightly now, as the first November snows +were falling, and while Ringfield expostulated with Poussette, the +latter spread out his fat hands to the blaze. Upon the little finger +of the left hand sat a square seal ring of pale cornelian, and as +Ringfield looked he clearly saw the capital letter "C" picked out in +red upon the white. New and hateful pangs, suspicions, jealousies, +assailed him; he was sure that this must be Pauline's ring, although he +had never noticed her wearing it, and the thoughts thereby engendered +did not tend to make him listen calmly to Poussette's line of defence. +So far from being offended at the clerical interest in his affairs, the +Frenchman was immensely flattered and encouraged to speak out. + +"And are you quite sure," said Ringfield in conclusion, "are you +perfectly certain that Miss Cordova knows you are a married man? In my +opinion there is small harm in the lady! the poor, thoughtless creature +is too much occupied with her silly clothes and music and trivial +passing of the time to work lasting mischief, but I remember that she +follows a godless calling--she is an actress and has been one longer +than Miss Clairville. You must be careful. It is time Mme. Poussette +was relieved from her charge and came home." + +"But how--come home? Come at this place again? Bigosh--but that will +not do, Mr. Ringfield--at all, sir! Beeg fuss, sure--my wife come at +this place so soon after leave nurse Henry Clairville! Dr. Renaud will +tell you that. No, sir,--Madame is come no more on me, on St. Ignace +at all. When she leave me, go nurse seeck man down with the 'Pic,' she +is no more for me. _Voyez_--m'sieu, I am tired of my wife. I shall +try get a divorce." + +Ringfield was astounded. "You, Poussette! A divorce! From that poor, +unhappy woman who has done you no harm, and will have nothing to live +upon? How can you do such a thing? Why, you must not let your mind +dwell on such a thing for an instant! I do not believe in divorce, or +at least only in rare and exceptional cases, and yours is not one of +these. You understand me--your wife may be delicate, even afflicted, +but no man puts his wife away for these reasons. All the more you must +cherish her, comfort her, keep her by you. If she grew worse you would +be justified in putting her, as we say, under restraint, or in the care +of those best fitted to look after her, but even then you would remain +her husband. That is the unwritten law of our and of all true +religion." + +Poussette spat into the fire and considered. Father Rielle had told +him this in almost the same words many times over; he had left the +Catholic communion for that reason, and had hoped for better things +from the young minister. + +"Don't Methodists divorce?" said this nineteenth-century rural Henry +the Eighth. + +Ringfield moved uneasily in his chair. "They may--they can--they +do--but as I have told you, the causes must be exceptional ones. +Bitter tragedy--abhorrent false conduct, you understand me?" + +The other nodded. "My wife--nothing like that the matter with her. +All the contree, all the reever know Mme. Natalie Poussette--good +woman, sure. No--but see now, m'sieu, now I am talking, and I tell you +my trouble. I'm not so bad _garcon_, you know; kind of fond of drink +now and then--I 'pologize, 'pologize, m'sieu, for you see me a leetle +bit dhrunk. Now--understand. I'm by nature a most loving kind of man, +and I'm fond of leetle children. Yes, sir, bigosh, _excusez_ a leetle +bit of swear--but that is my nature, that is me, and I would like, sir, +some leetle babee of my own. I make quite a bit of monee, m'sieu, with +the 'otel and the mill, and a leetle bet and a leetle horses. +_Bien_--what you say? Very well. What must I do with this +monee--while I live, and if I die? 'Give it to the Church,' Father +Rielle, he say. 'No, sir,' I say!" + +And Poussette jammed a couple of smouldering logs with his heel; they +instantly knit together and sent out a big crackling shower of sparks +that caused both men to retire their chairs farther from the hearth. + +A suspicion crossed Ringfield's mind. "Did you send your wife to nurse +Henry Clairville or did she go of her own accord?" + +"_Certainement_--my wife go herself. Dr. Renaud--come for her. She +will not take the 'pic'. She will take nothing. She will nevaire die, +that woman!" + +The remark was saved from being distasteful to the listener by the fact +that it was given with a melancholy despairing gesture, which to a less +serious person than Ringfield might have been amusing. But his sense +of humour, originally meagre, was not developing at St. Ignace as fast +as it might, and he saw nothing humorous in this view of madame's +immunity from disease. Before he could frame a reply, Poussette went +on:-- + +"So you see, I like you, Mr. Ringfield, and I'm going to pay you good +monee, and I believe you--good Christian man, and I want you to help me +get a divorce. Mme. Poussette (you can say like this to the +Government)--Mme. Natalie Poussette, poor woman--she is so delicate, so +fonny, so--so ill, she cannot have any leetle babee; no leetle children +play round their fader--that's me, Amable Poussette, beeg man, rich +man, good Methodist, built a fine church on top of the Fall. So this +Mister Poussette after many years live with his wife, after long time +he wants to marry another woman and have plenty small babee, play round +in the summertime (here Poussette hushed his voice) under the beeg +trees, and in the water, learn to swim in the reever, splash like old +duck, old feesh! Many a time I feel like go on the dhrunk. Well sir, +nice, bright, young wife, sing, act, dance--we'd have beeg tam +together, and I'd dhrink nothing but tea, sure! Go to Morreall, buy +_tiquette_ on the theatre, ride on the street car, make transfer to +Hochelaga Park, get out, have nice glass beer--just one, m'sieu--go on +the _boutiques_, buy nice bonnett, eh? I have monee to do like that, +but [with the national shrug] I have no wife. I am tole there is +everything very fonny there all year round, but me--I have only been +there two, three tam; no good go alone, meet bad company, get on the +dhrunk then, sure. Bigosh--_excusez_, Mr. Ringfield, there's nothing +like young, handsome wife and plenty babee keep their father straight. +Eh? So I tell you what I want to do. I will be for selling this +place; get three thousand dollar for it; go to Morreall every winter; +perhaps go on that Hotel Champlain or some other nice _maison pension_ +and have big tam--what do you say? That's no bad thing--" Poussette +was very earnest here--"for me--to wish young wife, clever wife, and +leetle babee play round! Before I have the hairs gray, or lose what I +have. _Regardez un peu, m'sieu_!" + +And Ringfield could not refuse to examine the fine head of black hair +thrust towards him. He was touched in spite of clerical scruples. + +"No, no, certainly not a bad thing," he said gently, "not at all an +unnatural thing. I think I understand, Poussette, I can see----" and +Ringfield seemed to feel something in his throat, at any rate he +coughed and hesitated. "I can see that your position has its +difficulties and its--its trials. But, Poussette, we all have those. +We all have to deny ourselves in some way, in some unexpected quarter. +We cannot always have what we want, that is, in fact, at the root of +all religious feeling, and, if I am not mistaken, at the root of all +religious belief as well. If the great Creator of the universe has had +to suffer and deny Himself, as we know, in the past, has He not still +to suffer as He looks on at the wickedness and sinful passions of the +sons of men? The universe is not absolutely happy, perfect--would that +it were! And so this law of suffering runs through everything and +assails everybody. None can hope to escape. We--ministers of the +Gospel--we do not question this; we recognize that it is so, and all we +can do is to impress it upon you who listen to us. I have tried to do +this; I have preached upon this--that to each individual man, woman and +child, there comes--there must and will come a time, when material +success, health, wealth and happiness are non-important, and when moral +issues, when duty, character and conduct are the great essential facts +of life to be met and grappled with. You--Poussette--have been no +exception to this rule in the past--you know the habit of life to which +I refer--and now here is this new trial, this new difficulty about your +wife. Even were I able to do anything for you--because it is a lawyer, +a notary you require, not a minister--I could have nothing to do with +your marrying again. That--I must tell you plainly--is out of the +question. It is not good for man--some men--to live alone; my Church, +my Bible tell me this, and may be I am learning to know it from +experience of such cases as yours; but once married, and married to one +in whom there is no fault, you must not seek to lightly undo what God +and the sacraments of the Church in which you were united have wrought. +I fear, Poussette, that in leaving Father Rielle and coming to me, you +were not acting honestly, openly." + +Poussette, in admiration of his hero's beautiful pastoral diction, felt +no resentment and exhibited no temper. "No fault!" he exclaimed. "Ah, +but there--that is not so, Mr. Ringfield. Look, sir, look now, there +is fault enough--beeg fault--what I have said. That is enough, and I +have plenty monee to make it more than enough." + +"Money--money!" Ringfield exclaimed in his turn, "The root of many +kinds of evil. How much money have you, my friend? You are accounted +rich, as it goes in St. Ignace, at Bois Clair, in Hawthorne, but in +Quebec, in Three Rivers, in Montreal--no! You would soon find the +difference. The rich man of the country might easily become the poor +man of the town; living is expensive there--you might find your +business here--I mean the mill--not pay so well with you absent; in +short, Poussette, you would be foolish to change your way of life! It +is not worth your while to leave St. Ignace, but I know who ought to +go, to be sent to the right about pretty quickly too, and that is--this +man, Edmund Crabbe. What do you think of helping me to get him away? +He's a public nuisance in spite of his education, and we should all do +better without him." + +Ringfield was always torn by painful, shameful jealousy when he thought +of the Englishman, and his entire nature appeared to change. He could +not have called him "Hawtree" or "Mr." for his life; that savoured of +gentility and the fervid past when the man was perhaps a picturesque +figure, quoting the English classics in the guise of an unfortunate +exile. Besides, if he fathomed Poussette's feelings correctly, the +latter in his own jealousy of Crabbe might be found a powerful ally. +The plain truth was--three men wanted the same woman; and vaguely, it +seemed to Ringfield as if he--the worthiest--had chief right to her; he +feared not Poussette, the married and the marred, the uneducated, the +inferior one of her own race, but he still feared the perversely +cultured, doubtlessly gifted, decadent "Oxford man," the social +superior of every one in the village. + +Poussette again reflected. Any latent jealousy he had entertained of +the minister tended to disappear under the fire of these inquisitorial +interviews, and Ringfield might always be credited with having fine +command over his features. + +"Ah, well, m'sieu," said the Frenchman, sagaciously nodding, "Crabbe is +no harm. You get me my divorce; let me marry Ma'amselle Pauline, live +with her at the beeg house, and I'll promise--_parole d'honneur_, +m'sieu--to see no more that man." + +"The Manor House! It will be a long time before any one can live +there, I should think!" said Ringfield impatiently, concealing the +spasm of tortured pride that passed over him as he heard Poussette's +tactics defined. "And what if she will not marry you? Mlle. +Clairville is wedded to the theatre, she tells me, and although of that +I cannot approve, it would not be so bad as marrying a divorced person." + +"But we are great friends, sir! Many a tam I have kept that house, +many, many months, m'sieu, supply well with food--the meat and the +dhrink, the chickenne and the wine. Her brother is _fou_--mad, he has +not one cent monee. How then shall mademoiselle fare? I am good +tenant of her brother, the Sieur, Seigneur of St. Ignace, and I send my +peep there with good things to eat; he will tell you, sir, of the old +tam and all about the _corvee_ when every one in the _paroisse_ do same +thing; one man feesh, another man beeg chickenne or turkey, another +patackes, another flour from the mill. Why, sir, if it was not that I, +Amable Poussette, was good friend there, I don't know, I don't _know_, +m'sieu, how they get along 'tall! Those Archambault--all bad peep--all +bad together; the old woman, the old man, the girl, the boy--all the +same, sure." + +"Who pays them?--You?" + +"No, m'sieu; do better things with my monee." + +"But they don't believe in the _corvee_, surely?" + +"It is like this." And Poussette tapped the other's knee with his fat +fingers, thereby displaying the cornelian ring to much advantage, and +Ringfield saw with satisfaction that on top of the large "C" was cut a +little "S". Had the relations between Poussette and Miss Cordova so +quickly progressed and of what nature were they? The eye of the +Frenchman gave a comprehensive wink. "It is all right, Mr. Ringfield, +all right, sir, Mees Cordova--she put the ring on my finger herself; +she was just fooling last night and I like to be good friends with her; +then she speak for me to Mees Clairville, and so--_vous comprenez_, +sir. But no--I pay no money to these Archambault. It is like this. +There have been Clairville many years at St. Ignace; there have also +been Archambault too a long tam. They say once one was married with +another, but I do not know; I would not ask M'sieu Clairville, and I +would not ask Ma'amselle Pauline. This is a long tam ago, I only speak +of what I hear. I know this, m'sieu--it is not a nice place, not a +nice life for a lady like Mees Clairville. Have you not seen her on +the theatre? You would like to see her at that?" + +"No, decidedly not. I have never seen a play. I do not approve of the +life she leads, and trust that when her brother is better she will not +return to her vocation." + +"But how--she must make some leetle monee of her own, and it is for why +she goes on the theatre. I have seen her act and sing." + +"Can she sing?" + +"Ah, you shall hear. She will sing for me, m'sieu, and +bigosh--_excusez_, Mr. Ringfield--I'll get her sing to-night. And if I +do that, will you, sir, do one great thing for me?" + +Ringfield smiled. "I won't promise, Poussette. You're a deeper +character than I thought you were. At any rate, I'll do nothing about +a divorce--make sure of that, man!" + +Poussette, with large, noble gestures, waved the divorce away. + +"I say nothing. I will do nothing. But if you will be so kind, sir, +as to speak of me to Mees Clairville, should my wife, Mme. +Natalie--die! Tell her, sir, how I am good man, _au fond_, sir, by my +nature; how I love the leetle babee, plenty small babee; how I am kind, +jolly man, by my nature, sir; how I would like to marry with her, give +her good tam. You tell her this, Mr. Ringfield, for me, and make me +your best friend, sure?" + +Half-laughing, half-shocked, and for the moment forgetting his own +views and dreams concerning her, Ringfield acceded to the unusual +request. + +"And remember, m'sieu--tell her I go no more on the dhrunk after I +marry with her--no, sir, go no more 'tall. If we live in Morreall, +tell her I'll go no more on that Hotel Champlain neither; a friend of +mine, Napoleon Legendre, he has a temperance 'otel in Craig Street; I +go there, sir, and never touch even one glass of beer. Tell her that. +And tell her I am for selling this place, and p'raps buy Clairville +Chateau. Tell her----" + +"Enough, enough, my good Poussette!" cried Ringfield, jumping up as he +heard feminine voices nearing their retreat. "Your virtuous +resolutions do you credit, and may you be enabled to perform and carry +them through--if not to the letter at least in the spirit." + +"And you don't think me _bad, low_ kind of _garcon_, eh?" + +"I do not, indeed." + +"Say"--and Poussette's hand instinctively moved towards the +counter--"you will dhrink a leetle glass beer, just one, sir, on that +with me?" + +"Poussette!" + +With an injured expression, and a rapidity amazing for so fat a man, +Poussette slipped round behind the counter and brought out two bottles +of ginger ale; in a twinkling the tall tumblers were ready and he +offered one to Ringfield with a deep and exaggerated bow. + +"Ah--I see. I beg your pardon, Poussette. I thought you meant the +other kind. Of course I will drink with you and with pleasure." + +The glasses were placed side by side, each taking one and looking +intently at one another. In that moment all selfishness died out of +Ringfield; he felt the importance of the opportunity. + +"Will you shake hands first, Poussette?" + +"_Mais oui_, m'sieu! _Certainement_, but wait, sir, one moment!" + +With repeated rubbings on the clean roller-towel behind him, turning +back of cuffs and a general straightening of the person and freshening +of the attire, the Frenchman at length proffered his fat hand, and +Ringfield clasped it with a firm, bold grasp; his muscles were twice as +strong as those of the Frenchman, for while the one had been chiefly +employed in the kitchen, at a rude desk, and had rusted in long loafing +and idling intervals, the other had maintained his rowing and paddling +and his interest in other athletic pursuits; even a half-dozen lessons +in boxing had he laid to his credit. + +"Now I've got you," said he, smiling, as the fat hand lay tightly +imprisoned in the lean one, "and I'm not going to let you go till you +make me a promise. See here--Poussette--promise me now--not to touch a +drop of liquor again for a whole year. We'll let it go at that; I +won't say anything about beer. By degrees, man, we'll fight the Devil +and all his works. By degrees, and by prayer, and by every argument in +favour of right living that I can bring before you--we'll fight this +thing out together, you and I. Don't wait for some hysterical +occasion, but do your plain duty now, while I hold your hand in mine. +If you should marry again, Poussette, and should ever have those little +children playing about you--what then? You'd want to lead a straight +life then--and before, I know you would. Come--make me the promise +now--and if you break it, as you may do, come to me and tell me of it; +make it a second time and so--each interval may be longer, do you +see--if you 'take the pledge' as it is called, it is likely to be in +public, and your friends and fellow-drinkers hear about it, and +ridicule you and laugh at the idea, and so you are driven to drink +again. What do you say, Poussette?" + +"It is then--just between you and me, sir?" + +"That's the idea. Of course I shall say nothing about it to a third +person. Come--you promise!" + +Poussette seemed uneasy. + +"But--m'sieu--just you and me? That seems, sir, just same thing as go +confess to Father Rielle. Beg pardon, Mr. Ringfield, but bigosh, +sir--that is same sure as go on the confession." + +Ringfield saw the point. + +"I understand, Poussette. You are right. We must not be ashamed of +trying to be good. Nothing done in the corner, eh? Well, then, you +tell--anybody you like." + +"The new lady--Mees Cordova! Will that be all right, sir?" + +"Why Miss Cordova? Oh, well--never mind! So long as I've got your +word, Poussette, the word of an honest man, eh?" + +"I'll thry, sir." + +"That's good. That's all right. You're a _man_, Poussette." + +The Frenchman wiped the tumblers thoughtfully and gazed intently into +space. Perhaps he saw there the future small Poussettes playing out of +doors; perhaps too, he saw the faded, weary woman who bore his name, +still watching the sick man in the old manor house. + +"You see, m'sieu," he said impressively, "if Mme. Poussette was to come +right, if she come again on me here, feex up things around the house, +be well and jolly, I would not send her away, I would not thry get this +divorce. Fonny things happens--but I don't know about my wife. Dr. +Renaud think she will always be the same. It is hard for me, Mr. +Ringfield, sir--me, jolly kind of man--have a wife go like silly person +all over the place, sing and walk by herself, make up songs, fonny +_chansons_. Ah, you don't know how I have hard tam with that one! +But, I'll wait till I see how she is in two, three weeks; the +doctor--he say Henry Clairville almost well now." + +"And it is understood you will leave Miss Clairville alone--and Miss +Cordova. Remember, Poussette, you have engaged me to preach in your +church and to minister here in this parish. I must refuse to do either +if you offend against common decency and morality. Besides--Miss +Clairville will never, I am positive, listen to you. You must see as +well as I do, her pride in her family connexions, however worthless +these are to-day." + +"_Bien_," said Poussette jauntily, "if not Mees Clairville, then Mees +Cordova. That is for why I wear her ring. I can persuade, +sir--bigosh, _excusez_ m'sieu, I can persuade!" + +"So it seems," said the other drily, and would have continued his +lecture had not the two ladies, who had been in the hall laughing and +smiling around the bar door, now appeared boldly on the scene, and +Ringfield made his escape, not before he had promised to look in that +evening during an improvised concert at which Miss Sadie Cordova would +dance, and Miss Clairville act and sing. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +A SICK SEIGNEUR + + "He sits alone + On stormy waters in a little boat + That holds but him and can contain no more!" + + +Meanwhile the house of Clairville was undergoing drastic changes at the +hands of Mme. Poussette. The patient, propped up in his ancient and +tattered bed, was now strong enough to look at books; many hours he +passed in this way while madame roamed over the doleful house, setting +in order and cleaning as well as she could. Her strength, patience and +endurance were remarkable; she could dust, sweep, scrub, hammer, all +day long and never experience fatigue; walls were rubbed down, windows +opened and washed, furniture drawn forth from dusty armoires and +cupboards raked out--and still the work went on, each day bringing to +light some dark, unfamiliar nook, some unexplored room or closet. At +Poussette's she never worked at all; sensitiveness to strangers and +fear of the servants mastered her; at Clairville she worked +incessantly, and when her nursing was done, entered upon her labours in +this Augean house with steady passionless activity. + +Clairville was badly pitted and every remnant of good looks had left +him, yet on the first day that he could put his feet to the floor he +would have sent madame into the front room, saying:-- + +"Bring me the suit of clothes you will see hanging on a nail in the +wall". + +She stared at him, knowing his weakness of body better than he knew it +himself. + +"What for, m'sieu?" + +"What for? What are clothes for, idiot of a woman! To put on, to +wear. I shall habit myself as a gentleman. Faith--it is time, too!" + +"But, m'sieu----!" + +"Bring me that suit, I say." + +Madame hesitated, because she had removed the suit in question a week +before to an old trunk in an empty room--she was not very clear which +one--and it would take her some minutes to find it. + +"If m'sieu will get back into his bed----" + +"I will do nothing so foolish. I was thinking of getting up. I _am_ +up and should be holding a levee-- How do you do, my Lord +Marquis?--pray enter. M. le Chevalier de Repentigny; open there for my +friend, the Intendant! Gentlemen, I greet you. You perceive me at my +toilet--but these lackeys are too slow! Fetch me my clothes, I say! +Ah--misery! I cannot stand! I cannot--cannot even sit! Help me to +bed, you woman there--help me, quick!" + +And madame, instead of running for the suit of Court clothes, managed +to lay Henry Clairville down again before he fainted. However, the +next day he was slightly stronger and the next and the next, so that on +the fifth day he was nearly as well as ever, and again demanding the +suit, she went to the room upstairs and hunted for it. Its colour was +a faded claret, and lacings of dingy silver appeared on the front and +round the stiffened skirt that stood out from the waist--a kind of cut +to make even a meagre man look well among his fellows; a three-cornered +hat went with it, and into this relic of strenuous days, madame soon +assisted her charge. + +"How does it fit?" he inquired anxiously + +"It is without doubt large at present for m'sieu, but m'sieu has been +ill. After a while it will fit better." + +"And how do you think I look in it?" he continued, gazing with +fringeless expressionless eyes on her vacant but concerned countenance. +"You see, to meet these gentlemen I must at least try to appear as well +as they do. A Sieur de Clairville must guard the appearance at all +costs! Where is my sister, Pauline-Archange--why does she not come and +assist me in the entertainment of the Court? Of the Court, do I say?" + +Here Clairville drew himself up as well as he could, and winking at his +nurse gravely informed her that the most Christian King, Louis of +France, being in North America for the good of his health, might call +at the manor to see its master at any moment. + +"If you will be very secret, my good woman, I will tell you this +further, but it must be between us only--His Most Christian Majesty of +France is just recovering from the 'Pic'. But do not alarm yourself; I +have not been with him much. Fear not, madame, neither for yourself +nor me." + +Madame clasped her hands and looked upwards; she seemed to be crying, +and yet she shed no tears. She knew there was something wrong. _She_ +was wrong. The Sieur de Clairville was wrong. The old habit of +prayer, fervid, poetic, Catholic prayer, asserted itself and +accordingly the mystic rosary of Our Lady returned to her. + +"_Priez pour nous, sainte Mere de Dieu. Mere aimable, priez pour nous. +Mere adorable, priez pour nous. Vierge puissante, priez! Vierge +fidele, priez pour nous. Rose mysterieuse, priez pour nous. Maison +d'or, Etoile du matin, priez pour nous. Sante des infirmes, priez pour +nous._" + +Henry Clairville listened. Gradually he sank into the chair, and the +tears, the slow, painful, smarting tears of weak mind and middle +age--coursed down his thin, pitted cheeks. Madame sat down too and +sobbed. + +"Oh, have I offended you, m'sieu? Why did I pray? What makes us pray +at all? Is there One who hears a poor woman like me? But she might +hear you, m'sieu, a grand gentleman like you--and so I prayed." + +"A grand gentleman! Thank you--madame, thank you," said he, trembling. +"I believe I am that, or I was once. I have been very ill, I see. You +must not take any notice if I go a little out of my head; it is +nothing; Pauline is well accustomed to it, and so may you be if you +remain here long. Only be lively with me, be always lively and pray +aloud no more. I do not like these prayers. But why are you here? +Where are my servants--Maman Archambault, Antoine, and the rest?" + +"The servants of m'sieu left when m'sieu was taken sick." + +"And you are doing their work?" + +"As well as I can, m'sieu, when I can leave you. Just a little work I +do, to amuse me, keep me from thinking." + +Clairville trembled again and could not lift his eyes to this afflicted +patient creature. + +"I recollect now," he murmured, "you were always a kind woman. It was +you who took the child away?" + +"It was I, m'sieu." + +"Eight years ago, was it not?" + +"Nine, m'sieu." + +"Nine, then. It was the year of the great snow. Does she--does my +sister ever go to see it?" + +"I cannot tell, m'sieu. She is not in St. Ignace often, and m'sieu +knows that when ma'amselle goes abroad it is to Montreal and to the +theatre." + +"But you--you know about it, if it lives, if it is well, and has--has +its mind?" + +"It lives--yes, truly, m'sieu--it is never ill and it has its mind!" + +"Mon Dieu!" muttered Henry Clairville. "_That_ has its mind and I--I +am sometimes bereft of mine. And you--you----" he pointed to madame, +and though innocent and unoffending she quailed before the seigneurial +finger. "You even--you woman there--you have not always your mind! +Oh--it is dreadful to think of it! I would be ill again and forget. +Tell me--is there, is there any resemblance? Say no, madame, say no!" + +"I never go to Hawthorne, m'sieu, I cannot tell you. But I do not +think so. I have never heard. They are nearly all English in that +parish; they would not concern themselves much about that--the poor +_bebe_, the poor Angele. God made her too, m'sieu. Perhaps some day +she will be taken away by mademoiselle to a place where such children +are cared for. That is why Mademoiselle Pauline works so hard at the +theatre to make much money." + +"She would need to!" burst from Henry Clairville. "What she does with +the money she makes I do not know, it never comes this way! I cannot +make money. She ought to remember me sometimes, so that I could +establish this place afresh, find new servants, for example. +Alas--what shall I do without them?" + +He raised his voice and the old peevish tone rang out. + +"Be tranquil, m'sieu. It is I--I myself, nursing you, who shall do all +that is required." + +He sighed heavily, then a sudden fire leapt into his eyes. "Let us see +how far I can walk. Open that door, I wish to see if I can cross the +hall." + +"After so long, m'sieu! It is not possible. May St. Anne give you +courage, for it is assuredly six or seven years since m'sieu has left +his apartment." + +"Nine--nine!" said he impatiently. "The year the child came into this +world. I vowed then and all St. Ignace knows I have kept the vow--I +would never leave my room again." + +"M'sieu, all know, it is true, of the vow, but none know the reason for +it. I have kept my faith, m'sieu." + +"But she, my sister, she is so flighty, so excitable--she may have told +a thousand times!" + +"I think not, m'sieu." + +"Father Rielle is unsuspecting; likewise Dr. Renaud. Well, well, who +gains by considering evil? Not one so weak and battered as I. +Nevertheless, I will walk, madame. I will conquer this fear and this +weakness and will show the strength and temper of a Clairville, of a De +Clairville, I should say. Open then, madame." + +Thus with his black skull-cap on his bald head, and the faded claret +and silver habit upon his shrunken limbs, he tottered over the +threshold of his disorderly, uncared for room which he had occupied +without one moment's intermission, night and day, summer and winter, +for eight years, ten months and four days, and madame, preceding him, +watched in an agony of fear but also of hope--yonder was a new field +for her powers of cleansing and purifying. Dust in thick rolls, +cobwebs in floating black triangular and looped clusters, stale odours +and rubbish--the apartment which had served as bedroom, dining-room, +_salon_ and study so long, would naturally be in a disgraceful +condition. Henry Clairville's ghost it was that passed from that room +to the hall, but the ghost walked--more than Henry Clairville had done +for nine years. + +The door of the chief _salon_ was open, and he entered, Mme. Poussette +assisting him, still with clasped hands and awestruck eyes, and, +although all the changes which had been wrought by her indefatigable +fingers could not be appreciated by him, as it was so long since he had +seen the room, he missed something. The suit, hanging for years upon +its common nail, till it was encrusted with flyspecks, riddled with +moth-holes, and tarnished, rusty and faded, now covered his meagre +frame, but the other things he looked for he failed to find. He gazed +at the walls, perceiving the one old, cracked and discoloured painting. + +"Where are the others?" he demanded piteously. "There were four +others, all valuable, all of great value." + +"There was but this one when I came, m'sieu." + +"Then Pauline has sold them--to keep that wretched child alive, to pay +for its board and keep and _tendresse--tendresse_, perhaps, on part of +some one while I--I have been neglected and kept short of the things I +might have had--the wine, the comforts, the fruits! Ah--but I am a +most unfortunate man, I who should be seigneur of the parish! Is it +not so, madame? Here have I been starving and yet--there was money, +you see--my sister had money all the time!" + +Madame's lips moved; she said nothing. Far from having suffered +privation during her stay at Clairville, she had been able to provide +both for herself and the invalid, food and drink of the best quality +procurable in that part--the Archambaults having hoarded large +quantities of the supplies sent up by Poussette's "peep". The love of +acquisition for its own sake had spread even among the youngest members +of the family, and had one demanded suddenly of any of them the +simplest meal, one would have been met by violent protestations that +there was nothing in the house! To such an extent had this smuggling +and hoarding spread that in looking through the kitchen and cellars +madame had encountered a great store of provisions, mostly in good +condition; sacks and barrels full of vegetables, apples, winter pears +and nuts; tins full of bread and cakes, some mouldy, some fresh, and +various kegs and bottles full of wine and spirits. + +"Then," he continued, "where are my choice books, my _editions de +luxe_? There were some splendid volumes here, rare, you understand, +worth money. She must have sold them also. I recollect when she +begged me to let her take them out of my room. And a violin--of the +most superb--that is gone! You know nothing of all these?" + +"I know nothing--truly--m'sieu." + +"And my cats? Who has dared to interfere with my cats, my dear +friends? Le Cid--Chateaubriand--Phedre--Montcalm--eh? What has been +done with them? And the doors, the little doors I had made for +them--nailed up, I see! Ah--ah, madame--this is your work! You have +killed them! Say then, am I not right? Miserable wretch of a woman!" + +He was staggering now about the room between weakness and temper and +she assisted him to a chair. + +"You have killed them!" he gasped repeatedly. + +"No, m'sieu, not one. Indeed, m'sieu, I speak the truth. The cats of +m'sieu were fourteen; how could I kill so many? No, but I fed them and +put them away in the barns--yes--and nailed up the little doors, it is +true, for I could not do my work with the cats of m'sieu always between +the feet. I spoke of them once to you, because there were two who +wished to enter your room, lie on the bed----" + +"Yes, yes! Le Cid and Montcalm. Good cats, good friends!" + +"Lie on the bed, but I could not allow them. Thus, for three days they +sat outside the door of m'sieu." + +"And the peacock? Is it that I shall find him banished also when I +walk forth from my house? Mlle. Pauline has rid herself of him?" + +"Not so, m'sieu. I have cared for the bird and indeed for all the +animals." + +Clairville, quieter now, was thinking. + +"Did some one sing to me about cats as I lay there on my bed?" + +Madame reddened. + +"Yes, m'sieu--it was I who made a song about the 'Cats of Clairville'. +To amuse myself only, m'sieu, I often do like that." + +He looked at her, then down at his speckled, bony hands. + +"We are both mad, I think," he said in the most matter-of-fact way, +"but you, of course, more so than I am. Well, to-day I have walked in +here. To-morrow I shall walk all over this house, and next week, +madame, next week I shall walk to the village--well, half-way. Some +day I may even go to church. Oh--you shall see, you shall see!" + +And with that, natural fatigue, engendered by the wholly unusual +exercise intervened; his nurse moved a sofa into the hall, and there he +slept for many hours, while she routed out his room as well as she +could; his physical recovery from that day was miraculously rapid, and +in a fortnight he was as quick and light upon his feet and as much +given to the open air and walking as he had been previously doggedly +convinced that he could not use his legs and that the least breath or +whiff of fresh air would destroy him. So much for the after-effects of +the "Pic" and the sweet uses of adversity. + +The fine November days that followed were the days that Canada can give +in wonderful perfection--when the thick canopy of leaves has been +caught up, shrivelled, and disappeared, when a great expanse of sky, +forest and river lies before the enraptured vision, with every twig and +branch, every stump and hollow in the ground, every undulation and +hillock of withered grass, showing as clearly cut and sharply defined +as in winter, while the air is frequently warmer than in June and a +singular mellow haze fills all the forest paths. Now can be closely +seen the different forms of the trees, each trunk and each limb no less +interesting than the brilliant foliage which lately enveloped them; the +abandoned nests are bare, some on the ground transfixed between the +bushes, or pendant from the branches of tall trees. The evergreens of +various kinds supply the note of colour which alone gives hope and +promises relief from neutral brown and grey, and underneath what once +was a leafy forest arcade are all the roots of spring--the spotted +erythronium, the hepatica, the delicate uvularia, the starry +trientalis. Through such spacious aisles and along such paths of +promise Henry Clairville walked every day while the fine weather +lasted, wearing the ancient suit and the black skull-cap, and often +attended as far as Lac Calvaire by the white peacock and two cats, and +always watched from window or door by the faithful Mme. Poussette. +Fear of contagion kept the Archambaults away, all save Antoine, who, +constituting himself a bodyguard for Pauline in the village, took +messages to and fro the Manor House. + +When M. Clairville had seen the stores and provisions in his cellar, +sufficient, with a few additions, for the entire winter months at +least, he demanded of madame if she would remain with him and manage +his house, and the poor woman assented with delight. Poussette did not +want her; she had no place in the world, no ties; only occasionally was +she required to nurse sick people in the village; here was a +comfortable remote haven where she might be of use, busied in +exercising those faculties remaining to her, which at Poussette's were +rotting and rusting away. She remained therefore, to cook and wait +upon him; a new existence sprang up for both, and it was when this sort +of thing had lasted for a month that the parish priest, Father Rielle, +thought it his duty to call. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +FATHER RIELLE + + "--his moods + Of pain were keen as those of better men, + Nay, keener, as his fortitude was less." + + +The writer has elsewhere stated that the Roman Catholic clergy in this +part of the world are easily divided into two classes, the rotund, rosy +and jolly, and the thin, ascetic and reserved; the _cure_ of St. Ignace +belonged to the latter, and possessed a strongly marked characteristic +face, the droop of his bitter mouth and the curve of his chiselled nose +being almost Dantesque in effect. He had conserved a type of feature +which, common enough up to the present, seems to be in danger of +extinction; the passing of the aquiline, the slow disappearance of the +Roman nose, are facts patent to thoughtful observers of national +traits. Any contemporaneous collection of portraits of representative +men in the higher walks of life reveals the fact that this fine racial +curve is rapidly becoming extinct. From the Duke of Wellington down, +this nose has been associated with men prominent in military and naval +affairs, in literature (notably poetry and criticism) and in finance +and diplomacy, until the possession of such a significant organ has +become almost the _sine qua non_ of an individual destined to be famous +or successful. Varieties of course existed, such as when combined with +beetling brows and sunken eyes one recognized the professor or +arch-critic of his generation. Or, when taken with the square +forehead, thin mouth and visionary eyes of the military genius, one saw +some great general. Or simply existing in some silly scion of good +family, and meaning nothing whatever, in this case usually over-high at +the thin bridge, and in profile far too strong for the weak rest of the +face. In women of gentle extraction this nose was found beautifully +proportioned. In belles of the mid-Victorian era were the lineaments +of Caesar clearly revealed, associated with the delicacy of colouring +and rounded chin and cheek which redeemed them from hard masculinity, +so that fifty years ago in any representative gathering of England's +fairest and noblest the observer would note a similarity of feature, +especially in profile, between peers and peeresses, poets and +poetesses, statesmen and the _grandes dames_ of society. Caricatured, +it lived in the drawings of Leech and Du Maurier. Taken seriously, it +inspired creative artists both of pen and brush when dealing with the +heroic. Superficial writers confused it with the Hebraic nose, and in +prints of criminal and depraved characters one frequently found it +distorted and wrenched to conditions of ugliness. Tennyson and the +latest murderer apparently owned the same facial angle, if one +corrected the droop of the eyebrow, the curve of the nostril, the set +of the ear. Thus the Roman or aquiline nose made itself and its +possessor known to the world. Other noses might, if they liked, take a +back seat! this nose never. Sala, Lamb, Kingsley--all had varieties of +the nose. The American variant is seen in hundreds of nineteeenth +century writers, preachers, New England farmers, old Cape Cod +characters, Gloucester fishermen, actors, especially of tragic mould; +showmen, lecturers, bankers--the nose has prospered in the new world. +The significance of the feature is matched by its endurance, by the +persistency with which it appears in every decade up to the present. + +For with the opening of a new century the nose, aquiline in its purest +state, equine with its accompaniment of cruel gums and sharp teeth in +its worst, seems on the point of disappearing. The contemporary +portraits of great men and beautiful women no longer display it. There +is a new nose. It is to be hoped that it retains the powers with which +the organ was originally endowed; for example, we suppose that it still +can detect and appreciate, repulse and define odours. But as a +sign-post showing the path to glory, as an index of force of character +or intellect, it is practically useless. The new nose is modest, +retiring, seeketh not its own, is never puffed up. You would know it +for a nose, certainly, but its ample and aristocratic proportions are +wanting; it lacks a bridge, is spineless, immature, unfinished. Yet it +is set in the faces of many eminent thinkers and workers among the +younger men; it is already allied to keenness of vision and talent, and +may or may not be associated with birth and good breeding. The query +is--is it a new nose, or only one that has always been with us, but is +now gradually supplanting the old one? Did the nose aquiline largely +represent class, and does the phenomenon of the new semi-straight, +semi-nothing nose represent the intrusion of mass? Against this timid +and, it may be, spurious generalization, one may pit the working-man +with the nose of a duke, and the young colonial ruler with the +unformed, delicate feature of a school-girl. So we accept the fact +that in our own day types are passing. + +The English face is going. It has served its turn, perhaps. Infusion +of American and colonial blood will help to change it. The high-nosed +country gentleman or landed noble, with Berserk or Viking blood in his +veins, finds that, like Alice in Wonderland, it takes all he can do to +keep where he is, and the work entailed takes something, a good deal, +out of him. One thing goes, then another; finally, he casts away his +birthright, the arch or bridge of his nose, and his son and the younger +members of his family appear shorn of that important feature. The +plebeian nose, so long as it is neither pug nor pig, is safer, better. +Men are not afraid of it. Syndicates and boards breathe more freely +when the barriers of nose are broken down, and a good mediocrity of +feature may yet avert a war or preserve a treaty. At all events, a +study of our chief contemporaries will bear out a considerable portion +of this reasoning. The beauties of society and the stage have a +leaning to noses tiptilted like the petals of a flower, or to a nose +which is a kind of modification of the Greek, frequently found among +Americans. For instance, in Canada there is fast growing up a new type +of head, clean-shaven, firm, expressionless young faces, who bring +their thick, straight dark hair and blue-grey eyes from the country to +the town. They are forsaking the plough and the roadside school for +the warehouse and the pestle and mortar. It is not openly reported of +such that they would rather wear a black coat and starve than wear +fustian and do well, to quote Thomas Hardy, but the stress of things +drives them. The rural communities are dull; amusements are lacking; +there seems nothing to live for outside work. Nature poets and +wild-animal delineators are not among these set, earnest, +straight-featured faces. The former are more likely to be denizens of +cities. In this slightly dour Canadian face there are but few aquiline +noses, and yet such is the danger of generalizing that perhaps the +first people readers of this page meet after perusing it might be a +group of students, none with Celtic hair and eyes and all with Roman +contours. Likewise, on opening the current number of a leading musical +journal, the long, high, prominent nasal organ of Sir Edward Elgar +confronts us, whose peculiar cast of thought confirms the impression +that spirituality, fine artistic conception and capacity to achieve are +still the dower of those possessing this fast-disappearing feature. +Ringfield belonged to the tribe of straight-nosed, grey-eyed +thinkers--a finished contrast to Father Rielle, whose worn profile +suggested the wormwood and the gall. Looks, however, not being in all +cases indications of the character within, the priest was an +exceedingly simple and earnest man, constitutionally timid, and +physically frail; thus, he passed for what is known as a "deep" man, +when he was nothing of the sort, and although it may be a mooted point +whether in a Catholic community the local priest has or has not the +entire conscience of that community at his mercy by means of the +confessional, it was certain that there were a few things that Father +Rielle did not know. Had he been social, convivial, fond, like most of +his brother priests, of a game of cards, of good living and long +drinking, he might have worked more reforms in the countryside, and +holding the reins of priestly government stern and tight prevented some +lapses from the moral code. That is to say, a worse man might have +achieved better results, but as it was not in his nature to haunt +Poussette's, make friends with the guides and call at unconventional +hours upon his parishioners, he missed several revelations that fell to +Ringfield's share. Crabbe was not upon his visiting list, nor Pauline +of late years; for Henry Clairville he entertained a certain sad +respect, as for a gentleman and landed proprietor fallen from grace +indeed, but by the Will of God rather than by personal shortcomings. +His tendency to fatalism was Calvinistic in its intensity, and he trod +his accustomed path baptizing, marrying, burying, with the sour curve +of his thin profile growing sourer every day. Thus this silent, +censorious-looking priest presented a strong contrast to the optimistic +young Ontarian, yet one emotion was common to them both--Father Rielle +had for years nursed a hopeless passion for Miss Clairville. + +It happened that the knowledge of Mme. Poussette's remaining on at +Clairville as housekeeper to its master came to Father Rielle as +something of a shock. Certain things are right and certain things are +wrong in certain places; some things are right and some things are +wrong in all places. Madame had a husband who, although plainly tired +of her, had not yet openly neglected her; she also had a good home, and +in her condition of mind it was not wise, according to the priest, that +she should leave her husband and home to live with Henry Clairville. +Dr. Renaud was questioned, but as medical men are everywhere less +concerned with the conventions than are lawyers or priests, he only +intimated that madame was probably happier at Clairville than in her +own home, and that he saw no reason for disturbing the arrangement. + +"But," said Father Rielle in their common tongue, "is it because the +wife of Poussette is a little afflicted, light of head while sad of +heart, that rules and customs no longer apply to her? I take it--it +will make a scandal in the village and every man who is sick must +expect some other man's wife to come in and care for him, and finally +live in his house and take care of it. Our society may be small, but +in some matters it is best conducted as are large communities. I think +M. de Clairville should be instructed that his conduct is wrong." + +"You call him 'de' Clairville, I see," replied the doctor from his +buggy outside Gagnon's carpenter shop. "Well, it does not matter! +Faith--he is both vicious and mad enough to be in truth the seigneur of +all the parish as he styles himself--as nobles and seigneurs used to +go. I have little knowledge of such myself! I am a plain man! my +father was Renaud the harness-maker of Three Rivers. First I was fond +of horses, then I was fond of gathering herbs and flowers, then I was +fond of mixing medicines and quacking my friends when they were ill; +then my mother saved some money and sent me to college and then one +fine day I awoke, and I am Dr. Renaud! And you--you are one of the +three Rielle brothers, likewise from Three Rivers; one is a notary, one +a priest--yourself--and the youngest keeps the Hotel Jacques Cartier at +Sorel-en-haut. That is funny, that! You should have made him +something else." + +"It is true," replied the priest mildly, "I am not in love with his +calling, but people who travel must be lodged. I use his place myself +once or twice a year; it is the Will of God that such places must be; +it is clean, and his wife, at the age of seventeen, already cooks well; +he is lately married at the age of thirty-five. I myself am four years +older. But of M. de Clairville I would say--that he must be brought to +see that he is doing this poor Mme. Poussette a wrong, and I was going +to ask you if you would drive me out to visit him this afternoon. That +is, if, as I hear, it is quite safe to go there now." + +"It would afford me pleasure indeed, _mon pere_," said Dr. Renaud, "but +unfortunately I am waiting here for the young man who has charge of the +new church by the river,--Poussette's fancy, Mr. Ringfield." + +"You are driving him to Clairville?" A quick jealousy animated the +priest's eager question. + +"I am, but we can make room for you. Certainly, my friend, we are +neither of us so very stout and you are thin; you shall sit in our +laps--oh yes, I take no denial! You shall come with us, Father Rielle, +and we three shall descend upon this sick seigneur of yours and his +housekeeper and see what they are doing. Drive her back in the +evening, if you like." + +While the priest hesitated, Ringfield and Poussette appeared at the +door, and the instant the latter heard of the expedition he also wished +to go. + +"I cannot see why!" cried Dr. Renaud angrily. "One _charrette_ will +not hold us all; it is going to snow and I must get back before dark. +I'm calling here to leave an order for Gagnon about a coffin for old +Telesphore Tremblay who died yesterday, and I have promised to see his +poor wife to-night." + +"Then I shall take my own buggy and Mr. Ringfield can go with me. The +_cure_ can go with you, sir." + +"Well, if the whole village wishes to pay its respects to a crazy man +all at the same time, let them come!" roared the irascible doctor. +"You didn't care to go till you saw us going. But put your horse in, +put him in; we will wait for you." + +"_Bien_, M'sieu! I have three hams and a sack of potatoes; they shall +go too." + +This dialogue had been overheard by Pauline, sitting at cards with Miss +Cordova in the front room, and with her natural impetuosity she jumped +up, declaring that if Henry were well enough to see "these others," he +was well enough to see her. Her impulsive movements sent the cards and +counters flying up through the air, and one card hit Miss Cordova on +the left eye directly over the pupil. As lightly as if flicked by a +clever finger, but as unerringly as if deliberately and viciously aimed +at her, one of the four sharp points of cardboard selected her dark eye +for its target, and with a scream she too sprang up, overturning the +table and seizing Pauline by the shoulder. The pain and distress were +considerable, and Miss Clairville, opening the window, called for Dr. +Renaud, who came at once to look at the eye and recommended bathing, +bandages and complete rest. The exquisite tenderness of the inflamed +organ gave Miss Cordova so much annoyance that after ten minutes she +retired to her room, and the doctor again proposed himself ready to +start for Lac Calvaire. The weather, fine and mild for so long, was +changing now with every hour, and it was becoming strangely dark +overhead. + +"Whoever comes with me must prepare for a storm," said he, glancing at +the blackening sky, "only a few flurries of snow, perhaps, but one +cannot tell--it may prove more." + +"You are sure there can be no danger of infection?" asked Ringfield, +with an anxious glance at Pauline, who had raced to her room, stuck +imitation solitaires in her ears, donned a worn-out but well-fitting +seal jacket and muff and a dashing black and scarlet hat, and now stood +in the village street--the embodiment of piquant French +womanhood--quite conscious of her charms and insufferably weary of +having no audience to show them off to! A certain disdain sprang into +her treatment of Ringfield at this time, and it was a question with +her, should he ever ask her to be his wife, whether she would not +inevitably tire of the high aims and lofty ideals he no doubt would +impose upon her. + +"You don't suppose I'd be going if there were, do you?" she remarked in +English tartly, curving her arching black brows at him; "how many are +we--five? That's three too many, in my opinion. Father Rielle--I go +with you in Mr. Poussette's buggy; you others there, you three +messieurs--you can go how you please." + +The priest flushed, then a sudden glance passed between him and +Ringfield, and in that look each knew what the other wished and hated +him for it! Still, Father Rielle followed Pauline instantly, and there +was no opposition as she lightly leapt into Poussette's buggy, and with +a wave of her muff, adorned by a bright scarlet bow, two of the five +were soon out of sight. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +THE STORM + + "Snow is at the door + Assaulting and defending, and the wind, + A sightless labourer, whistles at his work." + + +Dr. Renaud now called on the minister and Poussette to make haste; he +had been delayed by the accident to Miss Cordova and already large flat +flakes were falling. + +"Just the size of half-dollars, eh? The idea is, Poussette, to bring +madame home; that is to say, the _cure's_ idea, but he's gone off with +another woman. I suppose you are jealous now, of this one I mean, not +the other." + +"Not me, much. Father Rielle, he's no harm. He cannot marry +mademoiselle nor any one else; besides, he has no money. Mlle. +Pauline--she is for the money." + +"Ah--ha, I believe you. We used to read or sing, I forget which, at +college, about 'Les beaux yeux de sa Cassette'. I do not know the +origin of the quotation, but you understand, Mr. Ringfield, what it +means, and our young lady in front there has learnt in a bitter school +the value of money. _Cassette--cassette_--cash-box; you will see, if +she ever settles down, it will be, as our friend Poussette says, for +the money." + +Ringfield's throat was dry, he did not speak; his stern gaze, directed +at the leafless landscape over which the first slow snows were falling, +gave no indication of the tumult within; besides, the aspect of the +road and condition of the elements were calculated to banish personal +emotions, for even Poussette's hilarity was silenced by the increasing +velocity of the wind and the darkness dropping upon them. It was only +five miles to the _metairie_, but at the end of the second mile the sky +was absolutely blank and the snow so thick that heaps of it lay on the +horse's flanks and on their own laps and hands. It kept increasing at +such magical rate that the roadway was obscured and twice Dr. Renaud +found himself out on the rocky plateau at the left, instead of the +middle path. The priest and Miss Clairville had vanished in front, but +the three men could hear the sound of a horse on the slabs of rock +behind them, coming very swiftly too, and in a few minutes a second +buggy dashed madly by. The horse was running away, no doubt badly +frightened by the violence of the storm, and Ringfield recognized Mr. +and Mrs. Abercorn in the agonized couple holding bravely on, while the +excitable little mare dashed through the snow. + +"My hands are freezing!" cried Dr. Renaud. "This is a big surprise--a +regular blizzard. We'll have to stop somewhere till it's over. I +never beheld such darkness--at three o'clock in the afternoon--nor such +sudden heaps of snow. Lucky for us if it does not turn to hail." He +had scarcely uttered the words when the snow flagged, ceased to fall, +then the hail began. Colder and colder grew the air with a strange, +unnatural feel in it as if in the proximity of icebergs, or of the hour +closest on dawn, and the hail, at first small and round, pretty and +harmless, came gently chattering about the horse's ears and back, came +faster and larger, came at last too fast and too large, came as stones +come that are flung by enemies and rioting mobs of people anxious for +vengeance. The doctor was afraid for his horse; one ear was cut and +bleeding and the animal could no longer face the blinding streams of +hail; he was covered and the men all got out, burying their heads in +their coats; but Ringfield, the worst off, since he had come without +gloves or muffler, was for ever casting anxious glances ahead, which +Poussette and the doctor understood. + +"I _bette_ you!" cried the former; "Mr. Ringfield, sir, the _cure_--he +don't know what to do with Miss Clairville. He'll never get her home, +sure. He's no good with a horse--my horse too--I guess we better go +after him, eh?" + +"Stay where you are!" shouted the doctor. "Farther along the forest +begins again, and these hailstones are snapping off the branches as if +they had been slashed with axes. I can hear. You may be killed. +Surely this cannot last long!" + +But there seemed no diminution of the hail; it lay a foot deep in +pieces the size of marbles or of small apples, and the autumnal grasses +and bushes of juniper and sumach were beaten flat with the rocky ground +from which they derived scant sustenance. + +The three men were by this time suffering greatly from the sudden and +unexpected cold, and as it was impossible to continue the drive to +Calvaire in face of the biting hail, they were about to attempt to +return to St. Ignace when the darkness partly lifted, the air grew +gradually milder, and streams of steady rain came pouring down; +overhead the clouds met, charged, and thunder raged at intervals. + +Ringfield, now greatly alarmed and fancying he heard noises from the +wood in front, even cries of distress, could no longer be detained, but +bidding farewell to the others strode forward in the direction of the +forest, slipping as he walked and already drenched to the skin, his +clothes freezing upon him and clogging his difficult steps. +Fortunately, for one who did not know the locality well, the daylight +had partly returned. He judged that by keeping to the road he ran no +risk of losing his way, but when a turn revealed another road, he was +naturally perplexed, as the face of the country had greatly changed +since he had made his last visit to the Manor House. Afraid to stand +long, for trees were thick about him and the lightning still flashing, +he went on again up the new road, and after a few minutes running saw a +deserted barn in a hollow and made for it. In this dell or glade the +trees had been thinned out, either by forest fires or by the owner, but +one tall pine remained beside the forlorn and ruined barn as if for +companionship--a lonely sentinel. + +Ringfield, wet and shivering, rushed up to the barn door, and finding +it half-open had nearly flung himself through it when he was arrested +by voices within, or rather a voice--that of a woman. He did not +immediately think of Miss Clairville, for no horse nor conveyance were +outside, but, had he listened more carefully, he would have recognized +her educated accents; as it was, in a moment or two she herself came to +the door, and upon seeing Ringfield started, but asked him to enter. + +The barn contained some old boxes and rusty tools, a short ladder led +to a loft above full of dry hay, and there Miss Clairville explained +she had taken refuge when the hail first began. + +"But Father Rielle----" said Ringfield looking vaguely around. + +"Oh, you shall not meet with him here. He left me and said he would +try to go on to Clairville, get a fresh horse--Poussette's was badly +cut--and come back for me. You have not met him?" + +"No, then you are alone?" + +"Of course, and neither wet nor frightened, while you appear to be +both!" said she, gaily at first, but catching her breath as she +observed his stern, anxious gaze. + +Ringfield, drawing a deep sigh, suddenly lost his self-control. + +"Oh, how you torture me!" he cried, extending his arms as if to enfold +her, then dropping them as he recollected his condition. + +"Torture you? You--Mr. Ringfield, so calm and self-contained, the +Reverend Mr. Ringfield of St. Ignace! I torture YOU! Why what have I +done to-day, then? Have I made the weather or caused the storm? Is it +MY snow or MY rain, or MY hail, and _ecoutez bien_--MY thunder and MY +lightning raging there?" + +"No--no--but to run off like that, and with that poor priest--poor +fellow--I saw how it was with him! You are sure he is not here now?" +Ringfield cast an eye up at the loft. + +"Certainly not! Would he let you talk like that about him? But listen +to this fearful storm! How can we think of anything else--and you--you +so wet--wet and tired! It seems a little calmer now; perhaps you had +better try again and walk on to Clairville. There you may fall in with +the _cure_ or Dr. Renaud and then come back for me." + +"I will not leave you in this desolate place for a moment! Yet I feel +as if we were surrounded by people--why is it--I cannot understand why! +To whom were you talking while I was outside?" + +"Ah, there, _tais-toi, mon ami_!" + +Miss Clairville pushed him down on one of the boxes and tried to draw +off his stiff and dripping coat, but he restrained her; their hands +meeting sent him beside himself, and, seizing one, he pressed a warm, +lingering kiss upon it. Adept in these matters, Pauline kept up a gay +chatter, and as she drew her hand away seemed only uneasy--neither +fluttered nor deeply moved. + +"I assure you," she exclaimed brightly, "I am quite safe here. I am +not in the least wet, my old coat has done me good service--_voyez_--my +feet are dry, and all I would ask is a light to cheer me while you are +absent, but that I cannot have and I must be content. Although that +unnatural dark is over, the shades of the true night will soon be +falling and it is lonely here. So the sooner you go the better." + +"But where can I go? Will it not be better to remain here with you +until Father Rielle returns?" + +"I think not--he is slow--that priest! See--if you go now, you will +surely overtake him. Keep to your right after regaining the road and +you will soon find the lake." + +"Well, then, I will go," said Ringfield rising. "But if I might speak +to you now, might tell you all I hope and fear and think almost +continually, if I might ask you, too, to think about it, and tell +me--tell me--it is so difficult for me to say what I wish to--you seem +so gay, so satisfied, so----" His voice broke off, for her face +changed ominously, and the strongest argument he could have adduced, +the folding of her to his heart, the silent embrace which should make +her his, was still denied him. To the outsider there might have been a +touch of humour in the situation, but not so to either person +concerned. She echoed his last words. + +"Satisfied! Me! You think I am that? My God, yes, I have to say it +in English--it means more! I--satisfied! Happy--you will say next, I +suppose. Me--happy and satisfied. I'm the most miserable woman on +God's earth! I have had ideals, aspirations--but how could I fulfil, +achieve them, living in this place and with my temper, my heredity. +Look at Henry. I tell you he is mad--mad and worse! Think of having +lived with him! Think of Clairville! You do not know half of what I +have gone through!" + +A dreadful thought, a dreadful question occurred to Ringfield as he +marked the dark wave of hair on Miss Clairville's brow, and again he +saw the child in the basket chair at Hawthorne, but he frantically +stifled the thought and forbore to question, and the next moment she +was weeping and pushing him towards the door. + +"Go now," she sobbed. "Go before it gets darker. You might lose your +way. Go--go." + +He went out at once, pulling the door after him as well as he could and +ran through the hollow till he reached the road, where it seemed +brighter. The rain gave signs of falling less steadily, when, as often +occurs after a protracted storm, there came a lull, followed by one +terrific and astounding burst and explosion of thunder, accompanied by +a vivid blue and orange blaze and afterwards complete silence and a +great calm. The storm now rolled onward, having spent itself in that +locality; but knowing from the sound that some place or object had been +struck, Ringfield stopped, stepped behind a mass of boulders and +juniper bushes and looked back down into the little hollow. The barn +was apparently uninjured but the noble pine had suffered. The ripping, +tearing sound he had heard was explained by the sight of a broad +orange-coloured strip or band that ran longitudinally from the top of +the tree to the bottom, indicating where the bark had been peeled off +by the force of the fierce current. As he stood gazing thus at the +seared and stricken pine, the door opened from the side of the barn and +Miss Clairville slowly stepped out, followed by a man in whom, with an +exclamation of extremest repulsion and surprise, Ringfield clearly +recognized Edmund Crabbe. + +The shock of this and the full meaning of it set Ringfeld's nerves and +pulses tingling, and he stepped farther back into the shade as he +watched them. They advanced to the great pine, examined it, and he +could see that Crabbe's arm went around her waist. The guide himself +seemed, even at that distance, to be more neatly dressed than usual, he +wore a tweed cap with coat to match and did not look as if he had been +drinking, but as with him that was the sign that he was about at his +worst, Ringfield could only turn away in disgust and pursue his way to +Clairville. It was not a pleasant thought that Crabbe must have been +in the loft, while a somewhat tender scene had been enacted, and he +suddenly felt a contempt and pity for the woman who could play two men +at the same time in such barefaced fashion. Then, as lovers will, he +rebuked himself for this; perhaps Crabbe had taken refuge in the loft +without her knowledge, and the great final crash had brought him down; +perhaps she had known he was there, but was ashamed of producing him in +a semi-drunken condition, perhaps--then Ringfield saw the distant +lights of the Manor House and hastened towards them. A little farther +on he overtook the priest, leading Poussette's horse and buggy, and it +was not long before they were able to take off their wet clothes at +madame's fire and exchange confidences about the storm. + +In the large kitchen were also Mr. and Mrs. Abercorn, Dr. Renaud and +Poussette, and the priest, who was naturally held accountable for +Pauline's safety, reported her as resting comfortably in the barn. + +Ringfield did not say much; of Crabbe no mention was made by the +others, and it was probable that nobody had seen him, or dreamt of his +being out in the neighbourhood on such a day. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +IN THE BARN + + "Poor now in tranquil pleasure, he gave way + To thoughts of troubled pleasure." + + +Pauline had yielded to an erratic but harmless impulse in driving off +recklessly with the priest; her nature, so long restrained by residence +in a dull, circumscribed village instead of a lively town, needed some +such prank to reanimate and amuse it. She seized the reins +dramatically, insisted upon driving, and Father Rielle was nothing +loath since he did not care about nor understand horses very well, and +since it was dangerously novel and bitterly pleasant to sit and watch +Miss Clairville. Her fine features and splendid colouring showed well +against the dull background of sky and forest; the ribbon on which her +muff was slung, tied moreover in a dashing bow, was a bit of true +scarlet matching some rosettes in her hat. As she looked behind for a +wilful instant she caught sight of Ringfield sitting up stiffly on the +two fat laps provided by Amable Poussette and the doctor, and her laugh +rang musically in the priest's ear. + +"Poussette's is the fastest horse in the village!" cried she. "See--I +will give him a little of the whip. _Voila_--now he will think he has +his master behind him. _March-ch, donc, animal_. Get up--bigosh, +_excusez, mon pere_. That's it! Watch him now! I'm not an actress +for nothing. See now--he'll be galloping presently, but trotting is +all we care for, my good beast! So you are going to bring Mme. +Poussette back with you, I understand,--tear the fair lady from my poor +brother!" + +"Who has told you that _canard_?" said the priest, folding his arms and +leaning back as far as the little _caleche_ would allow. "No, I did +not think of doing so to-day; you doubtless heard me talking of the +matter to Dr. Renaud. I cannot tell what you think of it, but in the +absence of all servants it seems to me that Poussette's wife should +return to her home while you both make new arrangements for managing +his house. But perhaps you intend remaining there to-night, +mademoiselle?" + +"I have no such intention, _mon pere_, I assure you. I am glad Henry +has recovered; I shall see him once or twice, of course, and then I +shall return to Montreal and not come back here for years--if I can +help it. But look at the snow! It is coming faster and faster and +growing darker and darker. The wolf's throat is sunshine compared to +this. Shall we turn back?" + +"No!" said the _cure_ with his sour face steadily turned toward her. +"I do not mind the snow nor shall you. I would drive so--like +this--beside you and looking at you, to the end of the world, of life. +Drive faster, faster yet, till we leave those others behind. Take that +opening there on your left. I know of a shelter that will +serve--Leduc's barn--you may remember it. Arrived there, you must hear +me." + +Pauline, irritated though not greatly surprised, stooped, and making a +small hard ball of the wet snow lying thickly around their feet, flung +it backwards into the priest's face; he caught her left wrist, held it +in a tight grip, and although she was a strong woman, he was the +stronger, being a man, and she could not escape. The darkness closed +down upon them, the snow came down in blinding, tickling clouds, and in +her anger and distress she could not drive properly. Poussette's horse +being accustomed to being driven to the barn, went in that direction of +his own accord, and thus they arrived in a whirlwind of snow--the +priest still holding her wrist with something else than sourness +showing in his thin features--a few minutes before the hail commenced +falling. Pauline, dragging herself as she descended to the ground from +an over-zealous admirer, ran into the shelter and tried to fasten the +door, but the other, leaving Poussette's horse and _voiture_ to fare as +best they might, was quick upon her heels and followed her inside the +barn. + +Thus they escaped the worst portion of the storm, but the darkness +endured; they remained standing looking at one another, and Pauline, +though she was both cold and frightened, managed to give her habitual +laugh. + +"Because you are 'Father Rielle,'" she exclaimed, "you think you are +entitled to pursue a recreant sheep of the flock even over here! Oh! +it is not on account of the storm--I know that--that you follow me! I +have seen this coming for some time, and I have feared it!" + +The priest staggered, passed his hands over his eyes and made a hasty +sign of the cross. Opportunity, propinquity, a sudden +temptation--these had assailed him and for one moment all the devils of +hell were let loose in this good man's brain and heart. The silence +seemed eternal that followed on his movement; as the air lightened +around them she fancied his countenance distorted by suffering, and his +averted eyes spoke of his shame and contrition. + +"My daughter," he said at length, "fear what you will but never again +fear me. You witness my remorse, my tears--yes, behold, my +daughter--and you know, you tell yourself that I cannot, will not harm +you--nor any woman. But now you would hear what I would say, because +you must not refuse. You have left our Holy Catholic communion, you +are no longer daughter of the true Church, is it not so, my daughter?" + +An old habit asserting itself, Pauline automatically answered; "_Oui, +mon pere._" + +"You have gone on the stage, you have developed into a brilliant but +wayward coquette; you have for your friend a woman who has left her +husband and thinks about marrying another. Is this not so, my +daughter?" + +And again, despite her experience of his singular lapse from conduct, +Pauline's lips answered: "Oui, mon pere." + +"Worst of all, you have set yourself to fascinate and wound this young +man, this stranger among us, and you are leading him on to think of you +night and day, I suppose, as I do!" + +"_Mon pere_--do not confess it!" + +"Why not? You will not use your knowledge of my secret since you will +not be believed. I--thanks to my training and the example of my +glorious Church--can choke, can bridle, can conceal this passion--but +not so this other. Can you deny that you have been with him, +encouraged him?" + +Pauline would have answered hotly, her rudimentary fear of the _cure_ +disappearing before the mention of Ringfield, when her eyes fell upon a +book that lay at the foot of the ladder, a small green book that she +knew well by sight, having read in it with Edmund Crabbe years before, +when he was known as "Mr. Hawtree" and had been her lover. The book +was a collection of poems by Edwin Arnold, and back into her memory +stole those passionate lines:-- + + The one prize I have longed for + Was once to find the goal of those dear lips; + Then I could rest, not else; but had you frowned + And bade me go, and barred your door upon me, + Oh, Sweet! I think I should have come with lamps + And axes, and have stolen you like gold! + + +She stood staring at the cover, for upon it lay three or four large +spreading dark patches; were these wet spots caused by the snow? Her +eyes, then traversing the ladder, noticed footprints, and cakes of +blackened snow upon the steps. To whom belonged these tell-tale signs +of occupation? Glancing farther up she saw the end of a stick +protruding from the loose piles of straw that trickled over the top of +the ladder, and she recognized the stick, a stout one with a peculiar +ferule that also belonged to Crabbe. He must be in the loft, either +sleeping or keeping silence, and now she found herself in the most +uncomfortable position a woman can possibly occupy; to her already +crowded list of lovers had been added another, and as the quarry of +four strongly contrasted men, each possessing more than average +persistence of character, she must have excited pity and sympathy in +the breasts of women less fatally attractive, but scarcely one thrill +of envy. She recognized in the priest potentially the fiercest lover +of them all; a man of only two or three ideas, this one of cruel, +hopeless, unattainable passion for herself would easily dominate him +and render him, fresh to the emotions and therefore ignorant of how to +control and deal with them, utterly unreasonable, even it might be +violent and offensive. What wonder then if her thoughts like her eyes +turned toward the loft above her. Despite her flighty tendencies, her +town and theatre friendships and quarrels, her impulsive and emotional +nature, Crabbe was the only man who had gained an ascendancy over her; +for him she had forsaken prudence, but for him only, and strongest of +associations, closest of ties--he alone had appealed to and satisfied +her physical side. She had given him much but not all, and now in this +moment of hatred of the _cure_, of herself, and a moving disgust at the +conflicting facts of her difficult life, she thought of the Englishman +as a desired refuge. There came crowding into her mind those small +delicate acts and gestures which make as we say "the gentleman." She +recollected Crabbe as he was when he first presented himself at the +_metairie_, the self-possession of his easy manner, subtly tinctured +with that dose of romance necessary to her imagination; the unconscious +way, to do him justice, in which his talk of blight and exile and +ruined fortunes had aroused all her dormant sympathies. + +"Oh," she cried, hoping that if in the loft he would hear, "all this is +so dreadful, so different from the life I meant to lead, from the life +I believe I was intended to lead! Hear me, Father Rielle: all men I +hate and abhor, all, save one, and not the one you are thinking of! +Hear me again: if I can find the money I will leave Clairville as I +said, for good, for ever. I shall leave the theatre in Montreal, leave +Canada, and I will go where my talents shall be understood and +requited. It is true I have a temper and a tongue. It is true I am +hard to teach and hard to get on with, and how do I know--perhaps there +lurks in me a trace of that I fear so in Henry--yet I am resolved to +try. If you mean what you say, and are not mad in your turn, will you +help me to carry this out? I would leave at once, make my way abroad, +study and become the actress I know I could if I got my chance. +Perhaps in another country, perhaps if I could reach Paris, where I am +not known, where it is not known, where----" + +She stopped, following the priest's gaze so that both saw now what +happened, the heap of straw at the top of the ladder was dislodged, the +stick belonging to Crabbe slid down to the floor of the barn and the +moment after he himself appeared. His face was somewhat red and +swollen but his attire was neater than usual, and the step with which +he descended the ladder almost normally steady, besides, he appeared on +the side of morality, and as champion of feminine rights made a better +figure than one would have deemed possible in so broken a man. + +"Sorry to interrupt this _tete-a-tete_," said he, stopping to pick bits +of straw off himself, "but it seemed about time that somebody +interfered. I perceive Miss Clairville is rather tired, and--look +here, Father Rielle--I give you two minutes by this old turnip or +hour-glass of mine--it was with me on the prairie and may not keep very +good time, but it ticks--I give you two minutes to apologize to +mademoiselle for your--ah--detention of her, and then you may leave us +for the Arctic regions outside. Polar, by Heaven, hail falling as big +as walnuts!" + +It was true; the darkness still reigned and a terrific noise, caused by +the large stones rattling on the roof and splintering the distant +forest branches. The priest on hearing that authoritative drawl behind +him, cowered, his fear of personal violence from Crabbe, who bore a bad +name, mastering his ecclesiastical dignity; but as he perceived that +the guide was fairly sober he gathered courage and replied in rapid +French:-- + +"You will not I hope be so evil-minded, monsieur, as to misunderstand +my sentiments towards Mademoiselle Clairville, whom I have known from +her childhood. I am only saying to her what I have felt for a long +time--I would be the means of saving her from herself, from such +friends as you, and from the ills attendant on the profession she has +chosen. My affection for her is solely that of the parish priest who +has watched her career and felt saddened by it, yet who would reward +evil by good." + +"How would you reward her? By making love to her?" + +"I have been in communication with the Mother Superior of a convent +near Three Rivers, my birthplace. There is a fine appointment there, +waiting for a person of talent--gifted--to instruct in elocution and +possibly music. I thought----" + +"You thought it would suit me!" cried Pauline, in a frenzy of disgust +and irritation. "Me! For the stage and its triumphs a convent with +simpering nuns! For Paris with its gay shops and drives, the town of +Three Rivers, Province of Quebec, _dans le Bas Canada_! Oh! I see +myself, thank you, in that _galere_, I assure you! No--no--that +honourable extinction is not for me yet awhile. _Apres, mon pere, +apres--apres_, I may return and be glad of the haven, but not now." + +"The two minutes are up," said Crabbe laconically. "I'm sorry to turn +you out in such an afternoon, Father Rielle, but it is best for you and +for mademoiselle. The hail's not quite so big as it was. I advise you +to go at once." + +The priest, divining some understanding between Crabbe and Pauline, and +gradually calling to mind certain episodes of several years back, +glanced from one to the other. + +"I am not sure that I am not myself in the way," he said grimly. "Such +rapid and excessive sensitiveness on behalf of Mlle. Clairville is +creditable, but scarcely, I should think, its own reward." + +"Do you deny that your being here is a menace to Miss Clairville's +peace and that you--you a frocked and tonsured priest--have addressed +words of love to her? If I did not utterly despise you, I should kick +you out into the storm." + +"You need do neither. I do not deny that I love Miss Clairville; I +deny only that I have menaced or threatened her in any form. I say +this to you--man of unclean, unholy habits--the priest is human. He is +as God made him. He lives or dies, loves or hates by the will of God. +When I look at Miss Clairville, I think of her as the possible helpmeet +of my life, had it been spent in the service of this world instead of +in the service of God. I think of her, monsieur, even reverently, +purely, as the possible mother of my children." + +This astonishing speech had much effect upon Pauline, who commenced +weeping; the priest's voice--always a beautiful one--had dropped with a +mournful cadence on the four last words, and Crabbe did not reply. + +"Who can do more than that?" resumed the _cure_. "But that I cannot +offer. Such care and worship, such devotion and tenderness I may not +give. What then! I can at least be the instrument which shall shape +her future career. I can point the way and deliver her from all these +temptations of the world, the flesh and the devil. I do so now. I ask +her to renounce the world now, at this moment, and to enter upon a new +life to which it shall be my high and glorious privilege to introduce +her." + +The subtlety of the priest saved him. The noble melancholy of his +words and gestures was abundantly convincing, and suddenly the +situation, at one time threatening to become unpleasantly melodramatic, +became normal. The reversion to the light commonplaces and glib +phrases of society was felt in Crabbe's careless tones as he spoke of +the weather, adding:-- + +"'Tis never too late to be polite. I'm putting my watch back into my +pocket, and I'll go with you, Father Rielle. My refuge--a temporary +one--is no longer needed, it's lightening very considerably, and I +suppose you'll be going on to Clairville." + +"But what am I to do?" exclaimed Pauline. "I would rather not be left +here alone!" + +"I am afraid you must make up your mind to that. Poussette's horse is +hardly fit to be driven. Let Father Rielle take him to the Manor House +and then come back for you with one of the others." + +This was agreed upon, the two men left at once and for the space of ten +or fifteen minutes she was alone. At the end of that time she could +hear footsteps on a rapid run, and soon Edmund Crabbe re-entered the +barn. The cool air had invigorated him, and he flung off his cap and +faced her. + +"I could not leave you in that summary fashion, after so long," he +said, "after so long, Pauline! Well--I have lived to be of some +service to you--or so I think. Whether Platonic or not, you had better +not encourage his reverence to that extent again, do you hear? A +veritable Cassius of a man! And, by the way, you are looking very well +just now, lady dear. I never saw you handsomer, Pauline!" + +Miss Clairville's colour, already high, leaped more redly in her cheeks +and she trembled; the ancient power that this man held over her, the +ring of his rich English inflections, the revival of habit and +association made her weak as water, so that she suddenly sat down and +could find nothing to say. But Crabbe was quite at his ease, the +encounter with Father Rielle had sharpened his wits and given him a +restored opinion of himself, and in Pauline he saw a very handsome and +attractive, warm-hearted and talented woman, still young and once very +dear to him. The dormant affection in both was near the surface and +Crabbe, knowing from her silence and downcast eyes how she felt, put +some check on himself. + +"Small use to either of us," he sighed, "to renew those passionate +scenes of our youth! But I can still admire you and wish with all my +heart--my heart you doubtless think black and altogether corrupt, +Pauline--that you were for me to win afresh and wear openly this time, +and that I might offer you a future unsullied. I suppose that your +Methodist parson is after you, too, and that he will be the lucky one! +He's handsome, d----n him--and steady as mountains; he does thy work, O +Duty, and knows it not. I have little doubt but that flowers bend +before him in their beds, that fragrance in his footing treads, and +that the most ancient heavens----what's the rest of it? But you know, +Pauline, you know you'll never be happy with him!" + +Miss Clairville murmured something he did not catch, and it was a +marvel to see how completely she lost her gay, assertive air, her +dashing theatrical address in the presence of the guide. + +"He's been at me several times about reforming. Well, if I did what +would there be for me here? A big, long purse, Pauline, that's what I +want--a big, long purse, my girl, and then you and I might leave this +place and all these old harrowing associations. What about that +Hawthorne business? Do you ever hear?" + +"Sometimes," whispered Miss Clairville. "Antoine, as you may have +noticed, acts for me. I give him the money, but I never go myself. I +could not bear to see it--to see her--and it is not necessary." + +"Poor girl!" said Crabbe, with much feeling. "It's hard on you, damned +hard, I know. What's the matter? Oh--the swearing! I'm sorry, live +too much by myself--forget myself. But Pauline, almost I think Father +Rielle's advice will have to be followed. It would be a haven--a +haven--better than the stage. If I could reform, could change my skin +and lose my spots--but no! Even the fulminations of your latest +admirer cannot work that miracle--I'm incorrigible! When I think of +what I was, of what I might have been, and of what I am, despair seizes +on me and then I'm only fit for--the bottle! There's no help for me, +I'm afraid. Why, Pauline, this is Heaven's truth--I'm not perfectly +sober now." + +As he spoke, again were heard footsteps on a run outside the barn. + +"I know you're not," said Miss Clairville in agitation, "but I don't +shrink from you as I used to do. Perhaps it was my fault. Oh--who can +this be? Father Rielle returning?" + +"Hardly. He was told to drive back for you. It's some one seeking +shelter, like ourselves. Hark--the hail is stopping, and now the +thunder and lightning and a good old-fashioned midwinter storm!" + +"I know who it is," said she, still more hurriedly, and pushing Crabbe +towards the ladder,--"it is Mr. Ringfield. You must go back to the +loft. I could not have him meet you here. He thinks--he thinks--you +know what he thinks." + +"And he's not far wrong, either," said Crabbe complacently. "But +perhaps I'd better do as you say; don't detain him now. When he's gone +I'll get you out of this somehow." + +Thus in a few minutes Ringfield entered the barn, found Pauline, as he +supposed alone; but afterwards, watching from the high road, saw the +guide emerge and noted the familiar relation in which they stood in +front of the stricken pine. + +More than simple religious feeling entered at this moment Ringfield's +young and untried heart, his vanity was deeply wounded, and the thought +that Miss Clairville could allow Edmund Crabbe to caress her was like +irritating poison in his veins. Yet he was in this respect unfair and +over-severe; the fact being that Pauline very soon observed, on coming +into closer contact with the guide, the traces of liquor, and she then +adroitly kept him at a distance, for in that moment of disenchantment +Ringfield's image again came uppermost. + +It was not possible for her to be wise either before or after the +event; she had not sufficient coldness nor shrewdness of character to +enable her to break with all these conflicting surroundings and begin +life over again as she had eloquently described to the priest, for +without money she could not leave St. Ignace, and she could not raise +the money without taking some situation which might unfit her for the +stage and prolong the time of probation too far into middle life. +Pauline might age early, and at thirty-five she saw herself maturing +into a gaunt and grizzled dame, incapable of all poetic and youthful +impersonations. To be thus crippled was torture to her lively +imagination, and in this _danse macabre_ of thought, a grim procession +of blasted hopes, withered ideals and torturing ambitions, her mind +gave itself first to one issue, then to another, while it was clear +that her position at St. Ignace was fast growing untenable and that +something would have to be done. + +To live at Poussette's on the charity of its host was, although the +sister of the seigneur, to invite insult. To yield a second time to +the ingratiating addresses of the guide was to lose her self-respect, +while to indulge in and encourage a pure affection for Ringfield was a +waste of time. She recognized the truth of Crabbe's candid +statement--how could she do the young man such an injustice as to marry +him! + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +REVELRY BY NIGHT + + "Two passions both degenerate, for they both + Began in honour, ..." + + +The scene in the kitchen of the Manor House presented a forcible +contrast to the wild world without. The near approach of winter and +the news that M. Clairville was convalescent and well enough to receive +visitors had brought the Abercorns from Hawthorne to pay their somewhat +belated respects--they had never called before--and their arrival at +the _metairie_ created much astonishment. The rate at which the mare +had raced through the Turneresque "Hail, Snow and Rain" relaxed as she +neared Lac Calvaire, and they were able to disembark (in the language +of the country) in safety if not in comfort at the door opened by Mme. +Poussette. The parishes being nine miles apart, one entirely French, +the other mostly English, not much gossip penetrated, and the Rev. +Marcus and his wife were startled to hear that Henry Clairville had +left his room, walked all over his house and even reached half-way to +the bridge one afternoon. But as they were both cold and fatigued, +madame led them (and shortly after Dr. Renaud and Poussette as well), +by dark and tortuous paths, to her kitchen, a large room built on the +generous scale of the seventeenth century, with a deep overhanging +fireplace, and thick, arched recesses serving as closets, and furnished +with swinging shelves and numerous bins where the provisions sent in +periodically by Poussette were safely stored, thus being well protected +from the rigours of a Lower Canadian winter. + +Mrs. Abercorn was glad to come to the fire, her short squat figure lost +in the depths of a chair which Mme. Poussette had found in one of the +disused rooms, padded and carved, but also torn and moth-eaten; +nevertheless a comfortable refuge on such a day, and soon the reverend +lady sank into a soothing slumber, while her husband read from a book +he carried in his pocket. + +It grew dark and madame was lighting a couple of lamps when the priest +and Ringfield entered. Explanations were in order, but as neither of +them mentioned Edmund Crabbe, Miss Clairville's true position was not +made known, and it was arranged that as soon as somebody's clothes were +sufficiently dried and somebody's horse rubbed down and fed, somebody +should pick her up at Leduc's barn and so return with her to St. Ignace. + +"Of course _you_ will go, Dr. Renaud," said Mrs. Abercorn, waking up +abruptly and joining in the conversation with her usual judicial air. +"But take some supper first." + +"Has not mademoiselle already waited overlong?" exclaimed Poussette. +"It is nearly six o'clock and dark--shall I not return now, and bring +her back with me?" + +"I think not," said the doctor, who partly understood the situation. +"She will not expect to reach Clairville at all to-night, and, as Mrs. +Abercorn says, as soon as I have something to eat, and a little to wash +it down with--I myself shall go for her. Here, Poussette--off with +your coat! Stir yourself now, and bring us the best the manor affords. +It's no secret that since Mme. Archambault and her tribe have cleared +out, we are masters of all contained in these generous closets--these +roomy cellars I have heard of so often. Madame--the cloth, if you +please, the dishes, the plates! Poussette--the wine, the old liqueurs, +the glasses!" + +"But sir, consider the fate of ma'amselle!" cried Poussette piteously. +"She is alone--oh, poor lady--in Leduc's barn, without light, without +warmth, with nothing to eat or drink! How then--do you wish to desert +her?" + +"Not I," said the doctor composedly. "But I know mademoiselle, she is +true Canadienne, not afraid of a little snow, a little storm! And the +secret of my profession is--always to eat and always to drink when good +food and good drink are going. Madame, make haste there!" + +"If I could assist you,----" began Mr. Abercorn, but stopped, for his +glance wandered to his wife, who had never approved of Miss Clairville. + +"You must not dream of such a thing, Marcus. Leave me here in this +strange house, and go back by yourself along that awful road? +Certainly not. Perhaps Father Rielle is going that way sooner than +you, Dr. Renaud. Are you not, sir, anxious to--what do you call +it--_chercher_ mademoiselle?" Despite her knowledge of French it was +the way of this lady to address the inhabitants of the countryside in +English, it "accustomed them to it" and, she fervently hoped, tended to +bring about the ultimate "Anglifying of the Province," to borrow a term +much used by that distinguished patriot, Louis Honore Papineau, +previous to 1857. + +The priest, who had as yet no intention of returning to the barn, +preferring that others should encounter the uncertain temper of one so +recently tried in uncommon and painful ways, professed much interest in +her plight, remarking, however, that he feared he did not drive well +enough to find his way over the plateau of rock which lay between the +road and the shelter. + +"Then there is only Mr. Ringfield left!" exclaimed Mrs. Abercorn, much +as if she were marshalling people in to dinner. "Yes, yes--_you_ shall +go for her, poor thing, but probably she deserves it; living on your +charity, I hear, Mr. Poussette, and the other woman too; shocking, I +call it! And belonging to quite an old family, _quite_ old, I believe." + +The idea of Pauline not paying anything towards her board while staying +at Poussette's was painfully new to Ringfield; he had never thought of +the matter, but now recalled her chronic condition of impecuniosity, +and he saw directly how humiliating this must be for her and why it was +necessary that she should find something to do. Henry Clairville, her +natural and proper protector, could not apparently help her, the +Englishman was fully as impotent, and Ringfield at once decided, while +listening to the conversation, to seek her again and offer her a part +of his stipend, the first instalment of which had been paid over by +Poussette that morning. Everything favoured his quiet withdrawal, for +the heat of the fire, the stacks of celery, and the splendid cognac, +smuggled from the islands of St. Pierre and Miquelon, and purchased by +Poussette for twenty cents a bottle, were beginning to tell on both Mr. +Abercorn and the doctor. + +"Twenty cents, did you say?" hastily inquired the former, "I never +heard anything like that! I think I must, I really must have a taste, +just a drop, just a sip--thank you, Dr., thank you. My dear--a little +for you too? No? Well, well, after all that exposure I do not +believe, I really do _not_ believe a little would hurt you. Ah! that's +it, Dr., a small wineglassful for Mrs. Abercorn. There, my dear, I am +sure you require it." + +"Do you no harm," said Dr. Renaud. "'Tis fine stuff, the best French. +Makes one feel like a boy." And he began to sing. + + "Quand j'etais sur mon pere, + Je n'avais rien a faire + Quand j'etais sui mon pere + Qu'une femme a chercher. + A present j'en ai une, + A present j'en ai une + Qui me fait enrage. + + +"Change that to '_en roulant ma boule_' and I'm with you," said Mr. +Abercorn, and the Doctor took him at his word; Mrs. Abercorn becoming +very sleepy, was provided with rugs and pillows on a sofa in the hall, +while the two gentlemen sipped cognac and munched celery till slumbers +also overtook them. + +Ringfield then moved. "Where is M. Clairville?" he asked Mme. +Poussette, tilting his chair back as she passed. + +"In his bed, M'sieu. He overwalked this morning and knows nothing of +the storm, and after a _petit verre_ of this good cognac he has gone to +sleep. It is good for the brain--this cognac; will not M'sieu join the +others?" + +"No, thank you," he said, smiling, "You know I never touch these +things. But I was thinking of going out to see the night. Surely the +rain is almost over! Do I go this way?" + +"The other door, if you please, M'sieu." + +Poussette's anxiety as he noted Ringfield's departure was ludicrous. +He overturned bottles, knocked down a chair, while he cast frightened +glances at the priest sitting reading his breviary austerely under the +lamp. How could he escape? Ah--the horses--they had not been properly +attended to! The next moment he was off, out of the kitchen and +hastily rummaging in the large and dreary stables for a lantern. A +whole row of these usually hung from the ceiling of a small outhouse +close at hand, and Ringfield had already taken one, lighted it, and was +a quarter of a mile along the road; Poussette, fearing this, made such +insane haste, "raw haste, half-sister to Delay," that the blanketing of +the horse and the other preliminaries took more time than usual, and he +had hardly driven out of the gate when Father Rielle, who had changed +his mind, also left the kitchen from where his sharp ears had caught +these various sounds, and searching for a third lantern, found one, +lighted it, and set off on foot behind Poussette in the buggy. + +Thus--a little procession of three men and three lanterns was +progressing along the slippery, lonely road towards the barn where Miss +Clairville was awaiting rescue, the first of whom to arrive was +Ringfield. Striding to the half-open door he boldly called her name, +and shoving the lantern inside perceived her to be entirely alone. + +"Oh--it is you then! I am so glad--it seems hours since you went away. +I have not been exactly frightened, for I know these woods and there is +nothing alive in them, but the position of this barn--so remote, so +down by itself in the little hollow--if anything did attack me, my +voice would never be heard." + +"But you were not alone when I left you! You may not be alone now!" + +"How did you find that out?" her face changed; she had not calculated +on his having seen Crabbe. + +"I think I knew all the time; your restlessness, your anxiety to get me +away, your pushing me down on that box and changing the subject--why, +when I saw him come out, and--and wind his arm around your waist, then +I knew you had been lying to me! How could you do it!" He waved the +lantern towards the loft but could see nothing there. + +"He is gone, gone," said she earnestly; "he has gone to the village to +get some rig or other and come back with it for me, but of course I +would rather go with you." + +"I cannot believe a word you say!" exclaimed Ringfield in an agony, +setting the lantern down. "Not a word--not a word. Do you think you +can play all your life like this with men? You cannot play with me at +all events. There are forces here (he struck his breast), passions +here, instincts here I never dreamed of, I never knew I possessed. It +is not good, nor wise, nor necessary for me to love you, Pauline, but I +do--I do! And you must fear them, you must respect them, these +instincts, these forces, as much in me as you would do in other men." + +"I do, I do! Only I do not like to see you and that other man +together--I always feel something happening, I do not know what! but I +will tell you all about it. Father Rielle drove me to this place; we +got out, came in, and then he talked most foolishly, most wildly--hurt +my wrist--see here! And while I was wondering how I could put him off, +get rid of him, I discovered that the other man was in the loft. I saw +his stick, then I heard him; and then he came down and he and Father +Rielle went away together." + +"But he came back--for I saw him, I saw you both. You went outside to +look at the tree." + +"Yes--he went away, but he came back, and while we were talking I heard +you coming and so--and--so----" + +"You got him out of the way in time! Then after I left he was here +again with you?" + +"For a little while, just a little while." + +Ringfield suddenly snatched her hands and bent his stern offended gaze +upon her. + +"You have been hours with that man, hours--I know it. And to pretend +to me that there was no one there, while you allowed me to open my mind +and heart to you--the indignity of it, the smallness and vileness of +it; oh!--can not you see how I suffer in my pride for myself as well as +in my affection for you? As for the man, he knew no better, and I +suppose he wished for nothing better, than to listen and look, to watch +us, to spy----" + +He choked with sorrowful wrath and temper; an access of jealous, +injured fury entirely possessed him for an instant, then with a great +effort, and an inward prayer, he partly regained his ministerial calm. + +"You must see that I am right," he resumed; "he calls himself a +gentleman--you call him one; but is that a gentlemanly thing to do? +Gentleman? To stay here in hiding and let us talk on as we did! And +what does it signify that he is or has been 'an Oxford man'--the term +has no relevancy here, no meaning or sense whatever. Tell me this once +more, for I have grave doubts--has he any legal right over you?" + +Pauline resolved to answer this question truthfully. How would +Ringfield accept the delicate distinction of a moral right involving +only those ties, those obligations, known to themselves and not to the +world? + +"No," she said, firmly. Then a great burst of colour filled her face +as she continued. "But he should have had. Now you know. Now you +know all." And Ringfield, as almost any other man would have done, +mistakenly concluded that she was the unfortunate mother of the +unfortunate child in the distant parish, Angeel! In this, perhaps the +crucial moment of his whole existence, his manhood, his innate simple +strength, his reason and his faith, all wavered, tottered before him; +this experience, this knowledge of evil at first hand in the person of +one so dear, flamed round him like some hideous blast from the hot +furnace of an accepted hell, and he realized the terrors of things he +had read about and seen depicted--lost souls, dark and yet lurid pits +of destruction, misshapen beasts and angry angels--the blood flowed +from his arteries and from his stricken heart up to his frightened +brain, and surged there while he stood, not raising his eyes to this +ill-starred woman. It was child's play to read one's Bible; it was +child's play to read about sin; it was bald and commonplace to receive +converts after service, or to attend death-beds of repentance; here was +that suffering entity, the Sinner, alone with him, weak in her strength +and strong through her weakness, and with her delicate, guilty, +perverted impulses he had to deal, and no longer with pulpit +abstractions. But while they stood thus, another turn in the affairs +which revolved around the lonely barn carried with it a new sound; a +horse's trot was plainly heard, likewise the humorous lilt of a shanty +song. + +"It is Mr. Poussette!" whispered Pauline, rushing to the lantern and +extinguishing it. "He is coming for me and I shall have to go with +him. I can manage him--better than the priest--but you--what must I do +with you? He is a gossip--that one--and it will work you harm in your +religion, in your church, if he finds you here with me." + +"Oh, why are you so impetuous!" returned Ringfield. "You should not +have blown out the light! He knew doubtless that I was coming for +you--there would be nothing in that. Where is the lantern--I will +light it again." + +"You cannot reach it, I have hidden it down behind those boxes. No, +no--I could not have him find you here with me. The loft--the loft! +There is the ladder!" + +And in two minutes he found himself, after scrambling up in the dark, +crawling about on his hands and knees in the same heap of straw that +had served to conceal Edmund Crabbe a few hours before, and doomed, in +his turn, to overhear the conversation of any who might be below. + +In a few moments the horse came to a standstill, and Poussette +approached, carrying his lantern, Miss Clairville receiving him with +just that successful mixture of hauteur and coquetry, which kept him +admiring but respectful. His delight at being the first, as he +supposed, to reach her, was as absurd as it was genuine, but there was +no delay, and she was soon comfortably wrapped up in Poussette's +_voiture_ and being rapidly driven to the manor-house. When he thought +it was quite safe, Ringfield shook himself free from the hay and straw +that encumbered him, and prepared to descend the ladder, but he had +scarcely enjoyed the luxury of stretching his long limbs (for he could +not stand upright in the loft) when he heard footsteps approaching, and +looking down, he perceived Father Rielle enter the barn, lantern in +hand, and with thin, high-nosed, sour countenance depicting intense +surprise, eagerly explore the place for Pauline. Ringfield held his +breath, but had enough sense to lie down again in the straw, and feign +slumber; happily the priest did not concern himself with the loft, but +the absence of the bird he had expected to find, caged and waiting, +seemed to mystify him. He remained for several minutes lost in +thought, then setting the lantern on one box, moved others around, +strewed them with a thick layer of hay he found on the floor, and lying +down with his cloak pulled well over him, settled to a night's rest. +Ringfield, thus imprisoned, passed for his part a miserable night; he +dared not move and his excited brain kept him from sleeping. Towards +four o'clock the lantern flickered out; at six, while it was yet dark, +the priest arose and went his way, and an hour later Ringfield also +retraced his steps to the village. Like a man in an exceedingly +unpleasant, but most distinct dream, he found himself bound in a net of +intrigue from which there seemed no chance of escape. It was Sunday +morning and at eleven he would have to take charge of the service and +address the usual congregation as Father Rielle had already partly +done, the early mass at St. Jean Baptiste-on-the-Hill being held at +half past seven. + +The road between the grim leafless trees was now swept clean of both +snow and hail by the streams of heavy rain which had poured the +previous night, and the air was mild. Much havoc had been wrought in +places by the furious storm; the rocky ground was littered with +branches and twigs of all sizes; rivers of yellow mud ran where the +clay road should be, and against this desolation there glowed +occasional plants of bright green, low along the ground, that had +escaped the winter's rages of a high level. Crows were silhouetted +against the pale blue sky laced with streamers of white, and spring +seemed to be in the air rather than late autumn; the excited birds +called to each other as they flew high over the forest, as if to hail +this pleasant morning, a contrast to the stormy night. Suddenly the +sun shone through those cloudy gossamers and irradiated the bright +green ferns and orange lichens, drawing the eye to the cross of gold +that topped Father Rielle's fine church. Ringfield went out of his way +to look at the fall; it was much swollen from the rain and thundered +over its brown rocks more loudly than he had ever heard it. Above the +bridge were swaying large quantities of floating timber, washed down by +the violence of the storm, and as he looked he saw three of these +derelicts ride to the brink, and tumble over, and among them a little +dog, that had got out there he could not tell how, which for a moment +stood on a rolling tree whining piteously, and then fell with it down +those ledges of furious frothing waters. + +He ran close to the edge, and looked over, but there was no trace of +the animal for fully five minutes; then he saw its poor little body +emerge, battered, knocked about by stones and trees at the foot of the +great cascade, and at the sight his good sense and right feeling seemed +to return to him. He had temporarily, as he himself would have put it, +forgotten his Creator in the days of his youth; now all came back to +him; the duties of his position, its dignity and its obligations, and +he strove hard, by prayer and concentration of mind, to be as he had +been, and forget Miss Clairville and her tempestuous existence for a +while, as he took upon himself the work of the sacred day. He preached +later from the verse, "Yet in the Church I had rather speak five words +with my understanding, that by my voice I might teach others also, than +ten thousand words in an unknown tongue," and his voice and magnetic +delivery were not impaired. The little dog, the little dead dog, +figured in the sermon; like the Ancient Mariner when he leaned over the +rotting vessel's side and watched the beautiful living things moving in +the waters, his heart gushed out with sympathy as the image of the dog, +seeing his death, and recognizing no escape from it, remained with him. +The eyes of the poor animal seemed ever before him; large, pathetic +brown eyes, with soft patches of lighter brown fur above them, a +quivering nose and trembling paws--could he not have saved it? No--for +motion once given to those rolling logs, they would carry anything on +with them, and it was already too late when he first perceived it--a +small, shivering, unhappy little object--with fear shining in its large +eyes, those eyes he had seen looking directly at him as if to say: +"Help me, my brother, help me from this Death! Help me, for the love +of God, as you believe in God and in His Omnipotence and Goodness!" + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +A CONCERT DE LUXE + + "----Consumed + And vexed and chafed by levity and scorn, + And fruitless indignation, galled by pride, + Made desperate by contempt." + + +Ringfield, who had confessed to a fixed and abiding ignorance of the +stage, was also ignorant of music, except so far as he could recognize +a few patriotic airs and old-country ballads. Of church music there +was nothing worth speaking of or listening to in the Methodist +conventicles of those days, so that he brought an absolutely open mind +to a consideration of Miss Clairville's voice and method when he first +heard her sing. That had been one evening in an impromptu and +carelessly inadequate manner in company with Miss Cordova--whom, with +her bleached hair, green eyes accentuated by badly-drawn, +purplish-black eyebrows, and a shrill American accent, he was learning +to dislike and avoid as much as possible; but now a better opportunity +presented itself. A Grand Evening Concert, Concert de Luxe, was to be +given at Poussette's for the survivors of Telesphore Tremblay, a +woodcutter who lived at the edge of the forest of Fournier, and who had +generously left behind him one of those long legacies of thriving sons +and daughters for which French Canada is famous. The modest birth-rate +of the province of Quebec is not in these days of "race suicide" a +thing to be ungrateful for: many Tremblays remain, with their family of +eighteen or twenty-four, of sturdy, healthy boys and girls, for the +most part pure French, with an occasional streak of Scotch or Irish, +and a still rarer tincture of Indian. Frugal, sober, industrious, and +intelligent along certain limited lines, the habitant sets an example +of domestic bliss, which, in its unalterable and cheerful conviction of +what are the duties of parents to the state and to the Church, tends to +the eternal and unimpoverished perpetuation of the French Canadian +race. The Tremblays were named as follows, and as some interest +attaches to the choice of triple, and even quadruple, titles, largely +chosen from the saints of the Roman Calendar, augmented by memories of +heroes, queens, and great men in history, it is thought well to give +them at length. Thus the sons, nine in number, were:-- + + Alexis Paul Abelard + Joseph Maurice Cleophas + Hector Jerome Panteleon Etienne + Jean Gabriel + Jules Alfred Napoleon + Francois-Xavier Hercule Narcisse + Patrick Zenophile + Pierre Joseph Louis-Felippe + Alphonse Arthur + +while the daughters were:-- + + Minnie Archange + Emma Catherine Lucille + Victoria Cecile + Marie-Antoinette Colombe + Brigide Zenobie + Eugenie Louise Angelique + Bernardette Ste. Anne. + + +The dining-room at Poussette's was transformed for the occasion into a +moderate sized concert hall, by the erection of a platform at one end +by Antoine Archambault under Pauline's skilled directions, and by rows +of planks crosswise over chairs, the people of the village joining +forces with those at Poussette's, just as in towns others conspire +together to hold fetes and bazaars; but Ringfield stood afar off and +would have nothing to say to it. Miss Clairville intercepted him that +day after dinner and asked him to assist her. + +"I cannot think," said she, "how you remain so narrow in one respect, +while broad enough in others! I am sure that sermon yesterday about +the widow and the fatherless was the most beautiful thing I ever heard, +and that you have ever said. How then--is it wicked to get up a +concert, act, sing, and amuse ourselves, and all for a good object, +that we make money for the unfortunate? Ah--but I do not understand +you at all!" + +"No, I suppose I cannot expect you to do so," replied Ringfield sadly. +"But I have never approved of similar practices in the city, and it +seems to me that I must now include the country. Why not make a +personal canvass from house to house, through the mill, and so on, and +interest the members of our small community in the Tremblays--I believe +you would raise more." + +"Ah!" exclaimed Pauline, with a swift shrug of impatience; "see +now--how we should quarrel always! Quarrel? I think it would be one +grand, great long fight, if I--if I----" she faltered, and he noted +with quick passion the drooping of her ordinarily flashing eyes. + +"If you----" he repeated softly. "Oh--say the rest, or if you would +rather not--I will say it for you. You mean, if you could make up your +mind to leave all this, leave everything and everyone you have known, +and come to me--is that it?" + +They were for a moment completely alone, but as Antoine might approach +at any instant, laden with boughs of evergreen for decoration purposes, +conversation was of a stolen and hurried kind. Ringfield, in whom +first love had rapidly modified all natural shyness of the sex, was no +lukewarm lover; he took Pauline's hands, and bringing them to his lips, +pressed ardent kisses upon them, urging her to at once decide in his +favour and give him the right to guard her interests for ever. How or +where they would live was no matter, her best impulses must surely move +all her heart towards him, and at last he heard from her a soft answer, +which was nevertheless a clear affirmative, and now, not only hands but +lips joined in this rare moment, and Pauline, no longer estimating the +minister as one unlearned in the subtle lists of love, felt happier +than she had done for months. She had made, she told herself, the best +choice offered her, and for the moment she swore resolutions of holy +living and quiet dying, all in the character of Ringfield's wife. As +for him, the kiss had sealed all and changed all. + +"Now at last I shall live again, be a free agent, able to do my work! +You can have no conception of what it has been for me to get up my +sermons, for example, or to go about among the people here, thinking of +you, wondering if you would ever come to me or not. I have pictured +you going back to that other man, and I have hated you for it, hated +you both!" + +"Oh--hush, hush, be careful!" Miss Clairville, like all women, was now +afraid of the passion she had awakened. "Let us get to work--some one +may come in--you do not mind helping me now?" + +"Not--if you mean what you say! Not--if this time you are telling me +the truth!" + +"You cannot forget that lapse of mine, it seems. Well, I do mean it, I +do, I do! And you--you mean it too? You would take me even with my +past, and that past unexplained, with my faults and my temper?" + +"I have told you before that I would," he returned firmly. "No matter +what has happened; no matter what you have done, what anyone else has +done, I would, I will, I do take you! You are Heaven's choicest, +dearest gift to me--and what am I but an erring man trying to walk +straight and see straight!" + +Miss Clairville's eyes sparkled with mischief, while her mouth remained +solemn. + +"Then you must not talk of hating. Love your enemies, Mr. Ringfield, +and bless them that persecute you. That isn't in the Catholic Manual +in those words perhaps, but I have seen it somewhere, I think in the +Testament Nouveau. You see---- I am always 'good Methodist' as our +friend Poussette would say." + +"You shall be a better one in the future," exclaimed Ringfield, +tenderly, and as at that moment Poussette himself appeared, to lend +assistance, the interview was at an end. + +And now ensued a scene which a week earlier would have sorely tried +Ringfield's patience, but which now sufficed to amuse him, so secure +was he in Pauline's affection and so contented with her recent +promises. The evergreens were brought to her, seated on the platform +and wearing gloves to protect her hands; she cut off the branches, +trimmed them, and sometimes handed them to Poussette, and sometimes to +Ringfield, who then nailed them up at the back of the improvised dais +to make a becoming background; she also twined the smaller pieces into +festoons and ropes for the side of the room, and Poussette, who could +not keep his admiration a secret, hovered about her, continually +pressing her fingers as he received the greens, patting her back, +offering her the scissors and the ball of twine much more frequently +than she required them. It was a relief to the couple most concerned +when Miss Cordova entered, wearing an elaborately pleated and not too +clean violet dressing gown, over which she had put on a dark blue +blanket coat and her host's fur cap to keep her warm. Thus from the +ill-assorted trio was formed a comfortable _partie carree_, for +Poussette seemed careless as to which lady he attended and he still +bore the cornelian ring upon his finger. Ringfield, forgetting his +scruples, had promised to take the chair and introduce the artists; +Antoine was door-keeper, and Poussette, clad in tweeds, a white +waistcoat and tie of bright blue, would receive the guests in his own +effusive way, seating the ladies carefully on the fresh yellow planks +with great gallantry and address. + +At eight o'clock the room began to fill, the village turning out well, +and a few coming all the way from Hawthorne, among these Enderby, the +Cockney butcher, and his wife and daughter, and as soon as Ringfield +had made a few appropriate remarks, couched this time in safe and +secular terms, the first number was given, consisting of an orchestral +selection by four players belonging to St. Ignace and to the choir of +Father Rielle's big church, St. Jean-Baptiste-on-the-Hill. A cornet, +two fiddles and a flute rendered the music with good time and fair +intonation, and as it was lighthearted, even gay in character, +melodious and tripping, Ringfield thought it must be of operatic +origin, but found later on to his intense surprise that it was a +transcription of Mozart's Twelfth Mass, interpreted by Alexis Gagnon, +the undertaker, as first violin, his eldest son, second violin, +Francois Xavier Tremblay, one of the beneficiaries, on the cornet, and +Adolphe Trudel, a little hunchback, on the flute. + +This selection, performed with more gusto and enthusiasm than +customary, gave so much satisfaction that it had to be repeated after +noisy and prolonged applause, and then Miss Cordova appeared at the +side of the platform, dressed in Spanish costume and carrying +castanets. The opera of "Carmen," at that time quite new, had been +performed in some small towns of the United States by a "scratch" +company, including Pauline's acquaintance and--to show that Art is a +reality, and some people born into it, at their best in it and unfit +for anything else--the lady was greatly changed, not only in +Ringfield's eyes, but in her own. The greenish-yellow hair looked dull +gold by lamplight; her eyes gleamed blackly from their blue +crystallized lids (the bath of indigo being a stage device known to all +devotees of the art), and her dancing, which immediately commenced to +her own castanets and a subdued "pizzicato" from the two violins, was +original and graceful, and free from any taint of vulgarity. Her +draperies of handsome black and yellow stuffs were high to the throat +and reached to her ankles; her expression was dreamy, almost sad; one +would have said she was figuring in some serious rite, so dignified her +mien, so chaste and refined her gestures. If Bizet has idealized the +heroine of Prosper-Merimee's crude but strong little story, Sadie +Cordova idealized in her turn the orthodox tempestuous, unhappy Carmen +of the modern stage. The beauty of the music with its rhythmic +measured beat, and the grace of her swaying changeful poses, riveted +all eyes and ears, and Ringfield, to whom such an exhibition was +altogether new, was absorbed in watching this woman he had endeavoured +not to despise, and whom he certainly would have exhorted in his most +earnest fashion to flee St. Ignace directly, had he known that she was +a person who had experimented more than once in matrimony, not having +waited for the death of her first husband before she married the +second, and that she had two children living. + +The next on the programme was a baritone solo from a young habitant, +another of the Tremblay family, a portion of a Mass in which he was ill +at ease, and over-weighted; this apparently not mattering to the +populace, he was encored, and returned to sing, in his own simple +fashion and without accompaniment, one of the many beautiful melodies +known to him from his childhood--A Chanson Populaire. + + Quand un Chretien se determine + A voyager, + Faut bien penser qu'il se destine + A des dangers; + Mille fois a ses yeux la mort + Prend son image, + Mille fois il maudit son sort + Dans le cours du voyage. + + + Quand tu seras dans les portages, + Pauvre engage, + Les sueurs te couleront dea visages + Pauvre afflige, + Loin de jurer, si tu me crois, + Dans ta colere, + Pense a Jesus portant sa croix-- + Il a monte au Calvaire! + + +What words were these--to be sung at a mixed concert in a summer hotel +in the primitive village of St. Ignace? Ringfield knew enough French +to follow them, and as the minor plainsong of the melody floated +through the hall, he saw Miss Clairville's eyes filling with tears +where she sat in the front at one side awaiting her turn. She had +often spoken to him of the beautiful national music of her +province--this was the first time he had heard it. But quickly now +followed Poussette with a solo on the concertina, in which his fat body +laboured to and fro, and his fat hands plunged the instrument to one +side, then to the other, while his broad smile and twinkling eyes first +pleased, then convulsed the audience. After him came Miss Clairville, +and Ringfield, nervously reading out the title of the song, did not +observe how she was dressed until she had reached the platform and had +greeted her audience. The black and scarlet garb so familiar to him +was now accompanied by a smart little jacket of red worn rather +queerly, since one arm only was thrust in and the empty sleeve caught +up in some way he did not understand, while on her head she wore a kind +of arch hussar's cap. It was evident that her selection was familiar +to some in the audience, those who had seen her as "La Grande Duchesse +de Gerolstein" in Montreal, and a few who had attended similar +functions to the present. + +"It's only an old turn of mine," she managed to whisper to Ringfield, +"but they all like it. Le Sabre de Mon Pere--I never tire singing it +myself. You look stupid enough this minute to be my Fritz--but +there--you do not understand!" + +The accompaniment was played on the American organ, moved for that +occasion up to the platform, but even that could not detract from the +passionate pride and fire with which Miss Clairville rendered that +spirited song, so far removed from opera "bouffe" or "comic" opera; +indeed the noble character of the first strain was considerably +enhanced by the church-like quality of the accompaniment. So far +Ringfield was greatly surprised, for he had seen and heard nothing that +failed to appeal to the artistic and elevated side of life, and Pauline +threw additional vigour and life into her representation of the +autocratic Duchess, half-acted, half-sung, as she observed her latest +captive; new chains were being forged by the unexpected grandeur and +beauty of her thrilling voice and all went breathlessly and well until +the door at the end of the room opened and a startling figure appeared. +This was Edmund Crabbe--but no longer Crabbe the guide, the dilatory +postmaster, the drunken loafer; in his stead appeared Crabbe Hawtree, +Esquire, the gentleman and "Oxford man," in his right mind and +clothed--_mirabile dictu_--in full and correct evening dress. +Piccadilly and Pall Mall need not have been ashamed of him; the +regulation coat, waistcoat and trousers were there, a little worn, but +still in fashion; the white tie was there, the stiff collar and cuffs, +the patent leather pumps, even a white silk handkerchief tucked inside +the waistcoat, and some kind of sprig in the buttonhole. He paused, +carefully shutting the door behind him, and stood while Pauline +finished her song; at its conclusion he walked up through the rows of +village people--shanty and mill hands, habitants and farmers--and +presented the artist with a handsome bunch of florist's roses, quite in +the accepted style of large cities, and her surprise was evident. She +started, stared at him, faltered, and might have spoken but for the +impassive and nonchalant air with which he faced her. As for +Ringfield, a great anger and distress filled his mind. What spasm of +reform had animated this fallen, worthless creature to create an +impression which could not, in the nature of things, lead to systematic +rehabilitation? To ape the garb of worthy men, to stand thus, tricked +out in the dress of a remote civilization from which he had thrust +himself forever, before the woman he perhaps had wronged, and with so +easy and disdainful a bearing, seemed to Ringfield the summit of +senseless folly and contemptible weakness. Subjected during the rest +of the evening to the cynical, amused and imperturbable gaze of this +man, whom, in spite of his Christianity, he hated, Ringfield made but a +sorry chairman. His French stuck in his throat; he cast dark and angry +looks at the noisy flirtation going on between Poussette and Miss +Cordova, and it was with relief that he heard the patriotic strains of +"God Save the Queen" from the strength of the company, in which the +hoarse bass of the transplanted cockney, Enderby, the Hawthorne +butcher, was paramount. + +Crabbe was waiting for Pauline and gave her his arm down from the +platform. + +"Well," said he, openly displaying his admiration, "you gave us a +Gregorian Grand Duchess to-night, but I, for one, will not quarrel with +you for that. All the old time vivacity and charm were there, I assure +you, and I do not find as much alteration in your style and appearance +as I expected from hearing that you had joined the Methodists!" + +Pauline glanced quickly from Crabbe to Ringfield; she foresaw an open +and unseemly quarrel, and as one could never tell when Crabbe was +sober, she rather feared than welcomed the bright audacity of his +manner, the amiable ease with which he held the situation. In the +presence of the guide Ringfield always lost his austere calm; his +manners underwent deterioration and he stood now with a rigid +_gaucherie_ spoiling his fine presence, and a pitiful nervousness +prompting him to utter and do the wrong thing. + +"I'm not saying there's anything wrong with Methodists all the same, +you know," continued Crabbe, giving her arm a final and caressing pat +as he released her, "but still I've seen better chairmen." Crabbe was +now leaning lazily against the wall and occasionally moved his arm +across Miss Clairville's back, as if he might at any moment fold it +around her waist as he had done outside the barn. + +"Your French needs polishing up a bit. How would a course at one of +our theological colleges down here do for you? It's a pity you +couldn't have six months even at Laval--but, of course, Sabrevois and +the long procession of colporteurs is more in your line. But in spite +of such small defects you remain a man of cheerful yesterdays, and we +may presume--equally confident tomorrows, and therefore, to be envied." + +The three stood comparatively alone, the people having passed out and +Poussette and Enderby talking apart in a corner. Every vestige of +healthy colour fled from the minister's face, and his hands clasped and +unclasped with peculiar and unnatural tension. In his brain a prayer +had formed. "My Dear God--" he kept saying to himself--"my Dear +God--help me from myself! Protect me now lest I offend Thee, and be +forever cast from Thy Holy Presence. Remove this temptation from me, +or give me strength to meet it and endure, and so rise triumphant." + +His lips moved and the word "God" made itself faintly heard. Pauline +went closer to him and saw the set strain of his face and watched the +tightening fingers. + +"Oh, you are right--we torture you, he and I, with our foolish ways +that you do not understand!" + +"I understand well enough," he returned below his breath; "I understand +better than you think. But come now, come away with me!" + +"Come--where? I am living here, remember!" + +"Come away--away!" + +A new recklessness animated Ringfield; he was now the one to dash aside +convention and make a bold attempt for mastery. "It is not yet very +late. The snow is dry and hard--we can walk for half an hour." + +Crabbe smiled in a slow infuriating way. + +"I claim, I demand the lady for something better than a walk, under +dreary midnight skies, over cold and inhospitable winter snows! Like a +man in a certain chronicle I have made a supper and would bid you both +attend--one at least." + +"A supper? But whom----" Pauline stopped, although glad of the +diversion Crabbe's words offered. She had seen him hand a couple of +bills towards the Tremblay fund; she now recollected preparations +towards extra cooking during that day, which she had set down to +Poussette's mania for treating and feeding people, but which now must +be attributed to the guide, and in her hand were the forced roses sent +from Montreal--there was no nearer place. Crabbe must be out of his +senses, for never before even in the old days when his remittance came +to hand had she seen him so lavish. He read her meaning. + +"Who pays, eh! Is that it, my lady? Well, I do on this occasion, and +the fact is--well, I'll tell you all about it at supper." + +Pauline, still incredulous but extremely curious, took small notice of +Ringfield after this, and as Enderby was approaching, and she +particularly avoided meeting anyone from Hawthorne on all occasions, +she departed with the guide. There was a very attractive supper ready +for her in a private room, where Miss Cordova was also present in her +Spanish costume, a giddy chaperone who soon retired and left the two +together, and Pauline could hardly credit the fact that Crabbe was +genuinely sober, clad in his irreproachable evening suit, his hair +neatly brushed with a kind of military cut, and his features composed +and pleased, recalling much of what he had been when first they met; +and she also observed with much surprise that Poussette was present at +the feast altogether in the character of menial and inferior, with his +coat off, bustling about with the glasses, corkscrews and towels. +Instead of hobnobbing with the guide, he waited upon him with +discretion and assiduity, and Pauline even fancied that towards herself +there was a grain more of respect than of admiration in the hotel +keeper's bearing. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +REHABILITATION + + "Cast from the pedestal of pride with shocks." + + +All through the little supper, made gay by the brilliant dresses of the +ladies and the bunches of roses in the middle of the table, a +restlessness marked the guide's manner; he was clearly anxious to have +it over, get rid of Poussette and Miss Cordova, and be alone with +Pauline. + +It was a quarter to twelve when this was arrived at, and Crabbe took +the precaution of closing the door securely after the Frenchman, and of +seeing that the blind was sufficiently lowered over the one window +which looked on the side of the cleared yard nearer the river, but he +did not think of looking out of the window. Perhaps if he had he would +not have recognized Ringfield in the straight dark shadow that kept +walking up and down, up and down, as long as the light shone from that +room. When he at last found himself secure and alone, the Englishman's +stoicism, pride, and remorse, all came forth at one bound. He sat down +and swept the dishes away from him, reached for Pauline's hand, and +bent his head down over it upon the table, smothering different +ejaculations, which, warm and earnest enough, were totally removed from +his usual style of impassioned speech--he uttered nothing profane. But +he sobbed--sobbed. + +"Oh, what is it?" cried Miss Clairville in alarm. "What has happened? +I never saw you like this before. It frightens me--why you sound as if +you were crying, but that would be impossible. Oh, tell me, tell me!" + +He grew calmer, lifted his head and felt for his handkerchief. "Yes, +it's quite possible! I believe I have shed a tear or two. The first +in how many years, Pauline? Ah--that I could not, would not wish to +compute, but it's over now, I----" + +He stopped, released her hand and began settling his clothes with the +familiar touches she remembered so well. "I--well; Pauline, it's this; +I've come into money. Now you know. Now you understand. And another +thing--I know how to make money--what's more. Nothing succeeds like +success, you see, and by Heaven--one thing followed on another till I +could have gambled for luck, lost all, and won all back! Oh--I don't +know what I'm saying, but I mean that one thing would have been enough, +and there came two, two at once, here in the middle of this gloomy +wood, this Inferno of a place I have hated so well and so long. +Gad--it isn't half bad to-night though! I feel like a gentleman, I +hope I look like one; I can act like one at least: pay my way, pay for +this little spread, pay for your roses--what did you think when you saw +them?" + +Pauline did not take her eyes off him. She was alarmed, not believing +a word he said, and she did not answer with her usual spirit. + +"I thought them very wonderful of course in this out-of-the-way place. +Did you send for them?" + +"My lady is cautious. New for her. Where is our Gallic zeal and +impetuosity gone? You're afraid of me! I see it. You think I'm +drunk?" + +She shook her head, but her smile was somewhat wan. + +"Here, I'll convince you. Take my hands, both of them. Both of them, +I say. At once, madam." + +She did so and he drew her near, nearer, till their knees were touching. + +"Now you answer me. Are they steady?" + +"Yes." + +"Very reluctantly given. Are they quite steady and firm like your own +or like those of your parson friend?" + +"Oh, don't, don't! Yes--quite firm, quite steady." + +"You see! Now look at my eyes, look into them, lady dear. At once, +madam. You find that trying, do you, but persevere. Well--what do you +find? Are they wild, bloodshot, glazed, glaring? No? Only your image +therein. And by God, Pauline, there never was and never will be any +image half so beautiful, half so dear. That you must and will believe. +Well, then--no, don't draw your hands away--about this money, for I'm +perfectly sober and desirous of telling you the truth. You have the +right to know. One thing led to another, but the first of it was like +this. I've always been a scribbler in my lazy moments, as you know, +but perhaps you can't be expected to know that I have put care and +strong thought, art and heart both, into some verse that I occasionally +would take out and look over, and then lock away again. How could I, +forlorn and degraded, an outcast from society, hope to effect anything +in literature! Yet I never destroyed any of these pet lucrubations of +mine, and one day, a few months ago, I picked out a poem, copied it +fair when my hand wasn't shaking, and sent it to a magazine in England. +They took it--and I was so surprised that I went on a good long drunk. +But when I got straight again I found a handsome cheque awaiting me and +the hope, very warmly expressed by the way, that I would let him, the +editor, have many more in the same vein. Many more, mind you, with +cheques to match, so long as my industry holds out and I can find +enough to say. Now consider for a moment what that signifies to a man +like me, fallen so low, I confess it, ostracized and exiled, cut off +from all old associations and without hope of overcoming my fault +sufficiently to enable me to make a fresh start. It meant not only +money, but employment, and congenial employment. It meant that after +all, these years of leanness have not been wasted, that I have +something to say if I can only retain the knack, the trick, of saying +it in the way people will like, the public like. This alone would be +much, but with it goes, you see, some money, so, as I said, one thing +brings another; and money after all, Pauline, is what many a man as +lost as I am mostly requires. It isn't as if I'd _had_ money, +squandered it and lost it; I never had it--I never had it." + +He paused, and for a moment there had sounded that high dangerous ring +in his voice she knew so well, and Miss Clairville drew her hands away. + +"But that was not all," she said coldly. "You spoke of something else, +of two things that had happened. What was the other?" + +"The second grew out of the first, out of what I have told you. The +poems--they were a couple of ranch episodes,--I'll let you see them +presently--were signed by my full name, Edmund Crabbe Hawtree. I never +supposed any one I knew would see them, or seeing them trouble their +heads about the writer; in fact, I never thought about the matter. But +somebody did see them and did remember me, and did take the trouble to +find out who I was, and where I was, and I've had within the last +fortnight two letters from a well known firm of lawyers in London +informing me that I am without doubt the man they have been searching +for during the past year, and that quite a respectable little fortune +awaits me. There have been a few deaths in the family; I am next of +kin and so that's all there is about it. Simple as you like, but true +beyond a doubt, and so I thought I'd celebrate the event to-night with +you, Pauline, and perhaps confer with you--you woman of the world, with +your knowledge of life and of me--of me, alas! Me at my worst, +Pauline, but let us hope really my worst." + +He rose and walked around the room, unconscious of the dark shadow that +also walked austerely outside the window. "This money--it is a great +thing that has happened to me. It is difficult to realize. Don't mind +my walking up and down; it soothes me and I'm excited too, I think." + +Pauline seemed dazed. + +"Is there a title? Is it much--the money that has been left you, I +mean? Very much?" + +"A good deal, but no title." And Crabbe could not and did not try to +suppress the satisfied smile which told how he had gained in +self-respect during the last few days. + +"I expect you'll think it a good deal. Of course in England it will be +different. There must be two houses with it; a town house--no, that +was sold a long while ago, I believe; anyway, there would be more to do +with it over there than on this side. I wonder how soon I ought to go." + +"Go! You are going! But how much is it?" + +"Oh! Didn't I say? About ten thousand; pounds you know, Pauline, +pounds, not dollars." + +"Ten thousand pounds!" + +"A nice little sum, lady dear?" + +"All that money yours?" + +"Yes, and not a penny too much, not a penny too much. I have to +revenge myself on fate, or Providence, or whatever you call it, for +these years of misery. I have to think of what I might have done and +lose no time in doing it. Pauline, I must think of you." + +A softer mood held him now and he dropped upon his knee and laid his +head upon her lap, but she could not follow his swift changes of +emotion; the mention of the money had obliterated every other thought, +and whether it was the woman in her or the potential miserliness of her +race--the Clairvilles were traditionally stingy--she seemed unable to +get away from the mere image of the ten thousand pounds. + +"But, _Mon Dieu_, what a great change there will be! You will be +everything and I shall be nothing! A poor actress, a doubtful lady! +Oh! I shall be nothing to you, I can see, I can see! _Mon Dieu_, but +this is only to bring more trouble upon me!" + +Crabbe, as he will still be called, was at this much astonished. To do +him justice he had for some time, ever since Ringfield's advent in the +village in fact, found himself wishing that he might sincerely reform +and offer Pauline the honour of marriage, and with it some hopes of a +respectable competence. + +"What nonsense are you saying?" he returned angrily. "Isn't money what +we both require, what we have always required? And here it is now, as +much as we want, and more, a great deal more, than we deserve or we +expected! Why, I'll marry you now, Pauline, and you'll keep me steady; +you and the travel and all the strangeness and the glory of it. You +don't need any educating, any furbishing up--thank Heaven you were +always a lady!--but we'll go abroad, of course, for a while and I'll +show you Paris, Pauline, Paris, where you told Father Rielle you wanted +to go and act; and you shall buy all you want at the shops, and I'll +take you to the Louvre. Oh, yes, and you must go and see Mme. +Bernhardt if she is acting; you might have been her rival if you'd +begun earlier, with your moods and fancies and tempers. Then we'll +come back to London, and I'll take you for a day to my old lodgings in +Jermyn St., just to square up things. Then we'll progress quietly to +the Towers, Langmere, Suffolk; that's the estate; not the most +interesting of counties, but everything will be new and equally +interesting to you, and thus we'll sober down to the regulation old +English married couple. Dost like the picture, my lady of St. Ignace, +my _chatelaine_ of Clairville?" + +"Always Clairville, always St. Ignace." She clasped her hands above +her head in weariness. "If something could happen like what you +describe, but no--it is impossible. They say that Henry's sight is +going now, that very soon he will not be able to walk about by himself +at all, that he is better in body but worse in mind, that he is +forgetting all caution and speaking openly of the child--what is to be +the end of it?" + +"If anything could happen! Something _has_ happened. What I am +telling you is true. I am rich, able to take care of you, to put an +end to this sordid existence; you shall be taken away from Henry and +the child, and the old associations. Don't you believe me?" + +"I should like to; but it's too much, too sudden, too good to be true." + +"But it _is_ true; here are the letters; here is money, a little of +what is due, and here are the poems. You see, even if there were any +mistake, any hitch about the estate, I still have a career open to me. +There's an old manuscript novel of mine lying about somewhere; I +believe I can get that taken; and I feel, I know there's something in +it,--life, truth, suffering! But there's no hitch, no mistake, I swear +it to you, Pauline; and whenever you're ready, I am; and we will, in +melodramatic language, fly together from these dreary wilds. +Fortunately residence at St. Ignace doesn't imply creditors. I've +taken a room here at Poussette's, and I shall live in comfort for the +short time that may elapse before we start. One thing, I hope, I hope, +I shall keep sober. Would you take me if you thought I wouldn't, lady +dear?" + +He sat, stooping forward, his hair slightly disarranged, his blue eyes +no longer choleric but gently smiling. She realized that he was still +goodlooking, still a gentleman, a man of culture and even talent, young +enough to move the world, and almost as young in appearance as herself; +for mental anxiety and care of any kind always showed directly in her +mobile features, and she was already beginning to track a few grey +hairs and a few unbecoming wrinkles. + +"There's another reason," she said evasively. "You have no idea how +persistent this young man, the minister, has become. I have warned +him, I have told him--not everything, of course, but a great deal--yet +still he follows me, and to-day, I cannot remember what I said; but I +have certainly led him to expect that I shall marry him." + +"What! The parson! I thought you had more sense. Never do, never in +the world. And now in the light of my proposals, see what you would be +throwing away." + +"But he is very earnest, very determined. He may keep me to my word. +He may not get over it if I refuse, if I manage to leave St. Ignace +with you." + +Crabbe laughed and kissed her lightly on the ear. He said nothing, but +produced first letters and papers from his pocket and then a small +case. Pauline opened it; a pair of beautiful ear-rings flashed in the +lamp light. In her ears were the imitation ones; she thought no longer +of anything but whisking these out and putting on the others. Together +they studied the papers and read the letters; and before they parted +for the rest of the night she had promised to be ready in a month to +marry him wherever he would prefer to have the ceremony performed, and +to go abroad with him. She was to say that he had certainly come into +some money but not to say how much; she was to busy herself with making +arrangements for her brother's future comfort, as in all probability +the pair would never revisit St. Ignace; and she was to make in +particular a visit of a few days to Hawthorne on special and private +business connected with the child Angeel. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +A RURAL AUTOCRAT + + "The discipline of slavery is unknown + Amongst us--hence the more do we require + The discipline of virtue." + + +The presence of Enderby at the Tremblay concert had not been altogether +due to the excellence of the programme or the merit of the +beneficiaries; he had in fact driven over with the intention of +speaking to Ringfield on a subject of some importance--the future of +the child in the basket chair. This excellent but domineering +storekeeper was the leader of society at Hawthorne; the settlement was +not rich in old families, either English or French, and very early in +his career he and his wife had taken the helm and continued to hold it, +preserving strict notions of etiquette and maintaining a decorous state +which would have become the Lieut.-Governor of a Province. Large, +stern and florid, he was always the same in manner whether serving +behind his counter or taking up the money on Sundays: shining example +of intelligence, thrift, and British insularity, such a man as Clarence +Enderby carries the love of British institutions all over the globe, +and one forgives his syntax for the sake of his sincerity. He had +always been a fiery conservative and a staunch member of the Church of +England; and two or three months before Ringfield's arrival he had +organized what was known to all beholders passing his shop by a +japanned sign hanging outside as the "Public Library," a collection of +forty-seven volumes of mixed fiction in which the charming and highly +illuminative works of E. P. Roe were chiefly conspicuous, reposing in a +select corner of the establishment, somewhat towards the centre, and +equidistant from the dry goods, rubbers, hardware and hammocks, and +from the candies, groceries, fancy jewellery and sheet music. The +proprietors of these country "general stores" are great men in their +way: years ago they rolled up fortunes for themselves in their +district; potential Whiteleys and Wanamakers, they were the true +pioneers in the departmental store business, and on a lilliputian scale +"Enderby's" would have compared very well with the Army and Navy Stores +of London. Absence of competition creates a monopoly, and Enderby's +was the best store in a large district including Hawthorne, St. Ignace, +Beauscley, his only rival being the Yankee referred to by Crabbe, who +did not, however, bear a very good character, having been detected in +smuggling some of those old French brandies and liqueurs, although he +was outwardly a teetotaller and his place had no licence. Enderby, on +the other hand, always drank a glass of beer with his Sunday dinner; +indeed, the arrival of the malt of which his wife and daughter also +partook, was a part of Sunday observance, while on birthdays and other +anniversaries wine or toddy made their appearance. But extreme +regularity and temperance in all things was a strong feature of his +character, and he was therefore exceedingly jealous of the honour and +good moral standing of the village, and the harbouring of Angeel had +been for a long time a matter involving much worry. At the picnic +Ringfield's ill-timed allusion to "sinners" had hurt him most +particularly, and the more he thought of it the more he grew convinced +that the minister could throw some light on the origin of the child and +the manner in which it had come to be living at Hawthorne; for up to +the present time almost complete ignorance prevailed. This was in +itself extraordinary since the area was so small and the population so +settled, but shrewd guessers were nearly hitting the mark when they +supposed, from certain memories, inferences, and coincidences, that the +child belonged to Miss Clairville, and this was precisely the point +which offended the store-keeper; had the affair originated in his own +parish, no matter how disreputably, he would have guarded the secret, +striven to make the best of it, or, if the case abounded in direct +violations of morality by those above him in station, all the more he +would have preserved an absolutely rigid silence. His contention +was--that the business belonged to some other parish, probably that of +St. Ignace, and that when strangers, ignorant of this, visited +Hawthorne, they took it for granted that Angeel was part of the +village, thus bringing undeserved slur and unmerited obloquy upon an +innocent community, and he took advantage of the concert to ask for a +few words with Ringfield. The latter had just been compelled to +witness the desertion of Pauline as she went off with Crabbe and Miss +Cordova when he turned to find Enderby waiting to speak to him. +Poussette had withdrawn. + +"I hardly know, sir, just how I ought to introduce the subject," said +the butcher, in his loftiest manner, eyeing the minister up and down. +"For I have hardly ever spoke to a clergyman of your denomination +before." + +Ringfield with a somewhat constrained smile assured the speaker that he +was mortal and fairly rational, although he was a Methodist. + +"Yes, of course, I know that, and there is those who might have found +great enjoyment in that there prayer you gave us, sir, some time back, +great profit I may say, without fear of exaggeration." + +"Prayer?" repeated the other, for a moment forgetting the incident +alluded to. "Oh, yes, I know what you mean; it was, I understand, a +trifle long for the occasion, a trifle long perhaps, but I spoke from +my heart and with my heart, and I forgot probably that you were all +waiting, and the viands were kept waiting too and so forth. I shan't +offend again, I hope." + +"I 'ope not, sir, I 'ope not. Now this evening you did it all to +perfection, and all were very much obliged to you." + +"Thank you, thank you very much," said Ringfield, his gaze wandering +off to the hall where glimpses of drapery and musical clinking of +bangles and bracelets assailed his senses. Miss Clairville was never +without earrings and other jewelry, and if the proper idea of ornament +is to attract attention to the parts thus graced, in her case there was +reason for her wearing such, since she possessed both beautifully +shaped ears and fine hands and arms. + +"But, sir, the length of prayers is not all! Some of us could--I say +this without fear of exaggeration--could go through the entire Litany +and the Apostles' Creed backwards, which would take a man some time, +and yet what would be the good of it? Stands to reason, sir, there +must be something more than length, mere length of time in prayers." + +"Of course, of course. You are quite right, Enderby." + +"There must be appropriateness and truth and feeling, but none of it +must bear too direct, says you--on the parties present or the occasion, +be it wedding or funeral, or christening, or a mere social affair like +the Harvest Home yonder. I see how it is with you; you can't always +help it, for you can't always control your thoughts and likewise your +words, not having no notes." + +"But what did I say amiss on that occasion?" began Ringfield, nervously +divining that this lecture was but the prelude to the statement that in +some way he had offended. "I am quite sure, I am positively certain, +that I had no intention of using words or phrases which were the +reverse of appropriate or true, yet you seem to think that I was thus +unfortunate." + +Enderby gave a great sigh. "If you don't remember you mustn't find +fault with my remembering, for it made quite a stir at the time. It +quite took my wife's appetite away, sir." + +"What did?" said Ringfield shortly. + +"Your saying in that grieved, yet bold way, that we were all sinners, +and that sinners were sitting even then at that very board." + +"Was that all?" exclaimed the minister with sudden relief, and an +uncontrollable smile. "Surely you are accustomed to that. Surely you +do not consider yourselves in Hawthorne to be so perfect, so +infallible, as to be beyond criticism and impatient of censure! If so, +all I can say is I am very glad I used those terms, and I should say, I +should think, that no matter what Church you belong to, you, Enderby, +would see the absurdity of rating me for offering a prayer couched in +the language most natural to me, and of which I am not ashamed. Do you +deny that we are all sinners?" + +"I do not, sir, and that is just what my wife and others complains of. +You did not content yourself with saying we were _all_ sinners; you +said 'if any sinners lurked at the board,' as if pointing the finger, +and it is for an explanation of that I have come to you to-night, sir. +We all felt that the presence at the feast of the unfortunate little +girl you of course observed, must 'ave 'ad something to do with it, and +I think you ought to know, coming among us as you did, and may do +again, just how we felt about it. I'll tell you all I know, and then +I'd be obliged if you, sir, would tell me what you know." + +Ringfield looked helplessly around but there was no hope of diverting +Enderby's attention; he must go through with it and only trust that he +might be believed, and once again that slight sense of the ludicrous +came upon him. Tragedy was in the air; yet, as often happens in real +life, it was being pushed to comedy point, and he grudged even the +shadow of a jest at this important crisis in his dealings with Miss +Clairville, who was now sitting at supper with the new edition of +Crabbe. + +"You had better take a chair, Enderby," he said, setting the example. + +"Thank you, sir, and I 'ope I am not detaining you. I wish to say, +sir, that now for eight years the constant presence of the child and +its nurse in our little village has been a source of much trouble and +talk. We are a united and respectable, most respectable community, +sir." + +The sternness with which this remark was given led Ringfield to say +soothingly, "I am sure you are--it is, I mean. I am quite sure you +are." + +"Not only respectable, and has always been so, but superior." + +"Yes, yes, I understand." + +"And therefore it goes against our grain to 'ave 'arboured the +maid--that's what we used to call them in England--and the time has +come, I think, to do something about it." + +"I see. Yes, the position is a difficult one. How did she come to the +village in the first place? She was not born there, then?" + +"No, sir, I am thankful to say, unless greatly and cruelly deceived. +The manner of her coming, or rather of her being found, was this; the +young person who has charge of her, who is now about twenty-three by +all counts, has always been light headed, and cannot or will not, +explain clearly who she is or where she comes from. All we know of her +is that she came here with the child one stormy night in the middle of +winter, just like the stage or a story book, appearing at the Rectory +and carrying an anonymous letter begging for shelter and charity. Mr. +Abercorn found them--it was on Christmas Eve--and he took them in to +his wife and she to the kitchen. The girl was a pretty dark-haired +slip of fifteen or so, with the light manner and the gay laugh you may +have noticed, gay but empty, and could give no account of herself; the +child not as bad as she has since grown to be, but already strange +looking, and some thought as stupid as the girl." + +An exclamation of dismay escaped from Ringfield. + +"Better if it had been!" he cried. + +"Well, I may say that I agree with you, sir. The rector and his wife +got a home for them in the village, and although we have learned +something about them it is very little, and as the money for their +support comes from here, I thought it time, sir, to look more +thoroughly into the affair." + +"From here? You are sure?" + +Ringfield was ready to defend, even shield, Miss Clairville if +necessary. + +"It was brought or sent by one of the servants at the Manor House out +by the lake. Without fear of exaggeration, sir, I may state that we +'ave long known this to be the case; Antoine Archambault, the young man +around this room not ten minutes ago, is the bearer, and he, I suppose, +knows all about it--the girl is apparently his sister, or in some way +related to him--but I wouldn't care to talk to him about it and so, +sir, I come to you." + +"But I know nothing!" exclaimed Ringfield, rising. "Nothing whatever, +not nearly as much as you do. It is no use speaking to me upon the +matter. I cannot assist you in the least. What do you propose to do?" + +"Why," said Enderby, flushing a darker red and rising ponderously, +"this is what we propose to do, for we're tired of the affair, as isn't +ours, and never was by right. The child will soon be grown up, if it +lives, and it's getting stronger on its legs every day and will soon be +playing with the other children. We don't want it--we don't want it +any longer at Hawthorne, and we propose to find the parents and bestow +it again upon those to whom it originally belonged. That's what we +propose, and we look to you, sir, to help us." + +"Whom do you suspect, or have you direct proof and knowledge?" +Ringfield, to whom the situation was full of anguish, could hardly +frame his sentences. "Pray recollect," he continued, "that in these +unhappy cases it is not always wise, not always necessary, to press the +matter home. I am a strong believer in the natural expiation that +people undergo who allow themselves to err in these directions; the +mere fact that the person or persons responsible for Angeel have had +her removed to a distant parish while still caring for her shows how +deeply the affair has been felt. I would not advise you to be hasty." + +"'Asty--says you--'asty? After a matter of eight years? I'm sorry I +didn't begin before this," cried the exasperated storekeeper, holding +the virtues and morals of all Hawthorne as it were in his hand. "You +ask me if I suspect any one and I answer--that I do," and he huskily +whispered Miss Clairville's name. + +Knowing what would be expected of him, Ringfield strove to appear even +more greatly shocked than he was, and retreated a step or two in +consternation. + +"Be very careful," he managed to say sternly, "be extremely careful how +you thus refer to a lady who bears, I am told, a very high character in +her native place, even if she has been obliged to seek the town and the +theatre for her living." + +"You 'ave not heard this mentioned before?" + +"Never." + +"But Miss Clairville attends your church?" + +"She certainly has attended a few of the services, but I do not think +she has ever openly made a profession of the faith; she remains at +heart, I think, a Catholic. Perhaps," said Ringfield, lamely, "you +might see Father Rielle about this. As parish priest and as a friend +of her brother's he would be the proper person to advise you. And now, +having assured you that I know nothing more than I have learnt in the +last few moments from yourself, you must excuse me if I leave you. It +is late, and I perceive your wife and daughter are growing restless in +the hall. Are you driving back to Hawthorne to-night?" + +"I am," returned Enderby, hastily looking at his watch; "but I shall +come over again, sir, and see what can be done. In the meantime, will +you not assist me in some way--by speaking to Antoine, who has picked +up a little English, or by conferring with the priest?" + +Ringfield hesitated. + +"The question is," he replied, "whether as this affair is now +practically inside another parish and another village, I have any +business to interest myself in it at all. Well,--I will think about +it, Enderby, I will think about it, and possibly I may be able to help +you. You would like to get the child away? I see the propriety, even +the need of that." + +He suddenly thought of something which had not occurred to him before. +"How would it be if I were to assume control of the affair for you? +Supposing that without much trouble, I and Father Rielle look into the +matter and endeavour to remove the child from her present home and have +her admitted to some institution? Would you still insist on its being +done in such a way that parentage and--and so on, must all be made +clear?" + +Enderby was silent, but the angry flushing of his face had subsided a +little. Ringfield saw his chance and pressed it home. + +"Try and see if that would not be the better way--to let me control the +matter and quietly take the child away without any fuss and scandal and +naming of names. In the meantime I can make my inquiries and +communicate with you. Dr. Renaud now--he will be able to advise us, +and I should think your own rector and his wife, Mr. and Mrs. Abercorn, +for I hear the lady has done a great deal of the parish work; but if +you think it better to leave it entirely to me, I will see what can be +done." + +"The rector, sir, is easy, terrible easy in his ways; he would let +anything go on for any length of time to save trouble. +Well--good-night to you, sir, and you may expect to see me again soon." + +"Good-night, Enderby, good-night. We have had a very successful +entertainment, I think.--Here is Poussette going to turn us out; it's +after eleven!" + +An unusual hauteur in the Frenchman's demeanour did not escape the +minister, who was not, however, disposed to ask any questions. The +truth was--the unexpected turn in Crabbe's fortunes had been partially +explained to the host, but to no one else, and secrecy had been +impressed upon him. The ex-guide had displayed a wealth of money, had +received and dispatched letters and telegrams full of suggestive +mysteries, and--most wonderful of all--had not called for drinks. +Poussette was so far keeping his own vow made to Ringfield and Miss +Cordova, but at any moment an outbreak might occur, for excitement +breeds thirst even in sober individuals. + +Outside the lighted window walked Ringfield to and fro, waiting till +the Englishman should emerge and go to his shack, but as the reader +knows this did not happen. He saw the light carried about, then it +entirely disappeared, and afterwards two lights appeared upstairs, but +in opposite ends of the house; Crabbe had escorted Pauline to her door +and then betaken himself to the small room at one side which coincided +with that occupied by Miss Cordova at the other. It was not long +before everything was dark and quiet, and Ringfield, extremely baffled +and uneasy, turned to go home. But Alexis Gagnon, supposing the +minister upstairs and asleep, had locked the door, and now the only +mode of entrance possible was the undignified one of climbing the rude +fence and scaling the well-remembered balcony which led to his room. +This brought him very close to Pauline's chamber, looking on the +familiar balcony, but he could detect nothing wrong or unusual; +Poussette was wrapped in sleep and even Martin, the Indian guide and +choreman, had evidently long gone his rounds and entered the house. + +Ringfield could not be expected to understand the sudden change in +Crabbe's fortunes, and he spent the rest of that night in dreary and +bitter speculations as to the probable causes which had led Pauline to +desert him openly for the Englishman. Why had he not the power, the +audacity, the social courage which the guide undoubtedly possessed, to +seize her and bear her off bodily on these occasions? This--a relic of +savagery--would alone overcome the ease with which Crabbe confronted +him, and despite vices and faults usually carried off the palm. As one +progressed the other retrograded; the Englishman, dreaming of a good +name and character restored, lay peacefully beneath Poussette's roof, +not worrying about Pauline, for he knew that, short of the marriage +ceremony, he had the strongest right and authority any man could have +over her; while Ringfield, distrusting and suspecting every one around +him, tossed and sighed all night, wondering what stability there was in +her mind and what worth he might set upon her promises. Some +deterioration, some loss of fine simplicity, some decrease in his +healthy optimism, was already visible in his look and bearing; he in +his turn was discovering the impotence of Nature to heal, sooth, or +direct, and it might have been said of him that he began to go in and +out without noting the objects so suggestive and inspiring--the sky, +the thundering flood, the noble wood, the lonely river. As Crabbe had +cried to him in utter desolation of soul--what had Nature to do with a +man's heart and self and life? Nature mocked him, passed him by, +viewed him coldly. Poetry--did not Crabbe quote poetry? The +bitterness of Job, the pessimism of Solomon, began to colour his +attitude of mind, and thus by slow degrees his physical powers declined +from their original high level. He did not get enough sleep, he did +not eat enough food, he took long walks with his eyes on the ground, he +found visiting a bore and preaching a stumblingblock. Nothing saps the +strength like the rotting virus of jealousy; nothing so alters the face +and vilifies the expression as living in a state of perpetual dislike +and suspicion of any person or persons; as Crabbe's countenance +cleared, as his eye brightened and his complexion lost its dissipated +blotchy hue, Ringfield suffered by comparison. He seemed to fail in +some mysterious indefinable way; his thick hair looked thinner on his +temples, his eyes were larger and the set of his mouth reminded one of +Father Rielle in its slow, new writhing smile. If this were Love--how +should any escape? But not only Love, but Hate, and Doubt, and Fear, +were all warring in a good man's breast. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +THE NATURAL MAN + + "Wretched at home, he gained no peace abroad; + Asked comfort of the open air, and found + No quiet in the darkness of the night, + No pleasure in the beauty of the day." + + +Pauline, on retiring to her room, was naturally in a whirl of excited +feelings; never had she dreamt of escape from her surroundings under +such auspices as these. The new affection she had been nursing for +several months speedily melted as she lived over again the +extraordinary sensations of the past hour. Crabbe came in for some of +the glory; she congratulated herself on partly belonging to him, and +with characteristic quickness she amused herself, being too wide awake +for bed just then, in turning out her drawers and boxes and in tying up +the Grand Duchess costume and other accessories in a bundle which she +intended to leave as a present for Sadie Cordova. + +"I shall never require those again, thank Heaven!" said she to herself +as she moved about the plain little room, "or these stage paints and +other 'fixings' as Sadie calls them." + +The imitation earrings went into the bundle; her old sealskin coat and +muff and some photographs of herself and associates in theatrical +costume. It was a case of "on with the new life" carried out with that +conviction and sincerity that distinguished all Miss Clairville's +actions. If she was to marry a rich Englishman, and go to England with +him, travel and keep a maid, she would do it thoroughly; the stage as +well as "Poussette's," the Hotel Champlain as well as Henry and Angeel +must be completely blotted out, else there could be no happiness for +her. Yet at moments there survived, along with this directness of +upward aims, a curious sense of caution, of dislike to part with +certain relics of value, or anything that had figured in her theatrical +life; the Clairville instinct was atavistically working against the new +creature, Pauline; heredity asserting itself in the midst of new and +promising environment. + +The next few days brought remarkable changes, veiled by great care and +deliberation on Crabbe's part. He gave up the shack to Martin and had +a bonfire of his effects. He read the Montreal advertisements of +clothing, and sent for a complete wardrobe and two large trunks, yet +his manner to the few at Poussette's was sufficiently repressed to +discourage curiosity. Every hour Pauline expected him to leave her, be +mysteriously lost, then reappear sullen and sodden, but nothing of the +kind occurred. The news of his rehabilitation had spread, but the +community was too small and the place too remote to understand it +thoroughly; meanwhile, the virtuous aspect of both himself and Amable +Poussette was almost enough to drive a man to drink, so depressing was +the atmosphere of the bar--that place once so cheerful! The lemons +grew dry and crinkled one by one; the lager glasses gradually came to +require dusting; the spirit bottles were discreetly put behind almanacs +and large advertisements of "Fall Fairs"; over all was settling a +blight born of conversion and sobriety. Pitiful to relate--the person +who should have been most pleased and interested in this moral +spectacle was bitterly dubious; Ringfield would not, at this stage, +consent to believe in Crabbe's reformation, but winced and shied at +reports of altered prospects. The subject was easily of first +importance to all at Poussette's, but the Englishman's disdain of +explanations and Pauline's fine-lady air precluded much reference to +the matter; the minister could only accept the position. + +And what was the position? Had not Miss Clairville given him a certain +soft and memorably tender answer, turning away all his jealous wrath; +and filling his soul with "Comfort and Joy, Comfort and Joy"? Had not +his lips pressed hers, his embrace enveloped her yielding form, her +eyes, melting and languorous, drooped before his fiery ones? Were +these things nothing to her, while to him they almost constituted a +marriage? Even with daily evidence of the strongest, he could not +bring himself to believe that she was anything but true. + +Once they met in the wood, face to face, and there could be no excuse +on her part, no elegant evasion of the relations between them, as with +those chilling superior accents she persevered in ignoring the past. +Snow was again on the ground, every twig encased in a round tube of +glassy ice through which showed the grey, brown, or black stem, for a +wonderful glissade had followed the milder weather. The pendent +branches were freighted with soft, white tufts and cushions, and just +as Miss Clairville met Ringfield, under his heavier tread there broke a +large arm of larch stretched across the path. Thus he was compelled to +halt; the rebound and crash had sent snow flying all over her face and +clothes, and naturally he began to brush it off. She kept her hands in +her muff--the old one after all, for Crabbe's purchase had not yet +arrived--and regarded him, with some abatement, it is true, of the +aristocratic hauteur she wore so loftily at Poussette's, but still with +an air far removed from the intimate and sympathetic self she had +revealed in their first meetings. + +"I believe you would have passed me!" said he bitterly, forcing that +raw and unpleasant smile. "If it had been a street, I mean, with +anyone about, or coming out of church! Surely nothing that has +happened can justify you in avoiding me like this!" + +"Avoiding you?" She opened her large eyes in haughty incredulity. +"Why, I have been waiting for an opportunity like this to meet you and +talk it over! tell you something about myself, rather. What odd ideas +you get, _bizarre, mon ami_! Have you heard about my friend, Mr. +Hawtree?" + +Ringfield answered unintelligibly, looking away from her. + +"Have you not? Oh--you have! I thought it very likely. Well, he has +come into a little money; more than a little, indeed, but I am not to +tell. How then--do you think I shall be able to keep the secret? I am +the bad one at that, sure,--as Mr. Poussette would say." + +By degrees her old racy manner returned, and looking over her muff she +permitted her eloquent mischief-making eyes to speak. "What else have +you heard?" + +"That--you are going to marry him." + +"Ah--and that, of course, you do not believe!" + +"For the matter of that, I never believe anything you say. How can I, +how can anyone? You promised me--you know, what--and here you coolly +talk to me about this other man, this wreck of a man, this sot, this +Crabbe! And he is not the only one, I daresay Poussette gets his pay +sometimes, and perhaps the priest as well!" + +"Gets his--pay! _Mon Dieu_, but it is you, you, to insult a woman! +Yes, to insult me!" + +"I am not intending it, I am not aiming insult, but I know whereof I +speak. I impute no more than this; no man works for nothing. If +Poussette harbours you, as he does, he must exact something, if only +silly songs and smiles, the faculty of amusing him now that he has +dropped drinking, and must feed his lower senses in some manner. I +impute no more--no more than frivolity and waste of time, the abasement +of impulses noble enough in themselves." + +"Oh--what a creed, what a creed! I deny such a charge, such an +imputation. I sing and act before Mr. Poussette as I would before you, +and Miss Cordova too. We are artists--do you know what that means, Mr. +Ringfield? And suppose we do not pay--what is that? Mr. Poussette is +agreeable to the arrangement, it is a plentiful house, and always more +than enough in it to eat and drink. I am Ma'amselle de Clairville and +Sadie Cordova is my friend. We take our holiday here--that is all. +_Ma foy_, but why must every one anger me? Why do you purposely +misunderstand?" + +She stamped her foot and trembled. + +"I have only one thing to ask you. Do you intend to--my God, that I +should have to ask it--to marry him?" + +"_Certainement_." A return to her natural manner was characterized by +more French than she customarily used. "I am considering it, thinking +of it, as you did when coming to St. Ignace." + +"Considering it! And when--when--is it likely to be?" + +"Oh--that is for him, for Mr. Hawtree to decide, but I think it will be +at Noel, Christmas time, and in Montreal. Next week I pay some visits; +after that I go to the Hotel Champlain, in Jacques Cartier Square, to +prepare myself for my new _role_, you see." + +"Your new _role_? But are you not then leaving the theatre? Oh--I +understand now, I see what you mean. And you think this is your duty, +to end your life thus by consenting to marry this man?" + +"To end my life? to begin it rather. Believe me--it is better for me +so." + +Great distress showed in Ringfield's voice and bearing; he was in that +state of mind when it became necessary to insist upon his sufferings, +to rehearse his wrongs, and thus an hour wore away in the petty strife +which in his case was characterized by ceaseless strivings to win again +that place in her heart filched from him by her old lover; on her part +the quarrel and the cold weather acted equally in stimulating her to +fresh coquetries. Farther and farther they withdrew into the heart of +the snowy wood, till, when quite remote, they sat down on a fallen log, +beautiful in summer with mosses, lichen and waving ferns, now converted +to a long white cylinder, softly rounded at either end. Here +Ringfield's ardour and his conscientious feelings for her future broke +out in a long and impassioned speech in which he implored her to change +her mind while there was time and to remember her warm promises to +himself. He did not embrace her, and throughout his discourse, for +such it might aptly be termed, he was more the saviour of souls than +the lover. + +"And although I claim no reward for the fact," he concluded sternly, +"it is due me, when I tell you that I know all about that poor child at +Hawthorne, poor Angeel, and that I am going to take the whole matter on +myself and remove her to a more suitable home and surroundings." + +Miss Clairville flushed an angry red. "You--you know all?" she +repeated. "But how--how did you find out? You have seen Henry, +perhaps--oh! you have been talking to him, my poor brother!" + +"No," returned Ringfield. "You forget that people talk to me, bring +these stories to me, make me the recipient of confessions. I have seen +and I have heard, therefore I know. But I will do as I have said. I +shall write to the proper people to look after Angeel, and I shall see +that she is removed before long from Hawthorne." + +"Where to?" + +"Perhaps to a hospital; that of the Incarnation at Lalurette." + +"But that is a Catholic institution!" + +"So much the better." + +"This is extremely kind, extremely generous of you!" said she, in her +most English, and therefore haughtiest manner. "But I myself have had +the same intention. We can work together, I suppose!" + +"No, I prefer that you leave this to me." + +To this she replied sneeringly, and a new cause of recrimination ensued. + +Pauline rose abruptly from the snowy mound and walked to the road, +Ringfield following her, and they did not know that never again on this +earth and during this life would they meet thus--part thus--alone, with +full opportunity to say what they thought, what they wished. + +Sadness fell on both as they shortly went different ways, but whereas +the lively nature of one was soon occupied gaily at Poussette's with +fresh purchases to look at and approve, in the other grief was +succeeded by a gathering of all his forces, as he mentally resolved +(swore, to rightly translate his indomitable mood) to prevent the +marriage. For this was what he had arrived at; nothing more nor less, +and how it might be done haunted him continually as he walked by night +on the frozen road, or sat at meals within sound of Crabbe's cynical +and lettered humour, and within sight of Pauline's white hands on which +gleamed a couple of new and handsome rings. + +She must not marry him! That became the burden of his thought, and the +time-limit of three weeks, bringing it to Christmas Eve, was to him as +the month before execution of the condemned criminal. + +She must not marry him! What then, could or in all likelihood would, +prevent this consummation? The hours flew by and he thought of no +plan. The hard weather still held and grew harder, colder, until the +great drifts blocked all the roads, and St. Ignace was cut off from the +outside world. Still, any hour a thaw might set in and, at the worst, +the railway was hardly ever impracticable for more than a couple of +days. Delay there might be, but one could see that Crabbe would not +refuse to welcome even delay; he sat at the head of the chief table +clad in the regulation tweeds of the country gentleman, and with a kind +of fierce and domineering inflation in his manner that subdued the +irrepressible hilarity of Poussette, threatening to break out again, +for by way of keeping his pledge as to liquor, he seemed to take more +beer than was necessary or good for him. The Cordova, held as a +willing witness and prospective bridesmaid, had to "learn her place" +under the new _regime_, and felt fully as miserable as she looked, for +now no longer revelry graced the night. Poussette's unnaturally long +face matched with Pauline's hauteur and Crabbe's careless air of +mastery; he, the sullen cad, the drunken loafer, having become the +arbiter of manners, the final court of appeal. One day Ringfield had +been lashed to even unusual distress and mortification by the offensive +manner of the guide, who in the course of conversation at the table had +allowed his natural dislike of Dissent and Dissenters to show; "damned +Methodists," and all that sort of talk. The very terms annoyed +Ringfield; they savoured of the Old Country, not of Canada, where +denominational hatred and bigotry should be less pronounced, and as he +left the room Poussette joined him in the hall. + +"Bigosh, Mr. Ringfield, sir--but I don't know how you stand that talk +so long--no, sir, I don't know at all!" He patted the other on the +back. + +"Well, Poussette, I must do the best to stand it that I know how. You +and I agree about a good many things. Tell me--do you believe +that--that Mr.