CHAPTER XV.
A NEW ACQUAINTANCE
The moment we reached the quay at Quebec, some two days later, adozen young men, with little notebooks in their hands, jumped onboard all at once.
"Miss Callingham!" they cried with one accord, making a dash for thequarter-deck. "Which is she? Oh, this!--If you please, MissCallingham, I should like to have ten minutes of your time tointerview you!"
I clapped my hands to my ears, and stood back, all horrified. What Ishould have done, I don't know, but for a very kind man in a bigrough overcoat, who had jumped on board at the same time, and madeover to me like the reporters. He stepped up to me at once, pushedaside the young men, and said in a most friendly tone:
"Miss Callingham, I think? You'd better come with me, then. Thesepeople are all sharks. Everybody in Quebec's agog to see theTwo-souled Lady. Answer no questions at all. Take not the leastnotice of them. Just follow me to the Custom House. Let them rave,but don't speak to them."
"Who are you?" I asked blindly, clinging to his arm in my terror.
"I'm a policeman in plain clothes," my new friend answered; "andI've been specially detailed by order for this duty. I'm here tolook after you. You've friends in Canada, though you may have quiteforgotten them. They've sent me to help you. Those are two of mychums there, standing aside by the gangway. We'll walk you offbetween us. Don't be afraid.--Here, you sir, there; make way!--Noone shall come near you."
I was so nervous, and so ashamed that I accepted my strange escortwithout inquiry or remonstrance. He helped me, with remarkablepoliteness for a common policeman, across to the Custom House, whereI sat waiting for my luggage. Reporters and sightseers, meanwhile,pressed obtrusively around me. My protector held them back. I washalf wild with embarrassment. I'm naturally a reserved and somewhatsensitive girl, and this American publicity made me crimson withbashfulness.
As I sat there waiting, however, the two other policemen to whom mychampion had beckoned sat one on each side of me, keeping off theidle crowd, while my first friend looked after the luggage and sawit safely through the Customs for me. He must be an Inspector, Ifancied, or some other superior officer, the officials were sodeferential to him. I gave him my keys, and he looked aftereverything himself. I had nothing, for my part, to do but to sit andwait patiently for him.
As soon as he had finished, he called a porter to his side.
"Vite!" he cried, in a tone of authority, to the man. "Un fiacre!"
And the porter called one.
I started to find that I knew what he meant. Till that moment, in mySecond State, I had learned no French, and didn't know I could speakany. But I recognised the words quite well as soon as he utteredthem. My lost knowledge reasserted itself.
They bundled on my boxes. The crowd still stood around and gaped atme, open-mouthed. I got into the cab, more dead than alive.
"Allez!" my policeman cried to the French-Canadian driver, seatinghimself by my side.
"A la gare du chemin de fer Pacific! Aussi vite que possible!"
I understood every word. This was wonderful. My memory was comingback again.
The man tore along the streets to the Pacific railway station. Bythe time we reached it we had distanced the sightseers, though someof them gave chase. My policeman got out.
"The train's just going!" he said sharply. "Don't take a ticket forPalmyra, if you don't want to be followed and tracked out all theway. They'll telegraph on your destination. Book to Kingstoninstead, and then change at Sharbot Lake, and take a second ticketon from there to Palmyra."
I listened, half dazed. Palmyra was the place where Dr. Ivor lived.Yet, even in the hurry of the moment, I wondered much to myself howthe policeman knew I wanted to go to Palmyra.
There was no time to ask questions, however, or to deliberate on myplans. I took my ticket as desired, in a turmoil of feelings, andjumped on to the train. I trusted by this time I had eludeddetection. I ought to have come, I saw now, under a feigned name.This horrid publicity was more than I could endure. My policemanhelped me in with his persistent politeness, and saw my boxeschecked as far as Sharbot Lake for me. Then he handed me the checks.
"Go in the Pullman," he said quietly. "It's a long journey, youknow: four-and-twenty hours. You've only just caught it. But ifyou'd stopped in Quebec, you'd never have been able to give thesightseers the slip. You'd have been pestered all through. I thinkyou're safe now. It was this or nothing."
"Oh, thank you so much!" I cried, with heartfelt gratitude, leaningout of the window as the train was on the point of starting. Ipulled out my purse, and drew timidly forth a sovereign. "I've onlyEnglish money," I said, hesitating, for I didn't know whether he'dbe offended or not at the offer of a tip--he seemed such a perfectgentleman. "But if that's any use to you--"
He smiled a broad smile and shook his head, much amused.
"Oh, thank you," he said, half laughing, with a very curious air."I'm a policeman, as I told you. But I don't need tips. I'm theChief Constable of Quebec--there's my card; Major Tascherel,--andI'm glad to be of use, I'm sure, to any friend of Dr. Ivor's."
