o, love will build his lily walls,
and love his pearly roof will rear,—
on cloud or land, or mist or sea—
love's solid land is everywhere!
—isabelle valancy crawford.
the minister and his wife had been on a pastoral visitation to the oa, and, having had an early tea at long lauchie's, were driving homeward.
the first snow had fallen a few days before and had been succeeded by rain, which, freezing as it fell, formed a hard, glassy "crust" on the top of the snow. this glimmering surface reflected the radiant evening skies like a polished mirror. the surrounding fields were a sea of glass mingled with fire, and the whole earth had become an exact copy of heaven. away ahead stretched the road like two polished, golden bars that gradually melted into the violet and mauve tints of the dusky pines. through the frequent openings in the purple forest they could see, far over hill and valley, a marvellous vista, all enveloped in the wondrous glow, the patches of woodland looking like fairy islands floating in a sea of gold. overhead, the delicately green heavens shone through the marvellous tracery of the bare branches. the horse's bells echoed far into the woods, the only sound in the winter stillness, for the whole world seemed silent and wondering before the beauty of the dying day.
the two travellers had not spoken for some time; the minister was lost in contemplation of the glorious night, and the minister's wife, alas, was absorbed in a subject that had been worrying her for more than a month, the subject of miss isabel herbert.
before her visit at the manse had terminated, mrs. cameron had come to consider her invitation to that young lady as the great mistake of her hitherto well-ordered life. for no sooner had the guest been settled than that young macdonald, who was such a friend of mr. monteith, began to appear with alarming frequency. now, though there might have been no harm in captain herbert's niece playing in the backwoods with big malcolm's grandson when they were children, mrs. cameron mentally declared that, now they were grown up, such a thing as intimacy between them was absolutely out of the question. miss herbert, she well knew, would be horrified at the thought, and she set herself sternly to discourage the young man's attentions.
but she found this no easy task. one of her greatest obstacles was the minister himself. the good man had long yearned to bring monteith and his friend into the church and now hailed scotty's visits as special opportunities sent him by providence. to his wife's dismay he warmly welcomed the young man, pressed him to come again speedily, and was, in his innocent goodness of heart, as much a trial to his wife as isabel herself.
and isabel certainly was a handful. in captain herbert's niece one surely might have looked for a model, but the young lady did not conduct herself with the exact propriety her hostess expected. mrs. cameron was quietly proud of the fact that she had been very well brought up herself and knew what was due one's station in life. but miss isabel was an anomaly. she belonged to one of the best families in the county of simcoe and had been educated in a select school for young ladies; but, in spite of these advantages, she would much rather tear around the house with the dog, her hair flying in the wind, than sit in the parlour with her crocheting, as a young lady should. moreover, if she could be persuaded to settle for a moment with a piece of sewing, at the sound of a horse's hoofs at the gate, or the whirl of a buggy up the driveway, she would jump from her seat, scattering spools, scissors and thimble in every direction and go dancing out to the door, joyfully announcing to everyone within the house that here was "dear old scotty!"
and yet, she was so charmingly deferential, and, in spite of her high spirits, so anxious to please, that her hostess had not the heart to chide her. her whole-hearted innocence had begun to disarm the lady's suspicions when, at the end of a week, the watchful eye noted signs of an alarming change in her troublesome charge. isabel ceased entirely to mention scotty's name. she did not talk, either, as had been her wont, of the delightful times they had had together in their childhood. neither did she run to meet him any more when he came, but would sit demurely at her sewing until he entered, or even fly upstairs when his horse appeared at the gate.
these were the worst possible symptoms, and mrs. cameron appealed to the minister. but he, good man, was not at all perturbed. he saw nothing to worry about, he declared. probably the young lady had discovered that she did not care for her old comrade as much as when they were children and was taking this tactful way of showing him the fact. mrs. cameron was in a state of mingled indignation and despair over such masculine obtuseness, and vowed that if young macdonald were not politely requested to discontinue his attentions to captain herbert's niece, she would feel it her duty to send the aforesaid niece home.
but the minister would consider neither project. when he had a man's soul in view everything else must be made subordinate. the young man was showing signs of an awakening conscience, he affirmed; he had displayed wonderful interest in the sermons lately and had asked some very hopeful questions during their last conversation. and beside all this the young lady was having a good influence on him, for the lad had missed neither church nor prayer meeting since she came. indeed, she was a fine lassie, and wonderfully clear on the essentials; though, of course, she had a few unsound anglican doctrines. but kirsty john's mother had trained her well in her childhood and she was not far astray. no, it would be interfering with the inscrutable ways of providence to separate these two now, they must just let them be.
