AN ALGONQUIN MAIDEN

A ROMANCE OF THE EARLY DAYS OF UPPER CANADA

BY

G. MERCER ADAM AND A. ETHELWYN WETHERALD

Entered according to Act of Parliament, in the year one thousand eighthundred and eighty-six, by GRAEME MERCER ADAM and AGNES ETHELWYNWETHERALD, in the Office of the Minister of Agriculture, Ottawa. 

TO THE VETERAN PUBLISHER, John Lovell, Esq. , OF MONTREAL, WHO HASSPENT A LONG AND BUSY LIFE IN THE VARIED SERVICE OF HIS COUNTRY, THISMODEST EFFORT IN THE FIELD OF CANADIAN FICTION IS AFFECTIONATELY ANDADMIRINGLY DEDICATED BY THE AUTHORS. 

CONTENTS. 

 CHAPTER I. 

The Young Master of Pine Towers

 CHAPTER II. 

An Upper Canadian Household

 CHAPTER III. 

"When Summer Days were Fair"

 CHAPTER IV. 

Indian Annals and Legends

 CHAPTER V. 

The Algonquin Maiden

 CHAPTER VI. 

Catechisings

 CHAPTER VII. 

An Accident

 CHAPTER VIII. 

Convalescence

 CHAPTER IX. 

On the Way to the Capital

 CHAPTER X. 

York and the Maitlands

 CHAPTER XI. 

After "The Ball"

 CHAPTER XII. 

A Kiss and its Consequences

 CHAPTER XIII. 

Rival Attractions

 CHAPTER XIV. 

"Muddy Little York"

 CHAPTER XV. 

Politics at the Capital

 CHAPTER XVI. 

Love's Protestations

 CHAPTER XVII. 

A Picnic in the Woods

 CHAPTER XVIII. 

The Commodore Surrenders

 CHAPTER XIX. 

At Stamford Cottage

 CHAPTER XX. 

The Coming of Wanda

 CHAPTER XXI. 

The Passing of Wanda

 CHAPTER XXII. 

Love's Rewards

AN ALGONQUIN MAIDEN. 

CHAPTER I. 

THE YOUNG MASTER OF PINE TOWERS. 

It was a May morning in 1825--spring-time of the year, late spring-timeof the century. It had rained the night before, and a warm pallor inthe eastern sky was the only indication that the sun was trying topierce the gray dome of nearly opaque watery fog, lying low upon thatpart of the world now known as the city of Toronto, then the town ofLittle York. This cluster of five or six hundred houses had taken up adetermined position at the edge of a forest then gloomily forbiddingin its aspect, interminable in extent, inexorable in its resistance tothe shy or to the sturdy approaches of the settler. Man _versus_nature--the successive assaults of perishing humanity upon the almostimpregnable fortresses of the eternal forests--this was the struggleof Canadian civilization, and its hard-won triumphs were bodied forthin the scattered roofs of these cheap habitations. Seen now throughsoft gradations of vapoury gloom, they took on a poetic significance, as tenderly intangible as the romantic halo which the mist of yearsloves to weave about the heads of departed pioneers, who, for the mostpart, lived out their lives in plain, grim style, without any thoughtof posing as "conquering heroes" in the eyes of succeeding generations. 

From the portico of one of these dwellings, under a wind-swayed signwhich advertised it to be a place of rest and refreshment, stepped aman of more than middle age, whose nervous gait and anxious facebetokened a mind ill at ease. He had the look and air of a highlyrespectable old servitor, --one who had followed the family to whom hewas bound by ties of life-long service to a country of which hestrongly disapproved, not because it offered a poor field for his ownadvancement, but because, to his mind, its crude society and narrowopportunities ill became the distinction of the Old World family towhose fortunes he was devoted. Time had softened these prejudices, buthad failed to melt them; and if they had a pardonable fashion ofcongealing under the stress of the Canadian winter, they generallyshowed signs of a thaw at the approach of spring. At the presentmoment he had no thought, no eyes, for anything save a mist-enshroudedspeck far off across the waters of Lake Ontario. All the impatienceand longing of the week just past found vent through his eyes, as hewatched that pale, uncertain, scarcely visible mote on the horizon. Ashe reached the shore the fog lifted a little, and a great sunbeam, leaping from a cloud, illumined for a moment the smooth expanse ofwater; but the new day was as yet chary of its gifts. It was verystill. The woods and waves alike were tranced in absolute calm. Theunlighted heavens brooded upon the silent limpid waters and thebreathless woods, while between them, with restless step, and heart asgloomy as the morning, with secret, sore misgiving, paced the oldservant, his attention still riveted upon that distant speck. Thesight of land and home to the gaze of a long absent wanderer, weariedwith ocean, is not more dear than the first glimpse of the approachingsail to watching eyes on shore. 

Was it in truth the packet vessel for whose coming he had yearninglywaited, or the dark wing of a soaring bird, or did it exist only inimagination? The tide of his impatience rose anew as the dim objectslowly resolved itself into the semblance of a sail, shrouded in thepale, damp light of early morning. Unwilling to admit to his usuallygrave unimpressible self the fact that he was restless and disturbed, he reduced his pace to a dignified march, extended his chosen beat toa wider margin of the sandy shore, and, parting the blighted branchesof a group of trees, that bore evidence of the effect of constantexposure to lake winds, he affected to examine them critically. Butthe hand that touched the withered leaves trembled, and his sight wasdimmed with something closely resembling the morning's mist. When heagain raised his eyes to that white-sailed vessel it looked to hishopeless gaze absolutely becalmed. The slow moments dragged heavilyalong. The mantle of fog was wholly lifted at last, and the lonelywatcher was enveloped in the soft beauty of the morning. A light cloudhung motionless, as though spell-bound, above the mute and movelesstrees, while before him the dead blue slopes of heaven were unbrokenby a single flying bird, the wide waste of water unlighted, save bythat unfluttering sail. 

And now, like a visible response to his silent but seeminglyresistless longing, a boat was rapidly pushed away from the largercraft, and the swift flash and fall of the oars kept time to thepulsing in the old man's breast. Again ensued that inglorious conflictbetween self-respecting sobriety of demeanour and long suppressedemotion, which ended only when the boat grated on the sand, and ablonde stalwart youth leaped ashore. The old man fell upon his neckwith tears and murmured ejaculations of gratitude and welcome; butyoung impatient hands pushed him not ungently aside, and a youthfulvoice, high and intense from anxiety, urgently exclaimed:

"My mother! How is my mother?"

"She yet breathes, thank God. She has been longing for your coming asa suffering saint longs for heaven. She must see you before she dies!"

The young man turned a little aside with down-bent head. His positiveblue eyes looked almost feverishly bright; and the lip, on which hehad unconsciously bitten hard, now released from pressure, quiveredperceptibly; but with the unwillingness or inability of youth to admitthe inevitableness of a great grief he burst forth with:

"Is that all you have to say to me?" And then, as his keen eye noticedthe tears still undried upon the cheeks of the old man, he sighedheavily. "Can nothing be done? Is there no help? It doesn't seempossible!" He ground his heel heavily into the sand. "Say something, Tredway, " he entreated, "anything with a gleam of hope in it. "

Tredway shook his head. "The only hope that remains is that you willreach home in time to receive her last words. This is the second timethat I have come down expecting to meet you. "

The young fellow with his erect military air and noticeably handsomeface betrayed a remote consciousness that he was perhaps worth thetrouble of coming after twice. As they together hastened up from thebeach the younger of the two briefly narrated the cause of hisdelay--a delay occasioned by stress of weather on the Atlantic, andthe state of the roads in the valley of the Mohawk, on the journeyfrom the seaboard. He had lost not an hour, the young man said, inobeying the summons of his father, the Commodore, to quit England andreturn to his Canadian home ere his much-loved mother passed from theearth. 

Eager to reach that home, which was on the shores of Lake Simcoe, theyoung Cadet bade the old servitor hasten to get their horses readywhen they would instantly set forth. As they were about to mount, theyounger of the two was accosted by an old friend, now an attache ofGovernment House, who, learning of the arrival of the packet, andexpecting the young master of Pine Towers, had strolled down to thelanding-place to welcome the newcomer and ask him to partake of theGovernor's hospitality. The young man, however, begged his friend tohave him excused, and with dutiful messages of respect for theGovernor and his household, and a cordial adieu to his formerboon-companion, he rapidly set off for home, closely followed by hisattendant. 

Coming up the old military road, cut out between York and HollandLanding by His Majesty's corps of Queen's Rangers, under the _regime_of Governor Simcoe, both horsemen fell into a brief silence, broken bysorrowful inquiries from the younger man regarding the subject whichlay so close to the heart of each. "Dying!" he exclaimed in deepsadness, and with the utter incapacity of young and ardent life toconceive the reality of death. "And my own mother. It seems naturalenough for other mothers to die--but mine! Heaven help us! We neverknow the meaning of grief until it comes to our own threshold. "

The old steward viewed with a desolate stare the May landscape, brightly lit with sunshine and bloom, and said wearily:

"But what can one expect in this wretched, half-civilized country? Nowin England--"

His voice lingered long upon that fondly loved word, and his youngmaster concluded the sentence with, "There would be little hope, but in this 'brave new world, ' where theodour of the woods is a tonic, and the air brings healing and balm, how can death exist? Ah, Tredway, this is a beautiful country!"

"To me there is but one beautiful country--that is England. " Againthere was that lingering intonation. 

Edward Macleod gave vent to a short melancholy laugh. The allurementsof an old civilization were over-ripe to his taste. Promise appealedto his imagination; fulfilment was a dull fact. Along with theunmistakable evidences of birth and breeding in his person, there wasin his fresh youth and buoyancy something joyously akin to thevigorous young life about him. 

"England, " said Tredway, with his disapproving regard fixed upon thewilderness around, "is a garden. "

"And I take no delight in gardens, " declared Edward. "I was neverintended for a garden statue. This long day's journey under the gianttrees of the wild, unconquered woods seems to gratify some savageinstinct of my nature. The old country is well adapted to keep aliveold customs, old notions, old traditions; but for me I am a Canadian, my mind is wearied with over-much civilization. I hate the Englishlove of land for land's sake. That line of hills, swelling in massivecurves, and crowned, not with a tottering ruin, serving to hang somelegendary romance or faded rag of superstition upon, but with statelytrees--that is my idea of the beautiful. "

He struck into a sharp gallop, his bright head above the dark bluemilitary cloak forming a picturesque feature in the woodland, and theflying heels of his spirited horse seeming to add a rattling chorus ofapplause to his patriotic sentiments. The old retainer ambled along inhis wake, but more slowly. His idea of the beautiful was not quite sorecklessly defiant. Presently, for he was still jaded from the effectsof his long journey on the previous day, he relaxed his attempt atspeed, and soon lost sight of his companion altogether. The vision ofwaving cloak and flying steed vanished in the green aisles of theforest. 

Along the Oak Ridges--situate some thirty miles from York--which thetwo horsemen now neared, a Huguenot settlement had been formed aboutthe close of the eighteenth century. The settlers were French officersof the noblesse order, who, during the French Revolution, when theroyalist cause became desperate, emigrated to England, thence toCanada, where, by the bounty of the Crown, they were given grants ofland in this portion of the Province of Upper Canada. Here many ofthese _emigres_ had made clearings on the Ridges, and reared _chateaux_for themselves and their households after the manner of their ancestralhomes in Languedoc and Brittany. Into the grounds of one of thesemansions had the younger horseman disappeared to pay his hurriedrespects to the stately dame who was its owner, and who, with her fairdaughter, were intimate friends of the Macleod family. 

Almost before the old man had time to wonder what mad freak had kepthis young master so long from the beaten road, he was at his sideagain. 

"I have been trying to get a glimpse of my little friend, Helene, " hesaid, in explanation of his absence, "but the DeBerczy mansion is asempty as a church on Monday. They still go to Lake Simcoe in summer, I suppose. But what does this early flight portend?"

"It was caused solely by the serious nature of your mother's illness. Madame and Mademoiselle have been now five weeks at 'Bellevue. '"

The young man's face darkened, or rather lost the brightness thathabitually played upon it, like gleams of sunshine on a stream, which, when disappearing, show the depth of the tide beneath. 

"You would scarcely know the young lady now, " continued Tredway. "Thedifference between fifteen and eighteen is the difference betweenchildhood and womanhood. "

"I suppose she has grown like a young forest tree, and holds hergraceful head almost as high. "

"She is well grown, and very beautiful, but not bewitching like yoursister Rose. "

"Ah! dear little Rose! But she, too, I doubt not, is a bud no longer. It's odd how much easier it is for a girl to be a woman than for a boyto become a man. " There was something vaguely suggestive of regret inthe gesture with which young Macleod lightly brushed his short upperlip, whose hirsute adornment was not, in its owner's estimation, allthat it ought to have been. "I was twenty-one last winter. Do I lookvery young?" he inquired, with the natural anxiety of a man who hasrecently escaped the ignominy of being in his teens. 

"You look altogether too young, " dryly returned the ancient servitor, "to appreciate the worth of a country where old customs, old ideas, and old traditions are respected. "

"Then may youth always be mine!" exclaimed Edward, looking round himwith the glow in his heart, sure to be felt by the devout worshipperof Nature in the large and beautiful presence of her whom he adores. The region about him, esteemed the epitome of dreariness in winter, held now in its depths a vast luxury of vegetation. The wild vines ranknotted and twisted about the trunks and branches of multitudinoustrees, and the fallen logs were draped with moss, lichens, anddelicate ferns. Passing through this boundless wilderness, they seemedto look into a succession of woodland chambers, thickly carpeted withwild flowers, gorgeously festooned with creeping and parasiticalplants hanging from the branches, and secured in their leafy seclusionby walls of abundant foliage. In one of these natural parlours theypaused for their mid-day repast--mid-day in the world without, buthere, where only vagrant gleams of the spring sun pierced the forestsolitudes, gloomy with spruce and pine, there was a sense of morningin the air. This appearance was heightened by the delicate curtains ofcobweb, strung with shining pearls, which still might be seen afterthe fog at early dawn. There was no sound except sometimes that of aninvisible bird, singing in the upper air, or when a partridge, rousedby approaching steps, started from the hollow, and rapidly whirringaway directly before them was again startled into flight when theyovertook it. 

The road they followed cut straight through the forest, and, disdainingto enclose the hills in graceful curves, attacked and surmounted themin the direct fashion common to our forefathers, when they encounteredobstacles of any serious nature. The absence of human sight or voicegave a strangeness to the sound of their own utterances, and therewere frequent lapses into that sad silence which fell upon them asnaturally as the gloom from the overshadowing boughs above. The oldattendant who viewed every member of the family whom he served andloved just as the first man regarded the world at his first glimpse ofit--that is, as an extension of his own consciousness--was deeplymoved at the sight of his young master's sombre face. Edward's heart, indeed, ached painfully. The perpetual repetition of this luxurianceof young fresh life in the woods of May was a constant reminder of alife that until lately had been as vigorously beautiful, and nowperhaps had passed away from this world forever. 

Leaving their weary horses at Holland Landing, they took boat down theriver and bay, desiring to hasten their arrival at the family mansion, nearly opposite to what is now the prettily situated town of Barrie. Edward sat apart and gazed long and silently at the waving tree lines, dark against a luminous, cool, gray sky, with its scattered but serenegroup of clouds. All his desire for home and for her who was thesunshine of it had resolved itself into a yearning that gnawedmomentarily at his heart. Instead of the fair sky and landscape andsilent waterways of his New World home, he saw or rather felt, thehush of a dim chamber, whose wasted occupant had travelled far intothe valley of the shadow of death. His wet eyes, looking abroad uponthe outer world, were as the eyes of those who see not. The afternoonsunshine paled and thinned, but beneath the chill of the spring daythere lay a warm hint of the untold tenderness of midsummer. Unconsciously to himself the prophecy brought a feeling of comfort tohis heart, in its reminder of the glory of that summer to which hismother might even now be passing--"the glory that was to be revealed. "

It was early twilight when Edward Macleod reached his beautiful homeoverlooking Kempenfeldt Bay. The broad, solid-built house, with itscommanding position, and spacious verandas, seemed just such a mansionas an old naval officer, who was reduced to the insipid necessity of alife on shore, would choose to dwell in. One might almost be temptedto call it a fine piece of marine architecture, in some of itsfanciful reminders of an ocean vessel. Its solitariness, its pointedturrets and gables, its proud position on what might be termed thetopmost wave of earth in that region, the flying flag at its summit, and the ample white curtains that fluttered sail-like in the openwindows, all heightened the resemblance. From its portal down to thebay, extended a noble avenue of hardwood trees--oak, walnut andelm--never planted by the hand of man. Their gracious lives thewoodman had spared, and now, with their outstretched branches, catching the faint evening breeze, they seemed to breathe a sadbenediction upon the returning youth, who walked hurriedly andtremblingly beneath them. 

As he stepped from their leafy shadow upon the sunset-gilded lawn, hewas startled by an apparition which seemed suddenly to take shape froma sweet-scented thicket of lilacs now in profuse bloom at the rear ofthe house. A dark, lissome creature, beautiful as a young princess, but a princess in the disguise of a savage, darted past him. So suddenwas the appearance, and so swift the flight of this dusky Diana, speeding through the blossoming shrubs of spring, that his mindretained only a general impression of a face, perfect-featured andolive-tinted, and a form robed in a brilliant and barbarous admixtureof scarlet, yellow, and very dark blue. 

But the next moment every sensation and emotion gave way tooverwhelming and profound grief, for his sister Rose, hurrying to meethim, threw herself into his arms with an abandon of sorrow that seemedto leave no room for hope. The fatal question burned a moment on hislips, then died away unuttered, leaving them pale as ashes, and a bigtear fell upon the bright head of the girl whom he now believed to bewith himself motherless. But in a moment his father took his hand in atense, strong grasp, and drew him quickly forward. "She yet breathes, "he whispered, "but is unable to recognize any of us. Heaven grant shemay know you. For days past her moan has been, 'I cannot die until Isee my son, until I see my first-born. '"

His voice broke as they entered the chamber of death. The young man, feeling strangely weak and blind, sat down beside the bed, for theawful hush of this darkened room weighed heavily upon him. As in aterrible dream he saw the sorrowing forms of his younger brother andsister, crouching at his feet, poor Rose drooping in the doorway, hisfather's trembling hands grasping a post of the high, old-fashionedbedstead, and, on the other side of the bed a youthful stranger, whoseblack dress and very black hair divinely framed a face and throat ofmilky whiteness. These objects left but a weak impression upon hisdulled senses, for all his soul was going out in resistless longingtowards the fast-ebbing life that seemed to be slipping away from hisfeeble grasp. He stroked the little bloodless hand, and kissedrepeatedly the wasted cheek, uttering at the same time low murmurs ofentreaty that she would look upon him once more before she died. Allin vain. Utterly still and unresponsive as death itself, she laybefore him. "Dear mother, " he implored, "it is your son, your ownEdward that calls you. Can you not hear? Will you not come back to mea single moment? Ah, I cannot let you go; I cannot, I cannot!" Hisvoice sank in a passionate murmur of grief. "You will look at me once, will you not? Oh, mother, mother, mother!"

He had fallen to his knees, with his face on the pillow close to hers, and his last words smote upon her ear like the inarticulate wail of aninfant whose life must perish along with the strong sustaining life ofher who gave it birth. The head turned ever so slightly, the eyelidsquivered faintly and lifted, and her eyes looked fully and tenderlyupon her son. Then, with a mighty effort, she raised one transparenthand, and brought it feebly, flutteringly, higher and higher, untilit lay upon his cheek. A strange faint light of unearthly sweetnessplayed about her lips. It was a light as sweet and beautiful asher own life had been, but now it paled and faded--brightenedagain--flickered a moment--and then went out forever. 

The sad sound of children weeping broke the silence of thedeath-chamber. Edward still knelt, and Rose was bowed with grief; butthe old Commodore's courageous voice sounded as though wrung from thedepths of his sorely-stricken heart:

"The Lord gave, and the Lord--" his tongue failed him, but after amomentary struggle he continued in shaking tones--"and the Lord takethaway. _Blessed_--"

He could say no more. 

Surely the blessing that, for choking sobs, could not find utteranceon earth, was heard in heaven, and abundantly returned upon the braveand desolate spirit of him who strove to pronounce it. 

CHAPTER II. 

AN UPPER CANADIAN HOUSEHOLD. 

The breakfast-room of Pine Towers, on a bright, sunny morning, somethree or four days after the death of its much-respected mistress, held a large concourse of the notables of York, and other private andofficial gentry of the Province. They had come to take part, on theprevious day, in the funeral obsequies; and were now, after a night'srest and bountiful morning repast, about to return to the Capital. Among the number gathered to pay respect to the deceased lady'smemory, as well as to show their regard and sympathy for the bereavedhusband, the good old Commodore, were many whose names were "householdwords" in the early days of Upper Canada. Sixty years have passed overthe Province since the notable gathering, and all who were thenpresent have paid the debt of nature. Hushed now as are their voices, the Macleod breakfast-room, on the morning we have indicated, was aperfect babel of noise. The solemn pageant of the previous day, andthe sacred griefs of those whom the grim Enemy had made desolate, seemed at the moment to have been forgotten by the departing throng;and for a time the young master of Pine Towers, as he bade adieu tohis father's guests, witnessed a scene in sharp contrast to yesterday'sorderly decorum. It was with a sigh of relief that Edward Macleod sawthe last of the miscellaneous vehicles move off, and the final guesttake the road to the bateaux on the lake, to convey him and those whowere returning by water to Holland Landing, there to find the means ofreaching the Capital. 

Entering the house, empty now of all but those who were left of itsusual inmates, including his sister's friend, the beautifulHelene--whom he had hardly had an opportunity to more than greet onhis return from England--an overpowering sense of desolation fell uponhim. Seating himself near his mother's favourite window, the youngman's loneliness and bereavement found vent in tears. All the pastcame vividly before him--a mother's life-long devotion and tendercare; her thousand winning ways and loving endearments; her pride inhis future career and prospects; and the recollection of the manyinnocent confidences which a mother loves to pour into the ear of ahandsome, grown-up son, whose filial affection and chivalrous devotionassure her that she still possesses charms to which her husband andhis contemporaries of a previous generation had been wont sedulouslyto pay tribute. "Ah, beautiful mother, it is not to-day nor to-morrowthat I shall fully realize that I am to see thee no more on earth, "said the young man musingly, as he left his seat and strode nervouslyup and down the room, while his favourite hound from a rug by thelarge open fire-place eyed his agitated movements. 

Presently the young man's soliloquies were interrupted by the timidentrance of his sister, Rose, followed by the more decided and statelytread of the charming Helene. 

"Ah, Edward, " said his sister, "you are alone. Have all our guestsgone?"

"Yes, " was the reply, "and I am not sorry to have the house again toourselves. "

"You, of course, include Helene among the latter, " observed Roseinterrogatively. 

"I do, certainly, " was Edward's instant and cordial response, as heoffered Helene his hand to conduct her down the steps into theconservatory and out on to the lawn. "Miss DeBerczy, of course, is oneof us, though you told me this morning that she, too, expressed a wishto be gone. "

Helene interrupted these remarks with the explanation that her wish totake leave was owing to a mandate of her mother's which had reachedher that morning. 

"We shall all be sorry at your leaving us so soon, " was Edward'scourteous rejoinder. "But, when you go, " he added, "you must permit meto accompany you to 'Bellevue, ' for I wish to pay my respects to yourmamma; it is a long time now since we met. Besides, I have to deliverto her the cameos I brought her from England and the family trinketsyour uncle entrusted to my care. "

"Mamma, I know, is eager to receive them, and will be delighted towelcome you back. In her note, by the way, she tells me that CaptainJohn Franklin has written to her from York, asking permission to callupon her on his way north. You know that the Arctic Expedition is togo overland, by way of Penetanguishene and Rupert's Land, and is toeffect a junction with Captain Beechey's party operating from Hudson'sBay. "

"So I learned before I left England, " replied Edward. "I hope myfather, " he added, "will be able to meet the members of the Expedition. It would rouse him from his grief, and I know that he takes a greatinterest in Captain Franklin's project. "

The conversation was now monopolized by the ladies, for Helene tookRose aside to tell that young lady that her mamma had given her somenews of a young and handsome land-surveyor, of Barrie, of whom she hadheard Rose speak in terms of warm admiration. 

The gentleman referred to was Allan Dunlop, who, Helene related, hadbeen very useful at York to Captain Franklin, in giving him informationas to the route to be followed by his Expedition on its way to the"hoarse North sea. "

Rose visibly coloured as she listened to the young man's praises, inthe extract Helene's mother had enclosed from Captain Franklin'scommunication. That young lady protested, however, that Allan Dunlopwas her brother's friend, not hers. "Indeed, " she added, "we have onlyoccasionally met at the Church at Barrie, and I have not even beenintroduced to him. "

"Ah, and how is it that his name is always on your lips after everyservice I hear you have attended across the bay?" queried Helenearchly. 

The tints deepened on Rose's sweet, bright face as she apologeticallyurged "that at such times there was doubtless nothing better to talkabout. "

Happily for Rose the embarrassing conversation was interrupted by thereturn of her brother, who rejoined the ladies to say that on thehighway, at the end of the avenue down which he had strolled, a partyof marines and English shipwrights, in command of a naval officer, hadjust passed on their way to the post, near Barrie, to proceed on themorrow by the Notawassaga river to the Georgian Bay, and on to the newnaval station at Penetanguishene. A Mr. Galt, who accompanied theparty, and was on his way to the Canada Land Company's reserve in theHuron district, had brought him letters from York, among which, headded, was one from his old friend, Allan Dunlop, condoling with himon the loss of his mother and sending his respectful compliments tohis father and his family. 

"How curious!" observed Helene, "why, we've just been talking of Mr. Dunlop. "

"You mean to say, " interposed Rose, "that _you_ have just been talkingof him. "

"Well! that is quite a coincidence, Miss DeBerczy, but do you know myfriend?" asked Edward. 

"No, I've not that pleasure, " replied the beautiful Huguenot. "butyour sister, I believe, knows him--"

"Oh, Helene! I do _not_!" said Rose, interruptingly. 

Edward turned towards his sister, and for a moment regarded herlovingly. After a pause, he said, "Well, Sis, if you _do_ know him, you know one of the best and most promising of my early acquaintances, and from what I have heard of him since my return, I feel that I wantto improve my own acquaintance with him, and shall not be sorry toknow that he has become your friend as well as mine. "

"But, Edward, you must wait till I _do_ know him, " said Rose with someemphasis. "I know your friend by sight only, and have never spoken tohim; though, I confess, I have heard a good deal of him in the recentelection, and much that is favourable, though papa has taken a greatdislike to him on account of his political opinions. "

"Ah, papa's Tory prejudices would be sure to do injustice to Dunlop, "Edward rejoined; "but, I fear, " he added, "there is need in thepolitical arena of Upper Canada of just such a Reformer as he. "

At this stage of the conversation the old Commodore was observed onthe veranda, and Tredway approached the group to announce that lunchwas on the table. 

Commodore Macleod, as may be inferred from his son's remark about hisfather's Tory prejudices, was a Tory of the old school, a member ofthe Legislative Council of Upper Canada, and a firm ally and stiffupholder of the Provincial Executive, who had earned for themselves, by their autocratic rule, the rather sinister designation of "theFamily Compact. " As a trusted friend and loyal supporter of theoligarchy of the day, whom a well-known radical who figured prominentlyin the later history of the Province was wont to speak of as that armyof placemen and pensioners, "Paymasters, Receivers, Auditors, King, Lords and Commons, who swallowed the whole revenue of UpperCanada"--the reference to a man of the type of young Dunlop, whoaspired to political honours, was particularly distasteful, and sureto bring upon the object of his bitter animadversion the full vials ofhis wrath. 

Ralph Macleod was a grand specimen of the sturdy British seamen, whocontributed by their prowess to make England mistress of the seas. Heentered the navy during the war with Holland, and served under LordHowe, when that old "sea-dog, " in 1782, came to the relief ofGibraltar, against the combined forces of France and Spain. He servedsubsequently under Lord Rodney, in the West Indies, and was a shipmateof Nelson's in Sir John Jervis' victory over the Spanish fleet offCape St. Vincent. For his share in that action Macleod gained hiscaptaincy, while his friend Commodore Nelson was made a Rear-Admiral. In 1797 he was wounded at Camperdown while serving under AdmiralDuncan, and retired with the rank of Commodore. 

Early in the century, he married an English lady and came to Canada, where for a time he held various posts on the naval stations on theLakes, and was with Barclay, on his flagship, _The Detroit_, in thedisaster on Lake Erie, in September, 1813. Narrowly escaping captureby Commander Perry's forces at Put-in-Bay, he joined General Proctorin his retreat from Amherstburg to the Thames, and was present at thebattle of Moravian Town, where the Indian chief, Tecumseh, lost hislife. 

When the Treaty of Ghent terminated the war and left Canada inpossession of her own, Commodore Macleod, with other old navalofficers, retired from the service, and took grants of land in theneighbourhood of Lake Simcoe. Being possessed of considerable privatemeans, the Commodore built a palatial residence on the borders of thatlake, and varied the monotony of a life ashore by an engrossinginterest in politics and the active duties of a Legislative Councillor. The illness of his wife, to whom he was devoted, had in the past twoyears almost entirely withdrawn him from political life, and lost tohis colleagues in the Upper House the services of one who took grimpleasure in strangling bills obnoxious to the dominant faction whichoriginated in the Lower Chamber. His temporary withdrawal from theLegislative Council, and the lengthened absence in England of Dr. Strachan, that sturdy ecclesiastic who was long the ruling spirit ofthe "Family Compact, " emboldened the leaders of Reform to inveighagainst the Hydra-headed abuses of the time, and sow broadcast thedragon-teeth of discontent and the seeds of a speedy harvest ofsedition. 

Already, Wm. Lyon Mackenzie had unfolded, in the lively columns of_The Colonial Advocate_, his "plentiful crop of grievances;" while theharsh operations of the Alien Act, the interdicting of immigrants fromthe United States, the arrogant claims of the Anglican Church to theexclusive possession of the Clergy Reserves, and the jobbery andcorruption that prevailed in the Land-granting Department of theGovernment, all contributed to fan the flame of discontent and sap theloyalty of the colony. In the Legislative Assembly each recurringsession added to the clamour of opposition, and emphasized the demandfor Responsible Government and Popular Rights. But as yet such demandswere looked upon as the ravings of lunacy or the impertinences oftreason. Constitutional Government, even in the mother-land, was notyet fully attained; and, in a distant dependency, it was not to beexpected that the prerogative of the Crown, or the rights andprivileges of its nominee, an irresponsible Executive, were to be madesubordinate to the will of the people. "Take care what you are aboutin Canada, " were the irate words William IV. Hurled at his ministers, some few years after the period of which we are writing. "By--!" addedthis constitutional monarch, "I will never consent to alienate theCrown Lands nor to make the Council elective. "

With such outbursts of royal petulance and old-time kingcraft, andsimilar ebullitions from Downing Street, exhorting the Upper CanadianAdministration to hold tight the reins of government, the reformingspirit of the period had a hard time of it in entering on its manyyears conflict with an arrogant and bureaucratic Executive. Of many ofthe members of the ruling faction of the time it may not become us nowto speak harshly, for most of them were men of education andrefinement, and in their day did good service to the State. If, in theexercise of their office, they lacked consideration at times for theless favoured of their fellow-colonists, they had the instincts andbearing of gentlemen, save, it may be, when, in conclave, occasiondrove them to a violent and contemptuous opposition to the will of thepeople. But men--most of all politicians--naturally defend theprivileges which, they enjoy; and the exceptional circumstances of thecountry seemed at the time to give to the holders of office aprescriptive right to their position and emoluments. 

At the period of which we are writing, there was much need of wisemoderation on the side of the governed as well as on that of thegoverning class. But of moderation there was little; and the nature ofthe evils complained of, the non-conciliatory attitude of the rulingoligarchy, and the licence which a "Free Press, "--recently introducedinto the colony, --gave in formulating charges of corruption, and inloosening the tongue of invective, made it almost impossible todiscuss affairs of State, save in the heated terms familiar toirritated and incensed combatants. It was at this period that theyoung land-surveyor, Allan Dunlop, entered the Legislative Assemblyand took his seat as member for the Northern division of the HomeDistrict. Though warmly espousing the cause of the people in theever-recurring collisions with the different branches of theGovernment, and as warmly asserting the rights and privileges of thepopular Chamber in its struggles with the autocracy of the UpperHouse, the young Parliamentarian was equally jealous of the reasonableprerogative of the Crown, and temperate in the language he used whenhe had occasion to decry its abuse. He was one of the few in theLegislature who, while they recognized that the old system ofgovernment was becoming less and less suited to the genius and wantsof the young Canadian community, at the same time wished to usher inthe new _regime_ with the moderation and tact which mark the work ofthe thoughtful politician and the aims of the true statesman. It hasbeen said that one never knows what is inside a politician. What wasinside the Reformer, Allan Dunlop, was all that became a patriot anda high-minded gentleman. 

CHAPTER III. 

"WHEN SUMMER DAYS WERE FAIR. "

Afterwards--for close upon the coming of every grief, however great, fall the slow, dull footsteps of Afterwards--, the bereaved Macleodfamily took up again the occupations and interests of life in thebenumbed fashion of those whose nerves are slow in recovering theeffect of a great shock. Edward alone bore a brave front, though hisheart at times failed him. He was something of a puzzle to the friendof his sister, who could not reconcile the tears which she saw in hiseyes one moment to the jest she heard from his lips the next, and whomarvelled in secret that the utter abandon of his grief at the bedsideof his dying mother had not been followed by a state of settledmelancholy after her death. To the cool, steadfast nature ofMademoiselle DeBerczy this alternate light and shade, gaiety andgrief, in the heart of Rose, as well as of her brother, was difficultto understand; but now she began faintly to perceive that to theirardent temperament sunshine came as naturally as it did to the firstday of spring, which, while it ached with the remembrance of winter, could not wholly repress on that account its natural brightness. Certainly Edward Macleod, though his unusually pale face gave evidenceof the suffering which he had lately experienced--nay, which he waseven now experiencing--could not say that life for him was utterlywithout consolation. For the sake of the stricken household, for thesake of her who had left them desolate, he would be a man; and, beingthat complex creature, a man, involves not only the lofty virtues ofcourage and self-forgetfulness, but also a tender susceptibility tothe charms of these perfect spring days, and to the no less alluringcharms of a maiden in the spring-time of youth. 

Nearly a week had elapsed since the funeral of Mrs. Macleod, and now asecond message from home had been received by Helene DeBerczy, reminding her that her invalid mother had claims which could no longerbe set aside. If Madame DeBerczy's language was seldom imperative, herintention abundantly made up for the deficiency. Consequently, herdaughter was now reluctantly turning her face homeward--a dulloutlook, brightened only by the prospect of a boat-ride down the baywith Edward and Rose. 

"And to think, " said Edward to Helene, as the trio paced the longavenue together, "that I scarcely recognized you on the evening of myreturn!"

"That is not surprising. I am an entirely different person from theone you left three years ago. "

"Let me see, " mused the young man, "three years ago you were a littleinclined to be haughty and cold, occasionally difficult to please, andsometimes exacting. On the whole, 'tis pleasant to reflect that youare an entirely different person now. "

He turned towards her with a merry glance, but her face was invisible. She wore one of those long straw bonnets, no doubt esteemed verypretty and stylish in that day, but marred by what a disciple ofFowler might call a remarkable phrenological development of theanterior portion. This severely intellectual quality in the bonnets ofthat time naturally stood in the way of the merely sensuous delightsof observation. Edward had barely time to be reminded of an unusedwell, in whose dark, shallow depths his boyish eyes had oncediscovered a cluster of white water-lilies, languidly opening to thelight, when the liquid eyes and lily-like face in the inner vista ofthis well-like bonnet again confronted him. 

"Is that the sort of person I used to be?" she queried, with theincredulity one naturally feels on being presented with a slightlyexaggerated outline of one's own failings. "What pleasant memories youmust have carried away with you!"

"I did, indeed--myriads of them. Some of the pleasantest wereconnected with our last dance together. Do you remember it?"

A slight warmth crept up, not into her cheeks, but into her eyes. "Ihave never forgiven you for that, " she said. 

"And you don't deserve forgiveness, " declared Rose, championing thecause of her friend. 

"Ah, well, " said the culprit, "perhaps I had better wait till Ideserve it before I plead for it. "

How strange and far away, almost like part of their childhood, seemedthe time of which he spoke. Like a painted picture, suddenly thrustbefore their view, the scene came back to them. A windy night in lateAutumn, illumined without only by the broad shafts of light from theCommodore's mansion, and within by the leaping flames in the big hallfire-place. The young people had improvised a dance in the great hall, and Helene had tantalizingly bestowed most of her favours upon FredJarvis, a handsome youngster of twenty, who frequently improved hisopportunities of becoming the special object of Edward's boyishenmity. To fall a willing victim to the pangs of jealousy formed, however, no part of this young gentleman's intention. Returning latein the evening, he caught a glimpse of Fred and Helene dancing astately minuet together, and, lightly securing his horse at the door, he entered the hall, just as Helene was protesting that she was tootired to dance any longer. "Just once with me, " he pleaded; and theirwinged footsteps kept time to the tumultuous throbbing of the music. The young girl suddenly grew faint. "Give me air, " she cried, and atthe words Edward's strong arm swept her across the broad veranda, andup on the waiting steed. Mounting behind her, like another youngLochinvar, they dashed wildly off, but just in what direction couldnot be told, for Helene, in mingled consternation, exhaustion, andalarm, had fainted in earnest, and Edward, in the endeavour to holdher limp, unconscious figure before him, had dropped the reins. Thesteed, however, with a prudent indisposition for pastures new at thathour of the night, turned into a stubble-field, and brought up at ahaystack. How, in the utter darkness, and with the wind blowing agale, the young man managed to restore his companion to consciousnessand bring her back to the house, were mysteries which Rose could neverattempt to penetrate with any degree of satisfaction. Helene, ofcourse, was superbly angry, and even this bare mention of the escapadebrought fire to her eyes and a loftier poise to the well-set head. Strongly set about the heart of this young Huguenot were barriers ofpride, that could not be overleaped in a day--scarcely in a life-time. 

"It is a bargain, then, " said Edward, with a mischievous light in hissmile, "you will never forgive, and I shall never forget. "

"I wish, if it isn't asking too much, that you would allow me toforget. I particularly want to forget everything unpleasant on amorning as beautiful as this, " rejoined Helene. 

It was indeed an ideal morning. The sky was as soft and warm, as blueand white, as only the skies of early summer can be. Treading themingled shadow and light, thrown from the interlacing boughs above, they came at last to the blue curves of Kempenfeldt Bay, whose waveslapped lightly on the beach. Here they found the two younger Macleodchildren, who had come to see the party off. Just as the latterarrived, the youth, Herbert, who had been amusing himself rocking apunt in a creek by the shore, managed to upset the craft andprecipitate himself into deep water. The mishap had no more seriousresult--for the lad was a good swimmer--than to frighten Rose, anddeprive her of the anticipated pleasure of a visit to "Bellevue" withHelene and her brother Edward. Bidding the former a hurried goodbye, with injunctions to her brother to take care of her friend, Rosedisappeared with the children into the woods. 

The young man now released a row-boat from its bondage to the shore, helped his companion into it, and pushed it far out upon its nativeelement. A new day in the New World, and a long boat-ride beforethem--what could they wish for more? Edward, at least, enjoyed theprospect extremely, especially when he could get the bonnet rightlyfocused. This was a matter somewhat difficult of achievement, as itsowner had to his mind a heedless habit of dodging, and his remarks, instead of being didactic and improving in their nature, werenecessarily exclamatory and interrogative, in order to gain theattention of his fair _vis-a-vis_. Being a young gentleman of literarytastes he thought of Addison's dissertation upon the fan, and itsgreat adaptability to the purposes of the coquette. To the mind ofthis impartial critic, a fan was not half so effective and terrible aweapon as the present style of bonnet. 

"Bother Addison!" he suddenly exclaimed aloud. 

"I beg your pardon, " said a voice from the depths of the obnoxioushead-gear before him. 

"I was thinking of the author of _The Spectator_. You know Johnsonsays we ought to give our days and nights to the study of Addison. Don't you think it would be more profitable for us to devote our daysand nights to the study of Nature?"

"Undoubtedly; and especially in this short-summered region, wherethere are only a few months of the year in which one can pursue one'sstudies out of doors. My days are spent on the shore, and as for mynights--well, even at night I often go to sleep to the fancy that I amdrifting over the water with just such a gentle movement as this. "

"I hope, " said Edward gravely, "that you have an efficient oarsman. You couldn't row and sleep at the same time, you know. "

He looked up to see if his companion was struck with the force of thisobservation, but although they were moving towards the east, thebonnet pointed due north. There was also a slight suspicion of thewintry north in the tone with which she replied:

"Oh, there is no labour connected with it; I am merely drifting--driftingto the Isle of Sleep. "

"That is a pretty idea, but it is too lonely and listless to suit me. I should prefer to have a young lady in the boat--and a pair of oars. "

"In that case you would have to row, " and, with a slightly mockingaccent, "you couldn't row and sleep at the same time, you know. "

"In that case I should never want to sleep. No, please, Miss DeBerczy, don't look to the north again. Every time your gaze is riveted uponthat frozen region my heart sinks within me. I feel as if I were notentertaining you as well as I should. "

"Oh, don't let that illusion disturb you. I have never doubted thatyou were entertaining me as well as you--could. "

A brief silence fell upon them, broken only by the regular plash ofthe oars. In the young man's conversational attacks there had beennothing but a light play of sunny humour, but in this last retort ofhers there was something like the glimmer of cold steel. It woundedhim, yet he was unwilling either to conceal or reveal the hurt. ButHelene DeBerczy had this weakness, common to generous souls, that shecould not utter an ungenerous remark without suffering more than hervictim. So, scarcely more than a minute elapsed before she saidappealingly, "You are not going to leave me with the last word, are you?"

"Is not that what your sex specially like to have?"

"Perhaps so. I should prefer to have the _best_ word, and--"

"And let a certain well-known gentleman take the hindmost?" suppliedthe young man smilingly. 

"If he only would! What a shocking thing to say, but with me it isalways conscience who has the very hindmost word; and my conscience isperfect mistress of the art of saying disagreeable things. At thepresent moment she is trying to make me believe that I have beenunpardonably rude to you. "

"She is mistaken then, for even if it were possible for you to berude, I could not fail to pardon you immediately. "

"There! now you have had the best word. It is useless for me to try tosay anything better than that. Perhaps the most becoming thing I coulddo would be to relapse into ignominious silence. "

"Silence! Desolation! And with a two-mile pull yet before us! If Ihave had the best word you have uttered the worst one. What soterrible as silence?"

"It is said to be golden. "

"And, like the gold that Robinson Crusoe discovered on his island, itis of no particular use to anyone. "

"It is one of the charms of Nature. "

"A charm that I have never discovered. What about the ever-present humof multitudinous insects, the song of birds, the moan of winds, thelaughter of leaping water? It seems to me that Nature is all voice. "

"Then, suppose, " said the undaunted young lady, lifting her languorouslids, "that we listen to her voice. "

There was no answering this; but, as the bonnet now veered towards thesunny south, and the boat rounding the sharp corner of the bayabruptly turned in the same direction, the young man was surprised tofind himself looking his companion fully in the face, caught in thesudden sunshine of her smile. 

