CHAPTER XXI
Matter for Heartache
Three days had passed away, and life had dropped into itsaccustomed monotony again. Mrs. Burton said there never wasanything to vary the sameness of existence at Roaring Water Portageunless someone was in danger of his or her life, and really eventshad a way of proving her to be right. When Katherine had rushedoff in such a hurry that day, to help Mary Selincourt out of herfix, Mrs. Burton had left her sewing, and, taking her sister's workin hand, had finished cleaning the shelves, then restored to themthe various canisters and boxes according to her own ideas ofneatness, instead of with any remembrance as to how they had beenarranged previously.
On reaching home that afternoon, wet, cold, weary, and with chillforeboding in her heart, Katherine's first sensation was one oflively gratitude to Nellie for having dispersed the confusion shehad left behind when she departed so hurriedly. But when acustomer came in a little later for a quarter of a pound ofmustard, and it took half an hour of hard searching to find it,Katherine began to wonder whether after all it would not have beeneasier to have been left to deal singlehanded with the confusion onthe floor, for at least she had known where to find things.
Then someone wanted corn-flour, which entailed a still longersearch; but the culminating point came when Mrs. M'Kree sent downin hot haste for carbonate of soda and dried mint, to make someremedy for an unexpected attack of dyspepsia. It took exactly onehour and ten minutes by the clock to find the carbonate of soda,followed by ten minutes' active search for the mint. After thisexperience Katherine decided that tidiness might be too dearlybought, and set to work to re-arrange matters after a morepractical pattern.
But all this took time, and, with her other work added on,effectually prevented her having time for moping, which was ofcourse a very good thing. She had not seen Jervis since the slowwalk from the rocks to Seal Cove; but she knew that he had spentthe next day in bed with a bad chill and some fever. Mary was atSeal Cove for two days, but had been brought up river on theprevious evening, and was now being looked after by Mrs. Burton,who was never quite so happy as when she had some invalid to carefor.
Miles and Phil had gone over to Fort Garry that morning. Katherineought to have gone, but in view of the confusion which stillexisted on the shelves it hardly seemed safe to leave Miles incharge, because he had a habit, when he could not find the rightthing, of supplying something else which looked almost like it. Sowhen Katherine found him tying up an ounce of caustic soda, inplace of the tartaric acid which had been ordered, it seemed hightime to interfere, and she had sent him off with Phil to do herwork, while she remained at home sorting out the contents of theshelves.
Mrs. Burton had been over the river to look after Mary, and hadcome back again, leaving Hero as a sort of deputy nurse andcaretaker, in addition to the portage man who was on duty that day.Mr. Selincourt had been down to Seal Cove, and had returned; thenKatherine, at work on her knees in the far corner of the store,heard someone enter, and, coming out of her corner, found that oneof the portage men had brought her a note from Mary. It ran:--
"Dear Katherine, Can you come over and spend an hour with me this evening when the store is closed? I feel that I want to see you more than anyone else in the world. Please come. MARY."
"Miss Selincourt said that a message would do for answer," said theman who had brought the note.
Katherine hesitated about what that answer should be. In her heartof hearts she knew very well that she did not want to go away thatevening. Jervis had not been up the river for three days, so hewould be almost sure to come that evening, and she wanted to be athome when he came, to see for herself that he was none the worsefor the long immersion in the water, and the painful barefootedwalk to Seal Cove.
But the hesitancy did not last long, and, setting her face insterner lines than usual, Katherine told the man that she wouldcertainly pay Miss Selincourt a visit that evening when her workwas done.
If the work dragged a little after that, and the day lost somethingof the zest which had marked it before, no one guessed it butherself. She was bright and cheerful, teasing Miles, when he camehome, about some fancied indignity which he had received at thehands of the Indians, and rallying Mrs. Burton on the awfulconfusion wrought by her reforms in the store.
Not even to herself would Katherine admit how much she dreaded thesimple friendly visit she had promised to pay that evening. Shewas afraid that she would see some look or sign of what she fearedmost to know. Mary Selincourt was a reserved, self-controlledgirl, but it is her sort of nature which sometimes betrays itselfmost completely in moments of emotional strain, and Katherine atthis time was very much like an ostrich, being disposed to believethat the thing she could not see did not exist.
