CHAPTER XIX
A DISCOVERY
"I almost wish," said Amy to her mother, as their train was speedingaway from Wolfville, "that we were going direct to Halifax."
"That _is_ a concession," responded Mrs. Redmond, with a smile, "for ifyou had been less anxious to see Windsor we should have passed onwithout stopping there. Perhaps even yet it is not too late to changeour plans."
"Oh, no; I am just as anxious as ever to visit King's College, andMartine and Priscilla, if not enthusiastic, still feel pleased at theprospect of seeing one more town before we reach Halifax. I've had touse some persuasion to get them to take this point of view, and it wouldbe very foolish indeed for me to be the one to change plans now."
A moment later Martine and Priscilla, who had been looking from thewindow on the opposite side of the car, returned to their seats.
"Would you care to give up Windsor now?" asked Mrs. Redmond.
"No, indeed; since I realized that Windsor is the old Piziquid of theAcadians I have been crazy to see it, for I read a story the other daywhose scene was laid there; and besides, I've heard that Windsor has oneof the queerest harbors in the world, with water in it hardly two orthree hours a day, and only red mud the rest of the time."
"That's nothing very new," interrupted Priscilla; "we've seen enough ofthat kind of thing already in Nova Scotia."
"Oh, but the difference is that the harbor of Windsor is so large thatthey say it is very amusing to see so many great vessels stranded in itI'm quite reconciled now to spending a day or two there; it's onlyPriscilla who objects, Mrs. Redmond."
"I don't really object" responded Priscilla, "but I'm afraid we won'thave all the time we need at Halifax."
"After all, we shall not be limited in our stay there. Unless thoseletters that I expect insist on my return at once I shall be quitewilling to stay away until after the first of September."
"Who is it then, besides Priscilla, who wishes to cut Windsor?"
"No one but me, Martine," returned Amy; "and this is only because I havea little feeling that I can't explain that we might better go throughdirectly to Halifax. It's the kind of feeling that leads peoplesometimes to give up a particular train from fear that some accidentwill befall it."
"Ugh!" and Martine held up her hands in protest. "I never knew before,Miss Amy Redmond, that you could be superstitious, for that's what'having feelings' amounts to."
"Well, at least I'm strong-minded enough to disregard thesepremonitions. In my heart of hearts I believe that we shall not onlyescape from Windsor alive, but enjoy our stay there thoroughly."
Not so very long after leaving Wolfville the travellers were withinsight of Windsor. They had passed through beautiful farming regions withoccasional glimpses of river and marsh; and there across a stretch ofyellowish water they caught sight of the town which the Indians had socorrectly named Piziquid, "the meeting of the waters." This firstglimpse showed a town built up on the sides of leafy hills andstretching down to the water, bordered with many wharves, at which laythree-masted schooners and craft of every size.
Their rooms had been engaged at one of the smaller hotels. It wasdelightfully situated on a side street, and within seemed pleasant andhomelike. Already their bags had been taken to the rooms assigned them,and Martine and Priscilla lingered a moment to speak to the landlady'slittle daughter, a child of five or six, who was playing in the hall.
"How red her cheeks are! I must kiss her;" and Martine bent down to suitthe action to the word. But the little girl was coquettish, and,slipping away, stood at some distance, staring at the strange youngladies. Priscilla looked sharply at the child.
"I wouldn't kiss her," she remonstrated. "Her cheeks are flushed; theyare almost feverish. I believe she's not well."
"Nonsense," rejoined Martine, with a laugh. "Every one down here has redcheeks;" and she took a few steps forward in pursuit of the child.
Priscilla laid her hand on her arm "No, no, she looks just as my littlesister did after she had scarlet fever; promise me you won't kiss her."
"I don't see why you should care," said Martine; "but you seem so inearnest that for once I'll do what you wish."
At this moment Mrs. Redmond approached the girls, in company with thelandlady, who had been showing her her room. She, too, looked keenly atthe little child.
"Is this your little girl?" she asked her companion.
"Yes, my only child."
"Is she,--is she quite well?"
The woman hesitated for a moment.
"She has been sick, but she's almost well," she replied.
"What was the matter with her?" asked Mrs. Redmond, pleasantly.
"She has had scarlet fever, but--"
"Girls," said Mrs. Redmond, "have your bags brought from your rooms."
Then she turned to the landlady.
"I can understand now why you can offer us a choice of so many rooms;the fever, I suppose, drove your guests away. I'm sorry, but we, too,must look farther."