so scotty and isabel had things all their own way; and, when, at last, weaver jimmie and his wife came and carried the young lady off to the oa, her late hostess declared she washed her hands of the whole affair.
but her guest's departure did not bring her entire relief from responsibility. she could not get away from the suspicion that miss herbert would blame her, and the rumours that came from the oa were not calculated to allay her fears. kirsty john's little lady from the grange and big malcolm's scot were always together, the gossips said, and indeed it was a great wonder the black colt wasn't driven to death.
so to-night mrs. cameron was too much worried to notice the beauty of the landscape. nearly a month had slipped past since isabel had left her; the herberts had returned to the grange, and still the young lady showed no signs of departing. the minister's wife looked out sharply as they approached weaver jimmie's place. if she could catch sight of her late guest she would delicately hint that propriety demanded that she go home.
as they entered a little evergreen wood that bordered weaver jimmie's farm, there arose the sound of singing from the road ahead.
a turn around a cedar clump brought into view a solitary figure a few yards before them—the figure of a little old man, wearing a scotch bonnet and wrapped in a gay tartan plaid. it was a bent, homely figure, but one containing a soul apparently lifted far above earthly things, for he was pouring forth a psalm, expressive of his joy in the glory of the evening, and with an ecstasy that might have befitted orpheus greeting the dawn.
his voice was high, loud, and cracked; but the words he had chosen showed that old farquhar discerned the divine in nature, a revelation that comes only to the true artist:
"ye gates, lift up your heads on high;
ye doors that last for aye,
be lifted up that so the king
of glory enter may.
but who is he that is the king
of glory? who is this?
the lord of hosts, and none but he
the king of glory is!"
the minister smiled tenderly, there was a mist before his eyes when he paused to shake the old man's withered hand.
"yes, it is a wonderful night, farquhar," he said. "truly the heavens declare the glory of god and the firmament showeth his handiwork."
the old man smiled ecstatically, and after a halting greeting in english to the minister's wife, dropped into gaelic. mrs. cameron did not understand the language of her husband's people, and while the two men conversed she looked about her. kirsty's house was just beyond the grove, isabel might be near. a narrow, dim pathway led from the road across the woods to the house, an alluring pathway bordered thickly with firs, and now all in purple shadows, except when occasionally the golden light sifted through the velvety branches and touched the snow. something was moving away down the shadowy aisle. she looked sharply, it moved out into a lighter space and resolved itself into two figures going slowly, so very slowly, down the path in the direction of the weaver's house. there was no mistaking isabel's long, grey coat, or young macdonald's stalwart figure. they paused at the bars that led into the yard, they were evidently saying good-night....
mrs. cameron did not wait even to take off her bonnet, upon her return home, before sitting down to write miss herbert, of the grange, a letter, a letter which evidently alarmed the recipient, for before many days miss isabel packed her trunk with a very sober face and took her leave.
it was partly this sudden manner of her departure that made monteith resolve to visit his friends at lake oro. he wanted to see captain herbert on important business—business which, he felt, had been too long delayed, and besides he was anxious to discover, if possible, what the people of the grange had done to offend ralph on the day he had taken isabel home.
that he had been mortally offended by someone monteith could not help seeing; but whether by isabel herself, or another, scotty's reticence prevented his discovering.
"i'm going up to the captain's to-morrow," he remarked casually, as he sat and smoked by big malcolm's fire one evening. he glanced at scotty, and that young man arose and began to cram the red-hot stove with wood, until his grandfather shouted to him that he must be gone daft, for was he wanting to roast them all out?
"oh, indeed," said mrs. macdonald, suspending her knitting with a look of pleased interest. "and you will be seeing the little lady. eh, it is herself will be the fine girl, not a bit o' pride, with all her beautiful manners and her learning, indeed."