'Duke Radford spent most of his days sitting in the sunshine. Hetalked cheerfully, withal a trifle incoherently, to all of hisfriends and neighbours who came to gossip with him; but he wasalways at his best when Mr. Selincourt or Jervis Ferrars was thereto talk to him, for they spoke of things right away from theordinary course of daily life, and his mind was clearest about thematters which in other days had concerned him least. But neitherMr. Selincourt nor Jervis Ferrars had been near for three days, andthe invalid plainly moped, missing the companionship that cheeredhim most.
"I am so glad you are going over to sit with Mary to-night, becausethat will probably mean that Mr. Selincourt will come here, and hewill be sure to cheer Father up," Mrs. Burton said, when Katherinecame in for a hurried cup of tea before finishing her work in thestore.
"He does look tired and sad to-day," Katherine answered wistfully.She could bear her father's condition better when he was cheerfuland at ease, but when, as to-day, life seemed a burden to him, thenher heart ached at the sight of his suffering.
The last half-hour in the store that evening was harder than thewhole of the day which had gone before. The heat was intense, theflies swarmed black in every direction, and, failing other food,appeared anxious to make a meal from Katherine's face; while thecustomers who thronged the store in unusual numbers seemed all torequire the articles most awkward and uncomfortable to serve.There was a run on pickled pork, on brawn canned in Cincinnati, onsoap, molasses, and lard; while at least four customers demandedrock brimstone, flour of sulphur, or some other variety of thatvaluable but homely remedy common to every back-country store.
They were all disposed of at last, however, and then, bidding Milesshut the door quickly before anyone else came, Katherine went awayto change her dress and get ready for her visit to Mary. Her bestfrock went on to-night. She had so few frocks, and these few hadto be chosen with so much regard to utility, that there was auniformity about them which might well pall upon a girl who lovedpretty things. The best frock was a severely plain garment ofdark-blue woollen stuff, but it was relieved by a shirt of softwhite muslin, and, because a pretty girl always looks charming in aplain frock, Katherine in her dark blue was simply bewitching.
Phil rowed her over the river, bragging all the way of the mannerin which he was beginning to handle the oars. And then, atKatherine's suggestion, he waited to see if Mr. Selincourt would goover and visit the store for an hour or so.
Katherine found Mary lying on a couch under the open window,looking pale and worn, with a very tired expression. Mr.Selincourt was reading to her, but when Katherine suggested thewaiting boat, and 'Duke Radford's loneliness, she at once declaredher father ought to go over and pay the invalid a visit.
"You have been shut up with a fractious convalescent nearly thewhole day, dear Daddy, and I am sure it will be a pleasant changeto go and chat with Mr. Radford, who is always serene," she saidurgently; and so, more to please her than himself, her father saidhe would go.
"Come down and see me into the boat, Miss Katherine; it won't hurtMary to be alone, and I want to say thank you for coming to therescue so promptly the other day," he said.
"I don't want to be thanked, but I will show you the way to theboat with ple
asure, if you are afraid of getting lost _en route_,"Katherine said with a laugh, but falling into his mood, because shesaw he wished to say something to her alone.
When they were beyond earshot of the open window, he saidanxiously: "Don't you think Mary looks very badly?"
"She looks fearfully tired," Katherine answered.
"Yes, that is it. And the tiredness comes from mental strain.Poor Mary! It seems so hard for her to be happy, yet in all herlife she has never lacked anything she wanted save one, and eventhat I am in hopes she will get yet, if only she has the patienceto wait for it."
Katherine's heart gave a painful bound. What was this one thingthat Mary Selincourt wanted but could not have--yet? But she couldnot answer the question with any satisfaction to herself, and shestood silently watching while Mr. Selincourt took his place in theboat. Then she turned and went back up the path again: but herfeet dragged in spite of herself; it was as if some instinct toldher she was going to meet a heartache.
Mary welcomed her back with a smile, and, reaching out her arm,dragged a comfortable chair nearer the couch. "Come and sit here,you poor, tired Katherine. What a shame that you should have hadto toil all day, until your very feet ache with tiredness, while Ihave lain here and sighed because the hours crept along so slowly!"
"But that is only because you could not use your foot; you don'tfind time drag when you are able to get about," Katherine remarked,setting her head back against the cushions with a sigh of content,for the chair was of a restful pattern, and she was tired enough tofeel the cushions a welcome luxury.