In a few moments the four had called a carriage and were on their way toseek a new abode. Martine saw the ridiculous side of the whole affairand made the others laugh at her account of the way Priscilla had savedher from the fatal kiss.
"It is no laughing matter," protested Mrs. Redmond; "the child wasevidently in that condition when the disease is particularly contagious,even though she herself is not especially ill. I shall have to watch youall very carefully, and shall be thankful enough if you do not sufferfrom this exposure."
"There, Amy," cried Priscilla, "the worst is over; your premonitions arejustified, and another time we won't laugh at your superstition. Thoughyou hadn't scarlet fever in mind, this was the danger which we were topass through."
"I hope that the worst really is over, but it is rather curious thatthis particular incident should have happened here after what I said."
Under the guidance of their driver the party soon found a boarding-placein a large wooden house, attractively situated on a hill.
On the morning after their arrival Mrs. Redmond advised the girls tomake the most of their time.
"I'm told that we can visit the college and return in time to take theafternoon train for Halifax, but perhaps it will be as well to do thingsa little more at our leisure and go on to-morrow."
"Oh, far better," said Martine; "it would be so tiresome to go onto-day; besides--" and here she stopped as if she had almost disclosedsomething that she should not speak about.
Soon after breakfast Martine and Amy strolled off to the grass-grownramparts of Fort Edward, the defence that had been built by the Englishagainst the French when Acadia came into their possession. An oldblockhouse was the most interesting thing to be seen from the Fort;interesting at least from the historical point of view.
"What makes Windsor seem so very new?" asked Martine. "Every one speaksof it as such an old town, and it seems to be full of new brickbuildings that look as if they'd been finished hardly a week."
"It's the fire," replied Amy. "The greater part of Windsor was destroyedby fire a year or two ago. It used to be much prettier, they say, withits old wooden buildings and tree-lined streets. The trees and theold-fashioned dwellings have all been swept away,--at least in this partof the city. When we go to King's College this afternoon we shall seewhat is left of the older section."
"Martine," said Mrs. Redmond, when the two returned, "I'm sorry to haveto reprove you."
"If any one is to reprove me you are the one, Mrs. Redmond, whom Ishould prefer to administer the reproof; but what is the trouble now? AmI in danger of catching anything new?"
"No, my child, but see!"
Mrs. Redmond held up before Martine a small chamois bag.
"Oh, dear, did I really leave it lying about?"
"Yes, Martine, and had any one else found it you might have been put toconsiderable trouble to recover your rings."
Taking the little bag from Mrs. Redmond's hands, Martine emptied itscontents on a table. There they were,--not only the four
beautifulrings, but the diamond star that her father had given her the precedingChristmas. Ever since Priscilla had expressed her contempt for those whowore expensive jewelry while travelling, Martine had carried her ringsin the little bag in which she kept the star and one or two othervaluable pins.
"It seems to me," said Mrs. Redmond, "that it would have been wiser toleave these valuable things in Boston."
"But I always have them with me, and nothing has ever happened."
Mrs. Redmond hesitated as to what she should say. Although she wasMartine's temporary guardian, she believed that it was not her place toinstruct the young girl on points that would naturally come within theobservation of her parents. If they had established no rules regardingthe times when she should or should not wear jewelry, it was hardly theduty of another to interfere. Yet she saw that a word or two now mightprevent further complications while she and Martine were travellingtogether.
"It is true," she said, "that people must judge for themselves when theyshall and when they shall not wear jewels. But your rings, I can see,are all valuable, especially the emerald, and it is so easy to mislaysuch things when dressing, or when leaving a boarding-house, that if Iwere you I would put them safely away."
Though she did not express it, her real thought was that in travellingthere is seldom an occasion when a young girl needs to wear jewelry.
"Thank you, Mrs. Redmond," said Martine, pleasantly. "I am truly sorrythat I brought these things with me, although at home I always wear myrings without thinking about them. The diamond star I thought might beworn if we were invited to a party or a reception while away, but I seenow that it would not be the thing for me to wear it at all this summer.In fact, when papa gave it to me he said that he did not expect me towear it often until I was eighteen, but I thought I would like to haveit with me, and it seemed safe enough in this bag."
"Yes, when you wear the bag around your neck; but if you leave itcarelessly lying about, you'll have only yourself to blame if you loseit."