"she will be jist the same as when she used to run round this house in her bare feet with scotty," declared big malcolm enthusiastically. "it is a great peety indeed that she will belong to that english upstart!"
scotty had settled down in deep absorption to whittle a stick and was apparently taking no notice of the conversation.
monteith regarded big malcolm curiously. he had been long enough in the settlement to understand that the ordinary pioneer had no love for the more privileged class that had settled along the waterfronts. socially the latter belonged to a different sphere from the farmers; and having often been able, in the early days, to secure from the government concessions not granted to all, they were regarded by the common folk with some resentment. but the difference between the two classes, like all other differences, was fast dying out, and the schoolmaster well knew that big malcolm had other and deeper reasons for his dislike of a man so popular as captain herbert. he longed to know, before he visited the grange, just how much his friend had sinned against the old man.
"oh, i suppose he's no worse than many of his kind," he said tentatively.
"aye, but that is jist where you will be mistaken," said big malcolm, a dangerous light beginning to leap up in his eye. "if this place would be knowing the kind of a man he is, indeed it would not be parliament he would be thinking about next fall, but——" he stopped suddenly. "och, hoch, the lord forgive me, and he will be your friend, too, mr. monteith," he added hastily, with a return of his natural courtesy. "indeed i would be forgetting myself."
"why does your grandfather hate the captain so?" inquired monteith, as scotty walked with him to the gate.
"i'll not know," said scotty morosely. "i think they had some quarrel long ago, about land or something, when they came here first."
"and did he never give any hint of what the trouble was?"
"not to us boys. it was one of those things he would always be fighting against, and granny kept him back, too. he would be often going to speak of the captain, when she would stop him." scotty's tone was gloomy. this last surviving feud of his warlike grandfather weighed heavily upon his soul. for, indeed, matters had gone sadly wrong in scotty's world lately, and life was proving a very hard and sordid business.
monteith said no more, but the next morning he set off for his friend's house, determined to settle once for all those questions which had been troubling him ever since he had learned that young ralph stanwell lived. something must be done with ralph, and that right away. he had taught him as far as he could, and the boy must not be allowed to waste his talents in the backwoods.
the grange, captain herbert's residence on the shore of lake oro, was a different building from the homes of the people among whom the schoolmaster lived; for its owner belonged to the fortunate class for whom life during the early settlement of the country had been made easy by money and political influence.
the house, a long, low, white stone building with plenty of broad verandahs, stood close to the water's edge, sheltered by a stately oak grove. it was surrounded by wide lawns and a garden, all now covered with their winter blanket.
as monteith went up the broad, well-shovelled path, a crowd of dogs of all sizes came tearing round the house from the rear with a tumult of barking. he stooped to fondle a little terrier, and when he looked up the master of the house was coming down the steps with outstretched hands.
"by jove, archie!" he cried, his face shining with pleasure, "i'd almost come to the conclusion that the fighting macdonalds had eaten you alive! why, we haven't seen you since october, and i've been blue-moulding for somebody to talk to. well, i am glad to see you. get down, you confounded brute! come in. come in. why, you certainly are a stranger. and just at the right moment, too! i'm all alone. brian drove eleanor and belle to barbay this morning. get out, you infernal curs! those dogs all ought to be shot!"
and so, talking loud and fast, as was his manner, the hearty captain led the way into the house. a small room at the left of the hall, with two windows looking out upon the ice-bound lake, constituted the captain's private den. a bright wood fire blazed in the open grate. the host drew up a couple of arm-chairs before it.
"so you've decided to immure yourself in the backwoods for another year, i hear," he said, when his guest was comfortably seated and supplied with a cigar. "come, archie, this will never do. two years was the limit you set when you took the school, and there's no more the matter with you than there is with me. you're actually getting fat, man!"
"why, i do believe i am," said the other apologetically. "i shall probably grow corpulent and lazy, and settle down in glenoro to a peaceful old age."
"not a bit of you! you look like a new man, and you ought to get back to your law books."
monteith drew his hand over his grey hair with a meaning smile. "it seems rather foolish at my age, but i believe i shall; the oro air has really made a new man of me, as you say. i believe i should have gone long ago if i hadn't been interested in a certain young person there."
"a young person! thunder and lightning, archie, don't tell me you've gone and fallen in love!"
monteith laughed. "upon my word i believe i have," he asserted, "but don't look so aghast, the object of my devotion is six feet high, and is cultivating a moustache."
"oh, that young macdonald chum of yours. you gave me quite a shock." the guest noticed that his friend's face changed at the mention of scotty; there was a moment's rather awkward silence.
