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diff --git a/5341-h/5341-h.htm b/5341-h/5341-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d8f383f --- /dev/null +++ b/5341-h/5341-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,5603 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + Kilmeny of the Orchard, by L. M. Montgomery + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> + + +<pre> + +Project Gutenberg's Kilmeny of the Orchard, by Lucy Maud Montgomery + +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: Kilmeny of the Orchard + +Author: Lucy Maud Montgomery + + +Release Date: March, 2004 [EBook #5341] +This file was first posted on July 2, 2002 +Last Updated: October 6, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK KILMENY OF THE ORCHARD *** + + + + +Text file produced by Elizabeth Morton, Mary Mark Ockerbloom, and Ben Crowder + +HTML file produced by David Widger + + + +</pre> + + <div style="height: 8em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + KILMENY OF THE ORCHARD + </h1> + <h2> + By L. M. MONTGOMERY + </h2> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h5> + Author of “Anne’s House of Dreams,” “Rainbow Valley,"<br /> “Rilla of + Ingleside,” etc. + </h5> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <blockquote> + <p> + <b>Transcriber’s Note:</b> <br /> <br /> This book has been put on-line as + part of the BUILD-A-BOOK Initiative at the Celebration of Women Writers + through the combined work of Elizabeth Morton and Mary Mark Ockerbloom. + <br /> <br /> http://digital.library.upenn.edu/women/ <br /> <br /> + Reformatted by Ben Crowder + </p> + </blockquote> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h4> + TO MY COUSIN <br /> <br /> Beatrice A. McIntyre <br /> <br /> THIS BOOK <br /> + <br /> IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + “Kilmeny looked up with a lovely grace, + But nae smile was seen on Kilmeny’s face; + As still was her look, and as still was her ee, + As the stillness that lay on the emerant lea, + Or the mist that sleeps on a waveless sea. + . . . . . . . . . . . . . + Such beauty bard may never declare, + For there was no pride nor passion there; + . . . . . . . . . . . . . + Her seymar was the lily flower, + And her cheek the moss-rose in the shower; + And her voice like the distant melodye + That floats along the twilight sea.” + + — <i>The Queen’s Wake</i> + JAMES HOGG + +</pre> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <p> + <b>CONTENTS</b> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. THE THOUGHTS OF YOUTH </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II. A LETTER OF DESTINY </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III. THE MASTER OF LINDSAY SCHOOL </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV. A TEA TABLE CONVERSATION </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V. A PHANTOM OF DELIGHT </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI. THE STORY OF KILMENY </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII. A ROSE OF WOMANHOOD </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII. AT THE GATE OF EDEN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX. THE STRAIGHT SIMPLICITY OF EVE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X. A TROUBLING OF THE WATERS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI. A LOVER AND HIS LASS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII. A PRISONER OF LOVE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII. A SWEETER WOMAN NE’ER DREW BREATH + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV. IN HER SELFLESS MOOD </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV. AN OLD, UNHAPPY, FAR-OFF THING </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI. DAVID BAKER’S OPINION </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII. A BROKEN FETTER </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII. NEIL GORDON SOLVES HIS OWN PROBLEM + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX. VICTOR FROM VANQUISHED ISSUES </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h1> + KILMENY OF THE ORCHARD + </h1> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. THE THOUGHTS OF YOUTH + </h2> + <p> + The sunshine of a day in early spring, honey pale and honey sweet, was + showering over the red brick buildings of Queenslea College and the + grounds about them, throwing through the bare, budding maples and elms, + delicate, evasive etchings of gold and brown on the paths, and coaxing + into life the daffodils that were peering greenly and perkily up under the + windows of the co-eds’ dressing-room. + </p> + <p> + A young April wind, as fresh and sweet as if it had been blowing over the + fields of memory instead of through dingy streets, was purring in the + tree-tops and whipping the loose tendrils of the ivy network which covered + the front of the main building. It was a wind that sang of many things, + but what it sang to each listener was only what was in that listener’s + heart. To the college students who had just been capped and diplomad by + “Old Charlie,” the grave president of Queenslea, in the presence of an + admiring throng of parents and sisters, sweethearts and friends, it sang, + perchance, of glad hope and shining success and high achievement. It sang + of the dreams of youth that may never be quite fulfilled, but are well + worth the dreaming for all that. God help the man who has never known such + dreams—who, as he leaves his alma mater, is not already rich in + aerial castles, the proprietor of many a spacious estate in Spain. He has + missed his birthright. + </p> + <p> + The crowd streamed out of the entrance hall and scattered over the campus, + fraying off into the many streets beyond. Eric Marshall and David Baker + walked away together. The former had graduated in Arts that day at the + head of his class; the latter had come to see the graduation, nearly + bursting with pride in Eric’s success. + </p> + <p> + Between these two was an old and tried and enduring friendship, although + David was ten years older than Eric, as the mere tale of years goes, and a + hundred years older in knowledge of the struggles and difficulties of life + which age a man far more quickly and effectually than the passing of time. + </p> + <p> + Physically the two men bore no resemblance to one another, although they + were second cousins. Eric Marshall, tall, broad-shouldered, sinewy, + walking with a free, easy stride, which was somehow suggestive of reserve + strength and power, was one of those men regarding whom less-favoured + mortals are tempted seriously to wonder why all the gifts of fortune + should be showered on one individual. He was not only clever and good to + look upon, but he possessed that indefinable charm of personality which is + quite independent of physical beauty or mental ability. He had steady, + grayish-blue eyes, dark chestnut hair with a glint of gold in its waves + when the sunlight struck it, and a chin that gave the world assurance of a + chin. He was a rich man’s son, with a clean young manhood behind him and + splendid prospects before him. He was considered a practical sort of + fellow, utterly guiltless of romantic dreams and visions of any sort. + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid Eric Marshall will never do one quixotic thing,” said a + Queenslea professor, who had a habit of uttering rather mysterious + epigrams, “but if he ever does it will supply the one thing lacking in + him.” + </p> + <p> + David Baker was a short, stocky fellow with an ugly, irregular, charming + face; his eyes were brown and keen and secretive; his mouth had a comical + twist which became sarcastic, or teasing, or winning, as he willed. His + voice was generally as soft and musical as a woman’s; but some few who had + seen David Baker righteously angry and heard the tones which then issued + from his lips were in no hurry to have the experience repeated. + </p> + <p> + He was a doctor—a specialist in troubles of the throat and voice—and + he was beginning to have a national reputation. He was on the staff of the + Queenslea Medical College and it was whispered that before long he would + be called to fill an important vacancy at McGill. + </p> + <p> + He had won his way to success through difficulties and drawbacks which + would have daunted most men. In the year Eric was born David Baker was an + errand boy in the big department store of Marshall & Company. Thirteen + years later he graduated with high honors from Queenslea Medical College. + Mr. Marshall had given him all the help which David’s sturdy pride could + be induced to accept, and now he insisted on sending the young man abroad + for a post-graduate course in London and Germany. David Baker had + eventually repaid every cent Mr. Marshall had expended on him; but he + never ceased to cherish a passionate gratitude to the kind and generous + man; and he loved that man’s son with a love surpassing that of brothers. + </p> + <p> + He had followed Eric’s college course with keen, watchful interest. It was + his wish that Eric should take up the study of law or medicine now that he + was through Arts; and he was greatly disappointed that Eric should have + finally made up his mind to go into business with his father. + </p> + <p> + “It’s a clean waste of your talents,” he grumbled, as they walked home + from the college. “You’d win fame and distinction in law—that glib + tongue of yours was meant for a lawyer and it is sheer flying in the face + of Providence to devote it to commercial uses—a flat crossing of the + purposes of destiny. Where is your ambition, man?” + </p> + <p> + “In the right place,” answered Eric, with his ready laugh. “It is not your + kind, perhaps, but there is room and need for all kinds in this lusty + young country of ours. Yes, I am going into the business. In the first + place, it has been father’s cherished desire ever since I was born, and it + would hurt him pretty badly if I backed out now. He wished me to take an + Arts course because he believed that every man should have as liberal an + education as he can afford to get, but now that I have had it he wants me + in the firm.” + </p> + <p> + “He wouldn’t oppose you if he thought you really wanted to go in for + something else.” + </p> + <p> + “Not he. But I don’t really want to—that’s the point, David, man. + You hate a business life so much yourself that you can’t get it into your + blessed noddle that another man might like it. There are many lawyers in + the world—too many, perhaps—but there are never too many good + honest men of business, ready to do clean big things for the betterment of + humanity and the upbuilding of their country, to plan great enterprises + and carry them through with brain and courage, to manage and control, to + aim high and strike one’s aim. There, I’m waxing eloquent, so I’d better + stop. But ambition, man! Why, I’m full of it—it’s bubbling in every + pore of me. I mean to make the department store of Marshall & Company + famous from ocean to ocean. Father started in life as a poor boy from a + Nova Scotian farm. He has built up a business that has a provincial + reputation. I mean to carry it on. In five years it shall have a maritime + reputation, in ten, a Canadian. I want to make the firm of Marshall & + Company stand for something big in the commercial interests of Canada. + Isn’t that as honourable an ambition as trying to make black seem white in + a court of law, or discovering some new disease with a harrowing name to + torment poor creatures who might otherwise die peacefully in blissful + ignorance of what ailed them?” + </p> + <p> + “When you begin to make poor jokes it is time to stop arguing with you,” + said David, with a shrug of his fat shoulders. “Go your own gait and dree + your own weird. I’d as soon expect success in trying to storm the citadel + single-handed as in trying to turn you from any course about which you had + once made up your mind. Whew, this street takes it out of a fellow! What + could have possessed our ancestors to run a town up the side of a hill? + I’m not so slim and active as I was on MY graduation day ten years ago. By + the way, what a lot of co-eds were in your class—twenty, if I + counted right. When I graduated there were only two ladies in our class + and they were the pioneers of their sex at Queenslea. They were well past + their first youth, very grim and angular and serious; and they could never + have been on speaking terms with a mirror in their best days. But mark + you, they were excellent females—oh, very excellent. Times have + changed with a vengeance, judging from the line-up of co-eds to-day. There + was one girl there who can’t be a day over eighteen—and she looked + as if she were made out of gold and roseleaves and dewdrops.” + </p> + <p> + “The oracle speaks in poetry,” laughed Eric. “That was Florence Percival, + who led the class in mathematics, as I’m a living man. By many she is + considered the beauty of her class. I can’t say that such is my opinion. I + don’t greatly care for that blonde, babyish style of loveliness—I + prefer Agnes Campion. Did you notice her—the tall, dark girl with + the ropes of hair and a sort of crimson, velvety bloom on her face, who + took honours in philosophy?” + </p> + <p> + “I DID notice her,” said David emphatically, darting a keen side glance at + his friend. “I noticed her most particularly and critically—for + someone whispered her name behind me and coupled it with the exceedingly + interesting information that Miss Campion was supposed to be the future + Mrs. Eric Marshall. Whereupon I stared at her with all my eyes.” + </p> + <p> + “There is no truth in that report,” said Eric in a tone of annoyance. + “Agnes and I are the best of friends and nothing more. I like and admire + her more than any woman I know; but if the future Mrs. Eric Marshall + exists in the flesh I haven’t met her yet. I haven’t even started out to + look for her—and don’t intend to for some years to come. I have + something else to think of,” he concluded, in a tone of contempt, for + which anyone might have known he would be punished sometime if Cupid were + not deaf as well as blind. + </p> + <p> + “You’ll meet the lady of the future some day,” said David dryly. “And in + spite of your scorn I venture to predict that if fate doesn’t bring her + before long you’ll very soon start out to look for her. A word of advice, + oh, son of your mother. When you go courting take your common sense with + you.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think I shall be likely to leave it behind?” asked Eric amusedly. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I mistrust you,” said David, sagely wagging his head. “The Lowland + Scotch part of you is all right, but there’s a Celtic streak in you, from + that little Highland grandmother of yours, and when a man has that there’s + never any knowing where it will break out, or what dance it will lead him, + especially when it comes to this love-making business. You are just as + likely as not to lose your head over some little fool or shrew for the + sake of her outward favour and make yourself miserable for life. When you + pick you a wife please remember that I shall reserve the right to pass a + candid opinion on her.” + </p> + <p> + “Pass all the opinions you like, but it is MY opinion, and mine only, + which will matter in the long run,” retorted Eric. + </p> + <p> + “Confound you, yes, you stubborn offshoot of a stubborn breed,” growled + David, looking at him affectionately. “I know that, and that is why I’ll + never feel at ease about you until I see you married to the right sort of + a girl. She’s not hard to find. Nine out of ten girls in this country of + ours are fit for kings’ palaces. But the tenth always has to be reckoned + with.” + </p> + <p> + “You are as bad as <i>Clever Alice</i> in the fairy tale who worried over + the future of her unborn children,” protested Eric. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Clever Alice</i> has been very unjustly laughed at,” said David + gravely. “We doctors know that. Perhaps she overdid the worrying business + a little, but she was perfectly right in principle. If people worried a + little more about their unborn children—at least, to the extent of + providing a proper heritage, physically, mentally, and morally, for them—and + then stopped worrying about them after they ARE born, this world would be + a very much pleasanter place to live in, and the human race would make + more progress in a generation than it has done in recorded history.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, if you are going to mount your dearly beloved hobby of heredity I am + not going to argue with you, David, man. But as for the matter of urging + me to hasten and marry me a wife, why don’t you”—It was on Eric’s + lips to say, “Why don’t you get married to a girl of the right sort + yourself and set me a good example?” But he checked himself. He knew that + there was an old sorrow in David Baker’s life which was not to be unduly + jarred by the jests even of privileged friendship. He changed his question + to, “Why don’t you leave this on the knees of the gods where it properly + belongs? I thought you were a firm believer in predestination, David.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, so I am, to a certain extent,” said David cautiously. “I believe, + as an excellent old aunt of mine used to say, that what is to be will be + and what isn’t to be happens sometimes. And it is precisely such unchancy + happenings that make the scheme of things go wrong. I dare say you think + me an old fogy, Eric; but I know something more of the world than you do, + and I believe, with Tennyson’s <i>Arthur</i>, that ‘there’s no more subtle + master under heaven than is the maiden passion for a maid.’ I want to see + you safely anchored to the love of some good woman as soon as may be, + that’s all. I’m rather sorry Miss Campion isn’t your lady of the future. I + liked her looks, that I did. She is good and strong and true—and has + the eyes of a woman who could love in a way that would be worth while. + Moreover, she’s well-born, well-bred, and well-educated—three very + indispensable things when it comes to choosing a woman to fill your + mother’s place, friend of mine!” + </p> + <p> + “I agree with you,” said Eric carelessly. “I could not marry any woman who + did not fulfill those conditions. But, as I have said, I am not in love + with Agnes Campion—and it wouldn’t be of any use if I were. She is + as good as engaged to Larry West. You remember West?” + </p> + <p> + “That thin, leggy fellow you chummed with so much your first two years in + Queenslea? Yes, what has become of him?” + </p> + <p> + “He had to drop out after his second year for financial reasons. He is + working his own way through college, you know. For the past two years he + has been teaching school in some out-of-the-way place over in Prince + Edward Island. He isn’t any too well, poor fellow—never was very + strong and has studied remorselessly. I haven’t heard from him since + February. He said then that he was afraid he wasn’t going to be able to + stick it out till the end of the school year. I hope Larry won’t break + down. He is a fine fellow and worthy even of Agnes Campion. Well, here we + are. Coming in, David?” + </p> + <p> + “Not this afternoon—haven’t got time. I must mosey up to the North + End to see a man who has got a lovely throat. Nobody can find out what is + the matter. He has puzzled all the doctors. He has puzzled me, but I’ll + find out what is wrong with him if he’ll only live long enough.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II. A LETTER OF DESTINY + </h2> + <p> + Eric, finding that his father had not yet returned from the college, went + into the library and sat down to read a letter he had picked up from the + hall table. It was from Larry West, and after the first few lines Eric’s + face lost the absent look it had worn and assumed an expression of + interest. + </p> + <p> + “I am writing to ask a favour of you, Marshall,” wrote West. “The fact is, + I’ve fallen into the hands of the Philistines—that is to say, the + doctors. I’ve not been feeling very fit all winter but I’ve held on, + hoping to finish out the year. + </p> + <p> + “Last week my landlady—who is a saint in spectacles and calico—looked + at me one morning at the breakfast table and said, VERY gently, ‘You must + go to town to-morrow, Master, and see a doctor about yourself.’ + </p> + <p> + “I went and did not stand upon the order of my going. Mrs. Williamson is + She-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed. She has an inconvenient habit of making you + realize that she is exactly right, and that you would be all kinds of a + fool if you didn’t take her advice. You feel that what she thinks to-day + you will think to-morrow. + </p> + <p> + “In Charlottetown I consulted a doctor. He punched and pounded me, and + poked things at me and listened at the other end of them; and finally he + said I must stop work ‘immejutly and to onct’ and hie me straightway to a + climate not afflicted with the north-east winds of Prince Edward Island in + the spring. I am not to be allowed to do any work until the fall. Such was + his dictum and Mrs. Williamson enforces it. + </p> + <p> + “I shall teach this week out and then the spring vacation of three weeks + begins. I want you to come over and take my place as pedagogue in the + Lindsay school for the last week in May and the month of June. The school + year ends then and there will be plenty of teachers looking for the place, + but just now I cannot get a suitable substitute. I have a couple of pupils + who are preparing to try the Queen’s Academy entrance examinations, and I + don’t like to leave them in the lurch or hand them over to the tender + mercies of some third-class teacher who knows little Latin and less Greek. + Come over and take the school till the end of the term, you petted son of + luxury. It will do you a world of good to learn how rich a man feels when + he is earning twenty-five dollars a month by his own unaided efforts! + </p> + <p> + “Seriously, Marshall, I hope you can come, for I don’t know any other + fellow I can ask. The work isn’t hard, though you’ll likely find it + monotonous. Of course, this little north-shore farming settlement isn’t a + very lively place. The rising and setting of the sun are the most exciting + events of the average day. But the people are very kind and hospitable; + and Prince Edward Island in the month of June is such a thing as you don’t + often see except in happy dreams. There are some trout in the pond and + you’ll always find an old salt at the harbour ready and willing to take + you out cod-fishing or lobstering. + </p> + <p> + “I’ll bequeath you my boarding house. You’ll find it comfortable and not + further from the school than a good constitutional. Mrs. Williamson is the + dearest soul alive; and she is one of those old-fashioned cooks who feed + you on feasts of fat things and whose price is above rubies. + </p> + <p> + “Her husband, Robert, or Bob, as he is commonly called despite his sixty + years, is quite a character in his way. He is an amusing old gossip, with + a turn for racy comment and a finger in everybody’s pie. He knows + everything about everybody in Lindsay for three generations back. + </p> + <p> + “They have no living children, but Old Bob has a black cat which is his + especial pride and darling. The name of this animal is Timothy and as such + he must always be called and referred to. Never, as you value Robert’s + good opinion, let him hear you speaking of his pet as ‘the cat,’ or even + as ‘Tim.’ You will never be forgiven and he will not consider you a fit + person to have charge of the school. + </p> + <p> + “You shall have my room, a little place over the kitchen, with a ceiling + that follows the slant of the roof down one side, against which you will + bump your head times innumerable until you learn to remember that it is + there, and a looking glass which will make one of your eyes as small as a + pea and the other as big as an orange. + </p> + <p> + “But to compensate for these disadvantages the supply of towels is + generous and unexceptionable; and there is a window whence you will daily + behold an occidental view over Lindsay Harbour and the gulf beyond which + is an unspeakable miracle of beauty. The sun is setting over it as I write + and I see such a sea of glass mingled with fire as might have figured in + the visions of the Patmian seer. A vessel is sailing away into the gold + and crimson and pearl of the horizon; the big revolving light on the tip + of the headland beyond the harbour has just been lighted and is winking + and flashing like a beacon, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “‘O’er the foam + Of perilous seas in faerie lands forlorn.’” + </pre> + <p> + “Wire me if you can come; and if you can, report for duty on the + twenty-third of May.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Marshall, Senior, came in, just as Eric was thoughtfully folding up + his letter. The former looked more like a benevolent old clergyman or + philanthropist than the keen, shrewd, somewhat hard, although just and + honest, man of business that he really was. He had a round, rosy face, + fringed with white whiskers, a fine head of long white hair, and a + pursed-up mouth. Only in his blue eyes was a twinkle that would have made + any man who designed getting the better of him in a bargain think twice + before he made the attempt. + </p> + <p> + It was easily seen that Eric must have inherited his personal beauty and + distinction of form from his mother, whose picture hung on the dark wall + between the windows. She had died while still young, when Eric was a boy + of ten. During her lifetime she had been the object of the passionate + devotion of both her husband and son; and the fine, strong, sweet face of + the picture was a testimony that she had been worthy of their love and + reverence. The same face, cast in a masculine mold, was repeated in Eric; + the chestnut hair grew off his forehead in the same way; his eyes were + like hers, and in his grave moods they held a similar expression, half + brooding, half tender, in their depths. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Marshall was very proud of his son’s success in college, but he had no + intention of letting him see it. He loved this boy of his, with the dead + mother’s eyes, better than anything on earth, and all his hopes and + ambitions were bound up in him. + </p> + <p> + “Well, that fuss is over, thank goodness,” he said testily, as he dropped + into his favourite chair. + </p> + <p> + “Didn’t you find the programme interesting?” asked Eric absently. + </p> + <p> + “Most of it was tommyrot,” said his father. “The only things I liked were + Charlie’s Latin prayer and those pretty little girls trotting up to get + their diplomas. Latin IS the language for praying in, I do believe,—at + least, when a man has a voice like Old Charlie’s. There was such a + sonorous roll to the words that the mere sound of them made me feel like + getting down on my marrow bones. And then those girls were as pretty as + pinks, now weren’t they? Agnes was the finest-looking of the lot in my + opinion. I hope it’s true that you’re courting her, Eric?” + </p> + <p> + “Confound it, father,” said Eric, half irritably, half laughingly, “have + you and David Baker entered into a conspiracy to hound me into matrimony + whether I will or no?” + </p> + <p> + “I’ve never said a word to David Baker on such a subject,” protested Mr. + Marshall. + </p> + <p> + “Well, you are just as bad as he is. He hectored me all the way home from + the college on the subject. But why are you in such a hurry to have me + married, dad?” + </p> + <p> + “Because I want a homemaker in this house as soon as may be. There has + never been one since your mother died. I am tired of housekeepers. And I + want to see your children at my knees before I die, Eric, and I’m an old + man now.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, your wish is natural, father,” said Eric gently, with a glance at + his mother’s picture. “But I can’t rush out and marry somebody off-hand, + can I? And I fear it wouldn’t exactly do to advertise for a wife, even in + these days of commercial enterprise.” + </p> + <p> + “Isn’t there ANYBODY you’re fond of?” queried Mr. Marshall, with the + patient air of a man who overlooks the frivolous jests of youth. + </p> + <p> + “No. I never yet saw the woman who could make my heart beat any faster.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know what you young men are made of nowadays,” growled his + father. “I was in love half a dozen times before I was your age.” + </p> + <p> + “You might have been ‘in love.’ But you never LOVED any woman until you + met my mother. I know that, father. And it didn’t happen till you were + pretty well on in life either.” + </p> + <p> + “You’re too hard to please. That’s what’s the matter, that’s what’s the + matter!” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps I am. When a man has had a mother like mine his standard of + womanly sweetness is apt to be pitched pretty high. Let’s drop the + subject, father. Here, I want you to read this letter—it’s from + Larry.” + </p> + <p> + “Humph!” grunted Mr. Marshall, when he had finished with it. “So Larry’s + knocked out at last—always thought he would be—always expected + it. Sorry, too. He was a decent fellow. Well, are you going?