"Thank you, Mrs. Redmond," responded Martine; "after this I will seethat it is put away."
Martine had received Mrs. Redmond's words so well that the latter wasmore than ever impressed with the young girl's amiability, and shewondered that between her and Priscilla there could still exist anyantagonism.
There was no evidence, however, of anything but good feeling when thefour set out for their drive to King's College. Amy had told them thatthey were to drive also near the grounds of the old home of that JudgeHaliburton whose other home they had seen at Annapolis, explaining:
"Some persons call him 'the father of Canadian literature,' because his'Sam Slick' and his history were almost the first books written inCanada to attract the attention of people outside."
King's College, in a certain way, offered rather less than the girls hadexpected, though its chief college building was an imposing structure,with great columns in front. The grounds were extensive, and the gentlyrolling lawns suggested an English landscape.
"King's is an old college for this part of the world," said Mrs.Redmond, "and though I cannot remember all I have heard about it,various old forms and ceremonies are kept up here, I believe, andcommencement is always very interesting."
"It isn't as old as Harvard, is it?" asked Martine.
"What a question!" interposed Priscilla. "No college is as old asHarvard--at least, in this country. Just see how small this is, too!"
"Yet you ought to be especially interested in King's College,Priscilla," said Mrs. Redmond, gently, "for it was founded by exiledLoyalists almost immediately after the Revolution. Indeed, plans for thecollege were made in New York even before the close of the war, when itwas seen that large numbers of educated men and women would probablyhave to bring up their children in a new country, where it would taketime to establish even ordinary day schools."
"After the Revolution! That seems young compared with Harvard. But come,let us see what there is in this ancient-looking library. The driversays it's the only building open to visitors now," said Amy, who hadbeen leading the way.
There were some entertaining books and portraits in the old library, andafter lingering over them a little while, the girls prepared to returnto the town. They took a last look at the old college before thecarriage drove away.
"Its surroundings are beautiful," exclaimed Amy, "but it doesn't comparewith Wellesley;" and before her eyes rose a picture of the CollegeBeautiful, with its lake, its hills and groves, and its many finebuildings.
"I'm very glad, however," she added, "that we came here, for I have gota certain impression from King's College that is quite worth having."
"So say we all of us," added Martine. And thus in an amiable frame ofmind the party returned to their boarding-house, pleased with theirsightseeing. Although none of the girls would admit that they weretired, Mrs. Redmond suggested that all go to bed early.
"I'll agree," responded Martine, "if you'll come up first to my room."
Martine's room was large and pleasant, and even for so short a stay shehad thought it worth while to give it a few homelike touches.Photographs of her parents and of one or two of her friends inornamental frames were on the mantelpiece, and over the mantelpieceitself she had draped a soft foreign scarf. Her silver toilet articlesoccupied the top of the bureau; for in spite of Priscilla's disapproval,or perhaps because of it, she now carried these things in her suit case.Slight though these little touches were, Martine had contrived torelieve the room of its purely boarding-house aspect.
The house itself was plain, and both inside and out had a certain aspectof flimsiness. This had been accounted for by some one who had told Mrs.Redmond that it had been put up very hastily, immediately after therecent fire. It had been built for a boarding-house and pretended to benothing else. It was airy and clean, but neither its landlady nor theother boarders attracted the travellers sufficiently to incline them tostay downstairs in the general sitting-room; so the three girls and Mrs.Redmond sat and chatted in Martine's room, enjoying the box ofchocolates that she had opened for their especial pleasure.
"They ought to be good," she said, when Mrs. Redmond praised them. "Theycame from Halifax;" and she glanced mischievously at Priscilla.
"From Halifax?" repeated Amy. "I suppose that's where most shopkeepersin Windsor get their goods."
"Halifax by way of Windsor."
"No, no," retorted Martine, "not by way of Windsor at all; they came tome by mail. You know I went down to the post-office the last momentbefore we left Wolfville."
The others made no comment, but Priscilla and Amy exchanged glances, andPriscilla's seemed to say:
"I told you so."
Before, however, anything could be said, Martine rushed to her bureau.
"I received a letter, too, at the same time," she cried, "and except forthese chocolates I never should have thought of it again."
Lifting the cover of the candy box, she took from it a large squareenvelope, which for safe keeping, perhaps, she had placed under the lacepaper that lined it.
"What next?" thought Amy. "If the letter is from either Fritz or Taps, Iwonder if she'll venture to read it."
