CHAPTER XXV
The Rift in the Clouds
"My dear child, I can never forgive myself for having made you crylike this!" exclaimed Mr. Selincourt; for Katherine was sobbing asvigorously as she did most other things, and he was genuinelydistressed.
"Oh, I am glad to cry! I mean, I am so happy, because it came outall right. And oh, please do forgive me for having been sofoolish! I wonder whatever you must think of me!" and, heaving adeep sigh of relief, Katherine sat up and wiped her eyes.
"I think you are a very charming and tender-hearted young lady.But I shall have to be very careful how I tell you sad things, ifthis is the way you are going to receive my confidences," he said,with a rather rueful air; for she was by no means the sort of girlhe would have expected to indulge in the weakness of tears.
Katherine laughed. She was desperately ashamed of having been sofoolish; but those words of gratitude, spoken by Mr. Selincourtabout the person who had wronged him were like balm to her soreheart. It was as if her father had confessed his fault, and hadbeen forgiven on earth as well as in heaven.
"You must pay the penalty of your eloquence by seeing your audiencedrowned in tears," she said lightly. Then, rolling up theremainder of the furs, she left the stockroom and returned to thestore, whither Mr. Selincourt followed her; and as there were nocustomers he sat on a box and talked on, as if it were a realpleasure to have found a sympathetic listener.
"Those two years of struggle, of disappointment and bitter poverty,have had their uses," he said, in a meditative fashion, as he satlooking out through the door, which Katherine had unlocked again.His gaze was on the river, which sparkled and gleamed in thesunshine, but his thoughts were far away.
Katherine answered only by a splitting, rending noise, as she torea piece of calico. But that did not matter, because he was toomuch absorbed in his own thoughts to need other speech just then.
"Perhaps if I had not been poor myself I should not have hadsympathy with other men who were in the slough and couldn't getout," he said, speaking as much to himself as to Katherine.
"It is fine to be able to help other people," she replied, cuttingthe next piece of calico to avoid making so much noise.
"Yes, but I think no one realizes the full blessing of it who hasnot known in his own person what it is to be in trouble and to behelped himself," he said, his tone still dreamy, and his gaze onthe hurrying water.
"Have you helped a great many?" she asked softly.
"A few," he answered. "Some have been disappointments, of course,and once or twice I have been robbed for my pains; but I have hadmy compensations, especially in Archie Raymond and Jervis Ferrars."
"Who is Archie Raymond?" demanded Katherine, who was measuringcalico as rapidly, and with as much dexterity, as if she had servedan apprenticeship behind a drapery counter, instead of having beentrained for teaching.
Mr. Selincourt brought his gaze from the river, jerking his headround to get a good view of Katherine; then he asked, in asurprised tone: "Hasn't Mary told you about him? I thought girlsalways talked to each other about such things."
"What things?" asked Katherine.
"Why, sweethearts, and all that sort of stuff," he answered vaguely.
Katherine flushed, caught her breath in a little gasp, and,clenching the hand which held the calico, said rather unsteadily:"Mary and I have certainly not discussed sweethearts and that sortof stuff, as you call it."
Mr. Selincourt laughed in great amusement, then said more gravely:"Mary has been very much spoiled, and in all her life she has neverbeen denied anything save one, as I told you before, and I amhoping very much that it will all come right for her yet, when shehas learned her lesson of patient waiting."
Katherine dropped her calico, and, nerving herself for a greateffort of endurance, said: "Won't you tell me what you mean? Inever could understand hints and vague suggestions about things."
"It is like this," began Mr. Selincourt, who was only too pleasedto get a listener as sympathetic as Katherine: "a year ago lastwinter Mary fell in love with Archie Raymond, or else he fell inlove with her; anyhow they became engaged, although I demurred alittle, on account of his inability to support a wife. But I gaveway in time, for he was a thoroughly good fellow, and one of thesort who was bound to rise when he got a chance. Mary wasexacting, however--I told you she had been spoiled--and Archiewasn't the sort to be led about on a string like a lapdog; sonaturally they quarrelled."
"Poor Mary!" exclaimed Katherine softly.
"And poor Archie too, I guess," returned Mr. Selincourt. "It washis misfortune that he cared so much for her. I believe she wouldhave treated him better if he had not been so much her slave; buteven slaves can't endure too much, so he revolted after a time.Jervis Ferrars, who was Archie's friend, came to Mary and beggedthat she would see Archie, if only for ten minutes, because therewas something to be said between them which could not be put into aletter. But my girl is made of obstinate stuff that crops up inawkward places sometimes; so she sent word by Jervis that if Archieliked to send her a letter of apology she would read it, but shewould not see him until that had been done."