"I was about to remark, " he said, emboldened by this token of favour, "that there is nothing I delight in so much as listening to the voiceof nature--that is human nature. "

The smile deepened into a rippling laugh. "I am in one of my inhumanmoods this morning, " she said, "but I believe my forte is actionrather than speech. Let me take your place, and those oars, please. "

He resigned them both, and at once; not because the unusual exertionhad made any appreciable inroad upon his strength, but because heforesaw new phases of picturesqueness in the young girl's daintyhandling of the oars. Nor was he disappointed. The skirt of her dresswas narrow and long, beginning, like an infant's robe, a few inchesbelow the arms, and thence descending in softly curving lines to herfeet, with as little hint of rigidity or compression about thetenderly rounded waist as about the full fair throat above it. Shestretched out a pair of shoes, incredibly small and unmistakablyFrench, and bent her slender gauntleted hands blithely to their task. The newborn sweetness of the spring morning was about them. On theheavily wooded shore the great evergreens towered darkly against thesun, but its beams fell with dazzling brightness upon the meadowyundulations of the lake. Above them they heard at times the wild cryof the soaring gull, or the apparently disembodied voice of someunseen bird. Behind them they left the beautiful stretch of KempenfeldtBay, gleaming in the sunshine, and now they slowly ascended the watersof Cook's Bay, called after the great circumnavigator, under whom manyof the naval officers who had settled in the region had served, Governor Simcoe's father, after whom the old Lac des Clies--as theFrench called it--had received its modern name, being a shipmate. 

But, now, Helene, whose slender strength had succumbed to thedifficulties of propelling their little craft, resumed her old seat, and her bonnet, like a dark lantern, sometimes allowed a charminglight to be reflected upon surrounding objects, and then as suddenlywithdrew it. In the blue distance, near the mouth of the HollandRiver, they caught the first glimpse of "Bellevue"--the home of theDeBerczy's. The long sunlit run had after all been too brief. Edwardbegan to realize that some days might elapse before this pleasurecould be repeated. He drew in his oars, and let the boat rock idly onthe tide. His companion gave him an inquiring glance. "I wish, " saidhe, "that you would do me a favour. "

"Isn't that rather an extraordinary request?"

"Not at all. It is a very natural remark. It has not yet advanced sofar as to be a request. "

"Oh! well, of course, I can't grant what isn't a request. "

"Does that mean that you can grant what is one?"

"Sometimes. "

"How good of you! But, as I said before, I had only expressed a wish. Aren't you in the least interested in my wishes?"

"If you were interested in mine you would take up those oars again. "

"And thereby shorten the term of your imprisonment by me! Yourkindness emboldens me to make known my desire. I wish you would let meexamine something that appears to be hanging to your bonnet. "

"Is it a grub--a caterpillar--a spider?" These horrors were mentionedin the order of their detestability, and with a rising accent. 

"Really, I wouldn't like to say, unless you remove the bonnet. " Shegave a convulsive twitch to the strings, and pulled them into a hardknot. "Can't you brush it off?" she asked Edward breathlessly. 

"Pray do not be so alarmed. No, indeed, I couldn't brush it off. Itsticks too fast for that. I wish, " he said, as she made a franticlurch towards him, "that you could be mild but firm--I mean not quiteso agitated. " Her breath came in quick perfumed wafts into his face, as his steady fingers strove to undo the knot in her ribbons. But evenafter this lengthy business was concluded his trouble (if it couldrightly be called a trouble) was only half over, for the careful Rose, with a prudent foreknowledge of the power of lake breezes todisarrange, if not carry away altogether, the headgear of helplesswoman, had by some ingenious arrangement of hair-pins fastened thebonnet to the raven locks of her friend in such a manner that it couldnot be removed without endangering the structure of her elaboratehair-architecture. So it was among the dark waves of rapidlydown-flowing tresses that Helene's voice was again heard beseechinghim to tell her what it was. 

"Your scientific curiosity seems to be almost as great as your fear ofthe insect creation. But, really, it is quite a harmless littlefellow. See!" and he pointed to a steel beetle set with a view toornamental effect in the centre of a little rosette of ribbons. 

"Oh, shameless!" exclaimed the young girl, sinking her lily-white faceagain among the abundant waves of her hair. 

"Yes, I daresay he is ashamed enough to think that he isn't alive whenhe sees that you regret it so much. "

It is very annoying to be obliged to laugh when one has just made upone's mind to be very angry; but Mademoiselle DeBerczy, with all herhaughtiness, was endowed with a sense of humour; so it was with only aweak show of reproachful indignation that she at last threw back herhead and exclaimed:

"How could you--when I have such a horror of every sort of creepingthing--and you knew what it was all the time!"

"Oh, excuse me, I did not know--that is, I wasn't positive. At adistance I thought it was some sort of a big fly--a blue-bottle. Now Isee it is a blue beetle. "

The young lady deigned no reply. 

"I am sorry that you were frightened, but you don't seem to be a bitsorry on account of my sufferings. "

"Your sufferings?"

"Yes, see how surprised you are even to know that they existed! Butthey are over now. At frequent intervals, all through this longvoyage, I have been forced to look at a heavenly body through atelescope--that is, when I could get the telescope properly adjustedto my vision. The difficulties of adjustment have cost me a world oftrouble. "

She gazed at him a moment in wide-eyed amazement, and then withoutattempting to solve the riddle of his remarks, proceeded to reduce herwind-blown locks to something like their usual law and order. The darkheavy waves, rioting in the breeze, seemed to offer a problem to thedeft white fingers that fluttered among them, but they were speedilysubjugated, and the despised bonnet was added as the crowning touch. Not a moment too soon, for the boat grated on the sandy beach, and theaustere windows of her home were looking coldly down upon her. A pairof austere eyes were also fixedly regarding her; but of this Helenewas happily unconscious. Perhaps it was the instinct of hospitalityalone that made her smile so brightly upon the brother of her friend, as they walked up to the house together. The grounds about "Bellevue, "not so ample as those surrounding the home of the old Commodore, gaveequal evidence of wealth and taste, and reminded one of a little parkset in the midst of the wilderness. The garden borders were brightwith crocuses and snowdrops and rich in promises of future bloom, while from the orchard slopes on the left came a fair vision ofwall-like masses of foliage, frescoed with blossoms and the perfumedtouch of the blithe breezes at play among them. Entering the quaint, dimly-lighted hall, they passed under long plumes of peacock feathers, o'erhanging the arched doorway leading into the drawing-room. Thefloors were waxed and polished, the apartments spacious and lofty withelaborate cornices and panels. Leaving her guest in mute contemplationof a tiny wood fire in a great fire-place, the young girl ran lightlyup the broad, low stairway, pausing at the half-way landing to gazedreamily from a casemated window out upon the sparkling waters of thelake. Some of its brightness was reflected in her eyes, as, with astep less discreet and deferential than that which usuallycharacterized her approaches to her mother's bedchamber, she passed onto a half-closed door, tapped lightly upon it, and then pushed it wideopen. 

"Ah, my daughter, what tidings do you bring?"

"He has come!" declared the girl, proclaiming with unaffected gladnesswhat was at that moment a great event in her life. 

"He!"

The chilly palm which the elder lady had extended, without rising, forthe customary greeting, was not so chilly as the tone with which sheuttered this offending pronoun. Helene, suddenly remembering with deepself-reproach the grief that her mother must feel in the loss of herold friend, took the cold fingers in both her warm white hands, andwhispered tenderly:

"She has gone!"

Madame DeBerczy was not overcome by this intelligence. She had indeedlearned the sad truth from Tredway, who had been despatched to"Bellevue" by the Commodore immediately upon the death of his wife. Consequently, at this moment, her heart did not suffer so much as hersense of propriety--which her enemies asserted was a more vital organ. 

"I trust, " she said, not unkindly, but with a sort of majesticdispleasure, "that you do not mention these facts to me in what youconsider the order of their importance. "

The young girl was chilled. She moved away to one of the spindle-leggedchairs near a window, and played absently with the knotted fringes ofthe old-fashioned dimity curtain. "I mention them in the order oftheir occurrence, " she said gently. "Dear Mrs. Macleod could scarcelyclose her eyes on earth until they rested upon her son. He brought meover in his boat this morning, and is waiting below to see you. Do youfeel able to go down?"

"I hope I shall always be able to respond to social requirements, andthe son of my old friend must not be slighted. Were you about tosuggest that I receive him in my bedchamber?"

Helene, who had risen with charming alertness at the first intimationof her mother's intentions, now confronted that frigid dame with thesubdued radiance of her glance. "Ah, dear mother!" she murmureddeprecatingly. Daughterly submissiveness, tender consideration for aninvalid's querulous moods, gentle insistence upon her own right to behappy in spite of them, were all radiated from the softly spokenwords. Rigid propriety may have slain its thousands, perhaps its tensof thousands, but the elder lady foresaw with terrible clearness thatit would never find a victim in this blithe girl, who refrained fromdancing down the stairs before her simply because her happiness wasaccustomed to find expression in her looks, not in her actions. However, motherly allegiance to duty might curb if it could notaltogether control. "Is it possible that I heard you humming a tune asyou came through the hall?" she inquired. 

"No, no; it is impossible! I hummed it so low that you certainly couldnot have heard it!"

Dignified rebuke was out of the question, as they had reached the footof the stairway. In another moment Edward Macleod was bendingprofoundly over the hand of his hostess. The aristocratic, little oldlady, with her delicate faded face, always seemed to him like somerare piece of porcelain or other fragile, highly-finished object. Heled her to the easiest chair, and drew his own close beside her, onlyinterrupting the absorbed attention which he gave to her remarks bysoft inquiries regarding her health, or compliments upon the way inwhich her not very vigorous constitution had withstood the severity ofthe Canadian winter. 

This noble dame, though she had been accustomed to a Northern climate, had never reconciled herself to it. She still longed for _la belleFrance_. Those who accompanied her husband to this portion of UpperCanada, on the outbreak of the French Revolution, had either returnedto France or had gone to settle in French Canada, at the capital ofwhich Helene was born shortly after the death of her father. The oldfriendship of General DeBerczy for Commodore Macleod, and the factthat the latter was the executor of her husband's estate and theguardian of her daughter, had led her to return to the Huguenot colonyon the Oak Ridges, and summer always found Madame and her household ather northern villa, near the Macleod residence, on Lake Simcoe. HereEdward passed the day gossiping with the old lady, and saunteringabout the trim grounds with the stately Helene until the afternoon wasfar advanced. 

After taking his leave of Madame DeBerczy, Edward cast a fugitiveglance about him in search of her daughter, but that young lady, forreasons of her own, was absent. He suffered a vague disappointment, ashe took his way to the shore, but at the water's edge a girlish formovertook him, and a superb bouquet of hot-house flowers was placed inhis hand. 

"I brought them for you to place upon--upon--"

She hesitated. It sounded like wanton cruelty to say "your mother'sgrave" to him, whose idea of everything lovely on earth must besignified in the word "mother, " everything terrible in the word"grave. " But he understood her, and thanked her, while his heart andeyes filled fast. On that lonely homeward row the burden of hisbereavement lay heavily upon him, and the remembrance of his happymorning with his childhood's friend, though sweet, was almost as faintas the fragrance exhaled from the rare exotics at his feet. The puretender curves of the white camellias reminded him of Helene. Sheherself was the rare product of choicest care and cultivation--theflower of an old and complex civilization. The fancy pleased him atfirst, and then woke in his mind a certain vague disdain. What placehad hot-house plants, either human or otherwise, in this wild newland, whose illimitable forests as yet were almost strangers to axeand fire?

In a remote and solitary corner of his own domain, the Commodore hadmade for his dead wife a last abiding-place. Thitherward, and alone, the motherless youth bent his steps in the soft glow of sunset. Thestillness of the place was broken only by the whisper of the treesoverhead, the faint hum of insects, and the low murmur of the lappingwaters of the lake. Walking with downbent head and step so light thathis footfall made no slightest sound upon the young grass in his path, he did not see the form of a half wild, wholly beautiful girl, emergefrom the deep gloom of the woods before him. Nor did she observe him, for her attention was wholly bent upon the armful of forest-flowers, which she let fall upon the grave with a passionate gesture of grief. The young man, looking up in startled amaze, recognized the strange, fantastic figure that had fled before his approach on the evening ofhis return home. He scarcely noticed her odd costume of mingled blueand yellow, so drawn was he to the dusky splendour of her face. Thewarm vitality of the mantling cheek, and the charm of the lustrouslips, were matched in hue by a blood-coloured 'kerchief, carelesslyknotted about the supple, tawny throat, behind which streamed aprofuse abundance of deep-black hair. Giving him one frightenedglance, she turned and sped like some strange tropic bird upon thewind. Moved by wonder, curiosity, and admiration, the young man gavestealthy chase; but, after following in the wake of her flying feet bybush and brier, and through the tangled thickets of the forest, he hadthe poor satisfaction of losing sight of her altogether, and thengaining one last glimpse of her, as, from the dense shadowy pointwhere she became invisible, shot out a birch-bark canoe, and the dyingsunset illumined with all the hues of victory the superb form of anAlgonquin maiden rapidly rowing away. Hot, irritated, and tired, Edward returned home, nor did he observe that, in this fruitlesschase, one of the pure buds that Helene had given him had fallen fromhis breast, on which he had pinned it, and had been rudely crushedbeneath his heel. 

CHAPTER IV. 

INDIAN ANNALS AND LEGENDS. 

The last flame of sunset had gone out on a horizon of ashy paleness, as the light bark of the Indian girl swept up the beach, and itsoccupant, after making it secure, loitered idly home. Here, undismayedby observation, she was as gracefully at ease as a fawn in its leafycovert, and as quickly startled into flight at the tread of a stranger. 

So lightly did her moccasined feet press the underbrush that no soundpreceded her coming, until she reached the blanketed opening of awigwam where sat an aged Algonquin chief, very grave, very dignified, very far from being immaculately clean. The young girl was notintimidated by this picturesque combination of dignity and dirt. Perhaps it was the absence of these qualities in the young cadet thatcaused her sudden flight from him. Seating herself on a bearskin, notfar from her foster-father, she interchanged with him mellow syllablesof greeting. The chief placed a finger upon her moist brow, andinquired the cause of her haste. 

"It was the young kinsman of the Wild Rose who followed me. His headis beautiful as the sun, but he moves, alas, yes, he moves moreslowly. "

"Then, why this haste?" queried the Indian, who, though he could boastall the keen and subtle instincts of his race, was apparently in somematters as obtuse as a white man. 

The girl bowed her face upon her slim brown hands. 

"I do not like the glances of his eye, " she said. "They are strong anddazzling as sunbeams on the water. "

The chief smoked in meditative silence. "You go too often to thedwelling of the Wild Rose, my daughter. "

"Ah, yes; but to-night her pink face is dewy wet, I know, and she isalone. The Moon-in-a-black-cloud has gone to the home of her people. "

"Then let her seek consolation in the slow moving sun. The pale-facednation are not fit associates for an Algonquin maiden. Mother Earthhas no love for them; they are quick to wash away her lightestfinger-touch upon them. They are pale and lifeless as a rock overwhich the stream washes continually. Their men are afraid of the rain;their women of the sunshine. "

"It is even so. The Wild Rose covers her head, and even her hands, when she leaves the house. "

At this mournful assent the chief warmed to his task of depreciation. 

"They are degraded, these pale faces, they are poor-spirited, mean, contemptible; unable to cope with the wild beasts of the forest, theysettle down in weak resignation to grow vegetables; nothing stirs themfrom their state of ignoble content except the call to battle, andthat is responded to not in defence of the lives of their fathers, their wives and children, but merely to settle some petty quarrelbetween the chiefs of their nations. 

"Ah, they are a strange, servile race! They work with their hands. "The Indian paused and looked down at the wrinkled yet shapely membersthat lay before him. "They look upon the grand forest as their naturalenemy, burning, cutting, mutilating, until they have made that odiousthing 'a clearing, ' when a house is built with the dead bodies of thebeautiful trees that have fallen by their hand. "

"But surely they are not wholly bad, " pleaded the girl, her kind heartrefusing to accept the belief that even the lowest of humanity couldbe utterly worthless. 

The chief was not to be turned from the swift current of his thoughtsby idle interruptions. 

"Their religion is dead, buried in a book, and they put it from themas easily as they put the book on the shelf. Our religion is alive, broad as the earth, deep as the sky. They go into a _house_ toworship; _our_ temple is fashioned by the great Spirit, and ourprayers ascend continually like the white smoke from our wigwams. Ah, but they should be pitied not blamed. They are far from the heart ofnature--they have ceased to be her children. "

"It is money they worship, and the soul of a man becomes like thatwhich he adores. They mourn bitterly for their dead, because they feelhow great is the distance between them and the land of spirits. I haveheard that there are white men who do not believe that this landexists, but that cannot be true. "

There were some depths of degradation that even his far-reachingimagination failed to compass. Wanda listened wearily, though shemanifested no signs of impatience. 

"The pale-faced women are sometimes very beautiful, " she said. 

"Yes; but they are strange, unnatural creatures. In times of angerthey attack their helpless little ones, talking in a harsh voice, pinching, beating, slapping them, doing everything but bite them. "

His listener did not shudder. The Indian, no matter how much hisfeelings may be stirred, is unaccustomed to evince emotion. 

"With us, " continued the old man, "an angry woman frequently pulls herhusband's hair; for is he not her husband to do with what she likes?but to fall upon her own flesh and blood--that is unnatural andhorrible. It is as if she should wilfully injure her own person, bruise it with stones or sear it with hot irons. Perhaps it is becausethe pale-faced tribes suffer so much in childhood that they are weakand cowardly in manhood. They shrink and cry like a wounded panther atthe touch of pain. "

The girl who had not dwelt upon it except in her thoughts wasnevertheless filled with a gently uplifting sense of race superiority. Her admiration of Rose was tinged with pity. Poor garden flower, confined for life to the dull walks and prim parterres of a fixedenclosure, when she might roam the wild paths of the forest; condemnedto sleep in a close room, on stifling feathers, and bathe in anelongated tub, when she might feel the elasticity of hemlock boughsbeneath her, inhale the perfumed breath of myriad trees, and plunge atsunrise into the gleaming waters of the lake. It was indeed a pitiablelife. 

They entered the wigwam, and seated themselves on the rush mats thatlay upon the ground. About them were carelessly disposed some dressedskins of the beaver and otter, a brace of wild duck, fishing tackle, and the accoutrements of the chase, a rifle, powder-horn and shotpouch. The chief himself, in his buckskin garment, tightened by awampum belt, his deer-skin moccasins, scarlet cloth leggings andblanket, was not the least picturesque object of the interior. Usuallyreticent, he found great difficulty to-night in withdrawing his mindfrom the subject that had taken such violent possession of it. 

"The influence of the white race is spreading, " he said. "Like thepoison vines of the forest it touches all who come near it with fataleffect. The tribe of the Hurons is infected with it, and they arebecoming mere tillers of the soil--miserable earth-worms! Men weremade to be free as the bounding deer or the flowing stream, but theyhave paled and weakened, they have become wretched grovellers on theground. "

Wanda's large eyes held a smouldering fire of repressed indignation. Her mother had been a Huron. 

The story of that dark time, far back in the annals of Canada, whenthe Huron hunting-grounds in this region were laid waste by thedestroyer, had been told her so often that her childish imaginationhad been filled with horror, and a passionate sense of outragedjustice and impossible revenge stirred within her at the bare mentionof her mother's martyred tribe. She did not vent her feelings inbitter or retaliatory speech--that is the weakness of fairer-facedwomen--but through her brain rushed like a swift stream a vividrecollection of the tragic tale as it fell from the lips of her Huronmother upon her young horror-stricken heart. 

Less than two hundred years before, the poetry of Indian life amongthe peaceful shades of this virgin wilderness was turned into a taletoo ghastly for human imagination, too terrible for human endurance. At that time the Huron settlements on the borders of Lakes Simcoe andCouchiching, and between Nottawasaga and Matchedash bays, numberedfrom twenty to thirty thousand souls. The picturesque country, thicklydotted with Indian towns, was for many years the scene of Champlain'szealous efforts to erect in these western wilds the standard of theCross. While he won, among the Hurons, converts to his faith and acolony to his country, they found in him a leader in a fateful attackupon their ancient and most obdurate enemies, the Iroquois. The resultof the expedition was failure and discomfiture, but years afterwards, when Champlain was dead, and the "great-souled and giant-statured Jeande Brebeuf" became known as the apostle of the tribe, this foraybrought most disastrous consequences upon the unsuspecting Hurons. 

Not far from the present site of Barrie was the frontier town of St. Joseph, where the Jesuit Fathers, in view of the perils surroundingthem, had concentrated their forces in a central stronghold, with afurther inland defence at Ste. Marie, near the site of the presenttown of Penetanguishene. Here, at St. Joseph, after years of incessantlabour, of discomforts and discouragements without parallel in theannals of our country, the ardent souls whose enthusiasm for faith andduty had become the dominant principle of their life, were swept awayin the red tide of blood that was opened by the Iroquois. One stillfair morning in the summer of 1648, while most of the warriors wereabsent at the chase, and a company of devout worshippers werecelebrating Mass in the Mission Chapel, their brutish enemiesdescended upon their peaceful domains, and by means of every tortureconceivable to the savage imagination practically exterminated thetribe. Before the century had half-ended the mission post of St. Ignace was similarly invaded by the Iroquois, who, after they weariedof the pastime of hacking the flesh off their prisoners with tomahawksand hatchets, and scorching them with red-hot irons, bound them atlast to the stake and mercifully allowed the swift-mounting flames toend their sufferings. Whole families were bound in their houses beforethe town was set on fire, and their wild cries mingled with the wilderlaughter of their inhuman captors. The few who escaped were so woundedand mutilated that before they could reach a place of safety numbersof them died frozen in the woods. 

The remembrance of this dark tale never failed to stir the young girlto a sort of slow self-contained fury, but the blood of thepeace-loving Hurons was in her veins, and could not long be dominatedby the vengeful propensities of her haughty Algonquin father. Invariably with the mixture of blood comes the warring of diverseemotions, the dissatisfaction with the present life, the secretyearning for something better, the impulse towards something worse. She sighed furtively, and half-impatiently went outside to tend theevening camp-fire. The blazing branches illuminated the starlesssummer night, and cast a superb glow over the beautiful half-clothedfigure crouching not far from them. Beyond, the dark blue bay ebbedand flowed languidly. 

Some days elapsed before Wanda again made her appearance in theneighbourhood of the Commodore's mansion. This was caused partly byshyness, partly by fear of meeting the bold-eyed youth, whose interestin her had been so painfully apparent. At length Rose, who had notedwith wonder and a little anxiety this unusual absence, suggested toher brother that they call upon one of her Indian friends. To thisEdward demurred, on the ground that the work in which he happened tobe engaged at the time could not possibly wait. But when he learnedthat the beautiful Wanda was the friend alluded to he agreed to gowith her at once, saying that the work he was doing could wait as wellas not. Such was the manner in which brotherly affection was manifestedsixty years ago. 

It was a still, almost breathless evening in June. From the meadows, thickly starred with dew, rose the thin high chorus of the crickets, while above, the commingling of gray cloud and crimson sunset hadsubsided into dusk and golden twilight, which were giving place to thewhite radiance of the moon slowly climbing the warm heights of heaven. It was so quiet that the sound of waves and insects seemed like thesoftest whispers of nature. Rose and Edward had rowed down the bay forHelene, who usually accompanied them on their impromptu excursions bylake and wood. Seen in the pale brilliance of sky and water herloveliness had an almost unearthly quality, perfectly akin to thenight, but giving her a strange effect of soft remoteness from herfriends. The light from a brazier, fitted into a stanchion in the prowof the boat, in which some pieces of birch-bark were kindled, broughtthe deep dark shadow of the woods into sharp relief, and gave a morevivid brilliance to the immediate surroundings; but along the dimly-litpath in the forest all the magical influences of the night held sway. Beneath the tangled underbrush they caught glimpses of the rich andfantastic vegetation with which the earth was clothed, while abovethem, intermingled with the shadows cast by the vaulted boughs, playedthe vivid brightness of the moon. Some of the trees were deeplygirdled--a slow method of killing them. These lingering deaths affectedthe trio with melancholy. A wounded inmate of the grove, standing inmute and pathetic resignation to its fate, loses first the feeling ofthe sap that, blood-like, circulates through every limb, then all itsleafy honours fade, and its death is slow and inevitable as the deathof a forsaken woman who carries a deep hurt at the heart. 

Near where a group of lofty elms lifted their beautiful heads up tothe moonlight they found the old chief busily engaged in mending hisseine. He greeted them with entire self-possession, rising and givinghis hand to each, after which he resumed his occupation in tranquilcontent, as though the duties of hospitality were now over. The youngladies, however, without waiting for any further exhibition ofcourtesy, seated themselves on a mossy log, and bestowed upon theirhost and his employment the flattering attention, which, if it failedto make an impression upon him, would certainly prove him more--orless--than mortal man. Edward, meantime, finding a convenient bough afew feet above his head, amused himself in swinging by his hands, witha view to muscular development. The contrast between the sad dignityof the aged Indian, the lone survivor of a despised race, and thelight-heartedness of the fair boy, upon whom all the hopes of hisfamily centred, struck both girls forcibly. After a few sympatheticinquiries regarding the health of the chief, Rose asked after thewhereabouts of Wanda. 

"She is not here, " he replied. "She flies from our home as a birdflies from its cage, returning only when she is weary, or when theshades of night are upon the land. "

"Do you know where she is?" inquired Edward, dropping to his feet, andseating himself on a log facing the others. 

"Somewhere in the forest, " replied the Indian, indicating the directionby a broad sweep of the hand, which might include a thousand acres. 

This was sufficiently indefinite. "It appears to be characteristic ofthis young lady that she is either a vanished joy, or just on thepoint of becoming one. Have you any idea how far away she is?" heasked. 

"Something more than twice the flight of an arrow, " tranquillyanswered the Indian--"yes, much more. It used to be that she wentshort distances, but she now goes a papoose's journey of half asun--sometimes further. " He viewed his impatient guest a moment withgravity, and added, "yes, much further. "

"And you trust her all alone?"

"She is an Algonquin maiden. She fears nothing. "

"And why is an Algonquin superior to a Huron, for instance?" The youngman, leaning idly back, and caressing the Indian dog of the chief, pursued his questions without any definite purpose, but merely to drawout his reserved-looking host. 

"Why is the fleet deer that spurns the soil better than the dull oxthat tills it? Or why is the eagle better than the hen that picks upcorn in your doorway? But there was a time when in all the land noIndian could be found who was tame and stupid--what you callcivilized. "

"Tell us a legend of that time, will you not?" pleaded Rose, who hadbeen watching in silence for a fitting opportunity to make herfavourite request. 

"Ah, please do, " said Edward, and the three settled themselvescomfortably to listen. 

"It was a great many moons ago, " began the chief, "long before thetime of my grandfather. All the Indian races were then as one people, living in peace, and speaking one tongue. Not one of them worked withhis hands. The deer, the beaver, the otter, the antelope, and the bearflourished and fattened for all, and were caught with scarcely anyskill or effort. The men were never wearied in the chase, nor thewomen with pounding corn. None of the white races had as yet come uponthe earth to molest and insult the guardian spirits of hill and streamand stately wood, and the red men, then as now, were in the habit ofpropitiating these deities by offerings of maize, bright colouredflowers, or belts of wampum laid upon the mountains, or dropped intocaves or streams. Yes, every one lived without fear of his neighbour, and the red ochre with which our tribes paint their faces in war wasused only to decorate the pipe of peace. 

"One day it happened that a few chosen ones of all these tribes weremet together upon a plain, about the distance of four bow-shots across. Very green and shining it looked to the eye, for it was in theFlower-moon, and the great star of day was bright in the heaven. Byits clear light they saw, far in the distance, two strange, enormousthings moving towards them. But whether these things were writhingwreaths of thunder clouds descended to earth, or gigantic treesdenuded of their foliage and suddenly gifted with the power of motion, or whether they were wild beasts of a size never seen before, theycould not tell. But presently they found them to be immense creaturesin the form of rattlesnakes, poisoning the air with their vileeffluvia, and destroying every green tree and living thing in theirpath. Every delicate plant and creeping thing was poisoned by theirbreath, and the larger animals were devoured in the flap of a bird'swing. With them came terrific lightnings that rent the trees and cleftthe solid rock, and thunders which caused the earth to reel like a manwho had drank many times of fire-water. Nearer and nearer theyapproached, and now the chosen residents of this fair plain werefilled with alarm for their lives, and at once began to buildfortifications against the terrible intruders. The snakes, whoappeared to prefer the flesh of man to that of the other animals, crawled up close to the defence of their enemies, and flung their longhorrible bodies against it, but in vain. It was useless to attack themwith bows and arrows, on account of the scales which enveloped themlike an armour. Those who ventured without the walls were instantlyswallowed, while those within, who had fasted many suns, were growingweak from want of food. 

"Now there was among them a chief, called the Big Bear, who was verybrave and cunning. He had been a hunter of the deer and wolf eversince he had been pronounced a man. No danger was so great that hecould not find a trail out of it. So when he began to speak all thepeople who remained gathered round him. 

"'Brothers and chiefs, ' he said, 'I perceive that one of our enemiesis a woman, because she is less sluggish in her movements than theother, and her eyes are bright and deceitful. Besides she cares not toeat all the time, but she will sometimes go to view herself in theriver, or when she thinks no one is looking will slyly turn her headto see the graceful movements of her tail. Brothers, my plan is this:Let me contrive to win the heart of this vain squaw-snake, and thenwith her aid I shall be able to destroy her husband; afterwards we maycompass the destruction of the faithless wife. If I perish it is in agood cause, I am a willing martyr. '

"This good man proceeded that very night to carry out his noblepurpose. The sky was full of shining lights as he mounted thefortification, and bent toward her, murmuring: 'Ah, beautiful creature, thy form is graceful as a winding stream, and thine eyes are two starsreflected in it. That stupid man-snake, lying in heavy sleep, how canhe appreciate you? He is withered and worthless as a last year's leaf. As for me I flee to you from the dull women of my tribe, who are likeso many dead trees, that stand even after life has left them. You arealive and beautiful in every movement, like the long curving wave thatbreaks upon the beach. '

"Oh, there is no doubt that Big Bear knew all about the best way tomake love, for very soon the squaw-snake began to show greatdiscontent with her husband, to scold him in a high voice, and to wishthat he were dead; whereas she greeted Big Bear with much affection, warming her glittering head in his breast, and embracing him severaltimes by coiling round and round him. But she was careful to turn herhead away, so as not to poison him by her breath. As for Big Bear, though he was glad to win her love, he wished her not to love him toowell as she had a wonderful dexterity in snapping off the heads ofthose whom she admired. Her consent to the death of her husband waseasily gained, and she bade him dip the points of two arrows in thepoison of her sting. This he did and after retiring within thefortification he levelled one arrow at the head of the husband, whilehe deposited the other in that of the wicked wife. The horrid monstersrolled over in agony, and rent the air with their death-shrieks, whileall the people gathering about Big Bear, called him their brother, because by his wonderful knowledge of the arts of flirtation he haddelivered them from great peril. But the most grievous result of thedanger through which they had passed was this, that the poison ejectedby the snakes in their death-agonies affected all the tribes of theearth to such an extent that each began to use a different languagewhich could not be comprehended by the others. Since that time a youngman of one race very seldom weds with the daughter of another, becauseshe does not understand the lies he tells. "

"Is it necessary for him to tell her what is not true, in order tomarry her?" asked Edward. 

"It is customary, " replied the chief, gravely returning to his task, without the suspicion of a smile. 

"Oh, strange peculiarity of the red men, " softly exclaimed Helene. Shebegged for another legend, but the Indian had relapsed into his normalstate of imperious dignity; so, after thanking him for the extravaganza, to which they had listened with admirable self-possession, theyreturned to the beach, the dog plunging joyfully into the green depthsof the forest before them. The great woods were warm, odorous, breathless. Rose pushed back the damp blonde locks from her brow. "Iwish you could have seen Wanda, " she said. "The girl is quite a beauty. Half wild, of course, but with a sort of barbaric splendour about herthat dazzles and bewilders one. You will understand when you see her, why the Indians speak the word 'pale-face' with a contemptuousinflection. "

"I suppose, " mused Edward, "that paleness to them means weakness, lackof blood, vitality, courage, and all that most becomes a man. Yet as amatter of taste I prefer white to copper colour. " His blue eyes werebent upon the lily-like face of Helene. 

"Wait till you see her, " was his sister's laughing response. 

"And that will be many moons hence, to use the language of ourstory-teller, if she continues as elusive as the wind. I have hadglimpses of her, or rather of the flutter of her vanishing raiment. A being with a wonderfully perfect face, clothed in heterogeneous andmany-coloured garments, and educated on the amazing fictions withwhich her foster-father's memory seems to be stored, would be worthwaiting to see. "

But he had not long to wait. As he stood on the beach in the absenceof his companions, who were carefully retracing their steps to thewigwam in search of a glove, presumably dropped by the way, he caughtsight of the Indian girl, her back turned towards him, lazily rockingherself in his boat. For a moment he thrilled with the excitement of ahunter in the presence of that desirable object, "a splendid shot. "Then he crept stealthily forward, sprang into the boat, and before thestartled girl could recover from her amazement, he was rowing her farout on the moonlit bay. "There!" he cried, exultantly, bending anardent yet laughing gaze upon her, "now you may run away as fast asyou like. "

The girl neither spoke nor moved. A great fire of resentment wasburning in her heart, and its flames mounted to her cheeks. "My soul!"he murmured, "how beautiful you are!" She faced him fully and fairly, with the magnificent disdain of an empress in exile. In some way shegave him the impression that this brilliant little escapade was rathera poor joke after all. "Do me the favour of moving a muscle, " hepleaded mockingly, and his request was lavishly granted. Before hecould guess her intention she was in the water, knocking an oar fromhis hand in her rapid exit, and swimming at an incredible rate ofspeed for the nearest point of land, from which she sped like a huntedthing to the woods. 

Left alone in this unceremonious fashion the young man paddledruefully after his missing oar, and then struck out boldly after theescaped captive, with the intention of apologizing for what now seemedto him rather a cowardly performance; but the footsteps of the flyingmaiden left no trace upon the beach. His discomfited gaze rested on noliving thing save the approaching figures of his sister and her friend, whose humane inquiries and frequent jests concerning the half wild, wholly dripping, vision that had crossed their path, contributed in noway to the young man's enjoyment of their homeward row. 

CHAPTER V. 

THE ALGONQUIN MAIDEN. 

Early on one of those matchless summer mornings, for he loved to adoptthe hours kept by the birds, Edward set forth alone on a voyage ofdiscovery. The wilds of his native land had a great and enduringfascination for him. He never ceased to enjoy the charm of a forest sodense that one might stay in it for days without the danger ofdiscovery. Wandering as he listed, hurrying or loitering as it pleasedhim, and resting when weary beneath the outstretched arms of theover-shadowing wood, he drank deeply of the simple joys of a free andcareless savage life. His whole nature became sensitive and receptive, like that of a poet, an absorbent of the beauty and music of earth andair. 

The long bright hours of this particular day were spent in exploringbayous and marshes, and in paddling among the ledges and around thelovely islands of Lake Couchiching. The dazzling blue expanse--mirrorof a sky as blue--was broadly edged with reeds and rushes, flags andwater-lilies, and framed by the thickly wooded shore and the greenstill cliffs that overhung the quiet waves. The air was laden with thesweet faint odours of early summer, and a soft breeze was lightlyblowing under skies as soft. The youthful voyager went ashore, and fora long time lay stretched on the sand with his gun watching forwild-fowl. 

The woods were brilliant with flowers, blue larkspur, scarlet lichens, the white and yellow and purple cyprepedium, or lady's slipper, calledby the Indians 'moccasin flower, ' the purple and scarlet iris, thebright pink blossom of the columbine, and all the other wind-blown andworld-forgotten flowerets of the forest. 

As the day grew warmer he betook himself for coolness to a quietleaf-screened nook, beneath a rudely sculptured cliff, mantled infoliage. Here he reclined after his midday lunch, gazing out upon asky so blue that it seemed a sea washing the invisible shores ofheaven, and dreaming of as many things as usually occupy the fancy ofa young man on an idle June day. But one event of which he did notdream was rapidly approaching. A wild bird more brilliant andbeautiful than any he had so patiently waited for with his gun waspreparing to fall at his feet. Just above his head the Algonquinmaiden, Wanda, who like himself had strayed far from home, wasreposing warm and wearied in utter unconsciousness of the proximity ofany human being. The shining waters of the lake beneath her gave her asudden charming inspiration. Springing up with the alertness of oneupon whom fatigue lies as lightly as dew upon the sward, she swiftlydisrobed, and remained a moment graceful as a young maple in autumn, standing in beautiful undress, its delicate limbs bare of leaves, andall its light raiment fallen in a many coloured heap to the ground. 

In the natural _abandon_ of the situation, Wanda neared the edge ofthe overhanging cliff, and sprang far out into the water. Edward, whowas still lounging under the rock, was startled by the flashingoutline--like a meteor from the heavens--of a human figure, which, inthe twinkling of an eye, had cleaved the smooth surface of the lake, sank far into its depths, and reappeared some distance off. Theglistening waters seemed to set in diamonds the beautifully shapedhead and neck of the Indian maiden as she disported herself in thecool lake, and made for a point of land where a winding pathway, covered to the water's edge by a profuse growth of young trees, led upto the cliff above. 

Recalling the classical story, familiar to his youth, and the judgmentof the gods--"Henceforth be blind for thine eyes have seen toomuch!"--the young man concealed himself from view from the lake andwaited for some time before venturing to regain the cliff overhead. 

The fear of not being able to overtake the Indian beauty preventedEdward from remaining a prisoner quite as long as his sense ofpropriety dictated. But his fear was justified. She had almost reachedthe vanishing point of his vision when he finally emerged from hisinvoluntary hiding-place. When at last he came up with her sheconfronted him with the wide innocent gaze of a child suddenlystartled in its play. Then the swift instinct of the savage, theuncontrollable desire to fly, took possession of her. But the youngman laid a light detaining hand upon her slim brown wrist. "Don'tleave me, " he entreated, "I want to ask you the way home. "

It was the only pretext he could invent on the spur of the moment, andit answered his purpose admirably. She stopped to view with undisguisedamazement, tempered with faint scorn, a human being who was so ignorantof the commonest affairs of life as to lose himself in the woods. Shenever dreamed of doubting his word. "I will be your guide, " she said, with grave friendliness. 

"You are very kind. I am afraid, " said the youth with well-feigneddiscouragement, "that we are a long way from home. "

"This is my home, " said Wanda, as they stepped into the shadow of thelimitless forest. "It is only white men who are content to live on alittle patch of ground and shut the sky away from them. The Indian isat home everywhere. "

"That is certainly an advantage, for when a person's home is spreadall over the continent he can never be lost. What should I have doneif I had not met you?"

She made no reply. Flitting before him like some gorgeous bird, he wasobliged to follow her at a pace that was anything but agreeable onthis hot afternoon. Presently she turned and came back. He was leaningagainst a tree, breathing heavily, and exhibiting every symptom ofextreme fatigue. 

"You are forcing me to lead a terribly fast life, " he declared. "Youhave no idea of how tired I am. "

She laid a smooth brown hand upon his heart. If it beat faster at thetouch it was not sufficiently rapid to cause alarm. "You are not tiredat all, " she declared with the air of a wise physician who is not tobe imposed upon, "besides there is need for haste. It is going torain. "

And indeed the intense heat of the summer afternoon threatened to findrelief in a thunder shower. The atmosphere suddenly cooled anddarkened. The strange, shrill, foreboding chirp of a bird was the onlysound heard in the forest, except the rushing of a new-risen hurryingwind in the tree-tops. Then came the loud patter of rain on the leavesoverhead, accompanied by a heavy crash of thunder. 

"The Great Spirit is angry, " murmured the young girl, her eyesdilating, and her breast heaving. 

"Well, experience teaches me that the best course to pursue whenpeople are angry is to keep perfectly still until the storm blowsover. It's no use talking back. Ah! don't do that, " he implored asshe stooped and kissed the ground. 

"But I must. It will propitiate the angry spirit and preserve us fromdanger. "

"Oh, how can you waste your sweetness on the desert earth, in thatfashion? It _may_ preserve us from danger, but it is likely to have acontrary effect on me. "

The temporary shelter afforded by the interlacing branches overheadwas now beaten down by the strength of the storm, which descended intorrents. "Ah! you are afraid, " he observed softly, drawing nearer toher. 

"It is for you, " she responded, "The rain is no more to me than it isto a red squirrel, but you, poor canary bird, your yellow head shouldbe safe in its own cage. "

This anxious, motherly tone brought a smile to the lips of the youngman. A sudden thought struck his guide. Grasping his hand she drew himswiftly along until they reached the hollow trunk of an immense oak, into which she hastily thrust him. "There is not room for both, " shedeclared, looking like a dripping naiad, as the rain-drops thickenedabout her. "Then there is not room for me, " responded Edward, whosesense of chivalry rebelled at the idea of looking from a place ofsecurity upon an unprotected woman, exposed to the fury of the storm. He drew her reluctant form beside him, but she was impatient and illat ease in her enforced shelter, as though she had been one of theuntamed things of the wood, caught and prisoned against its will. Outside the rain fell fast, while within crouched this beautifulcreature as remotely as possible from her human companion, and gazinglongingly forth upon the wild elements of whose life her own lifeseemed to form a vital part. Her pulse beat fast in sympathy with thefast beating rain. Her large liquid eyes were dark as woodland pools. She did not pay her companion the compliment of being embarrassed inthe slightest degree by his presence. Her only feeling was one ofphysical discomfort in her cramped position, and impatience with theman who could imagine that for her such protection was necessary. Itcrossed his mind that here was a veritable child of nature, untamed, untamable, not only in her habits and surroundings, her modes of lifeand thought, but in her very nature, in every fibre of her being, every emotion of her mind. Her superb unconsciousness chagrined andthen irritated him. A beautiful woman might as well be a beautifulstatue as to persist in behaving like one. A sudden rash desire tookpossession of the youth to test the quality of this superhumanindifference. The opportunity was tempting, the moment auspicious; hemight never be so near her again. He laid one hand upon her arm, andbent his fair head till it reached her shoulder. Then he bestowed alingering kiss upon the lovely curve of her cheek where it melted intoher neck. She turned her proud head slowly, and looked at him througheyes that deepened and glowed. 

"Wanda!" he breathed softly. 

For answer he received a stinging blow on the face. Nor was heconsoled by the spectacle of a wild girl darting from under theshelter of the tree, and vanishing from his sight. 

CHAPTER VI. 

CATECHISINGS. 

A June Sunday in the country, radiant, cloudless, odorous with thebreath of countless blossoms, thrilled with the melody of unnumberedvoices, was just beginning. The first blush of morning lay warm uponsky and lake--the splendour above perfectly matched by the splendourbelow, --as Rose Macleod opened her casement window fronting the east, and looked out upon the myriad tender tints, the new yet ever familiarharmonies of light and colour with which the world was clothed. Thegray walls of the Commodore's home on this side were hung withclimbing plants, and as his pretty daughter leaned out of her chamberwindow a dewy branch of roses, loosened from its fastening, struck hersoftly on the cheek. The touch gave her a thrill, delicately keen--apleasure, sharp as pain. No life was abroad yet except the birds, butthe morning-glories were all awake. She could see their wealth oftender bloom outspread upon the rugged heap of rocks, warm withsunshine, that separated between a corner of the flower-smothered turfand the dark shadow of the almost impenetrable woods. 