"No, indeed, I can always make sure of interest and amusement whenI have two feet available for service, but I was not cut out forthe peaceful avocation of the couch invalid, and I just loatheinaction. I would rather have had your day," Mary said with a sigh.
"Are you sure? To begin with, you don't know what sort of a day Ihave had, and to continue, you have never had to work for yourliving, and don't know how it feels," Katherine rejoined, thinkingof the stuffy heat of the store, the flies, the pickled pork, andthe molasses, which had all tried her patience so sorely in thelatter part of the day.
Mary's face took on an injured expression. "Do you think it isquite kind of you to taunt me with never having tasted the sweetsof independence?" she asked.
"But you are independent of the necessity to toil," said Katherine.
"That is not true independence. Riches might take to themselveswings, banks might break, investments fail, then where should I be?I am only independent because fate has given me the use of money Ihave never earned. But you are different; you can carve your owndestiny, and are master of yourself."
"Am I? Don't indulge in any such mistaken ideas, I beg of you,"broke in Katherine, with a little grimace as in fancy she smelledagain the soap and the brimstone which had offended her so much inthe store. "I set out to be a school teacher, and came home fromMontreal with my head packed full of theories concerning howteaching ought to be done, and how I meant to do it. The firstdisappointment came when I found there were no children of schoolage obtainable, except Miles and Phil; for it is very hard totheorize upon one's own kith and kin, at least I found it so.Night school, also, is not an easy practice-ground for new methods,which was disappointment number two; and then came Father'sillness, which has settled once and for all the question of myteaching, and has caged me up to the business of the store, whetherI would or no. So how can I carve my own destiny, pray?"
Mary clapped her hands. "Why, can't you see that is what you aredoing all the time? In spite of adverse circumstances you havedone your very utmost, and consequently your very best. You havebeen brave, patient, cheerful, and always you have spent yourselffor others until----"
"Oh, spare me any more, and let us talk about something else!"cried Katherine impatiently; her cheeks were getting hot, and hermemory was pointing to many a time when she had been neither brave,nor patient, nor cheerful.
"Yes, of course we will talk of something else, and now you shallhave the reverse of the picture, for I want to talk about myself,"Mary said, with a quick flush which made the heart of the otherturn chill and cold, with dread of what might be coming next.
"Self is a sorry subject for over-much meditation, don't you think?And introspection is very bad for invalids," Katherine saidnervously.
"I'm not an invalid, not in that sense at least; I am onlyincapacitated through having twisted my ankle. But I simply mustconfide in somebody, or I don't know what will happen to me. Ican't open my heart to my daddy; he has had cares enough concerningme already; while if I tried to tell Mrs. Burton she would be soshocked that she would refuse to come and look after me any more;then whatever would become of me until I can get about and lookafter myself again?"
Katherine laughed, although her heart was heavy as lead. It wasplain she would have to be taken into confidence whether she wouldor no. It was equally plain that she would have to face theconsequences afterwards, for she was not the sort of girl who wouldbe untrue to herself.
"So you have no scruples about shocking me? Or is it that youthink I am not easily shocked?"
"A little of both, I think," Mary replied with a sigh of relief."The fact is, you are so strong and brave that you inspireconfidence."
"Is that meant for a compliment, and do I have to feel grateful?"asked Katherine.
"That is as you please. But tell someone I must, or I think themiserable business will wear me out, for I cannot sleep.Katherine, I was nearly suicide and murderer too on that awfulmorning in the tide-hole."
"What nonsense! What will you be saying next?" cried Katherinewith forced cheerfulness; but the colour faded from her cheeks.
"I am not talking nonsense, but unvarnished truth. I might havebeen saved easily enough, and Mr. Ferrars need have suffered noinconvenience save a wetting, but for my own fault; for he wasthere long before the water reached the place where I had fallen."
"But why----?" began Katherine, then stopped short, rememberingthat she did not want to ask questions, nor to seek information.