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I think so, if you don’t object.” + </p> + <p> + “You’ll have a pretty monotonous time of it, judging from his account of + Lindsay.” + </p> + <p> + “Probably. But I am not going over in search of excitement. I’m going to + oblige Larry and have a look at the Island.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, it’s worth looking at, some parts of the year,” conceded Mr. + Marshall. “When I’m on Prince Edward Island in the summer I always + understand an old Scotch Islander I met once in Winnipeg. He was always + talking of ‘the Island.’ Somebody once asked him, ‘What island do you + mean?’ He simply LOOKED at that ignorant man. Then he said, ‘Why, Prince + Edward Island, mon. WHAT OTHER ISLAND IS THERE?’ Go if you’d like to. You + need a rest after the grind of examinations before settling down to + business. And mind you don’t get into any mischief, young sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Not much likelihood of that in a place like Lindsay, I fancy,” laughed + Eric. + </p> + <p> + “Probably the devil finds as much mischief for idle hands in Lindsay as + anywhere else. The worst tragedy I ever heard of happened on a backwoods + farm, fifteen miles from a railroad and five from a store. However, I + expect your mother’s son to behave himself in the fear of God and man. In + all likelihood the worst thing that will happen to you over there will be + that some misguided woman will put you to sleep in a spare room bed. And + if that does happen may the Lord have mercy on your soul!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III. THE MASTER OF LINDSAY SCHOOL + </h2> + <p> + One evening, a month later, Eric Marshall came out of the old, + white-washed schoolhouse at Lindsay, and locked the door—which was + carved over with initials innumerable, and built of double plank in order + that it might withstand all the assaults and batteries to which it might + be subjected. + </p> + <p> + Eric’s pupils had gone home an hour before, but he had stayed to solve + some algebra problems, and correct some Latin exercises for his advanced + students. + </p> + <p> + The sun was slanting in warm yellow lines through the thick grove of + maples to the west of the building, and the dim green air beneath them + burst into golden bloom. A couple of sheep were nibbling the lush grass in + a far corner of the play-ground; a cow-bell, somewhere in the maple woods, + tinkled faintly and musically, on the still crystal air, which, in spite + of its blandness, still retained a touch of the wholesome austerity and + poignancy of a Canadian spring. The whole world seemed to have fallen, for + the time being, into a pleasant untroubled dream. + </p> + <p> + The scene was very peaceful and pastoral—almost too much so, the + young man thought, with a shrug of his shoulders, as he stood in the worn + steps and gazed about him. How was he going to put in a whole month here, + he wondered, with a little smile at his own expense. + </p> + <p> + “Father would chuckle if he knew I was sick of it already,” he thought, as + he walked across the play-ground to the long red road that ran past the + school. “Well, one week is ended, at any rate. I’ve earned my own living + for five whole days, and that is something I could never say before in all + my twenty-four years of existence. It is an exhilarating thought. But + teaching the Lindsay district school is distinctly NOT exhilarating—at + least in such a well-behaved school as this, where the pupils are so + painfully good that I haven’t even the traditional excitement of thrashing + obstreperous bad boys. Everything seems to go by clock work in Lindsay + educational institution. Larry must certainly have possessed a marked gift + for organizing and drilling. I feel as if I were merely a big cog in an + orderly machine that ran itself. However, I understand that there are some + pupils who haven’t shown up yet, and who, according to all reports, have + not yet had the old Adam totally drilled out of them. They may make things + more interesting. Also a few more compositions, such as John Reid’s, would + furnish some spice to professional life.” + </p> + <p> + Eric’s laughter wakened the echoes as he swung into the road down the long + sloping hill. He had given his fourth grade pupils their own choice of + subjects in the composition class that morning, and John Reid, a sober, + matter-of-fact little urchin, with not the slightest embryonic development + of a sense of humour, had, acting upon the whispered suggestion of a + roguish desk-mate, elected to write upon “Courting.” His opening sentence + made Eric’s face twitch mutinously whenever he recalled it during the day. + “Courting is a very pleasant thing which a great many people go too far + with.” + </p> + <p> + The distant hills and wooded uplands were tremulous and aerial in delicate + spring-time gauzes of pearl and purple. The young, green-leafed maples + crowded thickly to the very edge of the road on either side, but beyond + them were emerald fields basking in sunshine, over which cloud shadows + rolled, broadened, and vanished. Far below the fields a calm ocean slept + bluely, and sighed in its sleep, with the murmur that rings for ever in + the ear of those whose good fortune it is to have been born within the + sound of it. + </p> + <p> + Now and then Eric met some callow, check-shirted, bare-legged lad on + horseback, or a shrewd-faced farmer in a cart, who nodded and called out + cheerily, “Howdy, Master?” A young girl, with a rosy, oval face, dimpled + cheeks, and pretty dark eyes filled with shy coquetry, passed him, looking + as if she would not be at all averse to a better acquaintance with the new + teacher. + </p> + <p> + Half way down the hill Eric met a shambling, old gray horse drawing an + express wagon which had seen better days. The driver was a woman: she + appeared to be one of those drab-tinted individuals who can never have + felt a rosy emotion in all their lives. She stopped her horse, and + beckoned Eric over to her with the knobby handle of a faded and bony + umbrella. + </p> + <p> + “Reckon you’re the new Master, ain’t you?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + Eric admitted that he was. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I’m glad to see you,” she said, offering him a hand in a much + darned cotton glove that had once been black. + </p> + <p> + “I was right sorry to see Mr. West go, for he was a right good teacher, + and as harmless, inoffensive a creetur as ever lived. But I always told + him every time I laid eyes on him that he was in consumption, if ever a + man was. YOU look real healthy—though you can’t aways tell by looks, + either. I had a brother complected like you, but he was killed in a + railroad accident out west when he was real young. + </p> + <p> + “I’ve got a boy I’ll be sending to school to you next week. He’d oughter + gone this week, but I had to keep him home to help me put the pertaters + in; for his father won’t work and doesn’t work and can’t be made to work. + </p> + <p> + “Sandy—his full name is Edward Alexander—called after both his + grandfathers—hates the idee of going to school worse ‘n pisen—always + did. But go he shall, for I’m determined he’s got to have more larning + hammered into his head yet. I reckon you’ll have trouble with him, Master, + for he’s as stupid as an owl, and as stubborn as Solomon’s mule. But mind + this, Master, I’ll back you up. You just lick Sandy good and plenty when + he needs it, and send me a scrape of the pen home with him, and I’ll give + him another dose. + </p> + <p> + “There’s people that always sides in with their young ones when there’s + any rumpus kicked up in the school, but I don’t hold to that, and never + did. You can depend on Rebecca Reid every time, Master.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you. I am sure I can,” said Eric, in his most winning tones. + </p> + <p> + He kept his face straight until it was safe to relax, and Mrs. Reid drove + on with a soft feeling in her leathery old heart, which had been so + toughened by long endurance of poverty and toil, and a husband who + wouldn’t work and couldn’t be made to work, that it was no longer a very + susceptible organ where members of the opposite sex were concerned. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Reid reflected that this young man had a way with him. + </p> + <p> + Eric already knew most of the Lindsay folks by sight; but at the foot of + the hill he met two people, a man and a boy, whom he did not know. They + were sitting in a shabby, old-fashioned wagon, and were watering their + horse at the brook, which gurgled limpidly under the little plank bridge + in the hollow. + </p> + <p> + Eric surveyed them with some curiosity. They did not look in the least + like the ordinary run of Lindsay people. The boy, in particular, had a + distinctly foreign appearance, in spite of the gingham shirt and homespun + trousers, which seemed to be the regulation, work-a-day outfit for the + Lindsay farmer lads. He had a lithe, supple body, with sloping shoulders, + and a lean, satiny brown throat above his open shirt collar. His head was + covered with thick, silky, black curls, and the hand that hung down by the + side of the wagon was unusually long and slender. His face was richly, + though somewhat heavily featured, olive tinted, save for the cheeks, which + had a dusky crimson bloom. His mouth was as red and beguiling as a girl’s, + and his eyes were large, bold and black. All in all, he was a strikingly + handsome fellow; but the expression of his face was sullen, and he somehow + gave Eric the impression of a sinuous, feline creature basking in lazy + grace, but ever ready for an unexpected spring. + </p> + <p> + The other occupant of the wagon was a man between sixty-five and seventy, + with iron-gray hair, a long, full, gray beard, a harsh-featured face, and + deep-set hazel eyes under bushy, bristling brows. He was evidently tall, + with a spare, ungainly figure, and stooping shoulders. His mouth was + close-lipped and relentless, and did not look as if it had ever smiled. + Indeed, the idea of smiling could not be connected with this man—it + was utterly incongruous. Yet there was nothing repellent about his face; + and there was something in it that compelled Eric’s attention. + </p> + <p> + He rather prided himself on being a student of physiognomy, and he felt + quite sure that this man was no ordinary Lindsay farmer of the genial, + garrulous type with which he was familiar. + </p> + <p> + Long after the old wagon, with its oddly assorted pair, had gone lumbering + up the hill, Eric found himself thinking of the stern, heavy browed man + and the black-eyed, red-lipped boy. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV. A TEA TABLE CONVERSATION + </h2> + <p> + The Williamson place, where Eric boarded, was on the crest of the + succeeding hill. He liked it as well as Larry West had prophesied that he + would. The Williamsons, as well as the rest of the Lindsay people, took it + for granted that he was a poor college student working his way through as + Larry West had been doing. Eric did not disturb this belief, although he + said nothing to contribute to it. + </p> + <p> + The Williamsons were at tea in the kitchen when Eric went in. Mrs. + Williamson was the “saint in spectacles and calico” which Larry West had + termed her. Eric liked her greatly. She was a slight, gray-haired woman, + with a thin, sweet, high-bred face, deeply lined with the records of + outlived pain. She talked little as a rule; but, in the pungent country + phrase she never spoke but she said something. The one thing that + constantly puzzled Eric was how such a woman ever came to marry Robert + Williamson. + </p> + <p> + She smiled in a motherly fashion at Eric, as he hung his hat on the + white-washed wall and took his place at the table. Outside of the window + behind him was a birch grove which, in the westering sun, was a tremulous + splendour, with a sea of undergrowth wavered into golden billows by every + passing wind. + </p> + <p> + Old Robert Williamson sat opposite him, on a bench. He was a small, lean + old man, half lost in loose clothes that seemed far too large for him. + When he spoke his voice was as thin and squeaky as he appeared to be + himself. + </p> + <p> + The other end of the bench was occupied by Timothy, sleek and complacent, + with a snowy breast and white paws. After old Robert had taken a mouthful + of anything he gave a piece to Timothy, who ate it daintily and purred + resonant gratitude. + </p> + <p> + “You see we’re busy waiting for you, Master,” said old Robert. “You’re + late this evening. Keep any of the youngsters in? That’s a foolish way of + punishing them, as hard on yourself as on them. One teacher we had four + years ago used to lock them in and go home. Then he’d go back in an hour + and let them out—if they were there. They weren’t always. Tom + Ferguson kicked the panels out of the old door once and got out that way. + We put a new door of double plank in that they couldn’t kick out.” + </p> + <p> + “I stayed in the schoolroom to do some work,” said Eric briefly. + </p> + <p> + “Well, you’ve missed Alexander Tracy. He was here to find out if you could + play checkers, and, when I told him you could, he left word for you to go + up and have a game some evening soon. Don’t beat him too often, even if + you can. You’ll need to stand in with him, I tell you, Master, for he’s + got a son that may brew trouble for you when he starts in to go to school. + Seth Tracy’s a young imp, and he’d far sooner be in mischief than eat. He + tries to run on every new teacher and he’s run two clean out of the + school. But he met his match in Mr. West. William Tracy’s boys now—you + won’t have a scrap of bother with THEM. They’re always good because their + mother tells them every Sunday that they’ll go straight to hell if they + don’t behave in school. It’s effective. Take some preserve, Master. You + know we don’t help things here the way Mrs. Adam Scott does when she has + boarders, ‘I s’pose you don’t want any of this—nor you—nor + you?’ Mother, Aleck says old George Wright is having the time of his life. + His wife has gone to Charlottetown to visit her sister and he is his own + boss for the first time since he was married, forty years ago. He’s on a + regular orgy, Aleck says. He smokes in the parlour and sits up till eleven + o’clock reading dime novels.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps I met Mr. Tracy,” said Eric. “Is he a tall man, with gray hair + and a dark, stern face?” + </p> + <p> + “No, he’s a round, jolly fellow, is Aleck, and he stopped growing pretty + much before he’d ever begun. I reckon the man you mean is Thomas Gordon. I + seen him driving down the road too. HE won’t be troubling you with + invitations up, small fear of it. The Gordons ain’t sociable, to say the + least of it. No, sir! Mother, pass the biscuits to the Master.” + </p> + <p> + “Who was the young fellow he had with him?” asked Eric curiously. + </p> + <p> + “Neil—Neil Gordon.” + </p> + <p> + “That is a Scotchy name for such a face and eyes. I should rather have + expected Guiseppe or Angelo. The boy looks like an Italian.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, now, you know, Master, I reckon it’s likely he does, seeing that + that’s exactly what he is. You’ve hit the nail square on the head. + Italyun, yes, sir! Rather too much so, I’m thinking, for decent folks’ + taste.” + </p> + <p> + “How has it happened that an Italian boy with a Scotch name is living in a + place like Lindsay?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Master, it was this way. About twenty-two years ago—WAS it + twenty-two, Mother or twenty-four? Yes, it was twenty-two—‘twas the + same year our Jim was born and he’d have been twenty-two if he’d lived, + poor little fellow. Well, Master, twenty-two years ago a couple of Italian + pack peddlers came along and called at the Gordon place. The country was + swarming with them then. I useter set the dog on one every day on an + average. + </p> + <p> + “Well, these peddlers were man and wife, and the woman took sick up there + at the Gordon place, and Janet Gordon took her in and nursed her. A baby + was born the next day, and the woman died. Then the first thing anybody + knew the father skipped clean out, pack and all, and was never seen or + heard tell of afterwards. The Gordons were left with the fine youngster to + their hands. Folks advised them to send him to the Orphan Asylum, and + ‘twould have been the wisest plan, but the Gordons were never fond of + taking advice. Old James Gordon was living then, Thomas and Janet’s + father, and he said he would never turn a child out of his door. He was a + masterful old man and liked to be boss. Folks used to say he had a grudge + against the sun ‘cause it rose and set without his say so. Anyhow, they + kept the baby. They called him Neil and had him baptized same as any + Christian child. He’s always lived there. They did well enough by him. He + was sent to school and taken to church and treated like one of themselves. + Some folks think they made too much of him. It doesn’t always do with that + kind, for ‘what’s bred in bone is mighty apt to come out in flesh,’ if + ‘taint kept down pretty well. Neil’s smart and a great worker, they tell + me. But folks hereabouts don’t like him. They say he ain’t to be trusted + further’n you can see him, if as far. It’s certain he’s awful hot + tempered, and one time when he was going to school he near about killed a + boy he’d took a spite to—choked him till he was black in the face + and Neil had to be dragged off.” + </p> + <p> + “Well now, father, you know they teased him terrible,” protested Mrs. + Williamson. “The poor boy had a real hard time when he went to school, + Master. The other children were always casting things up to him and + calling him names.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I daresay they tormented him a lot,” admitted her husband. “He’s a + great hand at the fiddle and likes company. He goes to the harbour a good + deal. But they say he takes sulky spells when he hasn’t a word to throw to + a dog. ‘Twouldn’t be any wonder, living with the Gordons. They’re all as + queer as Dick’s hat-band.” + </p> + <p> + “Father, you shouldn’t talk so about your neighbours,” said his wife + rebukingly. + </p> + <p> + “Well now, Mother, you know they are, if you’d only speak up honest. But + you’re like old Aunt Nancy Scott, you never say anything uncharitable + except in the way of business. You know the Gordons ain’t like other + people and never were and never will be. They’re about the only queer + folks we have in Lindsay, Master, except old Peter Cook, who keeps + twenty-five cats. Lord, Master, think of it! What chanct would a poor + mouse have? None of the rest of us are queer, leastwise, we hain’t found + it out if we are. But, then, we’re mighty uninteresting, I’m bound to + admit that.” + </p> + <p> + “Where do the Gordons live?” asked Eric, who had grown used to holding + fast to a given point of inquiry through all the bewildering mazes of old + Robert’s conversation. + </p> + <p> + “Away up yander, half a mile in from Radnor road, with a thick spruce wood + atween them and all the rest of the world. They never go away anywheres, + except to church—they never miss that—and nobody goes there. + There’s just old Thomas, and his sister Janet, and a niece of theirs, and + this here Neil we’ve been talking about. They’re a queer, dour, cranky + lot, and I WILL say it, Mother. There, give your old man a cup of tea and + never mind the way his tongue runs on. Speaking of tea, do you know Mrs. + Adam Palmer and Mrs. Jim Martin took tea together at Foster Reid’s last + Wednesday afternoon?” + </p> + <p> + “No, why, I thought they were on bad terms,” said Mrs. Williamson, + betraying a little feminine curiosity. + </p> + <p> + “So they are, so they are. But they both happened to visit Mrs. Foster the + same afternoon and neither would leave because that would be knuckling + down to the other. So they stuck it out, on opposite sides of the parlour. + Mrs. Foster says she never spent such an uncomfortable afternoon in all + her life before. She would talk a spell to one and then t’other. And they + kept talking TO Mrs. Foster and AT each other. Mrs. Foster says she really + thought she’d have to keep them all night, for neither would start to go + home afore the other. Finally Jim Martin came in to look for his wife, + ‘cause he thought she must have got stuck in the marsh, and that solved + the problem. Master, you ain’t eating anything. Don’t mind my stopping; I + was at it half an hour afore you come, and anyway I’m in a hurry. My hired + boy went home to-day. He heard the rooster crow at twelve last night and + he’s gone home to see which of his family is dead. He knows one of ‘em is. + He heard a rooster crow in the middle of the night onct afore and the next + day he got word that his second cousin down at Souris was dead. Mother, if + the Master don’t want any more tea, ain’t there some cream for Timothy?” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V. A PHANTOM OF DELIGHT + </h2> + <p> + Shortly before sunset that evening Eric went for a walk. When he did not + go to the shore he liked to indulge in long tramps through the Lindsay + fields and woods, in the mellowness of “the sweet ‘o the year.” Most of + the Lindsay houses were built along the main road, which ran parallel to + the shore, or about the stores at “The Corner.” The farms ran back from + them into solitudes of woods and pasture lands. + </p> + <p> + Eric struck southwest from the Williamson homestead, in a direction he had + not hitherto explored, and walked briskly along, enjoying the witchery of + the season all about him in earth and air and sky. He felt it and loved it + and yielded to it, as anyone of clean life and sane pulses must do. + </p> + <p> + The spruce wood in which he presently found himself was smitten through + with arrows of ruby light from the setting sun. He went through it, + walking up a long, purple aisle where the wood-floor was brown and elastic + under his feet, and came out beyond it on a scene which surprised him. + </p> + <p> + No house was in sight, but he found himself looking into an orchard; an + old orchard, evidently long neglected and forsaken. But an orchard dies + hard; and this one, which must have been a very delightful spot once, was + delightful still, none the less so for the air of gentle melancholy which + seemed to pervade it, the melancholy which invests all places that have + once been the scenes of joy and pleasure and young life, and are so no + longer, places where hearts have throbbed, and pulses thrilled, and eyes + brightened, and merry voices echoed. The ghosts of these things seem to + linger in their old haunts through many empty years. + </p> + <p> + The orchard was large and long, enclosed in a tumbledown old fence of + longers bleached to a silvery gray in the suns of many lost summers. At + regular intervals along the fence were tall, gnarled fir trees, and an + evening wind, sweeter than that which blew over the beds of spice from + Lebanon, was singing in their tops, an earth-old song with power to carry + the soul back to the dawn of time. + </p> + <p> + Eastward, a thick fir wood grew, beginning with tiny treelets just + feathering from the grass, and grading up therefrom to the tall veterans + of the mid-grove, unbrokenly and evenly, giving the effect of a solid, + sloping green wall, so beautifully compact that it looked as if it had + been clipped into its velvet surface by art. + </p> + <p> + Most of the orchard was grown over lushly with grass; but at the end where + Eric stood there was a square, treeless place which had evidently once + served as a homestead garden. Old paths were still visible, bordered by + stones and large pebbles. There were two clumps of lilac trees; one + blossoming in royal purple, the other in white. Between them was a bed + ablow with the starry spikes of June lilies. Their penetrating, haunting + fragrance distilled on the dewy air in every soft puff of wind. Along the + fence rosebushes grew, but it was as yet too early in the season for + roses. + </p> + <p> + Beyond was the orchard proper, three long rows of trees with green avenues + between, each tree standing in a wonderful blow of pink and white. + </p> + <p> + The charm of the place took sudden possession of Eric as nothing had ever + done before. He was not given to romantic fancies; but the orchard laid + hold of him subtly and drew him to itself, and he was never to be quite + his own man again. He went into it over one of the broken panels of fence, + and so, unknowing, went forward to meet all that life held for him. + </p> + <p> + He walked the length of the orchard’s middle avenue between long, sinuous + boughs picked out with delicate, rose-hearted bloom. When he reached its + southern boundary he flung himself down in a grassy corner of the fence + where another lilac bush grew, with ferns and wild blue violets at its + roots. From where he now was he got a glimpse of a house about a quarter + of a mile away, its gray gable peering out from a dark spruce wood. It + seemed a dull, gloomy, remote place, and he did not know who lived there. + </p> + <p> + He had a wide outlook to the west, over far hazy fields and misty blue + intervales. The sun had just set, and the whole world of green meadows + beyond swam in golden light. Across a long valley brimmed with shadow were + uplands of sunset, and great sky lakes of saffron and rose where a soul + might lose itself in colour. The air was very fragrant with the baptism of + the dew, and the odours of a bed of wild mint upon which he had trampled. + Robins were whistling, clear and sweet and sudden, in the woods all about + him. + </p> + <p> + “This is a veritable ‘haunt of ancient peace,’” quoted Eric, looking + around with delighted eyes. “I could fall asleep here, dream dreams and + see visions. What a sky! Could anything be diviner than that fine crystal + eastern blue, and those frail white clouds that look like woven lace? What + a dizzying, intoxicating fragrance lilacs have! I wonder if perfume could + set a man drunk. Those apple trees now—why, what is that?” + </p> + <p> + Eric started up and listened. Across the mellow stillness, mingled with + the croon of the wind in the trees and the flute-like calls of the robins, + came a strain of delicious music, so beautiful and fantastic that Eric + held his breath in astonishment and delight. Was he dreaming? No, it was + real music, the music of a violin played by some hand inspired with the + very spirit of harmony. He had never heard anything like it; and, somehow, + he felt quite sure that nothing exactly like it ever had been heard + before; he believed that that wonderful music was coming straight from the + soul of the unseen violinist, and translating itself into those most airy + and delicate and exquisite sounds for the first time; the very soul of + music, with all sense and earthliness refined away. + </p> + <p> + It was an elusive, haunting melody, strangely suited to the time and + place; it had in it the sigh of the wind in the woods, the eerie + whispering of the grasses at dewfall, the white thoughts of the June + lilies, the rejoicing of the apple blossoms; all the soul of all the old + laughter and song and tears and gladness and sobs the orchard had ever + known in the lost years; and besides all this, there was in it a pitiful, + plaintive cry as of some imprisoned thing calling for freedom and + utterance. + </p> + <p> + At first Eric listened as a man spellbound, mutely and motionlessly, lost + in wonderment. Then a very natural curiosity overcame him. Who in Lindsay + could play a violin like that? And who was playing so here, in this + deserted old orchard, of all places in the world? + </p> + <p> + He rose and walked up the long white avenue, going as slowly and silently + as possible, for he did not wish to interrupt the player. When he reached + the open space of the garden he stopped short in new amazement and was + again tempted into thinking he must certainly be dreaming. + </p> + <p> + Under the big branching white lilac tree was an old, sagging, wooden + bench; and on this bench a girl was sitting, playing on an old brown + violin. Her eyes were on the faraway horizon and she did not see Eric. For + a few moments he stood there and looked at her. The pictures she made + photographed itself on his vision to the finest detail, never to be + blotted from his book of remembrance. To his latest day Eric Marshall will + be able to recall vividly that scene as he saw it then—the velvet + darkness of the spruce woods, the overarching sky of soft brilliance, the + swaying lilac blossoms, and amid it all the girl on the old bench with the + violin under her chin. + </p> + <p> + He had, in his twenty-four years of life, met hundreds of pretty women, + scores of handsome women, a scant half dozen of really beautiful women. + But he knew at once, beyond all possibility of question or doubt, that he + had never seen or imagined anything so exquisite as this girl of the + orchard. Her loveliness was so perfect that his breath almost went from + him in his first delight of it. + </p> + <p> + Her face was oval, marked in every cameo-like line and feature with that + expression of absolute, flawless purity, found in the angels and Madonnas + of old paintings, a purity that held in it no faintest strain of + earthliness. Her head was bare, and her thick, jet-black hair was parted + above her forehead and hung in two heavy lustrous braids over her + shoulders. Her eyes were of such a blue as Eric had never seen in eyes + before, the tint of the sea in the still, calm light that follows after a + fine sunset; they were as luminous as the stars that came out over Lindsay + Harbour in the afterglow, and were fringed about with very long, + soot-black lashes, and arched over by most delicately pencilled dark + eyebrows. Her skin was as fine and purely tinted as the heart of a white + rose. The collarless dress of pale blue print she wore revealed her + smooth, slender throat; her sleeves were rolled up above her elbows and + the hand which guided the bow of her violin was perhaps the most beautiful + thing about her, perfect in shape and texture, firm and white, with + rosy-nailed taper fingers. One long, drooping plume of lilac blossom + lightly touched her hair and cast a wavering shadow over the flower-like + face beneath it. + </p> + <p> + There was something very child-like about her, and yet at least eighteen + sweet years must have gone to the making of her. She seemed to be playing + half unconsciously, as if her thoughts were far away in some fair + dreamland of the skies. But presently she looked away from “the bourne of + sunset,” and her lovely eyes fell on Eric, standing motionless before her + in the shadow of the apple tree. + </p> + <p> + The sudden change that swept over her was startling. She sprang to her + feet, the music breaking in mid-strain and the bow slipping from her hand + to the grass. Every hint of colour fled from her face and she trembled + like one of the wind-stirred June lilies. + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon,” said Eric hastily. “I am sorry that I have alarmed + you. But your music was so beautiful that I did not remember you were not + aware of my presence here. Please forgive me.” + </p> + <p> + He stopped in dismay, for he suddenly realized that the expression on the + girl’s face was one of terror—not merely the startled alarm of a + shy, childlike creature who had thought herself alone, but absolute + terror. It was betrayed in her blanched and quivering lips and in the + widely distended blue eyes that stared back into his with the expression + of some trapped wild thing. + </p> + <p> + It hurt him that any woman should look at him in such a fashion, at him + who had always held womanhood in such reverence. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t look so frightened,” he said gently, thinking only of calming her + fear, and speaking as he would to a child. “I will not hurt you. You are + safe, quite safe.” + </p> + <p> + In his eagerness to reassure her he took an unconscious step forward. + Instantly she turned, and, without a sound, fled across the orchard, + through a gap in the northern fence and along what seemed to be a lane + bordering the fir wood beyond and arched over with wild cherry trees misty + white in the gathering gloom. Before Eric could recover his wits she had + vanished from his sight among the firs. + </p> + <p> + He stooped and picked up the violin bow, feeling slightly foolish and very + much annoyed. + </p> + <p> + “Well, this is a most mysterious thing,” he said, somewhat impatiently. + “Am I bewitched? Who was she? WHAT was she? Can it be possible that she is + a Lindsay girl? And why in the name of all that’s provoking should she be + so frightened at the mere sight of me? I have never thought I was a + particularly hideous person, but certainly this adventure has not + increased my vanity to any perceptible extent. Perhaps I have wandered + into an enchanted orchard, and been outwardly transformed into an ogre. + Now that I have come to think of it, there is something quite uncanny + about the place. Anything might happen here. It is no common orchard for + the production of marketable apples, that is plain to be seen. No, it’s a + most unwholesome locality; and the sooner I make my escape from it the + better.” + </p> + <p> + He glanced about it with a whimsical smile. The light was fading rapidly + and the orchard was full of soft, creeping shadows and silences. It seemed + to wink sleepy eyes of impish enjoyment at his perplexity. He laid the + violin bow down on the old bench. + </p> + <p> + “Well, there is no use in my following her, and I have no right to do so + even if it were of use. But I certainly wish she hadn’t fled in such + evident terror. Eyes like hers were never meant to express anything but + tenderness and trust. Why—why—WHY was she so frightened? And + who—who—WHO—can she be?” + </p> + <p> + All the way home, over fields and pastures that were beginning to be + moonlight silvered he pondered the mystery. + </p> + <p> + “Let me see,” he reflected. “Mr. Williamson was describing the Lindsay + girls for my benefit the other evening. If I remember rightly he said that + there were four handsome ones in the district. What were their names? + Florrie Woods, Melissa Foster—no, Melissa Palmer—Emma Scott, + and Jennie May Ferguson. Can she be one of them? No, it is a flagrant + waste of time and gray matter supposing it. That girl couldn’t be a + Florrie or a Melissa or an Emma, while Jennie May is completely out of the + question. Well, there is some bewitchment in the affair. Of that I’m + convinced. So I’d better forget all about it.” + </p> + <p> + But Eric found that it was impossible to forget all about it. The more he + tried to forget, the more keenly and insistently he remembered. The girl’s + exquisite face haunted him and the mystery of her tantalized him. + </p> + <p> + True, he knew that, in all likelihood, he might easily solve the problem + by asking the Williamsons about her. But somehow, to his own surprise, he + found that he shrank from doing this. He felt that it was impossible to + ask Robert Williamson and probably have the girl’s name overflowed in a + stream of petty gossip concerning her and all her antecedents and + collaterals to the third and fourth generation. If he had to ask any one + it should be Mrs. Williamson; but he meant to find out the secret for + himself if it were at all possible. + </p> + <p> + He had planned to go to the harbour the next evening. One of the + lobstermen had promised to take him out cod-fishing. But instead he + wandered southwest over the fields again. + </p> + <p> + He found the orchard easily—he had half expected NOT to find it. It + was still the same fragrant, grassy, wind-haunted spot. But it had no + occupant and the violin bow was gone from the old bench. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps she tiptoed back here for it by the light o’ the moon,” thought + Eric, pleasing his fancy by the vision of a lithe, girlish figure stealing + with a beating heart through mingled shadow and moonshine. “I wonder if + she will possibly come this evening, or if I have frightened her away for + ever. I’ll hide me behind this spruce copse and wait.” + </p> + <p> + Eric waited until dark, but no music sounded through the orchard and no + one came to it. The keenness of his disappointment surprised him, nay + more, it vexed him. What nonsense to be so worked up because a little girl + he had seen for five minutes failed to appear! Where was his common sense, + his “gumption,” as old Robert Williamson would have said? Naturally a man + liked to look at a pretty face. But was that any reason why he should feel + as if life were flat, stale, and unprofitable simply because he could not + look at it? He called himself a fool and went home in a petulant mood. + Arriving there, he plunged fiercely into solving algebraical equations and + working out geometry exercises, determined to put out of his head + forthwith all vain imaginings of an enchanted orchard, white in the + moonshine, with lilts of elfin music echoing down its long arcades. + </p> + <p> + The next day was Sunday and Eric went to church twice. The Williamson pew + was one of the side ones at the top of the church and its occupants + practically faced the congregation. Eric looked at every girl and woman in + the audience, but he saw nothing of the face which, setting will power and + common sense flatly at defiance, haunted his memory like a star. + </p> + <p> + Thomas Gordon was there, sitting alone in his long, empty pew near the top + of the building; and Neil Gordon sang in the choir which occupied the + front pew of the gallery. He had a powerful and melodious, though + untrained voice, which dominated the singing and took the colour out of + the weaker, more commonplace tones of the other singers. He was + well-dressed in a suit of dark blue serge, with a white collar and tie. + But Eric idly thought it did not become him so well as the working clothes + in which he had first seen him. He was too obviously dressed up, and he + looked coarser and more out of harmony with his surroundings. + </p> + <p> + For two days Eric refused to let himself think of the orchard. Monday + evening he went cod-fishing, and Tuesday evening he went up to play + checkers with Alexander Tracy. Alexander won all the games so easily that + he never had any respect for Eric Marshall again. + </p> + <p> + “Played like a feller whose thoughts were wool gathering,” he complained + to his wife. “He’ll never make a checker player—never in this + world.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI. THE STORY OF KILMENY + </h2> + <p> + Wednesday evening Eric went to the orchard again; and again he was + disappointed. He went home, determined to solve the mystery by open + inquiry. Fortune favoured him, for he found Mrs. Williamson alone, sitting + by the west window of her kitchen and knitting at a long gray sock. She + hummed softly to herself as she knitted, and Timothy slept blackly at her + feet. She looked at Eric with quiet affection in her large, candid eyes. + She had liked Mr. West. But Eric had found his way into the inner chamber + of her heart, by reason that his eyes were so like those of the little son + she had buried in the Lindsay churchyard many years before. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Williamson,” said Eric, with an affectation of carelessness, “I + chanced on an old deserted orchard back behind the woods over there last + week, a charming bit of wilderness. Do you know whose it is?” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose it must be the old Connors orchard,” answered Mrs. Williamson + after a moment’s reflection. “I had forgotten all about it. It must be all + of thirty years since Mr. and Mrs. Connors moved away. Their house and + barns were burned down and they sold the land to Thomas Gordon and went to + live in town. They’re both dead now. Mr. Connors used to be very proud of + his orchard. There weren’t many orchards in Lindsay then, though almost + everybody has one now.” + </p> + <p> + “There was a young girl in it, playing on a violin,” said Eric, annoyed to + find that it cost him an effort to speak of her, and that the blood + mounted to his face as he did so. “She ran away in great alarm as soon as + she saw me, although I do not think I did or said anything to frighten or + vex her. I have no idea who she was. Do you know?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Williamson did not make an immediate reply. She laid down her + knitting and gazed out of the window as if pondering seriously some + question in her own mind. Finally she said, with an intonation of keen + interest in her voice, + </p> + <p> + “I suppose it must have been Kilmeny Gordon, Master.” + </p> + <p> + “Kilmeny Gordon? Do you mean the niece of Thomas Gordon of whom your + husband spoke?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “I can hardly believe that the girl I saw can be a member of Thomas + Gordon’s family.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, if it wasn’t Kilmeny Gordon I don’t know who it could have been. + There is no other house near that orchard and I’ve heard she plays the + violin. If it was Kilmeny you’ve seen what very few people in Lindsay have + ever seen, Master. And those few have never seen her close by. I have + never laid eyes on her myself. It’s no wonder she ran away, poor girl. She + isn’t used to seeing strangers.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m rather glad if that was the sole reason of her flight,” said Eric. “I + admit I didn’t like to see any girl so frightened of me as she appeared to + be. She was as white as paper, and so terrified that she never uttered a + word, but fled like a deer to cover.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, she couldn’t have spoken a word in any case,” said Mrs. Williamson + quietly. “Kilmeny Gordon is dumb.” + </p> + <p> + Eric sat in dismayed silence for a moment. That beautiful creature + afflicted in such a fashion—why, it was horrible! Mingled with his + dismay was a strange pang of personal regret and disappointment. + </p> + <p> + “It couldn’t have been Kilmeny Gordon, then,” he protested at last, + remembering. “The girl I saw played on the violin exquisitely. I never + heard anything like it. It is impossible that a deaf mute could play like + that.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, she isn’t deaf, Master,” responded Mrs. Williamson, looking at Eric + keenly through her spectacles. She picked up her knitting and fell to work + again. “That is the strange part of it, if anything about her can be + stranger than another. She can hear as well as anybody and understands + everything that is said to her. But she can’t speak a word and never + could, at least, so they say. The truth is, nobody knows much about her. + Janet and Thomas never speak of her, and Neil won’t either. He has been + well questioned, too, you can depend on that; but he won’t ever say a word + about Kilmeny and he gets mad if folks persist.” + </p> + <p> + “Why isn’t she to be spoken of?” queried Eric impatiently. “What is the + mystery about her?” + </p> + <p> + “It’s a sad story, Master. I suppose the Gordons look on her existence as + a sort of disgrace. For my own part, I think it’s terrible, the way she’s + been brought up. But the Gordons are very strange people, Mr. Marshall. I + kind of reproved father for saying so, you remember, but it is true. They + have very strange ways. And you’ve really seen Kilmeny? What does she look + like? I’ve heard that she was handsome. Is it true?” + </p> + <p> + “I thought her very beautiful,” said Eric rather curtly. “But HOW has she + been brought up, Mrs. Williamson? And why?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I might as well tell you the whole story, Master. Kilmeny is the + niece of Thomas and Janet Gordon. Her mother was Margaret Gordon, their + younger sister. Old James Gordon came out from Scotland. Janet and Thomas + were born in the Old Country and were small children when they came here. + They were never very sociable folks, but still they used to visit out some + then, and people used to go there. They were kind and honest people, even + if they were a little peculiar. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Gordon died a few years after they came out, and four years later + James Gordon went home to Scotland and brought a new wife back with him. + She was a great deal younger than he was and a very pretty woman, as my + mother often told me. She was friendly and gay and liked social life. The + Gordon place was a very different sort of place after she came there, and + even Janet and Thomas got thawed out and softened down a good bit. They + were real fond of their stepmother, I’ve heard. Then, six years after she + was married, the second Mrs. Gordon died too. She died when Margaret was + born. They say James Gordon almost broke his heart over it. + </p> + <p> + “Janet brought Margaret up. She and Thomas just worshipped the child and + so did their father. I knew Margaret Gordon well once. We were just the + same age and we set together in school. We were always good friends until + she turned against all the world. + </p> + <p> + “She was a strange girl in some ways even then, but I always liked her, + though a great many people didn’t. She had some bitter enemies, but she + had some devoted friends too. That was her way. She made folks either hate + or love her. Those who did love her would have gone through fire and water + for her. + </p> + <p> + “When she grew up she was very pretty—tall and splendid, like a + queen, with great thick braids of black hair and red, red cheeks and lips. + Everybody who saw her looked at her a second time. She was a little vain + of her beauty, I think, Master. And she was proud, oh, she was very proud. + She liked to be first in everything, and she couldn’t bear not to show to + good advantage. She was dreadful determined, too. You couldn’t budge her + an inch, Master, when she once had made up her mind on any point. But she + was warm-hearted and generous. She could sing like an angel and she was + very clever. She could learn anything with just one look at it and she was + terrible fond of reading. + </p> + <p> + “When I’m talking about her like this it all comes back to me, just what + she was like and how she looked and spoke and acted, and little ways she + had of moving her hands and head. I declare it almost seems as if she was + right here in this room instead of being over there in the churchyard. I + wish you’d light the lamp, Master. I feel kind of nervous.” + </p> + <p> + Eric rose and lighted the lamp, rather wondering at Mrs. Williamson’s + unusual exhibition of nerves. She was generally so calm and composed. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, Master. That’s better. I won’t be fancying now that Margaret + Gordon’s here listening to what I’m saying. I had the feeling so strong a + moment ago. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose you think I’m a long while getting to Kilmeny, but I’m coming + to that. I didn’t mean to talk so much about Margaret, but somehow my + thoughts got taken up with her. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Margaret passed the Board and went to Queen’s Academy and got a + teacher’s license. She passed pretty well up when she came out, but Janet + told me she cried all night after the pass list came out because there + were some ahead of her. + </p> + <p> + “She went to teach school over at Radnor. It was there she met a man named + Ronald Fraser. Margaret had never had a beau before. She could have had + any young man in Lindsay if she had wanted him, but she wouldn’t look at + one of them. They said it was because she thought nobody was good enough + for her, but that wasn’t the way of it at all, Master. I knew, because + Margaret and I used to talk of those matters, as girls do. She didn’t + believe in going with anybody unless it was somebody she thought + everything of. And there was nobody in Lindsay she cared that much for. + </p> + <p> + “This Ronald Fraser was a stranger from Nova Scotia and nobody knew much + about him. He was a widower, although he was only a young man. He had set + up store-keeping in Radnor and was doing well. He was real handsome and + had taking ways women like. It was said that all the Radnor girls were in + love with him, but I don’t think his worst enemy could have said he + flirted with them. He never took any notice of them; but the very first + time he saw Margaret Gordon he fell in love with her and she with him. + </p> + <p> + “They came over to church in Lindsay together the next Sunday and + everybody said it would be a match. Margaret looked lovely that day, so + gentle and womanly. She had been used to hold her head pretty high, but + that day she held it drooping a little and her black eyes cast down. + Ronald Fraser was very tall and fair, with blue eyes. They made as + handsome a couple as I ever saw. + </p> + <p> + “But old James Gordon and Thomas and Janet didn’t much approve of him. I + saw that plain enough one time I was there and he brought Margaret home + from Radnor Friday night. I guess they wouldn’t have liked anybody, + though, who come after Margaret. They thought nobody was good enough for + her. + </p> + <p> + “But Margaret coaxed them all round in time. She could do pretty near + anything with them, they were so fond and proud of her. Her father held + out the longest, but finally he give in and consented for her to marry + Ronald Fraser. + </p> + <p> + “They had a big wedding, too—all the neighbours were asked. Margaret + always liked to make a display. I was her bridesmaid, Master. I helped her + dress and nothing would please her; she wanted to look that nice for + Ronald’s sake. She was a handsome bride; dressed in white, with red roses + in her hair and at her breast. She wouldn’t wear white flowers; she said + they looked too much like funeral flowers. She looked like a picture. I + can see her this minute, as plain as plain, just as she was that night, + blushing and turning pale by turns, and looking at Ronald with her eyes of + love. If ever a girl loved a man with all her heart Margaret Gordon did. + It almost made me feel frightened. She gave him the worship it isn’t right + to give anybody but God, Master, and I think that is always punished. + </p> + <p> + “They went to live at Radnor and for a little while everything went well. + Margaret had a nice house, and was gay and happy. She dressed beautiful + and entertained a good deal. Then—well, Ronald Fraser’s first wife + turned up looking for him! She wasn’t dead after all. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, there was terrible scandal, Master. The talk and gossip was something + dreadful. Every one you met had a different story, and it was hard to get + at the truth. Some said Ronald Fraser had known all the time that his wife + wasn’t dead, and had deceived Margaret. But I don’t think he did. He swore + he didn’t. They hadn’t been very happy together, it seems. Her mother made + trouble between them. Then she went to visit her mother in Montreal, and + died in the hospital there, so the word came to Ronald. Perhaps he + believed it a little too readily, but that he DID believe it I never had a + doubt. Her story was that it was another woman of the same name. When she + found out Ronald thought her dead she and her mother agreed to let him + think so. But when she heard he had got married again she thought she’d + better let him know the truth. + </p> + <p> + “It all sounded like a queer story and I suppose you couldn’t blame people + for not believing it too readily. But I’ve always felt it was true. + Margaret didn’t think so, though. She believed that Ronald Fraser had + deceived her, knowing all the time that he couldn’t make her his lawful + wife. She turned against him and hated him just as much as she had loved + him before. + </p> + <p> + “Ronald Fraser went away with his real wife, and in less than a year word + came of his death. They said he just died of a broken heart, nothing more + nor less. + </p> + <p> + “Margaret came home to her father’s house. From the day that she went over + its threshold, she never came out until she was carried out in her coffin + three years ago. Not a soul outside of her own family ever saw her again. + I went to see her, but Janet told me she wouldn’t see me. It was foolish + of Margaret to act so. She hadn’t done anything real wrong; and everybody + was sorry for her and would have helped her all they could. But I reckon + pity cut her as deep as blame could have done, and deeper, because you + see, Master, she was so proud she couldn’t bear it. + </p> + <p> + “They say her father was hard on her, too; and that was unjust if it was + true. Janet and Thomas felt the disgrace, too. The people that had been in + the habit of going to the Gordon place soon stopped going, for they could + see they were not welcome. + </p> + <p> + “Old James Gordon died that winter. He never held his head up again after + the scandal. He had been an elder in the church, but he handed in his + resignation right away and nobody could persuade him to withdraw it. + </p> + <p> + “Kilmeny was born in the spring, but nobody ever saw her, except the + minister who baptized her. She was never taken to church or sent to + school. Of course, I suppose there wouldn’t have been any use in her going + to school when she couldn’t speak, and it’s likely Margaret taught her all + she could be taught herself. But it was dreadful that she was never taken + to church, or let go among the children and young folks. And it was a real + shame that nothing was ever done to find out why she couldn’t talk, or if + she could be cured. + </p> + <p> + “Margaret Gordon died three years ago, and everybody in Lindsay went to + the funeral. But they didn’t see her. The coffin lid was screwed down. And + they didn’t see Kilmeny either. I would have loved to see HER for + Margaret’s sake, but I didn’t want to see poor Margaret. I had never seen + her since the night she was a bride, for I had left Lindsay on a visit + just after that, and what I came home the scandal had just broken out. I + remembered Margaret in all her pride and beauty, and I couldn’t have borne + to look at her dead face and see the awful changes I knew must be there. + </p> + <p> + “It was thought perhaps Janet and Thomas would take Kilmeny out after her + mother was gone, but they never did, so I suppose they must have agreed + with Margaret about the way she had been brought up. I’ve often felt sorry + for the poor girl, and I don’t think her people did right by her, even if + she was mysteriously afflicted. She must have had a very sad, lonely life. + </p> + <p> + “That is the story, Master, and I’ve been a long time telling it, as I + dare say you think. But the past just seemed to be living again for me as + I talked. If you don’t want to be pestered with questions about Kilmeny + Gordon, Master, you’d better not let on you’ve seen her.” + </p> + <p> + Eric was not likely to. He had heard all he wanted to know and more. + </p> + <p> + “So this girl is at the core of a tragedy,” he reflected, as he went to + his room. “And she is dumb! The pity of it! Kilmeny! The name suits her. + She is as lovely and innocent as the heroine of the old ballad. ‘And oh, + Kilmeny was fair to see.’ But the next line is certainly not so + appropriate, for her eyes were anything but ‘still and steadfast’—after + she had seen me, at all events.” + </p> + <p> + He tried to put her out of his thoughts, but he could not. The memory of + her beautiful face drew him with a power he could not resist. The next + evening he went again to the orchard. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII. A ROSE OF WOMANHOOD + </h2> + <p> + When he emerged from the spruce wood and entered the orchard his heart + gave a sudden leap, and he felt that the blood rushed madly to his face. + She was there, bending over the bed of June lilies in the centre of the + garden plot. He could only see her profile, virginal and white. + </p> + <p> + He stopped, not wishing to startle her again. When she lifted her head he + expected to see her shrink and flee, but she did not do so; she only grew + a little paler and stood motionless, watching him intently. + </p> + <p> + Seeing this, he walked slowly towards her, and when he was so close to her + that he could hear the nervous flutter of her breath over her parted, + trembling lips, he said very gently, + </p> + <p> + “Do not be afraid of me. I am a friend, and I do not wish to disturb or + annoy you in any way.” + </p> + <p> + She seemed to hesitate a moment. Then she lifted a little slate that hung + at her belt, wrote something on it rapidly, and held it out to him. He + read, in a small distinctive handwriting, + </p> + <p> + “I am not afraid of you now. Mother told me that all strange men were very + wicked and dangerous, but I do not think you can be. I have thought a + great deal about you, and I am sorry I ran away the other night.” + </p> + <p> + He realized her entire innocence and simplicity. Looking earnestly into + her still troubled eyes he said, + </p> + <p> + “I would not do you any harm for the world. All men are not wicked, + although it is too true that some are so. My name is Eric Marshall and I + am teaching in the Lindsay school. You, I think, are Kilmeny Gordon. I + thought your music so very lovely the other evening that I have been + wishing ever since that I might hear it again. Won’t you play for me?” + </p> + <p> + The vague fear had all gone from her eyes by this time, and suddenly she + smiled—a merry, girlish, wholly irresistible smile, which broke + through the calm of her face like a gleam of sunlight rippling over a + placid sea. Then she wrote, “I am very sorry that I cannot play this + evening. I did not bring my violin with me. But I will bring it to-morrow + evening and play for you if you would like to hear me. I should like to + please you.” + </p> + <p> + Again that note of innocent frankness! What a child she was—what a + beautiful, ignorant child, utterly unskilled in the art of hiding her + feelings! But why should she hide them? They were as pure and beautiful as + herself. Eric smiled back at her with equal frankness. + </p> + <p> + “I should like it more than I can say, and I shall be sure to come + to-morrow evening if it is fine. But if it is at all damp or unpleasant + you must not come. In that case another evening will do. And now won’t you + give me some flowers?” + </p> + <p> + She nodded, with another little smile, and began to pick some of the June + lilies, carefully selecting the most perfect among them. He watched her + lithe, graceful motions with delight; every movement seemed poetry itself. + She looked like a very incarnation of Spring—as if all the shimmer + of young leaves and glow of young mornings and evanescent sweetness of + young blossoms in a thousand springs had been embodied in her. + </p> + <p> + When she came to him, radiant, her hands full of the lilies, a couplet + from a favourite poem darted into his head— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “A blossom vermeil white + That lightly breaks a faded flower sheath, + Here, by God’s rood, is the one maid for me.” + </pre> + <p> + The next moment he was angry with himself for his folly. She was, after + all, nothing but a child—and a child set apart from her fellow + creatures by her sad defect. He must not let himself think nonsense. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you. These June lilies are the sweetest flowers the spring brings + us. Do you know that their real name is the white narcissus?” She looked + pleased and interested. + </p> + <p> + “No, I did not know,” she wrote. “I have often read of the white narcissus + and wondered what it was like. I never thought of it being the same as my + dear June lilies. I am glad you told me. I love flowers very much. They + are my very good friends.” + </p> + <p> + “You couldn’t help being friends with the lilies. Like always takes to + like,” said Eric. “Come and sit down on the old bench—here, where + you were sitting that night I frightened you so badly. I could not imagine + who or what you were. Sometimes I thought I had dreamed you—only,” + he added under his breath and unheard by her, “I could never have dreamed + anything half so lovely.” + </p> + <p> + She sat down beside him on the old bench and looked unshrinkingly in his + face. There was no boldness in her glance—nothing but the most + perfect, childlike trust and confidence. If there had been any evil in his + heart—any skulking thought, he was afraid to acknowledge—those + eyes must have searched it out and shamed it. But he could meet them + unafraid. Then she wrote, + </p> + <p> + “I was very much frightened. You must have thought me very silly, but I + had never seen any man except Uncle Thomas and Neil and the egg peddler. + And you are different from them—oh, very, very different. I was + afraid to come back here the next evening. And yet, somehow, I wanted to + come. I did not want you to think I did not know how to behave. I sent + Neil back for my bow in the morning. I could not do without it. I cannot + speak, you know. Are you sorry?” + </p> + <p> + “I am very sorry for your sake.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but what I mean is, would you like me better if I could speak like + other people?” + </p> + <p> + “No, it does not make any difference in that way, Kilmeny. By the way, do + you mind my calling you Kilmeny?” + </p> + <p> + She looked puzzled and wrote, “What else should you call me? That is my + name. Everybody calls me that.” + </p> + <p> + “But I am such a stranger to you that perhaps you would wish me to call + you Miss Gordon.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, I would not like that,” she wrote quickly, with a distressed look + on her face. “Nobody ever calls me that. It would make me feel as if I + were not myself but somebody else. And you do not seem like a stranger to + me. Is there any reason why you should not call me Kilmeny?” + </p> + <p> + “No reason whatever, if you will allow me the privilege. You have a very + lovely name—the very name you ought to have.” + </p> + <p> + “I am glad you like it. Do you know that I was called after my grandmother + and she was called after a girl in a poem? Aunt Janet has never liked my + name, although she liked my grandmother. But I am glad you like both my + name and me. I was afraid you would not like me because I cannot speak.” + </p> + <p> + “You can speak through your music, Kilmeny.” + </p> + <p> + She looked pleased. “How well you understand,” she wrote. “Yes, I cannot + speak or sing as other people can, but I can make my violin say things for + me.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you compose your own music?” he asked. But he saw she did not + understand him. “I mean, did any one ever teach you the music you played + here that evening?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no. It just came as I thought. It has always been that way. When I + was very little Neil taught me to hold the violin and the bow, and the + rest all came of itself. My violin once belonged to Neil, but he gave it + to me. Neil is very good and kind to me, but I like you better. Tell me + about yourself.” + </p> + <p> + The wonder of her grew upon him with every passing moment. How lovely she + was! What dear little ways and gestures she had—ways and gestures as + artless and unstudied as they were effective. And how strangely little her + dumbness seemed to matter after all! She wrote so quickly and easily, her + eyes and smile gave such expression to her mobile face, that voice was + hardly missed. + </p> + <p> + They lingered in the orchard until the long, languid shadows of the trees + crept to their feet. It was just after sunset and the distant hills were + purple against the melting saffron of the sky in the west and the + crystalline blue of the sky in the south. Eastward, just over the fir + woods, were clouds, white and high heaped like snow mountains, and the + westernmost of them shone with a rosy glow as of sunset on an Alpine + height. + </p> + <p> + The higher worlds of air were still full of light—perfect, stainless + light, unmarred of earth shadow; but down in the orchard and under the + spruces the light had almost gone, giving place to a green, dewy dusk, + made passionately sweet with the breath of the apple blossoms and mint, + and the balsamic odours that rained down upon them from the firs. + </p> + <p> + Eric told her of his life, and the life in the great outer world, in which + she was girlishly and eagerly interested. She asked him many questions + about it—direct and incisive questions which showed that she had + already formed decided opinions and views about it. Yet it was plain to be + seen that she did not regard it as anything she might ever share herself. + Hers was the dispassionate interest with which she might have listened to + a tale of the land of fairy or of some great empire long passed away from + earth. + </p> + <p> + Eric discovered that she had read a great deal of poetry and history, and + a few books of biography and travel. She did not know what a novel meant + and had never heard of one. Curiously enough, she was well informed + regarding politics and current events, from the weekly paper for which her + uncle subscribed. + </p> + <p> + “I never read the newspaper while mother was alive,” she wrote, “nor any + poetry either. She taught me to read and write and I read the Bible all + through many times and some of the histories. After mother died Aunt Janet + gave me all her books. She had a great many. Most of them had been given + to her as prizes when she was a girl at school, and some of them had been + given to her by my father. Do you know the story of my father and mother?” + </p> + <p> + Eric nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Mrs. Williamson told me all about it. She was a friend of your + mother.” + </p> + <p> + “I am glad you have heard it. It is so sad that I would not like to tell + it, but you will understand everything better because you know. I never + heard it until just before mother died. Then she told me all. I think she + had thought father was to blame for the trouble; but before she died she + told me she believed that she had been unjust to him and that he had not + known. She said that when people were dying they saw things more clearly + and she saw she had made a mistake about father. She said she had many + more things she wanted to tell me, but she did not have time to tell them + because she died that night. It was a long while before I had the heart to + read her books. But when I did I thought them so beautiful. They were + poetry and it was like music put into words.” + </p> + <p> + “I will bring you some books to read, if you would like them,” said Eric. + </p> + <p> + Her great blue eyes gleamed with interest and delight. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, thank you, I would like it very much. I have read mine over so often + that I know them nearly all by heart. One cannot get tired of really + beautiful things, but sometimes I feel that I would like some new books.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you never lonely, Kilmeny?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, how could I be? There is always plenty for me to do, helping Aunt + Janet about the house. I can do a great many things”—she glanced up + at him with a pretty pride as her flying pencil traced the words. “I can + cook and sew. Aunt Janet says I am a very good housekeeper, and she does + not praise people very often or very much. And then, when I am not helping + her, I have my dear, dear violin. That is all the company I want. But I + like to read and hear of the big world so far away and the people who live + there and the things that are done. It must be a very wonderful place.” + </p> + <p> + “Wouldn’t you like to go out into it and see its wonders and meet those + people yourself?” he asked, smiling at her. + </p> + <p> + At once he saw that, in some way he could not understand, he had hurt her. + She snatched her pencil and wrote, with such swiftness of motion and + energy of expression that it almost seemed as if she had passionately + exclaimed the words aloud, + </p> + <p> + “No, no, no. I do not want to go anywhere away from home. I do not want + ever to see strangers or have them see me. I could not bear it.” + </p> + <p> + He thought that possibly the consciousness of her defect accounted for + this. Yet she did not seem sensitive about her dumbness and made frequent + casual references to it in her written remarks. Or perhaps it was the + shadow on her birth. Yet she was so innocent that it seemed unlikely she + could realize or understand the existence of such a shadow. Eric finally + decided that it was merely the rather morbid shrinking of a sensitive + child who had been brought up in an unwholesome and unnatural way. At last + the lengthening shadows warned him that it was time to go. + </p> + <p> + “You won’t forget to come to-morrow evening and play for me,” he said, + rising reluctantly. She answered by a quick little shake of her sleek, + dark head, and a smile that was eloquent. He watched her as she walked + across the orchard, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “With the moon’s beauty and the moon’s soft pace,” + </pre> + <p> + and along the wild cherry lane. At the corner of the firs she paused and + waved her hand to him before turning it. + </p> + <p> + When Eric reached home old Robert Williamson was having a lunch of bread + and milk in the kitchen. He looked up, with a friendly grin, as Eric + strode in, whistling. + </p> + <p> + “Been having a walk, Master?” he queried. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Eric. + </p> + <p> + Unconsciously and involuntarily he infused so much triumph into the simple + monosyllable that even old Robert felt it. Mrs. Williamson, who was + cutting bread at the end of the table, laid down her knife and loaf, and + looked at the young man with a softly troubled expression in her eyes. She + wondered if he had been back to the Connors orchard—and if he could + have seen Kilmeny Gordon again. + </p> + <p> + “You didn’t discover a gold mine, I s’pose?” said old Robert dryly. “You + look as if you might have.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII. AT THE GATE OF EDEN + </h2> + <p> + When Eric went to the old Connors orchard the next evening he found + Kilmeny waiting for him on the bench under the white lilac tree, with the + violin in her lap. As soon as she saw him she caught it up and began to + play an airy delicate little melody that sounded like the laughter of + daisies. + </p> + <p> + When it was finished she dropped her bow, and looked up at him with + flushed cheeks and questioning eyes. + </p> + <p> + “What did that say to you?” she wrote. + </p> + <p> + “It said something like this,” answered Eric, falling into her humour + smilingly. “Welcome, my friend. It is a very beautiful evening. The sky is + so blue and the apple blossoms so sweet. The wind and I have been here + alone together and the wind is a good companion, but still I am glad to + see you. It is an evening on which it is good to be alive and to wander in + an orchard that is fine and white. Welcome, my friend.” + </p> + <p> + She clapped her hands, looking like a pleased child. + </p> + <p> + “You are very quick to understand,” she wrote. “That was just what I + meant. Of course I did not think it in just those words, but that was the + FEELING of it. I felt that I was so glad I was alive, and that the apple + blossoms and the white lilacs and the trees and I were all pleased + together to see you come. You are quicker than Neil. He is almost always + puzzled to understand my music, and I am puzzled to understand his. + Sometimes it frightens me. It seems as if there were something in it + trying to take hold of me—something I do not like and want to run + away from.” + </p> + <p> + Somehow Eric did not like her references to Neil. The idea of that + handsome, low-born boy seeing Kilmeny every day, talking to her, sitting + at the same table with her, dwelling under the same roof, meeting her in + the hundred intimacies of daily life, was distasteful to him. He put the + thought away from him, and flung himself down on the long grass at her + feet. + </p> + <p> + “Now play for me, please,” he said. “I want to lie here and listen to + you.” + </p> + <p> + “And look at you,” he might have added. He could not tell which was the + greater pleasure. Her beauty, more wonderful than any pictured loveliness + he had ever seen, delighted him. Every tint and curve and outline of her + face was flawless. Her music enthralled him. This child, he told himself + as he listened, had genius. But it was being wholly wasted. He found + himself thinking resentfully of the people who were her guardians, and who + were responsible for her strange life. They had done her a great and + irremediable wrong. How dared they doom her to such an existence? If her + defect of utterance had been attended to in time, who knew but that it + might have been cured? Now it was probably too late. Nature had given her + a royal birthright of beauty and talent, but their selfish and + unpardonable neglect had made it of no account. + </p> + <p> + What divine music she lured out of the old violin—merry and sad, gay + and sorrowful by turns, music such as the stars of morning might have made + singing together, music that the fairies might have danced to in their + revels among the green hills or on yellow sands, music that might have + mourned over the grave of a dead hope. Then she drifted into a still + sweeter strain. As he listened to it he realized that the whole soul and + nature of the girl were revealing themselves to him through her music—the + beauty and purity of her thoughts, her childhood dreams and her maiden + reveries. There was no thought of concealment about her; she could not + help the revelation she was unconscious of making. + </p> + <p> + At last she laid her violin aside and wrote, + </p> + <p> + “I have done my best to give you pleasure. It is your turn now. Do you + remember a promise you made me last night? Have you kept it?” + </p> + <p> + He gave her the two books he had brought for her—a modern novel and + a volume of poetry unknown to her. He had hesitated a little over the + former; but the book was so fine and full of beauty that he thought it + could not bruise the bloom of her innocence ever so slightly. He had no + doubts about the poetry. It was the utterance of one of those great + inspired souls whose passing tread has made the kingdom of their birth and + labour a veritable Holy Land. + </p> + <p> + He read her some of the poems. Then he talked to her of his college days + and friends. The minutes passed very swiftly. There was just then no world + for him outside of that old orchard with its falling blossoms and its + shadows and its crooning winds. + </p> + <p> + Once, when he told her the story of some college pranks wherein the + endless feuds of freshmen and sophomores figured, she clapped her hands + together according to her habit, and laughed aloud—a clear, musical, + silvery peal. It fell on Eric’s ear with a shock of surprise. He thought + it strange that she could laugh like that when she could not speak. + Wherein lay the defect that closed for her the gates of speech? Was it + possible that it could be removed? + </p> + <p> + “Kilmeny,” he said gravely after a moment’s reflection, during which he + had looked up as she sat with the ruddy sunlight falling through the lilac + branches on her bare, silky head like a shower of red jewels, “do you mind + if I ask you something about your inability to speak? Will it hurt you to + talk of the matter with me?” + </p> + <p> + She shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no,” she wrote, “I do not mind at all. Of course I am sorry I cannot + speak, but I am quite used to the thought and it never hurts me at all.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, Kilmeny, tell me this. Do you know why it is that you are unable to + speak, when all your other faculties are so perfect?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I do not know at all why I cannot speak. I asked mother once and she + told me it was a judgment on her for a great sin she had committed, and + she looked so strangely that I was frightened, and I never spoke of it to + her or anyone else again.” + </p> + <p> + “Were you ever taken to a doctor to have your tongue and organs of speech + examined?” + </p> + <p> + “No. I remember when I was a very little girl that Uncle Thomas wanted to + take me to a doctor in Charlottetown and see if anything could be done for + me, but mother would not let him. She said it would be no use. And I do + not think Uncle Thomas thought it would be, either.” + </p> + <p> + “You can laugh very naturally. Can you make any other sound?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sometimes. When I am pleased or frightened I have made little cries. + But it is only when I am not thinking of it at all that I can do that. If + I TRY to make a sound I cannot do it at all.” + </p> + <p> + This seemed to Eric more mysterious than ever. + </p> + <p> + “Do you ever try to speak—to utter words?” he persisted. + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes, very often. All the time I am saying the words in my head, just + as I hear other people saying them, but I never can make my tongue say + them. Do not look so sorry, my friend. I am very happy and I do not mind + so very much not being able to speak—only sometimes when I have so + many thoughts and it seems so slow to write them out, some of them get + away from me. I must play to you again. You look too sober.” + </p> + <p> + She laughed again, picked up her violin, and played a tinkling, roguish + little melody as if she were trying to tease him, looking at Eric over her + violin with luminous eyes that dared him to be merry. + </p> + <p> + Eric smiled; but the puzzled look returned to his face many times that + evening. He walked home in a brown study. Kilmeny’s case certainly seemed + a strange one, and the more he thought of it the stranger it seemed. + </p> + <p> + “It strikes me as something very peculiar that she should be able to make + sounds only when she is not thinking about it,” he reflected. “I wish + David Baker could examine her. But I suppose that is out of the question. + That grim pair who have charge of her would never consent.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX. THE STRAIGHT SIMPLICITY OF EVE + </h2> + <p> + For the next three weeks Eric Marshall seemed to himself to be living two + lives, as distinct from each other as if he possessed a double + personality. In one, he taught the Lindsay district school diligently and + painstakingly; solved problems; argued on theology with Robert Williamson; + called at the homes of his pupils and took tea in state with their + parents; went to a rustic dance or two and played havoc, all unwittingly, + with the hearts of the Lindsay maidens. + </p> + <p> + But this life was a dream of workaday. He only LIVED in the other, which + was spent in an old orchard, grassy and overgrown, where the minutes + seemed to lag for sheer love of the spot and the June winds made wild + harping in the old spruces. + </p> + <p> + Here every evening he met Kilmeny; in that old orchard they garnered hours + of quiet happiness together; together they went wandering in the fair + fields of old romance; together they read many books and talked of many + things; and, when they were tired of all else, Kilmeny played to him and + the old orchard echoed with her lovely, fantastic melodies. + </p> + <p> + At every meeting her beauty came home afresh to him with the old thrill of + glad surprise. In the intervals of absence it seemed to him that she could + not possibly be as beautiful as he remembered her; and then when they met + she seemed even more so. He learned to watch for the undisguised light of + welcome that always leaped into her eyes at the sound of his footsteps. + She was nearly always there before him and she always showed that she was + glad to see him with the frank delight of a child watching for a dear + comrade. + </p> + <p> + She was never in the same mood twice. Now she was grave, now gay, now + stately, now pensive. But she was always charming. Thrawn and twisted the + old Gordon stock might be, but it had at least this one offshoot of + perfect grace and symmetry. Her mind and heart, utterly unspoiled of the + world, were as beautiful as her face. All the ugliness of existence had + passed her by, shrined in her double solitude of upbringing and muteness. + </p> + <p> + She was naturally quick and clever. Delightful little flashes of wit and + humour sparkled out occasionally. She could be whimsical—even + charmingly capricious. Sometimes innocent mischief glimmered out in the + unfathomable deeps of her blue eyes. Sarcasm, even, was not unknown to + her. Now and then she punctured some harmless bubble of a young man’s + conceit or masculine superiority with a biting little line of daintily + written script. + </p> + <p> + She assimilated the ideas in the books they read, speedily, eagerly, and + thoroughly, always seizing on the best and truest, and rejecting the false + and spurious and weak with an unfailing intuition at which Eric marvelled. + Hers was the spear of Ithuriel, trying out the dross of everything and + leaving only the pure gold. + </p> + <p> + In manner and outlook she was still a child. Yet now and again she was as + old as Eve. An expression would leap into her laughing face, a subtle + meaning reveal itself in her smile, that held all the lore of womanhood + and all the wisdom of the ages. + </p> + <p> + Her way of smiling enchanted him. The smile always began far down in her + eyes and flowed outward to her face like a sparkling brook stealing out of + shadow into sunshine. + </p> + <p> + He knew everything about her life. She told him her simple history freely. + She often mentioned her uncle and aunt and seemed to regard them with deep + affection. She rarely spoke of her mother. Eric came somehow to + understand, less from what she said than from what she did not say, that + Kilmeny, though she had loved her mother, had always been rather afraid of + her. There had not been between them the natural beautiful confidence of + mother and child. + </p> + <p> + Of Neil, she wrote frequently at first, and seemed very fond of him. Later + she ceased to mention him. Perhaps—for she was marvellously quick to + catch and interpret every fleeting change of expression in his voice and + face—she discerned what Eric did not know himself—that his + eyes clouded and grew moody at the mention of Neil’s name. + </p> + <p> + Once she asked him naively, + </p> + <p> + “Are there many people like you out in the world?” + </p> + <p> + “Thousands of them,” said Eric, laughing. + </p> + <p> + She looked gravely at him. Then she gave her head a quick decided little + shake. + </p> + <p> + “I do not think so,” she wrote. “I do not know much of the world, but I do + not think there are many people like you in it.” + </p> + <p> + One evening, when the far-away hills and fields were scarfed in gauzy + purples, and the intervales were brimming with golden mists, Eric carried + to the old orchard a little limp, worn volume that held a love story. It + was the first thing of the kind he had ever read to her, for in the first + novel he had lent her the love interest had been very slight and + subordinate. This was a beautiful, passionate idyl exquisitely told. + </p> + <p> + He read it to her, lying in the grass at her feet; she listened with her + hands clasped over her knee and her eyes cast down. It was not a long + story; and when he had finished it he shut the book and looked up at her + questioningly. + </p> + <p> + “Do you like it, Kilmeny?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + Very slowly she took her slate and wrote, + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I like it. But it hurt me, too. I did not know that a person could + like anything that hurt her. I do not know why it hurt me. I felt as if I + had lost something that I never had. That was a very silly feeling, was it + not? But I did not understand the book very well, you see. It is about + love and I do not know anything about love. Mother told me once that love + is a curse, and that I must pray that it would never enter into my life. + She said it very earnestly, and so I believed her. But your book teaches + that it is a blessing. It says that it is the most splendid and wonderful + thing in life. Which am I to believe?” + </p> + <p> + “Love—real love—is never a curse, Kilmeny,” said Eric gravely. + “There is a false love which IS a curse. Perhaps your mother believed it + was that which had entered her life and ruined it; and so she made the + mistake. There is nothing in the world—or in heaven either, as I + believe—so truly beautiful and wonderful and blessed as love.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you ever loved?” asked Kilmeny, with the directness of phrasing + necessitated by her mode of communication which was sometimes a little + terrible. She asked the question simply and without embarrassment. She + knew of no reason why love might not be discussed with Eric as other + matters—music and books and travel—might be. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Eric—honestly, as he thought, “but every one has an ideal + of love whom he hopes to meet some day—‘the ideal woman of a young + man’s dream.’ I suppose I have mine, in some sealed, secret chamber of my + heart.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose your ideal woman would be beautiful, like the woman in your + book?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, I am sure I could never care for an ugly woman,” said Eric, + laughing a little as he sat up. “Our ideals are always beautiful, whether + they so translate themselves into realities or not. But the sun is going + down. Time does certainly fly in this enchanted orchard. I believe you + bewitch the moments away, Kilmeny. Your namesake of the poem was a + somewhat uncanny maid, if I recollect aright, and thought as little of + seven years in elfland as ordinary folk do of half an hour on upper earth. + Some day I shall waken from a supposed hour’s lingering here and find + myself an old man with white hair and ragged coat, as in that fairy tale + we read the other night. Will you let me give you this book? I should + never commit the sacrilege of reading it in any other place than this. It + is an old book, Kilmeny. A new book, savouring of the shop and + market-place, however beautiful it might be, would not do for you. This + was one of my mother’s books. She read it and loved it. See—the + faded rose leaves she placed in it one day are there still. I’ll write + your name in it—that quaint, pretty name of yours which always + sounds as if it had been specially invented for you—‘Kilmeny of the + Orchard’—and the date of this perfect June day on which we read it + together. Then when you look at it you will always remember me, and the + white buds opening on that rosebush beside you, and the rush and murmur of + the wind in the tops of those old spruces.” + </p> + <p> + He held out the book to her, but, to his surprise, she shook her head, + with a deeper flush on her face. + </p> + <p> + “Won’t you take the book, Kilmeny? Why not?” + </p> + <p> + She took her pencil and wrote slowly, unlike her usual quick movement. + </p> + <p> + “Do not be offended with me. I shall not need anything to make me remember + you because I can never forget you. But I would rather not take the book. + I do not want to read it again. It is about love, and there is no use in + my learning about love, even if it is all you say. Nobody will ever love + me. I am too ugly.” + </p> + <p> + “You! Ugly!” exclaimed Eric. He was on the point of going off into a peal + of laughter at the idea when a glimpse of her half averted face sobered + him. On it was a hurt, bitter look, such as he remembered seeing once + before, when he had asked her if she would not like to see the world for + herself. + </p> + <p> + “Kilmeny,” he said in astonishment, “you don’t really think yourself ugly, + do you?” + </p> + <p> + She nodded, without looking at him, and then wrote, + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, I know that I am. I have known it for a long time. Mother told + me that I was very ugly and that nobody would ever like to look at me. I + am sorry. It hurts me much worse to know I am ugly than it does to know I + cannot speak. I suppose you will think that is very foolish of me, but it + is true. That was why I did not come back to the orchard for such a long + time, even after I had got over my fright. I hated to think that YOU would + think me ugly. And that is why I do not want to go out into the world and + meet people. They would look at me as the egg peddler did one day when I + went out with Aunt Janet to his wagon the spring after mother died. He + stared at me so. I knew it was because he thought me so ugly, and I have + always hidden when he came ever since.” + </p> + <p> + Eric’s lips twitched. In spite of his pity for the real suffering + displayed in her eyes, he could not help feeling amused over the absurd + idea of this beautiful girl believing herself in all seriousness to be + ugly. + </p> + <p> + “But, Kilmeny, do you think yourself ugly when you look in a mirror?” he + asked smiling. + </p> + <p> + “I have never looked in a mirror,” she wrote. “I never knew there was such + a thing until after mother died, and I read about it in a book. Then I + asked Aunt Janet and she said mother had broken all the looking glasses in + the house when I was a baby. But I have seen my face reflected in the + spoons, and in a little silver sugar bowl Aunt Janet has. And it IS ugly—very + ugly.” + </p> + <p> + Eric’s face went down into the grass. For his life he could not help + laughing; and for his life he would not let Kilmeny see him laughing. A + certain little whimsical wish took possession of him and he did not hasten + to tell her the truth, as had been his first impulse. Instead, when he + dared to look up he said slowly, + </p> + <p> + “I don’t think you are ugly, Kilmeny.