With her golden head drooped in drowsy meditation upon her folded armsshe would have made a picture for a painter, a picture rose-tinted androse-framed. But no painter was there to look upon her except the sun, and his ardent attentions becoming altogether too warm to be agreeablehe was incontinently shut outside. She turned away with that slightsense of intoxication that comes from gazing too long upon theinexpressible beauty of a world that is dimmed only by the complaintsand forebodings of querulous humanity. In the cool dimness of thepretty many-windowed room she stood a moment irresolutely, and thenwent in search of inspiration to a row of well-used books, over whichshe ran a pink reflective finger-tip. But nothing there responded toher need. It is a rare book that is worthy to hold the attention ofmaidenhood on a June morning. 

So, as further slumber was impossible, she presently slipped downstairs, and stepped out upon the broad veranda. Afterwards came theyounger children, Herbert and Eva, whose usually bright faces wereshadowed now with the consciousness that it was Sunday, a fact thatwas aggravated rather than palliated by the radiant perfection of theweather. The Commodore, who was the most sympathetic soul alive, would, if he could have followed his own unperverted instincts, havehad his children as happy on Sunday as on any other day, but it wasnecessary to make concessions to the Puritan spirit of the time, whichruled that a certain degree of discomfort and restraint should markthe first day of the week. But every dull look vanished as thefather's step was heard, for his was one of those genial, warm-hearted, caressing natures, which are calculated to dispel the chill of even anold-fashioned Sunday. There was also a hearty brusqueness in the toneof his voice, something of the sea in the swing of his gait, and evenin the movement of his full kindly gray eye, which could not fail toinspire confidence. His children flew to him at once, laying violenthands upon him, and clinging to his arms with decorously subduedshrieks of merriment, as he walked briskly to and fro. 

"Where's Edward?" he demanded of his eldest daughter, as theyapproached that young lady, who was pensively reclining in a rusticchair. 

"Not up yet, papa, " she dreamily responded, uplifting her face for hismorning salutation. 

"Not _awake_ yet, " corrected Herbert, with a boy's unmistakablecontempt for the luxurious habits of his elders. 

"Lazy dog!" commented the Commodore, in a voice whose irateness waswholly assumed. "If I had come down late to breakfast when I was youngI would have been sent back to bed again. "

"That is what Ed. Would like, " declared Herbert. "He said it was nouse calling Sunday a day of rest unless one could get all the rest onewanted, and it was hardly worth while for him to get up at all on aday when he couldn't fish or shoot or go out in his boat. "

"The young barbarian! After all the care and pains expended on hisbringing up. What shall we do about it, Rosy?"

"Call him again!" said Herbert, who, with the ever-fertile mind oftender youth, was never destitute of practical suggestions. 

"Bright boy! run at once and ring the bell just outside his door. " Asthe child departed to make the clangour, so much more delightful tohis own ears than to those for whom it was intended, Eva observed:

"But he came in so late last night, papa, and looked very tired. "

The Commodore patted the head of his little girl, but he continued todirect towards her elder sister a glance of half-humorous inquiry. Poor Rose knitted her pretty brows in troubled perplexity. She hadbeen informed in the "Advice to Young Women, " "Duties of Womanhood, "and other ethical works of the day, that a sister's influence isillimitable, and she felt besides an added weight of responsibilitytowards her motherless sister and brothers. "I don't know, papa, " shesaid at last, "unless we all take to the backwoods, live in a wigwam, and feast on the fruits of the chase. Edward chafes a good deal underthe restraints of civilized life. "

"Ah, here comes the prodigal son!" joyously exclaimed Eva, who ran tomeet her favourite brother, oblivious of the smiles produced by herunflatteringly inapt remark. 

"Don't kill any calf for me, " entreated Edward, thrusting his youngersister's straight yellow locks over her face, until it was hard to saywhere her features ended and the back of her head began. "I deserveit, but I don't like it. Veal is my detestation. "

"Upon my word, " said the old gentleman, looking very hard at adiscoloured spot just above the left eye of his eldest born, "it looksas though I had been trying to kill the prodigal instead of the calf. That's a bad bruise, my boy. "

"'Tis, sir, " responded Edward, in a tone which implied that meekassent was all that could be expected from him to a proposition sovery self-evident. He felt uncomfortably conscious that the eyes ofthe assembled family were upon him, and glanced half enviously at Eva, as though the ability to shake a sunny mane over one's face at willwas something to be thankful for. The breakfast bell roused them froma momentary silence, but the shadow of this mysterious bruise seemedto follow them even to the table. Herbert and Eva, aged respectivelyten and twelve, had that superabundant love of information socharacteristic of their tender years. They sat in round-eyed silence, bringing the battery of their glances to bear upon their unfortunatebrother, who at last could endure it no longer. 

"Upon my life!" he exclaimed, "one would think I was thegovernor-general, or some wild animal in a menagerie, to become theobject of so much concentrated and distinguished attention. "

"Which would you say he was, Eva?" asked Herbert. 

"Which what?" inquired that young lady. 

"Sir Peregrine Maitland, or a wild animal?"

"Oh, Sir Peregrine, of course. See what a lofty, scornful way he hasof looking at us. And yet he is not really proud; he is willing to sitdown with us at our humble board, just as though he was a commonperson. "

"Children!" said Rose with soft reproach, but her voice trembled, andthe imps were subjugated only outwardly. 

"Anything particular going on in Barrie?" queried the Commodore, turning to his eldest son. 

"Really, I can't say. I haven't been over in several days. "

"Oh, I imagined you were there last night. "

"I never go there at night, " protested the young man, with unnecessaryvehemence. It was clear to him now that his father and sister held avery low opinion of him indeed. Probably they thought he had been hurtin some vulgar tavern brawl, or drunken street fight. The idea wasloathsome to him. He had not a single low taste or trait of character. 

"I'm afraid, " said Herbert, shaking his head with mock regret, "thatyou are a very wild fellow. "

"He means that you are very fond of the wilds, " interpreted Rose, hurriedly endeavouring to avert the threatened domestic storm. "Eva, "she continued, taking up that irrepressible damsel before she couldgive utterance to the uncalled-for remark, which was but too evidentlyburning upon her lips, "do you know your catechism?"

"Yes, " replied her sister, in rather an aggrieved tone, for she didnot relish this change in the conversation, "I know it--to a certainextent. "

"Eva looks as though she would prefer to catechise Edward, " slylyinterpolated her father; and under this shameless encouragement theyoung lady boldly observed:

"Indeed, I should. I should like to begin right at the beginning with, 'Can you tell me, dear child, who made you'--have that big blackbruise on your brow?"

"I can, " responded Edward, imperturbably. "It was a beautiful littlebeast, not much bigger than you are, but a great deal prettier. "

"Was it, really?" Any offence that might have been taken at theuncomplimentary nature of the reply was swallowed up in eagercuriosity. "What was it?"

"Well, that I can't tell you. I never saw anything like it before. "

"That's queer, " said Herbert. "What colour was it?"

"Oh, black and brown and all the loveliest shades of scarlet--withcruel, little, white teeth, sharp and strong as a squirrel's teeth. "

"But it didn't bite you, " said Rose, with a puzzled glance at thewhite brow, whose delicate fairness made the discolouration moreconspicuous. 

"No, but it looked fully capable of biting--enchanting little brute!"

"Why on earth didn't you shoot it?" questioned the Commodore, rousinghimself to the exploration of this new mystery. 

The young man laughed a little guiltily. "To tell the truth the ideanever once entered my head. You have no idea what beautiful eyes ithad. "

"Oh--sentimentalist!"

"Yes, I was sentimental enough yesterday, but it will be long before Iam troubled that way again. "

"At any rate, " said Herbert, as they drifted back to the shadowingveranda, whose flowery screen the sun had not yet penetrated, "youcan't go to church. "

"I wish I could take you all over in my sail-boat, " said his elderbrother, wistfully surveying the blue waters of Kempenfeldt Bay. 

"Ed. , you are a heathen, " declared Miss Eva, whose usual adoringadvocacy of her brother's opinions was paralized by this assault uponthe proprieties; "it's wicked to ride in a boat on Sunday. "

"But it's perfectly right to ride in a carriage, " added Herbert, witha view to giving information, and not with any satirical intention. 

There was no reply. If it is a crime to possess a too greatsusceptibility to the ever-deepening charm of woods and waters thenEdward Macleod was the chief of sinners. In his father he had a secretsympathizer, for the old gentleman himself was not without strongleanings toward a free and careless, if not semi-savage, life. But nohint of this escaped him in the presence of the younger children, whose air of severe morality, born of renewed attacks and finaltriumph over the difficulties of the Sunday School lesson, heconsidered it unwise to disturb. 

Church service was not a painfully long or tedious affair. The littlewooden structure, erected for that purpose in Barrie, had the air oftrying to be in sweet accord with the outlying wilderness, from thedark green drapery of ivy which charitably strove to hide its rawnewness. The town itself (for in a new country everything in excess ofa post-office is called a town) was wrapped in Sabbath stillness. Thelittle church was well filled, for a bright Sunday in a countryvillage draws the inhabitants from their homes as infallibly as beesfrom their hives. Workers and drones they were all there, bowedtogether under the sense of a common need, and of faith in a commonHelper, which alone makes men free and equal. 

Like a light in a dark place gleamed the bright head of Rose Macleodin the farthest corner of the family pew. A vagrant sunbeam, like agolden arrow, pierced the gloom about her, but to the disappointmentof _one_ interested observer, it failed to reach the rich coils, sonearly resembling it in colour. This observer presently remindedhimself that he had come there to worship the divine, as revealed inholy writ, not in human beauty; nevertheless he could not forbearsending another stealthy glance, which, more accurately aimed than thesunbeam, rested fully and lingeringly upon the shadowy recess, where aglowing amber-golden head bloomed richly forth against the frigidback-ground of a bare wooden wall. The dainty little lady, envelopedin the antique richness of a stiff brocade, should have been madeaware by some mysteriously occult means of a strange thrill at theheart, caused by the protracted gaze of a handsome fellow-worshipper, but to tell the truth her thoughts were piously intent upon theenormity of her own sins, and the necessity of reclaiming her brotherfrom the very literal wildness of his ways. 

Service was over; the still air seemed vibrant with the notes of thelast hymn, and tender with the just-uttered words of the benediction, as this stately little damsel, with the peculiar air of distinctionwhich set so charmingly upon her doll-like personality, passed downthe aisle and out into the sunshine. She had looked on him--she hadbeen conscious of his existence; but it was seemingly in the same waythat she had noticed the wooden pews against which her rich littlerobe was trailing, and the floor which felt the pressure of her daintyfeet. Allan Dunlop standing among the outcoming worshippers, whosegreetings he mechanically responded to, silently anathematized thesoulless edict of society, which forbids a man to stand and gaze aftera vanishing vision in feminine form. The receding figure was notwholly unconscious, however, of the mute homage of which she had beenthe recipient. 

A few hours later this lovely possessor of all the graces and virtues, according to the newly-awakened imagination of her unknown admirer, reclined in her shell-pink apartment, in which the breezes blowingthrough the lattice sounded like the _andante_ of the sea, and sighedfor the forbidden fruit of a half-finished novel. But the sighperished with the breath that gave it birth. The next moment shesternly doubled a very diminutive fist, and demanded of herselfwhether that was the best use that could be made of her time andopportunities. Then she looked about for some missionary work. It wasnot far to seek, for the children, weary of purposeless drifting onthe still monotonous tide of Sunday afternoon, came battering at herdoor with united hands and voices, demanding a story. In the midst ofher recital she suddenly bethought herself of Edward and inquiredafter his whereabouts. 

"Roaming up and down the strawberry patch, " said Eva. 

"Seeking what he may devour, " added her brother, unconsciously givinga scriptural turn to his information. 

"For shame, Herbert!"

"Shame enough! He never offered me one. "

The subject of this discussion passed the open door shortly after andlooked rather forlornly in upon the interested trio. On his wayupstairs a casement window that stood ajar swung softly open as hepassed it, touched by the invisible fingers of the breeze; and theyoung man was not comforted by the picture suddenly revealed tohim--the picture of a slim shape in a light canoe darting bird-likeover the water. Rose felt a vague pang of pity, but had no opportunityto go to him. Her ministrations were in active demand by the youngerpair from whom she was unable to free herself until twilight fell, when they voluntarily resigned her to a need greater than their own. On many a summer night in years past they had seen their father andmother pace the winding length of the avenue together. Now, when thetender gloom of evening was beginning, and the solitary figure of theCommodore was seen going with drooped head toward his favourite walk, it was Rose who ran with eager step to take the vacant place at hisside. If his heart was saddened by that shadowy presence, which walksat eventide by the side of him who is bereaved, it could not be whollycast down so long as warm clinging hands were about his arm, a brightface looking up into his, and a clear voice, from which every note ofsadness was excluded, murmuring a thousand entertaining nothings inhis ear. 

If Rose was a never-failing fountain of alluring fiction to Herbertand Eva, and the comfort of life to her father, she was thesympathizing _confidante_ of her elder brother, who unburdened hisheart to her in a private interview just before retiring. 

"But what under the sun made you kiss her?" inquired this practicalyoung lady. 

"Oh, murder, Rose, what a question! What under the sun makes one tastea peach or pluck a flower?"

"But if the peach or the flower does not belong to you? Well, I'll notlecture you, Edward; you have sufficiently expiated your offence. "

"I never dreamed, " returned the delinquent, "that a kiss for a blow, which is the Christian's rule of morals, could be translated by thepoor savage into a blow for a kiss. "

"Probably you terrified her. That old chief has brought her up in thebelief that the white man is a compound of all the vices. "

"Well, she behaved as though I might be that. She never paused toconsider the ruin she had wrought, but darted off like a flash oflightning. "

Rose laughed; but after she departed the smile upon her brother's facequickly vanished. Not that the bruise on his brow was so severe, buthe found it impossible to forgive the blow to his vanity. 

"Beautiful little brute!" he muttered under his breath, "I haven'tdone with her yet. She'll live to give me something prettier than thisin return for my caresses. "

CHAPTER VII. 

AN ACCIDENT. 

Some days later, Edward, mounted on his favourite Black Bess, waitingfor Rose to accompany him in a morning gallop, was amazed to see thatventuresome young lady prepare to seat herself on Flip, a crazy littleanimal scarcely more than a colt, whose character for unsteadiness wasnotorious. 

"I have set my heart on him, " was all Rose could say in answer to herbrother's protestations. 

"Set your heart on him as much as you please, " returned Edward, "solong as you do not set your person on him. "

"In England, " ventured, the respectful Tredway, "young ladiesgenerally prefer a more trustworthy animal. "

"Well, when we go to England, " responded Rose, casting her arms aroundthe neck of her slandered steed, "we'll do as the English do--won't weFlip, dear? In this country we'll have just a little of our own wildway. "

From this decision there was no appeal. The words were scarcely spokenwhen there was a swift scamper of heels, a smothered sound, halfshriek, half laughter, from Rose's lips, a cloud of dust, and that wasall. Edward's alarm was changed to amusement as the pony, after itsfirst wild flight, settled down into a sort of dancing step, ambling, pirouetting, curvetting, sidling, arching its wilful neck at onemoment, and rushing off at a rate that bade fair to break its rider'sat the next. 

By fits and starts--a great many of them--they managed to make theirway to "Bellevue, " where the lovely Helene, arrayed in the alluringcoolness of a white _neglige_, and with her braided locks drooping toher waist, came down the walk to meet them. 

"Rose Macleod!" she exclaimed, for Black Bess was still far in therear, and she imagined her friend unaccompanied, "and on thatdesperately dangerous little Flip!"

"The very same, " responded Rose saucily, "but I don't know how long Imay remain on him. We want you to join us in a glorious old gallop. "

"Good morning, Mademoiselle, " exclaimed Edward, reining in his blacksteed. "I hope Madame DeBerczy is better than usual, as I have somethoughts of leaving my wild sister with her. She's every bit asunmanageable as Flip. "

"Leave me, indeed, " retorted Rose, "as though I could trust you alonein the woods--with a pretty girl. "

The last words were inaudible, save to Helene, between whom and Rosethere passed a subtle glance which gave Edward a vague alarm. Could itbe that Helene had received intelligence of his encounter with Wanda?No, it was clearly impossible. There was nothing of mocking in herlook--nothing but the pretty consciousness of a girl who could notforget that her shoulders and arms were gleaming beneath the mist of amuslin altogether too thin, and a weight of loosened braids altogethertoo thick, to be proper subjects for a young man's contemplation. 

She presently vanished within, and reappeared before they had time tobe impatient. In her close-clinging habit, with her black braidssecurely pinned, a handful of lilies drooping at her waist, and thewhole of her fair young figure invested with a sort of statelymaidenliness, she formed a sufficient contrast to Rose, who, percheddefiantly upon her wicked little steed, looked every inch a rogue. Mademoiselle DeBerczy's white horse was slim and graceful as becameits owner, who glanced with lady-like apprehension at the dashings andplungings and other dog-like vagaries of Flip. "Dear me, Rose, " she atlast remarked rather nervously, "I can't bear to look at you. "

"Then don't look at me!" exclaimed the wild girl, "go on with Edward;Flip and I are going to make a morning of it. "

The young man nothing loth drew in Black Bess beside the milk-whitepalfrey, and began to comment upon the beauty of the morning, of thewoods through which they were passing, and, lastly, of an Indianchild, who, straying away from a settlement of wigwams, perched itselfupon a stump, and surveyed the cavalcade with round-eyed interest. 

"The loveliest Indian girl I ever saw, " remarked Helene, "is Wanda, the Algonquin chief's adopted daughter. But this is no news to you, asI hear that you were quite forcibly struck by her. "

Oh, the ambiguities of the English language! There was not a quiver ofan eye-lash, not the slightest curl of the scarlet lips, and the widedark eyes were seemingly free from guile; but, nevertheless, Edwardsuffered again that vague alarm which had sprung into being at thegate of "Bellevue. "

"I think her very pretty, certainly, " he returned, "but I can't saythat I admire her. "

"I am surprised at that. Rose told me that she made quite animpression upon you. "

Ought this to be taken literally? The lily-white face was no tell-tale. Could one so fair be so deceitful? This matter must be further probed. 

"The impression was not altogether a pleasant one, " he confessed witha rising flush. 

"Not pleasant? You are very hard to please. She is not only remarkablyhandsome but she has a vigorous personality--a sort of native forcethat is sure to make its mark. "

"I fear I am not an admirer of force--that is in a woman. "

"I am sure you have no reason to be. It is possible that even thebeautiful Wanda might not be above browbeating a man. "

"Oh, she might do worse than that, " said Edward, with the coolnessborn of desperation. "She might sink so low as to basely persecute himwith her knowledge of a secret extracted from his sister. Don't youthink that would be treating him very contemptibly. "

"It would depend altogether upon what sort of treatment he deserved. "

"It occurs to me that the unfortunate creature we have in mind hassuffered enough. "

It was evident that Helene thought so too. She said nothing, but thesweet eyes that had refrained from mocking at him could not hide atinge of remorse. This pledge of peace was quickly noted by themuch-enduring youth, whose gratitude might have found vocal expressionhad not his attention that moment been called off by an approachingpedestrian, who suddenly appeared at a curve in the Penetanguisheneroad, which, after partly retracing their steps, they had now reached. 

"What, Dunlop, as I live!" he exclaimed, eagerly reining in his steed, and extending a cordial hand. "My dear fellow, how long have you beenat home, and why have I been left in ignorance of your coming?"

The young man who had paid Helene the doubtful tribute of adisappointed glance, returned the greeting warmly, but in moremeasured terms. "I was at church on Sunday, " he said, "for the firsttime since my return home. Why weren't you there?"

"Ugh!" said Edward, as though the recollection had been an iciclesuddenly thrust down his back. "Why, to tell the truth, I performed anact of worship on the day before, and the consequence was so frightfulthat I was discouraged from further attempts at prayer and praise. Ihadn't the heart to go. "

"You hadn't the _face_ to go!" softly corrected Helene. 

"Exactly. Your knowledge of the facts is copious and profound. Excuseme! Miss DeBerczy, let me present to you Mr. Allan Dunlop, Provincialland-surveyor, member for the Home District, future leader inparliament, and a man after my own heart!"

The stranger looked as though a less elaborate introduction might havepleased him better. "Edward you are as extravagant as ever, " heexclaimed, and then, turning to the lady, with a sort of shy sincerity, "Don't believe him, Miss DeBerczy. I am studying politics andpracticing surveying, but that is all. "

"And you mean to say that you are not a man after my own heart, "demanded Edward, threatening him with his riding-whip; "then, perhaps, you will be good enough to tell me whose heart you _are_ after. "

An embarrassed laugh broke from Allan's lips, as he thoughtinvoluntarily of the queenly little creature, golden crowned andrichly robed, whose reign had begun, so far as he knew, on the Sundayprevious. Oddly enough, the same personage came at that moment toHelene's mind, and she hurriedly inquired, "Why, where can Rose be?"

"Here she comes, " said Edward, after a backward glance, and hereindeed she came. With her bright hair flying in the breeze, her ridinghat rakishly askew, one glove invisible, and the other tucked for safekeeping under the saddle, her riding-habit gray with dust, andfantastically trimmed with thorns and nettles, her blue eyes at theirbluest, her pink cheeks at their rosiest, she produced a very powerfuleffect upon the minds of her spectators. Perhaps it would not be toomuch to say that she produced three distinct effects upon their minds. 

Helene was the first to recover the faculty of speech. "Why, you are aregular little brier rose!" she exclaimed laughingly, wheeling herhorse about so as to remove what appeared to be the larger part of ablackberry bush from her friend's habit, and improving the opportunityto insert a pin in the ragged edges of a dreadful looking rent, whichthe premature removal of the blackberry bush had revealed. 

Edward introduced his friend to Rose with a gravity which was tooevidently born of the belief that she had never before presented quiteso disreputable an appearance. Allan knew his goddess under thisquaint disguise, and his heart beat a loud recognition. The coolgraceful black and white propriety of Helene DeBerczy was barren ofsignificance compared with the slightest strand of yellow wilful hairthat blew about the pink-shamed face of his friend's sister. 

With renewed expressions of good-feeling and the promise, by Allan, ofan early visit to Pine Towers, the young men separated, the ridingparty moving off in the same order as before, Helene and Edward goingfirst, leaving Rose and Flip to follow at their own discretion. 

But the latter, who had exhausted every known device for his ownamusement, now suddenly discovered and put into instant executionanother way to annoy his pretty mistress. This was to stand perfectlystill--inexorably, indomitably, immovably still. In vain Rose whipped, begged, prayed, and almost wept. But Flip was thereby only strengthenedin his decision. Rose's companions had vanished around the bend in theroad. Though lost to sight they were to memory obnoxious. How mean ofEdward to go off in that cool, careless way, without a thought of herleft behind! How contemptible of Helene to leave her without so muchas a hair-pin to repair the ravages made by that horrible little horse. And now, worse and worse, Allan Dunlop, who might have had thegentlemanliness to make himself invisible as soon as possible, camehurrying back to be a further witness of her dishevelled embarrassment. 

"I am afraid your horse is a little fractious, " he suggestedrespectfully. 

"Oh, no, " replied Rose, earnestly, scarcely conscious of what shesaid. "Only--sometimes--he won't go. "

This was a statement which Flip seemed in no wise disposed tocontradict. 

"Perhaps if you will allow me to pet him a little, we may induce achange in his behaviour. " He drew near and laid his head upon thepony's mane, accidentally brushing with his moustache the warm littlehand upon the reins. Its owner drew it away, while an expression ofabsolute pain crossed her face. "I don't know what you can think ofme, " she said contritely. "I lost one of my gloves in reaching for abranch above my head, and its no use wearing the other and trying tobe half respectable. " She was miserably conscious that she was noteven that, as she tried to fasten up her loosely waving locks, andthought of the awful rent in her habit, through which that saving pinhad slipped and been lost sight of forever, like a weary littlemissionary in a very large field of labour. The skirt beneath wasdeplorably short, and her feet, though small, were not small enough tobe invisible. Her chivalrous attendant seemed quite unconscious ofthese glaring deficiencies in her appearance, as he looked up with abright smile, and said: "There, I think he will go now. " At the wordFlip began a slow undulating movement, something akin to that producedby a rocking-horse, which while it "goes" fast enough makes noperceptible progress. Poor Rose, excited and unstrung by her morning'sadventures, dropped the reins in disgust, and then with one handclutching her skirt, and the other her hair, she resigned herself to afit of uncontrollable laughter. The next moment the wilful horse madea wild plunge forward, and the wilful girl was flung with terribleforce against a heap of stones on the roadside. Colourless, motionless, breathless, she lay at the feet of Allan Dunlop, whose heart turnedsick as he discerned among the yellow locks outspread on the graystones a slender stream of blood. 

For a moment the young man stood horror-struck. Fortunately he was notfar from home, and there he proceeded at once to take the almostlifeless girl. As he was about to lift her gently in his arms, a lowmoan escaped her lips, the significance of which he was not slow tocatch. Unable to speak, almost unable to move, she made a slightwrithing motion of the limbs, accompanied by a convulsive twitch atthe torn gown. Allan Dunlop was not dull-witted enough to suppose thather ankle was sprained. His sensibilities and sympathies wereexquisitely quick and fine. Catching up an end of the unfortunateriding-habit he twisted it closely about the helplessly exposed littlefeet--an act of delicacy which received a faint glance of gratefulrecognition before she lapsed into utter unconsciousness. Gatheringher into his arms he carried her as he might have carried a child tothe shelter of his own house. But here a fresh dilemma presenteditself. Not a soul was in the house. His father had not yet returnedfrom market, his mother and the servant were absent, he knew notwhere. Placing her on a couch he bathed with awkwardly gentle fingersthe wound in her head, and dared even to wipe away a few drops ofblood from the little pallid face. Still the white lids lay motionlessover the blue eyes, and the girlish form was unmoved by a breath. Hestood anxiously looking down at her, wondering what his mother woulddo in his place, and feeling in every fibre a man's naturalhelplessness in the presence of a suffering woman. "What can I do foryou?" he asked, as she at last opened her eyes, and gazedhalf-frightened at her strange surroundings. 

"Thank you, I believe I am quite comfortable, except--except for thedreadful pain. I feel so terribly shaken. " And the poor child brokeinto uncontrollable sobs. 

"Oh, don't cry!" begged Allan, who might with equal truth have claimedthat he too felt terribly shaken. "I can't imagine where my mother hasgone. " He stared miserably out of the window a moment, and thenreturned to his patient, with the air of a man who is not going toshirk a duty, no matter how difficult it may be. 

"If you could dry your eyes, " he began with a sort of brotherlygentleness, "and tell"--

"I'm afraid I can't. I don't dare move my right hand from under me, the pain is so acute in my back, and there is something dreadfullywrong with my left arm. "

Dreadfully wrong indeed! It hung limp and broken. The young man wasspurred by the sight to instant, decisive action. 

"Miss Macleod, " he said, "I will have to leave you alone, and go atonce for a physician and your father. Do you think you can be verybrave?"

Her tears flowed afresh at the question. This time he wiped them awayhimself. "Oh, I'm afraid I couldn't be that, " she said. "I nevercould. But I'll promise not to run away before you come back. "

She _is_ a brave little soul after all, he thought, as he waved hishand, and hurried off to the stable; but that is a woman's courage--cryone moment and make a joke the next. 

Mrs. Dunlop, who was not as far distant from home as her son hadsupposed, entered the house a few minutes after his departure, followed by the servant, both bearing great baskets of raspberries. The two women were sufficiently astonished at sight of the unexpectedand most unfortunate guest; but Allan's mother would scarcely allowRose to pronounce a word of her penitent confession. It was enough forher to know that here was an opportunity for her to relieve suffering, and she improved it with characteristic tact and delicacy. Theopen-eyed and open-mouthed maid was sent on various small missions ofmercy, which she attacked with zeal, in the hope that thereby in someway her abounding thirst for information might be assuaged. 

Very soon after, the quiet farm-house became the rendezvous of anunusual number of strangers. Helene and Edward, who had returned tosee if Allan could tell them anything concerning the whereabouts ofthe missing girl, came first. Helene, full of grief and contritionbecause she had not remained by the side of Rose through the entirelength of her perilous undertaking, and Edward, whose brotherlysympathy was tinged by the magnanimous consciousness that nothingwould tempt him to remind her that he had warned her of the evil whichhad resulted in her downfall. Afterwards came the physician who setthe broken arm, and forbade the patient's removal, and then theCommodore, in whose brawny neck his daughter hid a wet, pitiful face. 

"It was my fault, Papa, " she whispered, "and it's a miracle I'm notbroken up into more pieces than I am. I deserve to be. I'm as full ofpenitence as I am of pain. But don't you be troubled about me. Mrs. Dunlop is as good and kind as it is possible to be. I am sure they arevery nice people. "

Very nice people perhaps, but very little to the Commodore's taste. Ashe turned to greet the man, upon whose hospitality his daughter hadbeen so literally and unexpectedly thrown, he was scarcely his frank, genial, outspoken self. There was a secret root of prejudice againstthis unpretending farmer, whose son's political views were as far fromhis own as the east is from the west, and whose social position wasdecidedly inferior. Not that the kindly Commodore was gifted with thatmicroscopic eye which is too easily impressed by the infinitesimalgradations of society, but he retained too much of the Old Worldfeeling for class distinctions to make him oblivious to the differencein their rank. 

"Good heavens! Edward, " he exclaimed, in a conversation with his son afew days after the accident, "what uncommonly low ground our littleRose has been suddenly transplanted to. That old farmer looks as stiffand straight as one of his own furrows, and his son, what's-his-name?is of the same mould. "

"It's remarkably rich mould, Father. Not such low ground as one mightthink. "

"Rich! What, in dollars and cents?"

"No; better than that. In knowledge and sense. Allan Dunlop is a verybright fellow. "

"Oh! I _thought_ the paternal acres could scarcely afford a sufficientyield of potatoes and parsnips to furnish material wealth. As for thesense you speak of, I hope your friend possesses enough to keep himfrom making love to your sister. "

"He is far too proud to make love to one whom he considers his socialsuperior, though she might do worse than permit it. "

"Oh, dear yes; she might have been thrown into a settlement ofsavages, and wedded to the first wild Indian that ran to pick her up. "

Edward's cheek reddened perceptibly. 

"Or she might marry a snob, " he said. 

"Come, Edward, " returned the Commodore, with a breezy laugh, "you mustnot insinuate that your old father is such a disagreeable sort ofperson. But, seriously, you don't consider Allan Dunlop your equal, doyou?"

"No, " said Edward, "I don't think him my equal. "

"That's the sensible way to look at it. Not but that he is as good andnecessary in his way as the earth he tills and the vegetables hesells. "

"Oh, it is the father--who, by the way, is an old soldier--that tillsand sells. The son, as you know, is a young rising politician--aradical. "

"I am only too well aware of that, but why couldn't he stick to theplough? Its the unluckiest business imaginable, Edward, that we shouldhave played into their hands in this way. They are the last sort ofpeople to whom one cares to be under a personal obligation. "

Edward had no balm to apply to his father's irritation. "When I saythat I don't consider Allan my equal, " he explained, "I mean that Ifancy him my superior. "

His father laughed aloud. "You seem to have a good many fancies, " hesaid, tolerantly, and continued to smoke in meditative silence. 

And still among the people of whom her father and brother held suchentirely opposite opinions lay the helpless Rose, victim of a slowfever, which left her, as Helene pityingly said, weak as a roseleaf. But Helene seldom saw her now. Edward and his father were also all butbanished from her bedside. "Really, " said Dr. Ardagh to the Commodore, "I must insist upon absolute quiet as the first requisite for mypatient's recovery. Those daily visits are exciting and harmful. Mrs. Dunlop has a perfect genius for sick-nursing, and you can safely leaveyour daughter to her. She is really a remarkable woman!"

The Commodore made a wry face. "Not long ago Edward would have mebelieve that the Dunlops, father and son, were endowed with uncommonmental power. Now it appears that the mother is similarly gifted. Mypoor child hasn't brains enough to keep her from riding an unsafecolt, but it is to be hoped she knows enough to appreciate theadvantages of her situation. "

The doctor raised his eyebrows at this peculiar pleasantry, butmanaged to harrow his listener's heart by intimating that it would bea confoundedly strange thing if young Dunlop did not appreciate _his_advantages. 

CHAPTER VIII. 

CONVALESCENCE. 

To be slowly recovering from a severe illness is almost like beingagain a very little child. So thought Rose Macleod, as she lay betweenlavender-scented sheets, in the quaint stone cottage, whose deepold-fashioned window seats, and low whitewashed ceilings, werebecoming as familiar to her as the stately halls of her home. Theprotracted leisure of convalescence was growing burdensome to her. Somany days had she watched the lights and shadows woven throughout thegreenery, just outside her window, or listened to the weird measure ofthe rain when the wind surged like a sea through the foliage, or heldher breath for joy when a flying bird pulsed vividly across the sky, or counted the milk-white flowers of the locust tree, as they strewedthe ground with blossoms, or noted the exact moment when themorning-glories softly clasped their purple petals together, as thoughunable to contain a greater fulness of joy than was brought by thesummer morning. It was now early evening, and Rose gave vent to alittle uncontrollable sigh. Mrs. Dunlop came as quickly to the bedsideas though the sigh had been the sound of a trumpet. She was a verypleasant object for weary invalid eyes to rest upon. Her dark hair wassatin-smooth, her voice and movements were quiet and refined. Therewas in her face that mingling of shyness and sincerity, irradiated bya look of the keenest intelligence, which reminded Rose of Allan, between whom and his mother there was a strong resemblance. 

"I have something to tell you, " she said gently. "As my prisoner youhave behaved in such an exemplary manner, keeping all the rules of theinstitution, and making no attempt to run away, that I have decided togive you the freedom of another room. "

"Oh, am I to go into another room?" Had a voyage to Europe beenproposed to her it could scarcely have suggested pleasanter ideas ofchange. "A new wall-paper, and a new window! What more could I askfor? But how am I to get there? What means of transportation haveyou?"

"That is just what I am thinking of. I could dress you in my graywrapper, and then--would you mind if Allan were to help me to lift youto the couch in my room?"

Rose shuddered a little. A faint pink stained for a moment thewhiteness of her cheek. "I shouldn't mind it if I were senseless, " shesaid, "but I don't want him to think I have lost my senses again. No, we'll have to give up that idea. "

But Mrs. Dunlop was not the sort of person to give up an idea withoutgood cause. "The mountain must then go to Mahomet, " said she, andwheeling the couch close to the sick-bed, she arranged the invalidcosily among the cushions, and pushed her slowly into her ownapartment. "If I were twice as large as you are, " she added, "insteadof being just your size, I should have carried you in half the time. "

But another and more serious consequence followed that same eveningupon the striking similarity in figure between Mrs. Dunlop and MissMacleod. Golden twilight had changed to dim dusk, but Rose still laywith her fair head almost buried among the cushions. She expected avisit from her father that evening, and the temptation to show himwhat she could do and dare was irresistible. All her hostess's hintsthat bed-time had arrived were wasted upon deaf ears. At last, in alittle anxiety as to the result of her experiment, if the Commodoredid not arrive, Mrs. Dunlop went out to the front gate to see if therewere signs of his approach. At the same moment Allan entered the houseby the back door, and looked about for his mother. Impelled by a"fatalistic necessity" he went up to her room, the sound of hiscarefully modulated tread upon the stairway filling the heart of Rosewith delight, for was not that her own father, who had probably beeninformed at the gate of the change in her condition and surroundings, and who was coming up so softly in order to surprise her. Allan, meanwhile, glancing in, saw nothing in the gray gloom but a smallfigure in a well-known wrapper, stretched wearily upon the couch. "Poor little mother, " he thought. "She is quite tired out. " He went upto her intending to bestow a filial caress upon her cheek, but beforehis design could be accomplished he was drawn close by a single armaround his neck, and repeatedly kissed. "You blessed darling!" shesoftly exclaimed, "here I've been waiting for you, and _waiting_ foryou and longing--_Oh_!" That silky moustache and that chin, that was_not_ stubby, could they belong to a gentleman of sixty years? Herright arm fell limp and useless as the other. "I thought you were myfather, " she said in a weak voice of mingled disappointment, anger andshame. 

"And I thought you were my mother, " was all the guilty wretch couldoffer in extenuation of his conduct. 

The people whose parts this unfortunate pair had been playing withsuch ill success were now heard at the door below. Allan felt like acriminal as he stole into the hall, and thence into his own room; butthe Commodore could scarcely understand the propriety of a strange andotherwise objectionable young man holding a moonless _tete-a-tete_with his daughter. In any case his presence would involve disagreeableexplanations. If her cheeks were as flushed as his own no doubt herdoting parent would ascribe it to renewed health and strength. 

But the young man, sitting alone in the perfumed darkness of thatsummer night, with his hot head fallen upon the window-sill, did notimagine that the fire that burned along his own veins was anindication of health. On the contrary, he feared it the symptom of adreaded disease--the fever and delirium of love. What was that littleyellow-haired girl to him? Nothing! nothing! Yet her kisses burnedupon his lips, and every drop of blood in his body seemed tocontradict his nonchalant nothing with a passionate everything! Yes, she was in truth the lamp of his life, but in that radiant light howpitiful his life appeared. How pitiful, and yet how beautiful, for inthe tender illumination of her imagined love rough places becamesmooth, dark ways bright, and the heights of possible achievement werefaintly flushed with all the delicate tints of dawn--the dawn of adiviner day than any he had yet looked upon. When he went to sleep itwas to dream of walking in a wilderness of roses. Pale and drooping, broken and dying, red and roguish, blushing, wanton, wild and warm, each bore some fantastic resemblance to Rose Macleod, and each was setabout with "little wilful thorns. " The hand which he eagerlyoutstretched to pluck the loveliest rose of all was pierced andbleeding. Still he did not despair of reaching it. But as his longingeyes drew nearer and nearer the stately little beauty turned suddenlya deep blood-red, and then he saw that the crimson drops falling fromhis own wounds had worked this transformation. He hid her in hisbosom, and held her there. But the closer she was pressed the richerand more fragrant was the breath she exhaled, intoxicating all hissenses, and the farther into his heart went the cruel thorns, until inmingled pain and rapture he awoke. 

This Allan Dunlop, though born and bred on a farm, had in him thespring of a higher and finer life. He was a man of delicate instincts, refined feelings, and great native sensibility, inherited from hismother, at whose history we may take a rapid backward glance. 

Far away in one of the stately homes of "Merrie England, " when theeighteenth century was old, a gentlewoman, young, charming, and fullof an habitually repressed life and gaiety, waited for her cavalier, the youthful riding-master who had little to recommend himself to hergracious kindness save that deep but indefinable charm which ahandsome man on a spirited charger is so prone to exert on thefeminine imagination. The morning was fair, the lady was fairer, andthe heart of her gallant attendant beat faster than the feet of hissteed, as the flying skirt of her robe swept his stirrup, and the softlength of her mist-like veil blew before his eyes and caressed hisbrown cheek. It was not the only mist that blew before his eyes norbefore her's either, poor child! for the rival contrast between thiswild rush over hedge and ditch and bright green meadow and the stifflyguarded walks and ways of home had spurred her imagination also into agallop. "We will never come back, " he said jestingly, "we will rideaway into a world of our own!" but there was something reckless in hislaugh and a formidable note of earnestness in his jesting. He neverdreamed that her pulse beat quicker after his careless speeches, andhe was in truth a good deal in awe of her, for the buckram proprietywhich had encased her like a garment ever since she could remember wasnot easily thrown aside. This young pair, though as deeply in lovewith each other as it is possible for man and maid to be, had neveracknowledged the fact by a syllable. Anna Sherwood was too shy andprim; Richard Dunlop too poor and proud. He had been a trooper in acavalry regiment, afterwards riding-master in a garrison town inEngland, and since his coming to Canada, and before taking to farming, he held the position of fort-adjutant at Penetanguishene; at presenthe was tutor in equestrian arts to the young lady whom he passionatelyloved. Of her there is little to tell except that until this dashingyoung fellow crossed her path she had experienced about as much changeand variety in her life as though she had been a plant grown in aflower-pot. On sunny days she was allowed the outside air; on stormydays she was kept within. She toiled not, neither did she spin. Nothing was required of her except colourless acquiescence in a lifeof torpid, unnatural, unendurable _ennui_. 

The young lady's only guardian was a wealthy maiden aunt, who was asrich as she was old maidish--a statement likely to thrill the heart ofany mammon-worshipper among her acquaintance--and whose special pridewas the exemplary manner in which she had brought up her brother'schild. The daring young fellow who had presumed to fall in love withthis model niece followed her uninvited into the family sitting-roomon returning from their ride, a proceeding which rather alarmed thegentle Anna, though her much dreaded relative was absent. He did notsit down, but took a decisive stand on the hearth-rug. He looked likea man who has something he must say, though the saying of it will allbut cost him his life. She sat down with a strange foreboding at herheart of something terrible to come. The austere influences of heraunt's home were upon her. She sat in prim composure, pale handsclasped, and pale lids drooping upon cheeks that had lost everyparticle of the warmth and glow gained by exercise. "Miss Sherwood, "he began, "there is something I have been longing to say to you forweeks past, and though it is a perfectly useless, almost impertinentthing to say, still I cannot leave it burning in my heart any longer. It is that you are dearer to me than any woman on earth--and alwayswill be. " His voice broke a little, but he went bravely on. "You neednot think that I shall annoy you with frequent repetitions of thisfact, or that I expect to gain anything by the statement of it. I knowthat you are proud and self-sufficing, and, " a little bitterly, "thatI can never be anything more to you than the dust thrown up by yourhorse's heels--a necessary evil. I don't know why I should tell youthis, except that I cannot suffer in silence any longer. I am going toleave you now--to leave you forever. Won't you say good-bye? Is therenothing you will say to me, little Nan?"

In spite of himself his voice had sunk to a tone of caressingtenderness. The pale proud girl had listened to him without moving afibre or lifting an eyelash. But now there came a great flow of bloodto her face, a swift rush of tears to her eyes. 

"Nothing, " she said, "except"--

She wrung her hands: pride dies very hard. 

"Except that I love you, Dick!"

His eyes blazed. "Then, by Heaven, " he cried, "we shall never part. "He caught her to his breast and held her there a moment withoutspeaking. He was too dazed to speak. The scene was dramatic; and MissMaria Sherwood, who entered the room at that moment, did not approveof the drama. She held that it was sensational in conduct, scurrilousin character, scandalous in its consequences; and it is highlyprobable that from this brief glimpse of it she saw no reason tochange her opinions. Act second, as may be imagined, was stormy andexciting, gaining in interest as it progressed, and the last scene inthese private theatricals saw the hero and heroine shipped off toCanada--that better country, where the lives and loves of those towhom fate has been cruel are graciously spared, under conditionsadverse enough but still endurable. 