"so the ladies are away," said monteith at last. "i am unfortunate."
captain herbert burst into a hearty laugh. "why, bless my soul, you've had the escape of your life! eleanor has it in for you, for shifting your responsibility and sending little bluebell home with your young macdonald; an uncommonly handsome young beggar he is too, with the airs of a highland chieftain, quite the kind calculated to be dangerous, eleanor thinks. i'm afraid she wasn't as cordial to the boy as she might have been, and probably lost me a couple of good macdonald votes."
monteith looked enlightened. "why, i must apologise," he said, "but i did not dream i was transgressing. miss herbert surely knows that they have been like brother and sister since their baby days?"
"oh, that's just the trouble. eleanor's scared they're not going to remain like brother and sister. she and your minister's wife down there have got it into their busy heads that the little monkey's inclined to think too much about this old chum of hers. bluebell's the right sort, i assure you, archie, never forgets an old friend. harold's just the same. every time he writes he sends his love to every old codger that chopped down a tree on this place. it's a fine quality. it's irish. we get it from my mother's side, though i'm more english than irish myself, praise the lord. well, it seems this loyalty is out of place in this case, and eleanor thinks the less belle sees of this young man the better. all perfect bosh and unthinkable nonsense, you know; but you can never account for the mental workings of some people. a woman's mind picks up an idea, particularly if it concerns matrimony in the remotest degree, as a hen does a piece of bread, and runs squawking all round this earthly barnyard advertising the matter until she convinces herself and all the rest of the human fowl that she's got a whole baking in her bill. eleanor has snatched up some such notion about isabel and this young macdonald, and the youngster hardly out of short dresses yet! but there it is. she'll never let go. all rubbish!"
he burst into a hearty laugh, and poked the fire until it crackled and roared. "now, archie, what sort of figure do you think i shall cut running for parliament next fall? think the oa 'll run me off the face of the earth?"
"just one moment, captain, before you leave this subject, and we'll talk politics all day afterwards. far be it from me to even glance into the dark mysteries of matchmaking, but i'd like to know why miss herbert should object so strongly to my young friend on so short an acquaintance?"
captain herbert looked surprised. he drew himself up with a slight access of dignity. "oh, come now, monteith!" he exclaimed, "you are surely worldly wise enough to understand that, though this young scotty may be the most exemplary inhabitant of that excellent section where you teach, he would scarcely be a match for my niece."
"i understand perfectly. and if ralph were one of the ordinary young men of the place i should most heartily agree with you. but you don't know him. he is an exceptionally fine fellow; he has had as much education as i have been able to guide him to since i came here, and indeed he is a thorough gentleman at heart."
captain herbert shrugged his shoulders. "i suppose that's all true, but what difference does that make? you don't want me to offer him my niece, i hope."
monteith paid no attention to such frivolity. he turned squarely upon his host.
"then i suppose you know he's the equal in birth to anyone in this part of the country. you know, of course, that his name is not really macdonald?"
captain herbert seized the poker and attacked the fire again. he seemed waiting for monteith to proceed, but as he did not, he answered rather shortly, "so i believe."
there was a long silence. the host sat back again, swung one foot over the other impatiently, and at last turned upon his silent companion.
"go on!" he cried. "out with it! i know what you want to say!"
monteith slowly turned his eyes from the fire and looked into his host's face.
"i don't want to say anything disagreeable, captain," he said courteously.
captain herbert arose and walked to the window.
"i knew this would come some day, when i saw you were getting so infernally chummy with all the macdonald clan. that dear friend of mine, old firebrand malcolm, has been telling you tales, i see."
"on the contrary, he has scarcely ever mentioned your name to me. big malcolm is not that sort," said monteith, with some dignity. "but it was impossible for me not to remember ralph stanwell, senior; it all came to me the moment the boy told me his name."
there was a moment of intense silence, and at last the man turned from the window.
"well," he said, coming to the fireside, "why don't you speak? what have you got to say about it?" his manner was half-defiant.
"i don't know that you'll think it's my place to say anything, captain. but—well, since you ask my opinion, i must confess that, though i am not in possession of all the facts, the thing does not look exactly—straight."
captain herbert glared at him. "you are the only man in ontario who would dare to say that to me, archibald monteith!" he cried.
monteith arose, smiling. "well, captain, be thankful you have at least one honest friend in ontario. and," he added, with a sudden change of tone, "look here, i haven't come to you about this in anger. i am ralph's friend, but i am yours, too, and have many debts of kindness owing you. but, honestly now, is it or is it not true that you jumped a claim and appropriated the boy's property, perhaps unwittingly?"