--that he is really a reformed man, really changed in his +habits? And is he going to marry Miss Clairville? You are around with +him a good deal; you are likely to know." + +"The day is feex," returned Poussette without enthusiasm. "The day is +feex, and I am bes' man." + +"What do you think about it, though? Don't you think he'll break out +again?" + +Ringfield's anxious bitter inflections could not escape Poussette. +"Ah-ha! Mr. Ringfield, sir--you remember that I wanted Miss Clairville +for myself? Bigosh--but I have got over that, fine! Sir, I tell you +this, me, a common man--you can get over anything if you make up the +mind. Fonny things happens--and now I snap the finger at Mlle. +Pauline. Why? Because I feex up things with Mees Cordova even better." + +"Mme. Poussette----" began Ringfield. + +"Mme. Poussette is come no more here on me at all, I tell you. No more +on St. Ignace at all." + +"But you cannot _marry_ Miss Cordova, Poussette!" + +"I know very well that, Mr. Ringfield, sir. No. For that, sir, I will +wait. My wife must die some day! Mees Cordova will wait too; she will +_menager_ here for me, and I will threat her proper--oh! you shall see +how I will threat that one!" Poussette seductively nodded his head. +"I will threat her proper, sir, like a lady. Mme. Poussette--she may +stay with Henry Clairville all the rest of her life! I would not take +her back now, for she leave me to go nurse him, and not threat me +right. No sir, not threat me, her husband, Amable Poussette, right at +all." + +"I'm in no mood for these difficult distinctions in morality!" cried +Ringfield in exasperation. "What day is this wedding--tell me that!" + +Poussette gave him the day and hour--eleven o'clock in a certain +Episcopal church in Montreal on the 24th of December, and then they +parted. + +From this moment a steady pursuit of one idea characterized Ringfield's +actions. Already charged to explosive point by pressure of emotions +both worthy and the reverse, he immediately entered into correspondence +with several charitable institutions with regard to Angeel, and he also +wrote to Mr. Enderby and Mr. Abercorn. It was now the ninth of the +month and the snow still held. Sobriety still held and long faces; the +American organ was never opened, and Pauline and her satellite, Miss +Cordova, were mostly buried in their bedrooms, concocting an impromptu +trousseau. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +THE TROUSSEAU OF PAULINE + + "--the whole domain + To some, too lightly minded, might appear + A meadow carpet for the dancing hours." + + +"Tra-la!" sang Miss Clairville, as she pressed heavily on the folds of +a purple cloth skirt which had once done service in the "Grand +Duchess," but was now being transformed by hot irons, rows of black +braid and gilt buttons into a highly respectable travelling dress. + +"I thought at first of giving this old thing away, but see how well +it's going to look, after all!" + +The Cordova, busy heating an iron on the "drum" which stood in a corner +of the room, looked at the skirt and at first said nothing. + +"It's too dark for a bride's travelling-dress," she said after a while. + +"Do you think so? But not for a dark bride," said the other with an +uneasy frown. "Well, I'm not a girl, you see; besides, without a +sewing machine you and I could never manufacture an entire costume. I +meant to give it to you; in fact, I had it tied up in that bundle once, +then I changed my mind--woman's prerogative--and here it is." + +"Thank you, but I shouldn't care for it anyhow, purple's not my colour; +it looks awful with my kind of hair." + +Pauline glanced up coldly at the bleached head bending over the irons. + +"Perhaps it does. Well--it's too late now even if you did care for it. +I'll wear plenty of white around my neck and down the front; a cascade, +_jabot_ effect always suits me." + +She wound a white scarf around her as she spoke, and bent an old black +hat into a three-cornered shape on top of her head. + +"There, my dear, there is the true French face, only you don't know it! +If I could take you to my home, you would see--well, you would not see +much beyond Henry and his eternal books, though they tell me he reads +no more. I'm thinking of an old portrait I resemble." + +Miss Clairville now sat on the bed, having relinquished the work of +doing over the cloth skirt to her friend. + +"Why are you keeping that red and black dress there, the theatre dress? +You will never need that, travelling!" + +"No, I suppose not, only----" + +Pauline eyed the dress. The family trait of acquisitiveness combined +with a love of hoarding was asserting itself, and she could scarcely +make up her mind to part with things when the time came. Besides, this +dress carried her back to meetings with Ringfield, and again she saw +the passionate admiration in his eyes as they talked in whispers on her +balcony. + +"Oh--a fancy of mine! I look well in it. I wore it when Henry was +taken ill with the 'pic'." + +With a loud shriek Miss Cordova dropped an iron on the floor. + +"What is it now? _Quelle betise_! Stupid--I wasn't with him! I +meant--about that time. But if you want the dress, take it, take it! +_Mon Dieu_! what a state your nerves must be in!" + +"I'm much better than when I came here," said Miss Cordova quickly. +"Say, Pauline,--did you know I thought of sending for the children?" + +"Your children? To come here?" + +"Yes. Now, Pauline, it sounds queer, I know, and worse than anything +I've ever done, yet--it isn't as bad as it sounds. But, but--well, I +may just as well out with it. Mr. Poussette has proposed!" + +"To you?" + +Miss Cordova stopped in her work. "Yes. He seems to be serious and I +like it here, like him too, so I guess we'll fix it up somehow. Of +course his wife's living, but she's not right in her head, so she don't +count." + +"And your two husbands are alive, but as one drinks and the other was +married when he met you, _they_ don't count." Miss Clairville was +staring in front of her. "My dear girl--have you never heard of such a +thing as bigamy? You're talking nonsense, and you must not allow Mr. +Poussette to get you into trouble. You can't marry him, Sara!" + +"Of course. I know that. But we are both willing to wait. Schenk +can't last long; he's drinking harder than ever from last accounts, and +Stanbury--well, perhaps I'd better stop short of saying anything about +English swells, but Charlie Stanbury had no right to me in the first +instance, and now I'm not going to let the faintest thought of him stop +me in my last chance of a home and quiet, peaceful living. +Oh--Pauline--I was never the same after I discovered how Stanbury +wronged me! Nothing seemed to matter and I went from bad to worse. +But since I've been here, I've seen things in a different light, and +I'd like to stay here and bring the children away from New York and let +them grow up where they'll never hear a word about their father or +about me and Schenk." + +She spoke with sad conviction, her eyes filling, her hands trembling as +she worked on at Pauline's skirt. + +"You'd give up the theatre and all the rest of it, and come and live at +St. Ignace if you could?" + +"Indeed I would, Pauline. Indeed, indeed I would." + +"This is too droll! For here am I, pining to get away and be free of +this place for ever! But that's because I belong here." + +"Yes, and because you have no children to think about. If you +had--you'd understand. While Schenk's alive he may find me any day in +New York, but I don't believe he'd ever think of looking for me here. +My mother'd know how to send the children along, I guess, and they'd +always have enough to eat and drink, and fresh air and a place to play +in, and I'm sure Mr. Poussette would be kind to them. You know he's a +funny-talking man, but he's got a real good heart, and Maisie and Jack +might have a good time here." + +"Yes, I know, but----" Miss Clairville's aristocratic and +sophisticated side was dubious. + +"But what? It's all very well for you, just making a fresh start, +getting married and going to Europe and wanting to see a little more of +the world than the Champlain House and St. Ignace, but I've had enough +of the world--too much! I want to bring up my children honest, honest +and respectable, and I can't do it, Pauline, in one room on Sixth Ave. +Maisie, now, wants to be out in the streets every evening; she'd +rather--than stay with me at the theatre even." + +"How old is Maisie?" asked Miss Clairville suddenly. + +"Why, she's most eleven years of age, I reckon. Let's see! I met +Stanbury in--seventy-seven; Maisie--yes, she's just eleven, and Jack's +nine and half. Say--wasn't it a good thing that I didn't have any +family to Schenk?" + +"How can you be so very vulgar!" said Miss Clairville with a curling +lip. "But I suppose it was a good thing--the Will of God--according to +Father Rielle. Eleven! And Angeel's nine. Nearly ten." + +"Angeel? Who's she? You don't mean to tell me that you----" + +"What do you mean?" said Miss Clairville fiercely. "What right have +you to imagine such things? I'll tell you some day about Angeel, but +just now I prefer to discuss something pleasant. We will resume our +packing, my dear. Here is this blanket coat. What am I to do with it?" + +"Give it away, of course. You'll never wear it again, Pauline, where +you're going!" + +"I know I shan't," replied Miss Clairville, compressing her lips as she +regarded with a critical eye the antiquated wine-red garment adorned +with a white sash, and tuque to correspond. "But I look so well in +this, too!" + +"If you don't want it, let me have it for Maisie. Why--it would be +just the thing for her, running around here all winter! Say, +Pauline--ain't it funny to think she's the child of an English swell? +Stanbury's from a real good family, I can tell you. I guess your Mr. +Hawtree would be likely to know all about him. You might ask him. +Then there's this white evening dress. My--it's dirty enough, goodness +knows! It ought to be French cleaned, but who's to do it in this +out-of-the-way place? Here are a lot of roses falling out of it--do +they belong to it?" + +"That's my Camille dress. The roses go around the skirt--see?--in +garlands: same around the waist and on the hair. I might turn it into +a _peignoir_, I suppose. But I think I will give it to you, Sara; you +can keep it till Maisie grows up and do it--how do you say?--do it over +for her. Is she fair or dark?" + +"Dark--just like Stanbury. Say, won't you tell me about Angeel now?" + +"No, no! _O--pour l'amour de Dieu_, don't drag her in at this time! +Haven't I enough to worry me? What shall I do if Edmund breaks out +again? I haven't seen him all day." + +Miss Cordova was very thoughtful for an instant. + +"Seems to me you ought to've had more under-clothes," she said +solemnly, and Pauline laughed. "And what you have got are far too +plain. My--the ones I saw just before I came away from New York! Say, +Pauline--there was twenty-five yards of lace, honest, to one nightgown!" + +"Was there? At Sorel we were not allowed one yard; frilly things, and +too much lace and ribbons are the mark of bad women. Did you ever hear +that?" + +"I guess my mother held some notions like those. She used to +say--quality was the thing, and was never satisfied till she got the +best lawn, soft as silk, but she never had much trimming on them. Cut +plain and full, was almost always her directions. Well, now--yes, I +guess you'll have to wait till you go to Paree before you replenish +that side of your wardrobe. Is your Mr. Hawtree free with his money?" + +"Yes, yes!" rejoined Pauline hurriedly. The fact being that after the +initial flourish and purchase of a few pieces of jewellery and other +trinkets Crabbe had tightened his purse-strings, as it were, not from +miserliness, but because it was necessary to use caution until they +reached London, when larger sums would be paid over on due recognition +of his identity. "Free enough for the present. As for me, I have +saved nothing, nothing! How could I, with this need for ready money +hanging over me? So I do not like to ask too much, just now, and, like +a man, he provides me with diamond earrings while I lack proper shoes +and an umbrella." + +"Take mine!" said Miss Cordova earnestly. "It's real silk and it won't +matter if there's an 'S' on the handle. It was his--Stanbury's." + +"My dear girl," cried Pauline, "I couldn't! You'll need it yourself. +See--it's silver mounted and valuable!" + +"I know it, and that's why I want you should have it. We've been good +friends, Pauline, even if there is a difference in our education, and +I'd like to give you some little thing. Do please take the umbrella." + +All Miss Clairville's latent womanliness sprang to the surface as she +jumped off the bed and enfolded her friend in a warm embrace. + +"God knows, you will never be forgotten by me, Sara! We've struggled +together too long for that. You have a sweet temper and a kind heart, +and _le bon Dieu_ takes note of that. I wish now you _could_ marry Mr. +Poussette, for I see that you'll miss me when I'm gone, and that's not +a bad idea about your children. I hope I'll never have any; I'd be +afraid, I'd be afraid. Well, I'll accept the umbrella then, _in +memoriam_ if you like. And you take the white dress, and these long +yellow gloves, and this sash for Maisie, and here's a _bijou_ imitation +watch and chain for Jack--eh? What's the matter?" + +Miss Cordova leant heavily on her friend. + +"They are calling us," she said. + +"Who are?" + +"I don't know. Listen! Some one's wanted. It's me. It's me. +Perhaps Schenk's come! Pauline, what shall I do?" + +"Absurd! No one can get here; you forget the roads and the snow. +Schenk? He is miles away!" + +"Then it's for you. Yes. They're coming up. Listen--it is you, +'Ma'amselle Clairville,' I hear them say!" + +"But why be so alarmed?" cried Pauline, and she threw open the door. + +Antoine Archambault and Poussette stood outside. + +"Your brother the seigneur is dying, mademoiselle," said Poussette, +"and desires to see you at once. There is no time to lose." + +"What is it?" asked Miss Cordova, not comprehending the foreign tongue, +and they told her. + +Miss Clairville's face changed. She trembled visibly, made the sign of +the cross--so potent is habit, so strong are traditions--but uttered +nothing. + +"She is ill!" said Miss Cordova, and she led her friend to a chair. + +"No, no, I am not ill. But I do not want to go. _Je ne le veux pas_. +I do not wish at all to go. I will not go, Sara!" + +"It's hard, I guess," said the other woman sympathetically, "but it's +natural he should want to see you before he dies. Of course, she'll +go, Mr. Poussette, and I'll go with her." + +"No, no!" said Pauline, starting up, "if I go it must be alone. But +why should I go?" + +She looked piteously from one to the other. "What good can I or anyone +do to him if he is dying? Perhaps there is some mistake." + +Antoine spoke in voluble French in accompaniment to Poussette's +gestures, and at the words she drooped appallingly. + +"Come, Pauline, perhaps it will not be so terrible after all. You were +going to visit him this week anyway." + +"I know, I know, but this is different, dreadful, startling. It makes +me so--I cannot describe. Who is with him? Only Mlle. Poussette! Oh, +why--why? It will spoil my marriage, Sara; perhaps it will prevent my +marriage!" + +"Nothing of the kind! No, no. You will be married the sooner, I +daresay. Where is Mr. Hawtree? Why don't he come up and talk to you?" + +"He is being driven with Alexis Tremblay to the station! A train may +pass through this morning." + +Pauline now recollected that he had gone to Montreal to make final +preparations for the wedding; among other things, the drawing up of an +antiquated contract according to the mixed law of the Province. A +sudden wish woke in her to run away and join him and so evade the +painful scene which must ensue if she obeyed her brother's commands. + +"Death's a dreadful thing anyway, I guess," remarked Miss Cordova to +fill in the silence, touching Pauline's thick loops of hair as she +spoke. "I just know how you feel." + +"_Mon Dieu_--be quiet, Sara! It isn't his death I mind so much as his +dying. Do you not see--he will make me promise, he will bother me into +something; dying people always do--I can't explain. If he would just +die and have done with it!" + +Even the men felt the unusual distress of mind which prompted this +outburst of selfish candour, and Miss Cordova drew away. + +"Seems to me your brother's in the hands of the Lord and I guess He's +mightier than you are. My mother's a New England woman and was always +afraid about my going on the stage, and I suppose I've gone wrong +_some_, but I couldn't, like you, go back on a poor, dying creature. +Say, Pauline, hadn't you better see a clergyman? Where's that young +man? Where's Mr. Ringfield?" + +"I do not require his services, thank you. But yes--you mean well. If +I'm anything, I'm a Catholic, my dear--and now take all these things +and put them away. I think I shall never _marier_ with anyone in this +world. I must go, I suppose. Antoine will drive, and I shall go +alone." + +Miss Cordova silently moved about the small room, not sharing in the +gloomy views of the prospective bride, for she carefully went on +packing the scanty trousseau which included badly mended _lingerie_, +the red dinner dress, and three gay satin waists bought by Crabbe in +the shops of St. Laurent, Main Street, one of canary and black lace, +another of rose colour, and a third of apple-green. There were veils +enough to stock a store, ties, collars, ribbons, small handkerchiefs +and showy stockings in profusion, with a corresponding dearth of strong +sensible clothing. The trousseau of Pauline was essentially French in +its airiness; its cheap splendours attested to one side of her peculiar +character and the sturdier and more sensible attributes of the _belle +Canadienne_ were for the time obliterated. The blanket coat and tuque +and the Camille dress were tied up by Miss Cordova for Maisie, and +within half an hour Pauline had departed with Antoine, and the others +lapsed to the unsettled calm which overtakes a community when it is +known that the inevitable must shortly occur. That unpleasant negative +condition of waiting for a death was now shared by all at Poussette's +as the news spread through St. Ignace. Father Rielle was seen to drive +away, and Dr. Renaud was already at the Manor House, but Ringfield, +shut up in his own room, reading and pondering, heard nothing of the +matter for several hours. However, Poussette and Miss Cordova, to +relieve tedium, went into the kitchen, where, secure from both Stanbury +and Schenk, the ex-actress took a lesson in cooking, by tea-time +producing pancakes so excellent that they rivalled if not excelled +those of her instructor. Indeed, with this happily met couple, time +flew by on feathered wings. Miss Cordova was quick on her feet, bright +in her talk, and her vivacity and grace charmed the susceptible +Frenchman, too long accustomed to the shrinking nervous figure of the +absent Natalie. She stood on chairs and renewed her youth, looking +into tins and boxes and bringing to light jams and biscuits the host +had forgotten. She sang snatches of Offenbach and Verdi, she beat the +eggs while Poussette made up his fire, and when he squeezed her hand or +put his fat arm around her waist she did not prudishly push him away, +but, gently resisting, rebuked him in such affectionate terms that he +politely restrained those damaging caresses. In short, she managed +Poussette instead of being persuaded by him, and this in itself pleased +her and restored her self-respect; her previous relations with Stanbury +and Schenk suffered by comparison, and if she secretly hoped for the +death or removal of Mme. Poussette it was with soft womanly compunction +and pity, and with stern resolves not to overstep the mark of purity. + +So--in this poor, obscure, half-educated soul, this Guinevere of lowly +life, burnt the flame of natural goodness. Ignorant of ritual, she had +long ago compiled a prayer for herself which ran; "O God--I wasn't a +good girl, and I haven't been a good woman, but I've tried to be a good +mother. Help me to be a Holy Saint after I die. Amen." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +THE SEIGNEUR PASSES + + "Mortality's last exercise and proof + Is undergone; the transit made that shows + The very soul, revealed as it departs." + + +Henry Clairville lay in the ancient and tattered bed which not even the +activities of Mme. Poussette could render more than moderately decent. +The sands of life were running out indeed; a great change was apparent +in his pinched and freckled features, and his small colourless eyes had +sunk entirely back into his head. Two large cats slept at his feet and +three more lay under the bed; despite all madame could do to remove +them, these five out of the fourteen persisted in returning again and +again to the familiar habitat which custom or attachment had made +necessary. Their brown tigery sides rose and fell peacefully in the +sound slumber induced by the plentiful fare of Clairville, but no sleep +came to their master. Occasionally he would stretch forth a withered +hand to try and stroke one or other of his pets, but they had gradually +slipped to the foot of the bed, their weight, which was considerable, +having formed a deep pit in the lumpy feather mattress. Mme. Poussette +sat in the room, Dr. Renaud across the hall in the faded _salon_, while +the priest arranged the holy office of the Blessed Sacrament in a +corner with his back turned, occasionally repeating aves and prayers +under his breath. + +Pauline's entrance, subdued from her native impetuosity to something +chastened and severe, was still out of harmony with the shabby carpet, +the patched counterpane, and the meagre daylight; she brought into the +room an extraordinary sense of brightness, and yet she had taken some +trouble to amend her costume and bring it within the range of things +sorrowful and sober. Her side face, in particular, nothing could tame; +the exquisite ear, defined by a diamond, showed youthfully against the +dark hair looped thickly just behind it, the full chin and curved lips +were always on the point, seemingly, of breaking into a smile, whereas +the front face betrayed both age and agitation by the vertical lines of +the forehead and by the strained expression of the eyes, oftener fiery +and worried than calm and pleasing. + +Mme. Poussette left her chair and approached the lady of the Manor, but +nothing more than a fleeting contemptuous glance did the latter bestow. +At the sight of Henry and the cats all her courage returned and a +measure of her temper. + +"I was sent for and I am here," she said, advancing to the middle of +the room with not a shred of kindness in her manner. Was it not as it +had always been--hateful, uncongenial, difficult? Why must she feign +hypocritical interest and sympathy? "And I know why you sent for me, +but I tell you, Henry, it is of no use. I will promise nothing." + +The seigneur moved heavily from his side to his back and weakly opened +his small eyes upon her. It was evident that he was clear in his mind. + +"You were sent for and you are here," he repeated, "but you did not +wish to come. Did not Nature work within you, bidding you come? Did +not sisterly love, sweet kinship, weigh with you at all?" + +"Not in the least," replied Miss Clairville coldly. She continued to +stand, although the other woman proffered a chair, nor did she unfasten +her fur coat or draw off her gloves. Her brother took note of this. + +"You had better sit," he murmured. + +"I will not! In this room--you know I have never sat here since---- +You know the vow I made. And why." + +"I know, my sister, I know. Nevertheless, sit now." + +Father Rielle turned half round. "Sit, my daughter. It will not be +for long." + +And from Dr. Renaud came the sharp order: "Sit--at once." + +Overruled, but with annoyance and aversion in every movement, Pauline +took madame's chair. + +"I cannot stay--I mean--I cannot stay long. Oh--Henry, why have you +brought me here? I can do you no good, and the sight of you will do me +harm, it always does!" + +This outburst was more natural to her stormy temperament than her +previous rigidity; her hands clasped and unclasped, while the frown +between her eyes, almost the shape of a barred gate, broke up as a few +wild tears fell upon her lap. Clairville, for his part, though a dying +man, showed resolution and calm obstinacy. + +"You ask that question--and yet you profess to know why I sent for you? +If you do not come to me of your goodwill, I must send for you, that is +clear. You are hearing nothing of me, for I have been too long a dead +man to the world, but I continue to hear much of you. This +marriage--is it true?" + +"I was coming to you," she said hastily, and with evasion; "I had made +arrangements so that when I leave Canada for good I shall have nothing +to reproach myself for." + +"I ask--and see that you answer--you are going to be married?" + +With an uneasy glance at the priest, Miss Clairville murmured: "Yes". +Then louder, as if in an effort to assert herself: "It is to Mr. +Hawtree, an old friend, your friend. There is nothing new or +surprising, nothing peculiar in that. Only what is new is this--that +he will not have to work, that he has come into some money, that we can +go away and live in other places; live indeed how or where we like. +Henry--think what that will do for me! Think how it will change all my +life and how at last I shall realize my dreams, if not fulfil my +ambitions! And then I may be able to help you too, perhaps--and--and +Angeel. That is--I am not sure of this, but I shall try and do so." + +Clairville seemed to be endeavouring to look at his sister more closely. + +"I cannot hear you very well. Will you approach the bed, Pauline? I +am feeble, you see--I am----" Terrible coughing now interrupted him, +and he called upon the doctor. + +"Renaud!" he gasped. "Where is Renaud?" + +"Not far off," replied the medical man, sauntering easily to the +bedside. "Come then, Mlle. Pauline, do your best for your brother. +Take his hand. Bend your face--so. Lower, if you please! Madame will +go to the other side,--a good woman, mademoiselle, a good kind woman!" + +"Have I said she was anything else?" returned Pauline, stiffly obeying +the doctor's instructions, but with obvious dislike in every movement. +She took the seigneur's hand, she forced herself to place her head +almost upon his pillow. + +"You are uncomfortable, my poor Pauline! You shrink from me, you would +avoid this meeting, this last scene on earth, but remember, this hour, +this scene comes to all, will come, must come to you. If you marry, if +you have good loving children, when this hour comes, you shall not pray +in vain nor weep, for they will surround you, but I, Pauline, I have +only you, you and one other." + +"But that other! You have not sent for her? She is not here." + +"No, not yet. I spare you that, Pauline; she will arrive later, +after--I am gone. Father Rielle knows at last; he never suspected. +Renaud knows; speak to her, Renaud, tell her." + +Another fit of coughing shook him, and the cats, disturbed in their +sleep, stood up, arching their brown backs and yawning. + +"Take them off, take them away!" moaned Pauline, her eyes closed, but +the seigneur shook a menacing finger. + +"They do no harm," said the doctor tersely. "Keep his feet warm, I +daresay." + +"Not even that, Renaud, not even that. But leave them--good cats, good +friends." + +The cats curled up again in conscious attitudes, while from under the +vast and ancient bed came a loud and insistent purring, rising and +falling with triumphant, happy cadences--the song of the mother-cat, +impervious to all save her immediate surroundings. + +"If they were dogs," cried Miss Clairville, in fretful fear and +mortification, "they would not sleep like that! They would know you +were ill, dying, and they would keep watch and show affection. I +always hated cats, and now I shall hate them more than ever." + +"What are cats?" said the doctor with a yawn, which vanished as he +glanced down at his patient. "Come, you are here to arrange a few +details with monsieur your brother--make haste then. Madame, some +water and a little brandy in it! So. Now, Mademoiselle, attend." + +"There is not so much for me to say," said the sick man, pressing +Pauline's hand with wistful entreaty, "as there is from me to hear from +you yourself. I have confessed my fault, my sin, and yet, not my sin, +Pauline. Angele is my child, by Artemise Archambault, as you have +always known, but she is more, she is my daughter, legitimately +begotten, in proper wedlock. This you did not know, my poor Pauline. +She is a true Clairville, my sister, a De Clairville, I should say." + +Pauline was now entirely overcome with a new emotion, that of intense +surprise and consternation; instantly the consequences of legitimizing +"Angeel" rushed at her. Instead of a low _liaison_ there was marriage; +the child and she were heirs alike; they were relations and should be +friends, and what she had feared to hear timidly broached--some plan to +keep the child near her--would now be insisted upon. + +"Oh!" she cried, drawing away, "this is worse than anything I came +prepared to hear! This is the worst, cruellest of all. Far better had +she been nameless, far, far better. Perhaps--ah! yes--now I +understand; he is ill, he wanders, he does not know what he is saying." + +"Tell her, Renaud." + +"It is all true, mademoiselle. Believe what he says, for he was never +clearer in the head, not often so clear in life and health as now." + +At this she broke down completely, sobbing aloud. The priest gently +intervened. + +"I cannot allow this, my daughter. You must respect the hour, the +condition of monsieur, the place, the death-bed of a Christian, +mademoiselle!" + +Pauline's sudden sharp sobs were all that could be heard. She had +never wept like this in her life before. + +"What is it you want me to do? Not take her with me, not have her to +live with me? I could not, Henry, I could not. Even if I could +overcome my horror of her--poor innocent child, for it is not her fault +she is as she is--I have no right to visit her on Edmund when we are +married. Yes, yes--you must see that we shall be separated. Angele +and her mother--oh! it is not possible--yet I must call her so since +you say it, your wife, Henry, the Archambault girl, will live here. +They will be comfortable, and if we do well where we are going, if +Edmund comes into his money----" + +Clairville interrupted her. + +"It is of him, too, Hawtree, that I would speak. I fear, I fear--he is +not what he should be, to be your husband, my poor Pauline. His +talk--he has told me much of his past, of women, other women. +Pauline--he has loved in many places." + +"Yes, but I was the last--and best!" broke from Miss Clairville in a +burst of self-pity. Her eager accents lent pathos to the triumphant +declaration and she fancied the priest laughing in his corner! the +doctor gave a snort of ridicule and even the lips of the impassive +nurse seemed to contract with a contemptuous smile. + +"He tells you so, he tells you so. Well, may it be so then, and Heaven +bless you, Pauline. If I--if I----" his lean hand moved jerkily; it +wandered in search of her head, but instead of those dark locks of hair +it fell on the back of a cat. Pauline was swayed by extraordinary and +clashing emotions. He--her hated and despised brother--was trying to +bless her, to lay unsanctified and sinful yet yearning hands upon her, +and it was a blow to her pride to learn forbearance in such a school +and from such a teacher. But he had spoken almost his last words. He +collapsed, groaning, and the doctor and Mme. Poussette each passed an +arm under him. Father Rielle appeared at the bedside with the +sacrament. + +"Not for a minute or two," said Dr. Renaud. "He is still worried in +his mind. It is you, mademoiselle, always you. He is uneasy about the +child. I know what he wishes; that you will be friendly with her, +treat her as your own blood, stay here with her, it may be, for a +season. Promise, mademoiselle, and quickly." + +"I cannot! I cannot!" + +"Nonsense! Promise--and at once." + +Father Rielle whispered in her ear: "Promise, my daughter." + +"It will be useless. I should not keep such a promise." + +"What does that matter? Promise--to soothe his dying moments, even if +you break it afterwards. The Church thus orders, and the Church will +make good, will console." + +Thus hemmed in, Pauline bent and gave her promise; much shaken and +still violently sobbing, she then left the room and Renaud accompanied +her. The act was significant, the leech of the body withdrawing to +make room for the leech of the soul. The door was softly drawn to by +Mme. Poussette; the low sound of Father Rielle's voice was heard at +intervals, then there was a silence. Ten minutes later the priest and +nurse came out, throwing wide the door on the remains of Henry +Clairville, just passed from this world to the next. At the same +instant, a strange incongruous sound came from the room, and Pauline, +wide-eyed and panting, stopped sobbing, and stood up with her hands +pressed over her heart. It was the penetrating chant of three lusty +kittens, new-born, blind and helpless, yet quick to scent their mother +and grope towards her furry bosom. + +Madame hastily re-entered, driving all the cats before her, including +the outraged mother, who took this summary eviction with hoarse and +angry cries, and the kittens, gathered roughly into madame's apron, +continued to emit shrill, smothered squeals all the way to the kitchen. +Dr. Renaud passed in to verify the death, and the incident of the cats +was not lost upon him; indeed, it appealed to his professional instinct. + +"In the midst of Death we are in Life," he remarked jocularly, stepping +back into the hall to get ready for the drive homeward. + +Miss Clairville glanced at these preparations, and speedily made up her +mind. She had grown quiet and was already relieved at the prospect of +leaving Clairville immediately. + +"It cannot matter now whether I go or stay, surely! Dr. Renaud, I go +with you, is it not so?" + +"Faith--it doesn't matter any longer now, as you say. Quick with you +then, for I have much in the village to arrange; a Clairville does not +die every day. Madame has the young Antoine with her, she will not be +afraid. I can send somebody out to sit with her, and you will be best +at Poussette's." + +The day was cold but bright and intensely sunny, and Pauline's relief +and gratitude to the doctor brought back her colour; she sat up, +casting her care behind her, and let him talk. + +"Well, there was not much to be done with him; the 'pic' had weakened +the system, and after so many years of incarceration in a sleeping-room +the chest and lungs were delicate; hence the congestion and cause of +death. Well, well--let me see--I remember your brother twenty-three +years ago when I first came to St. Ignace. A strange, bookish, +freakish character, but a gentleman, that goes without saying, +Ma'amselle Pauline. And you, just a little black-haired girl, reciting +French tragedy in the untidy garden! Ah--ah! I see it clearly--no +father, no mother, save old Victoria Archambault, and yet you grew up a +handsome young lady, always thinking of making your fortune, eh? And +you cannot have made it yet or you would not be contemplating marriage +with our friend the Englishman." + +Pauline's face changed at this; the barred gate stood out over her +eyes, and with ease and happiness fading from her mouth and expression +she turned on Renaud. + +"Who was there to help me make it or to care if I made it at all? Now +that you know the truth and see what Henry is and was, how could I be +anything or do anything in such a _milieu_! You taunt me, you--who +profess to have known nothing of the Archambault affair all these +years!" + +"I give you the word of honour, mademoiselle, I swear it to you--I knew +nothing! Recollect--your brother never would admit a doctor, you were +strong and healthy and much away from Clairville; of the child I only +heard from those at Hawthorne and I did not connect what I did hear +with either you or the seigneur, as he liked to call himself. These +afflicted ones, these peculiar ones--Mme. Poussette kept the secret +well. But two days ago he sent for me and told me everything; how he +was properly married in the parish of Sault au Recollet to Artemise +Archambault, she, the half-witted, the empty-headed--God knows whether +that was the charm or what--and of the birth of the child, he told me. +What could you expect from the union of two such natures? If you +marry, mademoiselle, mate neither with a bad temper nor an unbridled +thirst." + +"Ah, be quiet, Dr. Renaud! You are the blunt well-wisher, I suppose, a +type I detest! How can I help myself! I have chosen, and you know the +Clairville character." + +"Yes, I know, but count before you jump--'tis safer. Jesting aside, +ma'amselle, and although I come from a death-bed I jest with a light +heart as one who sees on the whole enough of life and never too much of +death--you are still too young and too brilliant a woman to marry +anything but well. But I have said, I have finished." + +"And not too soon"--was Miss Clairville's inward thought, as with new +fears pricking at her heart she kept silence, so unusual a thing with +her that the garrulous Renaud observed it and endeavoured to correct +his pessimism. + +"Enough of Life and not too much of Death," he repeated, gaily +flourishing his whip. "It has a queer sound, that, eh? But it is like +this, ma'amselle; when I bring to life, when I usher into this world, I +see the solemnity and the importance of life in front of me and I am +sad; it makes me afraid. When I assist at the grave I am calm and +happy, light-hearted even, because there our responsibility for one +another ceases, so long as we keep the Masses going." + +"The Masses! For their souls you mean, for his soul? How then--do you +believe that, Dr. Renaud?" + +"Eh? Believe--mademoiselle? Come, you take me at a disadvantage. Am +I not a good Catholic then? Pardon me, but I never discuss these +questions. Without the Church we should be much worse than we are, and +faith--some of us are about as bad as we can be already." + +Pauline, tired out, said no more, but leaning back fell into dreaming +of her marriage and of the life before her. Her brother was gone, +peacefully and honourably on the whole; of Angeel it was not necessary +to think, and if Artemise were to remain at Clairville as its mistress, +a very good way might be opened toward conciliating the neighbourhood +and of managing the child for the future. The Archambaults would most +likely all return, evict Mme. Natalie Poussette, who would return to +her husband, and Clairville Manor again assume the lively air of a +former period, with French retainers young and old overrunning the +house and grounds. + +Once more in thought Miss Clairville saw the culmination of her hopes +all revolving around the interesting Hawtree, and once more she began +in fancy to add to, sort over, and finally pack away the airy trousseau +which must now be enriched by at least one sober black suit, hat and +mourning veil. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +RELAPSE + + "How shall I trace the change, how bear to tell + How he broke faith----" + + +The Hotel Champlain is a hostelry not on the list which promises the +highest class of entertainment for the tourist; one has not to go there +unless one is French or in some way connected with or interested in +French life and character, yet the _cuisine_ is excellent and the rooms +clean and neat. The occasional presence of pompous Senators from the +provinces on their way to the legislative halls of the capital ensures +a certain average of cooking and attendance; at other times prevail the +naturally comfortable instincts of the host and hostess, M. and Mme. +Alphonse Prefontaine, a couple bearing the same initials as the +Poussettes, the wife a Natalie too, but extremely different in ideals +and character. Thus, monsieur, the host, had voyaged, been to "Paris, +France," emphasized in case you should think he meant that village, +Paris, Ontario; had written a brochure on his travels and was a great +patron of such arts as at that time the French population of Montreal +were privileged to offer. Madame, the wife, with well-frizzed black +hair, strong features and kindly dark eyes, was handsome enough for a +Lady Mayoress, had excellent if a little showy taste in dress and had +reared a large and healthy family. + +To their comfortable roof Crabbe repaired rather than to any English +one, because he was not yet completely reinstated in his own +self-respect, and to patronize places suited to him in a prosperous +future might now invite too much criticism. The Prefontaines knew Miss +Clairville well and had heard from her of the rich Englishman to whom +she was about to be married, and Crabbe was therefore received with +more than Gallic fervour, assigned one of the best rooms, and after +seeing a clergyman and attending to other matters touching the +approaching ceremony, shut himself up with certain manuscripts that he +wished to look over before mailing them to England. He had arrived at +noon on the day of Henry Clairville's death and the next morning +accordingly brought him the news in print. He grew thoughtful for a +while, meant to dispatch a telegram of condolence to Pauline, then +forgot it as he became interested in his work. Two poems in particular +came in for much revision: "The Lay of an Exiled Englishman," and +"Friends on the Astrachan Ranch," pleased him with their lines here and +there, yet the general and final effect seemed disappointing to his +fine critical side; like many another he saw and felt better than he +could perform. + +"A Tennysonian ring, I fear. Yet what man alive and writing now can +resist it? It slides into the veins, it creeps along the nerves, it +informs us as we speak and move and have our being. I'll read +aloud--ghastly perhaps, but the only way to judge effect." + +He began, and the long lines rose and fell with precision and academic +monotony; he was no elocutionist, but read as authors read their own +works, as Schubert played his own music, and as he read the snow fell +in thick swirling masses outside his window and the cold grew more and +more penetrating and intense. A knock at the door roused him. It was +a servant of the house who spoke English. The host had sent to know +whether the guest was warm. + +"Well, come to think of it," said Crabbe, "I'm not too warm, by any +means. You can tell them to fire up downstairs, certainly. What time +is luncheon here?" + +"Do you mean dinner, sir?" + +"Oh, yes, dinner, of course. One o'clock? Very well." + +"No order, sir? For the bar, I mean?" + +Crabbe stared at the speaker then straightened himself and looked out +of the window. Was it snowing at St. Ignace, and on Henry Clairville's +grave? Would Pauline go into mourning? + +"No, I think not. A bottle of Bass at my dinner--that's all." + +The interruption over, he went back to his poetry, and this time read +on until he had finished. Then he was silent, staring at the table +with his legs straight out in front of him, and his hands in his +pockets. + +"What rot your own poetry can sound!" he finally observed with a frown. + +"Verse certainly needs an audience, and there's a turn, a lilt that +reminds me of Carleton occasionally--that won't do. Must go at it +again. Must go at it again. Better have a smoke." + +He found and lit his pipe, read over the stanzas, this time in his +head, and the room grew steadily colder, until he could hardly stand +it. He rang the bell. + +"Look here! Tell Mr. Prefontaine his guests are freezing in this +house. Get him to fire up, there's a good fellow--and--look here? How +soon will dinner be ready?" + +"Not for some time, sir. Perhaps, if you're cold, a hot Scotch----" + +But Crabbe was again buried in his work. At one he dined, very much +admired by Mme. Prefontaine and her three daughters; he had his +innocent tipple and then went back to his room. By three o'clock it +was growing dark and he rose to pull down the blind, when a step +outside in the hall arrested him. The step seemed familiar, yet +incongruous and uncongenial; it was followed by a knock, and, going +forward, Crabbe opened the door to Ringfield. + +Astonishment showed in the Englishman's face, but he spoke amiably +enough and invited the young man inside. Ringfield's countenance wore +its perennial grave aspect, but it could also be seen that at that +moment he was suffering from the cold. He wore no muffler, and his +hands were encased in mere woollen gloves; he had also the appearance +of being a martyr to influenza, and Crabbe regarded him with his usual +contemptuous familiarity. + +"What's brought you to town this infernally cold day?" he said. +"You're not going to be married, you know." + +The pleasantry did not apparently disconcert the other, but he looked +carefully around as if searching for something before he answered. + +"To be candid, I followed you here to have a talk with you." + +"The deuce you did--white choker and all! You have a cheek, haven't +you? Then you must be pretty flush, after all, even if you have not +any expectations, like me, Ringfield. You've never congratulated me, +but let that pass. As you are here, what do you want to talk about?" + +The two stood facing each other, with the paper-strewn table between +them. + +"I should almost think you could guess," murmured Ringfield with an +effort to be easy. "But before I, at least, can do any talking I must +get warm. I'm chilled--chilled to the bone." And indeed he looked it. +His hollow eyes, his bluish lips, his red hands and white fingers +indicated his condition, and he had also a short, spasmodic cough, +which Crabbe had never noticed at St. Ignace. Suddenly in the guide +there awoke the host, the patron, and he drew the blind, placed chairs +and grumbled at the stove-pipe. + +"Oh for an open fire!" he cried. "Eh, Ringfield? One of your little +Canadian open stoves would do, a grate--anything to sit before! Why, +man, I'm afraid you have got a touch of the ague, or something worse, +perhaps pneumonia." + +"Not as bad as that, surely," returned the other with his wry smile. +"I walked from the station to save a cab, and I'm only a little +chilled." + +"A warm drink!" cried Crabbe, from the depths of his new and hospitable +instincts. "Say the word, and I'll order it. By heaven, +Ringfield,--you look poorly, and I've wanted one myself all day." His +hand was on the bell. + +"No, no! Don't make a fuss over me. I shall be all right after a +while. Besides I never take anything of the kind you mean, I fancy. +Some camphor--if you had that, or a cup of boiling hot tea. I'll go +downstairs and ask for that. Or coffee." + +"Tea! Good Lord! Tea, to a man sickening with pneumonia!" + +"But I'm not--really I'm not. I'm feeling warmer already." + +"I know better. 'A hot Scotch,'" he said. "Oh for some of the +Clairville brandy now, eh? By the way, her brother's dead." + +Ringfield shivered, but not this time on account of the cold. Some +strange sensation always attacked him when Crabbe spoke of Pauline. + +"Yes. I did not hear of it until she returned." + +"She went to see him, then?" + +"Yes." + +"That must have been after I left. Poor girl! Well, was she very +knocked up? Have you seen her?" + +Ringfield shook his head and the guide attributed the action more to +cold than to sympathy. His mind was made up; Ringfield must take +something, must be warmed up and made fit, and whisky was the only +means known to the Englishman, who did not own a "Manual of +Homoeopathy". Whisky it must be. Again his hand went to the bell, and +again Ringfield remonstrated, but his _gauche_ utterances were of no +avail in face of Crabbe's decision of character and natural lording of +it. The boy appeared, the order was dispatched, and as Ringfield +noticed the growing exaltation in the guide's manner, a sort of +sickness stole upon him. Here, thrust into his hand, was the greatest +opportunity yet given to him to preserve a human soul and to save the +woman he loved, but he looked on, dazed, uncomfortable, half guilty. + +"If this works you harm," he said, "it will be through me, through me. +I'd rather not, Crabbe; I'd rather not." + +But the word of the guide prevailed, and in three minutes a couple of +hot strong glasses were on the table. Crabbe for his part was really +curious. Could it be that this man, his visitor, had never tasted +spirituous liquor? Wine, of course, he must have taken, being a +clergyman. This thought immediately attracted him, and with a sense of +its literary value he sought to question Ringfield as to the effect of +the Communion wine upon a teetotal community. By this time there was +no doubt the minister had suffered a severe chill and the temptation +became very strong to try the hot glass that stood in front of him. + +Crabbe jeered. + +"What do you suppose will happen to you if you taste it, even if you +drain it? What can one glass do? Nonsense. I've taken a whole bottle +of Glenlivet in an evening--then you might talk!" + +His hand played with the glasses, and watching him, Ringfield felt all +the awful responsibility of his office. Once before he had shattered a +hateful bottle, once he had lifted up his voice in self-righteous +denunciation of the sin of drink and the black fruit thereof, but now +he appeared helpless, paralyzed. + +At what moment the evil finally entered into him and conquered him does +not signify; horrible visions of Pauline and this man going away +together, laughing and chatting, embracing and caressing, swam before +his jaundiced eyes. To delay, to prevent the marriage had been his +dream for weeks, and now he saw one way to accomplish this wished-for +hindrance to their union. Should Crabbe be made drunk, should he yield +again after so long abstinence from liquor, who could say what the +consequences might prove? A shred only of common compunction animated +him as he said: "I tell you frankly I'm afraid of the stuff. And I'm +afraid for you." + +Yet all this time he was watching the guide's expression. + +Already the steaming fumes were working upon him; the familiar, +comforting, stimulating odour was there, his hand was clasping the +glass, in another moment he would drain it, then what would happen! + +"Afraid! Afraid? Of one glass! Ringfield--you're a fool, a prig, and +a baby. Besides, the spirit is all burnt out by this time, evaporated, +flown thence. Come--I'll set you the example. Drink first and preach +afterwards." + +And with the peculiar gloating eye, the expressively working, watering +mouth that the drunkard sometimes shows, the Englishman led off. It +was a long, hot drink, but he threw his head back and never paused till +he had drained the last drop, and once again tipped the glass towards +his throat. Ringfield, alarmed, fascinated, deeply brooding, watched +the proceeding in silence, his nature so changed that there was no +impulse to seize the offending glass, dash it on the ground or pour the +contents on the floor, watched ardently, hungrily, for the sequel. +Would Crabbe remain as he had been after the enlivening draught, or +would he by rapid and violent stages decline to the low being of former +days? While Ringfield thus watched the guide the latter stared back, +broadly smiling. + +"Still shaking!" he cried; "still 'chilled to the bone' and shivering? +You are such an impossible fellow--you will not give my remedy a +chance. Perhaps whisky doesn't suit you. I know--it was gin you +wanted. 'The gin within the juniper began to make him merry.' Lots of +people don't know that's Tennyson. Eh, Ringfield? Afraid? Afraid of +imperilling your immortal soul? Nuisance--a soul. Great nuisance. +Great mistake. Well--are you or are you not going to drink this other +glass? I can't see good stuff wasted. I'm astonished at you. +I'm--'stonished." + +He leant forward and bent his elbows on the table; the papers fluttered +in all directions, but he had forgotten about them. His gaze--wide, +blue and choleric--was alternately bent on Ringfield and on the tumbler. + +The minister went pale, his heart beat spasmodically and his fingers +curled and tingled. No power, no wish to pray was left in him, no +sense of responsibility; he was too far gone in jealous vindictiveness +to be his own judge or critic, and he stared at the guide, saying: "If +you get drunk it is your own fault. You'll be doing it yourself. I +have nothing to do with it, nothing. I will not touch the stuff, you +shall not make me." + +Yet he did not attempt to remove the glass and Crabbe sniffed at the +tempting fumes. His right hand embraced them, his hair fell over his +forehead, his eyes and mouth worked strangely, and in a twinkling what +the other had foreseen happened. With an unsteady, leering flourish +Crabbe raised the coveted tumbler to his lips and drank it off. + +Appalled and conscience-stricken, Ringfield fell back against the door, +the room being small and contracted, and covered his face with his +hands. In ten minutes the guide was coarsely drunk, but sensible +enough to ring the bell and demand more whisky. Committed to his wrong +course, the minister interfered no longer, and suffered a servant to +deliver the stuff into his hands at the door, on the plea that the +gentleman inside was not very well. Thus things went from bad to +worse, Crabbe noisily reciting passages from English poets and the +Greek anthology, and insisting on reading his lines to Ringfield after +a third "go" of spirits. + +"How does this strike you?" he cried, whipping a narrow piece of +writing-paper out of his pocket; "I've written many an epitaph, but +none that I liked better than this:-- + + "Chaste I was not, neither honourable, only kind; + And lo--the streets with mourners at my death were lined!" + +And he added gravely that it was in the best Greek style. "I've got +another, 'On a Woman Who Talked too Much,' but I can't remember it. +Don't you write poetry? You don't? Oh! I remember now. You're the +parson. Want to convert me, want to reform me, eh, Ringfield? You +write something better than poetry--sermons. Look here--Ringfield--did +you know I was intended for the Church myself at one time? I was. +Honour bright--before I came out to this blasted country--excuse +freedom of speech--before I knew you, and before I met Henry Clairville +and Pauline." + +The name seemed to convey some understanding of his condition with it, +and he stopped a minute in his talk. The other man was still leaning +by the door; it might be expedient to keep people of the house from +seeing Crabbe's condition. + +"Now--don't you say this isn't your fault," continued the guide, +shaking his head wisely. "You ordered the whisky, you know you did. +You were 'chilled to the bone' and you ordered it. And you're a parson +all the same, can't get over that, can't help yourself, can you, +Ringfield? Remember meetin' you many years ago somewhere, there was +whisky too on that occasion, and you c'ngratulated me, you know, on +going to be married. But you were--premature, that's what you were, +Ringfield--premature. Wonder where I met you before! Must have been +in the Old Country; must have been at Oxford together." + +He now raised his head, and drinking off the fourth and last strong +tumblerful of spirit, smiled vacantly in the other's face, and +collapsed upon the table. + +Ringfield, ashamed and bitter, stood and watched this sad scene with +folded arms and tightly drawn mouth. Was it true? Was this his work? +This dishevelled, staring-eyed, sodden, incoherent creature, shrewdly +wise in his cups, had taken the place of the elegant and easy English +gentleman, the educated Oxford man, dabbler in high-class verse and +prospective happy bridegroom, and what woman would care to have his arm +around her now? With the thought came a wave of self-righteous +indignation; he had partially effected what he had hoped to bring about +in some other way, the gradual but sure alienation of Crabbe from +Pauline, and with a half-guilty satisfaction driving out remorse he +descended and found M. Prefontaine, having first locked the door and +put the key in his pocket. Explanations of his friend's seizure were +made, apparently in good faith, and much solicitude expressed. + +"However, I think you had better leave him entirely alone this evening, +and I can look in later," concluded Ringfield, whose serious mien and +clerical garb commended him; "I am familiar with his attacks and I will +also see him in the morning before I leave, in case he requires +anything, although by that time he will very probably have quite +recovered." + +This sounding perfectly frank and natural, M. Prefontaine took no more +thought of the guest in No. 9, and gave Ringfield the room opposite, +No. 8, from which he could listen for his friend's "attacks" and render +assistance if required. + +At half-past ten, therefore, he unlocked Crabbe's door, and found the +guide almost as he had left him, his head on the table and his legs +stretched out underneath, but Ringfield, scanning the room with a +careful eye as he had done earlier in the day, on his arrival, at +length perceived what he had expected and desired to see--a +travelling-flask of wicker and silver-plate half hidden on the dressing +table behind a tall collar-box. Turning the gas low, but not +completely out, he went away quietly, again locking the door behind +him. What Poussette had told him then was true, and it was this, that +before his departure for Montreal the guide had purchased enough spirit +to fill a large flask, and whether shallow subterfuge or not, Crabbe +certainly had a standing temptation at his elbow which he must have +forgotten when Ringfield entered, cold and shivering and plainly in +need of a stimulant. Poussette's theory--that the Englishman had +absented himself in order to enjoy a deliberate "spree" as it is +called, was incorrect. Crabbe had simply brought the stuff with him +from force of habit, the conventional notion of preparing for a +journey, particularly in such a climate. Therefore the burden of his +recent fall certainly must be laid to Ringfield, who had lifted neither +voice nor hand to hinder; for while pursuing an evil course the latter +seemed powerless to cast out the emotions of blinding hate and jealousy +that tore at his vitals and rendered him a changed and miserable +creature. The next morning he visited Crabbe again and found him, as +he had hoped, absolutely sodden and useless; his elasticity and nerve, +his good looks, his air of authority, having all disappeared, and a +wretched physical sickness begun. He knew his plight, but did not +recognize his tempter, did not mention Pauline's name and seemed to +wish to be left alone. Ringfield candidly and sorrowfully made further +explanations to M. Prefontaine, who promised to say nothing of the +matter and to look after Crabbe as soon as he was able. + +"Mlle. Clairville has written to us of the gentleman, and we regret +this should have happened. You will carry her our best regards and +good wishes for her wedding. These Englishmen are sometimes great +drinkers, but they recover quickly." + +Ringfield paid his bill and walked out as he had walked in, with the +same constrained, unhappy expression, and the same cold hand grasping a +florid carpet-bag. He had told M. Prefontaine that he was returning to +St. Ignace, but he had no such intention; he went along Jacques Cartier +Square a few yards, and then disappearing around a corner, found a +quiet back street, where, over antiquated shop-fronts, he saw several +cards of _appartements a louer_ and one with a similar legend in +English. Here he entered and secured a front room, so situated that +its view commanded that side of the square on which stood the Hotel +Champlain. He had made up his mind to remain there until he saw Crabbe +emerge, when, if possible, he would again detain, hinder, or, in some +unthought-out way, keep him from St. Ignace and Miss Clairville. Thus +he passed the hours, patiently waiting at his narrow window in the Rue +St. Dominique for a sight of his unfortunate rival. + +Now M. Alphonse Prefontaine had a friend named Lalonde, a very clever +man and a member of that useful profession which lives upon the lives +and secrets and follies and crimes of others--in fine, a detective, and +having quite recently lost his wife (a cousin of Mme. Prefontaine) he +had given up his house and come to live at the Hotel Champlain. He had +been present when Ringfield first appeared in the rotunda with his +countrified carpet-bag, had heard him ask for his friend, had seen him +again later in the afternoon, and also in the morning, and having +naturally a highly-developed trait of curiosity, had sauntered out when +Ringfield did, and discovered that, instead of returning to the +country, the young man with the clergyman's tie and troubled face was +lodging in the next street. To anyone else, even to the Prefontaines, +this would have signified nothing, but Lalonde was good at his +business, and the discovery at least interested him; he could say +nothing more. He, too, knew Miss Clairville well, and was expecting to +see her on her wedding-day, so that it was quite natural he should +express a desire to meet Crabbe, even if the latter were scarcely in a +condition to receive callers. M. Prefontaine accordingly took him up, +but all they saw was an exceedingly stupid, fuddled, untidy wretch who +was not yet conscious of the great mistake he had made in giving way to +his deplorable appetite, and who did not realize the import of what was +said to him. Lalonde was sufficiently curious to examine the flask and +Crabbe's valise, but he retired satisfied that the guide had not been +tampered with. Drunkenness and that alone had caused the present sad +state of affairs. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +THE TROUSSEAU AGAIN + + "--the bitter language of the heart." + + +The shop over which Ringfield was lodging for the time was an emporium +of Catholic books, pictures and images, one of those peculiarly Lower +Canadian stores in the vicinity of the Rue Notre Dame, existing side by +side with Indian curio shops, and rendering it possible for the +emigrant and tourist to purchase maple sugar, moccasins, and birch bark +canoes at the same time that he invested in purple ribbon bookmarks, +gaily painted cards of the Virgin, and tiny religious valentines with +rosy bleeding hearts, silver arrows and chubby kneeling infants. +Amulets and crucifixes, Keys of Heaven and lives of the Blessed Saints, +cheap vases of ruby and emerald glass, candles and rosaries, would at +another time have afforded Ringfield much matter for speculation, but +the fact was that almost as soon as he had deposited his bag on the +table of the narrow bedroom assigned to him, the cold he had so long +neglected caught him seriously, and for an entire day and a half he +insisted on sitting at his window when he should have been in bed. On +the next day his feverish symptoms increased to such an extent that the +man who owned the room and who was a widower, managing for himself, +sent for a nurse. Tossing on the bed, and frequently rising to look +out of the window, Ringfield fretfully objected, but his landlord was +firm, and sent a message at once to the Hospital of the Incarnation, +the nearest charitable institution and the parent of several +flourishing branches, among which was that at Lalurette where Ringfield +had thought of placing Angeel. It was early on Thursday evening when +the message was sent, and at ten o'clock Archibald Groom, the +shopkeeper, came to say that a person recently arrived from the country +was below, but that she spoke very little English. He was not +answered, and bending over the bed he saw that his lodger was +delirious, eyes glassy and staring and head rolling from side to side, +with high colour and stertorous breathing. + +To call the nurse, who was waiting in the shop, was the work of an +instant; she came quickly and noiselessly up the dark stair and saw at +once a case of brain fever, partly brought on by exposure and neglected +cold, also recognizing in the sick man the well-known minister at St. +Ignace and her husband's _protege_. + +Mme. Poussette, for it was she, possessed more discretion than sense, +and more sense than wit; she looked calmly upon her patient as upon a +stranger and set about her work in silence. + +Meanwhile Edmund Crabbe, on partially recovering from his first fit of +intemperance, sat up, and perceiving the well-filled flask he had +brought with him, seized it, and began afresh upon its contents. He +had left St. Ignace on Monday morning, and it was now Thursday; Henry +Clairville was dead and buried; the funeral obsequies being of a +complex nature, shabby and ornate, dignified and paltry, leisurely and +hurried, while the ceremony was at least well attended, since, as Dr. +Renaud had said, a Seigneur did not die every day. Profuse in the +matter of lappets, crucifixes, and in the number of voluble +country-folk and stout serious-lipped priests, Father Rielle, who had +charge of the proceedings, was compelled to accommodate himself to +circumstances, or fate, or "the Will of God," in the shape of the +Archambaults--who, as Pauline foresaw, had all returned, this time to +claim their own. + +The disappearance of Mme. Poussette occasioned no comment; for two days +after the death of Henry Clairville no one spoke to her or thanked her +for all she had done, and while the funeral was in progress she put her +few things in a box, and counting a small store of money Poussette had +given her from time to time, went with Antoine Archambault to the +station at Bois Clair, and was no more seen at St. Ignace. Of all the +characters in this simple history, none perhaps was so sincerely +deserving as this unfortunate Mme. Poussette, and as she passes from +the stormy little village in behind the gate of the serene but busy +hospital, it is pleasant to contemplate the change there in store for +her. To many women who are plain and unattractive in the ever-varying +hat and gown of fashion, and who, if they try to hold their own, must +sooner or later resort to artificial aids to attain even moderate good +looks, there is yet a refuge, that of some severe and never-changing +style of dress or uniform, which bestows upon them another kind of +beauty. The kitchen dish or utensil has its charm as well as the +sprigged china of the closet; the jug going to the well is as grateful +to the eye as the prismatic beaker upon the table, and, in like manner, +the banded or braided hair, the perfect cleanliness of fresh print or +linen and the straight serviceable lines of skirt and waist often +contribute to make a plain woman fully as attractive as her prettier +sisters. Thus Mme. Poussette, about whom there was never anything +repulsive or vulgar, presented new features to the world in her +exquisitely neat hospital garb; more than this, she liked her work, and +gradually her expression grew less vacant; she left off humming and +whispering to herself, and we leave her thus, contented, respected and +of use, and, therefore, almost happy. + +Indeed, many there are beside Mme. Natalie Poussette who find as life +slips by and the feverish quest of happiness dies within them, that +they become happy almost without knowing it in the pursuit of other +things once despised, such as work, friendship, the need of earning, or +the love of an abstract subject. What a contrast then does this +"afflicted," this "peculiar" one afford to the restless, imaginative, +gifted but unstable Pauline, in whom the quest of happiness had so far +only resulted in entanglement and riot of conflicting emotions! + +As she remained much indoors at this time, awaiting Crabbe's return, +she dwelt much on the past, words rising to utterance that she thought +would never be heard on earth touching the problems of her lonely +childhood, her meeting with Crabbe, her aversion to her brother; also, +the brighter pictures of the future in which she already lived the life +of a London beauty and belle, or crossed to Paris and continued buying +for her trousseau. Miss Cordova, with the superior wisdom of a mother, +let her friend talk and agreed with all she said; her own opinion of +Pauline's choice in men was not in the guide's favour, but she saw it +was too late to interfere. The story of Angeel was now cleared up and, +had Ringfield remained in the village, he would have learnt as well as +the rest of the unexpected parentage of that poor child, and of the +turn in the affairs of the country-side which brought the Archambaults +on top. However wasted and however dilapidated, the Clairville domain +and Manor House was one of the oldest in the province, and it began to +be rumoured that a considerable fortune existed in Henry's collection +of books and memoirs, offers for which were already reaching the +helpless widow and mother of Angeel. + +Occupied with her own dreams, Miss Clairville took little notice of her +home under a new regime, and day by day she watched instead for the +return of her lover, bringing definite arrangements for the marriage. +There seemed at least a diminution other natural active outlook on life +as a whole, and if she feared from Crabbe's rather dilatory methods +that their union was in danger from too long delay, she did not say so, +even to her confidante. The latter was bent upon carrying through her +project with regard to Maisie and Jack, but this could not be effected +until the spring, and thus, without the stimulus of the Englishman's +presence, and with the remembrance of death and agitation so recently +in their midst, both women were quieter than usual. + +As for Ringfield, no one missed him very acutely until Saturday +morning, when, upon the receipt of a letter from Mme. Prefontaine, +"Poussette's" was thrown into considerable excitement. Pauline, who +could rarely keep anything to herself, read her letter aloud and +immediately jumped up in terror. + +"Why did not some one tell me they were together; together, at the +Hotel Champlain? I tell you--something will happen!" + +"To which of them?" asked Miss Cordova satirically. In spite of a good +deal of nonsense in her composition, there was an under-stratum of +shrewd wisdom, inherited, no doubt, from her New England mother, and +her admiration for her more brilliant friend did not blind her to +certain irregularities of disposition and many weak points in Pauline's +character, inseparable from her abnormal bringing up. "I wouldn't +excite myself so much if I were you," continued the other. "I've +learnt not to worry about men harming other men; it's when they come to +harming women I think it's time to worry about them. Look at me--I +don't know for certain whether Ned Stanbury's alive or not; I know +Schenk's alive, although he may not last long, but I never worry about +their meeting. But if Schenk came here to disturb me, or went to my +mother's to get the children from her, then I might take on." + +"But, my dear, everything's different in my case!" exclaimed Miss +Clairville, fretfully pacing up and down the common room. + +A village dressmaker, one of the numerous Tremblays, had, in a great +hurry, made her a black dress; her face showed sallow against it now, +and even her hands, always conspicuously well-kept and white, looked +yellow and old as they hung down at the side of her tall, straight +figure, or clasped and unclasped restlessly behind her. A key to much +of her present unhappy mood lay in her last exclamation; family pride, +another kind of pride in her personal knowledge of the world, in her +consciousness of gifts and physical attractions, the feeling that she +was in every way Miss Cordova's superior, all this rendered Pauline's +affairs, in her own eyes, of vastly greater importance and intrinsic +excellence and interest than those of her companion. A +Clairville--there could be no doubt of this--was a lady, a gentlewoman, +to use an incorruptible phrase, whereas, no matter how unsmirched the +simple annals of Sadie Cordova, the small farm, the still smaller shop +were behind the narrow beginnings of the painstaking and pious Yankee +shoemaker who retired in middle life to the country and died there. +Pauline's father and brother, both weakly degenerates, could +nevertheless boast of a lineage not inconsiderable for older lands, of +possessions identified with the same, such as portraits and books and +furniture, of connexions through marriage with the law and the militia, +and, above all, of having lived on their land for very many years +without doing anything, most distinguished trait of all. Hence, +Pauline's remark; how could Miss Cordova fully understand or properly +sympathize with the altered conditions by which the daughter of the +manor was now second in importance to one of a family of menials, the +flighty, giggling, half-witted Artemise-Palmyre, whose marriage to +Henry Clairville was an accepted fact. + +"You cannot understand," Pauline had said for the tenth or eleventh +time, and Miss Cordova listened, outwardly smiling and not immediately +replying. + +"Do you suppose your brother's marriage was legal and binding?" she +said after a while, and Pauline stopped in her walk. The idea was not +altogether new. + +"I fancy it must have been," she managed to say carelessly. "Dr. +Renaud and his Reverence know all about it, and even if it were not, +where is the money to enable me to--how do you say--contest it?" + +"Wouldn't Mr. Poussette lend it to you?" + +"Oh, what an idea! Do you think I would take it from him, I, a +Clairville?" + +She had nearly used the once-despised prefix and called herself a De +Clairville, for since Henry's death her intolerant view of his darling +project had strangely altered; so many things were slipping from her +grasp that she clutched at anything which promised well for the future. + +"Well, I'm sure you deserve money, Pauline, from one quarter or +another; you've worked hard enough for it, I know, and now I do hope +your Mr. Hawtree will turn up soon and be all right, and that you'll be +happily married to him and get away for a time from all these troubles. +I want you should know, Pauline, that I think it was noble of you to +work so hard to raise that money to keep little Angeel; yes, I call it +noble, and I'm proud of you and sorry I ever thought----" + +She paused and Pauline took up the unfinished phrase. + +"Sorry you ever thought she was mine? I forgive you, my dear, but +about my nobility, make no mistake. What I did I did, but I did it all +coldly, passively, with nothing but hatred and loathing in my heart, +with nothing but pride and selfishness setting me on to do it. I know +this was wrong, but I could not get into any other frame of mind; I +could never overcome my horror and repulsion of the whole matter. And +now--it is just as bad--worse. If I thought I should have to live with +her, with them, I could not stand it, Sara, I could not, I could not! +Why must I be tried so, why must I suffer so? Oh, it is because I have +a bad heart, a bad nature! Yes, yes, that must be it! I have a bad +nature, Sara, a bad, bad nature!" + +"No, no, Pauline!" said her friend soothingly, and the matter dropped. + +Later they were sitting, towards evening, sewing at some item of the +impalpable trousseau, Pauline alternating her spasmodic needle with +reading over Mme. Prefontaine's letter and jumping up to listen down +the stair. + +"What do you expect's happened, anyhow?" cried Miss Cordova at last, in +exasperation. "Mr. Ringfield's a clergyman! he's a perfectly moral +man, and I guess that means something. What are you afraid of? Now if +it was me and Schenk or Stanbury----" + +Pauline's attitude and expression were alike tragic. In her cheap +black dress her look of apprehensive despair was full of mournful +intensity as she stood with one hand lifted and her expressive eyes +fixed on shapes imaginary. Her friend's philosophy was equal to the +occasion. + +"Seems to me if you think so much about things that _might_ happen but +you ain't sure they _have_ happened, you kind of _make_ 'em happen. +Sit down and be calm, for goodness sake, Pauline!" + +"I can't, I can't! Oh, what's that now?" + +With her hands over her heart she bounded to the top of the narrow +stair. + +"Reminds me of myself the other day when I thought Schenk was after me. +Do you hear anything, Pauline--you look so wild?" + +"Yes, yes! Some one has arrived. _Grand Dieu_--which of them? +Sara--go and see!" + +Miss Cordova rose and drew her friend back within the room. + +"Maybe it's neither; only some one for M. Poussette." + +"No, no, it is one of them and for me. I hear my name." + +She sank upon a chair as footsteps were heard slowly, heavily, and +somewhat unsteadily ascending the stair. The arrival was Edmund +Crabbe, with the lurch of recent dissipation in his gait and his blue +eyes still inflamed and bleared. + +With a half-furtive, half-defiant air he advanced to Pauline, but +before he could utter a word, either of justification or apology, she +sprang at him with impetuous gestures and deeply frowning brows. To +see her thus, in the common little room at Poussette's, clad in the +plain garb of cheap mourning, yet with all the instinctive fire and +grandeur of the emotional artist, was to recall her as many could, +declaiming on the narrow stage of the Theatre of Novelties. + + Je suis Romaine, helas! puisque Horace est Romain. + J'ai recevu son titre en recevant sa main, + +or again, in the diaphanous rose-garlanded skirts of Marguerite +Gautier, laying bare the secrets of her heart to her adoring lover. +Oblivious of Miss Cordova, Pauline rushed at her own lover but did not +embrace him. + +"Oh, where is he?" she cried. "What have you done to him?--or with +him? I insist upon the truth; I must know, I must know all. He +followed you!" + +"He did, he did. He followed me, as you say, madam, but what of that?" +Crabbe stood, greatly astonished and rather mortified. In the presence +of Miss Cordova, for Pauline to display such concern for the other man +was, to say the least, annoying. To be dignified in his resentment was +to invite ridicule, for the drink still showed in his walk, but he +managed to frown and in other ways show honest astonishment and wrath. +"A nice welcome!" he went on, with difficulty repressing a certain +thickness of utterance and steadying himself as well as he was able, +the chairs being both occupied. "If you mean the parson, if these airs +and sighs, these sulks and tender concerns are for him--you may spare +yourself. He is all right. Though I beg pardon--you never sulk, +Pauline, whatever you do. I'll swear to that, lady dear. 'Tis good +and hot and strong while it lasts, and now I'm back, give it me, for I +know I deserve it. I've been at it again, Pauline. Drink, I mean, my +girl." Tears stood in his eyes. + +"I understand. You need explain no further. But what do you mean +about Mr. Ringfield--how is he all right? Where is he? I was afraid, +afraid of something happening to one of you. Sara laughs, but she +doesn't know how I feel." + +"And never will!" said Crabbe, giving Pauline's shoulder a clumsy, +caressing pat; "Miss Cordova has her points, but she is not Us, she is +not We of the grand emotional parts! Just a bundle of emotions, nerves +and impulses--that's all you are, madam!" + +His affection, breaking through the still thick speech and weakened +movements, was irresistible; Pauline sighed and smiled, shook off her +tremors and allowed herself to descend with him to the dining-room, +where over supper she listened to the recital of his adventure in +Montreal. + +"It was the cold then, that made you, that drove you to it again!" she +said thoughtfully. + +"Cold, and--and--loneliness. I was lonely, Pauline, and by Heaven--if +you'll really take me, lady dear, the sooner we're married the better. +If your parson were in the house at this moment I should order him to +perform the ceremony." + +"Oh--that would not suit me! Mr. Ringfield--of course, that could not +be. We must leave as soon as possible, that is all, and as this is the +nineteenth, and we have arranged for the twenty-fourth, that is only +four days to wait." + +"Four days! I'll keep straight, I promise you, Pauline." + +"And was he--was Mr. Ringfield with you much at the Hotel Champlain? +What did he do there? Why did he go?" + +Crabbe, to tell the truth, was asking that same question of his brain, +as he made heroic endeavours to recollect the details of his last +debauch. He paused, and, with a trick characteristic of him, pushed +away his plate and cup, although he had only begun his meal. + +"That's what I'd like to know myself, Pauline. I was sitting at the +table, smoking, and reading over some of my stuff--poor stuff it seems +to me at times; however let that pass--when a knock came to the door, +and I opened to our clerical friend! That's all I can remember." + +"How did he look? How long did he stay? Do try and recollect. Try +and answer." + +Crabbe did try, but without avail. + +"That's all I know, my dear girl. I must have been pretty bad." + +"You must, indeed," said Miss Clairville, rising. A little of the +hauteur Ringfield associated with her showed in her bearing, and as the +guide drew his food again towards him, she eyed him almost with +disfavour. "Then you do not know where he is, or what he went for, or +how long he stayed." + +"I do not, lady dear--I do not." + +Pauline was deeply mystified, and perhaps her vanity was also touched; +the mental spectacle of the two men fighting each other for possession +of her had faded and a certain picturesqueness had gone from life. +However, her marriage remained; she had four days, but only four, to +make ready in anticipation of the great event which was to remove her +at once and for ever from St. Ignace and Clairville, and in the light +of which even Crabbe's backsliding seemed a trivial matter. She +therefore returned to Sadie Cordova with restored equanimity, and +Ringfield--his avowal and his present whereabouts and condition yielded +to those prenuptial dreams and imaginings which pursued even so +practised a coquette and talented woman of the world as the once +brilliant Camille and Duchess of Gerolstein. Nevertheless, agitation +was in the air. Poussette went to and fro in much and very voluble +distress. The night closed in and brought no letter, no telegram from +Ringfield; how then--who, who would conduct the service? It was the +week of Christmas and a few more were already in the village, members +of families from afar and two or three visitors. + +The feast of Noel is full of importance to all of the Romish faith, and +Poussette knew of great things in preparation for the stone church on +the hill of St. Jean Baptiste in the way of candles, extra music and a +kind of Passion-play in miniature representing the manger, with cows +and horses, wagons and lanterns, the Mother and Child, all complete. +Should Ringfield not return----even as he spoke the wooden clock in the +kitchen pointed to ten; the last train had passed through Bois Clair +and Poussette abandoned all hope, while in order to prove his intense +and abject depression of mind, he broke his promise to the minister and +helped himself to some whisky. + +Thus, the absence of his mentor worked this unfortunate relapse, and +should Crabbe find out, there looked to be an old-time celebration at +Poussette's with Pauline and Pauline's rights entirely forgotten. As +it was, Miss Cordova caught the culprit before he was quite lost, and +mounting guard over the bar, entered upon those duties which, once +shouldered, remained hers for a considerable length of time. + +"Division of labour," she said smartly, and Poussette gave a foolish +smile. "You take the kitchen and I'll take the bar. Then when Maisie +and Jack arrive I can look after 'em. As like as not, Maisie'll be +hanging round for a drop of lager--what she could get, that is, out of +the glasses--I've seen her! And don't you fuss about Sunday, Mr. +Poussette! We'll get on just as well as if we had a church to go to +and a sermon to listen to. Guess you won't be wanting to see yourself +taking around the plate to-morrow, anyway." + +Poussette, lying crumpled up in a reclining chair, watched his new +friend with dawning reason and admiration. + +"Fonny things happens," said he, wagging his head, "I'll go to sleep +now and wake up--just in time--you'll see--to go to church, help Mr. +Ringfield take roun' the money--oh--I'll show you, I'll show you, Miss +Cordova." + +"You'll show me, will you?" said the barkeeper, absently. "What'll you +do if he don't come at all? He can't come now, and you know it." + +"I tell you--fonny things happens! I'll preach myself, read from the +Bible, sure." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +THE GLISSADE + + "The calm oblivious tendencies of nature." + + +Probably the most beautiful spectacle ever afforded by the natural +world is that of a complete and far-reaching ice-storm, locally known +as a glissade, transcending in delicate aerial fantasy the swiftly +changing faint green panorama of early spring or the amber hazes of +opulent autumn. A true and perfect glissade is comparatively rare; +like a fine display of the auroral arches, another wonder in the +visible universe, or the vast expanding and nobly symbolical rainbow, +it does not often occur, nor when it does, is it always a spectacle of +permanence as well as beauty. The conditions under which it develops +may frequently exist in the upper atmosphere, but to ensure the magical +and lovely effects which so singularly transform the plainest +landscape, these conditions must remain unchanged for a certain length +of time in order that the work of crystallization may be thoroughly +carried out. The movements and fluctuating currents of the air do not +often long maintain this tranquil and stationary poise, and +consequently we may sometimes witness attempts on the part of Nature to +create these distinctive and wondrous results which are quickly doomed +to thaw and oblivion. In the next place it follows that what we see so +seldom must greatly impress us because of its unfamiliarity and from +the fact that its evanescence renders its loveliness more precious; the +element of surprise increases our enjoyment, and all the more since the +materials in use are the oldest and most familiar in the world. Then, +to crown the work, there is not at any other season of the year or +during any variation of a winter climate, anything more soothing, +entrancing, more grateful and refreshing than the texture of the air +itself, the feeling of the air during the period of suspended +atmospheric action. It is not joyous, but it is better than joy. +There is nothing violent, nothing extreme; there is no dust, no flurry, +no glare. It is not cold but only pleasantly, smoothly cool, and the +final impression is one of temporary transportation to some calm +celestial region of infinite peace and purity. + +Standing at the left of Poussette's church on the brink of the Fall, +the eye, on the Monday following Crabbe's ignominious return, would +have rested lovingly upon such a scene of enchantment. The great +triple ledges of water which formed the cascade were only partially +frozen, and the spray, still dashing in parts against the rocks and +bare branches standing around them, seemed to congeal in mid-air, while +the tall pines spreading on either hand were bending from their normal +by weight of icy trappings. So much for the general effect--of a soft +yet crystalline whiteness covering and outlining every object--but in +detail, what a marvel of delicate tracery, what a miracle of intricate +interlacing of frosted boughs! Every twig was encased in a transparent +cylinder of flashing ice, every hillock crusted over with freshly +fallen snow; the evergreens, in shape like giant algae, drooped wide +fans to the earth, painted, spangled, and embroidered with glittering +encrustations; the wires across the river from Bois Clair to Montmagny +were harps of shining silver strings, the rough fences turned to +graceful arabesques, the houses changed to domes and turrets and +battlements of marble. + +The sun was veiled as yet, but occasionally from behind the +greyish-white of a cloudless spreading sky a pale yellow gleam stole +forth, creating fires of prismatic rose and violet in each glassy twig +and leaf. At these times, too, there woke and stirred a faint, faint +wind, almost a warm wind, and then, here and there, a little cushion or +mat or flag of snow would fall, or an icy stem break off. The silence +was absolute, animal life appeared suspended, the squirrels no longer +ran chattering in quest of food, as on mild days they will near +habitations, no bird was seen or heard. This state of coma or trance +held all created things, and as with most Canadian scenery, small +chance was there for sentiment; the shepherd of the Lake country or the +mountaineer of Switzerland were not represented by any picturesque +figure, although small spirals of smoke floated up from the straggling +settlements, and a habitant wife sometimes looked out from a door or a +window, her face dark and shrivelled for the most part, and with clumsy +woollen wraps thrown around head and shoulders. + +The absence of human interest and the silence intensified the serene +splendours of the forest and great Fall on such a day as this, when +growth and change had reached a standstill and when the cool brooding +of the air recalled the moments before dawn or the remote and unnatural +quiescence that marks an eclipse. To walk near the forest would mean +to encounter huge mounds of snow hiding the levelled logs and boulders, +stalactites of ponderous icicles depending from the tree trunks where +the openings faced the light and the sun; farther in, and once safely +past these glacial outposts, scarcely any signs of storm appeared; last +year's leaves, still matted together underfoot, were tangled with the +green vine of the creeping linnaea and a rare root of the lustrous +winter-green. Here, beneath the thick canopy of branches not all +devoid of their foliage since many larches and pines were to be found +there, was another climate; coming from that bland whiteness which was +not cold, these dark arcades of forest struck chills to the feet and +face; damp odours rose from rotting mould and wood not protected by a +snowy covering, and broad sallow fungi, wide enough to sit upon, looked +of an unearthly tint in the drear half-light. + +Naturally the sight of these glittering plains and frosted forests, +unusual even in that land of snow and ice, called for sightseers, and +at Poussette's every one had been up early to gaze on the outside +world, among whom were Miss Clairville and Crabbe, the latter feeling +his recent backsliding very keenly. Pauline had now finally packed her +little trousseau and other belongings, and arrangements were being made +to enable Poussette to leave his business and Miss Cordova her sewing; +the party of four were to descend on the Hotel Champlain on Wednesday, +the wedding would take place on Thursday, the married couple sailing at +once for Liverpool. + +Leaning on her lover's arm, Pauline therefore easily found warmth and +words with which to admire the landscape spread before her, for was she +not soon to leave it, exchanging these frigid and glacial glories for +life in a European capital, and, once for all, abandoning all ideas of +a career and relegating everything at St. Ignace and Clairville to a +place in her memory? Beautiful, then, she found it, and gaily +proposing a walk along the decorated road, suddenly remembered Angeel +and resolved to visit her and say good-bye. Crabbe demurred. + +"Why should you?" he said, with the nettled intolerance of a being +angry with himself, and prone to visit his ill-temper on others. + +"But I must, Edmund! I meant to before. If Henry had not died, or if +we had never found out about the other matter, I would have gone!" + +"I see no reason. The brat has its mother, hasn't it?" + +"Oh, don't be so hard! Yes, yes, of course, but she might like to +remember me, wish to see me once again,--it may be for the last time." + +"Gad--I think it will. I'm not worth much, 'pon my soul, but I can +take you away and save you from all this annoyance. I hate every hour +of delay, I dislike this loafing about here now. I wish--by Heaven! I +were leaving Poussette's this minute for good and all." + +His eye roved discontentedly over the forest and road, and then came +back wistfully to Pauline. It was evident that his affection was of a +sincere and unselfish order, and that with her to shield and serve and +with her lively handsome personality as his constant companion, he +might yet recover lost ground and be the man he might have been. + +"I keep telling you that we have not so long to wait," she said +brightly, as she went indoors to get ready for the walk, and Crabbe, +turning his gaze in the direction of the bridge, became interested in +the aspect of the Fall, still thundering down in part over those mighty +ledges, except where the ice held and created slippery glaciers at +whose feet ran the cold brown river for a few hundred yards till it was +again met by fields of shining ice. Two objects caught his eye, one, +the golden cross on the church over at Montmagny, the only one of its +kind in the valley and much admired, the other, a curious spot of +reddish colour at the far end of the bridge. The cross he soon tired +of, but the bit of red aroused his curiosity; it seemed almost square, +like a large book or package, and was apparently propped up against the +stonework that supported the bridge. What it was, he did not trouble +to conjecture, and as Miss Clairville came out with several parcels +which he took from her, he forgot the circumstance as he turned and +walked a few steps with her. Thus, her quicker brain was not directed +to an explanation of the blot of red; had she seen it, and solved it, +which was highly probable, the events of the day might have been vastly +different. + +"What are these things?" said Crabbe, fingering the parcels with a +fretful note in his voice. + +"Just some little presents, little trifles for her, Angeel. Nothing I +cannot spare, Edmund. She belongs to me, after all. I shall never see +her again, and I must not do less for her than for Maisie and Jack. +You are coming with me? It is not worth while. I prefer to go alone, +_mon ami_." + +"Why not? A walk with you may keep me out of mischief, although with +your theatrical friend mounting guard over Poussette I think I can +promise you abstinence for the next few days." + +Miss Clairville stopped in her brisk walk and searched his worn face. +"You are not well," she said suddenly, "you are not looking well." + +He raised his arms, then dropped them with a kind of whimsical +desperation. "How can I be well, or look well? My pride has suffered +as well as my health. I'm ill, ashamed, and sorry. What'll we do, +Pauline, if I can't keep sober?" + +He had often said this to her, but never with such depth of sorrowful +meaning as now. + +"What shall we do, lady dear?" he repeated in a helpless, fretful +murmur. "What shall we do?" + +Her figure stiffened, she was again the tragic muse, the woman of the +world with experience and authority behind her, and, woman-like, as he +weakened, she grew stronger. + +"You are not likely to," she cried with a fine encouraging gesture. +"It is possible, I admit, but not probable. For you, Edmund, as well +as for me, it is new places, new images, for the snows of this forlorn, +this desolate, cold Canada; the boulevards of Paris, for the hermit's +cell in the black funereal forest.--There goes your friend Martin now, +_voila_! _B'jour_, Martin." + +"_B'jour_, mademoiselle!" + +"Those apartments you spoke of in London, in German Street. Tell +me--is that some colony where musicians, perhaps, gather, or the +long-haired art students I have heard so much about?" + +Crabbe stared. + +"Students! Colony! Jermyn Street? Oh--I see--_German_ Street--I see, +I understand." + +He laughed, but not quite freely--spontaneously. Indeed, so much did +he feel some unaccustomed stress, he did not stop to set her right. +What did her ignorance of a certain London locality matter? what did +anything matter just now but the one leading uppermost thought--let +nothing prevent our leaving this place together and leaving it soon, no +failure of mine, no caprice of hers, no interference of another? New +resolution showed in his features; he dropped her hand which he had +been holding and turned back towards Poussette's. + +"You are right, as usual," he said soberly. "There's no need for me to +go with you. I'll turn home-along as they used to say in Devonshire, +and try to do a little writing while I can, for after to-morrow I fear +it will not be easy. So good-bye to you, lady dear, good-bye for an +hour or two, good-bye!" + +A little chilled by standing, in spite of that soft wind, Pauline ran +lightly along towards Lac Calvaire, conscious always of her fine +appearance and humming operatic snatches as she ran, bent upon an +errand, which if not precisely one of mercy was yet one prompted by +good-will and a belated sisterliness. The glowing prospects ahead +opened her heart, not by nature a hard one, and happy in the character +of _grande dame_ and patron of the afflicted she went forth briskly on +her long walk at first. She reflected that her thirtieth birthday was +past, but that before a year had elapsed she would be firmly planted +abroad enjoying plenty of money, change of scene, and variety of +occupation, and even should Crabbe relapse, she saw herself rejuvenated +and strong in hope, capable of studying fresh parts beneath a new and +stimulating sky. Yet under these comforting reflections there lurked +an uneasy fear; the Clairville streak in her made her suspicious of her +present happiness, and as she perceived the well-known reddish gables +of her home, through the surrounding pines and snow, a qualm of unrest +shot through her. It was only a week since she had driven away with +Dr. Renaud, and here she was, again drawn by irresistible force towards +the detested Manor House of her fathers, now completely in the hands of +the Archambaults, with the giggling, despised Artemise and the +afflicted Angeel seated in possession, and this unrest, this fear, was +intimately concerned with the future and the fate of Ringfield. + +She said to herself as if speaking to Miss Cordova:-- + +"You have not felt the force of that strong character pushing against +your own, nor the terrible grip of that hand-pressure, nor the +insistence of those caresses which hurt as well as delighted, so +different from the lazy, careless little appropriations of my present +lover,--pats and kisses he might give to a child." + +Ringfield's arms had drawn her to him till she could have cried out +with fear, his eyes had shudderingly gazed into hers as if determined +to wrest any secret she possessed, his lips had pained her with the +fierce anger and despair of those two long kisses he had pressed upon +her own--how could she forget or belittle such wooing as that, so +different from Crabbe's leisurely, complacent courting! She neither +forgot nor underrated, but she had deliberately and cruelly left one +for the other, and deep in her heart she knew that something sinister, +something shocking and desperate, might yet befall, and what she feared +to hear was of Ringfield's suicide, for she fancied him capable of this +final act of self-pity and despair. + +By the time she reached Clairville the sun was again shining and the +beauty of the glissade beginning to wane. Dark-haired Archambaults +flitted about behind dingy windows--and, wondrous sight on a +mid-December day--the white peacock, tempted by the calm air, was +taking a walk in the wintry garden. Pauline summoned up her courage to +enter the house and was rewarded by the hysterical delight of Angeel, +brought up to admire and adore this haughty relation, who was soon +dispensing her small bounties in order to make the visit as short as +possible. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +THE CARPET-BAG + + "... this solitude + That seems by nature framed to be the seat + And very bosom of pure innocence." + + +The squarish spot of scarlet observed by Crabbe at the farther end of +the bridge was the unaesthetic carpet-bag brought by Ringfield with him +from the West; a field of glaring Turkey red, in design depicting a +kind of colossal sunflower with a green heart instead of a black one. +So contemptuous had always been the attitude of the guide towards his +clerical rival that he had quite forgotten this bag although it was so +conspicuous; such bags, moreover, were quite common at the time, and +these facts rendered him unsuspicious. Therefore, as he neared the +fall and looked along the bridge and still observed that flaming spot +of vivid colour, it was natural that, in place of going to his work as +he had told Miss Clairville he intended to do, he should turn off in +the opposite direction and leisurely walk forth to examine the +phenomenon. + +The bridge was knee-deep in unbroken snow, for no vehicle had crossed +since the late storm, and there had been no service at Poussette's +church. Crabbe walked on, not without some difficulty, lifting his +feet higher and higher as he neared the centre of the structure. +Underneath roared and tumbled the savage fall, although just above the +bridge on his right hand the river was partly frozen, and large cakes +of ice, loosened by the milder weather, were going over the first of +the brown ledges with a rapid, rocking plunge. Each side of the bridge +was a network of icy spars, dazzling in the sunshine, now becoming much +brighter, and Crabbe, turning to look on the wonderful scene around and +beneath him, had forgotten his ultimate goal--the alluring +carpet-bag--when a singular thing occurred. His right foot, as he put +it down through the snow went through the snow and went beyond it; he +felt the unexpected depth before he realized what had happened, that +there was at this point a hole in the planks forming the footway and +that probably from the weight of the snow and ice an old and rotting +board had suddenly given way and dropped out. His leg had gone +entirely through, and in the fright and concern of the moment he +fancied the hole wearing larger and the rest of his body following, but +this was not the case. He was in some peril, it was true, but the +opening was not so large as he thought, the chief danger arising from +the fact that in his struggles to pull himself up again he might bring +about further loosening of the boards. If he had been watched by any +one at Poussette's his relief was at hand, but he feared that at this +time of day no one might be looking out, and this was the case. +Besides, the bridge lay, not directly in front of the village and the +hotel, but rather to one side; a large grove of pine-trees intercepted +the view, and unless he could speedily succour himself there was slight +prospect of help from outside. Fortunately it was extremely mild. + +He hesitated to call, because, as his nervousness subsided, he disliked +to cut a poor figure, but at this point in his dilemma what he had +feared actually happened; as he brought his leg and almost half of his +body up through the hole another piece of planking came away and he was +left clasping the edge of rotten wood in a state of collapse hardly to +be described, his eyes alternately gazing at the sunny, unfeeling skies +above and the gaping cavern immediately beneath. He was swaying now in +mid-air and he found his voice and called repeatedly, but it was not +likely that amid the surrounding tumult of angry waters his voice would +be heard. With a great effort he pulled himself up, praying that the +board might hold; he got on to one knee, then on to both, he swung out +until he gripped the icy railings, and then with another wrench, he was +free of the ugly hole and safe--safe after all and none the worse +except in nervous tremors and a slight strain of the back for what +must, however, remain in his memory as a thrilling and most alarming +experience. Fear of Death for an instant had gripped him, and he saw +himself, as do the drowning, engulfed in the rushing icy waters and +shot down to a violent fate with Pauline's wild voice in his ears and +Pauline's pale face before his eyes. Yet, the peril over, he breathed +freely again, and carefully holding on by the rail all along the path +lest some other treacherous pitfall should lurk beneath the snow, +reached the end of the bridge in safety. + +Then he saw the carpet-bag and remembered it, and in that instant a +pang of horrid doubt and fear passed through him and he looked around +for Ringfield. Escape from death gave him additional courage and +sharpened his wits; his brain cleared now and did him good service, he +felt himself a man, able to resist and proud to endure, and he hoped to +meet the parson and demand explanations from him, for he could scarcely +be blamed for divining some connexion between the deadly gap in the +bridge and the carefully planted decoy--the carpet-bag. Yet in this +induction he was wrong. The hole under the snow had not been known to +Ringfield and the bag had been left by him in a certain position of +safety while he was inside the little church--nothing more. Even as +Crabbe was standing with growing wrath and gathering resolution in his +expression and demeanour Ringfield walked out and confronted him. + +Hatred, nothing less, looked forth from his lowering brows and bitter +mouth, and he was met by answering hate, wedded to cruel scorn, in the +guide. The latter spoke first. + +"Do you know what has nearly happened?" he cried with a fine tempest of +wrath kindling in his usually contemptuous manner. "I could have you +arrested, more than that, my good sir, Mr. Methodist +Parson!--convicted, perhaps worse, for the trap you led me into! You +and your bag--confound you!" + +Ringfield, who could hardly look more miserable on this accusation than +he did already from illness and other causes, made some dumb motion +with his hands and started as he perceived the traces of struggle about +the other. + +"My bag? The carpet-bag? What has that to do with you, with us? What +are you talking of? What trap? I know nothing of any trap." + +"Do you know nothing of a man caught there in the middle of the bridge +where the footway has fallen out--do you know nothing of that man +struggling to lift himself up from that cursed hole and crying for +help? You know nothing, do you?" + +Ringfield's surprise was genuine, as Crabbe was beginning to see. + +"Certainly I know nothing, have heard nothing. I have been in the +church some time, an hour I should think. A hole----" + +Then he remembered. + +"The dog!" he cried. "The little dead dog! Now I understand. He must +have fallen through. I wondered at the time how he got out there under +the bridge on top of those rolling logs that carried him over the fall. +Once there, it was impossible to save him. I remember his eyes." + +"What are you talking about now?" said the other angrily. "I'll swear +you knew something of that hole and meant to see me go down through it." + +Ringfield smiled with that slow, wry smile of his. + +"I knew nothing of the hole. But I am not so sure that I would be +sorry if I saw you go down through it this moment, so long as it was +not my direct work. You and I can never be friends. You and I cannot +expect tolerance of each other. We are enemies, we must always be +enemies, to the death--to the death!" + +Crabbe had, as usual, the upper hand in ease and coolness, and being +now quite restored in physical courage he began to note the signs of +illness and misery in the other's face. He was almost sorry for him +and said so. + +"I'm sorry for all this, Ringfield, I really am. It's some +misunderstanding, I suppose. I can't blame you for admiring Pauline. +I don't blame you for it. You're a man, despite your calling, same as +I am. And I have liked you better since you have shown me your rough +side.--By Heaven, I have, Ringfield! Things have turned out in an +unexpected way with me, and you have suffered on account, and if not in +silence, as we might look for from you, why, it only proves you a man +like the rest of us! You'll get over it, you know. She's to leave +here for good with me the day after to-morrow; everything's settled and +it's much the best thing that could happen for both of us. I wish you +would be reasonable and understand this and make her going away easier." + +This rambling speech was received at first in silence, then Ringfield +spoke, his slow utterances affording a contrast to the half-jocular, +half-querulous words of the ex-guide. + +"That word reasonable! Be reasonable! You--you ask me to be +reasonable! As if I were at fault, as if I were doing her the injury! +God knows I have my own battle to fight, my own self to overcome, but +that is beside the question. Do you see nothing unreasonable in your +own relation to--to Miss Clairville? When I came here--and God knows +I'm sorry at times I ever came or stayed--I met Miss Clairville. I +talked to her and she to me. I learned her mind, or thought I did. I +fathomed her heart, or she allowed me to think so, and thus I became +acquainted with her story, the story that is concerned with her young +life and with you. I was deeply affected, deeply moved, deeply +interested--how could it be otherwise! And then to my eternal sorrow, +as I fear, I grew to love her. She--she--returned it." + +Crabbe made some indistinct remark, but Ringfield went on without +caring to ask what it was. + +"I tell you--she returned my affection and gave me proof of it. All +that, whatever it was between us, is very sacred and I am not going to +talk about it. Then you know what happened; you would not leave her +alone, you followed and I believe annoyed and pestered her, using the +power you have over her for her destruction and despair." + +"The whole thing is monstrous," cried the other hotly. "You have cast +your damned ugly, black shadow over this place too long as it is! Miss +Clairville is no child; she knows, has always known, her own mind, and +I do not grudge her a slight flirtation or two with any one she +fancies; it is her way, a safe outlet for her strong yet variable +temperament. You take things too seriously, that's all." + +And the guide, slapping and shaking the snow from his clothing and +adjusting his cap, walked down from the bridge to one side and sat upon +a rock in sheer fatigue. It was the identical rock from which +Poussette had been pulled back by Ringfield on that April day when the +affairs of the parish had been discussed, and was no safer now than at +that time, in fact, footing was precarious everywhere around the fall, +for the same glassy covering, slowly melting and slippery, had spread +to all objects in sight. + +Ringfield, too, turned and stood a few yards behind the guide and again +he kept that peculiar silence. + +"Now consider," said Crabbe quietly, looking in his pocket for matches +and holding his pipe comfortably in his hand. "I'm perfectly ready to +sympathize with you. I know when you first saw me you cannot have been +very pleasantly impressed, and all that, but that's all or nearly all +over, and I'm going to try and turn over a new leaf, Ringfield. No +more Nature for me, nor for her; we are to flee these dismal wilds and +try a brighter clime,--a brighter clime! You must be generous and +confess that I can do more for her than you can. It will be a new +lease of life for us both, but candidly, Ringfield--lazy dog and worse +that I have been--I think more of what it will mean for her than for +myself." + +"If you consider her happiness and her--her good name so much," said +Ringfield, trembling and white, "why did you lie to me about your +relations with her?" + +"When did I lie to you?" + +"You cannot have forgotten. That day in the shack, the first day I met +you." + +"That is easily explained." Crabbe continued to look at and think of +his pipe, oblivious of the white countenance behind him. "I spoke +after a fashion. The thing--I mean our relations--amounted virtually +to a marriage. The difference was in your thought--in your mind. You +pictured a ceremony, a religious rite, whereas I intended to convey the +idea of a state, a mutual feeling----" + +"You allowed me to think of a ceremony, you encouraged me to think of +it." + +"Nothing of the sort. Besides, I was not sober at the time. Make +allowances, my Christian friend, always make allowances." + +"Then what of the child? If you mentioned anything it should have been +the child." + +At this Crabbe turned, and so sudden was his movement that Ringfield +retreated as if caught guiltily; in doing so he very nearly slipped on +the icy rocks that sloped imperceptibly towards the rushing fall, and +he was about to warn the guide, who was farther down the bank than +himself when the latter, rising abruptly, cried:-- + +"The child? What child? There never was any child. Thank heaven, we +were spared that complication!" + +"You deny it? You deny it in the face of the likeness, of the stories +of the village and the entire countryside; in face of the misery its +existence has caused her--the mother, and of the proof in your own +sodden, embruted condition, in face of her own admission----" + +"Admission? It is impossible she can have admitted what never +occurred. What did she say?" + +"She implied--implied--made me think----" + +"Made you think?" said the guide in disgust. "Made you think? That's +what's been the matter with you all along;--you think too much. You +wanted a bigger parish, Reverend Father, to occupy your time and mind. +St. Ignace was too small." + +This tone of banter was the one least calculated to appease the jealous +and vindictive spirit holding Ringfield in its grasp. He became +whiter, more agitated, and held up one hand as if to guard himself, yet +there was nothing furious in Crabbe's manner; rather the contrary, for +he was relieved at hearing of the natural misapprehension by which he +had been looked upon as Angeel's father. But Ringfield was difficult +to convince. No gossip had reached him where he lay at Archibald +Groom's, with Madame Poussette watching him, nor at the Hotel Champlain +where he had staggered the night before for a mad moment only, as he +asked for news of Crabbe and was told that he gone back to St. Ignace; +therefore he knew nothing of the _affaire Archambault_, as some of the +provincial papers called it, and had heard only the bare facts of Henry +Clairville's death and burial. To complete his ignorance, the +charitable institutions to which he had written had neglected to answer +his letters, for such an offer coming from such a source required time +for consideration, and his brain, neither a subtly trained nor +naturally cunning one, was incapable of those shifting drifts of +thought which occupy themselves with idly fitting certain acts to +certain individuals. His literal mind had always connected. Miss +Clairville, from the day of the Hawthorne picnic, with Angeel, and to +be told that they were not, as he had supposed, mother and child, was +only to merge him in the absolutely crushing puzzle of a +question--whose child then could she be? Might it not be--for here at +last his mind gave a twist, fatal to its usual literal drift--her child +by some one other than Crabbe? For who could mistake the eyes and +their expression, the way the hair grew on the forehead, the shape of +the hands, white and firm like Pauline's,--resemblances all made the +stranger by association with the unnaturally formed head and shoulders +of the unhappy child? + +The two stood facing each other; the Christian minister, originally a +being of blameless instincts and moral life, but now showing a +countenance and owning a temper distorted to sinful conditions from the +overshadowing of the great master passion; and the battered exile, +genuine, however, in his dealings with himself, and sincere in the +midst of degradation. So the Pharisee and the publican might have +stood. So in all ages often stand those extreme types, the moral man +who has avoided or by circumstances been free of temptation, and the +sinner who yet keeps a universal kindliness or other simple virtue in +his heart. Anguish in one was met by cheerful contempt and growing +pity in the other, and once more Crabbe essayed to reason with +Ringfield. + +"Believe me," he said, "I would give way to the better man, and you, of +course, are he, if I thought Miss Clairville's future would thereby be +benefited, but I cannot imagine anything more uncongenial than the life +which you--pardon me--would be likely to offer her. She has no money +and she loves money. She is tired of her home and all these +surroundings; I can take her from them for ever. She is gifted, +intelligent, and brilliant, and I can show her much that will interest +and transform her. She runs a risk, certainly, in marrying me, but she +knows my worst, and by Heaven--Ringfield, there's a power of comfort in +that! No setting on a pedestal, no bowing to an idol--and then perhaps +she will help in the working out of the tiger and the ape, make the +beast within me die. How the old familiar lines come back to one here +in this solitary place! I suppose I'll go down to Oxford some day and +see my old rooms,--take Pauline. We'd like to keep in touch with you, +Ringfield, send you a line now and then after you leave St. Ignace, for +I don't figure you remaining here all your life at the beck and call of +Poussette." + +Ringfield's eyes were on the ground, for a deep mystification still +possessed him; he had scarcely heard the latter part of Crabbe's +speech, for there remained unanswered that question in his tortured +mind--whose child was Angeel if not Pauline's, for he still saw the +basket-chair with the dreadful face in it as he looked down in the +barn, and still heard those damaging whispers from Enderby the night of +the concert. + +A groan escaped him; he threw a pained and bitter glance at Crabbe and +again studied the ground. + +"I find it hard to believe you. Hard, hard. The people at Hawthorne +all say it was--it was her's. Enderby told me." + +"God help you for a silly lunatic if you listen to the tales of country +people, Ringfield! They may have said so, they may have said all kinds +of stuff--I never spoke of it to a living soul myself, even in my cups; +I'll swear I left it alone even then." + +"But now, now you can speak! The time has come to speak! If not you, +then who, who could be that poor child's father!" + +"Why, of course I can tell you that!" said Crabbe, coming a pace +nearer. "I wonder you have not guessed by now. Her brother, Henry +Clairville. It was a bad business, but he paid for it, as we all do, +Ringfield, we all do." + +With a fierce gesture of extreme astonishment the minister sprang +forward and in his excitement struck the guide on the breast, a heavy +blow. Startled into forgetting his dangerous position, Crabbe threw +himself backward, seeing, as he thought, sudden madness in the other's +eyes, and immediately his doom was sealed. He slipped, tripped, tried +to save himself, rolled from one ice-covered boulder to another, was +cast from one mighty cauldron of furious seething waters to another, +and finally disappeared in the deeper pools that formed the lower and +greater fall. His poor body, bruised and beaten, choked and maimed, +had met the same fate as the little dog--and, strange to relate--he had +uttered no cry as he sank backwards into the cold watery abysses from +which there was no escape; his face only showed surprise and reproach +as he looked his last on Ringfield and this world. When upon the +bridge he had expected death, set his teeth and prayed, felt all vital +force drop away, then by degrees flow back again, but now, when Death +clutched him from behind and thrust him over those slippery precipices, +to the last moment there was only a profound consternation in his +staring blue eyes, as if he found it impossible to believe he was being +sucked down, whirled down, to eternity. Such was the end of Edmund +Crabbe Hawtree, Esquire, of Suffolk, England. + +Ringfield had not moved since Crabbe had fallen. His face was horrible +in the white intensity of its passion, and he continued to stare at the +spot where a moment before the guide had been sitting without making +the slightest endeavour to go to the rescue, or, by shouting for +assistance, attract the attention of people on the inhabited side of +the river. The image of the little dead dog merged into that of Crabbe +and vice versa; he confused these images and saw unnatural shapes +struggling in stormy waters, and thus the time wore on, ten, twenty, +thirty minutes, before he perceived a man at the far end of the bridge. +At first he thought it was Poussette, then it looked like Martin; +finally he knew it for Father Rielle, and at this everything cleared +and came back to him. He recollected the great hole spoken of by +Crabbe and knew that he ought to call out or lift a hand in warning, +yet he did neither. Father Rielle, however, was not too preoccupied to +observe the hole; he walked around it instead of over or through it and +had the presence of mind to pause, and after a few minutes' kneading +and compressing lumps of the damp snow into a species of scarecrow, +erected the clumsy squat figure of a misshapen man by the side of the +yawning gap and passed on. The sun was radiantly bright by now and the +ice beginning to melt off from twigs and wires; the red carpet-bag +flamed forth more emphatically than ever, and presently the two men +were not more than a few paces apart. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +THE HAVEN + + "Stripp'd as I am of all the golden fruit + Of self-esteem; and by the cutting blasts + Of self-reproach familiarly assail'd." + + +Ringfield bared his head as the priest approached, standing with +lowered eyes and heaving breast. Father Rielle stopped short in wonder +as he noted the pale drawn face, the working hands, the averted eyes +and trembling lips. + +"Can I do anything for you?" he cried in his excellent English. +"Monsieur is not well perhaps? This peculiar day, this air----" + +"You are right. I am not well. I have been very ill, but that was +nothing, only illness of the body. Yes, there is one thing you can do +for me. Oh! man of God! What does it matter that I do not belong to +your communion? It must not matter, it shall not matter. Father +Rielle, I need your help very much, very, very much." + +In still profounder astonishment the priest took a step forward. + +"You are in trouble, trouble of the soul, some perplexity of the mind? +Tell me then how I can help?" + +And Ringfield answered:-- + +"Father Rielle, I wish to confess to you. I wish you to hear a +confession." + +"Oh! Monsieur, think! We are not of the same communion. You have +said so yourself. You would perhaps ridicule my holy office, my +beloved Church!" + +"No, no! I am too much in earnest." + +"You wish me to hear a confession, you, a minister of another religious +body not in sympathy with us, not a son of the only true Church? I do +not care to receive this confession, Monsieur." + +Ringfield's hand pressed heavily on the priest's arm and his agonized +face came very close. Father Rielle's curiosity naturally ran high. + +"Monsieur," he said nevertheless coldly, not choosing to display this +desire to know too suddenly, as there darted into his mind the image of +Miss Clairville, "it is true you have no right to demand absolution +from me, a priest of the Holy Catholic Church, it is true I have no +right to hear this confession and give or withhold absolution. Yet, +monsieur, setting dogma and ritual aside, we both believe in the same +Heavenly Father, in the same grand eternal hope. I will hear this +confession, my brother, _in nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti_, +Amen. And may it bring peace to your soul." + +There was a silence, and then Ringfield led the way to the little +church. Father Rielle, who had never been inside the finished edifice +before, although he had frequently walked through it while the builders +were at work, entered respectfully and crossed himself in the porch. + +"Ah!" he whispered or rather breathed in French as if disinclined to +speak louder, "if you were but as I am, my brother, if you were but one +of the true flock shepherded by the only Shepherd! Perhaps this is but +the beginning. Perhaps you desire to cast away your inadequate faith +and come to us, be one with us. My brother, I pray that this may be +so. With us alone you shall have comfort to your soul and sweet solace +in affliction, peace of mind, honesty of conviction, and after many a +struggle, purity of life." + +As he ceased, Ringfield, by some extraordinary instinct which mastered +him, at once fell upon his knees at the side of Father Rielle, who had +taken a seat not far from the door, where he might command a view of +the bridge in case of interruption, and with that dangerous hole in the +footway in his memory. + +"If I say 'Holy Father,' will that be right?" + +"Quite right, my son. Have no fear. Say on." + +Ringfield bowed his head on his hands and began:-- + +"Holy Father----" + +The priest waited quietly. His thin sensitive visage was transfigured +and his whole being uplifted and dignified as he thus became the +Mediator between Man and God. + +"Holy Father, I know no form of word----" + +"That does not matter. Whether you cry 'Peccavi' or 'Father, I have +sinned,' it is all the same." + +"Holy Father, I have sinned, sinned grievously before God and Heaven, +before men and angels, but most of all have I sinned before my own +ideals and conceptions of what I meant to be--a Christian clergyman. +Hear my confession, Holy Father; with you to love, love a woman, would +be sin; it was not sin for me, and yet in loving a woman it became sin +also with me, for it blotted out God and humanity. I not only loved--I +also hated; I lived to hate. I hated while I was awake and while I +slept, in walking, in eating, in drinking, so that my life became a +burden to me and I forsook the throne of God in prayer." + +The priest, in the moment's pause which had followed these words of +self-abasement, had seen something across the river that claimed his +attention, nevertheless he gravely encouraged the penitent. + +"Keep nothing back, my son. Let me hear all." + +What he had seen was a man running up and down in front of Poussette's, +in some agitation as he fancied, presently to be joined by two or three +others. + +"Thus I lived, hating. I left this place, hating, and I followed him, +you know whom I mean, hating. I met him there or rather I sought him +out and helped him to fall, watched him drink strong liquor and did not +intervene, did not stay his hand. I made him drunk--I left him +drunk--I left him drunk. I went away and lied. I said he was ill and +I locked the door and took the key. I went back again and saw him; he +was still drunk and I was glad, because I thought 'This will keep him +here, this will make her hate and avoid him, this will prevent the +marriage'." + +Father Rielle, though listening intently, still kept his gaze riveted +on the peculiar actions of the men outside Poussette's. The running to +and fro continued, but now suddenly an impulse prompted them to go in +one direction; they pointed, gesticulated, and then with startling +rapidity disappeared around the corner of the bridge. By this time the +priest was convinced that something was transpiring of serious and +uncommon import, yet he gave precedence to the wants of the penitent, +kneeling with head on his hands. + +"I vowed he should never marry her--you know of whom I am speaking, of +both?" + +"I know, my son." + +"I say--I followed him. I took a room--I will tell you where, +later--which enabled me to watch him should he go out. Then I fell ill +myself and had to be kept in bed. O the torture, the pain, of knowing +that I might miss him, that he might leave without my knowledge, I, +from weakness, being unable to overtake him! And that happened, that +came to pass, as I feared it would." + +"You watched him go?" + +"No. When I recovered sufficiently to walk, I went to find him. I +went to that place where I had helped to make him drunk, but he was +gone." + +"What day was that?" + +"I do not know. I have lost track of the days, lost track of the time." + +Father Rielle was now more than professionally interested; he saw that +the man before him was in a terrible state of incipient mental collapse. + +"Surely you can tell me what day this is?" he cried. + +"I cannot." + +"Nor yesterday?" + +"No." + +"Yesterday was Sunday." + +"Sunday? The word has no meaning." + +"But at least you know where you are, where we both are at this +instant." + +"Yes, I know that. We are in the church built by M. Poussette." + +"Yesterday was Sunday and there should have been a service here, but +you were absent. How long have you been here? Were you waiting for +me?" + +"No." + +"For him?" + +"Yes." + +"And he came? Over the bridge?" + +In a flash the priest divined, as he thought, the fate of Crabbe. + +"_Mon Dieu! M'tenant je comprends_! The hole I passed and all-but +stumbled through! You cut that, you waited to see him fall through and +drown! Perhaps he has ceased to struggle! Ah! that is why the crowd +is gathering at Poussette's!" + +Father Rielle rose to his feet and thrust aside the appealing hands of +the other, but the strength exerted in this supreme moment was terrific +and the priest could not escape. + +"No, no," sobbed Ringfield, dry-eyed and trembling. "I know what you +think--that I pushed him over, that I pushed him down, but I did not. +I wished to kill him, I wished to put him out of the way, but I had not +the courage. He crossed in safety, the hole was not my doing. He +stood there on the rock and he lied to me about her, about Miss +Clairville, and I struck him and he stumbled and fell." + +"You pushed him, God forgive you, I know you pushed! You have killed +him and now you are keeping me here. Let me go, let me go!" + +"I did not push, I swear it! Only in my mind, only in my thoughts, did +I kill him. I struck him and he fell. But it is true that I am guilty +in thought, if not in deed, and I will take my punishment." + +"What do you mean? What are you saying? One moment you are innocent +of this man's death; the next you are saying you are guilty." + +Ringfield at last removed his heavy clasp from the priest's arm and +stood quietly waiting, it seemed, as if for condemnation or sentence. + +"Before God, it was not my hand that sent him to his death, still, +having come to my senses, I desire to suffer for my fault, and I will +give myself up to take what punishment I deserve. I have disgraced my +calling and my Church. I can never preach again, never live the life +of a Christian minister again. Some shelter I must seek, some silence, +some reparation I must make----" + +He bent his eyes on the ground, his whole mien expressed the contrition +of the sinner, but Father Rielle thought more of the affair from the +standpoint of crime than from that of sin. + +"What do you mean by punishment?" he said, torn between curiosity to +know what had really become of the guide and a wish to hear everything +Ringfield had to say. While the priest was thus hesitating to move +along the road to the point where by making a slight detour among some +pines he could cross farther down, a striking but wholly incongruous +figure emerged from the trees. With shining top hat, fur-lined coat, +gauntlets and cane, M. Lalonde, the Montreal detective, came forward +with his professional conceit no whit impaired by juxtaposition with +these glacial and solitary surroundings. He handed his card to the +priest and bowed to them both. + +"_Mon Dieu_!" muttered Father Rielle, "it is true then! You saw it +all! You saw it all--I can see!" + +"What there was to see, I certainly saw," returned M. Lalonde, with a +careless glance of pity at the forlorn figure of Ringfield. "I not +only saw, but I heard. I followed this gentleman from the Hotel +Champlain as he followed--our late acquaintance--to this place. Permit +me, monsieur, permit me, _monsieur le cure_, to testify if necessary +that you are entirely guiltless of the death." + +"In act, yes, but not in thought," groaned Ringfield in deepest anguish. + +"The law cannot punish for sins of thought; we leave that to the +Church. If, monsieur, you had but inquired further into what is known +now in provincial annals as the Archambault affair, perhaps you might +have been spared some misapprehension and much suffering. Mr. Henry +Clairville left a wife." + +"A wife!" + +"You did not know that? Eh? A wife certainly, as well as a child. A +daughter." + +"But who----" + +"I reciprocate your astonishment. The child's nurse is its mother; +she, the empty-headed, the foolish Artemise. She was not of age, it is +true, but there--it is done and who cares now, who will interfere or +contest? The matter will drop out of sight completely in a few days; +meanwhile, monsieur, I return as I came. The morning is fine and I +shall enjoy my walk back to the station at Bois Clair. _Monsieur le +cure_, you have my card. At any time in your _paroisse_ should you +have any more interesting family secrets to divulge, pray do not forget +my address. _Allons_! I will walk with you to the scene of the +tragedy, as we shall see it shortly described in the papers. As for +you, monsieur, have courage and be tranquil. Rest, monsieur, rest for +awhile and leave these scenes of strife and unhappiness as soon as you +can. I understand your case; my professional knowledge avails me here, +but there are some who might not understand, and so make it hard for +you." + +The priest looked at Lalonde's card and then at Ringfield. + +"Sinner, or worse," he cried, "I cannot, cannot stay. I must go where +my duty calls me and see if I can be of use, see whether a man lives or +has been shot down to death. Do nothing till I return; at least do +nothing desperate. I will seek you as soon as I may. There will be a +way out for you yet; I know a haven, a refuge. Only promise me; +promise not to give up to remorse and contrition too deeply." + +Ringfield stood pale and quiet and gave the promise, but Father Rielle +and Lalonde ran along the road leading back from the fall until they +reached a point where the river was sufficiently frozen to admit of +walking across. Arrived at last among those who had left Poussette's a +quarter of an hour before, they were just in time to view the body of +the guide where it lay wedged between two large ice-covered boulders. +In a few minutes Martin drew it forth; Dr. Renaud was speedily +summoned, but life was surely quite extinct, and now the priest and +physician met in consultation as to the task of breaking the tragic +news to Miss Clairville. In a little while the whole of St. Ignace +gathered upon the river-bank to discuss the accident in voluble and +graphic French. It was seventeen years since any one had gone over the +fall in such a manner and only the oldest present remembered it. + +The body of the unfortunate Englishman was taken to Gagnon's +establishment and placed in the room recently occupied by Ringfield, +who went home with the priest and to whom he seemed to turn in +ever-increasing confidence and respect. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +THE WILL OF GOD + + "I hope, said she, that Heaven + Will give me patience to endure the things + Which I behold at home...." + + +The glorious noonday sun was lighting up all the road to Clairville and +making it possible for the peacock to revive his display of a +glistening fan of feathers tipped with frosted filaments that were only +rivalled by the pendant encrustations of the surrounding trees, and in +a window of the manor Pauline was standing looking at the bird after +showing Angeel the various little trifles she had brought with her. +The child's infirmity did not prevent her from enjoying the good things +of life; indeed, as frequently occurs in such cases, her senses were +almost preternaturally acute and her faculties bright and sensitive in +the extreme. In place of any system of general education, impossible +during those sequestered years at Hawthorne in charge of her incapable +mother, she had picked up one or two desultory talents which might yet +stand her instead of mere bookishness; she was never without a pencil +in her long white fingers and busied herself by the hour with little +drawings and pictures of what she had seen in her limited experience, +and some of these she had been exhibiting now to the person she held +both in awe and adoration. Her kinship to this elegant, dark-haired +lady had only recently been explained, and Pauline was trying to +accustom herself to being addressed as "ma tante" and "tante cherie" +with other endearing and embarrassing terms of regard. + +But the time was going on and Miss Clairville turned from the window; a +very little of Angeel was all she could stand just now. + +"At this rate our beautiful view will soon disappear," she said, +sitting down beside the basket-chair. "See then, _mon enfant_, how +already the ice drips off the trees and all the pretty glass tubes are +melting from the wires overhead! It is so warm too, like a day in +spring. _Eh! bien_, I must go now back to my friends who are waiting +for me. I have nothing more to show little girls. You have now the +beads, the satin pincushion, and the little red coat that is called a +Zouave jacket--see how gay! and you will find it warm and pleasant to +wear when your kind _maman_ makes it to fit you. And here too are the +crayons to paint with and a new slate. _Soyez toujours bonne fille, +p'tite_, and perhaps some day you will see your poor aunt again." + +"Not my poor aunt! My rich, _rich_ aunt." + +"Ah--_tais toi, ma p'tite_! But you, too, are not poor any longer. +That reminds me, I must have a little talk with your kind _maman_." + +With some difficulty overcoming her dislike of the individual and +aversion to the entire family arrangement, Pauline walked out to the +hall which separated the faded _salon_, where she had been sitting, +from the still untidy bedroom and called for Artemise. In a few +moments the widow of Henry Clairville came in sight at the top of the +staircase leading to the upper room, her bright black eyes dulled and +frightened and her hands trembling visibly, for was not Mlle. +Clairville her enemy, being not only a relative now by marriage but her +late mistress, tyrant and superior? But the certainty of leaving the +neighbourhood in a very few days put Pauline so much at her ease that +she could afford to show her brightest and most amiable side to her +sister-in-law, and thus she made a graceful if authoritative advance to +the bottom of the staircase and stretched forth both her white hands, +even going the length of imprinting a slow kiss on the other's sunburnt +cheek. Few could at any time have resisted the mingled charms of so +magnetic a personality, with something of the stage lingering in it, an +audacity, an impulsiveness, rare among great ladies, and it must be +remembered that in the limited society of St. Ignace, Miss Clairville +passed as a great lady, and was one indeed in all minor traits. Then +the touch of her skin was so soft, there always exhaled a delicate, +elusive, but sweet perfume from her clothes and hair, and even in her +mourning she had preserved the artistic touches necessary to please. +No wonder that the poor Artemise should burst into weak tears and cry +for pity and forgiveness as that soft kiss fell upon her cheek and +those proud hands grasped her own. + +"_Chut_!" cried Miss Clairville, drawing the other into the _salon_. +"I am not angry with you, child! If Henry made you his wife it was +very right of him and no one shall blame you nor complain. Only had I +known--ah, well, it might not have made so much difference after all. +You are going to be very comfortable here, Artemise, and I shall write +to you from time to time--oh, have no fear! regularly, my dear! And +Dr. Renaud and his Reverence are to see about selling Henry's books and +papers, and it is possible that they bring you a nice sum of money. +With that, there is one thing I should like you to do. Are you +listening to me, Artemise?" + +"_Bien_, mademoiselle," answered Artemise, through her sobs. "I +listen, I will do anything you say. I am sorry, ma'amselle. I should +not be here, I know; it is you who should be here, here at Clairville, +and be its mistress." + +Still secure in her ideas of impending ease and happiness, and unaware +of the course of tragic accident which was operating at that same +moment against her visions of release and freedom and depriving her of +the future she relied on, Pauline laughed musically at the notion. + +"Oh, that--for me? No, thank you, my dear. In any case I had done +with Clairville. If not marriage, then the stage. If not the +stage--and there were times when it wearied and disgusted me, with the +uneducated people one met and the vagaries of that man, Jean +Rochelle--then a paid situation somewhere. The last--very difficult +for me, a Clairville [and again she very nearly used the prefix, a +tardy endorsing of Henry's pet project], and with my peculiar needs. +To be sure, a religious house had offered me a good place, thanks to +Father Rielle, at a good figure for Canada, but there are other +countries, Artemise, there are other countries, and I am still young, +_n'est-ce-pas_?" + +"Mademoiselle will never be old. She has the air of a princess, the +complexion--_d'une vierge_!" + +Pauline was much amused and laughed once more with so thrilling a +cadence in her rich voice that the child in the basket-chair clapped +its hands and laughed too. + +"So now, Artemise, try and understand what I tell you, for I shall not +see you again before I leave, and these are my last wishes, to be +faithfully carried out. I know the world, my dear, and I have had many +trying, many sad experiences, and as you grow older, and I trust wiser, +you will begin to realize what a charge Angeel will be. Are you +attending, Artemise?" + +"_Oui, oui, ma'amselle_." + +"Very well. I have told Dr. Renaud to come and see you often and +advise you; he will be a kind of guardian for you both, and will attend +you, as he did Henry, free of charge. The debts in the village and at +Poussette's cannot possibly be paid, but I will speak to Maman +Archambault about the future. The sale of Henry's effects will bring +enough, I hope, to enable you to find, still through Dr. Renaud, some +kind teacher for Angeel, and I wish, I particularly wish that this +talent for drawing and painting shall be encouraged. Do you understand +me?" + +"_Oui, Ma'amselle_." Pauline's bright eye had transfixed the wandering +gaze of Artemise, who by almost superhuman efforts was trying to +collect her thoughts and remember all these directions. + +"She can never hope for companionship, nor--certainly not--for school +advantages, nor yet marriage; how then? She must amuse herself, fill +in the time, be always occupied. Maman Archambault and you will sew +for her, cook for her, and watch over her, and if at any time the money +comes to an end----Artemise, listen, I tell you! Collect your wits and +keep looking at me." For the girl's attention was clearly wandering +now to something outside the house. + +"_Oui, Mademoiselle, oui, oui._" + +Pauline stamped her foot in her annoyance. + +"The creature is not following what I say!" she exclaimed. +"Angeel--you can remember! You know what I have been saying. You are +to learn to draw, perhaps to paint, to make little pictures, +caricatures--oh, it will be so pleasant for you, and by and by people +will pay you to do this for them. See, _petite_, you must be very wise +for yourself, for the poor kind _maman_ cannot be wise for you." + +And Angeel's heavy head nodded sagely in swift discernment of this +evident truth, for Artemise was now tired of the subject and of +Pauline's endless farewells and preferred to look out of the window. + +Rare sight on a December day, the peacock was still pacing to and fro, +for the air was as mild and balmy as in June, and although the road ran +water and the trees were rapidly losing their icy trappings the +courtyard had been swept of snow and therefore remained almost dry. +The beauty of the glissade was over. But Artemise looked only for a +moment at the peacock. Along the road from the direction of the +village were advancing two men, Dr. Renaud and the priest; behind them, +a few steps, walked Martin, the Indian. They came near the stone +fence, they stopped, all three, and seemed to confer, studying from +time to time the front of the house. Absorbed in watching them, +Artemise listened no longer at all to Miss Clairville's pronouncements +and indeed very little was left to say. Pauline put on her gloves, +slung her muff around her neck and submitted to a frantic embrace from +the warm-hearted, lonely little girl, then turned to bid farewell to +the mother. + +"Two hours by my watch!" she cried gaily. "Which of us has been the +gossip, the chatterbox, eh, Artemise! _Eh! bien_, I wish you a very +sincere and a very long good-bye." Some emotion crept into her throat, +into her voice. The child was her brother's. This poor girl, the +mother, bore her own name, and she could not harden her heart entirely +against the ill-starred couple, and why should she! She was bidding +them both farewell, probably for ever, and the prospect so soothed her +that she ejaculated, "Poor children!" and wiped away a tear. + +"Take great care of yourself, Artemise, for Angeel's sake and mine, and +for the sake of the name you bear and the place it has held in the +country. But what are you looking at so intently? What is the matter +out there, Artemise?" + +At that instant the priest detached himself from the others and +entering the domain walked slowly up to the door and knocked. + +Pauline, not comprehending the nature of the visit, went herself and +opened to Father Rielle. His long face told her nothing--was it not +always long? The presence of Renaud and the guide, whom she also saw +in the background, told her nothing; their being there was perhaps only +a coincidence and they had not turned their faces as yet in her +direction. Precisely as Crabbe had met his fate without seeing it +arrive, although half an hour earlier he had foreseen death and prayed +against it, she faced the priest with a smiling countenance, her +tremors past, her conviction--that her lover was alive and well and +able to take her away that instant if necessary--quite unaltered. +Father Rielle had a difficult task to perform and he realized it. + +Twice he essayed to speak and twice he stammered only unmeaning words. +Pauline translated his incoherent and confused murmurs with +characteristic and vigorous conceit; she believed him so anxious to +make her a private farewell instead of a stereotyped adieu in public +that she thought he had walked out from St. Ignace on purpose. + +"It is all settled and therefore hopeless!" she began. "You cannot +interfere or change me now." + +The priest repeated the words after her. "Settled? Hopeless?" he +uttered in a furtive manner as if anxious to escape. + +"I mean my marriage," she went on gaily. "It has been discovered that +I am no longer, if I was ever, a good Catholic, and there is +consequently no hitch, no difficulty! I am supposed to be nothing at +all, so we shall be just married in the one church, his church, you +understand. And now you may absolve me, your Reverence, if you choose, +for the last time." + +"Mademoiselle," began the priest with a scared look at the bright face +above him, "it is of that I must speak. Mademoiselle, this marriage, +your marriage, it--it will not take place. It cannot take place." + +The brilliant eyes hardened, the barred gate stood out upon her +forehead. + +"You think because I am a Catholic----" + +"No, Mademoiselle, it has nothing to do with that. I came here to tell +you, I was sent--there is something you must be told, that you must +know--it is very difficult for me. Oh! Mademoiselle, I find it even +more difficult than I thought, I must have help, I must ask some one +else, I cannot--cannot." + +His voice broke, stopped. The other men, turning at last towards the +house, saw the priest's bowed head and Pauline's bright but angry face, +and Dr. Renaud at once came to Father Rielle's rescue. + +"Mademoiselle," he began, but Pauline, leaving the door open, rushed +down the walk and met him at the gate. Her hands were pressed upon her +bosom and her wild eyes sought his in alarm, for she knew now that +something had happened, that something was wrong, although the mental +picture of Crabbe lying dead or dying did not occur to her. She +figured instead, some quibble, some legal matter, a money strait, a +delay, but the doctor, quietly taking one of her hands in his, spoke as +tenderly as was possible for a man of his bearing. + +"Father Rielle is saddened, crushed. He cannot tell you, for he feels +it too much. I feel it, too, but I must be brave and put away these +feelings, this natural weakness. My dear lady, my dear Mademoiselle, +your friend, your _fiance_, the man you were about to marry, has met +with a very bad accident." + +"A bad accident." + +"Yes, a very serious one. You must be prepared." + +"He has been killed? Then I know who did it--I know." + +"An accident, an accident only, mademoiselle, I assure you. But a very +serious one, as I have said." + +"Very serious? He--he--where is he? Take me to him. Oh! I knew +something would happen, I am not surprised, I am not surprised. But it +shall not prevent my seeing him, waiting on him. It shall not prevent +our marriage." + +The piteousness of her position softened the doctor's heart still +further; he kept hold of her hand and modulated his voice. + +"I am afraid it may. I am afraid you will have to prepare yourself for +a great shock. Martin here--found him." + +She did not yet understand. + +"Martin, I say, was the one who found it." + +The change of pronoun did not fully enlighten her. + +"But he is alive! Yes, of course he is alive, only badly hurt. Then +we can be married at once wherever he is. Any one can marry us--Father +Rielle will tell you that. If we both wish, and we both believe in +God, that is sufficient. Other things will not matter. Any one, any +one can marry us. Take me to him." + +Dr. Renaud, relinquishing her hand, stepped to the side of the priest +and was followed by Martin. Artemise, always curious and flighty, ran +out and overheard a word or two as the three men again conferred and +fled back to the house, shrieking as she went. + +"Dead! Dead! Another death! Within a week! You see I can count! +You see I can count! Dead, drowned, and all in a week!" + +The truth was now borne in upon Pauline, and she turned to meet the +united gaze of the three men, reading confirmation of the awful news in +their averted and sobered eyes. The shock told, her limbs shook, her +sight left her, her throat grew sore and dry, but she did not faint. + +"I am so cold," she said in English. And again in the same tongue. "I +feel so cold. Why is it?" + +Dr. Renaud hastened to her, supporting her with his arm. + +"You have guessed?" he said hurriedly. + +"I heard. Is it true?" + +"Dear mademoiselle, I regret to say, quite true. He was carried over +the Fall! there was no escape, no hope. Come, let me take you back to +the house for a moment where you may sit down." For she continued to +tremble so violently that presently she sank upon the low fence, still +pressing her hands over her heart. "Come, mademoiselle, let me take +you into the house." + +"Not that house! Not that house!" + +"Faith--I know of no other! You cannot remain here." + +"But I can go back, back to Poussette's." + +"You must drive or be driven then. You cannot walk." + +It was true. Pauline's breath was now very short, her articulation +difficult, her throat contracted and relaxed by turns. + +"It is true!" she gasped. "I cannot walk. I cannot even stand up. +Oh, Dr. Renaud, this is more than weakness or fright. I am very sick, +Doctor. Why cannot I stand up?" + +Renaud tore off his coat, the priest and Martin did the same. Folding +all three beside the fence where the snow was still thick and dry they +laid Miss Clairville down and watched her. Martin fetched brandy while +the entire Archambault family flocked out to see the sight, and stood +gaping and chattering until rebuked by Father Rielle. The doctor knelt +a long time at her side. Knowing her so well, he was secretly +astonished at the weakness she had shown and he dealt with her most +kindly. Tragedy had at last touched her too deeply; a latent tendency +of the heart to abnormal action had suddenly developed under pressure +of emotion and strain of shock, and he foresaw what she and the others +did not--a long and tedious illness with periods of alarming collapse +and weakness. For herself, so ill was she for the first time in her +active life, she thought more about her own condition than of her loss; +she imagined herself dying and following her lover on the same day to +the grave. The image of Ringfield too was absent from her thoughts, +which were now chiefly concentrated on her symptoms and sufferings. + +"Am I not very ill?" she asked presently, after a little of the brandy +had somewhat stilled the dreadful beating of her heart, the dreadful +booming in her ears. + +"Yes, mademoiselle. But you will recover." + +"I have never been sick before." + +"You are sure of that? Never had any nervous sensations, no tremors, +no palpitations?" + +"Ah, those! Yes, frequently, but I never thought much about them. +They were part of my life, my emotional life, and natural to me. Shall +I die?" + +"I think not, mademoiselle. I believe not, but you may be ill for a +while." + +"Ill! For how long?" + +"That I cannot tell you. You must have care and quiet, absolute quiet." + +Pauline said no more. The distress of heart and nerves came on again; +she moaned, being exceedingly troubled in spirit and her pallor was +great. + +"It is clear you must not remain out in the road any longer, +mademoiselle. You must be put to bed and have warmth and rest and some +kind woman to look after you. Ah! How we would welcome our good Mme. +Poussette now, but she has flown, she has flown. So it will be Mme. +Archambault perhaps, who knows all about sickness; has she not reared +thirteen of her own, or fourteen, I forget which? Come, mademoiselle, +we will lift you carefully. The door is open, the manor is hospitable +and warm, its kitchen and larder well stocked, its cellars overflowing. +Faith--you might do worse, and at Poussette's who would be there to +nurse you?" + +Pauline was too spent to utter the defiant objections that in health +she would have hurled at the speaker. Tragedy indeed had touched her +for once too deeply, and she submitted to be helped back into her old +home, the house made hateful by a thousand painful associations of an +unhappy youth, without uttering a single remonstrance. Some of her +native courage knocked timidly at her frightened heart, clamouring to +be reassured of days to come, of duties to be taken up, of life to be +lived, for over and above her sense of cruel frustration and +bereavement she dreaded death, not caring to die. The closing of the +episode in which the guide figured so prominently appalled and +stupefied her, yet her inherent vitality sprang up, already trying to +assert itself. + +"What a position is mine!" she thought, when a slight return of +strength enabled her, leaning on the doctor's arm, to reach the room so +long occupied by her brother. But her lips said nothing. There was no +other place to put her; the salon did not contain a sofa, she could not +be lodged with Artemise or Angeel, and meanwhile her weakness increased +till she asked herself to be put to bed. Maman Archambault was sent +for and in a few moments Pauline was lying on the lumpy tattered +mattress which had served Henry Clairville for his last couch. + +The course of tragic accident had brought her to this, and could she +have foreseen the long, long weary time, first of illness, then of +convalescence, and finally a physical change so marked as to unfit her +for all but a narrow domestic life, it is likely that with her fierce +and impatient temper she might have been tempted to end her existence. +As one for whom the quest of happiness was ended as far as a prosperous +marriage and removal from St. Ignace were involved, she now depended on +herself again, and bitterly as she might mourn and lament the +disappointment and chagrin which in a moment had permanently saddened +her future, her grief and mortification would have been bitterer still +could she have foreseen the long nights of half-delirious insomnia, the +days of utter apathy and uselessness which stretched blankly before her. + +Later that night, when she had tried to compose herself to sleep but +without success, she called Maman Archambault into the room. + +"Give me a light--for the love of God, a light!" she wailed, sitting up +with all her dark hair pouring over the bed. "How dare you leave me +without a light and I so ill!" + +"But the doctor said----" + +"What do I care what he said! In this room, in the dark, are all sorts +of creatures, I hear them! Henry is here, or his ghost, and the +Poussette woman is here, singing her silly songs, and rats are here, +and cats, and worse things, moving and crawling all over me, in the +walls, everywhere!" + +The old woman set the lamp on the table. She was very angry. + +"It is not so, mademoiselle. The room was cleaned. Maybe a ghost, +_n'sais pas_. Maybe a cat or two. Yes, there's the white one now +under your bed and her kittens! I'll drive them out." + +Miss Clairville sank back and watched. So had her brother lain. So +had the cats lain under the bed during his sickness. Maman Archambault +went out to her _paillasse_ in the hall, the night wore on, but without +sleep for Pauline, and towards morning so intense were her sufferings +that a messenger was sent for Dr. Renaud, who came as requested and was +destined to come again and again for many a weary month. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + +THE QUEST OF HAPPINESS + + "Ye wish for act and circumstance, that make + The individual known and understood; + And such as my best judgment could select + From what the place afforded, have been given." + + +The consistency of character or rather the defect of that virtue which +had perhaps caused the aberration under which Ringfield had very nearly +committed a crime without being, as we say, a depraved or vicious +member of society, helped after the melancholy denoument of Crabbe's +sudden death to determine a line of conduct for the future. His mind, +restored to its natural bent, the study of the soul of man and its +relation to the spiritual world, no longer dwelt on Miss Clairville nor +on any other worldly matter, and therefore his next and as it proved +final move was not so peculiar as seemed at first sight; he chose to +enter a religious house and end his days there, as in the heat of +remorseful and involuntary confession he had told Father Rielle. There +was no chance for this last act of abnegation in his own community, +hence the attention he now began to give to the personality and +conversation of the priest, and hence the ultimate triumph of the +Catholic Church. He still loved his own Church, but what was there for +him within her narrow boundaries in the future? That Church said: "You +must be good even if you are narrow, you must practise holiness, you +must stand daily in the fierce light of secular criticism, and you know +you shall be found wanting," and at the voice he quailed, feeling his +weakness. Then it was that Rome claimed him, showing him her unique +position among the Churches. Never allowing or fostering modern doubt, +immune against innovation, with myriad and labyrinthine channels of +work for the different temperaments that entered within her gates, she +presented at that time the spectacle of the only Church not divided +against herself, and Ringfield suddenly yearned towards the cloister, +the cross, the strange, hooded, cloaked men, the pale and grave, or +red-cheeked merry nuns, the rich symbolism of even the simplest +service, and he longed to hurl himself from the outside world to that +beckoning world of monks and monastic quiet. As a Methodist, there was +then no possible opening of the kind he wished for, whatever there may +be at a later day, when hardly any religious body keeps itself to +itself but is daily invaded by efforts and struggles, apings after +something coveted and difficult of attainment, and when the term +evangelical is a word signifying the loosening of all proper bonds and +the admission of dangerous degrees and shades of doubtful moral +unsteadfastness. + +He felt an inward shame, a daily humiliation, when he considered his +position; he had disgraced his own Church--would any other Church then +receive him? Finally he sought the priest. + +"If I am proved unworthy of the ministrations of the Church I was born +and brought up in, am I not unworthy of yours? What is to become of +me, for a God and a Church and a hiding-place I must have?" + +And Father Rielle answered quietly:-- + +"There is no difficulty, my son. The sin, if sin it was, is past, and +even if it were not, if it still lingered in you, we would take you in +and help and restore you. We refuse no man, no woman; we do not +question, we do not talk, we make no guesses, we are not curious. We +will take you as we have taken, as our Church has taken, thousands of +others--for the present and for the future--caring nothing for the +past. We recognize that all men are not alike. Some will still +preach, and you were one of these, but you will soon be content to +preach no longer; for such as you it is but a weariness of the flesh, a +disturber, a tempter. Others will still do parish work, like myself; +regular work among the people that does not show, more or less +successful, more or less uneventful. Others will pass in behind the +high walls of a monastery and lead the ordered life prescribed for +them; you are to be one of these and I foresee you gaining in +self-restraint, calm, and growing in spiritual insight as you +voluntarily forsake all worldly ties and sympathies and disappear from +men for ever." + +Ringfield moved uneasily. It seemed as if the priest took things too +much for granted. + +"How can I tell?" he faltered. "It attracts me, it moves before me +night and day; the quiet hours told off by bells--are they not?" + +"Yes, my brother." + +"The cowled men working in the garden, at graves, I have heard. Is it +not so?" + +"Yes, yes, and at other things," said the priest indulgently. + +"The prayers, said kneeling on the cold floors, the precision and +solemnity of it all, the absence of all distractions. Oh, there surely +I shall find rest unto my soul;--only if I joined, and found I could +not stay, if the world again called me!" + +Father Rielle closed his eyes and yawned with an indescribable air of +mastery and insolence. + +"There would always be your oath, my son. Do not forget that." + +"My oath! An oath!" + +"Certainly. There will be preparation necessary for many days before +you can enter. But once a member, a sworn member of that community (I +am thinking of our brothers at Oka), you have done with the world. You +know the world no longer. It cannot call you." + +"But if it did----" + +"I say it cannot." + +"But I might burst my bonds and seek it!" + +"You might, but I do not think you will. Our Church can be loving and +restful and harmonious and beautiful (thus the jargon of the heretic) +but it can also be masterful and tyrannical and terrible, even cruel, +so they say, although I do not go that far myself. And the call of it, +the memory of it, the significance of it, the power and majesty and +awfulness of it will draw you back. Oh! Have no fear, monsieur! If I +may charge myself with your conversion I will stake a great deal, a +very great deal indeed, on the chances of your absolute and final +surrender, with even temporary reversion an impossibility. You will +decide quickly then, monsieur, although we do not ask for haste. We +can wait." + +And with emphasis in his thrilling voice the priest murmured again: +"The Church of Rome can always wait." + +This statement and the other predictions concerning Ringfield were +verified in course of time, for without seeing Pauline again he made +instant preparation for the solemn and extraordinary step which closed +his career in the world as we know it. Poor Pauline! The promise +given to Henry Clairville on his death-bed was kept, it is needless to +say, but only half kept, as she did not admit the child to her +confidence, nor show it affection, and only kept at all because she +could not help herself. Very gradually her strength returned after +nearly two years of invalidism, and then the streaks of grey in her +hair, her altered figure and expression, told part of her story to +those who thought they knew all. Who at St. Ignace could enter into +her feelings or offer her consolation? + +"No one could be sorrier than I am for doing the young lady an +injustice," was the loudly expressed opinion of Enderby. "Not but what +there was grounds. There is, they tell me, often a more striking +likeness between cousins, aunts, and such, than between mother and +daughter and father and son. What I done any one might have done, and +what I said I've long ago took back." + +These remarks were made with characteristic magnanimity at the annual +Hawthorne festival, a couple of years after the picnic tea at which +Ringfield had assisted; held this year on 20th October, a warm sun +flooded the valley, the women wore their lightest dresses, and Mrs. +Abercorn was particularly gay in a flowered muslin, dating from the +time of William the Fourth, with _honi soit qui mal y pense_ on a blue +ribbon worked into the design of the material; a garden hat was tied +under her chin and a fur cape lay over her shoulders. No one was +present from St. Ignace, but a good deal of talk might have been heard +which signified that Miss Clairville was still the interesting central +figure of the neighbourhood. + +"She spends very little time, they tell me, with the child yonder, +although it is her brother's own. The child sits in one room and her +aunt in another; one draws pictures of every mortal thing, and some +things not mortal, and the other looks out of window and rarely speaks. +'Tis a sad sight, they say, that members of one family are thus as far +removed in feeling and ways of talking as--as----" the speaker paused +in perplexity, vainly searching for a suitable and sufficiently strong +simile. + +"What can ye expect, ma'am?" said Enderby loftily, with his habitual +consideration for the aristocracy. "Miss Clairville has been cruelly +treated. Her brother to marry, to marry, look you, ma'am, with one of +a menial family--'twas hard on one by nature so genteel, and the manner +of her long sickness was not to be wondered at; had she only gone +through the form of marriage with the one her heart was interested in +and then lost him the next moment; I think I may say, without fear of +exaggeration, she would then have had something to live for; she could +have claimed his money. But no marriage, no man, no money--and in +place of it all, sickness and poverty and the care of the unwelcome +child--why, I've never known a harder thing!" + +Crabbe's expectations had often been referred to among the villagers +and had grown to astonishing dimensions in the minds of the simple, but +the idea of Miss Clairville's share in them was new and afforded plenty +of material for conjecture. + +"Though what a lone thing like her would have done with all that money, +I cannot think!" said Mrs. Enderby, who in company with Mrs. Abercorn +had always harboured a suspicious and jealous dislike of the handsome +and dashing Pauline. + +"Cannot think!" echoed her husband. "Why, them's the ones to know what +to do with any power of money coming to them. I'll warrant she has had +plans enough, to keep the old place up, maybe, to dress herself and +travel to foreign lands and never act no more. That would all take +money, bless ye! Before I settled here, as some of ye know, I kept +butcher shop in Blandville, a bigger place far, than this, all English +and all so pleasant too, so--so equalizing like, that when parties did +run into debt (and some were pretty deep in my books) you could almost +forgive it to them, they were so plausible and polite about it. Eighty +dollars a month was what one family took out in the best meats +procurable and 'ow could you refuse it, knowing they were not going to +run away owing it! 'Some day, Mr. Enderby,' they would say, 'you shall +have it. You shall 'ave it, sir, some day.'" + +"And did you ever get it?" said a thin woman, the Hawthorne milliner, +edging to the front of the group in some anxiety. "Did you?" + +"I did, ma'am. They owned considerable property round about there, and +when they wanted anything they would sell off a little, piece by piece. +Just as they needed things they sold it, and by and by they came to me +and my little account was paid off--honourable." + +"All at once?" said the anxious woman, and Enderby nodded. + +"What a state of things though!" remarked his wife. "I remember it +quite distinctly. When they wanted to give a party they would sell off +a piece of land, or when they needed a new carpet. 'Twould make me so +nervous like." + +"So it would me," said the milliner, "so it would me." + +"Because you were not born to it. It's what you must expect from the +gentry." + +"Gentry? There's not many around here, but I recognize them when I +meet them and the lady at the Manor House is one of them and I'm sorry +for her, ma'am, in her disappointment and sickness." + +"Who is that you are sorry for, Enderby?" said Mrs. Abercorn shrilly, +having caught some of his remarks. "And how do you come to be talking +about gentry of all things! My good man, if you are alluding to Miss +Clairville, let me tell you she got just what she deserved." + +And directly a chorus arose, chiefly from the feminine voices present: +"Just what she deserved. She got just what she deserved." + +The state of affairs at Clairville was much as described; Pauline, +during her long, dreary convalescence, gave no sign of temper or of +suffering, but had apparently changed to a listless, weak, silent +creature, occupied almost altogether with her own thoughts, by turns +ignoring and passively tolerating her sister-in-law and the child. The +latter grew brighter and stronger every day, and Dr. Renaud was of the +opinion that she would live to womanhood and become physically fit in +many ways, although retaining her deformity, and even achieve some +professional success, as her talent for the pencil was of unusual +order. Sadie Cordova and her children were firmly established at +Poussette's, and this chronicle would be incomplete without a glance at +the future of the good-hearted couple. Poussette, who had never meant +any harm either in the case of Miss Clairville or Miss Cordova, +appeared to be considerably impressed by the events of a certain +winter, and after the arrival of Maisie and Jack treated them as his +own and gave up the idea of a divorce. The pranks and escapades of two +irresponsible, spoilt and active children kept him on the look-out a +good deal of his time, and before very long he had decided that +children after all were occasionally in the way, and like other good +things on this earth, best had in moderation. Still, he never failed +to treat them with all kindness, and towards their mother he remained +to the last, upon hearing her story of two cruel husbands, one of whom +might claim her any day, the very pattern of chivalrous honour. Who +shall pronounce the final word as to happiness--the quest of it, the +failure to find it, the rapture with which it sometimes announces +itself attained! This is no morbid tale, after all, although we may +have lingered at times over scenes neither pleasant nor cheerful, for +behold!--Mme. Poussette is happy, in her hospital: Dr. Renaud is happy +among his patients; Angeel is deliriously happy, with her crayons and +paper; all the Archambaults are happy; Maisie and Jack, Poussette and +Miss Cordova are all happy, happy in their rude health, with plenty of +good food, fun and excitement; even Father Rielle is happy, in his +work, having conquered his passion for Miss Clairville, and perhaps +when a few years have flown and her health is restored the dweller +against her will in the gloomy house of her fathers will emerge from +her torpor and engage in some active work that will afford her restless +spirit a measure of happiness. Often she cries in the dead of night:-- + +"Have I deserved this? Have I done wrong that I am punished like +this?" and she answers herself, saying: "Yes, I did wrong, although not +so wrong as others, and therefore am I punished." No other answer ever +occurs to her, and all she knows is that she must work out her fate as +best she can and try and be kinder to the child. + +And Ringfield--is he happy, behind his high wall, listening for the +solemn bell, kneeling on the cold floor, sleeping on the hard bed, +working in the quiet garden? No one knows, for where he entered we do +not enter, and if we did we should not be able to distinguish him from +his brother monks, all clad alike, all silent, all concentrated on the +duty of the moment. + +The Church of Rome has him and she will keep him--we may be sure of +that. _Ainsi soit-il_. + + + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Ringfield, by Susie Frances Harrison + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RINGFIELD *** + +***** This file should be named 26768.txt or 26768.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/6/7/6/26768/ + +Produced by Al Haines + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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