"Did he do it?" asked Katherine eagerly. A white light ofillumination had suddenly flashed into her mind concerning thenature of the boon which Jervis Ferrars had begged at the hands ofMary, and been denied.
Mr. Selincourt laughed. "I told you that he was a man and not alapdog. That sort don't go crawling round asking pardon for wrongsthey have not committed. The next we heard of Archie Raymond wasthat he had joined Max Bohrnsen's Arctic Expedition in place of aman who had fallen out through sickness, and that he had sailed forthe Polar Seas on a two years' absence."
"Poor Mary!" sighed Katherine again, then immediately felt ashamedof her own secret light-heartedness.
"Yes, it was poor Mary then," replied Mr. Selincourt, a shadecoming over his pleasant face. "The worst of it was that she hadonly herself to thank for all the trouble that had come upon her,and as it was not a thing to be talked about, it had to be bornewithout any outside sympathy to make it easier."
"Has she never heard from him since?" asked Katherine softly, andnow there were tears in her eyes, and a whole world of pity in herheart for this girl who had deliberately flung away the love shewanted, from pure obstinacy and self-will.
"Only once. Directly she knew that he had gone beyond recall shebegan to repent in good earnest, and sent him a cable to the onlyport where his vessel would be likely to stop, something to thiseffect; 'It is I who apologize; will you forgive?' And after weeksand weeks of waiting this answer came back: 'Yes, in two years'time'."
Katherine drew a long breath, and her eyes were still misty. "Howlong the waiting time must seem to Mary, and the months can bringher no tidings of what she most wants to know."
"That is true; but I am quite sure it is good for her," Mr.Selincourt answered. "Never before has there been anything in herlife which called for waiting or patience, and it is the lessonswhich are hardest to learn which do us most good."
"Won't Mary be displeased because you have told me all this?" askedKatherine.
"It will make no difference to her if she does not know, and youare not the sort of girl to go about bragging of the things youhave been told. But it seemed to me that it might help you to anunderstanding of Mary's character if you knew," Mr. Selincourtreplied rather awkwardly.
Katherine flushed a sudden, uncomfortable red, and began measuringcalico in a great hurry; only, as she had turned her work round,and was doing it all over again, it was rather wasted labour. Athought had flashed into her mind that perhaps this good, kindlyman had heard some of the talk which was coupling the names of MissSelincourt and Jervis Ferrars, and so had told her this about Maryof set purpose.
"Thank you for telling me," she said; then went on hurriedly: "I amso glad to know. It explains why sometimes Mary does not lookhappy. I had thought it just boredom and discontent."
"Most people would think so, but that is just be
cause they don'tunderstand her. She is made of fine, good stuff at the bottom,only sometimes it is rather hard to get at. This week she will beperfectly happy and charming to live with, because she will have tobe at the fish sheds all the time, checking the incoming boats; andnext week she will be down in the dumps, because she has nothing inthe world to do."
"That at least is a complaint that I am in no danger of sufferingfrom," laughed Katherine, as, realizing that she had been workingtwice on the calico, she folded it up and started on another length.
"And I have been wasting your time in a fearful fashion; butperhaps you will forgive me, because I like talking to you somuch," he said, rising from his seat and laughing, as he looked athis watch, to think how the morning had flown. "Now I will go andtalk to your good father for a little while, and then I willwhistle for Pierre to come over and row me down to Seal Cove forlunch with Mary, to round off the morning."
Katherine rushed about the store with great vigour and muchbustling energy after the visitor had betaken himself outside. Ofcourse he had wasted her morning to a serious extent, but whatmattered arrears of work compared with the peace of mind the talkhad brought her? Never once since the day on which her father hadconfided to her the secret trouble which was weighing him down hadKatherine been so light-hearted. Now, at least so far as she wasconcerned, that trouble, even the remembrance of it, might be putaway for ever. Mr. Selincourt had said that he owed a debt ofgratitude to the person who had wronged him; so plainly there wasno question of making up to him for any loss that he had suffered.True, the wrong was there, and nothing could undo the sin which hadbeen committed; but it was the sinner who had suffered, not thesinned against. Katherine looked out through the open door of thestore and saw her father walking up and down beside the man he hadwronged, and a sharp pang of pity for the invalid smote her heart.His punishment was very heavy; but even she, his daughter, wholoved him so well, could not deny that it was just that he who didthe wrong should pay the penalty thereof.
"Poor darling Father!" she murmured. "But no one need ever know.Nothing could be gained by dragging the old, bad past to light, andso it shall be buried for ever." Then, covering her face with herhands, she prayed that the forgiveness of Heaven might rest uponthe poor sinner, whose punishment had come to him on earth.