"But why wasn't I saved before, were you going to say?" said Mary."Because I would not let myself be. The fact is, down at thebottom I am a coward, just that and nothing more. My life has beenso sheltered and easy, too, that there has been nothing to stirinto activity any latent bravery that I might have had. Mr.Ferrars could not reach me, or it is probable he would have pulledme from the ledge where I was lying by sheer force. As it was, hewaited in the water for a long time, until the tide rose highenough for him to reach me. It was almost high enough; I realizedthat in another moment I should be dragged into the water, whetherI would or no, and I just felt that I could not bear it: so Isprang up with a wild impulse to rush somewhere, anywhere--but Ihad forgotten my twisted ankle, the pain from which was so intensethat I reeled, lost my balance, and was into the water all in amoment."
"Anyone might have felt like that, and acted just the same underthe circumstances," said Katherine, pitifully. This confession wasso utterly different from anything she had expected to hear thather heart grew lighter in spite of herself.
Mary laughed in a dreary, mirthless fashion. "Do you know it is abitter humiliation to me to owe my life to Jervis Ferrars?" shesaid brusquely.
"Why?" demanded Katherine, the question dragged from her in spiteof herself.
A wave of hot colour surged over Mary's face; it was not often sheblushed, but now she was crimson. "I don't think I can tell youthat," she replied unsteadily. "In any case it is immaterial tothe story, except that he once asked me a boon I would not grant;and for that I have been sorry ever since, which shows thecontrary-mindedness of women, don't you think?"
Katherine nodded; speak she could not. This was worse thananything she had expected. Mrs. Burton had suggested that Mary wasin love with Jervis, but here was Mary herself plainly intimatingthat Jervis had once asked for her love, but that she had refusedhim, only to regret her refusal ever since.
"He is such a good fello
w," went on Mary, with a yearning note inher voice which stabbed Katherine like actual pain. "When Fatherasked him about the affair in the tidehole, he never once saidanything about my fearful panic, which so nearly cost him his life;and the very fact of his reticence has made me feel the meanestcreature on the face of the earth. I can scarcely look my fatherin the face, and when he pities me for having been in such sorestraits I feel like sinking through the couch from very shame."
"Why don't you tell Mr. Selincourt then?" asked Katherine bluntly."He would understand how panic had unnerved you, and certainly hewould not judge you harshly."
"I can't tell him; I am not brave enough. I told you I was acoward, and so I am, especially in matters of that sort. It is anawful thing to me to lose anyone's good opinion. My pride, Isuppose; but really I can't help it," Mary answered with a shrug.
"Yet you have told me," said Katherine, forcing a smile. "Were younot afraid of losing my good opinion, or was it that you did notcare?"
"I was just desperate; I had to own up to someone, and so, fromlove of contrast I suppose, I turned to you, who are always brave,"Mary said.
Katherine shook her head: "You make a great mistake; I am ahorrible coward underneath. I think all girls are; it is one ofthe weaknesses of our nature which neither training nor hardshipwill overcome."
"Do you expect me to believe you when you talk like that?" askedMary. "What about that time when you got on to the ice to getJervis Ferrars out of Oily Dave's flooded house? Do you think agirl who was a coward could have done that?"
"I could not have done it if I had stayed to think about it,"replied Katherine, a soft flush stealing into her cheeks. "Butthere was no time to think about oneself, the thing had to be donequickly, so it was easy enough. If I had set out from home thatmorning, knowing what was in front of me, I could not possibly havefaced it, of that I am quite sure."
"In other words, what it really amounts to is this: we are allcowards by nature, but it is possible, by cultivating the grace ofself-sacrifice, so to forget ourselves in our care for others thatwe can rise above our natural cowardice, and become as brave orbraver than men," said Mary.
"It sounds like a sermon put that way," Katherine replied with alaugh. "Why don't you take to writing books, if you can expressyourself so much to the point?"
"Because, before writing books successfully, one must have lived,not merely existed, as I have done," Mary answered a little sadly.Then she said in a different tone; "You have done me a lot of good,and I shall sleep to-night like a top--the first real rest I havehad since that miserable morning on the rocks."
"I shall sleep too, I hope, for I have a big day's work to-morrow,"Katherine said, rising to go.
"Give me a kiss, dear, just to show me that you don't despise mefor being a coward, or rather for remaining a coward," Mary said,drawing Katherine's head down.
There was a wild desire in Katherine's heart to push off thosecaressing hands, and rush away in all haste: but she did not yieldto it, realizing that this also was a time for self-forgetting; so,stooping, she kissed Mary on both cheeks.