01 The Building of Jalna (28 page)

Oh, how cold it suddenly was! Clear and cold and sharp as a knife. The cold woods stood darkly waiting. The trees marched on to meet the great forests of the north, on and on till their march was ended and there were no more trees but only frozen lake and ice-bound land. The night Robert returned from his university the weather moderated, the sky grew heavy. All night the snow fell. There was to be real Christmas weather.

With Robert’s luggage carried to his room, with Robert tall and fair and smiling in the house, Mrs. Vaughan’s heart sang. She felt that she really was to become acquainted with the son of whom she had seen so little. But Robert found it easier to be natural with Adeline than with his parents.

“Perhaps it is that they expect so much of me,” he said when he had voiced this feeling to Adeline. “They expect me to be a loyal Canadian when I scarcely know the country. They expect me to be a noble character when I am really full of faults. They expect me to show my affection when I’m really confoundedly shy. But you expect no more of me than I can achieve.” He gave her an eloquent look. “If you knew my thoughts as the train was bringing me home you would have been surprised.”

She smiled. “Should I?”

“Yes. I was wondering what it was all about. Why was I cramming my head with book learning at the university? What fate had thrown you into my life … what would my life be … should I ever really belong anywhere …was I real … what do all our struggles mean? Now this house you are building — can you
cling to it? Does it make you feel safe? I was wondering about these things.”

“From season to season is enough for me,” she said. “If I have my very own roof and those who belong to me under it — that is real.”

“My friendship means nothing to you!” he exclaimed.

“I should love this place less if you were not my friend.”

“I should hate it if you weren’t here,” he exclaimed hotly. “This country is just a great waste to me. Perhaps my son, if I have one, will love it, but I never shall. Look at the snow. It will cover everything for months. In Montreal it is worse.”

Adeline touched his cheek with her fingers.

“Ah, Bobby,” she said, “what a one you are for talking! Let us go out and make snowballs. I used to make them in Quebec with the Balestrier children.”

“Am I a child too?” he asked mournfully.

“You are very sweet,” she answered.

Mrs. Vaughan groaned as she saw the two pelting each other with snowballs. Adeline’s recklessness frightened her. To handle snow and she with such a cough! To exert so in her condition was almost wicked. But she held the children up to the window to see their mother’s wild behaviour. As Philip appeared from the woods he was greeted by a snowball full on the breast and, when he entered the battle, it became fierce indeed. Nero bounded after the snowballs, he jumped up on the opponents, almost overthrowing them.

“Heaven help that unborn child,” thought Mrs. Vaughan. She stroked back the crest of hair from Nicholas’s forehead. “Just look at your mother!” she said.

He chuckled, wet his finger in his mouth, and drew it across the pane.

Mrs. Vaughan stroked Gussie’s head. “Your mother is as wild as a deer,” she said. “It is not good for the next little brother.”

“No more little brothers, please,” answered Gussie. She felt the cough rising in the pit of her stomach.

“When you are a little older, perhaps on your next birthday, Gussie, I am going to have a tea party for you. About six nice
little children. The little Pink boys —” She felt the cough shaking Gussie’s chest. Then it came.

By Christmas the land was frozen solid but not with the bitter coldness of Quebec. Wilmott’s river formed a glassy pond just by his wharf. He and Tite cleared it of snow and swept it clean. They worked together in complete happiness. From the night of his intoxication, Wilmott had avoided the Vaughans. On that night he had taken a dislike to Mrs. Vaughan and to Dr. Ramsey. But he had settled down to life in the neighborhood. He went to the Pinks’ and the Laceys’ to play whist, to talk politics and religion. Reverernd Heber Pink was a sturdy, florid-complexioned man of early middle-age, with wife rather like himself except that she was timid where he was hearty and sure of himself in all company. He was very hard-worked and was accustomed to expose himself in all weathers. He had three parishes, one with a good church in the village of Stead where the community about Jalna attended service, two in smaller villages, considerable distances apart and with small wooden churches which he was struggling to improve. He was argumentative but tolerant and he enjoyed his talks with Wilmott. But he liked Philip much better and was encouraging him to donate land and give substantial aid to the building of a new church. If this were done, Mr. Pink would be relieved of his two small churches.