Then Martine, with the utmost unconcern, opened the envelope, saying asshe did so:
"It's from Mrs. Blair; you know she's a cousin of mamma's, and she oftengives me good advice; I suppose this letter is full of it. That's onereason I left it to read on the train. I knew it would keep till then;and, after all, I entirely forgot it."
"Mrs. Blair would feel complimented," interposed Amy.
"Oh, she knows me; I never hide my feelings."
"Do you ever try?"
"Yes, my dear Mrs. Redmond; I've never dared let you know just how muchI care for you."
Thus effectually silenced, Mrs. Redmond waited for Martine to read herletter.
"You ought to like Mrs. Blair," said Amy, for Martine still held theopened envelope in her hand without attempting to read its contents.
"Why?"
"Because she
has style, Martine, and you generally put that beforeeverything else; but read your letter, I would like to hear where theyare, for I am always interested in Edith's doings."
"Yes, yes," yet Martine did not take the letter from the envelope; "butpeople need something besides style. I get so out of patience with Mrs.Blair when she and mamma are together. She always has the air ofdisapproving of mamma for having married a western man. She makes methink of the New Yorker who said to a Chicago woman, 'How can you bearto live so far away?' 'Away? From what?' asked the other. And the NewYorker couldn't say a word."
"But that isn't like Mrs. Blair, for she always has a word ready foreverything. Do read your letter, Martine," continued Amy.
So Martine glanced hastily over the pages, making comments as she read.
"Oh, it's a kind of duty letter. She wants me to think it a greatprivilege that you have allowed me to travel with you this summer. Sheseems to have an especially high regard for you, Priscilla. I won'tflatter you by reading what she says. Oh, yes, and she wants to give mesome bad news. She has seen mamma at Carlsbad and thinks her lookingvery miserable. Well, that's about all, except that she wishes Edithcared more for Europe."
"Yes," interposed Amy, "Edith was very anxious to go West this summerwith Philip and Pamela; they're having a fine trip over the CanadianRockies."
Martine evidently was not listening to Amy. Her face wore an expressionof great bewilderment, and then, with an exclamation of surprise shethrust the letter into Amy's hand:
"Read it," she cried; "isn't it extraordinary?" and she pointed to thesignature. "'Audrey Balfour Blair!' Did you know that was her name?"
"Why, I'm not sure," responded Amy. "I never had a letter from Mrs.Blair."
"Nor I," responded Martine, "though Edith often writes to me."
"That's why Balfour and Audrey seem so familiar to me," added Priscilla,whose family were on rather intimate terms with Mrs. Blair.
"I never heard even mamma speak of Mrs. Blair by her first name,"continued Martine. "Of course I must have known that it was Audrey, butI had never noticed the Balfour before."
"Well, if Balfour is a family name of Mrs. Blair's it must be of yourmother's also; or at least it probably is."
"In that case," said Martine, "then Balfour and I may be cousins."
"I wish that Eunice and I were cousins." Priscilla's wistful tone was incontrast to the brighter one in which Martine had spoken.
"What's in a name?" continued the latter. "I dare say it's only themerest happening that these names are alike."
"I was going to suggest," commented Mrs. Redmond, "that it might bewiser not to build your hopes too high, although I'll admit that theremay be some connection between the two families."
"What pleases me the most," said Martine, "is to think of Mrs. Blair'sdisgust when she hears that her family names belong also to people inNova Scotia."
"And one of them a grocer's clerk," added Amy, whereupon Martine coloreddeeply.
"Balfour's just as good as Philip Blair, and he won't have to leavecollege without taking his degree." Then, as if ashamed of herpetulance, she added: "To find out how things really are I suppose thatafter this I'll have to take an interest in genealogy. Mrs. Blairbelongs to the Colonial Dames and offered to have mamma's name putthrough, and I think she would have consented to this if I hadn'tlaughed so at the idea. I dare say the Dames are different from theDaughters. I hope so at any rate, for the Daughters are always wavingtheir ancestors in one another's faces, especially at their meetings,which I am told are like real battles."
"Oh, no," protested Mrs. Redmond, "not always. I've been at some thatwere very pleasant."
"Well, before long," concluded Martine, "you'll find me climbing familytrees in a way that will make you dizzy; in fact, I feel a little giddy,as the English say, at the very prospect of having--Eunice for a cousin.Indeed, I believe I'll not sleep a wink to-night in my effort to settlethe question."