That life and love can continue to exist beneath bleak foreign skies, when grim Poverty howls wolf-like at the door, and the winds ofseemingly year-long winters are scarcely less fierce, was theproposition these courageous young people set themselves to prove. Noday dawned so dark that was not illumined for him by the repetition ofthat shamelessly unmaidenly speech, "I love you, Dick. " As for her, she never ceased to smile at the blindness of a man who could imaginethat luxurious imprisonment for life without him could be morealluring than the greatest hardships endured in the perpetual sunshineof his love. 

Of this pair, whose romance had outlasted the sordid cares andtrials of life in the backwoods, Allan Dunlop, with his exquisitesusceptibilities, and ambitious aims, was the honest fruit. He was notvisible to Rose for some days after their emotional and whollyinvoluntary encounter in his mother's room, and then he brought her agreat handful of her fragrant namesakes. She had been promoted forhalf-an-hour to a huge well-cushioned chair, in which she reclinedrather languidly. The roses formed a pretext for a little desultoryconversation, and then Allan, noticing the invalid's little ears wereturning pink, presumably at the recollection of their last meeting, could not forbear saying:

"I feel that I ought to beg your pardon, Miss Macleod, for the way Itreated you the other evening. It was a brutal assault, though whollyunintentional. "

Poor Rose, who remembered that it was she who made the assault, expressed the belief that she would rather it were forgotten thanforgiven. 

"I'm afraid I can't forget it. Some things make too deep an impression. Of course, " he added, in his embarrassment, "it was the last thing Ishould have wished to do. "

"Of course!" echoed the miserable girl, wondering if he meant what hesaid. 

"Allan, " said his mother, entering the room at that moment, "what areyou saying to distress my patient? I don't like the look of thesefeverish cheeks. "

"I fear I have committed the unpardonable sin, as Miss Rose refuses topardon it. "

Mrs. Dunlop, who was in absolute ignorance of the subject ofconversation, looked smilingly from one to the other. 

"Promise her that the offence will never be repeated, Allan, " shesaid, "and then it may receive forgiveness. "

The young man coloured scarlet. "The conditions are too hard, " hemurmured. "I think, on the whole, I should prefer to go unforgiven. "And he hastily rose and left the room. 

But if Rose Macleod was not free from afflictions of a sentimentalnature, her brother Edward was even less so. This young man sorelymissed the girlish society which his sister in happier days hadconstantly drawn about her. One afternoon, when time hung particularlyheavy on his hands, he decided to go over to "Bellevue, " ostensibly togive Madame DeBerczy the latest information concerning Rose, butreally to solace his soul with a sight of the beautiful Helene. On hisway over he chanced to overtake the Algonquin girl, Wanda, whom heproceeded to upbraid in no measured terms for the way in which she hadtreated him. 

"Ah, don't!" she cried at last, covering her ears with her hands, "your words are like hailstones, sharp and cruel and cold. "

"Then will you not say that you are sorry?" he pleaded, bending hisfair head once more perilously near to the soft, brown neck. 

"Sorry that you deserved the blow? yes; certainly!"

"Wanda, " cried Edward, an irrepressible smile breaking through hisassumed anger, "you are a witch, and a wicked witch, too. It is likeyour race to be cruel and merciless, indifferent to the pain youinflict, and--"

"No, no, " retorted the girl, indignantly, "it is not true. " She wasirradiated by her wrath. The usual faint yet warm redness of her facehad changed to a deeper hue, and her eyes were smouldering fires. Edward had never seen her look so handsome; but his attention wasdistracted from her at that instant by some rough, prickly shrubs, near which they were passing. He put out his hand instinctively tokeep them from touching his companion, and a sharp thorn pierced hispalm. He immediately affected to be in great pain. 

"It is easy for the pale-face to suffer, " she said tauntingly. 

"It is impossible for your race to be pitiful, " he replied in the sametone. 

Again she flushed hotly, and, as if to disprove his assertion, sheseized his hand, and pressed it closely to her angrily, heaving bosom, as she tried to extract the thorn from it. But it had penetrated toofar, and with a quick impatient ah! she bent her warm red lips to hispalm and strove to reach the thorn with her little white teeth. Afterseveral attempts she was at last successful, and looked up with an airof innocent triumph. 

"I take back my cruel words, " Edward said. "I am sure you can be alittle pitiful. " Then he put her gently but hastily aside, for theywere close upon "Bellevue, " and he was eager to meet Helene. 

With a grieved, child-like wonder the beautiful, ignorant savagewatched him, as he hurried across the velvet lawn, among beds ofbrilliant flowers, to greet a lily-like maiden, clad in what, in heruncivilized eyes, appeared to be a mingling of mist and moonbeams. Itwas the first time that he had shown a wish to leave her. Hitherto shehad been the object of his pursuit, of his devotion, of his ardentdesire. Now, like a cold blast, his neglect struck chill upon herheart, and she turned back into the forest solitudes with all thebrightness suddenly and strangely gone out of her life. 

But instead of being translated to the earthly paradise of a beautifulwoman's favour, Edward, to his own great disappointment and chagrin, found himself in a very different atmosphere. Helene was cold, nearlysilent, utterly indifferent. She was looking unusually well. The richharmonious contrasts of face and hair--the midnight darkness of theone breaking into the radiant dawn of the other--never beforeimpressed him so vividly. But she was terribly distant. The young manassured himself rather bitterly that if she were a thousand miles offshe could not have been more oblivious of his presence. She wasalluring even in her indifference, graceful, elegant, angelic--but anangel carved in ice. "I have been so unfortunate as to offend you, " hesaid at parting, as they stood alone in the soft, moonless, summerdusk. 

"I don't know; is it a matter of much importance?" There was an accentof weariness in her voice, but the tone was hard. 

"Yes, to me. You are as cold as death!"

"What a very unpleasant fancy!" She shivered lightly, and extended thetips of her very chilly fingers to him in a last good-night. 

Mademoiselle Helene was intensely proud. She had been an unobservedwitness of the scene between Edward and Wanda in the wood, and, ofcourse, had made her own misinterpretation. A man who could permit alow, untutored savage to fawn upon him in that way, kissing his handrepeatedly, and flushing with gratified vanity, presumably at hiswords of endearment, could scarcely expect to be treated otherwisethan with disdain by the high-bred girl whom he had previouslydelighted to honour. As for Edward he was sorely hurt and bewildered. Helene's treatment of him he considered decidedly curt, and naturalresentment burned within him at the thought. But before he reachedhome his anger had passed away, and with it all remembrance of thecold maiden and the unpleasant evening she had given him. In theirplace lived an intense recollection of a tawny woman, beautiful andwarm-blooded; and his heart thrilled with a tumult of emotions at thememory of her lustrous velvet lips closely pressed within his woundedhand. 

CHAPTER IX. 

ON THE WAY TO THE CAPITAL. 

From early summer to late autumn, from assurance of bloom to certaintyof frost, is but a step--the step between life and death. Themurmuring leaves and waters on the shores of Kempenfeldt Bay hadlearned a louder and harsher melody--the wild wind-prophecy of winter. For a brief season Indian summer came to re-illumine the despairingdays, and the larches, set aflame by her hand, flashed like lights. Then through the softly tinted wood broke the Autumn brightness upondelicate shimmering birch trees, red sumachs, purple tinged sassafras, golden rod and asters; but now the oaks and beeches had changed theirvelvet green raiment to dull brown, and all the wild woods, after thepitiless and well-nigh perpetual rains of Fall, were stricken anddiscoloured. Madame and Mademoiselle DeBerczy had flown with thebirds, and were now domiciled in their winter home at the Oak Ridges, whither Rose Macleod, in response to an urgent invitation from Helene, had accompanied them, and whence she wrote letters of entreaty to herfather, urging him to take a house in York for the winter. 

"Not that it is so particularly lively, " she wrote, "but it is notquite so deathly as at Pine Towers. Edward will be willing to come, Iknow, desperate lover of nature that he is, for there is nothing inthe woods now but eternal requiem over lost and buried beauty, ofwhich, in the natural vanity of youth, he may be tempted to considerhimself a part. As for the children they will build snow-houses, andsit down in them, thus ensuring permanent bad colds, and the othermember of your family, if she returns home, will 'look before andafter, and sigh for what is not. ' Is not that a sufficientlydepressing picture? Dear papa, you know that, like the bad little boysin a certain class of Sunday School literature, I can't be ruledexcept by kindness. Now see what an immense opportunity I have givenyou to govern me according to approved Sunday School ethics!"

She paused a moment, considering not what could be said, but whatcould be omitted from a missive which was to be convincing as well ascaressing in its nature, when Helene entered the room. 

"Love letter, Rose?" she inquired carelessly. 

"Certainly, " responded her friend, "all my letters are love letters. Would you have me write to a person I didn't love?"

"Why, I couldn't help it, that is supposing the letter you are writingis addressed to Allan Dunlop. Of course he is a person you don't love. "

"There is no reason why I should. "

"No reason? O ingratitude! After he dived under the heels of a fieryhorse, carried you nearly lifeless into the house, and took off hisboots every time he entered it for six weeks thereafter. How muchfurther could a man's devotion go?"

"I am beginning to find out, " said Rose, with a slight return of aninvalid's irritation, "how far a _woman's_ devotion can go. "

Helene arched her delicate brows. "Are you offended?" she asked, anxiously. "Ah, don't be! I'll take back every word. He _didn't_ takeoff his boots, nor carry you in, nor pick you up, and, let me see--whatother assertion did I make? Oh, yes. Of course he is a person you _do_love. But oh, Rose, Rose, what are you blushing about? This isn't thetime of year for roses to blush. "

"Upon my word, Helene, you are enough to make a stone wall blush. "

"Ah, you are thinking of the stone walls of a certain farm cottage. Ican imagine you sitting propped up in bed, with a volume of hymnsmarking the line, 'Stone walls do not a prison make, ' with a bigexclamation-point, and a 'So true!'"

Rose leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. 

"Are you very tired, dear?" inquired her friend, with real tenderness. 

"Very tired, " was the languid reply, that was not without a satiricalintonation. "It seems as though my rest was a good deal broken. "

"Broken bone! broken heart! broken rest! dear me! Well, I suppose theyfollow each other in natural sequence. "

"Helene, " said her mother, "you are chattering like a magpie. What isit all about?"

"Broken utterances, mamma. Not worth piecing together and repeating. "

Madame DeBerczy, seated alone at the other end of the apartment, turned upon her daughter a face of such majestic severity aseffectually to quell that young lady's recklessly merry mood. But itwas not for long. The irrepressible joyousness of her nature was notpermanently subdued until two weeks later, when the family weresurprised by the unlooked-for appearance of Edward Macleod. This youngman was the bearer of good-tidings. His father and the rest of thefamily were even now domiciled at an hotel in York waiting for Rose toarrive in order to consult her preferences before selecting a house. The announcement made both girls happy, but when it was discoveredthat Edward was to take his sister away in a few hours their joy waschanged to lamentation. To be separated, hateful thought! How could itbe endured? They withdrew for a brief space to consider this weightyproblem, leaving Edward in dignified conversation with MadameDeBerczy. He was strangely reminded of his first visit to her afterhis return from England. Alike, and yet how different. Then theprophecy of summer's golden perfection was in the air. But his hopeswith it had too-quickly ripened and died. The coolness that had sprangup between Helene and himself had grown and strengthened into thepermanent winter of discontent. He was recalled from the chillingreflections into which this thought had plunged him by the concludingwords of a remark by Madame DeBerczy: "I approve of a certain amountof life and animation, " she said, "but they are inclined to be toofrisky. "

"What on earth is she talking about?" queried Edward inaudibly. Hecould form no idea, but he was suddenly extricated from his dilemma byobserving the antics of two pet kittens on the hearth-rug. 

"Altogether too frisky, " he acquiesced, "but charming little pets. "

"It appears to me, " said the lady, with a good deal of frigidity inher manner, "that they should be something better than that. "

"Oh, you could scarcely expect such young things to be stately anddignified, Madame DeBerczy. They seem to me very pretty and graceful. "

"In my day prettiness and grace were not considered so essential foryoung ladies as dignity and stateliness. "

"Young ladies! Really, I beg your pardon, dear Madame, for myinattention. I imagined you were talking of kittens. " He blushed sovividly over his mistake that a more circumspect old lady even thanthe one he was addressing would have found it hard not to forgive him. 

But now the girls re-entered the room with looks of deep dejection. "We have decided that we can't part, " said Helene. "United we stand, divided we fall. "

"And so, " said Rose boldly, addressing Madame DeBerczy, "we have cometo ask if Helene cannot go back with us for a few days. " She paused amoment, for in asking a favour of so lofty a personage as MadameDeBerczy, she was never certain whether she ought to prostrate herselfon the floor in oriental fashion, or merely bend the knee. In thiscase she did neither. But her sweet pleading eyes spoke "libraries, "so Helene told her afterwards. The imaginative objections alreadyforming in the mother's mind vanished away, and she was prevailed uponto give her consent. 

"Though it leaves me rather at the mercy of Sophia, " she said, as shewent out to lunch. 

Edward lifted an inquiring pair of eyes. 

"Sophia is my new maid, " explained his hostess. "Her ideas on thesubject of liberty and equality are extreme. Sometimes, " she addedmournfully, "I am in doubt as to whether I have hired Sophia, orSophia has hired me. "

The young people longed to exchange covert glances of amusement, butthis relief was denied them. It was no laughing matter to the statelysufferer at the head of the table. Rose spoke in the decent accents ofsympathy and condolence, but her brother and friend were not profuseof speech. The latter was thinking of possible explanations andreconciliations that might arise through the frequent opportunities ofmeeting with Edward, which a temporary residence under the same roofwould entail, and the former was feasting his beauty-loving eyes upona strikingly lovely picture on the other side of the table--thepicture of two heads, golden-yellow and raven-black, against the richbackground of a peacock-tinted tapestry screen. 

They were much less picturesque in their winter wraps, as they whirledaway under the leafless trees, but they made up for it in merriment. Edward and Helene were secretly glad of the presence of Rose. It wasimpossible to be frigidly formal with that sunny face beaming up nowat one, then at the other. This deep young person had made up her mindthat she would spare no pains to bring about a better state of feelingbetween the two. When conversation lagged or threatened to becomeformally precise, she gave utterance to some amazing piece ofnonsense, which compelled a laugh from the others, or else indulged inprettily assumed alarm, lest their horse should prove untrustworthy. 

"When you see a horse's ears move, " she declared, "it is a sign thathe is vicious. Flip's ears were never still. "

"Why, Rose, " cried her brother, "this horse is no more like Flip thanan old cow is like a wild cat. Besides his ears don't move. "

"Oh, yes, they do, " remarked Helene, with the calmness of scientificconviction. "When a horse moves his ears have got to move too. Theyare not detachable. It is the same with other animals. "

"Where is my note-book?" inquired Edward, after a fruitless search inhis various pockets, while Rose observed "Well, you may say what youplease, but I feel sure he is not safe. "

"Indeed, he isn't, " echoed the driver. "He's liable to turn around anymoment and bite you. It's a good thing the livery stable man hitchedhim up head first, else we might all have been devoured by theferocious beast. "

Such pleasantries might have been indefinitely extended had notunusual sounds of mirth and minstrelsy coming from behind arrestedtheir attention. 

"Why, it is the Elmsleys, " softly exclaimed Rose. "Dear me! I haven'tseen Grace and Eleanor for months. "

These young ladies hailed her with every expression of delight as thecarriages came to a stand-still together. They had a prodigious amountto say. At last, as the horses were growing restive, Mrs. Elmsleyinvited Miss Macleod to join their family party, as they also were ontheir way to York. 

"_Do_!" echoed the daughters, and Rose accepted with alacrity. "Thehorse we have isn't at all safe, " she explained, "and I am quitenervous on the subject since my accident last summer. "

"Rose, " demanded Helene, in a low aside, but with a tragic countenance, "you surely are not going to leave me?"

The girl laughed as she accepted Mr. Elmsley's proffered assistancefrom one vehicle into the other. "Why, you are quite a grown woman, "observed that gentleman, apparently much impressed by her matureproportions, "and it seems like only the other day that you were sevenyears old, and used to kiss me when we met. "

"Well, I'll kiss you again, " replied the saucy Rose, adding after amoment's pause, --"when I am seven years old. "

"I warn you, Mrs. Elmsley, " said Edward, shaking his head with dolefulforeboding, "that girl knows how to look like the innocent flower sheis named after, and be the serpent under it. "

"Did you know, " said his slandered sister, addressing the same lady, and indicating the pair she had basely forsaken, "those are the verytwo that were with me when I was so badly hurt last summer. Do youwonder that I am glad to escape from them?"

The party drove off amid jests and laughter, while the young ladies, applying their lips once more to a leaf of grass-ribbon each had inher hand, produced such sounds as, according to their father, might, Orpheus-like, have drawn stones and brickbats after them, but from amurderous rather than a magnetic motive. 

"I wonder if Rose is really nervous, " said Edward, breaking thesilence that bound them after the departure of the others. 

"I think she is really nonsensical, " said Rose's friend, not veryblandly. 

"Are you then so sorry to be left alone with me?"

The young lady evaded the question, but became extremely loquacious. She intimated that almost any companionship, or none at all, could beendured on this beautifully melancholy autumn day, and called hisattention to the leaves underfoot, which had grown brown and ragged, like the pages of a very old book on which the centuries had laidtheir slow relentless fingers. In a burst of girlish confidence shetold him that always, after the wild winds had stripped from theshuddering woodland its last leaves, and the pitiless rains had washedit clean, the spectacle of bare-branched trees, standing against thegentle gloom of a pale November sky, reminded her of a company ofworldings, from whom every vestige of earthly ambition, pride andprosperity had fallen away. "Anything, " she said to herself, "_anything_ to keep the talk from becoming personal. "

"I can understand that, " said Edward, "but the influences ofunworldliness--I was almost saying other-worldliness--are nowhere feltas in the woods. Sometimes they exert a strange spell upon me. Thepetty pride and shallow subterfuges of fashionable life are impossiblein nature's solitudes. Don't you think so?"

"Yes;" assented Helene, not seeing whither her unthinking acquiescencemight lead her. 

"That is why I dare to ask you why you have been so cold and formaltowards me, so unlike your old self, for the last three months?"

No petty pride could help her now, no shallow subterfuges come to heraid. She had declared that they were impossible here. She could notturn her face away from his truth-compelling gaze. Why had Rose lefther alone to be tortured in this dreadful way? How could she confessto him that jealousy and wounded vanity had caused the change in herdemeanour? "I cannot tell you, " she said at last. She had turned palereven than usual, but her eyes burned. 

"I am sorry to have given you pain, " he said almost tenderly, and thenthe confession broke from her in a little storm of pent-up emotion. 

"It was because I ceased to respect you! How could I respect a man whowould allow a wild ignorant creature to caress his hands and hang uponhis words?"

He turned a face of pure bewilderment upon her. "If you mean theAlgonquin girl, Wanda, " he said, "she has never treated me otherwisethan with indifference, anger and contempt. " He explained the scene ofwhich Helene had been an involuntary witness, and the proud girl felthumiliated and belittled. But he was too generous and perhaps tooclever to allow her to suppose that he attributed her coldness to weakjealousy. That would have placed her at a disadvantage which her pridewould never have forgiven. 

"So you believed me to be a vain contemptible idiot, " he said, "Thenyou did perfectly right to scorn me. " He drove on furiously, withtense lips and contracted brow. She had misjudged him cruelly, but hewould not descend to harsh accusation. Helene was decidedlyuncomfortable. "I have never scorned you, " she said. "It was becauseI believed you superior to the folly and weakness of ordinary men thatit grieved me to think you were otherwise. "

"It grieved you, " he repeated in a softer tone. "Hereafter I wish youwould confide all your griefs to me the moment you are aware of them. "

"To tell the truth, I don't expect to have any more. " She laughed herold joyous friendly laugh, and he stretched his arm across her lap toadjust the robe more closely to her form. Her attitude towards him hadcompletely changed, concretely as well as abstractly, for now she satcosily and contentedly by his side, instead of perching herself a yardaway, and allowing the winter winds to emphasize the coldness that hadexisted between them. This wonderful improvement in the mentalatmosphere made them oblivious to a change in the outer air untilHelene remarked upon the peculiar odour of smoke about them. Thisincreased until it became almost stifling. Evidently the blazing brushheap, lit by the hand of some thrifty settler, had extended furtherthan he was aware of. The smoke blew past them, and they were in themidst of that vividly picturesque spectacle--a fire in the forest. Theflames ran swiftly up the dry, dead limbs, turning trees into hugeblazing torches, and the light underbrush beneath them took onbeautiful and fantastic shapes of fire. The gray sky was illuminedwith fiery banners, while, like scarlet-clothed imps at a carnival, the flames leaped and danced among the twigs and smaller branches. 

The hot breeze blowing on her cheek filled Helene with sudden alarm, and Edward urged the horse to a quicker pace. But the frightenedcreature needed no urging. With a great shuddering leap he sprangforward as though a thousand fire-fiends from the infernal regions hadbeen after him. Helene uttered a half-suppressed shriek, and clungstrenuously to Edward's arm. Suddenly he gave a loud gasp of dismay. On the road directly before them a pile of brush had caught the blazeand stretched before their startled eyes like a burning bridge. Allattempts to stop or turn around were useless. The horse was whollybeyond control. For a moment they were enveloped in smoke and flame, shut into a fiery furnace, from which an instant later they emergedfrom danger, but with a badly singed steed and an unpleasant odour offire upon them. Edward had pushed Helene to the bottom of thecarriage, and flung the robe over her. Now he drew her trembling, andsobbing a little, back to his side. She was shaking excessively, andin order to restore her equanimity there was clearly nothing else tobe done but to hold her closely in his arms, let fall his face tohers, and breathe in her ear every word of sympathy and comfort thatcame to his mind. She lay weakly with closed eyes upon his breast, while the excitement in her pulses gradually died away. When sheopened her eyes the short November day was nearly at its close, andYork was in sight. She drew away to her own corner of the seat, notwith any visible blushes, for her complexion never lost its warmwhiteness, but her eyes glowed, and her lips were 'like a thread ofscarlet. '

"I am glad Rose was not with us, " she said, feeling a pressing need tosay something, and in default of anything better to say, "as she iseven more nervous than I am. "

"Yes, I am _very_ glad she was not with us, " assented Edward, with anunusual amount of brotherly fervour, while he turned his horse in thedirection of the only available hotel in the Capital, where thewearied travellers were content to rest for a few days before settingout in search of a new home. 

CHAPTER X. 

YORK AND THE MAITLANDS. 

There are difficulties in the way of one who would describe an eventafter an immortal poet has given it a setting in lines that aworshipping world will not willingly let die. A tree, it is said, isnever struck by lightning more than once, and it is safe to supposethat a subject is never illumined by the rays of heaven-descendedgenius without being as thoroughly exhausted. Nevertheless, with ourtame domestic lantern, let us endeavour to throw a little prosaiclight over the details of a scene that has been irradiated by theimagination of a Byron. 

It was one of the events of the season to the social world of thatforeign town, but to us it is one of the events of the century. On anevening in June, 1815, in the city of Brussels, the Duchess ofRichmond gave a ball on so magnificent a scale that even the grayheads of society's veteran devotees were a little turned, and thechestnut and golden pates of their juniors tossed sleeplessly on theirpillows for several nights preceding it. After all, humanity isperpetually and overpoweringly interested in nothing except humanity. On the evening appointed there was a vast beautiful throng, movingthrough halls as beautiful and more vast; there was the witchery ofsoft lights and softer sounds, of odours and colours that enchant thesenses; there were banks of flowers, each of whose tiny blossomsyielded its dying breath to make the world sweeter for an hour, andamong them, under the starry lights, in warm human veins, flowed athousand streams; very blue, not so blue, and even common crimson. Butall flowed faster than usual, perhaps the better to warm the lovelybare shoulders and arms, or to paint the sweet cheeks above them inthe vivid hues of glad, intense young life. Intermingled with thecostly robes and flashing gems on the ideal figures of fair women, gleamed the brilliant uniforms of brave men. "A thousand hearts beathappily"--with one exception. This was in the possession of the seconddaughter of a duke. She was even then remarkable for her beauty andfor a certain imperious, condescending grace. The gay throng of whichshe was a part was no more to her than so many buttercups and daisies;and these sumptuous apartments, so far as they concerned her, mighthave been a series of green meadows. At last her indifferent glance, travelling over the room, encountered an object that faintly flushedher cheek, and brightened the eyes, whose orbit of vision was nowlimited to the circle immediately about her. Cold indifference hadchanged to throbbing impatience. Ah, why did he not come! With whomwas he lingering? She dared not look up lest her glance, like a swift, bright messenger, should tell him all her heart, and draw himmagnetically to her side. No, he must come of his own choice, andquickly, else her mood would change. Soft strains of music arose, melting, aching, dying upon the air. Her heart melted, ached, andapparently died also, for it turned cold and hard as she glanced ather watch, and saw that it was more than a minute, nearly _two_minutes (two eternities they seemed to her) since she began to be gladthat she had come. 

The next instant her long-lashed lids were raised in spite of herself, and she confronted a singularly tall and attractive-looking gentleman, whose face, from its pensive sadness, had a certain poetic charm. Hebegged the honour of the next dance with her. She regretted that hewas too late. He looked disappointed, but ventured to name the nextone. She was sorry, but it was impossible. Had she room for himanywhere at all on her list? She shook her head prettily butinexorably. The handsomest coquette and the plainest school-ma'am havethis in common, that they detest and punish tardiness. The young manwas overpowered by his sense of loss. It was small comfort to standand look at the beautiful girl. When the gates of paradise are closedagainst one it matters little whether they are made of gold or ofiron. Inwardly he bestowed some very hard names upon himself forimagining that that peerless creature would be allowed to await awilling wall-flower his languidly deferred appearance. 

Again those heavenly strains rose and throbbed upon the air. It wasmaddening. The keenness of his disappointment gave his face anintensity of ardent expression that certainly did not detract from itscharm in the eyes of the girl who at that instant glanced up into it. The next moment he was pressed aside--very decorously, verycourteously, even apologetically pushed aside, but still compelled byan insinuating patrician hand to make room for its owner, a gentlemanwhose extremely lofty title had already drawn the homage of a hundredadmiring pairs of eyes upon him, and whose prevailing expression was ahaughty consciousness of accustomed and assumed success. The younglady whom he now honoured with a request to dance did not think of histitle, nor of his condescension, nor of him. She declined withcharacteristic indifference on the plea that she was already engaged, and turning placed her hand on the arm of Sir Peregrine Maitland, whose suddenly bewildered and enraptured heart, if it had never beforegiven its assent to the time-worn proposition that all is fair in loveas well as in war, certainly could not hesitate now. Perhaps thetriumphs of the ball-room are not less thrilling than those of thebattle-field. "Why were you so cruel to me a moment ago?" he murmured, looking down into eyes that but too clearly reflected the happiness ofhis own. 

"For the same reason that I am kind to you now, " she responded like aflash. 

He did not ask her the reason. Perhaps he was intuitively andblissfully aware of it. Did ever maiden discover a more demurelydaring way of telling her lover that she loved him?

But now, caressed by little wafts of perfume, and half-dazed by theblaze of lights and colours around and above them, they were driftingas on a tide upon soft swelling waves of music. In liquid undulationsof sweet sound they floated insensibly down the windings of the waltz, nor dreamed of danger till the note of warning came. It was aprodigious note--nothing less than the boom of a cannon--and thesignal for instant, perhaps life-long, separation. 

 "Who could guess, If ever more should meet those mutual eyes? Since upon night so sweet such awful morn could rise. "

But, as we know, two pairs at least of those mutual eyes were destinedto meet again, and meet as gladly and warmly as when their ownersdanced together on the evening before the battle of Waterloo. But thechill atmosphere of a father's disapproval lay between them. It isreasonable to suppose that the fourth Duke of Richmond and Lennox wasnot so susceptible to the charms of pensive and picturesque younggentlemen as was his wilful daughter. Among the names on a list ofinvitations to a party given by the latter appeared that of SirPeregrine Maitland, which, coming under the cold parental eye, waspromptly erased. At the same time he inquired of his daughter why shepermitted that undesirable gentleman to hang about her skirts--why shedid not let him go. The response was that after this decided slight heprobably _would_ go; she added with a little sigh that she did notknow where. The duke profanely and contemptuously mentioned a localitywhich shall be nameless. The young lady made no reply. She believed indivision of labour, and in former domestic affairs of this sort herstern parent had invariably said what he pleased, while she contentedherself with merely doing what she pleased. 

Proverbially, actions speak louder than words, and the present casewas no exception, for while the echo of her father's speech did not gobeyond the walls of the apartment they were in, her own rashperformance, which was a direct consequence of it, was a few dayslater noised abroad through all Paris. This was an evening call at thelodgings of Sir Peregrine Maitland. She came in unannounced, flushed, eager, defiant, lovely, letting fall the rich train of her robe, whichshe had caught up in a swift flight through the streets, and throwingoff her enveloping cloak, which scattered a shower of sparkling dropson brow and bosom, and beautiful bare arms, for a light shower hadfallen. "They would not let you come to me, so I have come to you, "she declared with a daring little laugh. "I have run away from myguests. There is a houseful of them and they tire me to death. Everyone tires me to-night except you. " The gentleman stood before herspeechless with bewilderment. "I believe, " she said with a littlepout, like a spoiled child, "that you are not glad to see me. "

"Glad to see you, " he repeated, "dearest, yes! But not in this way, atthis time. "

She turned aside, but the drops that glittered on her cheek now werenot caused by the rain. Her shimmering silken robes seemed to uttercontinuous soft whispers of applause to her nervous yet gracefulmovements. Altogether she was an incongruous object in the unhome-likebareness of a bachelor's apartments. "You are not very cordial, monsieur, " she remarked in a cold tone, as she stood with her back tohim, staring hard at an uninteresting picture above the mantel-shelf;"it seems to be a pleasure to you to receive an evening caller, butnot exactly a rapture. " She smiled her old imperious smile as shethrew herself into a tired-looking chair, while her host, with veryobvious reluctance, sank into one just opposite. For an instant herbeauty smote upon his brain. He leaned forward until his face touchedthe lapful of rare old laces that flowed wave-like from waist to kneeon the dress of the girl he loved. 

"Darling, " he murmured, "it is a rapture"--then he suddenly drewhimself very far back in his chair--"but not exactly a pleasure!"

She rose again and moved restlessly about the room. He stood pale, speechless, waiting for her to go--a waiting that was almost asupplication. "How could you have the courage to come to me, " hebreathed as she drew near him. 

"Because I hadn't the courage to stay away from you. I am brave enoughto do, but not to endure. "

"My poor love! if this escapade becomes public you will have enough toendure. "

"I do not care for the world. " She stood facing him with the absolutesincerity and trust of irresistible love. "I care for you, " she said. 

He took the little jewelled hand and reverently kissed it. "Ah, don'tdo that!" she cried, drawing it away with a quick impatient frown. Hedrew away, supposing that he had offended her, while she, giving himthe puzzled incredulous look that a woman must give a man when shediscovers, not that his intuitions are duller than her own, but thathe has no intuitions at all, continued her tour about the room. 

"Sweetheart, " he said, following her, but not venturing to lay afinger upon her, "you _must_ go. " His voice was earnest and verytender. 

"The same idea has occurred to me, " she said, "but I dislike to hurry. There is nothing so vulgar as haste. " Her old mocking tone hadreturned, and in despair he threw himself back into his seat. 

Something in the pathetic grace of his attitude and the beauty of hissensitive poetic face smote upon the heart that, with all itsperversity, belonged alone to him. She ran to him and knelt at hisside, with her white arms outstretched across his knees, and herlovely head bowed upon them. The young man realized with sharpdistinctness that the fear of society is not the strongest feelingthat can animate the human frame. He uttered a few passionate words ofendearment, and would have gathered her closely into his breast, butshe, without looking up, sprang suddenly from him and, seizing hercloak, sped wind-like to her home. 

But there were consequences. Madame Grundy, who is chief among thosefor whom Satan finds some mischief still, openly declared that therewere some forms of imprudence that could be tolerated and some thatcould not, and that this particular indiscretion must, with reluctance, be relegated to the latter class. The irate father of the erring onecoincided with this view of things, and a speedy marriage was theresult. "Not guilty--but she mustn't do so again!" had evidently beenthe verdict of society. 

A few months later, in 1818, Sir Peregrine Maitland, his affairs oflove happily settled, was appointed ruler of Upper Canada, where hisattention was turned to affairs of State. But there was one subject inconnection with his courtship-days which had never been satisfactorilysettled, and upon which he did not venture to question his wife untilseveral years had elapsed. Then, late one afternoon, it recurred tohim in that unaccountable way in which bygone events are accustomed torise at odd times and lay claim to the attention. 

"Dear, " he said, "why did you object to my kissing your hand theevening you called on me in Paris?"

"You may lay out the corn-coloured silk, Emma, " said Lady Sarah to hermaid, who came that moment with an inquiry upon toilette matters. Thenas the girl disappeared she resumed her novel, peeping over the top ofit at her husband. 

"As though I wanted you to kiss my _hand_!" she said. 

"_Oh_!" A sudden light seemed to dawn upon the dense masculineunderstanding. Sir Peregrine was very proud of his beautiful wife. Atthe private reception which she gave that evening the corn-colouredsilk gown was the centre of a group of government officials and thesocial dignitaries of the time, between herself and whom the ball ofconversation kept lightly moving. 

She turned from them to greet an old friend. "Ah, Commodore, so youare really settled here for the winter. Rose told me that you had somethoughts of remaining out in the bush through the cold season, in thecosy but rather too exclusive manner of a family of chipmunks. Whathave you been doing all summer?"

"Keeping myself unspotted from the world, " replied the gentleman, witha stately bow to the lady, and a sportive glance at the worthyrepresentatives of the social world surrounding her. 

"How very scriptural! Do Bibles grow on bushes in the backwoods thatquotation of them comes so easily?"

"I don't know, I'm sure. Such searching theological questions are, Isuppose, what a man must expect to confront when he forsakes thesimple and sequestered life of the chipmunks. "

"Well, I am disappointed. I supposed from the expression of your eyesthat you were going to say something complimentary. "

"My dear Lady Sarah, do compliments grow on street corners in themetropolis that the expectation of them comes so easily?"

"No, indeed--nor in drawing-rooms either, apparently. It is a noveltyto meet a man who persists in making his conversation impersonal; butit is really cold-hearted of you to think of remaining so long awayfrom us. "

"How can you say so! Absence, you know, makes the heart grow fonder. "

"Does it?" The lady made a feint of moving away. "Now if it were onlypossible for me to absent myself, " she said, laughingly. 

"Impossible! That is for me to do. " And the gentleman withdrew withflattering haste. 

In his place appeared a blonde young man, with deep sea-blue eyes anda bright buoyant expression, on whose arm his hostess laid a softdetaining hand. "Were you on the point of asking me to walk about alittle?" she inquired. "I am going to accept with alacrity. "

The young fellow, who would scarcely have made the suggestion in theface and eyes of several among the most distinguished of his fellowcitizens immediately surrounding her, was not slow to respond, thoughhe assumed an expression of alarm. 

"I fear this is a deep-laid plot, " he remarked. "I saw my fatherleaving you in haste a moment ago. Probably he has offended you, andyou are about to visit the iniquities of the parents upon thechildren. Pray are you taking me apart in order to spare my sensitivefeelings? So kind of you!"

"Well, it was not my benevolent intention to lecture you at all, either in public or private, but since you speak of it so feelingly nodoubt the need exists. First tell me what you have been doing allsummer. "

"Living out in the wild woods among the wild flowers, wild animals, wild Indians, and--"

"What a wild young man! I am positively afraid of you. "

"Delightful! Please oblige me by remaining so. It is difficult for meto be appalling for any length of time, yet the emotion of fear mustbe cultivated in your mind at all hazards. "

"And why?"

"Because you will never dare to lecture the awe-inspiring being ofwhom you are in mortal terror. "

"Oh! are you sure of that? I met a famous lecturer the other day, andhe assured me that he never stepped before an audience withoutsuffering from fright; yet he did not spare his hearers on thataccount. "

"Such is the hardheartedness of man. We expect more from a woman. "

"More of a lecture, or more hardheartedness?"

"More of the latter--from you. "

"Well I am under the impression that you will receive, before long, agood deal of the former from a young lady present. Are you aware thatwe are observed?"

"I am sure that one of us is the observed of all observers. "

"It is kind of you not to add that politeness forbids you to saywhich. But what I mean is that since we began to talk I have twiceencountered a glance from the darkest eyes I ever saw. "

"They must belong to Mademoiselle DeBerczy. "

"They do. That girl's eyes and hair are black enough to cast a gloomover the liveliest conversation. "

"But her smiles are bright enough to illumine the gloom. "

"Then it is a shame that she should waste them upon that ratherslow-looking young man in front of her. Will you take me back to myseat and then go and see if you can release her from bondage?"

The request was immediately acceded to, and not long afterwards HeleneDeBerczy and Edward Macleod were exchanging the light talk, not worthreporting, that springs so easily from those whose hearts are light. 

Meantime where was Rose? To all outward appearance she was demurelylistening to the remarks of a distinguished statesman, whose opinionswere held to be of great weight, and whose form, at any rate, fullymerited this description. He was so delighted to think that one soyoung and fair could be so deep. Alas! she _was_ deep in a sense thegifted gentleman never knew. For, while the sweet head bowed assent, and the rose-bud lips unclosed to utter such remarks as "Ah, indeed!You surprise me!" and "Very true!" to statements of profound nationalimport, her maiden meditations were as free as fancy. Before hermental vision the brilliant rooms with their gay well-dressedassemblage melted away, and in their place was a fair green meadow, wide and waving and deliciously cool under the declining sun of asummer evening. The last load of the second crop of hay was on its wayto the barn, when a great longing desire took possession of her toride on it. She walked out to the field, very slowly and feebly, butstill she actually walked--and the whole cavalcade came to a dead stopat sight of her, for she had never been able to go any farther thanthe gate since her accident. Mr. Dunlop, and Allan, and the hired man, and even the oxen all stopped, and looked at her as though theyexpected to hear that the house was afire, or that the servant girlhad run away with the butcher's boy. But when they found that nothingwas wanted except a ride on a load of hay Mr. Dunlop said, "bless thechild!" and held her up as high as he could reach. Then Allan liftedher the rest of the way, blushing as he did so. She remembered howbeautifully clean he looked in his white shirt sleeves, and what clearwarm shades of brown there were in the eyes and on the cheeks underthe broad straw hat. She remembered, too, with a little warmth offeeling--not a _very_ uncomfortable warmth of feeling--how, when thewaggon made a great lurch going over a ditch, she had uttered a littlescream, and laid strenuous hands of appeal upon the white sleeved arm, and how, when they came to another ditch, a brown palm had held fastto her trembling hand until the danger was over. Halfway in the barndoor he made the oxen stop, until she had stood on tip toe, and puther hand among the little swallows in a nest under the eaves. Ah, whatwas there in the memory of new-mown hay to fill her with this sharpsweet pain? She awoke from her dream to a consciousness that thegentleman beside her was saying that it was sufficiently clear toevery enlightened understanding that unless tum tum tum tum measureswere instantly adopted mum mum mum mum would be the inevitable result. 

"Oh, no doubt of it, " said Rose, and then there was a readjustment ofthe group in her immediate vicinity. Lady Sarah Maitland appeared witha bewitching smile and begged to introduce the honourable gentleman, who had been discoursing with so much eloquence to a friend of hers. The 'friend' hovered in the distance, but even in perspective it wasclear to be seen that he was a man of great powers of endurance. 

The honourable gentleman concealed under a flattered smile hisdistaste for the proposition, and in a few moments his place wasoccupied by Lady Sarah, who took one of the little hands, soft andpink as a handful of rose-leaves, between her own. 

"I wonder if I might venture to ask a favour, " she said. 

"I'm sure I should never venture to refuse it, " returned the younggirl, with all a young girl's appreciation of kindness coming from athoroughbred woman of the world. 

"Then I wish very much that you would sing one of your favouritesongs. It would be a great pleasure to very many of us. "

"I'll not wait to be coaxed, " was the reply, after a moment'shesitation. "It is only really good singers who can afford to dothat. "

In spite of her dimpled figure and child-face, Rose Macleod had a verystately little way with her, and it served to repel one pair of eyesthat for the first time that evening caught sight of her as she movedtowards the instrument. A little queen! That was what he had alwayscalled her in his heart. _His_ little queen! Oh, how had he dared toenthrone her there? Presumptuous idiot! she was as far from him as thestars are from the weeds. But the girl at the piano thought of nothingbut the sharp, sweet odour of new-mown hay. Sharp as a sword and sweetas love, it pierced and thrilled her being. Then, like a fragrantblossom, a melody sprang from the hidden sources of her pain. Thesympathetic musical expressiveness of her voice, and its purepenetrating quality filled the room, and riveted the attention ofevery one in it. Others came in from adjoining rooms, until, in thepress of the throng, a young man was forced, in spite of himself, nearer and nearer to the instrument, and found himself close besidethe fair girl-goddess of song, just as the last words left her lips. Like one awaking from sleep she looked at him, and then the glad lightof recognition swept up to her eyes. Her dream had come true. "Oh, "she exclaimed, "it is Allan!"

CHAPTER XI

AFTER "THE BALL. "

She was conscious of what she had said an instant afterwards andblushed to the brow. If any one at that moment had asked her what's ina name, and she had been compelled to reveal her inmost convictions, the fair Rose, who by any other name would be as sweet, would haveanswered "impropriety, embarrassment, a host of unpleasant emotions. "It was impossible to explain to him that she had been helping him tomake hay that evening in Lady Sarah Maitland's parlours, and that thatwas why the name that she had heard so frequently in the meadow hadleft her lips so easily and naturally that night. Better try and seemunconscious. But unconsciousness, like happiness, comes unsought ornot at all. As for Allan, his own name had never made such music inhis ears and surely to no lone watcher waiting for the dawn could thefirst blush of morn be more welcome than was to him this lovelymantling bloom on the face of the girl he loved. 

"Charming!" "Exquisite!" "Do sing something else!" were theexclamations rained upon her as she ceased to sing, but she lookedonly to him. 

"How is it I have never heard you sing before?" he inquired, with theapplause that the others had uttered shining unspoken in his eyes. 

"You have too many professional singers about your home. I am afraidto sing before them. Did you ever hear birds called 'the angels ofearth?'"

"Never. "

"Well, if nobody else originated the phrase I am willing to doso--rather than that it shouldn't be originated at all. "

"It may be a pretty idea, " said Allan, "and yet it fails to suit mycritical taste. " They withdrew a little from the crowd, and found aquiet place in which to sit and chat, for now a pianist of note hadbeen led a willing sacrifice to the place Rose vacated. 

"You must be hard to please, " said Rose. "What can be more like anangel than a bird? It has wings, and it sings, and it is rejoicinglyhappy. It seems to be particularly blest every moment of its blessedlittle life. "

"Very likely. Nevertheless I think a flower much more closelyresembles an angel. "

"A flower? Why, there is scarcely a point of resemblance. "

The young man laughed, but the slight whimsical frown between hisbrows deepened. 

"Now that isn't at all what I expected you to say. I thought you mightbe kind enough to inquire, 'What flower?' and then I could reply, 'Thequeen of flowers. '"

Rose looked down a moment at the warm pink hands restlessly twiningand intertwining in her lap. "I am glad I did not make the inquiry, "she said. 