The hours of that day flew as if every one of them were holidaytime, instead of being crammed to the full with even harder workthan usual. The other matter of which Mr. Selincourt had spoken,Mary's engagement to the unknown Archie Raymond, Katherine burieddeep in her heart, a thing to be gloated over in secret, a causefor happiness which she did not care to be frank over, even toherself. So the long, busy day went on to evening, and, in spiteof all the work there had been to get through, Katherine foundherself with half an hour of leisure before bedtime.
She was standing outside, fighting the mosquitoes, and wondering ifshe had sufficient energy left to go up the portage path to thehigh ground, to see the moon rise, when she saw the Selincourt boatshoot out from under the alder trees on the other side of theriver, and make across for the store.
"It is Mary!" she whispered to herself; and Mary it was, with aweary, white face, and a fleecy white shawl wrapped about her headand shoulders.
"Will you come up the hill, Katherine, and see the moon rise?" sheasked, in a tired tone.
"I was just thinking of doing so, only it seemed hardly worth theeffort to go up alone; now you have come it will be pleasant,"Katherine answered, and, although she knew it not, there was morefriendliness in her tone than Mary had ever found there before.
"Do you know, I tried going up the hill on my side, a better hillthan yours, and with a better view, but it was so lonely! Isn't itfunny what a difference companionship makes?"
"Sometimes, and in some moods. But there are other times and othermoods in which companionship is a nuisance, and solitude the onlything to be desired. At least, that is how I have felt," saidKatherine. Then she added hastily: "To-night I felt as if I wantedsomeone to see the moon rise with me, so I am very glad you came."
They walked up the hill in silence, despite the desire for companywhich both had felt, and stood together at the top, watching thesilver glory of the moon coming up over the black pine trees, withno speech at all until Mary asked with a ring of envy in her tone:"What has come to you to-night?"
Katherine flushed, answering in quick apology: "Please forgive me.It is fearfully rude of me to be so silent and abstracted."
"It wasn't that. Speech is only one way of expressing one'sthoughts, and very often not the most eloquent way either. But youlook so light-hearted to-night; it shines from your eyes,and--and--well, it is awkward to express what I mean, but it isvisible in every gesture. To put it briefly, you look like aperson to be envied."
"I believe I am to be envied," Katherine answered, flushing againunder the amused scrutiny in Mary's glance. "Everyone who hashealth and vigour, with an infinite capacity for enjoyment, shouldsurely be envied by those not equally blessed, don't you think?"
Mary sighed. "I have health and vigour too. I am not so sureabout the infinite capacity for enjoyment; but I like work, andplenty of it. Do you know, I thoroughly enjoyed myself at SealCove to-day. I went out on the landing wharf to help the men tocount the take, then I entered it, wrote out the tokens, and workedas hard as if I were doing it for a weekly wage."
"Well?" There was gentle questioning in Katherine's tone, but nocuriosity; happily there was need for none. She could understandsomething of Mary's moods without explanation now, and could givethe sympathy, which was also better expressed without words.
"It isn't well; that is the trouble of it," Mary said wistfully."The work is all very well while it lasts, but when it is done, oneis tired, and there is nothing left but weariness and moodsagain--just these and nothing more."
"Oh yes, there is! You are leaving out the most important thing;there is rest. And when one is rested, really rested, the world isall new again for a time," Katherine answered brightly. She wasspeaking now from her own experience, for that was how she had feltwhen her trouble was at its blackest.
"I had forgotten rest; but then it won't always come, sometimessleep is impossible." Mary sighed again, for to-night her moodverged on the morbid.
"Sometimes, but not often, when people are as healthy as we are,"Katherine replied with a laugh; then, slipping her hand throughMary's arm, with a persuasive touch she drew her homeward. "Come!People who have to get up and work in the morning must go to bed atnight, or suffer next day. I am fearfully sleepy, and to-morrow Ihave to go over to Fort Garry with all those furs which your fatherdid not buy."
"I too must be at work in good time, for I want to be at Seal Covebefore ten o'clock, and that does not leave much space for one'shousekeeping duties," Mary said, in a brighter tone, as the twocame down the hill together.
"Let Mr. Selincourt keep house while you are so busy, or, betterstill, get Nellie to do what you want; she will be delighted,"urged Katherine, who was disposed to the belief that Mary's morbidmood was largely the result of fatigue.
"Oh, Mrs. Burton is more than kind in making bread for me, and allthat sort of thing; while, as everyone knows, my father spoils meall the time! But I like work, and just now I feel as if I couldhardly have too much of it; so I don't mind how long Mr. Ferrarsstays away at the fishing at the Twins," Mary said. Then, biddingKatherine good night at the foot of the hill, she got into her boatand was rowed across the river.
Katherine shook her head a little doubtfully as she went indoors;for in her heart she did not echo the other's last words.