He lifted his hat with the inborn grace of a high-born gentleman. Icoloured and bowed. The train steamed out of the station. As itwent, I fell back, half fainting, in the comfortable armchair of thePullman car, hardly able to speak with surprise and horror. It wasall so strange, so puzzling, so bewildering! Then I owed my escapefrom the stenographic myrmidons of the Canadian Press to the politecare and attention of my father's murderer!
Major Tascherel was a friend, he said, of Dr. Ivor's!
Then Dr. Ivor knew I had come. He knew I was going to Palmyra tofind him. And yet he had written to Quebec, apparently, expectingthis crush, and asking his friend the Chief Constable to protect andbefriend me. Had he murdered my father, and was he in love with mestill? Did he think I'd come out, not to track him down, but to lookfor him? Strange, horrible questions! My heart stood still within meat this extraordinary revelation. Yet I was so frightened at themoment, alone in a strange land, that I felt almost grateful to themurderer himself for his kindness in thinking of me and providingfor my reception.
As I settled in my seat and had time to realise what these thingsmeant, it dawned upon me by degrees that all this was lessremarkable, after all, than I first thought it. For they hadtelegraphed from England that I sailed on the Sarmatian; and Dr.Ivor, like everybody else, must have read the telegram. He mightnaturally conclude I would be half-mobbed by reporters; and as itwas clear he had once been fond of me--hateful as I felt it even toadmit the fact to myself--he might really have desired to save meannoyance and trouble. It was degrading, to be sure, even to think Iowed anything of any sort to such a wretch as that murderer; yet ina certain corner of my heart I couldn't help being thankful to him.But how strange to feel I had come there on purpose to hunt himdown! How horrible that I must so repay good with evil!
Then a still more ghastly thought surged up suddenly in my mind. Whyon earth did he think I was going to Palmyra? Was it possible hefancied I loved him still--that I wanted to marry him? Could heimagine I'd come out just to fling myself at his feet and ask him totake me? Could he suppose I'd forgotten all the rest of my pastlife, and his vile act as well, and yet remembered alone whatlittle love, if any, I ever had borne him? It was incredible thatany man, however wicked, however conceited, should think such follyas that--that a girl would marry her father's murderer; and yet whatmight not one expect from a man who, after having shot my father,had still the inconceivable and unbelievable audacity to takedeliberate steps for securing my own comfort and happiness? Fromsuch a wretch as that, one might look for almost anything!
For ten minutes or more, as we whirled along the line in the Pullmancar, I was too dazed and confused to notice anything around me. Mybrain swam vaguely, filled full with wild whirling thoughts; thestrange drama of my life, always teeming with mysteries, seemed toculminate in this reception in an unknown land by people whoappeared almost to know more about my business than I myself did. Ig
azed out of the window blankly. In some vague dim way I saw we werepassing between rocky hills, pine-clad and beautiful, with deepglimpses now and then into the riven gorge of a noble river. But Ididn't even realise to myself that these were Canadian hills--thosewere the heights of Abraham--that was the silver St. Lawrence. Itall passed by like a living dream. I sat still in my chair, as onestunned and faint; I gazed out, more dead than alive, on theunfamiliar scene that unrolled itself in exquisite panorama beforeme. Quebec and the Laurentian hills were to me half unreal: theinner senses alone were awake and conscious.
Presently a gentle voice at my side broke, not at all unpleasantly,the current of my reflections. It was a lady's voice, very sweet andmusical.
"I'm afraid," it said kindly, with an air of tender solicitude, "youonly just caught the train, and were hurried and worried andflurried at the last at the station. You look so white and tired.How your breath comes and goes! And I think you're new to ourCanadian ways. I saw you didn't understand about the checks for thebaggage. Let me take away this bag and put it up in the rack foryou. Here's a footstool for your feet; that'll make you morecomfortable."
At the first sound of her sweet voice, I turned to look at thespeaker. She was a girl, perhaps a year or two younger than myself,very slender and graceful, and with eyes like a mother's. She wasn'texactly pretty, but her face was so full of intelligence andexpression that it was worth a great deal more than any doll-likeprettiness.
Perhaps it was pleasure at being spoken to kindly at all in thisland of strangers; perhaps it was revulsion from the agony of shameand modesty I had endured at Quebec; but, at any rate, I felt drawnat first sight to my sweet-voiced fellow-traveller. Besides, shereminded me somewhat of Minnie Moore, and that resemblance alone wasenough to attract me. I looked up at her gratefully.
"Oh, thank you so much!" I cried, putting my bag in her hand. "I'veonly just come out from England; and I'd hardly time at Quebec tocatch the train; and the people crowded around so, that I wasflustered at landing; and everything somehow seems to be goingagainst me."
And with that my poor overwrought nerves gave way all at once, andwithout any more ado I just burst out crying.
The lady by my side leant over me tenderly.