"You don't like clumsy compliments?"

"I believe I don't like any kind from you. "

"Why, please?"

"I don't know exactly, unless because it seems natural to expectsomething better. "

Allan Dunlop was dimly aware that a compliment of a very high orderhad been paid to himself. "Our best friends are those who compel us todo our best, " he said. "I hope you will always expect something betterof me than anything I have done. "

It was the speech of an ambitious young man. They both recognized thenote of earnestness that seemed to place them for a moment above thefrivolous crowd about them. Only for a moment; then they lapsed easilyinto the light talk so natural to the occasion. 

"Have you had a pleasant evening?" he asked. 

"Very pleasant. " Her mind reverted once more to her delightfulreverie, and the scent of new-mown hay was again about her. Then, asthough he could read her thoughts, she brought them back to thepresent with a quick little blush, and mentioned the name of thegentleman who had absorbed so large a part of her time, if not of herattention, through the evening. 

"Now, why should she blush when she mentions his name?" thought poorAllan, with a sharp jealous pang at his heart, for the man she alludedto was an eligible bachelor, who had successfully resisted the charmsof one generation of maidens. "If you find Mr. Gallon's conversationso interesting, " he said, rather forlornly, "mine will seem dull bycontrast. What was he expatiating upon?"

"Politics, mostly. "

"Are you interested in that subject? I think of going into politicsmore deeply myself some time. "

"Do you, indeed? More than you have?" If he had spoken of going into adecline Rose could not have looked more foreboding. Allan glancedacross half-enviously at the personage who had the power to investthat topic with interest. "He seems to be more than usually rousedto-night. "

Rose suppressed a yawn. "Does he talk better when he is roused than hedoes when he's asleep?" she asked. 

"Surely he displayed no signs of sleepiness when talking with you. "

"No; but I cannot answer for myself. "

That senseless pang of jealousy died a very easy death after all, andthe only sufferer from it would have been entirely happy were it notfor the advancing form of Commodore Macleod, who came in search of hisdaughter, and bore her off with a speed that left her lover a littlechilled and daunted. 

The Canadian winter with its bright, fierce days and sparkling nightswas upon them, but it held no terrors for the young hearts who met itin a mood as defiantly merry as its own. Only a suffering or morbidnature sees in winter the synonym of death and decay; fancies thatmourning and desolation is the burden of the gaily whistling winds;and regards the bare trees, rid of their dusty garments, and quietlyresting, as shivering skeletons, and the dancing snow-flakes as thecolourless pall that hides from sight all there is of life andloveliness. Nature, when the labours of the year are over, sinks torest beneath her fleecy coverings, lulled to sleep in the kindly, yetfrosty, arms of the Northern tempest. What wild weird lullabies aresung to her unheeding ears, dulled by the lethargy of sleep. How earlyfalls the darkness, and how late the long night lingers, the better toensure repose to the sweet mistress of the earth! How bright thestarry eyes of heaven keeping watch above her rest!

The Macleods had settled in a furnished house, through which Rose hadalready diffused the charm of her dainty personality. She was kneelingbefore the hearth, like a young fire-worshipper, one snowy afternoon, and thinking a little drearily that the close environment of asnow-storm in town rendered it almost as lonely as the country, when avisitor was announced, the sound of whose name seemed to make thesolitude populous. It was Allan Dunlop, whom she instantly forgave forso soon availing himself of her permission to call, when she realizedhow welcome a break his coming made in the cheerless monotony of theday. He caught a glimpse of bright hair against a background ofblazing logs, and then she came forward to meet him, not eagerly, notshyly, but with a charming manner in which both eagerness and shynesswere suggested. At that moment all the warmth and brightness of thebleak colourless world shone for him in the eyes and hair of thissweet girl, and in the glowing fire-place before which she drew hischair. 

"It is exactly the sort of day on which one expects to be free fromthe annoyance of callers, " he said. "Ought I to apologize?"

"By all means--instantly--and in the most profuse and elaborateterms. " She assumed her grand air, mounted a footstool, and stoodlooking over his head with her saucy chin elevated, waiting for theabject petition that did not come. The young man's heart rendered thetribute of an unmistakable throb to its "little queen;" but emotionaldeclarations are out of place after a short acquaintance, especiallywhen there exists a decided belief that they will be listened to in anunfriendly spirit, or, what is infinitely worse, in a friendly spirit. It was the fear of making Rose his friend that steeled Allan'sdetermination to bide his time, and that rendered his present replyrather more stiff than sensational. 

"I beg a thousand pardons, " he began, when she interrupted him with--

"Oh, that is too many. Do try and be a little more moderate in yourdemands. Would it please you to have me spend the whole afternoon inforgiving you?"

Allan laughed--a blithe contented little laugh. "Any way that you liketo spend the afternoon will please me, " he said, "so long as I am notdeprived of your presence. Oh, not _that_ way, " he added, as a littlefrown crept between her golden-brown eyebrows, "that way excepted. "

"Very well. I'll not frown at you, but you must promise not to come sonear again to the verge of a compliment. "

"I promise. Anything to keep a frown from marring the--I mean fromyour face. But the difficulty is to think of anything that is as easyto say. "

"You might better remind me of my faults. "

"Oh, you could scarcely expect me to be eloquent on that subject. Ididn't know that they exist--that is to say, I am incapable ofspeaking upon a subject so wide reaching and profound. Are they likeunto the snow-flakes for multitude?"

"No, not quite so numerous, but far worse in quality. For instance, the other day I never smiled at papa the least bit when I said, goodmorning!"

"Horrible! what an unnatural daughter!"

"It was because he wouldn't let me dance as often as I wanted to thenight before. He said he must draw the line somewhere. It is strangethat the word _somewhere_ in that sentence invariably means theprecise point where it is most painful to have it drawn. "

Allan Dunlop, who had already had some experience of the Commodore'sability to draw the line at the sensitive point designated by hisdaughter, murmured only, "very strange. "

"Not that he was in the least unkind about it, " continued Rose. "Papais always lovely to me, no matter how I behave. "

"Very lovely?"

"_Very_ lovely. "

"I never before was so struck with the truths of heredity, " mused theyoung man. "You are exactly like him. "

"_Oh_!" the girl dropped her face in her hands a moment, and thenthrust them out with the palms toward her guest. "You have need to bega thousand pardons and a thousand more to cover the offences you havecommitted. And you have broken your promise!"

"What a harsh accusation! I promised not to come to the verge of acompliment. Do you think that was on the verge?"

"No! It was too blunt--too dreadfully--"

"It is a pleasure to hear you so emphatically contradict an assertionmade by yourself. "

"That is a mere quibble--a legal quibble. Well, there is no doubt thatyou would make a very successful lawyer. "

"Is that a compliment, or does it approach the verge of one?"

Before this problem could be solved Herbert, who was deeply engaged ina game of checkers with his younger sister, at the other end of theapartment, suddenly announced: "Rose, here is Mr. Galton coming acrossthe street, making directly for our house. "

"Oh, dear!" was the very inhospitable exclamation of its prettymistress. Then as she caught an amused glance from Allan's eyes, sheadded demurely, "I am so glad. "

"Perhaps it would be better for me to go. " The words escaped withobvious reluctance. 

"Better for which of us?"

"For both, I think. "

"Your charities are conducted on too large a scale. Now, if you couldonly content yourself with benefiting _one_ of us you would remain. Ihave a dread of that man. "

"So have I, but from a different motive. As your dread increases, minegrows less. "

Close analysis and consideration of this fact gave a very becomingtint to her cheeks as she welcomed the entering guest. "Ah, MissRose, " he exclaimed, "blooming as ever, in spite of wintry days. Doyou know I came very near going past your door?" He allowed theannouncement of this providentially averted calamity to sink deep intoher heart, while he bowed to Allan. 

"This is an unexpected pleasure, " murmured the young lady, withsufficient formality to prevent her words from being dangerouslyinsincere. 

"Unexpected to you and a pleasure to me?" queried the gentleman, witha keen glance at the pair, whose _tete-a-tete_ he had evidentlydisturbed, "or do your words bear reference to the idea of seeing megoing past your door?"

The amount of truth in these very good guesses startled the girl towhom they were addressed into an uncomfortable sense of guilt. "Howcan you accuse me of anything so horrid?" she said, drawing her chairnot far from him, and looking into his face with the appreciative airand attitude that are not to be resisted. 

"Mr. Galton, " said Herbert, who, having completed the game, andvanquished his sister, could afford to turn his attention to thefrivolous conversation of his elders, "do you know what Rose saidwhen she saw you coming? She said, 'Oh, dear, I am so glad!'"

"Herbert, " implored Rose, crimsoning under these carefully reportedwords, and fearing that Mr. Galton, not being aware of the motivewhich prompted them, would not know whether to be ecstatic orsarcastic, "you are a terrible boy!"

"Herbert has done me a great kindness, " exclaimed the flatteredgentleman, who considered Rose's embarrassment quite natural, and verypleasing under the circumstances. "All my doubts of a welcome he hashappily removed. "

In the fear that these doubts might unhappily return if he wereallowed to continue conversation with a too-confiding younger brother, Rose devoted herself with nervous intentness to his entertainment, andsucceeded brilliantly. Fragments of laughter and chat drifted acrossto where Eva was trying to persuade Allan into playing checkers. 

"Just one game, please, Mr. Dunlop, " pleaded the little damsel, inresistless accents. 

"If you but knew what a wretched player I am, " said the young mangloomily. 

"Oh, _are_ you a wretched player?" she exclaimed brightly, "I am soglad. Then there is some chance for me. " She added confidentially, "Iam even more wretched. "

"I hope you may never have the same reason to be, " said Allan, with ahalf-suppressed glance at the lively pair near the window. 

A lover, from his very nature, must be decidedly unhappy or supremelyblest, and it is scarcely to be expected that perfect felicity canreign in a heart whose pretty mistress is spending her smiles onanother man. Allan did not believe that Rose really cared for Mr. Galton--he had seen too many proofs to the contrary--but he didbelieve that she was giving that objectionable gentleman every reasonto think that she did care. With how many men did she pursue thiscourse of action, and was he to believe her guilty of carelesscoquetry? Upon how many admirers may a rose breathe perfume and stillkeep its innocent heart sweet for its lover? These were the questionsthat rankled in his mind, while Eva set the checkers in place. 

"Perhaps I can keep you from getting a king, " she said exultantly. 

"If I can only keep my queen, " observed the young man absently. 

"Why, Mr. Dunlop, there are no queens in this game; it isn't likechess. "

"There! you see how little I know about it, " was the regretful reply. 

Despite this painful manifestation of ignorance the two combatantsappeared for a while to be very equally matched. Then the advantagewas clearly on Allan's side. His king committed frightful havoc amongthe scattered ranks of the enemy, till suddenly, as he observed thepainful stress of attention and warm colour in the face of his fairlittle foe, a strange and unaccountable languor fell upon his troops. They seemed to care not whether they lived or died, while theirshameless commander, surveying them with anxious countenance, gavevent to his emotion in such ejaculations as, "Dear me!" "Why didn't Isee that move?" or, "The idea of your taking two men at one jump!" Atlast the announcement that he was completely vanquished was joyfullymade by Eva, and incredulously listened to by Herbert, who viewed hissister's opponent with amazement, not unmingled with pity. 

"The battle is indeed lost!" Herbert said, quoting the historic wordsin a consolatory way; "but there is time to win another. "

"I'm afraid not, " said Allan, rising and preparing to depart. 

"I wish that you could have won the game, too, " said Eva, suddenlystricken with remorse in the midst of her good-fortune. 

"You are a very kind little girl. I can depend on you to consider myfeelings. "

The accent, ever so slight, upon the "you" aroused Rose's attention. "Why, you are not going?" she exclaimed, coming towards him. 

"Such is my charitable intention, " he replied, smiling with sad eyes. 

"I was only waiting for you to finish your game before bringing Mr. Galton to the fire to talk politics with you. "

"That is a warm topic, and a warm place. "

"Perhaps Mr. Dunlop fears that we shall quarrel on the subject. Youknow we are on different sides, Miss Macleod. "

"We shall hardly come to blows, I think, " returned Allan, with thelook of bright good-fellowship which made him a favourite with bothpolitical parties. 

"The idea of your quarrelling with anybody!" said Rose, as sheaccompanied him to the door. 

"I may have a very serious disagreement with him some time, " repliedher jealous though unacknowledged lover, "but it will not be aboutpolitics. "

He ran hastily down the steps, unconsciously brushing againstCommodore Macleod, who favoured him with a bow of about the sametemperature as the weather. Muttering a hurried excuse, he went oninto the cold gloom of the early winter twilight, shivering slightly, not from the chill without, but from the deadlier chill within. 'Whata pompous unbearable old fellow the elder Macleod was. How could heendure to have him for a father-in-law? Ah! how could he endure notto have him?' The fear that he might never stand in a closerrelationship to a man for whom he had so little liking lay heavilyupon him. 

That same evening the object of these mingled emotions laid adetaining hand upon the shoulder of his pretty daughter as she bent tobestow a bed-time kiss upon his grizzled moustache. "I wish to have alittle conversation with you, my dear, on a serious subject"

"Oh, but Papa, " replied the spoiled girl, "I am not at all in aserious frame of mind. "

"It is highly probable that you will find yourself so at the end ofour talk. "

"Charming prospect! After such an inducement as that I can't resistany longer. " She sank back into a low chair near a great case ofbooks, for they were sitting in the cosy library. 

"I met young Dunlop coming out of the house as I was coming in, " beganthe Commodore. "I was sorry to see that. "

"I was sorry to see it, too, Papa, but he couldn't be persuaded tostay longer. "

"That is not a very respectful answer to give to your old father;nevertheless, I am glad to hear it, as it assures me that you have notreached the point when his absence will leave you sad. "

"Oh, no! But I am willing to admit that over Mr. Galton's departure Idid come very near shedding tears--of joy. "

"I hope my little girl will have no cause to shed any other kind. "

"His little girl" endeavoured to look oracular as she replied: "Thatwill largely depend upon the nature of the information you are aboutto communicate to me. "

"It is only a request, my dear! I wish for your own sake that youwould have as little as possible to do with that young Dunlop. "

There was an appreciable interval of silence. Rose stared hard at thefire. Her father added, "Of course, I do not wish you to do anythingunreasonable. "

"I am sure of that, " said the girl softly, "nor anything unkind. "

The gentleman stirred a little uneasily in his chair. "You mustremember, " he said, "that the greatest unkindness one can do anotheris to encourage false hopes in him. "

"How would you like me to treat him?"

"Oh, my dear child, I can't tell. You know perfectly well yourself. Bepreoccupied, absent-minded, indifferent, when he comes. Make himrepeat what he says, and then answer him at random. Look as though youhad a thousand things to distract your attention, and treat him asthough he were the chair on which he is sitting. "

"And you think that would be an ample and delicate return for thecountless kindnesses shown me by himself, and his people last summer?"

"Oh, hang himself and his people!" was the Commodore's mental comment. Aloud he said, "Well, the young fellow could hardly leave you toperish under the horse's heels. What he did was only common decency. "

"Then, perhaps, it would be as well to treat him with common decency. Don't you think that desirable quality is omitted from your course oftreatment?" Her tones were those of caressing gentleness, but theflame of the firelight was not more red than the cheek on which itgleamed. 

"Why, bless me, Rose, I don't want you to give him the cut direct. There is no need to put him either in paradise or the inferno. Betteradopt a happy medium. "

"Yes; but purgatory is rather an unhappy medium. "

"Well, my dear, I have nothing more to say. I suppose it is naturalthat you should set aside the counsel of a man who has loved you fornineteen years in favour of the attention of one who has known youabout the same number of weeks. "

"Papa, you are unjust!" The repressed tears came at last, but theywere dried as quickly as they dropped. 

"Can't you understand, " he continued in a softened tone, "that I wouldwillingly give him anything in return for his kindness--except myeldest daughter?"

"That is a gift he would never value. A society man might do so, butthe idea of a young fellow of talent and energy and ambition andbrains looking at a little goose like me!"

The Commodore laughed. "No doubt it would be a great hardship for himto look at you; but young men of talent, ambition and that sort ofthing are not afraid of hardship. In fact they grow to love it. So youthink he would not value the gift?" He laughed again very heartily. 

"I am perfectly certain, " declared the young girl, with impressiveearnestness, "that he will never stoop to ask you for it. "

"Then there is nothing more to be said, " replied the Commodore, withan air of great relief. "The whole question could not be moresatisfactorily settled. You are my own loyal little girl and--and youdon't think me a dreadfully cross old bear, do you?"

She went straight to his arms. "How can I help it, " she asked, withher customary bright smile, "when you give me such a bearish hug?"

But alone in her room, the smile vanished in a tempest of fast-comingtears. There was a reason for them, but she was unconscious of itthen. Later she discovered it to lie in the fact that in her heart ofhearts she was not a "loyal little girl" at all, but an "out and outlittle traitor and rebel. "

CHAPTER XII. 

A KISS AND ITS CONSEQUENCES. 

It was late afternoon in a Canadian midwinter day. Cold and still, with a coldness so intense that the blinding brightness of the sunmade no discernable impression on the densely packed snow, and with astillness absolutely undisturbed by any slightest breath of blusteringwind. Before the early twilight came, Rose Macleod, wrapped in fursfrom dainty head to well-booted feet, ran lightly down stairs, tappingsoftly at the library door on the way. 

"I am all ready, Papa, " she said, illumining the room for a momentwith a pair of dark blue eyes and crimson cheeks. "Don't you think itwill be a beautiful night?"

"Very beautiful, and cold enough to kill an Esquimaux. I confess itwould be a pleasure to know that in a few hours you would be safeunder the blankets instead of junketing over at Madame DeBerczy's. "

"I shall be just as safe under the buffalo robes, just as warm, and agreat deal happier. "

"Very well; be off then. By the way, how many are in your party?"

"Oh, nearly a dozen at least. "

"Then there is a possibility that you will not all perish. Tell thesurvivors to report themselves here as early tomorrow morning aspossible. "

There was a sound of bells and a mingling of merry voices as asleigh-load of young people drove up to the door, and waited for Roseto join them. "Delays are dangerous, " observed Edward, as his sister, after opening the door, was suddenly stung by the reflection that shehad not taken a last comprehensive view of herself in the glass, andturned to the hall mirror to rectify the omission. 

"Particularly, when it is below zero, " said another. 

"What is she doing now?" patiently inquired a third. 

"Airing the hall, " responded a girlish voice. "Oh, no, she is reallycoming! Rose, " she called, "come and sit by me. "

"No, there is more room here, " said another voice; while still anotherexclaimed, "I have been keeping such a cosy little corner here foryou. "

She stood in smiling hesitancy a moment, when her hand, from which shehad removed the glove in order to adjust an unruly hair-pin, was takenby another hand, firm and warm and gloveless, and she was drawn almostunconsciously to the side of its owner. It was Allan Dunlop who hadthus taken summary possession of her, and incurred a little of herdignified displeasure. 

"You left me no room for choice, " she said in a slightly offendedtone. 

"I beg your pardon, I was thinking only of leaving you room for aseat. "

She was silent. It was very difficult to keep this young man at adistance, when there was such a very little distance between them, andyet she must be true to the promise tacitly given to her father. Shemust be cool, indifferent, uninterested. "It isn't a matter of anyimportance, " she said absently. 

"I'm afraid it is to me, " he continued in a lower tone, "I knowscarcely a soul here, and declined Edward's invitation to join you onthat account. "

"Oh, it is very easy to become acquainted with a sleighing-party. " Shegreeted the two young ladies on the other side of him, and introducedhim to them. They were refined, attractive-looking girls, but they hada fatal defect. They absorbed social heat and light instead ofradiating them. It seemed as though they might be saying: "There, now, you got us into an unpleasant situation by inviting us here, and it'syour duty to make us happy; but we're not having a good time at all, and we'd like to know what you're going to do about it. " Allan did thebest he could, not half-heartedly, for he was accustomed to dothoroughly whatever he attempted, and his success was marked. Thosegrave girls, who, heretofore, had always seemed to be haunted by somereal or fancied neglect, were in a gale of semi-repressed merriment. The mirth was infectious, and as the horses flew over the frozen road, the gay jingle of bells mingled happily with the joyous laughter ofyoung voices. Poor Rose, whose natural love for society and capacityfor fun-making had induced her to set very pleasant hopes upon thissleigh-ride, found herself, much to her surprise, the only silent oneof the company. With Allan's gracefully unconcerned personality on oneside, a middle-aged lady of rather severe aspect--the matron of theparty--on the other, and just opposite a pair who were very agreeablyand entirely engaged _with_ as well as _to_ each other, all means ofcommunication seemed to be hopelessly cut off. It was really veryunreasonable for Allan to act in this way. He was saving her thetrouble of treating him badly and keeping him at a distance; but, strange to say, there are some disagreeable duties of which one doesnot wish to be relieved. If it were possible to be overwhelminglydignified when one is buried shoulder deep in bear and buffaloskins--but that was out of the question. 

The clear crystalline day began to be softly shadowed by twilight. Behind them lay the town, its roofs and spires robed in swan's-down, while on all sides the fallen logs and deep underbrush, the levelstubbles and broad irregular hollows, and all the vast sweep of darkevergreen forest, melting away in immeasurable distance, was adazzling white waste of snow. In the bright moonshine it sparkled asthough studded with innumerable stars. Above them was a marvellouslybrilliant sky. 

Suddenly, under a group of trees that stretched their ghostly armsacross the roadway, the cavalcade came to a full stop; and Edward, whowas driving, looked round with a face of gloomy foreboding at themerrymakers. 

"What is the matter?" demanded half-a-dozen voices. 

"We shall have to go back, " announced the young man, with a look offorced resignation. 

"Go back!" echoed the same voices an octave higher, "why, what hashappened?"

"Nothing, except that Rose ought to take another look at herself inthe hall mirror. There is something fatally wrong with her appearance. "

"About which part of my appearance?" demanded the young lady, who wastoo well acquainted with her brother to be at all surprised ordisturbed by anything he could say. 

"I don't know, I'm sure. Perhaps its the _tout ensemble_. Yes, that'sjust what it is. "

"Do drive on, Edward, and don't be ridiculous. It's too cold todiscuss even so important a subject as that. "

"I am sure you must be suffering from the cold. " It was Allan whospoke, turning round to her in a tone of quick, low tenderness. 

"Not in the least!" Every small emphatic word was keen and hard as apiece of ice. Then, in the white moonlight, she confronted somethingthat made her heart sink, it was the unmistakable look of mentalsuffering, a look that showed her that he at any rate was sufferingfrom the cold--the sharp stinging cold of a winter whose beginning waspressing bitterly upon them, whose end, so far as they could see, wasdeath. 

The mansion of Madame DeBerczy sent out broad shafts of light throughits many windows to welcome the latest addition to the brilliantthrong already assembled in its ample interior. Madame herself wassuperb in a regal-looking gown that became her aristocratic oldcountenance as a rich setting becomes an antique cameo. Her statelyrooms were aglow with immense fire-places, each holding a smallcart-load of hissing and crackling wood, the reflected light gleamingbrightly from the shining fire-irons, while a number of brasssconces--the picturesque chandeliers of the past--polished to thesimilitude of gold, were softly shimmering overhead. The beautifulEnglish furniture of the last century, artistic yet home-like; the oldworld cabinets, covered with surface carving, solid yet graceful inappearance; tiles, grave and cheerful in design, set into oakenmantel-pieces; peacock coloured screens, and ample crimson curtains, edged with heavy silken borders of gold, all lent their aid tobrighten and enrich the rooms that to-night were graced by some of thebest society from Upper Canada's; most ambitious little town of York. Mademoiselle Helene, beautiful in a blush rose gown, with a fewstar-shaped flowers of the same shade in her silky hair, was themagical living synthesis of this small world of warmth and colour inthe eyes of her lover. These eyes were more than usually brilliantfrom his long ride in the keen air, and the yellow locks upon thesmooth white brow were several noticeable inches above the heads ofthose around him. As he walked down the crowded rooms, in enviableproximity to the blushing dress, his handsome face and half careless, half military air drew the attention of more than one bright pair ofeyes. 

"Rather a pretty boy, " commented a pompous-looking gentleman, patronizingly. 

"But entirely too fair, " was the disapproving response of the criticalyoung lady beside him, whose own complexion and opinion were certainlyfree from the undesirable quality she referred to. "Of course, a pinkface is attractive--in a doll. "

"Then the daughter of our hostess escapes the imputation of beingdoll-like. "

"Oh, she is quite too overgrown for that. It's a pity she has thatpeculiar complexion through which the blood never shows. "

In another group, an enthusiastic young creature whispered to hermother: "Mamma, do notice Miss DeBerczy's face; white as a cherryblossom, and her lips the cherries themselves. Isn't she just likea picture?"

"Yes, dear, " drawled mamma, adjusting her eye-glass with an air ofrendering impartial justice, "like a very ill-painted picture. Whydon't she lay on her colours a little more artistically?"

"Oh, she doesn't lay them on, they're natural. "

"Well, Lena, you should not be so quick to notice and comment uponnatural defects. Not one of us is free from them, and it isuncharitable and unkind to make them the subject of remark. "

Thus silenced and put in the wrong the young lady ventured nothingfurther. 

"Edward, " said Helene, later in the evening, "really you ought todance with somebody else. There are dozens of charming girls here. "

"Which dozen did you wish me to dance with?"

"Don't be nonsensical, please. Haven't you any preference?"

"Oh, decidedly, yes. " He glanced at a _petite_ maiden, whose figureand movements were light and fairy-like. "But I'm afraid she wouldrefuse me. "

"I don't think she would. "

"That isn't sufficient. My vanity is painfully sensitive to thesmallest danger of slight. "

The fairy-like person had unconsciously assumed an appreciative, notto say sympathetic, expression. Helene smiled. "Your fears are verybecoming to your youth and modesty, but I think I may go so far as tosay I am sure she will not refuse. "

"That is joyful news. " Another set was forming, and he rose with handextended to Helene. "You said you were sure she would not refuse, " heresponded to her look of blank amaze; and then, as she yielded to theirresistible entreaty in his eyes, he murmured softly, "How could youimagine I had any other preference but you?"

"One imagines a great many strange things, " she replied. "Once Ifancied that you preferred an Indian girl. "

"_How could you_!" he repeated with intense emphasis. All that part ofhis life seemed vague and far away as though he had dreamed it in someprehistoric period of his existence. It refused to take the hues andproportion of reality. Yes, that was nothing but a wild fantasticdream--the sort of dream from which one wakes with a wretchedly badtaste in the mouth. This rare girl, with the flower-like curves andcolours, was the only reality. And yet, was she reality? Her dress, wreathed flame-like from warm white shoulders to satin shod feet, layin rich glowing lengths upon the waxed and polished floor. Herbeautiful head, too heavily weighted with braids and coils of ravenblackness, swayed slumberously upon the dainty white neck, and hecould not tell whether he better liked to see the dark lashes lyingupon her cheeks or uplifted to reveal the magical eyes beneath. He wasvery much in love. The soft intoxicating strains of music went to hishead like wine. He was powerless to struggle against the thrillingillusion of the hour. When the others returned to their seats orpromenaded the brilliant rooms they escaped alone and unobserved intothe conservatory. Here they beheld the greatest possible contrast tothe desolate wintry waste without. The air was heavy and languorouswith the odour of tropic flowers. The music, almost oppressive in thecrowded parlours, melted deliciously upon the ear as they wanderedaway. Helene, when she noticed that they were quite alone, suffered avague alarm. She told herself in one moment that it was not possiblethat Edward would choose this opportunity for a formal declaration ofhis love, and the next moment she reminded herself that impossiblethings are the ones that frequently come to pass. The idea, like anill-shaped burden, pressed uncomfortably upon her. 

A maiden's heart, like a summer night, knows and loves its own secret. All through the mysterious deep hours of sleep it holds the secretclosely wrapped in darkness, pure as the dew on the grass, innocent asthe little leaves in the forest, glorious as the countless stars ofheaven. Some time, and soon enough, the dawn will come. Then the starswill pale before a glory more intense, the countless little leaves, like delicate human emotions, will wake and stir, and the white mistsof maidenliness will be warmed with heavenly radiance. But aftersunrise comes the day--the long prosaic day of duty and denial, ofwork and its rewards, of sober, plain realities. Why should the nightof mystery and beauty hasten towards the common light? Her beingthrilled under the first faint approaches of the dawn, and yet--yet alittle longer, oh, ardent, impetuous, all-conquering Sun! It seemed asthough the girl's very soul were pleading. The rich-hued, fragrance-laden flowers in the sweet dim place bent their heads tolisten, but her impassioned lover paid no heed to the unspoken prayer. The sense of her beauty--of her unsurpassable charm, mingled with thevoluptuous music--pierced his heart with insupportable pain. Could shenot feel his unuttered love? Her lily-like face was cool and pale, butin that warm-coloured robe it seemed as though her very body blushed. In leaning over to reach a peculiar flower that attracted herattention, a little wave of her gown rested upon his knee, and itseemed to his infatuated vision that the insensate fabric throbbed aswell as glowed from the momentary contact. Helene kept up a continualflow of small talk, of which he heard not a syllable. Rising hurriedly, her long train caught in a low branch that stretched across the walk, and he bent to extricate it. 

"How is it that you dare to touch the hem of my garment?" she demandedlaughingly. 

"Oh, I can dare more than that, " he cried. The conviction that sheloved him, as indeed she did, gave him a sort of desperate courage. Hetook her in his arms and held her close, kissing her passionately onlips and eyes and soft white shoulders. She neither moved nor spoke, but stood, when he released her, confronting him with a sort offrigid, fascinated stare. "Oh, what have I done? Helene, " he exclaimedtremblingly. "I thought you loved me. "

"_I_?" she questioned with haughty disdain, "_love_?" she demandedwith incredulous contempt, "_you_?"

The concentrated fires of her wrath and scorn were heaped upon thisfinal monosyllable. Every word was a fierce insulting interrogation. Surely the traditional "three sweet words" had never before beenuttered with such tragic effect. She stood before him a living statueof outraged pride, clothed in a fiery robe of righteous indignation;then she turned and passed out of his sight, leaving the young man tohis reflections. 

They were bitter enough in all truth. He still cared for Helene, heloved her as he loved himself. But it is only fair to add that he heldhimself in the very smallest estimation. He had acted like a drunkenfool. How would he like any man alive to treat his little Rose in thatstyle? But then she might have behaved reasonably about it. She hadtrampled on his heart, and left it sore and bruised and bleeding. Verywell, he was not a child to cry out when he was hurt. He went back tothe gay throng, and saw, as in a cruel dream, the girl who despisedhim scattering profuse smiles upon others. No matter! Nothing couldpossibly be of any importance now. Rose was making her way with somedifficulty towards him. How wan and tired she looked. Was it possiblethat any one besides himself was suffering? The idea was absurd. 

"Isn't it time for us to go, Edward?" she said. "Madame DeBerczy hasinvited our party to remain over to-morrow, but I promised papa not todesert him any longer than was strictly necessary. " Edward found theproposition a most welcome one. They could not leave Oak Ridges toosoon, nor remain away from it too long. 

His sister's drooping little figure attracted the attention of Helene. "Do you talk of going?" Helene asked. "Well, so you shall go--to bed;and the very first bed we come to. " She bent caressingly over thelittle golden head of her friend. Their beautiful arms wereinterlinked. Rose glanced irresolutely at her brother. 

"You will need to put on the extra wraps you brought, " he said, "as itis particularly cold at this hour of the morning. " Helene was ignoredutterly. He did not seem to know that she was present. The proud girlwas wounded to the quick. She was not visible at their leave-takings. When every one was gone she went away upstairs, telling herself atevery step that she hated, hated, Edward Macleod; that he was in allthings and in every way detestable. She did not weep nor bewail. Thetears showed as seldom in her eyes as the blood in her cheeks, and herpride was of the inflexible sort that scorns to relax when itspossessor is alone. She dropped into a heavy troubled sleep, anddreamed that she was solitary in a frozen land, whose only sunshinewas the golden head of her lover. In the strange fantastic manner ofdreams he seemed to be a very little child, whose light warm weightlay along her arms, close to the heart above which he had pressedthose burning kisses. It was bitter cold; but the whole scene was likea picture of winter. She could not feel it--she could feel nothing butthe aching of her own heart, the warm breath growing ever warmer, andthe clinging hands, clinging ever closer, of the child she loved. Thesense of delicious languor changed to a feeling of heaviness--almostsuffocation. Every golden hair of the head upon her breast pierced herlike a ray of brightest sunshine. Hastily putting him from her shefled away with the wintry winds, herself as wild and swift andsoulless as they. But presently coming to look for the child, andunable to find him, she realized that he was lost, and then she woke, trembling with deep, tearless sobs. 

"What is it, my dearest?" called Madame DeBerczy from the next room. 

"Nothing, mother, dear, but a troubled dream. "

"Ah, it is the excitement of these late hours. Try to sleep again. "

But Helene could sleep no more. A few days later she heard that EdwardMacleod, with a party of friends, had gone on a shooting expedition tothe Muskoka country. 

CHAPTER XIII. 

RIVAL ATTRACTIONS. 

The current of a strong human affection, when it is thrown back uponitself, must find vent in another direction. The weakest stream ofpassion, when its chosen course is impeded by an immovable obstacle, does not sink by gentle degrees into the earth, and thus, lost tosight, become merely a thing of memory. There is disturbance anddisorder; banks are overflowed; and fields, once made fruitful andbeautiful by the softly-flowing river, lie sodden and unwholesome, flooded by the dangerous waves. For days and nights Edward's brain wassurging with the sound of rushing waters. The tumultuous feelings sostrongly excited, so completely overthrown that evening in theconservatory with Helene, would not subside. They beat upon hisdesolate heart in great waves of rage, remorse, despair, and love, like the beating of lonely waters upon a shipwrecked shore. 

Hence it was that he welcomed the idea conveyed in a letter from afriend in Barrie that they, with another boon companion, should gohunting in Muskoka. Edward wrote an immediate agreement to theproposition, mentioning Pine Towers as the place most convenient forthem to meet and lay plans for future action. He at once madepreparations to depart, for the idea of delay was intolerable to him. The very atmosphere of the town was poisonous--the demands of societynot to be tolerated. He told his family that his old longing for thewilds had come upon him, the sort of _ennui_ that nothing but theodour of the woods could cure. The close of the day following foundhim on the frozen shores of Kempenfeldt Bay, now clasped in the icyarms of winter. The wind was wild among the leafless trees along theavenue, but the desolation of his home was a visible response to thesorer desolation of his heart. 

The two or three old servants remaining in the lonely house weredelighted to see the young master home again. Olympia, the colouredcook, whose high-sounding cognomen was usually reduced to Olly, gavehim a welcome equal to what might be expected from a whole plantationof darkies. Her eyes and teeth shone in perpetual smiles, her gailyturbaned head and dusky hands gesticulated in perfect time to theexclamations poured out upon him. 

"Well, my soul!" she cried; "well, my soul! Marse Ed. , its good to seeyou home again. Come in, chile, come right in! How mis'able you dolook to be sure. Just like a ghost, so cold and white. Shan't I mixyou a little something warm?"

"Oh, no, Olly, I'm all right; just a little tired after my longjourney, that's all. "

She recognized the lifelessness in his tone, the jaded look and air ofone who is fighting a hard battle in the face of sure defeat. "You'ssick, honey, " she exclaimed, with the ready sympathy of her race, "andyou's come back to old Olly to take care ob you. Dat's right, chile, I'll just mix you a little warm--"

"Oh, dear, no, Olly, thank you; its comfort enough just to be quietand to be at home. "

She left him in the parlour, but he pushed on after her into the greatfire-lit kitchen, partly because he detested the society of his ownthoughts, partly because it suited his present mood to be made much ofby the kindly old woman, to whom his mother all her life had been a"chile. " It was almost like being a boy again to sit in the chimneycorner and tell old Olly the story of his journey in all its details. But before the recital was half-finished, something stirred in thesemi-darkness, on the other side of the fire-place. 

"Why, bress my heart, " said Olly, "I t'ought you was a dog, Wanda, yousat dat quiet. What's de matter wid you, gal? Whar's your manners?"

The graceful shrinking figure would gladly have escaped out of sight, but at the sound of her name Edward came forward to greet the Indiangirl. Olly, with many muttered protestations against the rudenessshown to her young mahs'r, lifted the trap-door, and vanished downcellar. The pale life-weary young man was alone with the sweet womanlysavage. 

He held the little hand she offered him very closely and kindly. 

"Are you glad to see me, Wanda?" he asked. 

That was the keynote of his mental state. He was not glad to seeanyone or anything, but he was still interested to know that someonecared for him. In his present mood it was certainly more pleasant tofeel that others were kindly disposed towards him than that they wereindifferent. The Algonquin maiden, on her side, was filled with a softdelicious emotion. In the summer, when this daring young man pursuedher, she repulsed him; but in the winter, when he left her, shethought of him. The natural result of her meditations upon sofascinating a subject it is not difficult to conjecture. She began tobelieve in the reality of his regard for her, and to fancy that he hadleft her because of her harshness, of which he had frequentlycomplained. Now, could it be possible that his coming had anything todo with the thought of her? Yes, she replied, she was glad to see him;her blushing beautiful face gave eloquent testimony to the fact. Hereleased her then, and followed Olly into the dining-room, where asmall but sumptuous repast was laid, for nothing in the house abovenor in the cellar beneath was considered too good for young mahs'r. "You'd be sprised, Marse Ed. , " confided the old woman, "de improvementmade by dat chile since I took her in han'. It jus' went agin mystomach to see her runnin' wild, widout a frien' in de worl', ceptdose heathen Injuns. She t'ought a heap ob yer mudder, an' I could'nttell her 'nough about her. Dat gave me a holt on her, you see, anddars no denyin' she's changed a lot since las' summer. "

"Tell her to come in here, " said Edward, "and I'll judge for myself. "

So in a few moments she came in, though with obvious reluctance, andtook the chair that Edward placed for her at the table. It was a novelexperience to the young man to find his wishes so implicitly obeyed bythis hitherto almost unapproachable girl. He felt disposed to exercisethis wonderful newly-acquired authority. "You must eat something, Wanda, " he observed; "I dislike to eat alone. "

This was the sharpest test that could have been applied to theimprovement he wished to discover, but the girl's incomparable nativegrace never failed her. It was impossible that she should eitherlounge in her chair or sit stiffly erect in it. Her use of knife andfork was marked, not by awkwardness but by extreme deliberation, andcareful observation of the manner in which Edward wielded his own. Shewore a dark grey dress, which he dimly remembered to have seen on hissister Rose, and which that young lady had altered to fit theAlgonquin girl. The entire absence of colour in the dress intensifiedby contrast the rich hues of cheek and lip, and the deep blackness ofeyes and hair. The only detail of her appearance which displeased histaste was the strings of cheap glass beads wound about neck and waist. Was there a vein of cheapness and vulgarity in her character tocorrespond with this outward manifestation? He believed not. It was soeasy to believe everything that was good of this shy sweet personage. He examined her narrowly and critically in the new and remarkable_role_ she was compelled to play as the guest and equal of himself. There was a surprising almost ludicrous similarity between the nativeunconsciousness and dignity of the Indian and that of certainhigh-bred dames whereof he knew, and yet there was about her theunmistakable something that proved her wholly unversed in the ways ofsociety. Her dainty hands were very brown; her manner without beingconstrained was certainly not easy; and her expression was that of abird, one moment resigned to imprisonment, the next panting forliberty. In one word she was untamed. But was she untamable? His heartbeat faster at the thought. When the tea things were removed he threwhimself upon the couch; while the girl, sitting before the blazinghearth, took between her hands and drew upon her knees the slenderhead of his favourite hound. They made a striking picture, and theblue, beauty-loving eyes of the spectator looked longingly upon it. The dark lovely face bent forward seemed more childish in its softcurves since the capacity to love and suffer had wakened in herbreast. Her sweet lips trembled with repressed feeling. 

"Wanda, " said Edward, "don't waste caresses on that unthankful brute. He doesn't need them. "

She looked at him with wide startled eyes. "Come to _me_, " he breathedin resistless accents. "Ah, Wanda, you pitied me once when I had ascratch on my hand. Can not you pity me now when I have a sword in myheart?"

It was not love that called her; it was the despairing cry of one whowas perishing to be loved. She rose after a moment, steadying herselfby a hand on the chair-back, for her beautiful frame was swayed byirresolution, love, shame and pride. Slowly, very slowly, with thesweet uncertain footsteps of a baby that fears to tread the littledistance between itself and the waiting irresistible arms of love, shecame towards him. It seemed at every moment that she must break awayand fly, as she had flown from him in the woods of summer. When shereached his side her proud head fell, then the drooping shoulders bentlower and lower till the uncertain knees at last failed her, and shesank trembling on the cushion at his side with her arms about hisface. It was the attitude of protection, not that of a weak cravingfor it. The fierce pain for which he asked her pity could arise fromnothing else but his love for her. This was the reasoning of thesimple savage--a reasoning that reached the hitherto unsounded depthsof passion and pathos in her nature. The young man, who bore in hisheart a bitter recollection of the scornful repulse offered by onebeautiful girl, could not resist the matchless tenderness so freelygiven by another. He laid his face wearily against her arm, and shebent over him murmuring words of uncontrollable love and pity. 

Afterwards he asked himself what in the name of all the powers of evilhe meant by it; but this was some days afterwards. A long trampthrough the frozen woods in search of game had brought him a singlewild animal and a great many sober thoughts. In the rough log house inwhich he and his companions were camping for a week, there was neitherroom nor opportunity for private meditation; but the conviction cameto him with the luminous abruptness of lightning that he had used thisignorant girl merely as a salve for his wounded vanity, and cruellydeceived her by so doing. Not that his early passion for the Indiangirl had died a natural death. On the contrary it had been fanned intofresh flame by the novel charm of her sweet approachableness. None theless, but rather all the more clearly, he saw the detestableselfishness of his own course. But, unfortunately, his tenderness forher kept pace with his self-contempt. His feelings toward Helene andWanda at the present moment were just such as a man might entertaintoward the enemy who had conquered him, and the woman who, in hisgreatest need, had succoured and saved him. For the one a bitternessthat could not rise to the crowning revenge of forgiveness, for theother a passion of gratitude that would last a life-time. 

"It appears to me, " said Ridout, who was the most outspoken of theparty, "that we have a precious dull time of it in the evenings. Macleod, here, is about as talkative as the deer he has slain. "

The trio had been smoking in silence before a huge fire, but thisreference to Edward's great exploit of the day roused them toconversation. 

"It is no unusual thing for Macleod to distinguish himself in thatdirection, " said Boulton, the elder of the two. "He has long beenknown as the champion _dear_-killer. "

This wretched attempt at a pun was loftily ignored by the subject ofit. 

"Alas, 'tis too true!" mourned the other. "Come, Ned, try to beentertaining for once; tell us about the pretty Indian girl you weremooning with. "

"What did you say?" demanded Edward, freezingly. 

"You heard perfectly well what I said. "

"What do you mean by it?"

"Oh, I _mean_ the pretty squaw you were _spooning_ with, if that suitsyou better. "

"Gently, Tom, " interposed Boulton parenthetically, "don't mention_all_ the meanness you mean. "

"I would like to inquire what right you have to mention any of it, "exclaimed Edward wrathfully. 