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but I am sure you must,” she wrote protestingly. “Even Neil does. He + tells me I am kind and nice, but one day I asked him if he thought me very + ugly, and he looked away and would not speak, so I knew what he thought + about it, too. Do not let us speak of this again. It makes me feel sorry + and spoils everything. I forget it at other times. Let me play you some + good-bye music, and do not feel vexed because I would not take your book. + It would only make me unhappy to read it.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not vexed,” said Eric, “and I think you will take it some day yet—after + I have shown you something I want you to see. Never mind about your looks, + Kilmeny. Beauty isn’t everything.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it is a great deal,” she wrote naively. “But you do like me, even + though I am so ugly, don’t you? You like me because of my beautiful music, + don’t you?” + </p> + <p> + “I like you very much, Kilmeny,” answered Eric, laughing a little; but + there was in his voice a tender note of which he was unconscious. Kilmeny + was aware of it, however, and she picked up her violin with a pleased + smile. + </p> + <p> + He left her playing there, and all the way through the dim resinous spruce + wood her music followed him like an invisible guardian spirit. + </p> + <p> + “Kilmeny the Beautiful!” he murmured, “and yet, good heavens, the child + thinks she is ugly—she with a face more lovely than ever an artist + dreamed of! A girl of eighteen who has never looked in a mirror! I wonder + if there is another such in any civilized country in the world. What could + have possessed her mother to tell her such a falsehood? I wonder if + Margaret Gordon could have been quite sane. It is strange that Neil has + never told her the truth. Perhaps he doesn’t want her to find out.” + </p> + <p> + Eric had met Neil Gordon a few evenings before this, at a country dance + where Neil had played the violin for the dancers. Influenced by curiosity + he had sought the lad’s acquaintance. Neil was friendly and talkative at + first; but at the first hint concerning the Gordons which Eric threw out + skilfully his face and manner changed. He looked secretive and suspicious, + almost sinister. A sullen look crept into his big black eyes and he drew + his bow across the violin strings with a discordant screech, as if to + terminate the conversation. Plainly nothing was to be found out from him + about Kilmeny and her grim guardians. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X. A TROUBLING OF THE WATERS + </h2> + <p> + One evening in late June Mrs. Williamson was sitting by her kitchen + window. Her knitting lay unheeded in her lap, and Timothy, though he + nestled ingratiatingly against her foot as he lay on the rug and purred + his loudest, was unregarded. She rested her face on her hand and looked + out of the window, across the distant harbour, with troubled eyes. + </p> + <p> + “I guess I must speak,” she thought wistfully. “I hate to do it. I always + did hate meddling. My mother always used to say that ninety-nine times out + of a hundred the last state of a meddler and them she meddled with was + worse than the first. But I guess it’s my duty. I was Margaret’s friend, + and it is my duty to protect her child any way I can. If the Master does + go back across there to meet her I must tell him what I think about it.” + </p> + <p> + Overhead in his room, Eric was walking about whistling. Presently he came + downstairs, thinking of the orchard, and the girl who would be waiting for + him there. + </p> + <p> + As he crossed the little front entry he heard Mrs. Williamson’s voice + calling to him. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Marshall, will you please come here a moment?” + </p> + <p> + He went out to the kitchen. Mrs. Williamson looked at him deprecatingly. + There was a flush on her faded cheek and her voice trembled. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Marshall, I want to ask you a question. Perhaps you will think it + isn’t any of my business. But it isn’t because I want to meddle. No, no. + It is only because I think I ought to speak. I have thought it over for a + long time, and it seems to me that I ought to speak. I hope you won’t be + angry, but even if you are I must say what I have to say. Are you going + back to the old Connors orchard to meet Kilmeny Gordon?” + </p> + <p> + For a moment an angry flush burned in Eric’s face. It was more Mrs. + Williamson’s tone than her words which startled and annoyed him. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I am, Mrs. Williamson,” he said coldly. “What of it?” + </p> + <p> + “Then, sir,” said Mrs. Williamson with more firmness, “I have got to tell + you that I don’t think you are doing right. I have been suspecting all + along that that was where you went every evening, but I haven’t said a + word to any one about it. Even my husband doesn’t know. But tell me this, + Master. Do Kilmeny’s uncle and aunt know that you are meeting her there?” + </p> + <p> + “Why,” said Eric, in some confusion, “I—I do not know whether they + do or not. But Mrs. Williamson, surely you do not suspect me of meaning + any harm or wrong to Kilmeny Gordon?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I don’t, Master. I might think it of some men, but never of you. I + don’t for a minute think that you would do her or any woman any wilful + wrong. But you may do her great harm for all that. I want you to stop and + think about it. I guess you haven’t thought. Kilmeny can’t know anything + about the world or about men, and she may get to thinking too much of you. + That might break her heart, because you couldn’t ever marry a dumb girl + like her. So I don’t think you ought to be meeting her so often in this + fashion. It isn’t right, Master. Don’t go to the orchard again.” + </p> + <p> + Without a word Eric turned away, and went upstairs to his room. Mrs. + Williamson picked up her knitting with a sigh. + </p> + <p> + “That’s done, Timothy, and I’m real thankful,” she said. “I guess there’ll + be no need of saying anything more. Mr. Marshall is a fine young man, only + a little thoughtless. Now that he’s got his eyes opened I’m sure he’ll do + what is right. I don’t want Margaret’s child made unhappy.” + </p> + <p> + Her husband came to the kitchen door and sat down on the steps to enjoy + his evening smoke, talking between whiffs to his wife of Elder Tracy’s + church row, and Mary Alice Martin’s beau, the price Jake Crosby was giving + for eggs, the quantity of hay yielded by the hill meadow, the trouble he + was having with old Molly’s calf, and the respective merits of Plymouth + Rock and Brahma roosters. Mrs. Williamson answered at random, and heard + not one word in ten. + </p> + <p> + “What’s got the Master, Mother?” inquired old Robert, presently. “I hear + him striding up and down in his room ‘sif he was caged. Sure you didn’t + lock him in by mistake?” + </p> + <p> + “Maybe he’s worried over the way Seth Tracy’s acting in school,” suggested + Mrs. Williamson, who did not choose that her gossipy husband should + suspect the truth about Eric and Kilmeny Gordon. + </p> + <p> + “Shucks, he needn’t worry a morsel over that. Seth’ll quiet down as soon + as he finds he can’t run the Master. He’s a rare good teacher—better’n + Mr. West was even, and that’s saying something. The trustees are hoping + he’ll stay for another term. They’re going to ask him at the school + meeting to-morrow, and offer him a raise of supplement.” + </p> + <p> + Upstairs, in his little room under the eaves, Eric Marshall was in the + grip of the most intense and overwhelming emotion he had ever experienced. + </p> + <p> + Up and down, to and fro, he walked, with set lips and clenched hands. When + he was wearied out he flung himself on a chair by the window and wrestled + with the flood of feeling. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Williamson’s words had torn away the delusive veil with which he had + bound his eyes. He was face to face with the knowledge that he loved + Kilmeny Gordon with the love that comes but once, and is for all time. He + wondered how he could have been so long blind to it. He knew that he must + have loved her ever since their first meeting that May evening in the old + orchard. + </p> + <p> + And he knew that he must choose between two alternatives—either he + must never go to the orchard again, or he must go as an avowed lover to + woo him a wife. + </p> + <p> + Worldly prudence, his inheritance from a long line of thrifty, cool-headed + ancestors, was strong in Eric, and he did not yield easily or speedily to + the dictates of his passion. All night he struggled against the new + emotions that threatened to sweep away the “common sense” which David + Baker had bade him take with him when he went a-wooing. Would not a + marriage with Kilmeny Gordon be an unwise thing from any standpoint? + </p> + <p> + Then something stronger and greater and more vital than wisdom or unwisdom + rose up in him and mastered him. Kilmeny, beautiful, dumb Kilmeny was, as + he had once involuntarily thought, “the one maid” for him. Nothing should + part them. The mere idea of never seeing her again was so unbearable that + he laughed at himself for having counted it a possible alternative. + </p> + <p> + “If I can win Kilmeny’s love I shall ask her to be my wife,” he said, + looking out of the window to the dark, southwestern hill beyond which lay + his orchard. + </p> + <p> + The velvet sky over it was still starry; but the water of the harbour was + beginning to grow silvery in the reflection of the dawn that was breaking + in the east. + </p> + <p> + “Her misfortune will only make her dearer to me. I cannot realize that a + month ago I did not know her. It seems to me that she has been a part of + my life for ever. I wonder if she was grieved that I did not go to the + orchard last night—if she waited for me. If she does, she does not + know it herself yet. It will be my sweet task to teach her what love + means, and no man has ever had a lovelier, purer, pupil.” + </p> + <p> + At the annual school meeting, the next afternoon, the trustees asked Eric + to take the Lindsay school for the following year. He consented + unhesitatingly. + </p> + <p> + That evening he went to Mrs. Williamson, as she washed her tea dishes in + the kitchen. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Williamson, I am going back to the old Connors orchard to see + Kilmeny again to-night.” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him reproachfully. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Master, I have no more to say. I suppose it wouldn’t be of any use + if I had. But you know what I think of it.” + </p> + <p> + “I intend to marry Kilmeny Gordon if I can win her.” + </p> + <p> + An expression of amazement came into the good woman’s face. She looked + scrutinizingly at the firm mouth and steady gray eyes for a moment. Then + she said in a troubled voice, + </p> + <p> + “Do you think that is wise, Master? I suppose Kilmeny is pretty; the egg + peddler told me she was; and no doubt she is a good, nice girl. But she + wouldn’t be a suitable wife for you—a girl that can’t speak.” + </p> + <p> + “That doesn’t make any difference to me.” + </p> + <p> + “But what will your people say?” + </p> + <p> + “I have no ‘people’ except my father. When he sees Kilmeny he will + understand. She is all the world to me, Mrs. Williamson.” + </p> + <p> + “As long as you believe that there is nothing more to be said,” was the + quiet answer, “I’d be a little bit afraid if I was you, though. But young + people never think of those things.” + </p> + <p> + “My only fear is that she won’t care for me,” said Eric soberly. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Williamson surveyed the handsome, broad-shouldered young man + shrewdly. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t think there are many women would say you ‘no’, Master. I wish you + well in your wooing, though I can’t help thinking you’re doing a daft-like + thing. I hope you won’t have any trouble with Thomas and Janet. They are + so different from other folks there is no knowing. But take my advice, + Master, and go and see them about it right off. Don’t go on meeting + Kilmeny unbeknownst to them.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall certainly take your advice,” said Eric, gravely. “I should have + gone to them before. It was merely thoughtlessness on my part. Possibly + they do know already. Kilmeny may have told them.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Williamson shook her head decidedly. + </p> + <p> + “No, no, Master, she hasn’t. They’d never have let her go on meeting you + there if they had known. I know them too well to think of that for a + moment. Go you straight to them and say to them just what you have said to + me. That is your best plan, Master. And take care of Neil. People say he + has a notion of Kilmeny himself. He’ll do you a bad turn if he can, I’ve + no doubt. Them foreigners can’t be trusted—and he’s just as much a + foreigner as his parents before him—though he HAS been brought up on + oatmeal and the shorter catechism, as the old saying has it. I feel that + somehow—I always feel it when I look at him singing in the choir.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I am not afraid of Neil,” said Eric carelessly. “He couldn’t help + loving Kilmeny—nobody could.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose every young man thinks that about his girl—if he’s the + right sort of young man,” said Mrs. Williamson with a little sigh. + </p> + <p> + She watched Eric out of sight anxiously. + </p> + <p> + “I hope it’ll all come out right,” she thought. “I hope he ain’t making an + awful mistake—but—I’m afraid. Kilmeny must be very pretty to + have bewitched him so. Well, I suppose there is no use in my worrying over + it. But I do wish he had never gone back to that old orchard and seen + her.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI. A LOVER AND HIS LASS + </h2> + <p> + Kilmeny was in the orchard when Eric reached it, and he lingered for a + moment in the shadow of the spruce wood to dream over her beauty. + </p> + <p> + The orchard had lately overflowed in waves of old-fashioned caraway, and + she was standing in the midst of its sea of bloom, with the lace-like + blossoms swaying around her in the wind. She wore the simple dress of pale + blue print in which he had first seen her; silk attire could not better + have become her loveliness. She had woven herself a chaplet of half open + white rosebuds and placed it on her dark hair, where the delicate blossoms + seemed less wonderful than her face. + </p> + <p> + When Eric stepped through the gap she ran to meet him with outstretched + hands, smiling. He took her hands and looked into her eyes with an + expression before which hers for the first time faltered. She looked down, + and a warm blush strained the ivory curves of her cheek and throat. His + heart bounded, for in that blush he recognized the banner of love’s + vanguard. + </p> + <p> + “Are you glad to see me, Kilmeny?” he asked, in a low significant tone. + </p> + <p> + She nodded, and wrote in a somewhat embarrassed fashion, + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Why do you ask? You know I am always glad to see you. I was afraid + you would not come. You did not come last night and I was so sorry. + Nothing in the orchard seemed nice any longer. I couldn’t even play. I + tried to, and my violin only cried. I waited until it was dark and then I + went home.” + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry you were disappointed, Kilmeny. I couldn’t come last night. + Some day I shall tell you why. I stayed home to learn a new lesson. I am + sorry you missed me—no, I am glad. Can you understand how a person + may be glad and sorry for the same thing?” + </p> + <p> + She nodded again, with a return of her usual sweet composure. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I could not have understood once, but I can now. Did you learn your + new lesson?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, very thoroughly. It was a delightful lesson when I once understood + it. I must try to teach it to you some day. Come over to the old bench, + Kilmeny. There is something I want to say to you. But first, will you give + me a rose?” + </p> + <p> + She ran to the bush, and, after careful deliberation, selected a perfect + half-open bud and brought it to him—a white bud with a faint, + sunrise flush about its golden heart. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you. It is as beautiful as—as a woman I know,” Eric said. + </p> + <p> + A wistful look came into her face at his words, and she walked with a + drooping head across the orchard to the bench. + </p> + <p> + “Kilmeny,” he said, seriously, “I am going to ask you to do something for + me. I want you to take me home with you and introduce me to your uncle and + aunt.” + </p> + <p> + She lifted her head and stared at him incredulously, as if he had asked + her to do something wildly impossible. Understanding from his grave face + that he meant what he said, a look of dismay dawned in her eyes. She shook + her head almost violently and seemed to be making a passionate, + instinctive effort to speak. Then she caught up her pencil and wrote with + feverish haste: + </p> + <p> + “I cannot do that. Do not ask me to. You do not understand. They would be + very angry. They do not want to see any one coming to the house. And they + would never let me come here again. Oh, you do not mean it?” + </p> + <p> + He pitied her for the pain and bewilderment in her eyes; but he took her + slender hands in his and said firmly, + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Kilmeny, I do mean it. It is not quite right for us to be meeting + each other here as we have been doing, without the knowledge and consent + of your friends. You cannot now understand this, but—believe me—it + is so.” + </p> + <p> + She looked questioningly, pityingly into his eyes. What she read there + seemed to convince her, for she turned very pale and an expression of + hopelessness came into her face. Releasing her hands, she wrote slowly, + </p> + <p> + “If you say it is wrong I must believe it. I did not know anything so + pleasant could be wrong. But if it is wrong we must not meet here any + more. Mother told me I must never do anything that was wrong. But I did + not know this was wrong.” + </p> + <p> + “It was not wrong for you, Kilmeny. But it was a little wrong for me, + because I knew better—or rather, should have known better. I didn’t + stop to think, as the children say. Some day you will understand fully. + Now, you will take me to your uncle and aunt, and after I have said to + them what I want to say it will be all right for us to meet here or + anywhere.” + </p> + <p> + She shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “No,” she wrote, “Uncle Thomas and Aunt Janet will tell you to go away and + never come back. And they will never let me come here any more. Since it + is not right to meet you I will not come, but it is no use to think of + going to them. I did not tell them about you because I knew that they + would forbid me to see you, but I am sorry, since it is so wrong.” + </p> + <p> + “You must take me to them,” said Eric firmly. “I am quite sure that things + will not be as you fear when they hear what I have to say.” + </p> + <p> + Uncomforted, she wrote forlornly, + </p> + <p> + “I must do it, since you insist, but I am sure it will be no use. I cannot + take you to-night because they are away. They went to the store at Radnor. + But I will take you to-morrow night; and after that I shall not see you + any more.” + </p> + <p> + Two great tears brimmed over in her big blue eyes and splashed down on her + slate. Her lips quivered like a hurt child’s. Eric put his arm impulsively + about her and drew her head down upon his shoulder. As she cried there, + softly, miserably, he pressed his lips to the silky black hair with its + coronal of rosebuds. He did not see two burning eyes which were looking at + him over the old fence behind him with hatred and mad passion blazing in + their depths. Neil Gordon was crouched there, with clenched hands and + heaving breast, watching them. + </p> + <p> + “Kilmeny, dear, don’t cry,” said Eric tenderly. “You shall see me again. I + promise you that, whatever happens. I do not think your uncle and aunt + will be as unreasonable as you fear, but even if they are they shall not + prevent me from meeting you somehow.” + </p> + <p> + Kilmeny lifted her head, and wiped the tears from her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “You do not know what they are like,” she wrote. “They will lock me into + my room. That is the way they always punished me when I was a little girl. + And once, not so very long ago, when I was a big girl, they did it.” + </p> + <p> + “If they do I’ll get you out somehow,” said Eric, laughing a little. + </p> + <p> + She allowed herself to smile, but it was a rather forlorn little effort. + She did not cry any more, but her spirits did not come back to her. Eric + talked gaily, but she only listened in a pensive, absent way, as if she + scarcely heard him. When he asked her to play she shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “I cannot think any music to-night,” she wrote, “I must go home, for my + head aches and I feel very stupid.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, Kilmeny. Now, don’t worry, little girl. It will all come out + all right.” + </p> + <p> + Evidently she did not share his confidence, for her head drooped again as + they walked together across the orchard. At the entrance of the wild + cherry lane she paused and looked at him half reproachfully, her eyes + filling again. She seemed to be bidding him a mute farewell. With an + impulse of tenderness which he could not control, Eric put his arm about + her and kissed her red, trembling mouth. She started back with a little + cry. A burning colour swept over her face, and the next moment she fled + swiftly up the darkening lane. + </p> + <p> + The sweetness of that involuntary kiss clung to Eric’s lips as he went + homeward, half-intoxicating him. He knew that it had opened the gates of + womanhood to Kilmeny. Never again, he felt, would her eyes meet his with + their old unclouded frankness. When next he looked into them he knew that + he should see there the consciousness of his kiss. Behind her in the + orchard that night Kilmeny had left her childhood. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII. A PRISONER OF LOVE + </h2> + <p> + When Eric betook himself to the orchard the next evening he had to admit + that he felt rather nervous. He did not know how the Gordons would receive + him and certainly the reports he had heard of them were not encouraging, + to say the least of it. Even Mrs. Williamson, when he had told her where + he was going, seemed to look upon him as one bent on bearding a lion in + his den. + </p> + <p> + “I do hope they won’t be very uncivil to you, Master,” was the best she + could say. + </p> + <p> + He expected Kilmeny to be in the orchard before him, for he had been + delayed by a call from one of the trustees; but she was nowhere to be + seen. He walked across it to the wild cherry lane; but at its entrance he + stopped short in sudden dismay. + </p> + <p> + Neil Gordon had stepped from behind the trees and stood confronting him, + with blazing eyes, and lips which writhed in emotion so great that at + first it prevented him from speaking. + </p> + <p> + With a thrill of dismay Eric instantly understood what must have taken + place. Neil had discovered that he and Kilmeny had been meeting in the + orchard, and beyond doubt had carried that tale to Janet and Thomas + Gordon. He realized how unfortunate it was that this should have happened + before he had had time to make his own explanation. It would probably + prejudice Kilmeny’s guardians still further against him. At this point in + his thoughts Neil’s pent up passion suddenly found vent in a burst of wild + words. + </p> + <p> + “So you’ve come to meet her again. But she isn’t here—you’ll never + see her again! I hate you—I hate you—I hate you!” + </p> + <p> + His voice rose to a shrill scream. He took a furious step nearer Eric as + if he would attack him. Eric looked steadily in his eyes with a calm + defiance, before which his wild passion broke like foam on a rock. + </p> + <p> + “So you have been making trouble for Kilmeny, Neil, have you?” said Eric + contemptuously. “I suppose you have been playing the spy. And I suppose + that you have told her uncle and aunt that she has been meeting me here. + Well, you have saved me the trouble of doing it, that is all. I was going + to tell them myself, tonight. I don’t know what your motive in doing this + has been. Was it jealousy of me? Or have you done it out of malice to + Kilmeny?” + </p> + <p> + His contempt cowed Neil more effectually than any display of anger could + have done. + </p> + <p> + “Never you mind why I did it,” he muttered sullenly. “What I did or why I + did it is no business of yours. And you have no business to come sneaking + around here either. Kilmeny won’t meet you here again.” + </p> + <p> + “She will meet me in her own home then,” said Eric sternly. “Neil, in + behaving as you have done you have shown yourself to be a very foolish, + undisciplined boy. I am going straightway to Kilmeny’s uncle and aunt to + explain everything.” + </p> + <p> + Neil sprang forward in his path. + </p> + <p> + “No—no—go away,” he implored wildly. “Oh, sir—oh, Mr. + Marshall, please go away. I’ll do anything for you if you will. I love + Kilmeny. I’ve loved her all my life. I’d give my life for her. I can’t + have you coming here to steal her from me. If you do—I’ll kill you! + I wanted to kill you last night when I saw you kiss her. Oh, yes, I saw + you. I was watching—spying, if you like. I don’t care what you call + it. I had followed her—I suspected something. She was so different—so + changed. She never would wear the flowers I picked for her any more. She + seemed to forget I was there. I knew something had come between us. And it + was you, curse you! Oh, I’ll make you sorry for it.” + </p> + <p> + He was working himself up into a fury again—the untamed fury of the + Italian peasant thwarted in his heart’s desire. It overrode all the + restraint of his training and environment. Eric, amid all his anger and + annoyance, felt a thrill of pity for him. Neil Gordon was only a boy + still; and he was miserable and beside himself. + </p> + <p> + “Neil, listen to me,” he said quietly. “You are talking very foolishly. It + is not for you to say who shall or shall not be Kilmeny’s friend. Now, you + may just as well control yourself and go home like a decent fellow. I am + not at all frightened by your threats, and I shall know how to deal with + you if you persist in interfering with me or persecuting Kilmeny. I am not + the sort of person to put up with that, my lad.” + </p> + <p> + The restrained power in his tone and look cowed Neil. The latter turned + sullenly away, with another muttered curse, and plunged into the shadow of + the firs. + </p> + <p> + Eric, not a little ruffled under all his external composure by this most + unexpected and unpleasant encounter, pursued his way along the lane which + wound on by the belt of woodland in twist and curve to the Gordon + homestead. His heart beat as he thought of Kilmeny. What might she not be + suffering? Doubtless Neil had given a very exaggerated and distorted + account of what he had seen, and probably her dour relations were very + angry with her, poor child. Anxious to avert their wrath as soon as might + be, he hurried on, almost forgetting his meeting with Neil. The threats of + the latter did not trouble him at all. He thought the angry outburst of a + jealous boy mattered but little. What did matter was that Kilmeny was in + trouble which his heedlessness had brought upon her. + </p> + <p> + Presently he found himself before the Gordon house. It was an old building + with sharp eaves and dormer windows, its shingles stained a dark gray by + long exposure to wind and weather. Faded green shutters hung on the + windows of the lower story. Behind it grew a thick wood of spruces. The + little yard in front of it was grassy and prim and flowerless; but over + the low front door a luxuriant early-flowering rose vine clambered, in a + riot of blood-red blossom which contrasted strangely with the general + bareness of its surroundings. It seemed to fling itself over the grim old + house as if intent on bombarding it with an alien life and joyousness. + </p> + <p> + Eric knocked at the door, wondering if it might be possible that Kilmeny + should come to it. But a moment later it was opened by an elderly woman—a + woman of rigid lines from the hem of her lank, dark print dress to the + crown of her head, covered with black hair which, despite its few gray + threads, was still thick and luxuriant. She had a long, pale face somewhat + worn and wrinkled, but possessing a certain harsh comeliness of feature + which neither age nor wrinkles had quite destroyed; and her deep-set, + light gray eyes were not devoid of suggested kindliness, although they now + surveyed Eric with an unconcealed hostility. Her figure, in its merciless + dress, was very angular; yet there was about her a dignity of carriage and + manner which Eric liked. In any case, he preferred her unsmiling dourness + to vulgar garrulity. + </p> + <p> + He lifted his hat. + </p> + <p> + “Have I the honour of speaking to Miss Gordon?