Captain Lacey’s young son had leave from his ship which was lying at Halifax, and was home for the holiday season. He was a high-spirited boy, not at all like Robert Vaughan, but the two youths became friendly at once. There was a festive feeling in the neighborhood. The building of Jalna had added a new interest to life. The house was talked of for miles about and people drove long distances to inspect it.

Wilmott had made up his mind to give a skating party. No one in the neighborhood had done such a thing before nor had he himself ever given a skating party. But it now became the one form of entertainment which appealed to him. To be sure, his house was very small but, if the day were not too cold, refreshments could be
served out of doors. He had bought skates, not only for himself but for Tite, and the two had practised for days on the river with many bruises and sore muscles. The Pinks and the Laceys were competent skaters. So were others in the neighborhood, including the Busbys, a family who had lived in Canada for generations and had several young sons and daughters. Adeline never had had the opportunity to skate. Now she was determined to, though Mrs. Vaughan did her utmost to dissuade her and even braced herself to speak to Philip about it. He, surprisingly, seemed to think it would not hurt Adeline and was himself eager to skate. “If the unborn child is a cripple,” thought Mrs. Vaughan, “the blame is on their heads. But I could weep when I think of the poor little thing.”

Philip had had some practice in Quebec and chaffed Wilmott because he had not taken advantage of his opportunities there. He bought skates for Adeline and for Daisy also, who was in a state of bliss because she not only could skate but could do the figure eight and the grapevine. She promised Philip to teach him to waltz on the ice.

Christmas Day passed in pleasant serenity. A tree was brought from the woods for the children and decorated with tinsel and candles. Large packages of presents came from Philip’s sister in Devonshire and at least a dozen, very badly wrapped and in which many of the contents were broken, from Adeline’s relatives in Ireland. She had bought Philip a dark green velvet smoking jacket and cap, and embroidered a design in gay silks on the cuffs and collar of the jacket and around the cap, from the top of which depended a gold tassel. He looked so perfectly beautiful when adorned in these that Adeline could have wept to see him. He was a little rueful to think he could not wear them at once, but must lay them away till he was under his own roof. He wore the rueful expression when displaying the gifts to Mrs. Vaughan, which somewhat embarrassed her but not to the extent of telling him to light a cigar that very moment.

On Christmas Day, Gussie wore her finest pantalettes and in them appeared a little girl, no longer just a baby. They were of
dainty whiteness beneath the blue silk frock with short sleeves and low-cut neck, and Adeline had herself made the lace which edged them. Gussie looked so adorable in these that Adeline could have wept to see her, also. She snatched her up and covered her face with kisses, then held her out for Philip’s inspection, her little blue shoes dangling beneath the pantalettes.

“Did you ever see anything so enchanting and ridiculous?” she exclaimed.

Gussie looked faintly offended. She thought they were laughing at her. Nicholas, who was accustomed to being the centre of attraction, could not bear to see his sister so enthroned. He crept to Adeline’s skirt and attempted to climb up it, ruffle by ruffle. Philip picked him up and set him on his broad shoulder.

“They are a pretty pair,” he declared. “The little Balestriers cannot hold a candle to ’em.”

“Neither can the little Pinks.”

“Nor any other children I know.”

“I wonder who our new baby will be like.”

“I hope for another boy. But I wish the little beggar weren’t coming.”

“I hope he will be fair and the image of you.”

“Yes. It is about time there was one like me. But he will probably be the image of your father, red hair and all.”

“Heaven forbid!”

“I think I should like to call him Charles, after my father. He was a fine man and Charles goes well with Whiteoak.”

“If you name him for your father he must be named for mine too.”

“I don’t see why.”

“Do you want to push my poor father out of everything?” she flared.

“You said a moment ago that you hoped the child wouldn’t look like him.”

“That’s different.”

“Do you mean to say you would call your son Renny?”

“My father has more than one name. His name is Dennis Patrick Crawshay St. John Renny.”

“Hmph. I can’t say I like any of them.”

“Not Dennis?”