"Oh, none--none, whatever. Only it was town talk in Barrie last Fallthat you had become infatuated with the sweet little squaw to such anextent that your charming sister, with commendable prudence andforesight, had you put out of harm's way as speedily as possible. There's no accounting for such reports. "

"I don't understand it at all, " said Edward, with mingled anger andhumiliation. "How can people be so silly?"

"Exactly what your slanderers inquired of each other. Impossible totell what they meant. " The young man laughed rather disagreeably as hewent off to bed. 

"Look here, Ned, " said Boulton, bringing a sympathetic hand down uponhis friend's shoulder, "don't you take any notice of what Tom Ridoutor any of his set may say. Of course every young fellow makes a foolof himself _some time_, in _some_ direction; it's natural and proper, and just what is expected of him. All is he shouldn't make a completefool of himself, and nobody believes that of you. "

"Ugh!" said Edward, and relapsed into gloomy silence, from which heawoke to find himself alone, with the candle sputtering in its socket. He took off his boots, and threw one of them viciously, but withunerring aim, at the expiring light, and so went despondently to bed. 

"Our fair friend appears to be quite as susceptible to the remarksmade upon his wild-wood acquaintance as to the wild-wood acquaintanceherself. " This was the observation of Ridout, as he and Boulton wentthe following morning to investigate the trap they had set. 

"Don't be a fool, Tom, " said Boulton, with a perfectly unruffled faceand tone, "that is, any more of one than you can help. Of course everyyoung cub like you is expected to be one to a certain extent, but whatI mean is don't be a _big_ one. "

It was impossible to be angry with words so placidly spoken. "I don'tknow what can make you so wondrous kind to Macleod, " said Ridout, "unless it is a fellow-feeling, and I wouldn't have thought that ofyou, Boulton. But look here, " surveying the empty trap with boyishdisgust, "nothing taken in but ourselves! Well, we'll have to make itunpleasant for Tommy. That's the only comfort left us. "

Tommy was the coloured boy, who was cook, housekeeper and generalfactotum for the three. When ill-luck overtook them it was felt to besome slight compensation to be at liberty to make it unpleasant forTommy. But one day, towards the end of their self-imposed exile, itstormed so heavily and incessantly that they were compelled to remainwithin doors, and here Tommy's unfailing good-nature deprived theabuse with which he was heaped of all its power to charm and console. On the principle which governs the selection of a victim by theshipwrecked and storm-beaten remnant of a crew at sea, there wasnothing more natural than that Edward Macleod should fall a prey tothe general famishing desire for amusement. Boulton had been idlyhumming the air of an Indian love-song, in which Ridout joined aloud, substituting the name of Wanda for that of the ideal heroine. As thesentiment of the song was of the most languorous and 'die-away' sortit was impossible that the two men should abstain from mingling theirsmiles. The conclusion of the singing was followed by a few remarksfrom Ridout, one of which provoked a shout of uproarious laughter. Fora moment Edward's face was alive with intense suffering; the next ithad paled and hardened into marble-like rigidity. 

"I wonder if either of you are aware, " he said, with cold distinctnessof utterance, "that the subject of your conversation is to be my wife. "

Tom Ridout stared a moment in unbelieving amazement, and then blushedto the eyes. "I beg your pardon, " he stammered, "I never thought--Ididn't dream--" He broke down completely, unable to grasp thestatement that shed such a different light upon their idle talk. Boulton was not subject to fluctuation of emotion, and there was novisible manifestation of a change in his feelings. The match he struckwhile Edward was speaking went out. He reached for another; it alsowent out. 

"It seems to me, " he said mildly, taking his unlighted pipe from hislips, "that these are the worst matches I ever saw. "

Ridout had recovered some of his usual self-assurance. "It seems to_me_, " he declared boldly, "that it's the worst match I ever heardof. "

"Worst or best, " said Edward, with dogged resolution, "it will benecessary for you to speak of it with respect--in my presence. "

This seemed to be the end of the matter; but Boulton, who had at lastgot his pipe agoing, could not forbear offering a few final words onthe subject. 

"It's all right, Ned, " he remarked, in his gentlest and kindest tones, "perfectly right and natural that a young fellow should make a foolof himself. That's exactly what's expected of him. But it isn'tnecessary that he should make an _everlasting_ fool of himself. Not--strictly--necessary. "

Edward rose and left the room. 

To leave the room in a region upon which unpicturesque prosperity hasnot yet descended is equivalent to leaving the house, and that isexactly what the young man did. Of course there was a loft above thatwas reached by a perilously steep pair of stairs; but he was not a curto creep away into a kennel. He went out and battled with the pitilessstorm, a fiercer storm beating within his breast than that which ragedwithout. The crazy words he had just uttered were not spoken simply tostop the idle talk of his companions; they were the ultimateexpression of the thoughts over which he had brooded for days past. Helene was dead to him, and her mocking ghost haunted the desolatechambers of his heart, filling them with scornful laughter. But nowupon the door of this wretched habitation had timidly knocked anotherguest--a guest of blooming and throbbing flesh and blood. Should hedeny her admittance? Unlearned was she as one of the shy birds of theforest, but then she was eminently teachable. If his love for hercould not be called a liberal education was it not something better?Was it not a liberal and lasting joy? After all, what did women know, any way? A few miserable half-learned accomplishments, the aggregateof which did not amount to so much as the eagle's feather on the proudlittle head of his darling. Yes, he dared to say it--his darling! Hepictured her in winter as sitting by his side, before the fire, thedelicate head of his pet dog encircled by her arm; in summer theywould roam in blest content together through the endless forests ofthis beautiful new world. 

And so with all his doubts triumphantly set aside he returned to thehouse, and during the remainder of their stay his continued flow ofexuberant good spirits seemed to confirm the rightfulness of hisconclusions. On his way back to York he stopped a few hours at his oldhome, for the sake of a brief stolen interview with Wanda. She met himwith little low murmurs of tenderness and joy, and parted from him asa girl parts from the man in whose love she has absolute confidence, for whose sake she would willingly die. 

When he reached home, his appearance of high health and persistentoverflow of liveliness were ascribed by his family to continuousout-door exercise, nor did they dream that the sweet fever anddelirium of love was upon him. Rose gave him an anxious glance or two, but poor Rose had trouble enough of her own. That cold night at theOak Ridges, which had completely killed Edward's hopes with regard toHelene, had cast a light but lasting frost over her own. It had beenpainful enough to avoid Allan, but it was no less painful to bedeprived of that privilege. The truth was he had given her very fewopportunities to put into practice the course of treatment recommendedby her father. Had she been the heroine of a novel there wouldinevitably have been misunderstandings of the most serious andcomplicated character. But she was mortal, and withal a verytender-hearted little maiden, and the secret of her cold tones andwistful glances, though for a while it sorely puzzled Allan, was atlast divined by the sure intuition of love. They met frequently atvarious social gatherings, but it was as though a solid sheet of glassintervened between them. Through this apparently impalpable mediumthey could see, and smile, and speak, but no tender touch of palm, orbreath of love, or thrill of quickened heart-beat could be feltbetween. How many times had Allan Dunlop been tempted to outstretchhis hand and shatter this glassy surface! It were easily done but atthe price of possible sharp pain and aching wounds, and the greaterhorror of seeing the sweet grieving face on the other side shrink awayfrom him, startled by the shock. No, he would bide his time. And so, while his eyes grew hollow, his close shut lips remained veryresolute. Love _can_ wait (though waiting is the hardest task everassigned it), but only on condition that it is given the food it needs. 

Allan kept his love alive on glimpses of sunny hair, and sad littlesmiles, and fragments of talk, that, light and conventional as theymight seem to chance listeners, were to him clothed with lovely hiddenmeanings. Sometimes when the eyes met by chance the small warm handsplucked nervously at the flowers she carried, or there was a restlessconsciousness in step and glance, or a scarcely perceptible quiver ofthe curved lip, or a piteous droop of the regal little head. Veryslight things were these, yet out of them Memory and Imagination madea sumptuous feast, at which Love, like a starveling prince in exile, sat down with never sated appetite. 

CHAPTER XIV. 

MUDDY LITTLE YORK. 

If the course of true love could be persuaded to forsake its ancientuncomfortable method in favour of a single harrassed lover, surely thetrials of Allan Dunlop might soften its harsh turbulence, and move itto a gentler flow. Rose was devoted to her father, and the tie betweenthem, made stronger by her mother's death, was not of a nature to beaffected by the sighing breath of a mere lover. Then she was aslovable as she was lovely, and there was nothing in the cordial likingof a host of friends to encourage the growth of any morbid desire forthe affection of a poor and insignificant outsider. There were otherinsurmountable points on the mountain chain of circumstance that laybetween him and his heart's dearest wish. The Commodore's inherentreverence for birth and breeding, and his comparative indifference tobrain, was one of them. The obstinate pride of Allan's undistinguishedand ambitious self was another. 

Of all sorts of pride the sort that goes with inferiority, not ofperson, or behaviour, or talents, but of mere social position, is themost inveterate. This unreasonable feeling was the mightiest of allthe obstructions that, mountain-like, lay between them; but on itsrough sides--flowers on an arid rock--grew the yearning affections, seemingly rootless, yet continuing to bloom in secret, scarcediscovered beauty. Of what use was it, he asked himself in bitterness, to brood over these impassable barriers, to cultivate a faith in thepower of his own affection strong enough to remove them, to cherishthe vain imagination that this incomparably sweet girl and his ownplain self were made for each other, and that no earthly obstaclecould suffice to separate them? Upon his soul had fallen the edict ofsociety, "What man hath put asunder let no higher power join together!"

And so he hardened his heart and closed his eyes to the heavenlyvision of girlish beauty and purity that shone forever in the upperskies of his consciousness, as clear as the star of evening, andalmost as far away. But tears flow as easily beneath closed lids aswhen the eyes are wide open, and to the hardest heart come moments ofreverie, of sudden waking from sleep, or involuntary lapsing into daydream, when, like a sword in the heart, comes the thought of one toodearly loved. Do his best he could not escape these moments ofexquisite torture. The poem he was reading fell fantastically into thetune of the last waltz down which he and Rose had drifted together. The prose--and very prosy--work he impatiently seized in the hope ofbanishing that witching melody from his brain, simply followed theperverted feet of the poem. Down the dull page danced the meaninglesssyllables, keeping time to the delicious strain in a way that wassimply appalling to a mind whose intellectual processes were, as arule, thoroughly well regulated. If he walked the street there wassmall chance but that some half-turned head or fluttering robe amongthe women he met would remind him of the sweetest head and prettiestdrapery in the world. 

Always along the misty aisles of his consciousness sped this littlelovely vision, now hasting, now delaying, now bending with meltingtenderness toward him, now mockingly eluding his grasp, never out ofsight, never within reach. No wonder he grew pale and heavy-eyed and_distrait_. But no one of those who noticed that he ate little andspoke little, and walked with weary footsteps, knew that he was ahaunted man--haunted not by any pale spectre, but by veritable fleshand blood, gold crowned, pink tinted, and illumined by the bluest eyesthis side of the blue heavens. It is useless for those who aretroubled in this way to say they _will not_ be haunted. Celestialvisits are planned with reference to anything but the convenience oftheir recipient. 

Allan Dunlop was spoken of as 'a pushing young man, ' but in affairs ofthe heart he did not push--he simply waited. Not that he had any faithin the so-called beneficent influences of time--for what young loveris willing to believe that the slow drag of months and years over hispassion will crush all life from it at last?--but he had the delicacyof nature which forbids the gross intrusion of personal wishes anddesires upon unwilling ears. He had, besides, a spark of thatold-world loyalty which is prone to uphold the claim of the father inthe face of despairing aspirants for the daughter's hand. 

This unwillingness to take an advantage, or to push it when it wasthrust upon him, was not without a certain allurement for Rose. Shewas accustomed to be sought after; but the man who unconsciouslyoccupied a higher place in her estimation than any by whom she wassurrounded, held himself aloof. Probably he despised her and thefrivolous society in which she moved. It was a depressing reflection, for the regard of those whom we believe to be our superiors isinfinitely more precious than the adoration of those who are not. 

To the lover, as to the good general, the knowledge of when not toapproach is of inestimable importance. Scarce are the girls upon whosehearts a tender impression can be made in the middle of an ordinarywork-a-day forenoon, or who can give sigh for sigh immediately after ahearty dinner. Very few are those who, at all times, are equallyapproachable and appreciative. Allan's stern, self-denying course ofaction, to which he considered himself forced, could not have beenbetter chosen had he had nothing at heart but the aim of furtheringhis own interests. In Rose's imagination he had always formed anadmirable contrast to the purposeless, objectless young men of heracquaintance, and his wise withdrawal after he had roused herinterest, she interpreted as indifference. So let it be, thought theyoung lady, assuming a feeling of entire content. But assumed feelingsare not lasting. She who had been the life of society now grew veryweary of it. She yawned secretly in rooms of entertainment, orinvented lame excuses for her non-appearance there. "I can't thinkwhat is the matter with me, " she said to herself. "I never cared forsolitude, and I don't now; but I care less for common people andcommonplace talk. "

It was perfectly consistent with this state of feeling that, on one ofthe most disagreeable of all disagreeable March days, she should goout alone for a long walk which had no definite direction nor object. There was a certain satisfaction in matching her restless mood withthe restless weather, in feeling herself now gently buoyed along, nowalmost lifted up and borne away on the strong wings of the rushingwind. Great soft flakes of snow were falling, and yielding up theirheavenly purity at the first touch of earth, and the dull sunless day, weary of its own existence, was with seeming relief dying into night. Rose walked very fast without being aware of the fact. It is apeculiarity of windy weather that it begets a mental exaltation, inwhich even the clumsiest body seems to partake of the immortal energyof the soul. Rose's trim figure moved as softly and swiftly as asail-boat before the wind. Nevertheless it was with a feeling ofdismay that she found herself at the edge of night and far from home. She had been dreaming as she walked, and now--the usual fate ofdreamers--she found herself abruptly brought face to face with reality. The big flakes were still falling, the wind still urging her forward, as she turned to retrace her steps. But now progress became difficult. The wind was in her face, and the snow blinded her eyes. She hadturned so suddenly that the broad-shouldered, heavily-coated youngpedestrian, who had been following in her wake, was astounded to seeher, with down-bent head, swiftly advance and abruptly fling herselfupon him with an impetuosity born of sightless but determinedresistance to the rampant breezes. The next instant, with a movementequally impetuous, and a deeply drawn "oh!" she swept aside and lookedstraight into the eyes of Allan Dunlop. "I didn't know it was you, "she murmured, her cheeks turning to flame beneath his gaze. 

"No, you usually treat me with more _hauteur_. I never expected you tomake all the advances in this way. "

"Oh, shameless!" exclaimed Rose, clasping both daintily gloved handsfirst to her ears, then to her eyes. Then, mockingly, she responded, "I never expected to find you so approachable. "

They were very glad to meet again. They did not say so, but whatnecessity existed for the verbal expression of a fact so apparent inthe face looking down and in the face that for more than a moment at atime was unable to look up. She laid her hand within his arm, and theyfaced the storm together. "What were you doing at this end of thetown?" she asked, fearing he would make the same inquiry of her. 

"Following in your footsteps, " he replied. "I was not sure who it was, but your gait reminded me so much of yourself. "

What light words to make a little heart beat faster! The wind wouldhave blown them away if she had not caught them. 

"Ah, yes, no doubt a moving spectacle, but, " glancing at the roughpavement which had grown worse and worse, until in pure self pity itcame to an end, "I'm afraid that for the last half-hour I have led youa hard life of it. "

"It was hard--very. This side-walk is a disgrace to the town, and itusually has a depressing effect on me to be out in windy, uncertainkind of weather, but I think"--the wind blew an end of her long silkenscarf caressingly about his neck--"I think it was worth while. "

In his heart he added, "Little darling, what rough road would I nottravel in pursuit of you, if only you would turn at last to throwyourself in my arms. "

They walked on for a little in silence. When love looks out of theeyes, and hesitates on the lips, and trembles in the arm that feelsthe confiding pressure of a tiny hand, it seems as though words were acrude, primitive method of communicating ideas. Nevertheless, sostrong is the power of habit, that there are few who can resist theimagined necessity to talk if one feels like it, and make talk if onedoes not. So presently Rose remarked upon the beauty of the town. Evenin his love wrapt state the idea struck Allan as slightly absurd. 

"Where do you find it?" he asked in amused perplexity, looking at thelittle wooden houses and shops, the meagre beginnings of a city thatas yet had no time to be beautiful, and noted the vile mud with whichthe streets were thickly overlaid. "Though, of course, " he added, "there is scarcely anything to be seen save darkness, and that elementis strictly necessary to an appreciation of the beauties of 'MuddyLittle York. '"

"Oh, " exclaimed Rose, "don't you see the lights flashing in thewindows, and in every little muddy pool on the street? Think of theconcentrated life in these little human nests set against the vastwilderness. Look at those faint yellow rays mingling with the slantinglines of snow, with the deep woods and dark sky in the distance. If itisn't beauty it is poetry. "

Her foot slipped a little on an unexpected piece of ice, and his armfelt the momentary pressure of both hands. "It is everything heavenlyyou can mention, " said Allan devoutly. 

He noticed the slight instantaneous withdrawal, and was impelled to bepractical, if possible; so he began to dilate at length upon thefuture glories of York. "This will be a great city, some day, " he said. 

"Possibly, but who loves greatness? People may say what they pleaseagainst muddy little York. To me it is dear because it is so little. "

"Yes, there is an unexplainable charm in littleness. " He glancedthoughtfully down at the dainty figure beside him, while Rose wonderedif it would be possible for her to make a remark to which he could notgive a personal application. It was impossible for them to walk on insilence, as though this were a lover's idle stroll. Her face warmed atthe mere fancy. No, she must e'en try again. 

"Particularly when it is a little breeze, " she said. "Now, a huge, awkward, overgrown affair like this changes what ought to be a caressinto an assault. "

"Yes; but you brave little creature, how blithely you face it. I wishI could shelter you from the storm. I wish I could defend you from allthe storms of life. "

His voice broke, and the girl felt as though her heart would burst. Nobold, imperious, master spirit was this, demanding her love and lifeas if they were his by natural right. It was as though she had beennewly roused by a faint knock at the door; and now, before her footwas set upon the stair that led down to the entering guest, he hadturned away again. 

"I like your way of meeting the tempest, " he continued. "You face itfor a moment with mocking defiance, then you step aside to escape afierce gust, or turn your head to avoid at least half its violence. You seem to be coquetting with old Boreas. For me, I can't play withthe foe; I simply have to meet him and fight him till my strength isexhausted--then rest till I can get breath--then up and at it again. Do you remember those old lines:

 "'A little I'me hurt but not yett slaine, I'le but lye down and bleed awhile, And then I'le rise and fight againe!'"

"Oh, heaven help me, " thought poor Rose, "what _can_ I say now? Thereis nothing in the world to say. " She fell to crying bitterly, as shesafely could under cover of the snow and the darkness; but after aminute she controlled herself, and was, to outward appearance, tranquil and buoyant as before. 

They had reached the house. He stepped inside the warmly-lighted halljust for a moment, as Rose, with a gesture of dismay, threw off herwraps, and disclosed an inappropriately elaborate little gown, partially soaked by the storm. "I suppose I need not have put onanything so fine as this to go out in on a wet day, but I am fond ofdressing, not for others, but for myself. I prefer feeling effects toproducing them. Do you think me very selfish?"

"Oh, yes; everything that is hard, unfeeling, and unlike your sweetlittle self. "

She had already mounted a few steps of the stairway, as he had said hecould not stay. His outstretched hand held hers in a last good-by, butinstead of going he touched a fold of the damp edge of her gown. "Itis very wet, " he said. "You are shockingly careless. " And then, without daring to meet the divine eyes bent upon him, he lifted herhand reverently to his lips, and so went forth into the night and thestorm. 

"Rose, " said the Commodore, interrupting her at the head of thestairs, "who is it that has just gone?"

"Mr. Dunlop, " said his daughter hesitatingly; "he overtook--he met--Imet him on my way home, and he came with me. " The young girl's facewas a flame, and her heart was a song. She felt that she wasaggressively, barbarously happy, and tried to modify the unrulyemotion out of deference to her father's anticipated anger. He lookedextremely annoyed. 

"I am sorry to seem arbitrary, " he said, "but in future, my dear, itwill greatly oblige me if you will so conduct yourself towards thatyoung man as to discourage him from meeting or overtaking you, oraccompanying you home. "

"Very well, Papa. " Not a ray of light faded from her eyes, not aparticle of warmth from her smile. She had heard him make similarremarks before, and they affected her the same as if he had said: "Itis yet winter; don't be deceived into supposing that spring-time iscoming. " Ah! but under the snows of winter, what power can hinder thecountless delicate roots of spring flowers from thrilling into life?

CHAPTER XV. 

POLITICS AT THE CAPITAL. 

But more was destined to burgeon into blossom than the flowers ofspring. Allan Dunlop's fame as a politician had grown concurrentlywith the growth of his love. In the Legislature he had won for himselfa prominent position, and was known as a sagacious counsellor, apersuasive speaker, a ready and effective debater, and a good steadyworker on Committees. No name carried more weight in Parliament thanhis, and his influence in the country was as marked as was hisinfluence in the House. This was as readily conceded by his politicalopponents as it was claimed by his friends. He had, moreover, aprepossessing manner, a comely presence, and a countenance which, whenanimated, was not wanting in expression or fire. He was, withal, themost modest and lovable of men; and had he not sat on the Oppositionbenches he would have been courted by the Tory supporters of theGovernment and been fawned upon by the leading members of "The FamilyCompact. "

Allan Dunlop had, however, entered the House as a radical, but of amoderate type; and though he dealt the Executive many trenchant blows, and did yeoman service in advancing the cause of Reform, he was tooloyal a man to rank with the "heated enthusiasts" who were threateningto overturn the Constitution and make a republic out of the colony, and too judicious and right-minded to affirm that the Administrationof the Province was wholly evil and corrupt. On the contrary, while heinsisted that the Executive should pay more deference to the voice ofthe Parliamentary majority, and so avoid the ever-cropping-upconflicts between the Administration and the popular Chamber, herecognized the fact that the evils complained of had their origin indefects in the Act which gave the Province its Constitution; and beingengrained in the paternal system of government that had long been invogue could not possibly be at once and satisfactorily remedied. 

It was true that in none of the other Provinces was power so firmlycentralized in the hands of a dominant and exclusive class, as was thecase in Upper Canada. But this state of things, Allan Dunlop conceded, was a legacy from the period of military rule which followed theConquest, and the natural consequence of appointing members to seatsin the Executive and Legislative Councils _for life_. Dunlop was alsowell aware that the social condition of the Province, at that earlyperiod, tended to centre power and authority of necessity in the handsof a few leading men. All the public offices were in their gift; andthe entire public domain, including the Crown and Clergy Landreserves, was also in their hands. Hence it was that through thepatronage at their disposal the "Family Compact" were enabled to fillthe Lower House with their supporters and adherents, and, in largemeasure, to shape the Provincial Legislation, so as to maintain theirhold of office and perpetuate a monopoly of power. That the rulingoligarchy used their positions autocratically, and kept a heavy handupon the turbulent and disaffected, was true; but their respect forBritish institutions, and their staunch loyalty to the Crown, at atime when republican sentiments were dangerously prevalent, werevirtues which might well offset innumerable misdeeds, and square theaccount in any unprejudiced arraignment. 

But though Allan Dunlop possessed a mind eminently fair and judicial, and, Reformer as he was, could dispassionately discuss the "burningquestions" of the time, there were abuses connected with the mode ofgoverning which he stoutly strove to remedy, and injustice done toloyal settlers in the iniquitous land system that prevailed whichroused his indignation and called forth many a bitter phillipic in theHouse. These trenchant attacks of the young land-surveyor were greatlyfeared by the Executive, and were the cause of much trepidation anduneasiness in the Legislative Council. 

For a time Commodore Macleod, who had now returned to his accustomedduties in the Upper House, took pleasure in replying to Dunlop'sattacks in the Lower Chamber; but the young Parliamentarian, though hetreated his opponent with courtly deference, had so effective a way ofdemolishing the Commodore's arguments and of genially turning theshafts of his invective upon his adversary, that he soon abandoned theattempt to break a lance with his young and able antagonist. Dunlop'stemper was habitually sweet and always under command, and this gavehim a great advantage over his sometimes irascible opponents. Hismanner, however, was at times fiery--especially when exposing cases ofhardship and injustice, when his arraignment of the Executive wasvehement and uncompromising. But the "Family Compact" was at theperiod too firmly entrenched and buttressed about by patronage forAllan Dunlop to effect much reform in the system of government, thoughhis assaults were keenly felt in the Upper House, and they made apowerful impression in the country, which heartily endorsed the youngland-surveyor's strenuous appeals for the redress of long-existingabuses, and the concession of Responsible Government. 

"What a noble fellow that young Dunlop is!" said Lady Sarah Maitlandto her escort in the House, as the youthful tribune closed animpassioned appeal on behalf of settlers from the United States, whohad been subjected to great hardships and outrage by the tools of theGovernment. 

"A pestilent rascal!" was the testy rejoinder of the old Commodore, who, with his daughter Rose, had accompanied her Ladyship on the dayin question to the House of Assembly. 

"Nay! you shall not say that of him, Commodore, for I mean to invitehim to accompany us to Stamford Cottage at the close of the Session, if he will give me that pleasure, " said Lady Sarah, warmly. 

"Sir Peregrine will have something to say to that, Madame, " was theCommodore's blunt reply, "and Mr. Attorney-General, here, " he added, "ought to arrest you for wishing to consort with seditious agitatorsand evil-disposed persons. "

"I think I ought to take you both into custody, " interposedAttorney-General Robinson, "for spoiling with your quarrel the effectof young Dunlop's speech. It was admirable, both in tone and matter, and I shall at once look into the grievances he complained of. Don'tyou think, Miss Macleod, that your father is unreasonably prejudicedagainst the member for your section of the Home District?"

"I think him everything harsh and unpaternal when politics is thesubject of conversation, " replied that young lady guardedly. 

"Ah! politics is an unclean game, " observed the courtly leader of theHouse; "but it would be vastly sweeter and cleaner were all ourpoliticians of the type of Dunlop. I think him a grand fellow--but, Iagree with you, Commodore, that he should be on the other side. "

"Or we should be on _his_ side, Mr. Attorney-General, " said LadySarah, with a meaning glance at Rose Macleod. 

At this juncture, the Attorney-General, having to address the House, took leave of the ladies, and the Government House party rose and leftthe Chamber. 

Later in the day, the Attorney-General took occasion to refer toDunlop's speech, and to commend its temperate and courteous tone, though the matter his young friend brought to the notice of theGovernment, said the Attorney-General, if true, severely reflected onthe management of one of the Departments, which, the speaker added, he would take care at once to inquire into. 

Other matters occupied the attention of the House for the remainder ofthe afternoon, and when the Speaker rose to retire a buzz ofconversation ensued on the stirring topics to be brought up at theevening's sitting. Two of these topics related to matters which, atthe period, convulsed the community, and threatened to overthrow thefabric of society in the colony, if not the Constitution itself. Onewas the case of Captain Matthews, a member of the Assembly, who wascharged with disturbing the tranquillity of the Province by requestingthe orchestra, at the theatre of York, to play sundry seditious tunesat the close of an entertainment, and thus inferentially to paydisrespect to His Majesty's crown and person. The other was theescapade of a number of young people in York, of respectable standing, who had committed a gross breach of the peace in breaking into andransacking the printing-office of Wm. Lyon Mackenzie, smashing thepresses of that martyr to Reform, and throwing into the lake the typewhich had been used in setting up some pungent articles against theGovernment. 

"Behold how great a matter a little fire kindleth!" the moralizingbystander of the period might have observed, as he took note of theelectrical condition of the political atmosphere of York, and, indeed, of the whole Province--the result of the indiscretion of one man, andthe partisan frolic of half a dozen lads, who had inherited, with thebluest of Tory blood, the prejudices of their fathers. The wrecking ofthe Mackenzie printing-office was, of course, a serious conspiracyagainst the peace of a youthful and law-abiding community. But it willoccur to the modern reader of the transaction, that the act wasscarcely so heinous as to bring it before the country's legislature, and become the subject of a grave Parliamentary inquiry. 

The act has to be viewed, however, in the light of preceding events, and with a knowledge of facts in the thrilling drama of Reform, at thetime being enacted on the political stage of Upper Canada. Society inthe Province was long wont to poise itself between two opinions, as tothe degree of justification for the course which Reform took at thetime of the Gourlay agitation, and which, in Mackenzie's day, culminated in rebellion. The issues of the conflict have, however, settled that point; and though Tory bias loves still to stand by the"Family Compact, " the popular sympathies are with the actors who werewhilom outlawed, and on whose heads the Crown did them the honour, fora time, to set a high value. 

Chief among these actors, at the time of which we are writing, was hewhose printing-presses had just been ruthlessly demolished, and whosefonts of type youthful Torydom had gleefully consigned to the deep. The provocation had been a long series of intemperate newspapercriticism of the Government, numerous inflammatory appeals to thepeople to rise against constituted authority, and much scurrilousabuse of leading members of the "Family Compact, " who wished, as asafeguard against revolution and chaos, to crush the "patriot"Mackenzie, and drive him from the Province. But though thorny as wasthen the path of Reform, and galling the insult and injury done to itsmartyrs, Mackenzie did not shrink from pursuing the course he had cutout for himself; and his intense hatred of injustice, and sturdydefiance of those whom he held responsible for the maladministrationof affairs, gained him many adherents and sympathizers. The outragethat had just been committed on his property vastly increased thenumber of the latter, while popular indignation compelled theGovernment to disown the act, and to make it, as we have seen, thesubject of Parliamentary inquiry. From the Parliament the matter wentto the Courts, and there the scapegraces, who had been concerned inthe outrage, were mulcted in a large amount, which their parents, highgovernment officials, had ruefully to pay over to the aggrievedprinter and incipient rebel. Thus ended one act in the drama of thesedistraught times. How shall we keep our countenance and deal with theother?

Let us first tell the story, as we gather it, in the main, from theJournals of the House. For some time previous to the meeting of theLegislature, in 1826, partisans of the Administration had got in thehabit of noting defections from the loyal side among men of substanceand position in the colony, and particularly among members of therepresentative Chamber, where the cry for Responsible Government waswaxing loud, and where sullen protests were almost daily heard againstthe system of official patronage and favouritism that prevailed in thegovernment of the Province. The Administration being now in theminority in the popular Chamber, and "the long shadows of CanadianRadicalism" having begun to settle upon the troubled "Family Compact, "it became important to note the increasing defections, real orfancied, in the Legislative Assembly, so that, if possible, the"bolters" might be coaxed or bribed back, or, failing that, that theymight, in some way, be jockeyed out of the House and made to sufferfor their defection. Among those who had recently taken the bit intheir teeth was a Captain Matthews, a retired officer, in receipt of apension, who represented the county of Middlesex, and had of late goneover to Democracy. For this act he was "put upon the list, " and becamea marked man on the mental tablets of the myrmidons of the Executive. 

About this time there came to York a company of strolling actors fromthe neighbouring Republic, whose fortunes were at a low ebb, and whosedignity had very much run down at the heels. To revive their fortunes, they gave an entertainment in the extemporized theatre of the town, under the kindly proffered patronage of the members of the Legislature. It was New Year's Eve, and the fun--the age was still a bibulousone--waxed fast and furious. At last the curtain dropped, and themodest orchestra struck up "God save the king!" Hats were at oncedoffed, and from among the standing audience came a loud but unsteadyvoice, calling upon the orchestra to "play up" Hail Columbia! orYankee Doodle. 

The sober section of the play-house was stunned. Was it possible thatDemocracy could go to such lengths--within sight of the "royal arms, "over the Lieutenant-Governor's box, and with the decaying notes of thenational anthem in Tory ears?

It was but too true. Again and again rose the shout for the seditioustunes. Abashed loyalty sought to escape from the house, but the crowdjostled and intervened. The scene now became uproarious. AffrightedConservatives were seen to jam their hats on their heads--the onlymark of disapproval possible--and glare defiance at those who impededthe exit. The Tory member for Stormonth--it was afterwards admitted inevidence--stripped his coat and threatened to knock any two of theopposing Radicals down. Meanwhile the orchestra, unable to accomplishthe higher flight of "Hail Columbia!" struck up the commoner and moreobjectionable tune; and three grave legislators, it is said, dancedwhile "Yankee Doodle" was played. The Democratic orgie at last spentitself with the music, and after a while all breathed the outer, communistic air of heaven. 

After the racket comes the reckoning; and Captain Matthews, whoseshare in inducing the play-house fiddlers to discourse republicanmusic to monarchical ears was reported with due exaggerations andaspersions on his loyalty, to the military authorities, speedily foundhimself the victim of an infamous plot. Distorted accounts of thescene at the theatre had been sent to the Commander of the Forces, atQuebec; and the member for Middlesex was specially singled out as theseditious rioter on the occasion, and the leader in what was termed "adisloyal and disgraceful affair. " Presently there came an order forCapt. Matthews to report himself to the military authorities atQuebec, and at that port to take ship for England, where he was to betried by court-martial. To enable him to obey the summons it was firstnecessary to obtain leave of absence from the Legislature; and themotion that was to come up in the Assembly that evening, was, whetherthe House, on the evidence before it, would agree to release theincriminated officer from his Parliamentary duties so as to face thefrivolous charge at the "Horse-Guards" in London. 

The discussion opened by the presentation to the House of the reportof the Committee of Inquiry that had sat upon the matter--a reportwhich exonerated Captain Matthews from the charge preferred againsthim, and relieved him from the scandalous accusation of disloyalty. The report closed with a protest against the tendency, on the part ofthe Government, to resort to espionage and inquisitorial measures, inendeavouring to rid the Province of those obnoxious to the rulingfaction, and in attempting to undermine the independence of theLegislature by scandalizing its members and awing them into politicalsubserviency. The conviction was reiterated that there was no groundfor the charge against Captain Matthews, the malignity and falsity ofwhich was due to political hostility to that gentleman. 

A lively debate ensued on the motion to receive the report, members ofthe Government fiercely objecting to its reception by the House, andthe Opposition as warmly insisting on its acceptance. The temper ofthe Government was not improved when young Dunlop rose, and, in a fewquiet and well-chosen words, asserted the right of Parliament toprotect its members from officious military arraignment on frivolousand vexatious pretexts. It was the duty of the Government, remarkedthe young tribune, to calm, not to augment, the fever of popularexcitement by acts of an arbitrary and autocratic character, --such asinstigating ridiculous prosecutions, and casting doubt on the loyaltyof men who had long and faithfully served the Crown, and whose onlyfault was to set their country above their party. 

That the existence of Upper Canada as a colony of the Crown--Dunlopcontinued--was imperiled by paying some exigent actors from the otherside of the line the compliment of calling for a national air dear torepublican hearts and ears, he did not for a moment believe. He was, at the same time, he affirmed, keenly sensitive to the beguilingeffects of enlivening music, and--falling into a lighter vein--heconfessed that he did not know what might be the consequence if themembers of the Government organized themselves into a well-trainedminstrel troupe and entered the neighbouring Republic singing thepathetic airs of the Old Dominion, artfully interspersed with thesoul-stirring strains of the "British Grenadiers" and "Rule Britannia. "He thought, moreover, that if the grave and reverend seigniors of the"Family Compact" would blacken their faces as they had blackened theirhearts, and "star" it through the lowly hamlets of the Province, singing, say, the Jacobite airs of a previous generation, it would domore to cement the attachment of Canada to the Crown than all theefforts of the combined army of officials, placemen, and henchmen ofthe Government _plus_ the Judges, the Sheriffs, the Recorder, theIncumbents of fat Clergy Reserves, the Gauge's, Tollmen, Hangmen, Customs Officers, Turnkeys, and Landing-Waiters. 

Seriously, Allan Dunlop added, --and he had no apology to make forindulging in levity in discussing this frivolous matter--it wasbeneath the dignity of the House to occupy itself with the furtherconsideration of the charges against the honourable member forMiddlesex. These charges were so trivial and ill-founded, and theyoriginated in such a trumpery fear lest the Crown should sufferindignity where indignity was in no wise offered to it, that he beggedthe House to dismiss the matter forthwith and refuse Captain Matthewsleave to absent himself from his Parliamentary duties. After ascattering fusilade of small talk from both sides of the House, thereport of the Committee was received, leave was refused, and thedisturbing question was laid at rest. 

Those who have followed, it may be with interest, this veracious pieceof history, and are curious to learn the fate of the honourable memberfor Middlesex, will find the story graphically told in Mr. Dent's"Canadian Rebellion, " Vol. I. , chap. 6. The authors take the libertyof appending Mr. Dent's closing paragraph: "But though CaptainMatthews, " says the historian, "had been cleared by the Legislature, he had still to run the gauntlet of the military inquisition. Theycould not compel his attendance during the existence of the Parliamentthen in being, but they possessed an effectual means of reducing himto ultimate submission. This power they exercised; his pension wasstopped--a very serious matter to a man with a large family and manyresponsibilities. He continued to fight the battles of Reform withdogged courage and pertinacity as long as his means admitted of hisdoing so, but he was soon reduced to a condition of great pecuniarydistress, and was compelled to succumb. Broken-hearted and worn out, he resigned his seat in the Assembly, and returned to England, where, after grievous delay, he succeeded in getting his pension restored. Henever returned to Canada, and survived the restoration of his pensionbut a short time. Thus, through the malignity of a selfish and secretcabal, was Upper Canada deprived of the services of a zealous anduseful citizen and legislator, whose residence among us, had it beencontinued, could not have failed to advance the cause of freedom andjustice. "

CHAPTER XVI. 

LOVE'S PROTESTATIONS. 

During the rest of the dreary winter the memory of that enchanted walkthrough mire and darkness and driving snow, kept two hearts--Rose'sand Allan's--fully awake. A pity, too; for sleep covers a multitude ofsufferings, and when the most impressible part of our being is wrappedin unconsciousness, we can make shift to go through the world withonly an endurable number of the usual aches and ailments. If theseyoung hearts had ever really slumbered since their owners met for thefirst time, less than a year before, it had been rather an uneasyrepose; and now that they were fully awake, it was to find not theglory of the dawn, but a dark bleak day, whose beginning couldscarcely be distinguished from the night out of which it emerged, whose end was so far--so drearily far away. Things went on as beforein their old monotonous manner. Winter relented into spring, and theintimacy that had warmed almost into acknowledged love that wild Marchevening had apparently died of its own intensity. Rose and Allan metoccasionally, but with mutual avoidance; she from innate loyalty toher father--he from a pride that was too strong to plead. So theendless conflict went on, but not alone in the minds of the lovers. 

The doughty Commodore was daily suffering in his own person the justpunishment, which is but too apt to overtake the man, who in a pointof difference with a woman ends by having his own way. This sternparent liked to think of himself as generous, compassionate, andtender-hearted; and he had been grievously cheated out of thisagreeable sensation. His daughter's absolute and sweet-natured loyaltyto his will sharpened his sense of deprivation. Was it possible thathe was unnatural and tyrannical? The answer to this question was whatRose's pale cheeks seemed to require of him, and he chafed under themute, unconscious, persistent repetition of the query. He recommendedher to take long walks, but she came back from them paler and morelifeless than before. He began to see that it was possible to gainone's own point and lose something infinitely more precious. It hurthim to see her suffer, and he despised himself as the suspected causeof her sufferings. He asked himself how he could have endured it if, in his courting days, he had been shut out from the woman he loved. She was infinitely his superior, he thought with a swelling heart, andthen his arm fell on the back of the chair beside him, and his handclenched, as he grimly wondered what bolts or bars would suffice tohave kept them apart. If she was alive now would she have taken thiscruelly peremptory course with their daughter? He revolved thequestion with a sore heart. It admitted of but one answer. In all hersweet and gentle life his wife had never been either peremptory orcruel. 

Unknown to Rose her father's stout heart showed signs of thawing withthe weather. He began to inform himself warily, and by indirect means, with regard to the character, circumstances, and prospects of AllanDunlop, in much the same way as we make a study of the drug, hithertosupposed to be a poison, but now believed capable of saving the lifeof a loved one. In his present mood of despondency and anxiety itseemed that every fresh fact that he learned served to raise Allan andlower himself in his own estimation. It is difficult to atone for awrong so delicate that one shrinks from expressing it in words, andyet the need of making at least one attempt at reparation was pressingsorely upon him. 

So it was with almost a girlish bound of the heart that the Commodoreread aloud, one morning, in all the polysyllabic glory of newspaperEnglish, an account of the heroic way in which a young child was savedfrom drowning by the prompt and daring action of Allan Dunlop. It wasan opportunity for praising his enemy, and the worthy gentleman wasalmost as relieved and happy as the rescued child. "Upon my word, Rose, " he said, turning to the silent girl at the other end of thebreakfast table, "that young Dunlop is a much finer fellow than Isupposed him to be. "

"Yes, Papa, " she assented meagrely. She had no idea of undoing thework of weeks--the work of steeling herself against the sweetness ofrecollection--by too warm an interest in the subject. 

"The idea of a child paddling about alone in a boat during thathorrible storm, " continued the Commodore, more impatient, if the truthwere known, with his daughter's lukewarmness than with the waifsrecklessness. "Not one man in a thousand, " he continued abruptly, "would have ventured out on Lake Ontario in that raging tempest. "

"People of plebeian origin usually have a well-developed muscularsystem, " remarked Rose. 

"But they are not fond of risking their life in the interest of theirmuscles, " returned the gentleman, annoyed at the girl's obstinacy, nordreaming how sweet from his lips sounded his praise of her lover. 

"It depends upon what their life is worth. Common folks, who sufferunder the well-merited contempt of their social superiors, must growat last to despise what better educated people know to be despicable. "

"No doubt, it is as you say, " replied her father. He was thoroughlyirritated, and all his benevolent notions took flight, as they are aptto do when the object of our philanthropy proves perverse. "I wasabout to suggest that you invite him to your party to-morrow night;but in the present state of feeling perhaps it would be better not. "

"I haven't the least idea that he would come, " returned the girl. "Heisn't the sort of person to allow himself to be taken up and droppedat random. "

"Well, settle it to suit yourself, " he concluded. She reflectedbitterly that this privilege came when it was too late. Nevertheless, she was grateful for it, and scolded herself soundly for giving herfather undutiful replies. She also remarked in the solitude of her ownroom that she did not care a particle whether Allan came or not, andthen with a fluttering heart she wrote him a note of invitation. WhenTredway was requested to deliver it that ancient servitor manifestedso much interest in his errand that the blue eyes of his youngmistress lingered on him a moment in surprise. 

"I am under very great obligations to Mr. Dunlop, " he said. "I may saythat I owe my life to him?"

"You, too!" laughed the girl. "Why it was only the other day that herescued a strange child from the wild waves. "

"He rescued me from the wild woods, " said the man, with theimpressiveness of one who wishes to celebrate the most remarkableescape on record. Tredway had a profound objection to the woods. Inthe previous summer he had, with great reluctance, served ascommissary general to a party of young men, who went in pursuit of aweek's sport to Burlington Bay. Edward and Allan were of the number, and when Tredway was lost on a little expedition of his own, to thenearest shanty in quest of provisions, it was Allan who went in searchof him, and after some difficulty brought him back to camp. The eventhad been a source of some amusement to the rest; but to the mind ofits hero it had lost nothing of its tragic aspect. "The woods arevery confusing to a person of my life and habits, " he observeddeprecatingly. 