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “I am Janet Gordon,” said the woman stiffly. + </p> + <p> + “Then I wish to talk with you and your brother.” + </p> + <p> + “Come in.” + </p> + <p> + She stepped aside and motioned him to a low brown door opening on the + right. + </p> + <p> + “Go in and sit down. I’ll call Thomas,” she said coldly, as she walked out + through the hall. + </p> + <p> + Eric walked into the parlour and sat down as bidden. He found himself in + the most old-fashioned room he had ever seen. The solidly made chairs and + tables, of some wood grown dark and polished with age, made even Mrs. + Williamson’s “parlour set” of horsehair seem extravagantly modern by + contrast. The painted floor was covered with round braided rugs. On the + centre table was a lamp, a Bible and some theological volumes contemporary + with the square-runged furniture. The walls, wainscoted half way up in + wood and covered for the rest with a dark, diamond-patterned paper, were + hung with faded engravings, mostly of clerical-looking, bewigged + personages in gowns and bands. + </p> + <p> + But over the high, undecorated black mantel-piece, in a ruddy glow of + sunset light striking through the window, hung one which caught and held + Eric’s attention to the exclusion of everything else. It was the enlarged + “crayon” photograph of a young girl, and, in spite of the crudity of + execution, it was easily the center of interest in the room. + </p> + <p> + Eric at once guessed that this must be the picture of Margaret Gordon, + for, although quite unlike Kilmeny’s sensitive, spirited face in general, + there was a subtle, unmistakable resemblance about brow and chin. + </p> + <p> + The pictured face was a very handsome one, suggestive of velvety dark eyes + and vivid colouring; but it was its expression rather than its beauty + which fascinated Eric. Never had he seen a countenance indicative of more + intense and stubborn will power. Margaret Gordon was dead and buried; the + picture was a cheap and inartistic production in an impossible frame of + gilt and plush; yet the vitality in that face dominated its surroundings + still. What then must have been the power of such a personality in life? + </p> + <p> + Eric realized that this woman could and would have done whatsoever she + willed, unflinchingly and unrelentingly. She could stamp her desire on + everything and everybody about her, moulding them to her wish and will, in + their own despite and in defiance of all the resistance they might make. + Many things in Kilmeny’s upbringing and temperament became clear to him. + </p> + <p> + “If that woman had told me I was ugly I should have believed her,” he + thought. “Ay, even though I had a mirror to contradict her. I should never + have dreamed of disputing or questioning anything she might have said. The + strange power in her face is almost uncanny, peering out as it does from a + mask of beauty and youthful curves. Pride and stubbornness are its salient + characteristics. Well, Kilmeny does not at all resemble her mother in + expression and only very slightly in feature.” + </p> + <p> + His reflections were interrupted by the entrance of Thomas and Janet + Gordon. The former had evidently been called from his work. He nodded + without speaking, and the two sat gravely down before Eric. + </p> + <p> + “I have come to see you with regard to your niece, Mr. Gordon,” he said + abruptly, realizing that there would be small use in beating about the + bush with this grim pair. “I met your—I met Neil Gordon in the + Connors orchard, and I found that he has told you that I have been meeting + Kilmeny there.” + </p> + <p> + He paused. Thomas Gordon nodded again; but he did not speak, and he did + not remove his steady, piercing eyes from the young man’s flushed + countenance. Janet still sat in a sort of expectant immovability. + </p> + <p> + “I fear that you have formed an unfavourable opinion of me on this + account, Mr. Gordon,” Eric went on. “But I hardly think I deserve it. I + can explain the matter if you will allow me. I met your niece accidentally + in the orchard three weeks ago and heard her play. I thought her music + very wonderful and I fell into the habit of coming to the orchard in the + evenings to hear it. I had no thought of harming her in any way, Mr. + Gordon. I thought of her as a mere child, and a child who was doubly + sacred because of her affliction. But recently I—I—it occurred + to me that I was not behaving quite honourably in encouraging her to meet + me thus. Yesterday evening I asked her to bring me here and introduce me + to you and her aunt. We would have come then if you had been at home. As + you were not we arranged to come tonight.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope you will not refuse me the privilege of seeing your niece, Mr. + Gordon,” said Eric eagerly. “I ask you to allow me to visit her here. But + I do not ask you to receive me as a friend on my own recommendations only. + I will give you references—men of standing in Charlottetown and + Queenslea. If you refer to them—” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t need to do that,” said Thomas Gordon, quietly. “I know more of + you than you think, Master. I know your father well by reputation and I + have seen him. I know you are a rich man’s son, whatever your whim in + teaching a country school may be. Since you have kept your own counsel + about your affairs I supposed you didn’t want your true position generally + known, and so I have held my tongue about you. I know no ill of you, + Master, and I think none, now that I believe you were not beguiling + Kilmeny to meet you unknown to her friends of set purpose. But all this + doesn’t make you a suitable friend for her, sir—it makes you all the + more unsuitable. The less she sees of you the better.” + </p> + <p> + Eric almost started to his feet in an indignant protest; but he swiftly + remembered that his only hope of winning Kilmeny lay in bringing Thomas + Gordon to another way of thinking. He had got on better than he had + expected so far; he must not now jeopardize what he had gained by rashness + or impatience. + </p> + <p> + “Why do you think so, Mr. Gordon?” he asked, regaining his self-control + with an effort. + </p> + <p> + “Well, plain speaking is best, Master. If you were to come here and see + Kilmeny often she’d most likely come to think too much of you. I mistrust + there’s some mischief done in that direction already. Then when you went + away she might break her heart—for she is one of those who feel + things deeply. She has been happy enough. I know folks condemn us for the + way she has been brought up, but they don’t know everything. It was the + best way for her, all things considered. And we don’t want her made + unhappy, Master.” + </p> + <p> + “But I love your niece and I want to marry her if I can win her love,” + said Eric steadily. + </p> + <p> + He surprised them out of their self possession at last. Both started, and + looked at him as if they could not believe the evidence of their ears. + </p> + <p> + “Marry her! Marry Kilmeny!” exclaimed Thomas Gordon incredulously. “You + can’t mean it, sir. Why, she is dumb—Kilmeny is dumb.” + </p> + <p> + “That makes no difference in my love for her, although I deeply regret it + for her own sake,” answered Eric. “I can only repeat what I have already + said, Mr. Gordon. I want Kilmeny for my wife.” + </p> + <p> + The older man leaned forward and looked at the floor in a troubled + fashion, drawing his bushy eyebrows down and tapping the calloused tips of + his fingers together uneasily. He was evidently puzzled by this unexpected + turn of the conversation, and in grave doubt what to say. + </p> + <p> + “What would your father say to all this, Master?” he queried at last. + </p> + <p> + “I have often heard my father say that a man must marry to please + himself,” said Eric, with a smile. “If he felt tempted to go back on that + opinion I think the sight of Kilmeny would convert him. But, after all, it + is what I say that matters in this case, isn’t it, Mr. Gordon? I am well + educated and not afraid of work. I can make a home for Kilmeny in a few + years even if I have to depend entirely on my own resources. Only give me + the chance to win her—that is all I ask.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t think it would do, Master,” said Thomas Gordon, shaking his head. + “Of course, I dare say you—you”—he tried to say “love,” but + Scotch reserve balked stubbornly at the terrible word—“you think you + like Kilmeny now, but you are only a lad—and lads’ fancies change.” + </p> + <p> + “Mine will not,” Eric broke in vehemently. “It is not a fancy, Mr. Gordon. + It is the love that comes once in a lifetime and once only. I may be but a + lad, but I know that Kilmeny is the one woman in the world for me. There + can never be any other. Oh, I’m not speaking rashly or inconsiderately. I + have weighed the matter well and looked at it from every aspect. And it + all comes to this—I love Kilmeny and I want what any decent man who + loves a woman truly has the right to have—the chance to win her love + in return.” + </p> + <p> + “Well!” Thomas Gordon drew a long breath that was almost a sigh. “Maybe—if + you feel like that, Master—I don’t know—there are some things + it isn’t right to cross. Perhaps we oughtn’t—Janet, woman, what + shall we say to him?” + </p> + <p> + Janet Gordon had hitherto spoken no word. She had sat rigidly upright on + one of the old chairs under Margaret Gordon’s insistent picture, with her + knotted, toil-worn hands grasping the carved arms tightly, and her eyes + fastened on Eric’s face. At first their expression had been guarded and + hostile, but as the conversation proceeded they lost this gradually and + became almost kindly. Now, when her brother appealed to her, she leaned + forward and said eagerly, + </p> + <p> + “Do you know that there is a stain on Kilmeny’s birth, Master?” + </p> + <p> + “I know that her mother was the innocent victim of a very sad mistake, + Miss Gordon. I admit no real stain where there was no conscious wrong + doing. Though, for that matter, even if there were, it would be no fault + of Kilmeny’s and would make no difference to me as far as she is + concerned.” + </p> + <p> + A sudden change swept over Janet Gordon’s face, quite marvelous in the + transformation it wrought. Her grim mouth softened and a flood of + repressed tenderness glorified her cold gray eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Well, then.” she said almost triumphantly, “since neither that nor her + dumbness seems to be any drawback in your eyes I don’t see why you should + not have the chance you want. Perhaps your world will say she is not good + enough for you, but she is—she is”—this half defiantly. “She + is a sweet and innocent and true-hearted lassie. She is bright and clever + and she is not ill looking. Thomas, I say let the young man have his + will.” + </p> + <p> + Thomas Gordon stood up, as if he considered the responsibility off his + shoulders and the interview at an end. + </p> + <p> + “Very well, Janet, woman, since you think it is wise. And may God deal + with him as he deals with her. Good evening, Master. I’ll see you again, + and you are free to come and go as suits you. But I must go to my work + now. I left my horses standing in the field.” + </p> + <p> + “I will go up and send Kilmeny down,” said Janet quietly. + </p> + <p> + She lighted the lamp on the table and left the room. A few minutes later + Kilmeny came down. Eric rose and went to meet her eagerly, but she only + put out her right hand with a pretty dignity and, while she looked into + his face, she did not look into his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “You see I was right after all, Kilmeny,” he said, smiling. “Your uncle + and aunt haven’t driven me away. On the contrary they have been very kind + to me, and they say I may see you whenever and wherever I like.” + </p> + <p> + She smiled, and went over to the table to write on her slate. + </p> + <p> + “But they were very angry last night, and said dreadful things to me. I + felt very frightened and unhappy. They seemed to think I had done + something terribly wrong. Uncle Thomas said he would never trust me out of + his sight again. I could hardly believe it when Aunt Janet came up and + told me you were here and that I might come down. She looked at me very + strangely as she spoke, but I could see that all the anger had gone out of + her face. She seemed pleased and yet sad. But I am glad they have forgiven + us.” + </p> + <p> + She did not tell him how glad she was, and how unhappy she had been over + the thought that she was never to see him again. Yesterday she would have + told him all frankly and fully; but for her yesterday was a lifetime away—a + lifetime in which she had come into her heritage of womanly dignity and + reserve. The kiss which Eric had left on her lips, the words her uncle and + aunt had said to her, the tears she had shed for the first time on a + sleepless pillow—all had conspired to reveal her to herself. She did + not yet dream that she loved Eric Marshall, or that he loved her. But she + was no longer the child to be made a dear comrade of. She was, though + quite unconsciously, the woman to be wooed and won, exacting, with sweet, + innate pride, her dues of allegiance. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII. A SWEETER WOMAN NE’ER DREW BREATH + </h2> + <p> + Thenceforward Eric Marshall was a constant visitor at the Gordon + homestead. He soon became a favourite with Thomas and Janet, especially + the latter. He liked them both, discovering under all their outward + peculiarities sterling worth and fitness of character. Thomas Gordon was + surprisingly well read and could floor Eric any time in argument, once he + became sufficiently warmed up to attain fluency of words. Eric hardly + recognized him the first time he saw him thus animated. His bent form + straightened, his sunken eyes flashed, his face flushed, his voice rang + like a trumpet, and he poured out a flood of eloquence which swept Eric’s + smart, up-to-date arguments away like straws in the rush of a mountain + torrent. Eric enjoyed his own defeat enormously, but Thomas Gordon was + ashamed of being thus drawn out of himself, and for a week afterwards + confined his remarks to “Yes” and “No,” or, at the outside, to a brief + statement that a change in the weather was brewing. + </p> + <p> + Janet never talked on matters of church and state; such she plainly + considered to be far beyond a woman’s province. But she listened with + lurking interest in her eyes while Thomas and Eric pelted on each other + with facts and statistics and opinions, and on the rare occasions when + Eric scored a point she permitted herself a sly little smile at her + brother’s expense. + </p> + <p> + Of Neil, Eric saw but little. The Italian boy avoided him, or if they + chanced to meet passed him by with sullen, downcast eyes. Eric did not + trouble himself greatly about Neil; but Thomas Gordon, understanding the + motive which had led Neil to betray his discovery of the orchard trysts, + bluntly told Kilmeny that she must not make such an equal of Neil as she + had done. + </p> + <p> + “You have been too kind to the lad, lassie, and he’s got presumptuous. He + must be taught his place. I mistrust we have all made more of him than we + should.” + </p> + <p> + But most of the idyllic hours of Eric’s wooing were spent in the old + orchard; the garden end of it was now a wilderness of roses—roses + red as the heart of a sunset, roses pink as the early flush of dawn, roses + white as the snows on mountain peaks, roses full blown, and roses in buds + that were sweeter than anything on earth except Kilmeny’s face. Their + petals fell in silken heaps along the old paths or clung to the lush + grasses among which Eric lay and dreamed, while Kilmeny played to him on + her violin. + </p> + <p> + Eric promised himself that when she was his wife her wonderful gift for + music should be cultivated to the utmost. Her powers of expression seemed + to deepen and develop every day, growing as her soul grew, taking on new + colour and richness from her ripening heart. + </p> + <p> + To Eric, the days were all pages in an inspired idyl. He had never dreamed + that love could be so mighty or the world so beautiful. He wondered if the + universe were big enough to hold his joy or eternity long enough to live + it out. His whole existence was, for the time being, bounded by that + orchard where he wooed his sweetheart. All other ambitions and plans and + hopes were set aside in the pursuit of this one aim, the attainment of + which would enhance all others a thousand-fold, the loss of which would + rob all others of their reason for existence. His own world seemed very + far away and the things of that world forgotten. + </p> + <p> + His father, on hearing that he had taken the Lindsay school for a year, + had written him a testy, amazed letter, asking him if he were demented. + </p> + <p> + “Or is there a girl in the case?” he wrote. “There must be, to tie you + down to a place like Lindsay for a year. Take care, master Eric; you’ve + been too sensible all your life. A man is bound to make a fool of himself + at least once, and when you didn’t get through with that in your teens it + may be attacking you now.” + </p> + <p> + David also wrote, expostulating more gravely; but he did not express the + suspicions Eric knew he must entertain. + </p> + <p> + “Good old David! He is quaking with fear that I am up to something he + can’t approve of, but he won’t say a word by way of attempting to force my + confidence.” + </p> + <p> + It could not long remain a secret in Lindsay that “the Master” was going + to the Gordon place on courting thoughts intent. Mrs. Williamson kept her + own and Eric’s counsel; the Gordons said nothing; but the secret leaked + out and great was the surprise and gossip and wonder. One or two + incautious people ventured to express their opinion of the Master’s wisdom + to the Master himself; but they never repeated the experiment. Curiosity + was rife. A hundred stories were circulated about Kilmeny, all greatly + exaggerated in the circulation. Wise heads were shaken and the majority + opined that it was a great pity. The Master was a likely young fellow; he + could have his pick of almost anybody, you might think; it was too bad + that he should go and take up with that queer, dumb niece of the Gordons + who had been brought up in such a heathenish way. But then you never could + guess what way a man’s fancy would jump when he set out to pick him a + wife. They guessed Neil Gordon didn’t like it much. He seemed to have got + dreadful moody and sulky of late and wouldn’t sing in the choir any more. + Thus the buzz of comment and gossip ran. + </p> + <p> + To those two in the old orchard it mattered not a whit. Kilmeny knew + nothing of gossip. To her, Lindsay was as much of an unknown world as the + city of Eric’s home. Her thoughts strayed far and wide in the realm of her + fancy, but they never wandered out to the little realities that hedged her + strange life around. In that life she had blossomed out, a fair, unique + thing. There were times when Eric almost regretted that one day he must + take her out of her white solitude to a world that, in the last analysis, + was only Lindsay on a larger scale, with just the same pettiness of + thought and feeling and opinion at the bottom of it. He wished he might + keep her to himself for ever, in that old, spruce-hidden orchard where the + roses fell. + </p> + <p> + One day he indulged himself in the fulfillment of the whim he had formed + when Kilmeny had told him she thought herself ugly. He went to Janet and + asked her permission to bring a mirror to the house that he might have the + privilege of being the first to reveal Kilmeny to herself exteriorly. + Janet was somewhat dubious at first. + </p> + <p> + “There hasn’t been such a thing in the house for sixteen years, Master. + There never was but three—one in the spare room, and a little one in + the kitchen, and Margaret’s own. She broke them all the day it first + struck her that Kilmeny was going to be bonny. I might have got one after + she died maybe. But I didn’t think of it; and there’s no need of lasses to + be always prinking at their looking glasses.” + </p> + <p> + But Eric pleaded and argued skilfully, and finally Janet said, + </p> + <p> + “Well, well, have your own way. You’d have it anyway I think, lad. You are + one of those men who always get their own way. But that is different from + the men who TAKE their own way—and that’s a mercy,” she added under + her breath. + </p> + <p> + Eric went to town the next Saturday and picked out a mirror that pleased + him. He had it shipped to Radnor and Thomas Gordon brought it home, not + knowing what it was, for Janet had thought it just as well he should not + know. + </p> + <p> + “It’s a present the Master is making Kilmeny,” she told him. + </p> + <p> + She sent Kilmeny off to the orchard after tea, and Eric slipped around to + the house by way of the main road and lane. He and Janet together unpacked + the mirror and hung it on the parlour wall. + </p> + <p> + “I never saw such a big one, Master,” said Janet rather doubtfully, as if, + after all, she distrusted its gleaming, pearly depth and richly ornamented + frame. “I hope it won’t make her vain. She is very bonny, but it may not + do her any good to know it.” + </p> + <p> + “It won’t harm her,” said Eric confidently. “When a belief in her ugliness + hasn’t spoiled a girl a belief in her beauty won’t.” + </p> + <p> + But Janet did not understand epigrams. She carefully removed a little dust + from the polished surface, and frowned meditatively at the by no means + beautiful reflection she saw therein. + </p> + <p> + “I cannot think what made Kilmeny suppose she was ugly, Master.” + </p> + <p> + “Her mother told her she was,” said Eric, rather bitterly. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” Janet shot a quick glance at the picture of her sister. “Was that + it? Margaret was a strange woman, Master. I suppose she thought her own + beauty had been a snare to her. She WAS bonny. That picture doesn’t do her + justice. I never liked it. It was taken before she was—before she + met Ronald Fraser. We none of us thought it very like her at the time. + But, Master, three years later it was like her—oh, it was like her + then! That very look came in her face.” + </p> + <p> + “Kilmeny doesn’t resemble her mother,” remarked Eric, glancing at the + picture with the same feeling of mingled fascination and distaste with + which he always regarded it. “Does she look like her father?” + </p> + <p> + “No, not a great deal, though some of her ways are very like his. She + looks like her grandmother—Margaret’s mother, Master. Her name was + Kilmeny too, and she was a handsome, sweet woman. I was very fond of my + stepmother, Master. When she died she gave her baby to me, and asked me to + be a mother to it. Ah well, I tried; but I couldn’t fence the sorrow out + of Margaret’s life, and it sometimes comes to my mind that maybe I’ll not + be able to fence it out of Kilmeny’s either.” + </p> + <p> + “That will be my task,” said Eric. + </p> + <p> + “You’ll do your best, I do not doubt. But maybe it will be through you + that sorrow will come to her after all.” + </p> + <p> + “Not through any fault of mine, Aunt Janet.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, I’m not saying it will be your fault. But my heart misgives me at + times. Oh, I dare say I am only a foolish old woman, Master. Go your ways + and bring your lass here to look at your plaything when you like. I’ll not + make or meddle with it.” + </p> + <p> + Janet betook herself to the kitchen and Eric went to look for Kilmeny. She + was not in the orchard and it was not until he had searched for some time + that he found her. She was standing under a beech tree in a field beyond + the orchard, leaning on the longer fence, with her hands clasped against + her cheek. In them she held a white Mary-lily from the orchard. She did + not run to meet him while he was crossing the pasture, as she would once + have done. She waited motionless until he was close to her. Eric began, + half laughingly, half tenderly, to quote some lines from her namesake + ballad: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “‘Kilmeny, Kilmeny, where have you been? + Long hae we sought baith holt and den,— + By linn, by ford, and greenwood tree! + Yet you are halesome and fair to see. + Where got you that joup o’ the lily sheen? + That bonny snood o’ the birk sae green, + And those roses, the fairest that ever was seen? + Kilmeny, Kilmeny, where have you been?’ +</pre> + <p> + “Only it’s a lily and not a rose you are carrying. I might go on and quote + the next couplet too— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “‘Kilmeny looked up with a lovely grace, + But there was nae smile on Kilmeny’s face.’ +</pre> + <p> + “Why are you looking so sober?” + </p> + <p> + Kilmeny did not have her slate with her and could not answer; but Eric + guessed from something in her eyes that she was bitterly contrasting the + beauty of the ballad’s heroine with her own supposed ugliness. + </p> + <p> + “Come down to the house, Kilmeny. I have something there to show you—something + lovelier than you have ever seen before,” he said, with boyish pleasure + shining in his eyes. “I want you to go and put on that muslin dress you + wore last Sunday evening, and pin up your hair the same way you did then. + Run along—don’t wait for me. But you are not to go into the parlour + until I come. I want to pick some of those Mary-lilies up in the orchard.” + </p> + <p> + When Eric returned to the house with an armful of the long stemmed, white + Madonna lilies that bloomed in the orchard Kilmeny was just coming down + the steep, narrow staircase with its striped carpeting of homespun + drugget. Her marvelous loveliness was brought out into brilliant relief by + the dark wood work and shadows of the dim old hall. + </p> + <p> + She wore a trailing, clinging dress of some creamy tinted fabric that had + been her mother’s. It had not been altered in any respect, for fashion + held no sway at the Gordon homestead, and Kilmeny thought that the dress + left nothing to be desired. Its quaint style suited her admirably; the + neck was slightly cut away to show the round white throat, and the sleeves + were long, full “bishops,” out of which her beautiful, slender hands + slipped like flowers from their sheaths. She had crossed her long braids + at the back and pinned them about her head like a coronet; a late white + rose was fastened low down on the left side. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “‘A man had given all other bliss + And all his worldly wealth for this— + To waste his whole heart in one kiss + Upon her perfect lips,’” + </pre> + <p> + quoted Eric in a whisper as he watched her descend. Aloud he said, + </p> + <p> + “Take these lilies on your arm, letting their bloom fall against your + shoulder—so. Now, give me your hand and shut your eyes. Don’t open + them until I say you may.” + </p> + <p> + He led her into the parlour and up to the mirror. + </p> + <p> + “Look,” he cried, gaily. + </p> + <p> + Kilmeny opened her eyes and looked straight into the mirror where, like a + lovely picture in a golden frame, she saw herself reflected. For a moment + she was bewildered. Then she realized what it meant. The lilies fell from + her arm to the floor and she turned pale. With a little low, involuntary + cry she put her hands over her face. + </p> + <p> + Eric pulled them boyishly away. + </p> + <p> + “Kilmeny, do you think you are ugly now? This is a truer mirror than Aunt + Janet’s silver sugar bowl! Look—look—look! Did you ever + imagine anything fairer than yourself, dainty Kilmeny?” + </p> + <p> + She was blushing now, and stealing shy radiant glances at the mirror. With + a smile she took her slate and wrote naively, + </p> + <p> + “I think I am pleasant to look upon. I cannot tell you how glad I am. It + is so dreadful to believe one is ugly. You can get used to everything + else, but you never get used to that. It hurts just the same every time + you remember it. But why did mother tell me I was ugly? Could she really + have thought so? Perhaps I have become better looking since I grew up.” + </p> + <p> + “I think perhaps your mother had found that beauty is not always a + blessing, Kilmeny, and thought it wiser not to let you know you possessed + it. Come, let us go back to the orchard now. We mustn’t waste this rare + evening in the house. There is going to be a sunset that we shall remember + all our lives. The mirror will hang here. It is yours. Don’t look into it + too often, though, or Aunt Janet will disapprove. She is afraid it will + make you vain.” + </p> + <p> + Kilmeny gave one of her rare, musical laughs, which Eric never heard + without a recurrence of the old wonder that she could laugh so when she + could not speak. She blew an airy little kiss at her mirrored face and + turned from it, smiling happily. + </p> + <p> + On their way to the orchard they met Neil. He went by them with an averted + face, but Kilmeny shivered and involuntarily drew nearer to Eric. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t understand Neil at all now,” she wrote nervously. “He is not + nice, as he used to be, and sometimes he will not answer when I speak to + him. And he looks so strangely at me, too. Besides, he is surly and + impertinent to Uncle and Aunt.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t mind Neil,” said Eric lightly. “He is probably sulky because of + some things I said to him when I found he had spied on us.” + </p> + <p> + That night before she went up stairs Kilmeny stole into the parlour for + another glimpse of herself in that wonderful mirror by the light of a dim + little candle she carried. She was still lingering there dreamily when + Aunt Janet’s grim face appeared in the shadows of the doorway. + </p> + <p> + “Are you thinking about your own good looks, lassie? Ay, but remember that + handsome is as handsome does,” she said, with grudging admiration—for + the girl with her flushed cheeks and shining eyes was something that even + dour Janet Gordon could not look upon unmoved. + </p> + <p> + Kilmeny smiled softly. + </p> + <p> + “I’ll try to remember,” she wrote, “but oh, Aunt Janet, I am so glad I am + not ugly. It is not wrong to be glad of that, is it?” + </p> + <p> + The older woman’s face softened. + </p> + <p> + “No, I don’t suppose it is, lassie,” she conceded. “A comely face is + something to be thankful for—as none know better than those who have + never possessed it. I remember well when I was a girl—but that is + neither here nor there. The Master thinks you are wonderful bonny, + Kilmeny,” she added, looking keenly at the girl. + </p> + <p> + Kilmeny started and a scarlet blush scorched her face. That, and the + expression that flashed into her eyes, told Janet Gordon all she wished to + know. With a stifled sigh she bade her niece good night and went away. + </p> + <p> + Kilmeny ran fleetly up the stairs to her dim little room, that looked out + into the spruces, and flung herself on her bed, burying her burning face + in the pillow. Her aunt’s words had revealed to her the hidden secret of + her heart. She knew that she loved Eric Marshall—and the knowledge + brought with it a strange anguish. For was she not dumb? All night she lay + staring wide-eyed through the darkness till the dawn. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIV. IN HER SELFLESS MOOD + </h2> + <p> + Eric noticed a change in Kilmeny at their next meeting—a change that + troubled him. She seemed aloof, abstracted, almost ill at ease. When he + proposed an excursion to the orchard he thought she was reluctant to go. + The days that followed convinced him of the change. Something had come + between them. Kilmeny seemed as far away from him as if she had in truth, + like her namesake of the ballad, sojourned for seven years in the land + “where the rain never fell and the wind never blew,” and had come back + washed clean from all the affections of earth. + </p> + <p> + Eric had a bad week of it; but he determined to put an end to it by plain + speaking. One evening in the orchard he told her of his love. + </p> + <p> + It was an evening in August, with wheat fields ripening to their harvestry—a + soft violet night made for love, with the distant murmur of an unquiet sea + on a rocky shore sounding through it. Kilmeny was sitting on the old bench + where he had first seen her. She had been playing for him, but her music + did not please her and she laid aside the violin with a little frown. + </p> + <p> + It might be that she was afraid to play—afraid that her new emotions + might escape her and reveal themselves in music. It was difficult to + prevent this, so long had she been accustomed to pour out all her feelings + in harmony. The necessity for restraint irked her and made of her bow a + clumsy thing which no longer obeyed her wishes. More than ever at that + instant did she long for speech—speech that would conceal and + protect where dangerous silence might betray. + </p> + <p> + In a low voice that trembled with earnestness Eric told her that he loved + her—that he had loved her from the first time he had seen her in + that old orchard. He spoke humbly but not fearfully, for he believed that + she loved him, and he had little expectation of any rebuff. + </p> + <p> + “Kilmeny, will you be my wife?” he asked finally, taking her hands in his. + </p> + <p> + Kilmeny had listened with averted face. At first she had blushed painfully + but now she had grown very pale. When he had finished speaking and was + waiting for her answer, she suddenly pulled her hands away, and, putting + them over her face, burst into tears and noiseless sobs. + </p> + <p> + “Kilmeny, dearest, have I alarmed you? Surely you knew before that I loved + you. Don’t you care for me?” Eric said, putting his arm about her and + trying to draw her to him. But she shook her head sorrowfully, and wrote + with compressed lips, + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I do love you, but I will never marry you, because I cannot speak.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Kilmeny,” said Eric smiling, for he believed his victory won, “that + doesn’t make any difference to me—you know it doesn’t, sweetest. If + you love me that is enough.” + </p> + <p> + But Kilmeny only shook her head again. There was a very determined look on + her pale face. She wrote, + </p> + <p> + “No, it is not enough. It would be doing you a great wrong to marry you + when I cannot speak, and I will not do it because I love you too much to + do anything that would harm you. Your world would think you had done a + very foolish thing and it would be right. I have thought it all over many + times since something Aunt Janet said made me understand, and I know I am + doing right. I am sorry I did not understand sooner, before you had + learned to care so much.” + </p> + <p> + “Kilmeny, darling, you have taken a very absurd fancy into that dear black + head of yours. Don’t you know that you will make me miserably unhappy all + my life if you will not be my wife?” + </p> + <p> + “No, you think so now; and I know you will feel very badly for a time. + Then you will go away and after awhile you will forget me; and then you + will see that I was right. I shall be very unhappy, too, but that is + better than spoiling your life. Do not plead or coax because I shall not + change my mind.” + </p> + <p> + Eric did plead and coax, however—at first patiently and smilingly, + as one might argue with a dear foolish child; then with vehement and + distracted earnestness, as he began to realize that Kilmeny meant what she + said. It was all in vain. Kilmeny grew paler and paler, and her eyes + revealed how keenly she was suffering. She did not even try to argue with + him, but only listened patiently and sadly, and shook her head. Say what + he would, entreat and implore as he might, he could not move her + resolution a hairs-breadth. + </p> + <p> + Yet he did not despair; he could not believe that she would adhere to such + a resolution; he felt sure that her love for him would eventually conquer, + and he went home not unhappily after all. He did not understand that it + was the very intensity of her love which gave her the strength to resist + his pleading, where a more shallow affection might have yielded. It held + her back unflinchingly from doing him what she believed to be a wrong. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XV. AN OLD, UNHAPPY, FAR-OFF THING + </h2> + <p> + The next day Eric sought Kilmeny again and renewed his pleadings, but + again in vain. Nothing he could say, no argument which he could advance, + was of any avail against her sad determination. When he was finally + compelled to realize that her resolution was not to be shaken, he went in + his despair to Janet Gordon. Janet listened to his story with concern and + disappointment plainly visible on her face. When he had finished she shook + her head. + </p> + <p> + “I’m sorry, Master. I can’t tell you how sorry I am. I had hoped for + something very different. HOPED! I have PRAYED for it. Thomas and I are + getting old and it has weighed on my mind for years—what was to + become of Kilmeny when we would be gone. Since you came I had hoped she + would have a protector in you. But if Kilmeny says she will not marry you + I am afraid she’ll stick to it.” + </p> + <p> + “But she loves me,” cried the young man, “and if you and her uncle speak + to her—urge her—perhaps you can influence her—” + </p> + <p> + “No, Master, it wouldn’t be any use. Oh, we will, of course, but it will + not be any use. Kilmeny is as determined as her mother when once she makes + up her mind. She has always been good and obedient for the most part, but + once or twice we have found out that there is no moving her if she does + resolve upon anything. When her mother died Thomas and I wanted to take + her to church. We could not prevail on her to go. We did not know why + then, but now I suppose it was because she believed she was so very ugly. + It is because she thinks so much of you that she will not marry you. She + is afraid you would come to repent having married a dumb girl. Maybe she + is right—maybe she is right.” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot give her up,” said Eric stubbornly. “Something must be done. + Perhaps her defect can be remedied even yet. Have you ever thought of + that? You have never had her examined by a doctor qualified to pronounce + on her case, have you?” + </p> + <p> + “No, Master, we never took her to anyone. When we first began to fear that + she was never going to talk Thomas wanted to take her to Charlottetown and + have her looked to. He thought so much of the child and he felt terrible + about it. But her mother wouldn’t hear of it being done. There was no use + trying to argue with her. She said that it would be no use—that it + was her sin that was visited on her child and it could never be taken + away.” + </p> + <p> + “And did you give in meekly to a morbid whim like that?” asked Eric + impatiently. + </p> + <p> + “Master, you didn’t know my sister. We HAD to give in—nobody could + hold out against her. She was a strange woman—and a terrible woman + in many ways—after her trouble. We were afraid to cross her for fear + she would go out of her mind.” + </p> + <p> + “But, could you not have taken Kilmeny to a doctor unknown to her mother?” + </p> + <p> + “No, that was not possible. Margaret never let her out of her sight, not + even when she was grown up. Besides, to tell you the whole truth, Master, + we didn’t think ourselves that it would be much use to try to cure + Kilmeny. It WAS a sin that made her as she is.” + </p> + <p> + “Aunt Janet, how can you talk such nonsense? Where was there any sin? Your + sister thought herself a lawful wife. If Ronald Fraser thought otherwise—and + there is no proof that he did—HE committed a sin, but you surely do + not believe that it was visited in this fashion on his innocent child!” + </p> + <p> + “No, I am not meaning that, Master. That wasn’t where Margaret did wrong; + and though I never liked Ronald Fraser over much, I must say this in his + defence—I believe he thought himself a free man when he married + Margaret. No, it’s something else—something far worse. It gives me a + shiver whenever I think of it. Oh, Master, the Good Book is right when it + says the sins of the parents are visited on the children. There isn’t a + truer word in it than that from cover to cover.” + </p> + <p> + “What, in heaven’s name, is the meaning of all this?” exclaimed Eric. + “Tell me what it is. I must know the whole truth about Kilmeny. Do not + torment me.” + </p> + <p> + “I am going to tell you the story, Master, though it will be like opening + an old wound. No living person knows it but Thomas and me. When you hear + it you will understand why Kilmeny can’t speak, and why it isn’t likely + that there can ever be anything done for her. She doesn’t know the truth + and you must never tell her. It isn’t a fit story for her ears, especially + when it is about her mother. Promise me that you will never tell her, no + matter what may happen.” + </p> + <p> + “I promise. Go on—go on,” said the young man feverishly. + </p> + <p> + Janet Gordon locked her hands together in her lap, like a woman who nerves + herself to some hateful task. She looked very old; the lines on her face + seemed doubly deep and harsh. + </p> + <p> + “My sister Margaret was a very proud, high-spirited girl, Master. But I + would not have you think she was unlovable. No, no, that would be doing a + great injustice to her memory. She had her faults as we all have; but she + was bright and merry and warm-hearted. We all loved her. She was the light + and life of this house. Yes, Master, before the trouble that came on her + Margaret was a winsome lass, singing like a lark from morning till night. + Maybe we spoiled her a little—maybe we gave her too much of her own + way. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Master, you have heard the story of her marriage to Ronald Fraser + and what came after, so I need not go into that. I know, or used to know + Elizabeth Williamson well, and I know that whatever she told you would be + the truth and nothing more or less than the truth. + </p> + <p> + “Our father was a very proud man. Oh, Master, if Margaret was too proud + she got it from no stranger. And her misfortune cut him to the heart. He + never spoke a word to us here for more than three days after he heard of + it. He sat in the corner there with bowed head and would not touch bite or + sup. He had not been very willing for her to marry Ronald Fraser; and when + she came home in disgrace she had not set foot over the threshold before + he broke out railing at her. Oh, I can see her there at the door this very + minute, Master, pale and trembling, clinging to Thomas’s arm, her great + eyes changing from sorrow and shame to wrath. It was just at sunset and a + red ray came in at the window and fell right across her breast like a + stain of blood. + </p> + <p> + “Father called her a hard name, Master. Oh, he was too hard—even + though he was my father I must say he was too hard on her, broken-hearted + as she was, and guilty of nothing more after all than a little willfulness + in the matter of her marriage. + </p> + <p> + “And father was sorry for it—Oh, Master, the word wasn’t out of his + mouth before he was sorry for it. But the mischief was done. Oh, I’ll + never forget Margaret’s face, Master! It haunts me yet in the black of the + night. It was full of anger and rebellion and defiance. But she never + answered him back. She clenched her hands and went up to her old room + without saying a word, all those mad feelings surging in her soul, and + being held back from speech by her sheer, stubborn will. And, Master, + never a word did Margaret say from that day until after Kilmeny was born—not + one word, Master. Nothing we could do for her softened her. And we were + kind to her, Master, and gentle with her, and never reproached her by so + much as a look. But she would not speak to anyone. She just sat in her + room most of the time and stared at the wall with such awful eyes. Father + implored her to speak and forgive him, but she never gave any sign that + she heard him. + </p> + <p> + “I haven’t come to the worst yet, Master. Father sickened and took to his + bed. Margaret would not go in to see him. Then one night Thomas and I were + watching by him; it was about eleven o’clock. All at once he said, + </p> + <p> + “‘Janet, go up and tell the lass’—he always called Margaret that—it + was a kind of pet name he had for her—‘that I’m deein’ and ask her + to come down and speak to me afore I’m gone.’ + </p> + <p> + “Master, I went. Margaret was sitting in her room all alone in the cold + and dark, staring at the wall. I told her what our father had said. She + never let on she heard me. I pleaded and wept, Master. I did what I had + never done to any human creature—I kneeled to her and begged her, as + she hoped for mercy herself, to come down and see our dying father. + Master, she wouldn’t! She never moved or looked at me. I had to get up and + go downstairs and tell that old man she would not come.” + </p> + <p> + Janet Gordon lifted her hands and struck them together in her agony of + remembrance. + </p> + <p> + “When I told father he only said, oh, so gently, + </p> + <p> + “‘Poor lass, I was too hard on her. She isna to blame. But I canna go to + meet her mother till our little lass has forgie’n me for the name I called + her. Thomas, help me up. Since she winna come to me I must e’en go to + her.’ + </p> + <p> + “There was no crossing him—we saw that. He got up from his deathbed + and Thomas helped him out into the hall and up the stair. I walked behind + with the candle. Oh, Master, I’ll never forget it—the awful shadows + and the storm wind wailing outside, and father’s gasping breath. But we + got him to Margaret’s room and he stood before her, trembling, with his + white hairs falling about his sunken face. And he prayed Margaret to + forgive him—to forgive him and speak just one word to him before he + went to meet her mother. Master”—Janet’s voice rose almost to a + shriek—“she would not—she would not! And yet she WANTED to + speak—afterwards she confessed to me that she wanted to speak. But + her stubbornness wouldn’t let her. It was like some evil power that had + gripped hold of her and wouldn’t let go. Father might as well have pleaded + with a graven image. Oh, it was hard and dreadful! She saw her father die + and she never spoke the word he prayed for to him. THAT was her sin, + Master,—and for that sin the curse fell on her unborn child. When + father understood that she would not speak he closed his eyes and was like + to have fallen if Thomas had not caught him. + </p> + <p> + “‘Oh, lass, you’re a hard woman,’ was all he said. And they were his last + words. Thomas and I carried him back to his room, but the breath was gone + from him before we ever got him there. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Master, Kilmeny was born a month afterwards, and when Margaret felt + her baby at her breast the evil thing that had held her soul in its + bondage lost its power. She spoke and wept and was herself again. Oh, how + she wept! She implored us to forgive her and we did freely and fully. But + the one against whom she had sinned most grievously was gone, and no word + of forgiveness could come to her from the grave. My poor sister never knew + peace of conscience again, Master. But she was gentle and kind and humble + until—until she began to fear that Kilmeny was never going to speak. + We thought then that she would go out of her mind. Indeed, Master, she + never was quite right again. + </p> + <p> + “But that is the story and it’s a thankful woman I am that the telling of + it is done. Kilmeny can’t speak because her mother wouldn’t.” + </p> + <p> + Eric had listened with a gray horror on his face to the gruesome tale. The + black tragedy of it appalled him—the tragedy of that merciless law, + the most cruel and mysterious thing in God’s universe, which ordains that + the sin of the guilty shall be visited on the innocent. Fight against it + as he would, the miserable conviction stole into his heart that Kilmeny’s + case was indeed beyond the reach of any human skill. + </p> + <p> + “It is a dreadful tale,” he said moodily, getting up and walking + restlessly to and fro in the dim spruce-shadowed old kitchen where they + were. “And if it is true that her mother’s willful silence caused + Kilmeny’s dumbness, I fear, as you say, that we cannot help her. But you + may be mistaken. It may have been nothing more than a strange coincidence. + Possibly something may be done for her. At all events, we must try. I have + a friend in Queenslea who is a physician. His name is David Baker, and he + is a very skilful specialist in regard to the throat and voice. I shall + have him come here and see Kilmeny.” + </p> + <p> + “Have your way,” assented Janet in the hopeless tone which she might have + used in giving him permission to attempt any impossible thing. + </p> + <p> + “It will be necessary to tell Dr. Baker why Kilmeny cannot speak—or + why you think she cannot.” + </p> + <p> + Janet’s face twitched. + </p> + <p> + “Must that be, Master? Oh, it’s a bitter tale to tell a stranger.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t be afraid. I shall tell him nothing that is not strictly necessary + to his proper understanding of the case. It will be quite enough to say + that Kilmeny may be dumb because for several months before her birth her + mother’s mind was in a very morbid condition, and she preserved a stubborn + and unbroken silence because of a certain bitter personal resentment.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, do as you think best, Master.” + </p> + <p> + Janet plainly had no faith in the possibility of anything being done for + Kilmeny. But a rosy glow of hope flashed over Kilmeny’s face when Eric + told her what he meant to do. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, do you think he can make me speak?” she wrote eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know, Kilmeny. I hope that he can, and I know he will do all that + mortal skill can do. If he can remove your defect will you promise to + marry me, dearest?” + </p> + <p> + She nodded. The grave little motion had the solemnity of a sacred promise. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she wrote, “when I can speak like other women I will marry you.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVI. DAVID BAKER’S OPINION + </h2> + <p> + The next week David Baker came to Lindsay. He arrived in the afternoon + when Eric was in school. When the latter came home he found that David + had, in the space of an hour, captured Mrs. Williamson’s heart, wormed + himself into the good graces of Timothy, and become hail-fellow-well-met + with old Robert. But he looked curiously at Eric when the two young men + found themselves alone in the upstairs room. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Eric, I want to know what all this is about. What scrape have you + got into? You write me a letter, entreating me in the name of friendship + to come to you at once. Accordingly I come post haste. You seem to be in + excellent health yourself. Explain why you have inveigled me hither.” + </p> + <p> + “I want you to do me a service which only you can do, David,” said Eric + quietly. “I didn’t care to go into the details by letter. I have met in + Lindsay a young girl whom I have learned to love. I have asked her to + marry me, but, although she cares for me, she refuses to do so because she + is dumb. I wish you to examine her and find out the cause of her defect, + and if it can be cured. She can hear perfectly and all her other faculties + are entirely normal. In order that you may better understand the case I + must tell you the main facts of her history.” + </p> + <p> + This Eric proceeded to do. David Baker listened with grave attention, his + eyes fastened on his friend’s face. He did not betray the surprise and + dismay he felt at learning that Eric had fallen in love with a dumb girl + of doubtful antecedents; and the strange case enlisted his professional + interest. When he had heard the whole story he thrust his hands into his + pockets and strode up and down the room several times in silence. Finally + he halted before Eric. + </p> + <p> + “So you have done what I foreboded all along you would do—left your + common sense behind you when you went courting.” + </p> + <p> + “If I did,” said Eric quietly, “I took with me something better and nobler + than common sense.” + </p> + <p> + David shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “You’ll have hard work to convince me of that, Eric.” + </p> + <p> + “No, it will not be difficult at all. I have one argument that will + convince you speedily—and that is Kilmeny Gordon herself. But we + will not discuss the matter of my wisdom or lack of it just now. What I + want to know is this—what do you think of the case as I have stated + it to you?” + </p> + <p> + David frowned thoughtfully. + </p> + <p> + “I hardly know what to think. It is very curious and unusual, but it is + not totally unprecedented. There have been cases on record where pre-natal + influences have produced a like result. I cannot just now remember whether + any were ever cured. Well, I’ll see if anything can be done for this girl. + I cannot express any further opinion until I have examined her.” + </p> + <p> + The next morning Eric took David up to the Gordon homestead. As they + approached the old orchard a strain of music came floating through the + resinous morning arcades of the spruce wood—a wild, sorrowful, + appealing cry, full of indescribable pathos, yet marvelously sweet. + </p> + <p> + “What is that?” exclaimed David, starting. + </p> + <p> + “That is Kilmeny playing on her violin,” answered Eric. “She has great + talent in that respect and improvises wonderful melodies.” + </p> + <p> + When they reached the orchard Kilmeny rose from the old bench to meet + them, her lovely luminous eyes distended, her face flushed with the + excitement of mingled hope and fear. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, ye gods!” muttered David helplessly. + </p> + <p> + He could not hide his amazement and Eric smiled to see it. The latter had + not failed to perceive that his friend had until now considered him as + little better than a lunatic. + </p> + <p> + “Kilmeny, this is my friend, Dr. Baker,” he said. + </p> + <p> + Kilmeny held out her hand with a smile. Her beauty, as she stood there in + the fresh morning sunshine beside a clump of her sister lilies, was + something to take away a man’s breath. David, who was by no means lacking + in confidence and generally had a ready tongue where women were concerned, + found himself as mute and awkward as a school boy, as he bowed over her + hand. + </p> + <p> + But Kilmeny was charmingly at ease. There was not a trace of embarrassment + in her manner, though there was a pretty shyness. Eric smiled as he + recalled HIS first meeting with her. He suddenly realized how far Kilmeny + had come since then and how much she had developed. + </p> + <p> + With a little gesture of invitation Kilmeny led the way through the + orchard to the wild cherry lane, and the two men followed. + </p> + <p> + “Eric, she is simply unutterable!” said David in an undertone. “Last + night, to tell you the truth, I had a rather poor opinion of your sanity. + But now I am consumed with a fierce envy. She is the loveliest creature I + ever saw.” + </p> + <p> + Eric introduced David to the Gordons and then hurried away to his school. + On his way down the Gordon lane he met Neil and was half startled by the + glare of hatred in the Italian boy’s eyes. Pity succeeded the momentary + alarm. Neil’s face had grown thin and haggard; his eyes were sunken and + feverishly bright; he looked years older than on the day when Eric had + first seen him in the brook hollow. + </p> + <p> + Prompted by sudden compassionate impulse Eric stopped and held out his + hand. + </p> + <p> + “Neil, can’t we be friends?” he said. “I am sorry if I have been the cause + of inflicting pain on you.” + </p> + <p> + “Friends! Never!” said Neil passionately. “You have taken Kilmeny from me. + I shall hate you always. And I’ll be even with you yet.” + </p> + <p> + He strode fiercely up the lane, and Eric, with a shrug of his shoulders, + went on his way, dismissing the meeting from his mind. + </p> + <p> + The day seemed interminably long to him. David had not returned when he + went home to dinner; but when he went to his room in the evening he found + his friend there, staring out of the window. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he said, impatiently, as David wheeled around but still kept + silence, “What have you to say to me? Don’t keep me in suspense any + longer, David. I have endured all I can. To-day has seemed like a thousand + years. Have you discovered what is the matter with Kilmeny?” + </p> + <p> + “There is nothing the matter with her,” answered David slowly, flinging + himself into a chair by the window. + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “Just exactly what I say. Her vocal organs are all perfect. As far as they + are concerned, there is absolutely no reason why she should not speak.” + </p> + <p> + “Then why can’t she speak? Do you think—do you think—” + </p> + <p> + “I think that I cannot express my conclusion in any better words than + Janet Gordon used when she said that Kilmeny cannot speak because her + mother wouldn’t. That is all there is to it. The trouble is psychological, + not physical. Medical skill is helpless before it. There are greater men + than I in my profession; but it is my honest belief, Eric, that if you + were to consult them they would tell you just what I have told you, + neither more nor less.” + </p> + <p> + “Then there is no hope,” said Eric in a tone of despair. “You can do + nothing for her?” + </p> + <p> + David took from the back of his chair a crochet antimacassar with a lion + rampant in the center and spread it over his knee. + </p> + <p> + “I can do nothing for her,” he said, scowling at that work of art. “I do + not believe any living man can do anything for her. But I do not say—exactly—that + there is no hope.” + </p> + <p> + “Come, David, I am in no mood for guessing riddles. Speak plainly, man, + and don’t torment me.” + </p> + <p> + David frowned dubiously and poked his finger through the hole which + represented the eye of the king of beasts. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know that I can make it plain to you. It isn’t very plain to + myself. And it is only a vague theory of mine, of course. I cannot + substantiate it by any facts. In short, Eric, I think it is possible that + Kilmeny may speak sometime—if she ever wants it badly enough.” + </p> + <p> + “Wants to! Why, man, she wants to as badly as it is possible for any one + to want anything. She loves me with all her heart and she won’t marry me + because she can’t speak. Don’t you suppose that a girl under such + circumstances would ‘want’ to speak as much as any one could?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but I do not mean that sort of wanting, no matter how strong the + wish may be. What I do mean is—a sudden, vehement, passionate inrush + of desire, physical, psychical, mental, all in one, mighty enough to rend + asunder the invisible fetters that hold her speech in bondage. If any + occasion should arise to evoke such a desire I believe that Kilmeny would + speak—and having once spoken would thenceforth be normal in that + respect—ay, if she spoke but the one word.” + </p> + <p> + “All this sounds like great nonsense to me,” said Eric restlessly. “I + suppose you have an idea what you are talking about, but I haven’t. And, + in any case, it practically means that there is no hope for her—or + me. Even if your theory is correct it is not likely such an occasion as + you speak of will ever arise. And Kilmeny will never marry me.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t give up so easily, old fellow. There HAVE been cases on record + where women have changed their minds.” + </p> + <p> + “Not women like Kilmeny,” said Eric miserably. “I tell you she has all her + mother’s unfaltering will and tenacity of purpose, although she is free + from any taint of pride or selfishness. I thank you for your sympathy and + interest, David. You have done all you could—but, heavens, what it + would have meant to me if you could have helped her!” + </p> + <p> + With a groan Eric flung himself on a chair and buried his face in his + hands. It was a moment which held for him all the bitterness of death. He + had thought that he was prepared for disappointment; he had not known how + strong his hope had really been until that hope was utterly taken from + him. + </p> + <p> + David, with a sigh, returned the crochet antimacassar carefully to its + place on the chair back. + </p> + <p> + “Eric, last night, to be honest, I thought that, if I found I could not + help this girl, it would be the best thing that could happen, as far as + you were concerned. But since I have seen her—well, I would give my + right hand if I could do anything for her. She is the wife for you, if we + could make her speak; yes, and by the memory of your mother”—David + brought his fist down on the window sill with a force that shook the + casement,—“she is the wife for you, speech or no speech, if we could + only convince her of it.” + </p> + <p> + “She cannot be convinced of that. No, David, I have lost her. Did you tell + her what you have told me?” + </p> + <p> + “I told her I could not help her. I did not say anything to her of my + theory—that would have done no good.” + </p> + <p> + “How did she take it?” + </p> + <p> + “Very bravely and quietly—‘like a winsome lady’. But the look in her + eyes—Eric, I felt as if I had murdered something. She bade me + good-bye with a pitiful smile and went upstairs. I did not see her again, + although I stayed to dinner as her uncle’s request. Those old Gordons are + a queer pair. I liked them, though. They are strong and staunch—good + friends, bitter enemies. They were sorry that I could not help Kilmeny, + but I saw plainly that old Thomas Gordon thought that I had been meddling + with predestination in attempting it.” + </p> + <p> + Eric smiled mechanically. + </p> + <p> + “I must go up and see Kilmeny. You’ll excuse me, won’t you, David? My + books are there—help yourself.” + </p> + <p> + But when Eric reached the Gordon house he saw only old Janet, who told him + that Kilmeny was in her room and refused to see him. + </p> + <p> + “She thought you would come up, and she left this with me to give you, + Master.” + </p> + <p> + Janet handed him a little note. It was very brief and blotted with tears. + </p> + <p> + “Do not come any more, Eric,” it ran. “I must not see you, because it + would only make it harder for us both. You must go away and forget me. You + will be thankful for this some day. I shall always love and pray for you.” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “KILMENY.” + </pre> + <p> + “I MUST see her,” said Eric desperately. “Aunt Janet, be my friend. Tell + her she must see me for a little while at least.” + </p> + <p> + Janet shook her head but went upstairs. She soon returned. + </p> + <p> + “She says she cannot come down. You know she means it, Master, and it is + of no use to coax her. And I must say I think she is right. Since she will + not marry you it is better for her not to see you.” + </p> + <p> + Eric was compelled to go home with no better comfort than this. In the + morning, as it was Sunday, he drove David Baker to the station. He had not + slept and he looked so miserable and reckless that David felt anxious + about him. David would have stayed in Lindsay for a few days, but a + certain critical case in Queenslea demanded his speedy return. He shook + hands with Eric on the station platform. + </p> + <p> + “Eric, give up that school and come home at once. You can do no good in + Lindsay now, and you’ll only eat your heart out here.” + </p> + <p> + “I must see Kilmeny once more before I leave,” was all Eric’s answer. + </p> + <p> + That afternoon he went again to the Gordon homestead. But the result was + the same; Kilmeny refused to see him, and Thomas Gordon said gravely, + </p> + <p> + “Master, you know I like you and I am sorry Kilmeny thinks as she does, + though maybe she is right. I would be glad to see you often for your own + sake and I’ll miss you much; but as things are I tell you plainly you’d + better not come here any more. It will do no good, and the sooner you and + she get over thinking about each other the better for you both. Go now, + lad, and God bless you.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know what it is you are asking of me?” said Eric hoarsely. + </p> + <p> + “I know I am asking a hard thing for your own good, Master. It is not as + if Kilmeny would ever change her mind. We have had some experience with a + woman’s will ere this. Tush, Janet, woman, don’t be weeping. You women are + foolish creatures. Do you think tears can wash such things away? No, they + cannot blot out sin, or the consequences of sin. It’s awful how one sin + can spread out and broaden, till it eats into innocent lives, sometimes + long after the sinner has gone to his own accounting. Master, if you take + my advice, you’ll give up the Lindsay school and go back to your own world + as soon as may be.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVII. A BROKEN FETTER + </h2> + <p> + Eric went home with a white, haggard face. He had never thought it was + possible for a man to suffer as he suffered then. What was he to do? It + seemed impossible to go on with life—there was NO life apart from + Kilmeny. Anguish wrung his soul until his strength went from him and youth + and hope turned to gall and bitterness in his heart. + </p> + <p> + He never afterwards could tell how he lived through the following Sunday + or how he taught school as usual on Monday. He found out how much a man + may suffer and yet go on living and working. His body seemed to him an + automaton that moved and spoke mechanically, while his tortured spirit, + pent-up within, endured pain that left its impress on him for ever. Out of + that fiery furnace of agony Eric Marshall was to go forth a man who had + put boyhood behind him for ever and looked out on life with eyes that saw + into it and beyond. + </p> + <p> + On Tuesday afternoon there was a funeral in the district and, according to + custom, the school was closed. Eric went again to the old orchard. He had + no expectation of seeing Kilmeny there, for he thought she would avoid the + spot lest she might meet him. But he could not keep away from it, although + the thought of it was an added torment, and he vibrated between a wild + wish that he might never see it again, and a sick wonder how he could + possibly go away and leave it—that strange old orchard where he had + met and wooed his sweetheart, watching her develop and blossom under his + eyes, like some rare flower, until in the space of three short months she + had passed from exquisite childhood into still more exquisite womanhood. + </p> + <p> + As he crossed the pasture field before the spruce wood he came upon Neil + Gordon, building a longer fence. Neil did not look up as Eric passed, but + sullenly went on driving poles. Before this Eric had pitied Neil; now he + was conscious of feeling sympathy with him. Had Neil suffered as he was + suffering? Eric had entered into a new fellowship whereof the passport was + pain. + </p> + <p> + The orchard was very silent and dreamy in the thick, deep tinted sunshine + of the September afternoon, a sunshine which seemed to possess the power + of extracting the very essence of all the odours which summer has stored + up in wood and field. There were few flowers now; most of the lilies, + which had queened it so bravely along the central path a few days before, + were withered. The grass had become ragged and sere and unkempt. But in + the corners the torches of the goldenrod were kindling and a few misty + purple asters nodded here and there. The orchard kept its own strange + attractiveness, as some women with youth long passed still preserve an + atmosphere of remembered beauty and innate, indestructible charm. + </p> + <p> + Eric walked drearily and carelessly about it, and finally sat down on a + half fallen fence panel in the shadow of the overhanging spruce boughs. + There he gave himself up to a reverie, poignant and bitter sweet, in which + he lived over again everything that had passed in the orchard since his + first meeting there with Kilmeny. + </p> + <p> + So deep was his abstraction that he was conscious of nothing around him. + He did not hear stealthy footsteps behind him in the dim spruce wood. He + did not even see Kilmeny as she came slowly around the curve of the wild + cherry lane. + </p> + <p> + Kilmeny had sought the old orchard for the healing of her heartbreak, if + healing were possible for her. She had no fear of encountering Eric there + at that time of day, for she did not know that it was the district custom + to close the school for a funeral. She would never have gone to it in the + evening, but she longed for it continually; it, and her memories, were all + that was left her now. + </p> + <p> + Years seemed to have passed over the girl in those few days. She had drunk + of pain and broken bread with sorrow. Her face was pale and strained, with + bluish, transparent shadows under her large wistful eyes, out of which the + dream and laughter of girlhood had gone, but into which had come the + potent charm of grief and patience. Thomas Gordon had shaken his head + bodingly when he had looked at her that morning at the breakfast table. + </p> + <p> + “She won’t stand it,” he thought. “She isn’t long for this world. Maybe it + is all for the best, poor lass. But I wish that young Master had never set + foot in the Connors orchard, or in this house. Margaret, Margaret, it’s + hard that your child should have to be paying the reckoning of a sin that + was sinned before her birth.” + </p> + <p> + Kilmeny walked through the lane slowly and absently like a woman in a + dream. When she came to the gap in the fence where the lane ran into the + orchard she lifted her wan, drooping face and saw Eric, sitting in the + shadow of the wood at the other side of the orchard with his bowed head in + his hands. She stopped quickly and the blood rushed wildly over her face. + </p> + <p> + The next moment it ebbed, leaving her white as marble. Horror filled her + eyes,—blank, deadly horror, as the livid shadow of a cloud might + fill two blue pools. + </p> + <p> + Behind Eric Neil Gordon was standing tense, crouched, murderous. Even at + that distance Kilmeny saw the look on his face, saw what he held in his + hand, and realized in one agonized flash of comprehension what it meant. + </p> + <p> + All this photographed itself in her brain in an instant. She knew that by + the time she could run across the orchard to warn Eric by a touch it would + be too late. Yet she must warn him—she MUST—she MUST! A mighty + surge of desire seemed to rise up within her and overwhelm her like a wave + of the sea,—a surge that swept everything before it in an + irresistible flood. As Neil Gordon swiftly and vindictively, with the face + of a demon, lifted the axe he held in his hand, Kilmeny sprang forward + through the gap. + </p> + <h3> + “ERIC, ERIC, LOOK BEHIND YOU—LOOK BEHIND YOU!” + </h3> + <p> + Eric started up, confused, bewildered, as the voice came shrieking across + the orchard. He did not in the least realize that it was Kilmeny who had + called to him, but he instinctively obeyed the command. + </p> + <p> + He wheeled around and saw Neil Gordon, who was looking, not at him, but + past him at Kilmeny. The Italian boy’s face was ashen and his eyes were + filled with terror and incredulity, as if he had been checked in his + murderous purpose by some supernatural interposition. The axe, lying at + his feet where he had dropped it in his unutterable consternation on + hearing Kilmeny’s cry told the whole tale. But before Eric could utter a + word Neil turned, with a cry more like that of an animal than a human + being, and fled like a hunted creature into the shadow of the spruce wood. + </p> + <p> + A moment later Kilmeny, her lovely face dewed with tears and sunned over + with smiles, flung herself on Eric’s breast. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Eric, I can speak,—I can speak! Oh, it is so wonderful! Eric, I + love you—I love you!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVIII. NEIL GORDON SOLVES HIS OWN PROBLEM + </h2> + <h3> + “It is a miracle!” said Thomas Gordon in an awed tone. + </h3> + <p> + It was the first time he had spoken since Eric and Kilmeny had rushed in, + hand in hand, like two children intoxicated with joy and wonder, and + gasped out their story together to him and Janet. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, it is very wonderful, but it is not a miracle,” said Eric. “David + told me it might happen. I had no hope that it would. He could explain it + all to you if he were here.” + </p> + <p> + Thomas Gordon shook his head. “I doubt if he could, Master—he, or + any one else. It is near enough to a miracle for me. Let us thank God + reverently and humbly that he has seen fit to remove his curse from the + innocent. Your doctors may explain it as they like, lad, but I’m thinking + they won’t get much nearer to it than that. It is awesome, that is what it + is. Janet, woman, I feel as if I were in a dream. Can Kilmeny really + speak?” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed I can, Uncle,” said Kilmeny, with a rapturous glance at Eric. “Oh, + I don’t know how it came to me—I felt that I MUST speak—and I + did. And it is so easy now—it seems to me as if I could always have + done it.” + </p> + <p> + She spoke naturally and easily. The only difficulty which she seemed to + experience was in the proper modulation of her voice. Occasionally she + pitched it too high—again, too low. But it was evident that she + would soon acquire perfect control of it. It was a beautiful voice—very + clear and soft and musical. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I am so glad that the first word I said was your name, dearest,” she + murmured to Eric. + </p> + <p> + “What about Neil?” asked Thomas Gordon gravely, rousing himself with an + effort from his abstraction of wonder. “What are we to do with him when he + returns? In one way this is a sad business.” + </p> + <p> + Eric had almost forgotten about Neil in his overwhelming amazement and + joy. The realization of his escape from sudden and violent death had not + yet had any opportunity to take possession of his thoughts. + </p> + <p> + “We must forgive him, Mr. Gordon. I know how I should feel towards a man + who took Kilmeny from me. It was an evil impulse to which he gave way in + his suffering—and think of the good which has resulted from it.” + </p> + <p> + “That is true, Master, but it does not alter the terrible fact that the + boy had murder in his heart,—that he would have killed you. An + over-ruling Providence has saved him from the actual commission of the + crime and brought good out of evil; but he is guilty in thought and + purpose. And we have cared for him and instructed him as our own—with + all his faults we have loved him! It is a hard thing, and I do not see + what we are to do. We cannot act as if nothing had happened. We can never + trust him again.” + </p> + <p> + But Neil Gordon solved the problem himself. When Eric returned that night + he found old Robert Williamson in the pantry regaling himself with a lunch + of bread and cheese after a trip to the station. Timothy sat on the + dresser in black velvet state and gravely addressed himself to the + disposal of various tid-bits that came his way. + </p> + <p> + “Good night, Master. Glad to see you’re looking more like yourself. I told + the wife it was only a lover’s quarrel most like. She’s been worrying + about you; but she didn’t like to ask you what was the trouble. She ain’t + one of them unfortunate folks who can’t be happy athout they’re + everlasting poking their noses into other people’s business. But what kind + of a rumpus was kicked up at the Gordon place, to-night, Master?” + </p> + <p> + Eric looked amazed. What could Robert Williamson have heard so soon? + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Why, us folks at the station knew there must have been a to-do of some + kind when Neil Gordon went off on the harvest excursion the way he did.” + </p> + <p> + “Neil gone! On the harvest excursion!” exclaimed Eric. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir. You know this was the night the excursion train left. They + cross on the boat to-night—special trip. There was a dozen or so + fellows from hereabouts went. We was all standing around chatting when + Lincoln Frame drove up full speed and Neil jumped out of his rig. Just + bolted into the office, got his ticket and out again, and on to the train + without a word to any one, and as black looking as the Old Scratch + himself. We was all too surprised to speak till he was gone. Lincoln + couldn’t give us much information. He said Neil had rushed up to their + place about dark, looking as if the constable was after him, and offered + to sell that black filly of his to Lincoln for sixty dollars if Lincoln + would drive him to the station in time to catch the excursion train. The + filly was Neil’s own, and Lincoln had been wanting to buy her but Neil + would never hear to it afore. Lincoln jumped at the chance. Neil had + brought the filly with him, and Lincoln hitched right up and took him to + the station. Neil hadn’t no luggage of any kind and wouldn’t open his + mouth the whole way up, Lincoln says. We concluded him and old Thomas must + have had a row. D’ye know anything about it? Or was you so wrapped up in + sweethearting that you didn’t hear or see nothing else?” + </p> + <p> + Eric reflected rapidly. He was greatly relieved to find that Neil had + gone. He would never return and this was best for all concerned. Old + Robert must be told a part of the truth at least, since it would soon + become known that Kilmeny could speak. + </p> + <p> + “There was some trouble at the Gordon place to-night, Mr. Williamson,” he + said quietly. “Neil Gordon behaved rather badly and frightened Kilmeny + terribly,—so terribly that a very surprising thing has happened. She + has found herself able to speak, and can speak perfectly.” + </p> + <p> + Old Robert laid down the piece of cheese he was conveying to his mouth on + the point of a knife and stared at Eric in blank amazement. + </p> + <p> + “God bless my soul, Master, what an extraordinary thing!” he ejaculated. + “Are you in earnest? Or are you trying to see how much of a fool you can + make of the old man?” + </p> + <p> + “No, Mr. Williamson, I assure you it is no more than the simple truth. Dr. + Baker told me that a shock might cure her,—and it has. As for Neil, + he has gone, no doubt for good, and I think it well that he has.” + </p> + <p> + Not caring to discuss the matter further, Eric left the kitchen. But as he + mounted the stairs to his room he heard old Robert muttering, like a man + in hopeless bewilderment, + </p> + <p> + “Well, I never heard anything like this in all my born days—never—never. + Timothy, did YOU ever hear the like? Them Gordons are an unaccountable lot + and no mistake. They couldn’t act like other people if they tried. I must + wake mother up and tell her about this, or I’ll never be able to sleep.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIX. VICTOR FROM VANQUISHED ISSUES + </h2> + <p> + Now that everything was settled Eric wished to give up teaching and go + back to his own place. True, he had “signed papers” to teach the school + for a year; but he knew that the trustees would let him off if he procured + a suitable substitute. He resolved to teach until the fall vacation, which + came in October, and then go. Kilmeny had promised that their marriage + should take place in the following spring. Eric had pleaded for an earlier + date, but Kilmeny was sweetly resolute, and Thomas and Janet agreed with + her. + </p> + <p> + “There are so many things that I must learn yet before I shall be ready to + be married,” Kilmeny had said. “And I want to get accustomed to seeing + people. I feel a little frightened yet whenever I see any one I don’t + know, although I don’t think I show it. I am going to church with Uncle + and Aunt after this, and to the Missionary Society meetings. And Uncle + Thomas says that he will send me to a boarding school in town this winter + if you think it advisable.” + </p> + <p> + Eric vetoed this promptly. The idea of Kilmeny in a boarding school was + something that could not be thought about without laughter. + </p> + <p> + “I can’t see why she can’t learn all she needs to learn after she is + married to me, just as well as before,” he grumbled to her uncle and aunt. + </p> + <p> + “But we want to keep her with us for another winter yet,” explained Thomas + Gordon patiently. “We are going to miss her terrible when she does go, + Master. She has never been away from us for a day—she is all the + brightness there is in our lives. It is very kind of you to say that she + can come home whenever she likes, but there will be a great difference. + She will belong to your world and not to ours. That is for the best—and + we wouldn’t have it otherwise. But let us keep her as our own for this one + winter yet.” + </p> + <p> + Eric yielded with the best grace he could muster. After all, he reflected, + Lindsay was not so far from Queenslea, and there were such things as boats + and trains. + </p> + <p> + “Have you told your father about all this yet?” asked Janet anxiously. + </p> + <p> + No, he had not. But he went home and wrote a full account of his summer to + old Mr. Marshall that night. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Marshall, Senior, answered the letter in person. A few days later, + Eric, coming home from school, found his father sitting in Mrs. + Williamson’s prim, fleckless parlour. Nothing was said about Eric’s + letter, however, until after tea. When they found themselves alone, Mr. + Marshall said abruptly, + </p> + <p> + “Eric, what about this girl? I hope you haven’t gone and made a fool of + yourself. It sounds remarkably like it. A girl that has been dumb all her + life—a girl with no right to her father’s name—a country girl + brought up in a place like Lindsay! Your wife will have to fill your + mother’s place,—and your mother was a pearl among women. Do you + think this girl is worthy of it? It isn’t possible! You’ve been led away + by a pretty face and dairy maid freshness. I expected some trouble out of + this freak of yours coming over here to teach school.” + </p> + <p> + “Wait until you see Kilmeny, father,” said Eric, smiling. + </p> + <p> + “Humph! That’s just exactly what David Baker said. I went straight to him + when I got your letter, for I knew that there was some connection between + it and that mysterious visit of his over here, concerning which I never + could drag a word out of him by hook or crook. And all HE said was, ‘Wait + until you see Kilmeny Gordon, sir.’ Well, I WILL wait till I see her, but + I shall look at her with the eyes of sixty-five, mind you, not the eyes of + twenty-four. And if she isn’t what your wife ought to be, sir, you give + her up or paddle your own canoe. I shall not aid or abet you in making a + fool of yourself and spoiling your life.” + </p> + <p> + Eric bit his lip, but only said quietly, + </p> + <p> + “Come with me, father. We will go to see her now.” + </p> + <p> + They went around by way of the main road and the Gordon lane. Kilmeny was + not in when they reached the house. + </p> + <p> + “She is up in the old orchard, Master,” said Janet. “She loves that place + so much she spends all her spare time there. She likes to go there to + study.” + </p> + <p> + They sat down and talked awhile with Thomas and Janet. When they left, Mr. + Marshall said, + </p> + <p> + “I like those people. If Thomas Gordon had been a man like Robert + Williamson I shouldn’t have waited to see your Kilmeny. But they are all + right—rugged and grim, but of good stock and pith—native + refinement and strong character. But I must say candidly that I hope your + young lady hasn’t got her aunt’s mouth.” + </p> + <p> + “Kilmeny’s mouth is like a love-song made incarnate in sweet flesh,” said + Eric enthusiastically. + </p> + <p> + “Humph!” said Mr. Marshall. “Well,” he added more tolerantly, a moment + later, “I was a poet, too, for six months in my life when I was courting + your mother.” + </p> + <p> + Kilmeny was reading on the bench under the lilac trees when they reached + the orchard. She stood up and came shyly forward to meet them, guessing + who the tall, white-haired old gentleman with Eric must be. As she + approached Eric saw with a thrill of exultation that she had never looked + lovelier. She wore a dress of her favourite blue, simply and quaintly + made, as all her gowns were, revealing the perfect lines of her lithe, + slender figure. Her glossy black hair was wound about her head in a + braided coronet, against which a spray of wild asters shone like pale + purple stars. Her face was flushed delicately with excitement. She looked + like a young princess, crowned with a ruddy splash of sunlight that fell + through the old trees. + </p> + <p> + “Father, this is Kilmeny,” said Eric proudly. + </p> + <p> + Kilmeny held out her hand with a shyly murmured greeting. Mr. Marshall + took it and held it in his, looking so steadily and piercingly into her + face that even her frank gaze wavered before the intensity of his keen old + eyes. Then he drew her to him and kissed her gravely and gently on her + white forehead. + </p> + <p> + “My dear,” he said, “I am glad and proud that you have consented to be my + son’s wife—and my very dear and honoured daughter.” + </p> + <p> + Eric turned abruptly away to hide his emotion and on his face was a light + as of one who sees a great glory widening and deepening down the vista of + his future. + </p> + <h3> + THE END. + </h3> + <div style="height: 6em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg’s Kilmeny of the Orchard, by Lucy Maud Montgomery + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK KILMENY OF THE ORCHARD *** + +***** This file should be named 5341-h.htm or 5341-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/5/3/4/5341/ + + +Text file produced by Elizabeth Morton, Mary Mark Ockerbloom, and Ben Crowder + +HTML file produced by David Widger + + +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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