“Dennis is not bad.”

“My dear father,” she said, in a mild tone, “was called Dennis all his life till he was twenty-three. Then the uncle he was named for offered him a thousand pounds if he would use one of his other names. So my father, who was willing to come for any name whatever when money was in question, cast aside Dennis and became Renny. But indeed there are members of the family who still call him Dennis, because they so hate him that they will not call him by their grandfather’s name. Not that their grandfather was a man to boast of. He was —”

Philip was looking at his watch. “It is time to dress,” he interrupted, “and if you want me to hook up your stays we had better begin.”

The weather on the day of Wilmott’s skating party was crystal-bright and cold. But there was no wind and the cold was exhilarating. A glittering snow powder was now and again sifted through the clear air which was devoid of all scent, but struck the nostrils impersonal and penetrating. Footprints of the wild creatures lay like little etchings on the glittering snow. It was as though the day had been especially ordered.

Wilmott and Tite worked hard all the morning clearing the ice of snow, sweeping it with brooms, not only on the pond but for some distance up the river. They had built benches for the ladies to rest on and over them they had laid red and grey blankets. A neighboring farmer’s wife had come in to help with the refreshments. To grace the occasion, Wilmott had put on a red scarf, the long fringed ends of which dangled over his waistcoat.

The Pinks were the first to arrive and Wilmott was glad of this. They lent an air of comfort to a party. The Rector chaffed Wilmott about introducing new and frivolous ways to the community. Mrs. Pink laughed a little when her husband made a joke, smiled when
Wilmott made one. She was thankful to say that her little boys were quite recovered from whooping cough.

The next to arrive were the Laceys. They brought with them their son, an only child like Robert Vaughan, but in this case the only child raised out of three, so he was trebly precious. The Laceys were the Pinks’ most intimate friends. They quickly merged into a group so congenial that Wilmott felt a little out of it. He looked anxiously toward the road, for he could hear the jingle of sleigh bells. A large sleigh drawn by two rawboned, only half-broken-in horses precariously entered the gate. A lusty young fellow was driving them and with some trouble brought them to a halt. Another lusty young fellow jumped out of the sleigh and ran to their heads. Three buxom girls scrambled out. Young Lacey flew to their assistance but was in time only to assist their enormously stout mother.

The father of the family came last. He was Elihu Busby who had been the original owner of much of the land hereabout. He was in his early sixties but might well have passed for less than fifty. He was so straight as almost to lean backward. He had fought in the War of 1812 under General Sir Isaac Brock and had lost an arm in the battle of Queenston Heights. He was of mixed English, Irish, and Scottish extraction but had a faint contempt for each of these peoples which, in the case of the Scotch, amounted to dislike. But his strongest prejudice was against the Americans. He was descended from United Empire Loyalists who had left affluence behind them in New England and escaped to Canada in the early days of the Revolution. The persecutions they had suffered before they left rankled with amazing freshness in his mind, for he had drunk them in as a boy from his grandparents’ relating. He was proud and egotistical but he had taken a fancy to Wilmott and enjoyed nothing more than to inform a newcomer on all affairs of the Province. His eldest daughter, Kate, also had taken a fancy to Wilmott but a much warmer one, and could scarcely wait for the moment when they would skate together. Busby himself was businesslike about the skating and, immediately after greeting his
host, sat down at the edge of the river and commanded his eldest son, Isaac, to put his skates on him, which he could not do for himself because of his lost arm.

The Whiteoaks and Robert and Daisy Vaughan now joined the party. A little later it was completed by the appearance of Dr. Ramsey who tied his mare to a tree, blanketed it and stalked up to Wilmott, as though he were a patient who would probably never pay his bill.

“I can’t stay long,” he announced. “I have to go to Stead. I have a man there with his arm broken in three places.”

“Amputate it,” advised Busby, over his shoulder, “the way they did mine. Give him a gill of whiskey and amputate it.”

Dr. Ramsey ignored this remark. He folded his arms and looked disapprovingly at Adeline.

“She has no business to be here,” he said. “Just recovering from whooping cough and due to have a child in April! And look at the way she is laced!”