"Oh, yes, indeed, " returned Rose, "and so very different from England. "

The gratitude with which Tredway listened to this remark was notunmixed with regret that the tone in which it was uttered was sportiverather than serious. He was consoled, however, by the reflection thatnational differences could not be expected to oppress the heart ofunthinking youth as it did that of sad maturity. 

The unreasoning joy that flamed in Allan Dunlop's face, as he glancedover the dainty note, faded into ashen paleness as he remembered whatits response must be. "Sit down, Tredway, " he said mechanically, "Iwill have an answer ready in a moment. " Grateful to be relieved of thepains of indecision by the necessity for prompt action he took up apen and wrote rapidly:

"DEAR MISS MACLEOD:

It is very hard for me to refuse your kind invitation to be with youto-morrow night, but it is impossible to accept it. If I were invitedto Paradise, 'for one night only, ' with the knowledge that I mustforego my share of its delights thenceforth, I should wish to returnthe same answer. Have I no right to hint that your presence is myParadise? Forgive me for it, and for my rudeness and perverseness, which all arises out of my consuming and indestructible love for you. The only thing I can say that can condone this offence is that I nevercease trying to destroy your image in my heart. So far the results areextremely discouraging; but I cannot resign the hope that Time, thegreat healer, may also prove, like other notable physicians, the greatdestroyer. Ah! what am I saying? I can never say enough to you, andyet already I have said too much. God bless the sweet ruler of my lifeand heart forever, and grant that every ill that threatens her mayfall instead upon the head of her unworthy lover. 

Will you not write me a word of forgiveness for resisting thetemptation to go to you?

 Ever your worshipper, ALLAN DUNLOP. "

He ended with a strange feeling of the incongruity of this declarationof passion with his surroundings, the stuffy unhomelike chambers onKing Street, and the rather severe presence of a man, whose existenceemphasized all the hated social distinction that never weighed soheavily on him as at present. This rigorous representative of hisclass took the message delivered to him, and stood for a momenthesitatingly in the doorway. 

"Your people are quite well, I hope, Tredway, " said Allan. 

"Yes, sir, thank you. Quite well, with the exception of Miss Rose. Sheis looking badly. "

"I am very sorry. I made no inquiries about her, because, since heraccident last summer, she has never been otherwise than well. I wish, "and his tones were sad and sincere as his meaning, "that I could dosomething for her. "

"Thank you, sir. It is taking a great liberty to say so, but yourvisits are so infrequent that I believe Miss Rose is under theimpression that you did not greatly care. "

"Oh, I _care_ enough, quite enough, " he added mentally. "The fact isthere is danger of my caring too much, and nobody knows better thanyou, Tredway, that that would be the greatest piece of folly I couldperpetrate. Miss Rose is vastly my social superior. "

The old man bowed his head as though this were too obvious a truth toneed comment. Then he said encouragingly:

"Ah, there is nothing but the remains of their former greatness leftto the Macleods. They are growing more and more _bourgeois_ sincecoming to this degenerate country. 

"Yes, I imagine that their family dignity, in such times as these, maybe a little out of repair; but I can hardly venture to build vainhopes on the ruins. You are a good fellow, Tredway; good-bye!"

A few days later the coveted answer to his missive came. 

"DEAR MR. DUNLOP:

Since I am to see you no more it seems unnecessary if not unkind of meto write and prolong the pain of parting. But if you were dying, andshould tell me with nearly your latest breath what you wrote in yourletter, I should want you to know that the confession was dear andsacred to me--something I should remember all the rest of my life. 

I am not willing to believe that your future will be wholly bereft ofconsolation. One who is capable of imperiling his life to save that ofan unknown child ought to know that he can never find any bettercompany than his own. But you need never be lonely; I hear your nameand career frequently spoken of with warm appreciation by yourfriends, among whom I hope you will always number

 Yours very sincerely, ROSE MACLEOD. "

"Ah!" ejaculated Allan, as he read and re-read this brief epistle, "she does not despise my love, but she recognizes its hopelessness. "With the usual bluntness of masculine perception he failed to see thatit was impossible for her to ignore what he himself was accustomed todwell upon at such dreary length. If he was profoundly convinced thatthere was no hope, she could scarcely condescend to suggest that theremight be a glimmer. So the young man continued to be wrapped in thedarkness which was largely born of his own imagination. 

"What rank, " he wrote, in immediate response, "shall I assign youamong my friends? One's friend may be simply an acquaintance of longstanding, who cherishes no special animosity toward one, or it may bethe stranger of a year ago, who now is knit into the very fibre ofone's being. Just so closely woven with my inmost self have you grown, dear, and to put the thought of you away from me is like putting myown eyes from me. Do you think I can be trusted as a friend? I foreseethat I shall be the most faithless one ever known, for I have neverbeen your friend, and I don't know how to begin to be one, whereas Ihave had nearly a year's experience in loving you. But I am jestingwith a sore heart. It is strange that I can jest at all; and yet Iknow that I am richer and happier in owning the smallest corner ofyour heart, than if I possessed the whole of any other woman's. "

He wrote a great deal more of the same sort, by turns light, fanciful, woful or desperate. But all this Rose ignored. "I am very glad, " shewrote demurely, "that you are rich and happy on such insufficientgrounds. I could scarcely deny a corner of my heart to any of myfriends, but the rest of them are well enough acquainted with me toknow that the possession is not a source of unmixed joy. This illusionof yours must be destroyed, and, as you will see, my share of thiscorrespondence is going to tend gently but inexorably towards thatend. I still cherish hopes of retaining your friendship. It is so muchmore difficult for a man to be a woman's friend than it is for him tobe by turns her worshipper and oppressor--and you are made to conquerdifficult things, and be made stronger by them. You have admirablequalities--self-forgetfulness, lofty purpose, a will that neverfalters, a heart that never faints. I discovered all these before Ireceived your letters. Otherwise, do you think I would have discoveredthem at all?"

Thus preached this adorable little high-priest of heroic self-denial, and when she had made an end she burst into tears, and wished thatAllan were there to wipe them away. 

CHAPTER XVII. 

A PICNIC IV THE WOODS. 

Winter had passed, and in hot haste--literal hot haste--the time ofthe singing of birds had come. It was early in the season when theMacleods returned to their summer home, but "lily-footed spring" wasthere before them. Earth, air, and sky were bathed in a glory ofsunlight, which strove to penetrate the dark labyrinth of the pinesthrough which the wind sang. The bay was embowered in gleamingfoliage. In its clear waters the Indians plunged or paddled, or lay inattitudes picturesquely inert upon its shores. Above it in gracefulcurves the unwearying gulls were sinking, rising, and wheeling aloft. 

On one of these halcyon days of early summer Rose Macleod wasre-reading a letter from her friend Helene; which, though a mereelegant scrawl in the first place, and now yellow and worn with age, has been with some difficulty deciphered by the writers of thisveracious history. 

"We shall return to Bellevue next week, " she wrote, "though whatpossible benefit can accrue from our returning I cannot pretend tosay. Either home is distasteful to me; so is the rest of the world; soare the people in it. Enviable condition, is it not? I seem to beafflicted with a sort of dreadful mental indigestion. Everything I seeand hear and read disagrees with me, so I suppose it is only a naturalconsequence that I should be disagreeable. Oh, dear, dear! What is thegood of living, Rose? What is the use or beauty of anything? The Rev. The Archdeacon of York half-playfully says I need to be regenerated. Dr. Widmer says my circulation is weak. Poor mamma says nothing; butshe looks a world of reproach. I wish she would take the scripturalrod to me. That would improve the circulation, I fancy; and if itdidn't produce a state of regeneration it might at least be apractical step towards it. But I don't know why I should make a jestof my own misery, when I want nothing on earth except to be a littlechild again, so I could creep off into the long grass somewhere, andcry all my sick heart away. I used to be able to cry when I was fiveor six years old, but now it is a lost art. 

"By the way, speaking of tears reminds me that your friend, Mr. Dunlop, was here last evening, and, while shewing him some views offoreign scenes, we suddenly came across that old, little painting ofyourself, in which the artist represented you as a stiff-jointedchild, with a row of curls the colour and shape of shavings neatlyglued to a little wooden head. You remember how we used to make fun ofit. I always said that picture was bad enough to bring tears, andthere was actually quite a perceptible moisture in his eyes as helooked at it. Who would have supposed that he possessed so muchaesthetic sensibility?

"Well, I am only wearying you, so I will close. Don't be troubledabout me, dear. Sometimes I am violently interested in my ownunreasonable sufferings, and at other times I am wholly indifferent tothem; but nothing can befall my perverse nature that shall alter thetenderness always existing for you in the heart of your loving

 HELENE. "

Rose read all but the concluding paragraphs aloud to her brother, who, standing at the open door, was looking idly out upon the leaf andblossom of a lovely garden. "What a stream of unalloyed egotism!" hesaid. "In a woman it's a detestable quality. "

"Oh, you should say a rare quality, " amended Rose, with a smile thatended in a sigh. 

"Well, it's something that can't be too rare. " A fading spring lilydropped on the doorstep by one of the children received an impatientkick, as though he would dismiss the present conversation in a similarmanner. "Rose, " he said, "I wish you would ask Wanda to oursailing-party to-morrow. "

"Why, Edward, I might as well ask a blue-bird. She will come if ithappens to suit her inclination at the moment, otherwise not. "

"Don't you think a regular invitation would please her?"

"Oh, dear, no; it isn't as though she were a civilized creature. Youdon't seem to grasp the fact that she's only a wild thing of thewoods. "

A pause ensued. "There are other facts, " resumed Edward a littleunsteadily, "that I _have_ grasped. One is that she is the mostbeautiful woman I ever saw; another--that I love her. "

Rose put up her hands as though to save her eyes from some hideoussight, "It can't be true!" she exclaimed. 

"My dear little sister, it is true; and your inability to accept it isnot a very flattering tribute to my good taste. "

"It _can't_ be true, " repeated Rose. "You must mean that you havemerely taken a fancy to her. "

"Well, it is a fancy that has grown to enormous proportions. I cannotlive without her. If that is fancy it has all the strength ofconviction. "

"Oh, Edward, you can't really love her. It is only her beauty that youcare for. "

"You might as well say that the sunflower doesn't really love the sun;it is only the sunshine that it cares for. Wanda's beauty is part ofherself. "

"And it will remain so a dozen, or perhaps a score, of years. Afterthat you will have for your wife a coarse ignorant woman, foreverchafing at the restrictions of civilized life; angering, annoying andhumiliating you in a thousand ways, a woman whom you cannot admire, whom it will be impossible for you to respect. "

Edward's eyes blazed. Not until that moment did his sister realize howcomplete was his infatuation for Wanda. 

"It is you who are ignorant and coarse, " he cried, "in your remarksupon the girl who is my promised wife. No matter what befalls her, shewill always be clothed in the unfading beauty of my love. "

Rose was deeply grieved. She stood with clasped hands lookingdespairingly at her brother. "You poor boy, " she breathed, "you poormotherless boy! What can I say to you?"

"Well, there are a good many things that you can say; but what Ishould prefer you to say would be to the effect that you will break itas gently as possible to Papa. "

"I shall not break it at all, " declared the girl warmly. "It wouldnearly kill poor father. Haven't you any consideration for him?"

"Yes; sufficient to make me wish that the truth should be clothed inyour own sweet persuasive accents, when it is conveyed to him. I don'twish to jar him any more than is necessary. "

"Edward, you are perfectly heartless!"

"That is the natural consequence of losing one's heart, isn't it?"

"Oh, then, you are only jesting. It's a very good joke, but inquestionable taste. "

"Dear Rose, believe me, I was never more in earnest than at present. "

"Except when you are out hunting. I have seen you go without food andsleep simply because you were on the track of some beautiful wildcreature that was forced to yield its liberty and life merely togratify your whim. It is in that despicable way that you would treatWanda. "

The young man smiled. He perceived that his sister was changing hertactics. 

"You are very considerate and tender of Wanda, " he said, "but not somuch as I expect to be. "

The conversation, which was growing more and more unsatisfactory, wasabruptly terminated by the entrance of one of the other members of thefamily. 

As a natural result of this interview Wanda was invited to go withthem in the sail-boat next day. Rose was clear-witted enough to seethat persistent opposition would only intensify the halo of romancewhich her infatuated brother had discovered upon the brow of theAlgonquin Maiden, and that outward acquiescence would give theattachment an air of prosaic tameness, if anything could. Besides, ascandal is made more scandalous when the offender's family are knownto be in a state of hopelessly outraged enmity. 

Thus bravely reasoned Rose, while her heart sank within her. She wasnot prepared for the worst, but it was necessary that she shouldbehave in all points as if she were; otherwise the worst might behastened. It was impossible to view Wanda in the light of a possiblesister-in-law; nevertheless, she gave her the pink cambric dress forwhich the Indian girl had so often expressed admiration, andsupplemented the kindness with a pair of gloves, destined never to beworn, and a straw hat, whose trimming was speedily torn off and itsplace supplied by wampum, gorgeous feathers, the stained quills of theporcupine, with tufts of moose hair, dyed blue and red. 

Certainly she looked very pretty as she stood on the shore next day, all ready for departure. Even Rose, who for the first time in her kindlittle life would willingly have noticed personal defects, was forcedto admit that Wanda was looking and acting particularly well; the onlyapparent fault being a lack of harmony between herself and her dress. They were two separate entities, not only in fact but in appearance, and they were seemingly in a state of subdued but constant warfare. The truth was, that this wild girl of the woods was secretly chafingagainst the stiffly starched prison in which she found herselfhelplessly immured. 

It was very pleasant out on the water. The fresh vigour of the breezefilling the sail with life, the waves swirling up about the sides ofthe boat, the dancing motion of their little craft upon the water, thechanging tints, the shadows and ripples of the bay gave them a quietyet keen delight. Their destination was a point of land on LakeSimcoe, where a party of picnicers was already assembled. A group ofgirls came down to the shore as they landed, and bore Rose and Evaaway with them. In the leafy distance Edward caught a glimpse ofHelene DeBerczy, and in his heart the young man thanked heaven that hewas not as other men are, or even as the callow youths who werehanging upon her utterances. 

After a while, Edward observed Wanda standing apart, and looking atthe marauders in her loved woods as a man might look upon the enemieswho, with fire and sword, were desolating the home of his fathers. Between her and these gay girls there was a difference, not of degreebut of kind. They loved the forest as a background for themselves; sheloved it as herself. The curious eyes fixed upon her were morerespectful in their gaze when Edward quietly took his place besideher. Presently, Rose with her devoted adherents joined them, and everyeffort was put forth to make the Indian girl feel at home in her home. But for the most part they were futile. Wanda was thoroughly ill atease, though she concealed the fact with the native stolidity of herrace. But love's intuitions are keen, and Edward realized that hislittle sweetheart was very uncomfortable. What could be the reason?Her dress seemed incongruous, and yet it was perfectly in accord withthe linen and lawns and flower-dotted muslins about her. 

"Laura, " observed a young lady behind him, in a muffled whisper whichhe could not choose but hear, "do look at Helene DeBerczy's costume. Could anything be more out of place at a picnic?" Edward's gaze, involuntarily straying to the garb which was so singularlyinappropriate, rested upon the filmiest of black stuffs, exquisite ascobweb, through which were revealed the long perfect arms, and thetender curves of neck and shoulder. From this gracious figure wasexhaled invisible radiations--the luxurious sense of refinedwomanliness. How gross and earthly, how fatally commonplace andprosaic seemed everyone about her. The violently high spirits of theother girls, their scramblings for flowers and shriekings at snakes, their too obvious blushes and iron-clad flirtations, seemed not tocome a-nigh her. "Her soul was like a star and dwelt apart. " The youngman assured himself that he was not falling in love with her again; hewas merely laying at her feet an involuntary tribute of admiration, the sort of admiration which he might feel for a rare poem. 

Meanwhile the girl with whom he was in love had made what Edwardcalled "an object" of herself. By this uncertain phrase he did notmean an object of admiration, poetic or otherwise. Left for a briefseason to her own devices Wanda had torn and muddied her gown, losther hat, and in other respects behaved, as a maiden lady presentremarked, precisely like an overgrown child of five years, who has"never had any bringing up. " All the children had taken an immensefancy to her, and she was delighting them with her dexterity inclimbing trees when Edward cast a hot, shamed, imploring look at hissister, to which she responded by saying:

"Wanda, you must be very tired. Come and sit down a while and rest. "

The girl, seeing Edward a little apart from the others, took a seatbeside him, at which distinct mark of preference the rest smiled. Herlover alone wore a heavy frown. He glanced at the frouzy hair, towhich not even the beauty of the face beneath could reconcile him;then at the scratched and sun-burned hands, and lastly at the stainedand battered gown. "Wanda, " he said with stern brevity, "how did youget your dress so wet?"

"Wading the brook, " she replied, surveying the dripping and discolouredskirt with entire indifference. 

"That is very improper. You shouldn't do such things. Why are you notquiet?"

"Only the dead are quiet; but perhaps you wish to kill me. "

The remark was startling, but it was unaccompanied by a ray of emotionin face or voice. Only in the large soft eyes lay a depth of sufferingsuch as he had seen in the look of a dying fawn, wounded by his hand. "Your words pierce like arrows, " she said. 

"Dear Wanda, forgive me; I am expecting too much of you. It isexceedingly cruel of me to make you suffer so. "

"Wanda!" called one of a group of children, "come and swing us, please. "

"Don't go, " whispered Edward decisively. He himself strode over tothem, lifted one chubby youngster after another into the huge swing, and sent them flying into the tree-tops. It was a form of pastime thathe detested; but he was not going to have Wanda at the beck and callof "those little ruffians. " At last, with the sympathetic assurancethat if they wanted any more swinging they were at liberty to get itfrom each other, he left them, and rejoined the Indian girl. 

"Wanda!" said Helene, as she spread a shawl on the ground, "just stepacross to our carriage, will you, and bring me a cushion you will findthere. "

"You must not!" declared Edward, in a low savage whisper, preparing togo himself; but the girl was off like a swallow before the wind. Hemet her on the way back, took the cushion from her, and presented itto its owner with a bow of exaggerated deference. Helene's black browsexpressed the utmost astonishment; but as she confronted Edward'swrathful gaze her own eyes caught fire, and the two who once had beenso nearly lovers now manifested no other emotion toward each othersave repressed and concentrated hate. 

"I wish you to understand, " said the exasperated young man to Wanda, as he accompanied her to dinner, "that you are not a servant, and youmustn't obey anyone's commands. "

"No, " was the slow reply, "I shall obey no one's commands, not evenyours;" and with these words she turned and fled into the woods. Theever-present desire to escape had conquered at last. 

"How kind you are to that unfortunate girl!" observed the lady nexthim at dinner. "She must try your patience so much. "

Edward admitted that his patience had been tried; but he was in nomood to expatiate upon the subject. He had a very slight idea of whathe was eating and drinking, or of what all the talking was about. Thesunshine flecking the open clearing gave him a feeling that he wouldsoon have a dreadful headache. After it was over he lay down, andtried to forget his troubles in a noontide nap. Gradually the voicesabout him softened and died away. For a moment he was floating uponthe still waters of sleep, and then he drifted back to shore. Openinghis eyes he found himself alone with Helene, who was asleep among herwrappings at a little distance. The rest had strayed away in pairs andgroups, out of hearing if not out of sight. The unconscious figureseemed clothed in an atmosphere of ethereal sweetness, and Edwardcaught himself wondering whether the root of an affection, whose lifeis years long, is ever removed from the heart, unless the heart isremoved with it. He began seriously to doubt, not his constancy toWanda, but his inconstancy to Helene. Suddenly she opened her eyes andcaught his glance. He withdrew it at once, and in the embarrassment ofthe moment made some inane remark upon the beauty of the day. Helenerose with deliberation, put one white hand to the well-brushed head, trim and shining as a raven's wing, and with the utmost tranquillityanswered "yes. " Certainly she had the most irritating way in the worldof pronouncing the words which usually sound sweetest from a woman'slips. He did not wait to continue a conversation so unpropitiouslybegun, but went off on a lonely exploring tramp along the shore. 

Late in the afternoon as he was returning, he noticed a nondescriptfigure sitting solitary on the bank, which, as he approached resolveditself into the superb outline of his Indian love. Unconscious ofobservation she threw herself backward, in an attitude as remarkablefor its beauty as for its unconventionality. She seemed to beluxuriating with a sort of animal content in the brightness of thesunshine, the softness of the odorous breeze, and the warmth of thewater in which her slim bare feet were dabbling; she dug her brownfingers in the earth, as though the very touch of the soil was intensedelight. The hated dress was reduced to ruinous pink rags, whichbecame her untamed beauty as the habiliments of civilization nevercould have done. Her slowly approaching lover viewed her with mingledamusement and horror, while deep in his heart flowed the dark; currentof a great despair. Hearing his footsteps she nerved herself for theexpected reproaches, which he knew were worse than useless; but seeingin his face nothing but undisguised admiration, she sprang lightly toher feet and threw herself upon his neck. Edward kissed her, but itwas with a thrill of ineffable self-contempt, and a sharp consciousnessthat the only charm this girl possessed for him was that she allowedhim to kiss her. Then he drew away and brushed with fastidious glovethe dust his coat retained from contact with her shoulder. 

"See what I have found!" she exclaimed, holding up a small trinket thatglittered in the sunlight. "It belongs to the Moon-in-a-black-cloud. "

It was a little gold locket, which he had often noticed on the neck ofHelene. Shortly before Wanda's abrupt flight, she had pointed withchildish curiosity to the slender bright chain clearly visible beneaththe transparent folds of the black gown, and the young lady hadobligingly drawn the locket from its secret place upon her heart, forthe gratification of its admirer. Left for a time on the outside ofher dress, one of the tiny links must have severed, and the prettytrinket slipped to the ground unnoticed by its owner. The young man inwhose hand it now lay was tempted to a dishonourable action. He hadoften begged Helene to show him the contents of this locket--a favourwhich had uniformly been denied. Now the opportunity was his withoutthe asking. Nothing rewarded his curiosity save a lock of yellow hair, probably cut from the head of Rose. Queer fancy, he thought, for onegirl to cherish the tresses of another. Suddenly he was struck by anidea that sent the blood throbbing to his temples. He examined thetress a second time. The bright hair growing upon his sister's head heknew had a reddish tinge, and its silky length terminated in ring-likecurls. This was short and straight, of a pale colour, and showed byits unevenness that it had been "shingled. " His heart beat as thoughit would burst. "You must take this back to its owner, " he saidimperatively. 

Wanda slipped her hand in his. "We will go together, " she said. 

He glanced at her bare feet and ruined raiment, and realized with aburning flush that he was thoroughly ashamed of her. No, he could nottake the hand of his future wife and face that crowd of curiousworldlings. The mere touch of her soiled fingers was repugnant to him. She seemed like some coarse weed, whose vivid hues he might admire inpassing, but which he would shrink from wearing on his person. 

"It will be better for you to go alone, " he replied. "Don't tell thelady that anyone beside yourself has seen the locket. I will comepresently. "

But he lingered a long time after she left him, drinking against hiswill the sharp waters of bitter-sweet reflection. There came back tohim an afternoon a year ago, when his sister Eva, out of childish loveof mischief, had stolen up behind him, and cut off the lock of hairwhich fell over his brow. 

"Mere masculine vanity, " she had said, as the scissors snapped. He hadsprung up instantly, and pursued her as she fled shrieking down theavenue. Helene, who was the only other occupant of the room had lookedalmost shocked at their conduct, and his pet lock of hair hadmysteriously disappeared. Since then during how many days and nightshad it been rising and falling upon the proud bosom, that he knew verywell would be cold in death before it would give evidence of aquickened heart-beat in his presence. The knowledge he had gained bythe discovery of the locket made Helene dangerously dear to him, andyet relieved him of not a particle of his duty towards Wanda. He sawneither of the girls again that day, but he carried home with him astinging memory of both. Late that night he was pacing his room withsick heart and aching head, while in the next apartment Rose wasassuring herself that the picnic had been a great success. "Really, "she meditated, "nothing could possibly be worse--or better--than theway in which Wanda behaved. "

CHAPTER XVIII. 

THE COMMODORE SURRENDERS. 

A few weeks later there was another excursion to the emerald glooms ofthe forest, but this was limited in number to the Macleods andDeBerczys, with a few of their intimate friends. Wanda was absent onone of her indefinite expeditions--indefinite in length as well as inobject, though the wigwam of her foster-feather was one of the pointsof interest visited by the party. Conspicuous among the numerousIndians in the settlement in the neighbourhood of Orillia was the lastof the Algonquins, partly because of the pathos which attaches to thesole survivor in any region of a nearly extinct race, partly becauseof the mantle of traditional glory that had fallen upon him from theshoulders of valorous ancestors. He declined to join the revellers attheir midday feasting under the trees, but his unexpected appearanceafterwards suggested a pleasant substitute for the noon-day siesta. "Talk about the storied memories of the past, in the old world, " saidEdward, leaning back on the mossy sward, and gazing up through greenbranches to the blue heaven, "this country has had its share of them, and here is the man, " clapping a friendly hand on the Indian'sshoulder, "who can tell us about them. "

"Ah, do!" implored Herbert and Eva. 

"Ah, don't!" entreated their father. "If there's anything that spoilsthe sylvan shades for me, it is to learn that they were once the sceneof battle axes and blood spilling, and such like gruesomeness. "

"But we _ought_ to know about it, " said Helene. "It's history. "

"That makes it all the worse. If it were fiction I wouldn't care. "

"Now, Papa, " said Rose, "that evinces a depraved taste. People willblame your home-training. Consider my feelings. "

"That is what I supposed I was doing, my dear, in praying to bedelivered from a tale that would make your blood run cold. "

"What a delightful way for one's blood to run in this weather, " lazilyremarked one of the Boulton girls, and the other said she was piningfor a story of particular horror. 

"Oh, a story, by all means, " said the Commodore, "but let it be atradition or something of that sort. " Then turning to the Chief: "Doesnot our brother know the legend of the unfortunate wretch of a man whowas set upon and abused by a lot of unmerciful women, because hebarbarously forbade them to learn all the history they wanted?Something of that sort would be appropriate. "

"Our brother" shook his head. "That is beyond my skill, but I canrelate a story of the times before ever women were brought into theworld. "

"Rather dull times for the men, weren't they?" inquired one of theparty. 

"It is the belief of some of our race that they were very good times, "replied the Chief, tranquilly. "The men of that period, free from theinfluence of the other sex, have been spoken of as a much better raceof beings than they are to-day. At that time you never heard of such athing as a man being cross to his wife, or too attentive to hisneighbour's wife, and when the husband came back from the chasewithout meat there was no one to scold him. Every man had his own way, and dwelt in peace in his own wigwam. As fast as they died out theManito created more, and as they had no families they had nothing tofight for, nothing to defend, and, consequently, there were few warsamong them. There were, I am sorry to say, some disadvantages. The menwere obliged to weed corn, dry fish, mend nets, fell trees, carrylogs, and do other women's work, which, as we know, is a greatdegradation. Also, when they were sick or in trouble, some of theweaker ones were heard to declare that they wished women wereinvented, but as a rule they were blithe and gay as warriors in thedance that follows a great victory. There were many ennoblinginfluences in this world before women entered it. Vanity did notexist. Simplicity was the rule, especially in attire, which ordinarilyconsisted of hunting coats and leggings, deerskin moccasins andcoloured blankets, enriched with beads. It was only once in a whilethat they appeared in black eagle plumes, and gorgeous feathers, garters gay with beads, moccasins worked with stained porcupinequills, leggings of scarlet cloth, embroidered and decorated withtufts of moosehair, dyed blue and red, robes curiously plaited of thebark of the mulberry, and adorned with bear claws, hawks' bills andturtle shells. Besides being plain and quiet in their dress they werevery upright in their lives. No man ever was known to lie to hisneighbour; but now when you see a man and woman too frequentlytogether you may be sure he is telling her things that come true aboutas often as larks fall from the skies. Neither were men in those daysever deceived; but now they are tangled in women's wiles as easily asa partridge is caught in a net. There were no cowards, for men at alltimes are staunch and bold, whereas a woman has nothing but the heartof a little bird in her breast. All nature shared in man's prosperity. The corn grew to the height of a young forest tree, and in thehunting-grounds the deer and bears were as thick as stars. 

"But the chief glory of man in those days was his long, superb andglossy tail; for at that time it could not be said that the horseswere more highly gifted than he. You must often have noticed the pridewith which horses switch their tails about, apparently to drive offflies, but really to show their superiority to the race they serve. The reproach of having no tail is one that is hard to bear; but at thetime of which I speak all men were endowed with luxuriant tails, someof them black as the shell of a butternut when it is fully ripe, others the colour of the setting sun, but all trimmed with shells, gaycoloured beads and flowers, and strings of alligators' teeth. Thosewho say that there is nothing on earth so beautiful as a woman did notlive in the time when tails were invented. Nothing could surpass thepride their owners took in them, nor the scorn that was heaped uponthe hapless creature whose tail was short or scanty. 

"But, as often happens to people who have all and more than they need, so it was with our ancestors. From being simply proud of their tailsthey began to grow vain and useless, caring for nothing but their ownease and adornment, neglecting to harvest the maize, feeble in thechase, sleeping sometimes for the space of nearly a moon, and unableto take more than a woman's journey of six suns at a time. Then theManito reflected and said to himself: 'This will never do. Man was notmade to be a mere groundling. His greatest luxury must be taken fromhim, and in its place there must be given him something to tax hispatience and strengthen his powers. ' So one fine morning every man inthe world woke up to find his tail missing. Great was the surprise andlamentation, and this was not lessened by the sudden appearance of thewomen, who came in number like that of the flight of pigeons in themoon before the snow moon. No prayers could avail to stay theircoming, and from that time all the troubles in the world began. No manwas allowed to have his own way thenceforward, nor was he permitted toplod along in his old, slow, comfortable fashion, but each one interror went to work as swift as a loon flying before a high wind. "

The laugh that arose at the end of this not strictly authenticnarrative was prolonged by a strange voice, and Allan Dunlop, who, unobserved, had made his appearance among them, now came forward toexchange greetings with his friends. Herbert and Eva Macleod hungenraptured about him, while he went to congratulate the old Indianupon his gifts as a story-teller. Then Edward's warm hand clasped his. "Come over and see my father, " he said. "Oh, no, he is asleep. Hegenerally sleeps in the afternoon of the day. "

"A very good plan when one comes to the afternoon of one's days, "observed Allan, and then he went over to speak to Rose. 

Her little soft hand fluttered up to his as a bird flutters to itsnest. They had not met since that stormy March night. Since then hehad confessed, in correspondence between them, that life was aperpetual struggle between him and love, and she had asked--though notin so many words--if it would make it any easier for him to know thatshe was engaged in the same struggle with the same great enemy. Ah, with what a fine pen had she written that, and with what pale ink, andnervous, nearly illegible strokes, and how she had crowded it down tothe very edge of the paper. But he had read it, and it was fixed onhis mind as clearly as though it had been written in lightning on thedark horizon of his future. And now, though his brown eyes werewarming into black, and her cheeks were the colour of the flower afterwhich she was named, they talked of conventional things in anindifferent way, as is the customary and proper thing to do. They sawlittle of each other through the remainder of the afternoon, but whenthey were making ready for the sail home, Eva, at Allan's invitation, sprang into his little light boat. 

"Come with me, Rose, " she cried, "Mr. Dunlop is going to row me home, and it will be better worth while if there are two of us. "

The excuses which Rose instantly invented were not so strong as thevehement tones in which her sister uttered her invitation, and toavoid attracting attention or remark she gently seated herself in theboat, which Allan exultantly pushed away from the shore. The delightof being for a little while almost alone with his love wasintoxicating. The younger girl, who had counted so ardently upon thepleasure of Allan's society, found herself in a short time too sleepyto enjoy it. Her pale, pretty head nodded drowsily, and at last founda resting-place in the lap of her sister. The other two did notexchange many words. It would have been a shame to disturb theplay-worn little maid. The night was very beautiful; the stars seemedsoftly remote. Beneath their light the woods gleamed mysteriously, andthe waves were hushed into a dream of peace. The bay that at sunsethad seemed a sea of melted gold, now held the young moon trembling inits liquid embrace. About them played the ineffable caresses of thelight evening breeze. 

"Rose, " said Allan, softly. 

She looked up with conscious resistance, but it was too late for thatnow. The imperious passion of his mood met the sad grace of herattitude. His speech flowed fast and warm as if it had been blood fromhis veins. She felt herself weakening into helpless tears. "Ah, spareme!" she cried. "It is all so hopeless. My father--"

"I am coming to see your father to-morrow, " he said. "It will be ahard battle, but it must be decided at once. "

He helped them to land, and they walked in silence to the house. Atthe doorway, in which Eva had disappeared, Rose took Allan'soutstretched hand in both of hers, and drawing it close, laid herweary, wet little face down upon it. The sound of voices and laughtercame up from the beach, and she hastily released herself and fled toher room. 

The next afternoon Eva Macleod, with an air of considerableimportance, tapped at the door of her father's apartment. "Papa, " shesaid, with that fondness for a choice diction observable in carefullyreared young ladies at the beginning of their teens, "may I have aprivate conversation with you?"

"Why, certainly, my dear! A little talk, I suppose, you mean. "

Without heeding this undignified interruption, Miss Eva gave herparent a very accurate report of the dramatic scene in the boat theevening before, of which she had been an interested auditor. 

"Of course, " she added, in conscientious defence, "I didn't want themto suppose I was sleeping, but if I had opened my eyes it would havebeen very embarrassing for us all. "

"Humph!" said her father. "Does Rose know that you were awake?"

"No, I have not broached the topic to her, " replied Eva, with anaffectation of maturer speech. 

"Humph!" said the gentleman again; a quizzical glance at his youngerdaughter breaking for a moment through the gloom with which he wasmeditating the fate of the elder one. "Well, I am glad you 'broached'it to me; I shall--"

"Papa, " interrupted Eva, with bated breath, glancing down from thewindow at which she stood, "there is Allan now. "

"_Allan_! You are mightily well acquainted. I see I must prepare tomake an unconditional surrender. "

He walked in a nervous and disquieted manner out of the room. At thehead of the stairs he encountered Mademoiselle DeBerczy, on her wayup. 

"Helene, " he said, with the desperation of one who in the fifty-ninthminute after the eleventh hour does not entirely despair of a gleam ofhope, "I wish you would tell me in two words if Rose loves AllanDunlop. Does she?"

"_Don't_ she!" exclaimed Helene, with explosive earnestness, and thetwo words were sufficient. Their effect was not lessened by subsequentoccurrences. On opening the drawing-room door Rose hastened to hisside, turning her back, as she did so, upon a young man of ardent butentirely self-respectful aspect, standing not far distant. 

"Oh, Papa!" she cried in her extremity, "save me from him. He lovesme!"

"Is that the only reason?" asked her father. 

"No; there is a greater one. _I love him_!"

"Ah!" murmured Allan softly, "it is to _me_ you should say that. "

"She shall have unlimited opportunities for saying it to you, "observed the elder gentleman, with kindly promptness, but with a soreheart. "After a while, " he added, turning to Allan, with his hand onthe door knob, "I will be glad to see you. "

In this sentence, which is an interesting illustration of the power ofmanners over mind, the word "will" was purposely substituted for thecustomary "shall. " It was only by an active effort of will that thegood Commodore could be glad to see his daughter's suitor. But theirinterview, if it did not prove a death-blow to his prejudices, atleast inflicted serious injuries upon them, from which they neverafterwards recovered. He was won over by the young fellow's manliness, which, when contrasted with mere gentlemanliness, apart from it, putsthe latter at a striking disadvantage, even in the mind of theconfirmed aristocrat. There was also a tinge of absurdity in the ideaof being ashamed of a son-in-law of whom his country was beginning tobe proud. Perhaps it was as well that he should arrive unaided at thisopinion, for Allan had won the rest of the household to his side, anda belief in which one is entirely alone must contain something morethan mere pride of birth in order to support its possessor in comfort. Even the loyal Tredway would have failed to respond to his imaginedneed, for this faithful servitor had long since discovered that thehappiness of his young mistress was more to be desired than thepreservation of any fancied superiority on the part of the family towhich he was devotedly attached. 

CHAPTER XIX. 

AT STAMFORD COTTAGE. 

Not more than three miles from the Falls of Niagara, between them andQueenston, lies the pretty village of Stamford, in which, over sixtyyears ago, Upper Canada's Lieutenant-Governor built the summer homewhich became his favourite place of abode. Set in the midst of a vastnatural park, its appearance corresponded perfectly to Mrs. Jameson'sdescription of an elegant villa, framed in the interminable forests. Here, within sound of the great cataract and, on clear, typicallyCanadian days, within sight of York, thirty miles distant across thelake, Sir Peregrine and Lady Sarah Maitland found a grateful retreatfrom the cares of public life. Not that they loved society less, butsolitude more; especially, to use a Hibernicism, when that solitudewas shared. In the early summer of 1827 Stamford Cottage was filledwith people after its pretty mistress's own heart. If she suspectedone of her guests of being also after the heart of another, it did notendear him the less to her. Why should she not remove from the pathsof her _proteges_ the scarcely perceptible obstacles which preventedthem from being as happily married as herself? But one day shediscovered that the role of match-maker is as arduous as it isalluring, and with this she went at once to her husband's study. 

"Dear, " she began, "I have become greatly interested in a young man, and I thought it only right that you should know about it before itgoes any further. "

"Ah, yes, certainly. " The gentleman looked rather abstracted. "And theyoung fellow--is he interested too?"

"Oh, interested is a feeble word. He is desperately in love. "

"Then you haven't taken me into your confidence a moment too soon. Hashe declared his passion?"

"No; that's just the trouble. He goes mooning round and mooning round, and never saying a word. And I'm sure, " added the lady in an aggrievedtone, "I've given him every opportunity. Yesterday after infinitepains I brought him and Helene together in the arbour, and made somepretext for escaping into the house. What did that--infant--do butfollow me out?"

"Quite natural, if his feelings towards you are such as you havedescribed. "

"Towards _me_! You don't imagine I am talking of myself. "

"That is what your words would lead one to believe. "

"Oh, dear husband, you know perfectly well what I mean. I do thinkthat when a man sets out to be stupid he succeeds a thousand timesbetter than a woman. Surely you have noticed how badly Edward Macleodand Helene DeBerczy are behaving. "

"Really, my dear, I have not. I supposed they were behaving remarkablywell. "

"In one sense--yes. They are as 'polite as peas. ' But why _should_they be polite?"

"Well, it is a custom of the country, I suppose. It's hard to accountfor all the strange things one sees in a foreign land. "

"My object is not so much to account for it as to put an end to it. It's ridiculous for two people, who have known each other frombabyhood, to be standing aloof, and looking as if the honour of eachother's acquaintance was the last thing to be desired. And nowMademoiselle Helene wants to go home. She does not complain or repineor importune, but every day, and several times a day, she presents theidea to her mother, with varying degrees of emphasis, and in the toneof one who believes that continual dropping will wear away the stone. Madame DeBerczy as yet remains sweetly obdurate. She is enjoying hervisit, and there seems to be no special good reason why it should beterminated. I particularly wish them to stay, as I want if possible tobring about a better understanding between Helene and Edward. We mustnot let them escape. "

In pursuance of the policy suggested by his wife, Sir Peregrine tookoccasion to have a special kindly little chat with Helene, with a viewto overcome her reluctance to remain. Naturally of a reserveddisposition his cordial hospitality found expression in looks andactions rather than words, and these took a greater value from theinfrequency with which they were uttered. 

"What is this I hear about your wanting to leave us?" he said, addressing Helene, who, with her mother, was seated on his left atdinner that evening. "Have you really grown very tired of us all?"

The young lady laid down her knife and fork, and the unconsciousmovement, combined with her unusual pallor, gave one the impressionthat she was indeed very tired. 

"No, Sir Peregrine, only of myself. I seem to be suffering from aprolonged attack of spring fever. Don't you think home is the bestplace for those who have the bad taste to be in poor health?"

"No doubt of it, " replied the gentleman, at which she gave him agrateful glance, thinking she had won an unexpected ally; "but, " hecontinued, "I hoped you would feel at home here. "

Helene assured him that it was impossible for her to enjoy her visitmore than she was doing. As she made this perfectly sincere statementher melancholy eyes by chance encountered the deep blue ones of herunacknowledged lover. In their depths lurked an expression of absoluterelief. Could he then be glad to hear of their projected departure?She hoped so. It would be very much better for both. "Has it neveroccurred to you, " she asked of Sir Peregrine, "that the pleasantestthings in this world are very seldom the best for us?"

"I am sorry to hear you say that, " he rejoined pleasantly, "as I wasabout to ask you to go out driving with me to-morrow morning. There isa view near the Falls that I believe you have never yet seen, and thegratification of showing it to you would be to me one of thepleasantest things in the world. "

The young lady very willingly admitted that this was an exception tothe rule she had just laid down. Lady Sarah, who thus far had approvedher husband's tactics, now gave him a slightly questioning glance, buthe returned her such a look of self-confident good cheer, that sheknew at once he must be involved in a deep-laid plot of his own. As arule she had small respect for masculine plots, and before another dayhad elapsed her sentiment on the subject was abundantly shared by atleast two of her guests. Mademoiselle DeBerczy had always entertaineda genuine admiration and liking for the Lieutenant-Governor. Hischivalrous courtesy, picturesque appearance, and the exquisiterefinement of his tone and manner pleased her fastidious taste. So itwas with almost a light heart that she made her preparations nextmorning for the drive. But when seated in the carriage, and waitingwith a bright face the appearing of her delinquent attendant, it wasnot pleasant to be told by the gentleman himself that importantdispatches had just arrived by the morning's mail, which demanded hispersonal and immediate attention. "Besides that fact, " said HisExcellency, "I had forgotten an appointment I have with the Hon. Mr. Hamilton Merritt to talk over his great project of the Welland Canalbetween the two Lakes, and I cannot disappoint him. " He couldn't thinkof asking her to wait until the sun was hot, and the pleasure of thedrive spoiled, added the Lieutenant-Governor. But here was EdwardMacleod, who would no doubt be glad to take his place. At thisannouncement Helene longed to fly to her room, but she could think ofno valid excuse. The young man, sitting with the last _Gazette_ inhand in a rustic chair on the veranda, listened to the summons withsilent horror. He actually turned pale, but like Helene, he couldthink of no possible excuse for evading the turn affairs had taken. Herose mechanically, gave inarticulate utterance to the pleasure he didnot feel, and took his seat beside the unhappy girl, who shrankvisibly into her corner. 

"Admirable!" exclaimed Lady Sarah, softly stepping out to witness theunusual phenomenon of Edward and Helene driving away together. "Inever supposed a man _could_ have so much sagacity and foresight. Herehave I been cudgelling my brains to keep those two from playing hideand seek--no, hide and _avoid_--ever since they came, and now youaccomplish it in the easiest and most natural way in the world. Seewhat it is to have a clever husband! How did you happen to think ofthose important dispatches?"

Emphasis would indicate too coarsely the delicate stress laid upon thelast two words. The gentleman looked extremely puzzled. 