"There--cry, dear," she said, as if she'd known me for years,stooping down and almost caressing me. "Jack,"--and she turned to atall gentleman at her side,--"quick! you've got my black bag; get meout the sal volatile. She's quite faint, poor thing; we must lookafter her instantly."
The person to whom she spoke, and who was apparently her husband orher brother, took down the black bag from the rack hastily, and gotout the sal volatile, as my friend directed him. He poured a littleinto a tumbler and held it quietly to my lips. I liked his manner,as I'd liked the lady's. He was so very brotherly. Besides, therewas something extremely soothing about his quick, noiseless way. Hedid it all so fast, yet without the faintest sign of agitation. Icouldn't help thinking what a good nurse he would make; he was sorapid and effective, yet so gentle and so quiet. He seemed perfectlyaccustomed to the ways of nervous women.
I dried my eyes after a while, and looked up in his face. He wasvery good-looking, and had a charming soft smile. How lucky I shouldhave tumbled upon such pleasant travelling companions! In my presentmental state, I had need of sympathy. And, indeed, they took as muchcare of me, and coddled me up as tenderly, as if they'd known me foryears. I was almost tempted to make a clean breast of my personalityto them, and tell them why it was I had been so worried and upset bymy reception at Quebec: but I shrank from confessing it. I hated myown name, almost, it seemed to bring me such very unpleasantnotoriety.
In a very few minutes, I felt quite at home with my new friends. Iexplained to them that when I landed I had no intention of going onWest by train at once, but that news which I received on the way hadcompelled me to push forward by the very first chance; and that Ihad to change my ticket at a place called Sharbot Lake, whose veryposition or distance I hadn't had time to discover. The lady smiledsweetly, and calmed my fears by telling me we wouldn't reach SharbotLake till mid-day to-morrow, and that I would have plenty of timethere to book on to my destination.
Thus encouraged, I went on to tell them I had no Canadian money,having brought out what I needed for travelling expenses and hotelsin Bank of England 20 pound notes. The lady smiled again, and saidin the friendliest way:
"Oh, my brother'll get them changed for you at Montreal as we pass,won't you, Jack? or at least as much as you need till you getto"--she checked herself--"the end of your journey."
I noticed how she pulled herself up, though at the moment I attachedno particular importance to it.
So he was her brother, not her husband, then! Well, he was a verynice fellow, either way, and nobody could be kinder or moresympathetic than he'd been to me so far.
We fell into conversation, which soon by degrees grew quiteintimate.
"How far West are you going?" the man she called Jack asked after alittle time, tentatively.
And I answered, all unsuspiciously:
"To a place called Palmyra."
"Why, we live not far from Palmyra," the sister replied, with asmile. "We're going that way now. Our station's Adolphus Town, thevery next village."
I hadn't yet learned to join the wisdom of the serpent to theinnocence of the dove, I'm afraid. Remember, though in some ways Iwas a woman full grown, in others I was little more than afour-year-old baby.
"Do you know a Dr. Ivor there?" I asked eagerly, leaning forward.
"Oh, yes, quite well," the lady answered, arranging my footstoolmore comfortably as she spoke. "He's got a farm out there now, andhardly practises at all. How queer it is! One always finds one knowspeople in common. Is Dr. Ivor a friend of yours?"
I recoiled at the stray question almost as if I'd been shot.
"Oh, no!" I cried, horrified at the bare idea of such treason. "He'sanything but a friend... I--I only wanted to know about him."
The lady looked at Jack, and Jack looked at the lady. Were theytelegraphing signs? I fancied somehow they gave one another verymeaning glances. Jack was the first to speak, breaking an awkwardsilence.
"You can't expect everyone to know your own friends, or to like themeither, Elsie," he said slowly, with his eyes fixed hard on her, asif he expected her to flare up.
My heart misgave me. A hateful idea arose in it. Could my sweettravelling companion be engaged--to my father's murderer?
"But he's a dear good fellow, for all that, Jack," Elsie saidstoutly; and strange as it sounds to say so, I admired her forsticking up for her friend Dr. Ivor, if she really liked him. "Iwon't hear him run down by anybody, not even by YOU. If this ladyknew him better, I'm sure she'd like him, as we all do."
Jack turned the conversation abruptly.
"But if you're going to Palmyra," he asked, "where do you mean tostop? Have you thought about lodgings? You mustn't imagine it's aplace like an English town, with an inn or hotel or good privateapartments. There's nowhere you can put up at in these brand-newvillages. Are you going to friends, or did you expect to findquarters as easily as in England?"
This was a difficulty which, indeed, had never even occurred to metill that moment. I stammered and hesitated.