"it was unwittingly, archie," burst out the other, with a look of relief. "i know the affair must look nasty to you; but, as sure as i stand here, i didn't know the child was alive until he was nearly seven years old."
"but the grandfather? did he never interfere in the child's interests?"
"that old fire-eater! if he hadn't been such a maniac, i should never have made the mistake i did. i tell you the whole thing was misrepresented to me. stanwell and his wife and, as i was told, his child too, died just before i landed here. this property of his was partially cleared, but was represented to me as totally unclaimed. you know that as well as i do. don't you remember the day i left toronto to come up here? well, after i had spent hundreds of dollars on the place that old lord of the isles got wind of it away back there in the bush, and came down on me like a deposed king. he talked so loud and so fast, and half of it in gaelic, that i paid no attention to him, and at last ordered him off the place. my brother harold had been instrumental in getting the place for me, so i wrote him and asked if it was possible that anyone connected with captain stanwell could have any claim on my property. he wrote back to say that stanwell and everyone belonging to him were dead, but that he would come up soon and see about it. well, you know he died the next week, and little bluebell was left to me. those were hard times for me, archie, as you know. maud was taken next, and i was left alone with two helpless children on my hands and my finances in the very deuce of a state. i forgot all about everything but the troubles that had come upon me. then i sent for eleanor to look after my family, and after she came i had other reasons you know nothing about for keeping silent concerning captain stanwell. and so the years slipped away, and there it is, you see. if i had given up the property when i settled here first i should have been almost destitute. now, i ask you, is there any living man could blame me?"
monteith answered warily. "there are not many men who would have acted differently in your place, i fear, only—it's rather hard on the boy."
"pshaw, i don't believe the boy's claim was worth a brass farthing. if it was, why couldn't his old grandfather have gone to law about it?"
monteith shook his head. "you don't know those highlanders; they would sooner be bereft of every stick or stone they possess than enter a law court. besides, you can't deny, captain, that even had big malcolm wished to take such measures, he well knew that in those days a man of his class hadn't much chance against one of yours."
captain herbert tramped up and down the little room. monteith sat silent, waiting. he was able to guess with some degree of accuracy the workings of his friend's mind. captain herbert was a man who believed in letting circumstances take care of themselves, particularly if they were of the disagreeable variety; but he would willingly do no man a wrong; and monteith well knew that his warm heart was a prey to regret, and he was therefore full of hope for ralph. but the captain had a stormy journey to traverse before arriving at any conclusion.
"if the matter were taken into a law court now, no fool would say for a moment that i wasn't the owner of this place after all these years. it was a howling wilderness when i came here."
"but a court might say you were under some obligation to that boy, captain."
"nonsense! do you want me to present him with a deed of all my property?"
"not at all, but i want you to act fairly by him, as i am sure you will."
the steady tramp ceased at last, and as monteith had expected his host came and stood before the fire.
"it's a mean business, the whole thing, i know, archie; and i've hated the thought of it all these years. but what could i do? it was too late to mend matters when i found my mistake."
"it's never too late to mend," quoted the imperturbable guest. "and you're comfortably well off now, captain, with that last legacy."
captain herbert evidently did not hear him. "i'm sorry about that boy," he said, staring into the grate with brows knit, "i'm truly sorry."
monteith felt that now was his opportunity, and he put scotty's case forward strongly. he was careful not to press the boy's legal claims, but made much of the moral obligation. here was a young man with marked ability and no worldly resources, his high ambitions fettered by poverty. he had already spent two winters in the lumber camps; he was getting to be a famous river pilot, and, as matters stood, there seemed nothing better ahead of him. ralph was a youth who would probably make his way in the world somehow, but just now he needed a helping hand. a little assistance at present would make his fortune, and who so fitted to give that assistance as captain herbert?
the appeal was received in silence. captain herbert sat, his brows drawn together, his eyes fixed upon the fire. "there's another reason, stronger than any you suspect for my sister's antipathy for the young man," he said suddenly without looking up. monteith's eyebrows rose.
"it is a very unpleasant subject to refer to, but it seems necessary that you should know. when captain stanwell came to this country he was engaged to marry my sister. he came out here, presumably to make a home for her. a pretty face among the emigrants took his fancy, and he married shortly after he landed. so you may imagine i am not likely to have any warm feeling for the rascal's son."