"_Happen_ to think? I am _obliged_ to think of them. "

"Really? What a lucky accident! So you are not the sly designingschemer I supposed. Ah, well, you are the soul of honour, and that isinfinitely better. "

Certainly to her mind in the present case that was what appearanceswould seem to indicate; but the poor wretches who were tending slowlytoward the brink of some indefinable horror, more awful to theirimaginations than the great cataract itself, thought not so much uponthe means by which they were brought into their present painfulposition, as upon the impossibility of escape from it. To the eye ofa casual wayfarer these handsome young people, driving abroad throughthe dewy freshness of the morning, with the long lovely day beforethem, could not be considered objects of pity. 

For a while they took refuge in commonplaces, relieved by lapses ofeloquent silence; then as the winding road conducted them by easygradations into greener depths of leafy solitude they lookedinvoluntarily into each other's eyes, and realized that, beneath allthe bitterness and pride and cruel estrangement, their love was thetruest, most unalterable, part of their life. 

"Perhaps, " said Edward, speaking as though the words were wrung fromhim, "it is better that we should meet once more alone, though it befor the last time. "

The girl gave a low murmur of assent. Her eyes were looking straightforward. The solitude was permeated by the deep thunder of the Falls, and it voiced the depth of her despair. "For the last time, " she saidwithin herself, "for the last time. "

"I have a favour to ask, " he continued, "a favour that I verilybelieve a man never yet asked of the woman he loved; and I do loveyou, my darling--there, let me say it once, since I can never say itagain--I love you with all my heart and soul. " He bowed his head, andshe could see the blue vein in his temple growing bluer and swellingas he spoke. He had not laid a finger upon her, he could not so muchas lift his eyes up to her face, but a mocking breeze suddenly blew afold of her raiment against his cheek, and he kissed it passionately. Helene held her hands tightly together; they were trembling violently. 

"I want to beg of you, " he said, still without looking up, "to lookupon me with suspicion, aversion, and distrust; to disbelieve any goodyou may hear of me; to hate me if you can; to treat me as long as youlive with uniform coldness and indifference. "

"I understand, " she replied with icy brevity, "you think there isdanger of my treating you otherwise. "

Now, since the discovery of the locket, and its tell-tale contents, this was precisely the danger that Edward had feared, but he was adiplomatist. 

"Have you ever given me the slightest reason to think so?" hedemanded. "At my least approach your natural pride changes tohaughtiness, arrogance, and scorn. But the one thing greater thanyour pride is my love. Ah, you know nothing about it--you cannotimagine its power. Madmen have warned those who were dearest to themto fly from their sight, lest in spite of themselves an irreparableinjury be inflicted. And so I urge you to continue avoiding me, tocast behind not even a single glance of pity, lest in spite of yourpride, in spite of my reason, I should bend all my power to the oneobject of winning you. "

This calamity, it may be supposed, was not quite so great and horribleto the mind of the young lady as it was in the excited imagination ofher lover. "I do not understand you, " she said quietly. "What is ityou wish to ask of me?"

"Only this: that you will never think of me with the slightest degreeof kindness; that you will drop me from your acquaintance; that youwill forget that I ever existed. "

"Very well;" her tones were even quieter than before, and a great dealcolder! "I promise never to think any more of you than I do at thismoment. " And all the time she was crying with inward tears, "O, darling, darling, as though I could think any more of you than I donow! As though I could, as though I could!"

"Thank you, " said Edward, "you are removing a terrible temptation frommy way, and helping to make me stronger and less ignoble than I am. Let me tell you all about it, Helene. Do you remember that night inthe conservatory last winter, when you treated me so cruelly? Yes, Iown I was a wild animal; but you might have tamed me, and instead youinfuriated me. I went from you to Wanda, the Indian girl with whom Iflirted last summer. She was in civilized garb, in my mother's home, quiet as a bird that has been driven by the storms of winter into aplace of shelter. I too had been tempest-driven, and her warm welcome, her beauty and tenderness, stole away my senses. She soothed myinjured vanity, satisfied my desperate hunger for love, and I livedfor weeks in the belief that we were made for each other. But with thereturn of summer the untamed spirit of her race took possession ofher, and when I saw her with you, --ah, dearest, is there need for meto say more? I cannot marry her; every fibre of my being, everysentiment of my soul, revolts from it; but neither am I such a monsterof iniquity as to try to win any one else, and found my lifelonghappiness upon that poor girl's broken-hearted despair. No, Helene, you have no right to look at me in that way. I never wronged her inthe base brutish sense of the word--never in a way that the spirit ofmy dead mother might not have witnessed--but I have robbed her of herheart, and find too late that I do not want it. I cannot free her fromher suffering, but at least I shall always share it. "

And I too, was Helene's internal response. Aloud she suggested that itwas time for them to return. Her indifference was precisely whatEdward had begged for, but now in return for his confidence it chilledhim. She noticed his disappointment, and with a sudden impulse ofsympathy, she laid a tiny gloved hand upon his arm. "Oh, you areright, " she breathed, "perfectly right. It is infinitely better tosuffer with her than to be happy and contemptible and forget her. Believe me I shall not be a hindrance to you. "

He took in his own the little fluttering hand, and held it in what hebelieved to be a quiet friendly clasp. It was an immense relief tounburden his mind to any one, and her approval was very sweet to aheart that had been torn for weary days and nights by self-accusationand self-contempt. Unconsciously he leaned nearer to her, stillholding the little hand, which its owner did not withdraw, because itwas for "the last time. " In the reaction from the severe strain of thedays and weeks gone past they were almost light-hearted. Beforere-entering the village Edward stopped the horse in a leafy covert, where for a few minutes they might be secure from observation. 

"It is only to say good-bye, my heart's idol, " he explained. "Since Ihave proved myself unworthy even of your liking I must go away from youforever. But our parting must be here in private. " He held both herhands now in a tight, strong grasp, and looked into her face withunutterable love. "Ah, heaven, " he groaned, "I cannot give you up! Icannot, I cannot!" He bowed his face upon the lilies in her lap, butthe languid bloodless things could not cool the fever in his cheeks. For her life she could not help laying her hand tenderly upon hishead--the young golden head that lay so wearily close to her emptyarms; but she said nothing. A woman's heart is dumb, not because it iscreated so, but because society has decreed that that is the onlyproper thing for it to be. "Helene, " he murmured, lifting his headwith a strange dazed look, "I believe I have been delirious all themorning. What possible good could my suffering be to Wanda? I don'tknow what I have said, but I wish you would forget it all. I wish youwould remember nothing except that I love you--love you--_love you_!"

The girl laughed aloud and bitterly. "So that is the length of a man'sremorse! No! You have begged me to despise you, and now I shall begyou not to make it dangerously easy for me to do so. "

Her contempt was a tonic. It reminded the young man that he deserved, not only that but his own contempt as well. They drove home withoutexchanging another word. 

CHAPTER XX. 

THE COMING OF WANDA. 

The spectacle of a pair of lovers equally pale and proud alighting ather door was rather dispiriting to Lady Sarah Maitland, but she didnot lose heart. This she rightly considered to be the proper thing for_them_, not for her to do. At least they should not escape "thesolitude of the crowd, " and opportunities for bringing them into thissort of solitude were not lacking. The same afternoon an English lord, who had recently been making a tour of the States, with some officersof His Majesty's 70th Regiment, then stationed at York, arrived atStamford Cottage, and in their honour a large number of guests wereassembled that evening. The soft radiance of mingled moonlight andcandle light, the artistic luxury of the place and its surroundings, the exquisite robes of soft-voiced women, the cultivated tone andmanner of the men, with a sort of subtle and distinguished aroma ofBritish nobility shed over the whole--all of these things held forEdward Macleod a potent witchery. This evening he was in unusuallygood spirits, and was entertaining a group of gentlemen, who hadgathered about him in the centre of the large drawing-room, by anamusing account of his hunting experiences in the backwoods. Thesounds of subdued mirth that followed his recital induced a passingbevy of ladies to join them. Lady Sarah took the arm of Helene, andgave him her flattering attention along with the rest. A young mannever talks poorly from the knowledge that he has gained the ear ofhis audience. 

"Really, a remarkably bright young fellow, " confided Lord E---- to SirPeregrine, at the close of another story, which was accentuated bylittle bursts of gentle laughter. 

A slight breeze blew from a suddenly opened door upon the wax tapers, and the next moment a strange figure made its way through thatbrilliantly dressed assemblage, and laid its hand upon the arm ofEdward. With his face flushed and eyes brightened by the sweetlybreathed flattery that, like wine, was apt to go to his brain, heturned and beheld Wanda. She had evidently walked all the way from herhome for the express purpose of finding him. Her dress, made up ofvarious coloured garments, the cast-off raiment of those whose charityhad fed and lodged her on the way, was covered with dust; hermagnificent hair lay in a great straggling heap upon her shoulders. "My father has gone to the spirit-land, " she said, "and now I come toyou. " Lady Sarah and Rose advanced immediately, with protestations ofpity and sympathy, and entreaties that she would go at once with themto find food and rest. But she was immovable as granite. "I have cometo _you_, " she said, her beautiful eyes fixed upon Edward, and sheuttered a few words of endearment in the Huron tongue. Nobodyunderstood them but the young man, his sister, and hostess. The latterlady felt herself growing very cold, but she accompanied the pair to aprivate parlour, and returned to her guests with an amused smile uponher lips. 

"Poor thing!" she said in a clear voice, distinctly audible to all. "Her foster-father died last week, and left no end of messages andrequests to Mr. Macleod, his friend and constant companion in hishunting expeditions. The girl has that exaggerated idea of filial dutycommon to the Indian races. She could not rest until she had fulfilledhis dying wishes. "

No; Lady Sarah certainly did not merit the compliment she had givenher husband--she was not the soul of honour--but what would you? Withher cheery voice and confident laugh she had dispelled at a breath thevile suspicion of scandal. The company experienced a wonderful relief, and the conversation naturally turned to the peculiarities of savages. Rose had vanished, and it was generally supposed that she was with herbrother and that queer Indian girl. In reality she was locked in herroom, saturating her pillow with her tears. 

Edward was alone with Wanda. For a moment the blood ran hot in hisveins, and he longed to act the part of a man. He longed to take thehand of this beautiful travel-stained savage, and lead her back intothe midst of those fashionably dressed, superficially smiling, ladiesand gentlemen. He longed to declare, nay, rather to thunder forth, thewords: "This is my promised wife! Through weary days and nights, withsore feet and sorer heart she has been coming to me. Burned by the sunand blinded with the dust, hungry and thirsty, and aching in everyfibre, her trust never faltered, her love never failed. And her loveis matched by mine. The loyalty and devotion of my life I lay at herpoor bleeding feet. "

That would have satisfied his imagination, but in real life imaginationmust always go a-hungering. He sat down beside her with a face farmore weary than her own. 

"Wanda, " he burst forth, "my poor fatherless, friendless child, whatcan I say to you? I am a villain, a coward, a reptile! I thought Iloved you, and I do not. No, though my heart aches for you, I do notlove you. Oh, you look as though I were murdering you, and it isbetter for me to murder you now by a few sharp terrible words, than bya life-time of neglect and loathing. "

The colour had all ebbed from her face. She fell on her knees besidehim, and her liquid childish eyes and sweet lips were upraised to his. 

"No, no, my little fawn, I must not kiss you. It is wicked to kisswhat we do not love. And I do _not_ love you. " He was shelteringhimself behind that assertion, but of a sudden he broke into crying, and his tears fell upon her face. "Child, " he said, rising and pacingthe room, "do you know what it is to many a man, who cares a greatdeal for your lips and eyes, and nothing for your mind and soul? It isto marry a beast! You would be wretched with me. We should growinexpressibly tired of each other. Tell me, " he cried, stopping shortin his swift walk to and fro, and confronting her with parched lipsand wet eyes, "could you endure to have me say cruel things to youevery day? Could you bear to have me think bitter things of you in myheart, though I left them unsaid? How could you live under my coldnessand neglect? You must learn to hate me--to scorn me, --to think asharshly of me as I shall always think of myself. "

She was faint and dizzy, but she rose to her feet, and groped feeblyto the door, cowering from him as she went, with her hands over hereyes. Then she turned back with a low wail of irrepressible anguish. 

"I cannot leave you, " she said, "I cannot give you up!"

Again he was bound in her chains. Her feverish hands held his, herburning eyes drank up the dew in his own, her pathetic presencethrilled him with a sense of love stronger than any he had dreamed ofor imagined. Neglect, cruelty, bitterness, scorn! What did the wordsmean? Like poisonous weeds they had grown fast and rank before hiseyes, but in the burning face of this all-conquering love they hadshrunk, withered and dead to the earth. Yes, it was the vile earthfrom which they had sprung, and it was in the radiant heavens thatthis great love was shining. Wanda's victory was nearly complete. Theonly thing lacking to make it so was that she should renounce italtogether. And this she did--not with conscious art but by that sureinstinct of womanliness which teaches that a man won by other thanindirect methods is not won at all. Then she said, pushing him gentlyaside, "I will go away now, and never see you again, because I am aburden to you. No, " for he had put his hand upon her wrist, "you mustnot touch me, because--" the words choked her for a moment, and thenthey fell from her lips with a sound of fathomless despair--"it is asthough you were my little child that I was forced to leave forever. "Again she had reached the door, but this time it was his arm aroundher that brought her back, his protestations of undying affection thatrevived her drooping frame. 

There was a light tap at the door, which opened to admit Lady SarahMaitland. "My maids will attend to this poor child, " she said, addressing Edward. "She will have a bath, and food, and a bed. Meantime, I want you to help to entertain my guests. "

"Really?" The young man frowned at the idea of rejoining that gaythrong. He was in a state of mental exaltation--so far up in theclouds that the idea of attending a reception given by his brillianthostess seemed by contrast spiritless and earthy. 

"It would be a great kindness to let me off, " he pleaded. 

"It would be the greatest kindness to compel you to come, " sheinsisted. There was a significance in the eye and tone of thisthorough-bred woman of the world that were not without effect uponEdward, who at once accompanied her. His bright face, collectedmanner, and ready speech, lessened the impression made upon thecompany by the episode which had drawn general attention to him earlyin the evening. Not till after the guests had begun to retire did heagain see Wanda. Running upstairs to get a wrap for the fair shouldersof a young lady, who preferred a moonlit seat on the lawn to therather oppressive warmth within doors, he chanced into a littlesitting-room in which Wanda, left alone for a moment, was resting withclosed eyes in a great easy chair. Fresh from her bath, with her dampheavy hair lying along the folds of a loose white _neglige_, shelooked almost too tired to smile. Edward advanced with beating heart, but stopped half-way, suddenly smitten by the sight of a pair oflittle bruised feet, carefully bandaged, resting upon a stool--thelittle feet that had travelled such a long hard road, that had beentorn and wounded for his sake. A great wave of shame swept over him. 

"I am not worthy to stand in your presence, " he said penitently, kneeling at her side. 

A low murmur of joy escaped the Indian Maiden's lips. 

She drew his head down for a moment under the dusky curtain of heroverhanging hair, and then her eyes closed again. 

Edward rose and beheld in the open doorway Helene DeBerczy; her largegaze, darker than a thunder cloud, was illumined by a long lightningflash of merciless irony. 

CHAPTER XXI. 

THE PASSING OF WANDA. 

After night comes morning in the material world, but in that innersphere of thought and feeling, which is the only reality, itfrequently happens that after night comes a greater depth of darkness. The early light of successive summer mornings falling into thesleeping-room of Edward Macleod seemed to mock the heavy gloom whichperpetually enshrouded his heart. He was back in his old home, for thepleasant circle at Stamford Cottage had broken up shortly after theunexpected advent of Wanda. A few days of enforced civilization hadaffected her more severely than the hard journey preceding it, and shehad returned to her native wilds with the feeling of a bird regainingits freedom. Where in all the limitless forest she could be found atany particular time her lover could not tell. He was her loverstill--he must always remain her lover. He had attempted to limit anddefine the strange irresistible attraction she exerted over him, hehad voluntarily resolved upon life-long celibacy rather than subjecther to the bitterness of seeing him belong to another; and if inthought he ever yielded to this great, untamed unrepressed love ofhers, it was with something of the exaltation and ardour of one whomakes a supreme sacrifice. 

Edward Macleod was no sentimentalist, and yet he was conscious of avery delicate, infinitely sad satisfaction in the belief that he wouldexpiate with his life the folly he had committed in permitting her tolove him. In the loftiest sense he would be true to her. He could notbe selfish and shameless enough to set forever aside the desolationthat his hands had callously wrought. As her sorrow could never bemitigated it should always be shared. He would do everything for her. She should be educated, and inducted by gentle degrees into therefinement of civilization--he fervently hoped that it might not provethe refinement of cruelty. She should not be left desolate, forsaken, uncared-for; she should share everything he had except his heart. Thatwas to be kept empty for her sake--for the sake of the sweet duskymaiden who had once possessed it. 

Who had _once_ possessed it! Ah, was it true then that she no longerheld a claim? He had closed the door hesitatingly and with sharp painin her face, but now the bare recollection of the little brown handsfumbling upon it thrilled him with a blissful sense that perhaps, after all, his life was not to be the utter sacrifice that he hadsupposed. Perhaps this peerless creature by some magical process ofdevelopment might yet meet and satisfy his intellectual demands. Shehad already the soul of an angel--yes, and the beauty of an angel. Andyet he was not satisfied. 

It was this haunting dissatisfaction that kept him a prisoner in hisroom, one brilliant afternoon, when the fresh world without seemed tooinsupportable a mockery of his jaded and cynical state of mind. Hestepped out upon the little balcony that ran under the windows of hisown and his sister's apartments, and looked with a sore heart upon theeternal miracle of earth and sky. He sank heavily down upon a lowseat, feeling very old and worn. If the back is fitted to the burden, it occurred to him that the painful process of adjustment would haveto be continued through an interminable period of years. Perhaps it isonly the stiff, bent shoulders of age that are really fitted to bearthe burdens that impetuous youth find unendurably irksome. 

While he sat in utter silence, thrilled occasionally with shrill sweetbursts of irrepressible bird song, and inwardly tortured by thehateful whisperings of doubt, remorse and despair, the door of hissister's apartment was opened, and a murmur of voices told him thatRose and Helene had returned together from an afternoon drive. Throughthe lightly draped open window their conversation, distinctly heard, forced him into the position of an unintentional eaves-dropper. Thereseemed at first no reason why he should withdraw, and when the reasonbecame apparent he found it impossible to make his presence known. 

"Is your brother in the house?" asked Helene, waiting for the answerbefore laying aside hat and gloves, and dropping languidly into aneasy chair. 

"Oh, no, " returned Rose, "he is never at home at this hour of the day. Why? Did you wish to see him?"

"I? No! I wish never to see him!" The words were uttered in apassionate undertone. 

Rose came directly and beseechingly over to her friend. "Dear Helene, "she said, "what is this terrible trouble that is preying upon yourlife? Every day you grow thinner and whiter and colder--more like amoonbeam than a mortal woman. Soon I fear you will fade from my graspaltogether, and I shall have nothing left but the recollection thatyou did not care enough for me to confide in me. I am sure there issomething dreadful between you and Edward. "

"Something, yes, but not enough; there should be an ocean--a wholeworld between us. "

"I wish I could help you a little. "

"Help me, dearest? It is like your goodness to think of such a thing;but it is impossible. No, there is nothing tragic, or terrible, or awecompelling, in my fate. It is nothing, I suppose, beyond the commonlot of a great portion of humanity. It is simply--" she hesitated amoment, while a choking sob rose in her throat; she clasped her whitehands above her head in a stern effort at self control, and then flungthem down with an irrepressible moan--"it is simply that I am hungry, and thirsty, and cold, and tired and I want to go back to my old home, to my only home in the heart of the man I love. My poor child, do Istartle you by talking in this passionate lawless, way? You invited myconfidence, and it is such a relief to give it to you. To every oneelse in the world I must keep up the desolate show of appearingheartless and lifeless, incapable of compassion, of suffering andyearning. But with you, for a little while, I want to be myself. I amnot a mere drawing-room ornament, prized by its owner, and gazed at bycurious beholders. I am a wretched woman. Oh, Rose, Rose, I am aninexpressibly wretched woman!"

She caught the little warm hands, sympathizingly outstretched towardsher, and pressed them to her neck, where the veins throbbed fast. 

"No, don't pity me yet--only listen to me. I am so tired of living onhusks, I seem to be nothing but a husk myself, brainless, soulless, and empty. I am so tired of sham and pretence, of keeping upappearances. I hate appearances. They are all false, unreal, loathsome. Yes, I am a well-trained puppet; I smile and chatter, dance and sing, am haughtily self-satisfied; but at night--at night my sick heartcries like a starving child, and I pace the floor with it until I fearthat its wailings will drive me mad. I heap insults on my darling, andprofess to scorn his tenderness, and all the time I could fly to him, and rain caresses upon him, and hold him closely folded in the arms ofmy love perpetually. No, he is not to blame, and Wanda is not toblame, for all this wretchedness. I don't understand how a woman canhate her rival. The fact of their loving the same object gives them acloser kinship than that between twin sisters. Wanda's sufferings aretoo much like my own to permit me even to dislike her. She has richbeauty, a rarely luxuriant vitality, and the immense advantage ofbeing free to show her love in a natural way. I have nothing but mylove for her lover! If I could only trample on it, despise it, spurnit, but I can't, I can't! My love is stronger than my pride, strongerthan my life. It is not a mere fancy of yesterday, it has grown andstrengthened with my years. "

"I remember one evening in York, last spring, " Helene continued, "whenit was warm enough to leave doors and windows open to admit the freebreeze from the lake; I happened to pass a wretched little shanty inthe lower part of the town. A commonplace woman within was cookingsupper in plain sight of the street, and I thought what a miserablelot must be hers. Then her husband, a grimy-looking workman came home, and she put her toil-worn hands about his neck, and gave him a welcomethat left me dazed and desolate, filled with unbearable pain and envy, because I knew then, as I know now, that for my darling and me therecan be no sweet home-coming, no interposition of my love between himand the sordid cares of the day. The measure of my need will never befilled. Ah, _mon Dieu_, it is very hard--it is bitterly hard!"

The low passionate tones died away into absolute silence. Rose'stender arms were closely clasped about her friend, and her wet cheekwas pressed against the pale face on her shoulder; but she could findno words to match the heart-sickness that had at last found free ventin speech. Perhaps the deepest sympathy can be expressed only bysilence. In a few moments Helene looked up gratefully and with aquivering smile. "Dear little, pet, " she said, "it is a sin for me toburden you with the shameless story of my griefs. I hardly know what Ihave been saying, so you must not attach too much importance to it. After all, it is only a mood. " The inevitable reaction after deepfeeling had come. 

"I wish with all my heart that I could help you, " said Rose, soothingly but despairingly. 

"So you can. Give me those two blue eyes of yours to kiss. They areblue as wood-violets, and look grieved and sad--so exactly likeEdward's. " She leaned over and kissed them fervently. "Oh, I must notyield to such thoughts. I must control myself. I must be strong. Imust conquer everything. Heaven help me!" The last words sounded likea piteous prayer, as indeed they were. "Come and sing to me, Rose. Sing my soul out of this perdition if you can. "

The two girls departed to the music-room, and, shortly after, Edward, with the soundless step of a murderer, crept down stairs and far outinto the forest. Like one driven by an indwelling demon into thewilderness he walked swiftly with great strides away from his trouble. No, not away from it, for it surrounded him like the atmosphere. Sometimes he stopped from sheer exhaustion, and leaned heavily againsta tree, while the perspiration stood on his brow in large drops. Atone of these times there was a rustling among the thick leaves behindhim, and Wanda stole timidly, yet with the fearless innocence of achild, to his side. He groaned aloud as she hid her face upon hisbreast. "Ah, you are sad as a night in the moon of dying leaves, " shesaid, pulling his arms about her. 

"It is because I do not love you, " he returned, and the cruel sentencewas softened by the measureless sadness of his tone. 

"Oh, but you shall love me!" Each passionate word seemed a link in astrong chain that bound him inexorably to her. "What does it matter, "she pleaded, "that you care little for me now? My love is great enoughfor both. I can give my life up, but I can never give you up. You aredearer to me than life!"

She leaned over him, and he felt as in a dream the old potential charmof her flower-sweet breath and glowing beauty. Still, though hesubmitted to her caresses, he did not return them. Within his ears theimpassioned words of Helene were sounding perpetually, deafening himto every other appeal. His visible presence was with Wanda, his breastwas deeply stirred with pity and affection and remorse for her, buthis soul was left behind with that stricken girl, to whosebroken-hearted confessions he had been a forced listener. 

The day had lost its brightness, as though twilight had suddenly laidher dusky hand across the burning gaze of noon; the shadows deepenedperceptibly about them; the sky threatened, the darkened trees seemedfull of dread, the last gleam of light faded swiftly into the blackapproaching clouds, and they were speedily engulfed in one of thoseimpatient summer showers, whose sharp fury quickly spends itself. Edward was reminded of that time a year ago when they were alone inthe storm. Again the Indian girl bent reverently to the ground, exclaiming in awed accents, "The Great Spirit is angry. " "He has needto be angry, " muttered the young man, hurrying his companion to adenser part of the forest, where the thickly intermingled boughs mightform a roof above them. But before they reached it a terrific burst ofthunder broke upon their ears, and a tree beside them was suddenlysnapped by the wind, and flung to the ground. The girl, with the quickinstinct of a savage, stepped aside, pulling hard as she did so uponthe arm of Edward. But he, walking as one in a dream, was scarcelyless unconscious of what was going on around him than when, a momentlater, he lay, felled to the earth by the fallen tree. 

Wanda uttered an ejaculation of horror and alarm, and exerting all herstrength she dragged the inanimate figure away from its enshroudingcoverlet of leaves. The rain beat heavily upon the bloodless, upturnedface. "What can I do for you?" she cried in despair, taking hishandkerchief and binding tightly the deep wound on his head. He openedhis eyes languidly, and murmured scarcely above his breath, "BringHelene!" She did not pause even to kiss the pale lips, but flew swiftas Love itself upon Love's errand. And yet, in her consuming desire toobey the least wish of her idol, it seemed to her that every fibre ofher eager frame was clogged and weighted with lead. The rain blindedher eyes, the tangled underbrush tripped her feet, and more than onceshe fell panting and trembling on the dead leaves. Only for a moment;then she sprang up again, leaping, running, pushing away the branchesthat stretched across her path, spurning at every step the solid earththat interposed so much of its dull bulk between her and her heart'sdesire. Reaching the lake she jumped quickly into a boat Edward hadgiven her, which lay near, and she made haste for Kempenfeldt Bay. 

The rain ceased before she reached Pine Towers, and with the firstradiant glance of the sun Helene had come to the wood's edge for thesake of the forest odours, which are never so pungent and delicious asimmediately after a thunder-storm. In the thinnest, most transparentof summer white gowns, with her lily-pale face and drooping figure, she looked like some rare flower which the storm in pity had spared. So thought Wanda, who, now that the object of her search was in sight, approached very slowly and wearily, her breast rent by fierce pangs ofjealousy. Why had Edward wished at such a critical time for thisuseless weakling? What possible good could she be to him in what mightbe his dying moments? And all the time, Helene, fixing her sad eyesupon this wild girl of the woods, noting her drenched, ragged andearth-stained raiment, and the dark sullen expression that jealousyhad painted upon her face, saw more than all and above all theoverwhelming beauty, which belittled all externals, and made themscarcely worth notice. "What wonder, " thought Helene, "that Edward isgiven up heart and soul to this peerless creature, when the mere sightof her quickens my slow pulses?"

The two loves of Edward Macleod stood face to face. Wanda explainedher presence in a few cold words. "Some of the family can take acarriage and everything necessary and go to him by the road, " shesaid. "You will reach him much sooner by letting me row you across thebay in my boat. "

Helene trembled visibly, and a great longing possessed her to goinstantly to Edward. Then a strong fear seized her. She felt aprofound distrust of this beautiful savage with the coarse garments, rough speech, and strangely marred visage. Perhaps to revenge herselffor Edward's suspected unfaithfulness she had killed him in theforest, and wished now to satiate her appetite for vengeance by takingthe woman who loved him to view her ghastly work. Perhaps the wholestory was a fabrication to lure her to some lonely spot in theboundless woods, where she would be horribly murdered. Perhaps--

"Come!" urged Wanda, with passionate entreaty. "He is dying. "

"Is it you who have killed him?" demanded Helene, sternly voicing allher fears in that black suspicion. 

The girl turned away with a quick writhing motion. "No, " she groaned, "it is he who has killed me--with two words--_bring Helene_. " Shedarted to the house with the news of Edward's accident, and then tothe beach, where Helene was already before her. The tiny skiff waspushed off, and the two girls were alone together. 

As long as she lived Helene DeBerczy remembered that swift boat rideacross the bay. Great masses of black clouds still hung heavily in thewestern sky, occasionally pierced by a brilliant flash of sunshine, that emphasized by contrast the dreariness succeeding it. Below, thewaters were dark and troubled, while from the flat shores rose themajestic monotony of the forest, chill, shadowy, inscrutable. Butthese were as the frame of a picture, that printed itself indeliblyupon the heart of this high-born woman of the world--the picture of atropically beautiful face, now for the first time deathly pale, andseamed with lines of unutterable anguish; of bare rounded arms, showing in their raised muscles, and in the tense grasp of the oars, a power of self-repression awful in its strength; of deeply-heavingbosom, beneath which was raging that old, old conflict between trueand false love--the true love that gives everything, the false lovethat grasps everything; of the passionate, eloquent, suffering eyes, full of jealousy and yearning, fierce hate and fiercer desire, andbehind all, yes, dominating all, the struggle for martyr-likeself-effacement whose cry forever is, not for my sake, but for thesake of one that I love. Great waves of pity overwhelmed every otheremotion in Helene's breast, as she leaned forward. "My poor child, "she said, "how intensely you love him! Do not let my coming hurt youso, I have long ago yielded him to you. "

"But he has not yielded himself to me, " moaned the girl, her ashenlips framing the cry that came from her soul. The boat grated in thesand, and she sprang out, and pulled it upon the beach. Then, takingin a feverish clasp the delicately-draped arm of the other, shehurried her to the spot where Edward still lay, deadly pale butconscious. He did not look at Wanda--he had no eyes save for Helene. With a little cry of passionate love and sorrow she flung herselfbeside him, and drew the white wounded face close to her aching heart. His broken syllables of love were in her ears, his head was nestled, like that of a weary child, within her arms, his blood was stainingthe white laces on her breast. For a moment Wanda paused and lookedupon them; then noiselessly as a dream she vanished away. 

But where in the wide, pitiless world is there a place of refuge for awoman's broken heart? Instinctively Wanda went back to the boat, androwed far out upon the troubled waters. The afternoon's storm had beenbut the warning of a wilder one yet to come; the heavy skies shut downon all sides, adamantine and inexorable as the fate enshrouding her;from the mute mysterious woods came the sighing of the wind, sinkingnow into deep moaning, then rising into a shrill anguish, that wasanswered by the sobbing of the waves upon the beach. All nature seemedstirred to the heart at the hopeless misery of this her cherishedchild. But Wanda's eyes were blank, and her ears deafened to thesights and sounds around her. With the desperation of despair sherowed fast and strenuously out into the heaving lake, while hourspassed, and the black night, like a pall, enveloped all thingsearthly. At last, with her strength utterly gone, she dropped the oarsand drifted wherever the wild tide might choose to take her. Lowmutterings of thunder shook the air, and with them she mingled thenotes of an Indian death-chant. Before the weird, heart-breaking toneshad ceased, the black heavens opened, and tears of pity were rainedupon this desolate human soul. She lay outstretched, her glorious faceupturned to the starless skies, her tired hands far apart over thesides of the boat. Towards them with wolfish haste rushed thewhite-capped breakers, rising in fury as they reached the littlecraft, and flinging themselves wildly across it. Wanda paid no heed. Her voice rose once again, thrilling the air with its wild sweetmelody, and then she sank, without even a convulsive clutch at thefrail bark which overturned upon her. 

So perished the life that was naught but a mere empty husk, sincelove, its strong sweet occupant, had departed. Alas, poor Wanda! alas, poor little one, whose sore feet and sorer heart could find noresting-place in all this wide hard world. The anguished winds moanedon far into the night; the sad waves, now racked and scourged by thetempest, sobbed ceaselessly upon the beach; the pitiful heavensoutpoured their flood of tears, but the tortured soul that hadcommitted the god-like sin of loving too much had found rest at last. 

CHAPTER XXII. 

LOVE'S REWARDS. 

A few days afterwards the body of the Algonquin maiden, recovered fromthe waves, was lying in an upper chamber at Pine Towers. Whatever mayhave been the supreme agony in which this suffering soul parted fromits human habitation, no trace of it remained upon the inanimate form. Free from scar or stain it lay, the languid limbs forever motionless, the cold hands crossed upon a pulseless breast, the beautiful figure, heavily shadowed in enshrouding tresses, stretched in painless repose, and on the wonderful face the expression of one who has gained, notrest and peace--when had she ever hungered for these?--but the look, almost startling in its intensity, of one who has found love. Somewhere, sometime, we who struggle through life--nay, rather, struggle _after_ life--in this world that God so loved, shall find ourlongings satisfied; the one yearning cry of our heart shall bestilled. The poet shall touch the stars, whose pale light now shinesso uncertainly upon his brow; the painter shall put upon canvas abeauty too deep for words; the worshipper of nature shall thrill withthe knowledge of unspoken secrets; the seeker after truth shall learnthe mysteries of heaven. The infinite Father cannot deny his children;He will not cheat them. But the lessons of patience are harder tolearn than those of labour. 

Upon this poor child of the wilderness had fallen a happiness sobewildering and so complete that it seemed as though the perfect lipsmust open to give utterance to a joy too full to be contained. But tothe man self-accused of robbing her of love and life, this sweetreflected glory from the other side of the dark gateway brought noconsolation. In that silent room, flooded with cold moonlight, EdwardMacleod stood alone in the dead girl's presence, and felt the bitterwaves of remorse sweep over his soul. Her beauty, touched by the lightof absolute happiness, thrilled him now as never before. From merewantonness, he had crushed out the heart of this faultlessly lovelyand innocent creature, and his head fell upon his breast in shame andself-contempt. God might forgive him, but how could he ever forgivehimself?

The door blew open, and, silently as a vision, Helene came in andstood beside him. It was a strange place for a lover's tryst--thatbare room with its lifeless occupant, flooded with white unearthlymoonlight "Let me stay with you, Edward, " she pleaded, with quiveringlips. "No, " she added, in answer to the unspoken fear in his eyes, "Ishall not try to comfort you. " She knew intuitively that no consolationcould avail in this hour of silent self-torture. "Only, " she whispered, "you must let me share your grief, for I also have wronged her. "

And so, with clasped hands, they bent together and kissed thebeautiful still lips that could never utter an accusing word againstthem. Their love founded upon death had suddenly become as mysteriousand sacred as the life of a child whose mother perished when she gaveit birth. 

Some months elapsed after the burial of Wanda before Edward venturedto bring his dearest hopes under the notice of Madame DeBerczy. Thisaugust personage, in whose memory yet lingered frequent rumours of theyoung man's flirtations with the nut-brown forest maid, cherished noparticular partiality for him. If Helene's lover had ever entertainedthe unfounded illusion that her lily-white hand had been too lightlywon, he might willingly have submitted to the just punishment of hispresumption; but in view of his long struggle to win her favour, itwas dispiriting to learn that there was still a greater height toconquer, --the lofty indifference of one whom he wished, in spite ofher weaknesses, to make his mother-in-law. Ice, however, will meltwhen exposed to a certain degree of heat, and this was where Edward'snaturally sunny disposition and the warmth of his love did him goodservice. Before the good lady fairly realized the change that waspassing over her feelings with regard to her daughter's suitor, shehad ceased to speak of him as that frivolous young Macleod, and hadbegun to see for herself in his handsome face the sincerity andsadness that follow in the wake of every deep and painful experience. 

From approval it is but a step to appreciation, and this merges bynatural degrees into affection. Helene, who, though she did notconsider Edward faultless, was apt to find his faults more alluringthan the virtues of some others, had at last the satisfaction ofknowing that her mother inclined to take a like view of them; and hernow impatient lover was made glad by a formal acceptance from MadameDeBerczy of his request for her daughter's hand. 

Meantime, Rose and Allan, whose course of love, if it had not sufferedso tempestuous a passage, had still flowed for the most part undergloomy skies, were at last in the enjoyment of undisputed sunshine. Inthis unaccustomed atmosphere the fairest flower of the Macleod familybloomed anew, and her lover at last beheld his prospects _couleur derose_. Allan had accepted an invitation from the old Commodore tovisit Pine Towers, and the impression he made upon his prospectivefather-in-law grew daily deeper and pleasanter, till, to the eldergentleman's sorrow at the thought of parting from his fondly-loveddaughter, was added real regret that he had never before appreciatedthe sterling qualities of her chosen husband. 

Politically, their views, which had once been wide asunder as thepoles, had now almost unconsciously met and kissed each other. Nor wasthis the result of abandoned convictions. Both men continued tocherish their old notions of things, and to hold to the traditions ofthe party to which each was attached. But Allan Dunlop and theCommodore had come to know and to respect each other, and, as theresult, each took a more dispassionate view of the questions whichdisturbed the country and which had ranged them politically on oppositesides. This change was specially noticeable in the elder of the two. Though allied to the party who prided themselves in being regarded asstiff, unbending Tories, Commodore Macleod had an acute sense of whatwas just and fair; and under a somewhat rough exterior he had akindly, sympathetic heart. This latter virtue in the old gentlemanmade him keenly alive to the grievances of the people, and particularlysensitive to appeals from settlers, the hardships of whose lot, thoughhe had himself little experience of them, were nevertheless oftenpresent to his mind. His manly character, moreover, though it wasoccasionally hid under a sailor's brusque testiness, disposed him toappreciate manliness in others, and to be sympathetic towards thosewhose aims were high and whose motives were good. Thus, despite hisinherent conservatism and pride of birth, he was gradually won over toregard Dunlop, first with tolerance, then with awakened interest andrespect, and finally with admiration and love. 

Dunlop, on the other hand, though he abated nothing in his enthusiasmfor the cause of the people, and never faltered in his loyalty toduty, came to regard the political situation, if not from the point ofview of his opponents, at least from a point of view which waseminently statesmanlike and discreet. Influenced by a broadercomprehension of affairs, and by a more complaisant regard for thecountry's rulers, who had done and were doing much for the youngcommonwealth, however sorely the political system pressed upon thepeople, Dunlop placed a check upon his gift of parliamentary raillery, and refrained from pressing many reforms which time, he knew, wouldquietly and with less acrimony bring about. 

To these ameliorating influences both men unresistingly submittedthemselves, and, as a consequence, each came nearer to the other;while the bond of love between Rose and Allan cemented the alliancepolitical, and threw down all barriers that had once frowned on thealliance matrimonial. It was a consciousness of this change of feelingwhich led Allan Dunlop, on his return for a time to his politicalduties at York, to write to Rose in the following strain, and toassure her of the complete cordiality that now existed, and was sureto continue to exist, between her father and himself:

 "YORK, November 30th, 1827. 

"MY DEAR ROSE: From the paradise of the garden of Pine Towers, withyou as its ineffably sweet, pervading presence, to the inferno ofthese Legislative Halls, with their scenes of discord and turbulence, duty and fate have ruthlessly and unfeelingly banished me. Coming fromyour restful presence, how little disposed am I to enter upon thestrifes of these stormy times, and to take up the gage of battlethrown recklessly down by some knight of the Upper House, whose idea, either of manly dignity or of Parliamentary warfare, is not that ofthe "_preux chevalier, sans peur et sans reproche_. "

Yet I would be unworthy of the little queen I serve, whose smiles andfavour are a continuous inspiration to me, were I weakly to forego myduty, and desire to seek the solace of her presence without havingfirst acquitted myself with honour on this mimic field of battle. Whatis to be the outcome of this strife of tongues, and what the future ofour country, riven asunder as it is by those, on the one side, who arejealous merely for their own rights and privileges, and, on the other, by those who care only for the distraction and clamour of fruitlesscontention, it were hard to say. With the ever-increasingcomplications, the fires of discontent must some day burst into flame. Even now it wants but the breath of a bold, daring spirit to set thewhole Province in a blaze; and I shudder at the prospect unless aspirit of conciliation speedily shows itself, and the Executive makessome surrender of its autocratic powers. 

In the discussion of political affairs I had recently with yourfather, I am glad to say that we agree very closely as to the incitingcauses of the public discontent, and have a common opinion as to thebest, --indeed, the only satisfactory, --means of applying a remedy. This unity of feeling must rivet and perpetuate our friendship, andaid in bringing about, what I ardently desire, some necessary andimmediate reforms in our mode of government. I need hardly say to you, who are so dear to me, how fervently I hail this mutual understandingon political matters, and how much I auger from it of weal to thecountry and of pleasure and happiness to ourselves. Heaven grant thatall I expect from it may be realized!

I have no news to give you of social matters in York, save of LadyMary Willis's Fancy Ball, which is to come off at the close of theyear. Mr. Galt, of the Canada Company, the Robinsons, Hewards, Hagermans, Widmers, Spragges, and Baldwins--everybody but a few of theGovernment House people--are taking a great interest in the comingaffair. There is to be a sleighing-party soon also, from the Macaulaysto the Crookshank's farm, and on to the Denisons. I have been asked tojoin it, and wish you were to be here in time, to make one--thedearest to me!--of the party. 

With my respects to your father, kind regards to Edward and Mad'lleHelene, and abiding love to your sweet self and the little people ofyour household, I remain, ever and devotedly yours, ALLAN DUNLOP. "

But there was little need now of formal--or indeed of any--correspondencebetween Allan and Rose, for they were soon to be forever together, inthe bonds not only of a common sympathy and a common interest in theircountry's welfare, but in that closer union of hearts which both hadsecretly longed for and both had feared would never come about. It wasarranged that in the spring of the following year there would be adouble marriage, and that the day that saw Edward united to Helenewould also see the union of Allan and Rose. Even now, preparations forthe interesting event had been set on foot, and society in "MuddyLittle York" was on the tip-toe of excitement over the coming weddings. 

As the winter passed, and the month drew near which was to witness thetwo-fold alliance, the young people of the Capital took a deliriousinterest in every circumstance, however trivial, connected with theaffair. Of course, the double ceremony was to take place at the Churchof St. James, and it was known that the Lieutenant-Governor and LadySarah Maitland, before finally quitting the Province, were to bepresent, and that the redoubtable politico-ecclesiastic, theArchdeacon of York, was to tie the knots, and, in his richest doric, pronounce both couples severally "mon and wife. " The wedding breakfast, it was also a matter of current talk, was to be at the homestead of adistinguished member of the local judiciary; and it had also leakedout that, thereafter, the united couples were to embark on HisMajesty's sloop-of-war, "_The Princess Charlotte_, " and be conveyed asfar as Kingston, on the wedding journey to Quebec, where Edward, withhis bride, was to proceed to England to rejoin his regiment, and Allanand Rose were to spend the honeymoon in some delightful retreat on theSt. Lawrence. 

What need is there to continue the chronicle?--save to assure themodern reader of this old-time story that everything happily cameabout as foreshadowed in the gossip we have just related, and thatthe after-fortunes of the four happy people who took that earlywedding journey on the St. Lawrence were as bright as those of thehappiest Canadian bride and bridegroom that have ever taken the samejourney since. 

 THE END.