"Well," I said slowly, "to tell you the truth, I haven't thoughtabout that. The landing at Quebec was such a dreadful surprise tome, and"--tears came into my eyes again--"I had a great shockthere--and I had to come on so quick, I didn't ask about anythingbut catching the train. I meant to stop a night or two either atQuebec or in Montreal, and to make all inquiries: but circumstances,you see, have prevented that. So I really don't know what I'd betterdo when I get to Palmyra."
"I do," my new friend answered quickly, her soft sweet voice havingquite a decisive ring in it. "You'd better not go on to Palmyra atall. There's no sort of accommodation there, except a horriddrinking-saloon. You'd better stop short at Adolphus Town and spendthe night with us; and then you can look about you next day, if youlike, and see what
chance there may be of finding decent quarters.Old Mrs. Wilkins might take her in, Jack, or the Blacks at thetannery."
I smiled, and felt touched.
"Oh, how good of you!" I cried. "But I really couldn't think of it.Thank you ever so much, though, for your kind thought, all the same.It's so good and sweet of you. But you don't even know who I am. Ihave no introduction."
"You're your own best introduction," Elsie said, with a pretty nod:I thought of her somehow from the very first moment I heard her nameas Elsie. "And as to your not knowing us, never mind about that. Weknow YOU at first sight. It's the Canadian way to entertain Angelsunawares. Out here, you know, hospitality's the rule of thecountry."
Well, I demurred for a long time; I fought off their invitation aswell as I could: I couldn't bear thus to quarter myself upon utterstrangers. But they both were so pressing, and brought up so manycogent arguments why I couldn't go alone to the one villagesaloon--a mere whisky-drinking public-house, they said, of very badcharacter,--that in the long run I was fain almost to acquiesce intheir kind plan for my temporary housing. Besides, after my horridexperience at Quebec, it was such a positive relief to me to meetanybody nice and delicate, that I couldn't find it in my heart torefuse these dear people. And then, perhaps it was best not to goquite on to Palmyra at once, for fear of unexpectedly runningagainst my father's murderer. If I met him in the street, and herecognised me and spoke to me, what on earth could I do? My head wasall in a whirl, indeed, as to what he might intend or expect: for Ifelt sure he expected me. I made one last despairing effort.
"If I stop at your house, though," I said, half ashamed of myselffor venturing to make conditions, "there's one promise you must makeme--that I sha'n't see Dr. Ivor unless you let me know and get myconsent beforehand."
Jack, as I called him to myself, answered gaily back with a rathercurious smile:
"If you like, you need see nobody but our own two selves. We'llpromise not to introduce anybody to you without due leave, and tolet you do as you like in that and in everything."
So I yielded at last.
"Well, I must know your name," I said tentatively.
And Jack, looking queerly at me with an inquiring air, said:
"My sister's name's Elsie; mine's John Cheriton."
"And yours?" Elsie asked, glancing timidly down at me.
My heart beat hard. I was face to face with a dilemma. These werefriends of Courtenay Ivor's, and I had given myself away to them. Iwas going to their house, to accept their hospitality--and tobetray their friend! Never in my life did I feel so guilty before.Oh! what on earth was I to do? I had told them too much; I had goneto work foolishly. If I said my real name, I should let out my wholesecret. I must brazen it out now. With tremulous lips and flushedcheek, I answered quickly, "Julia Marsden."
Elsie drew back, all abashed. In a moment her cheek grew stillredder, I felt sure, than my own.
"Oh, Marsden!" she cried, eyeing me close. "Why, I thought you wereMiss Callingham!"
"How on earth did you know that?" I exclaimed, terrified almost outof my life. Was I never for one moment to escape my own personality?
"Why, they put it in the papers that you were coming," Elsieanswered, looking tenderly at me, more in sympathy than in anger."And it's written on your bag, you know, that Jack put up in therack there... That's why we were so sorry for you, and so grieved atthe way you must have been hustled on the quay. And that's also whywe wanted you to come to us... But don't be a bit afraid. We quiteunderstand you want to travel incognita. After the sort of receptionyou got at Quebec, no wonder you're afraid of these hatefulsightseers!... Very well, dear," she took my hand with the air of anold friend, "your disguise shall be respected while you stop at ourhouse. Miss Marsden let it be. You can make any inquiries you likeabout Dr. Ivor. We will be secrecy itself. We'll say nothing toanyone. And my brother'll take your ticket at Sharbot Lake forAdolphus Town."
I broke down once more. I fairly cried at such kindness.
"Oh, how good you are!" I said. "How very, very good. This is morethan one could ever have expected from strangers."
She held my hand and stroked it.
"We're not strangers," she answered. "We're English ourselves. Wesympathise deeply with you in this new, strange country. You musttreat us exactly like a brother and sister. We liked you at firstsight, and we're sure we'll get on with you."
I lifted her hand to my lips and kissed it.
"And I liked you also," I said, "and your brother, too. You're bothso good and kind. How can I ever sufficiently thank you?"