01 The Building of Jalna (42 page)

“What did I tell you, Tite?” said Wilmott. “If you think you will please me by applying to me the foolish things that girl said of you, you are much mistaken.”

“Of course I am, Boss. I am sure she is a harlot.”

“Now,” said Wilmott, ignoring the last remark, “I am going to deposit this money in the bank for you, to be drawn on as needed. Do you agree?”

“Oh, yes, Boss. But could we keep back a pound or two to buy us a few treats, such as candied fruit and bull’s-eyes?”

“I shall buy those for you,” said Wilmott.

“But I should like to buy them with my own money, Boss. You see, the wagest you pay me are not very high and I give something to my grandmother. Now I come to think of it, I give all my wages to my family.

“Balderdash!” said Wilmott, but he flung him a pound note. “Take it,” he said testily, “and do what you like with it.”

“Mille remerciments,”
said Tite, smiling. “You see I can speak a little French, on occasion, Boss.”

A w
EEK LATER
, Daisy Vaughan left her uncle’s house and returned to Montreal. It was understood that the nervous and physical strain she had been under had made a complete change necessary. The Whiteoaks did not see her before her departure but those who did declared that she looked not in the least ill or dejected. Indeed Kate Brent said that Daisy had never looked better or been more talkative. It had been as good as a play to hear her description of the days she had been lost in the forest. She had had encounters with wild animals which had been seen by no other in that vicinity for a generation. But she seemed willing to return to Montreal. She could no longer endure, she said, to remain in such a backwater.

Colonel Vaughan accompanied his niece on the journey. Her visit had been an expensive one for him. Besides providing for her for a year, which included the buying of some quite expensive clothes, there had been considerable cost connected with the searching party, to say nothing of the large reward paid to Tite. Now there was the expense of the journey.

After Daisy’s return to Montreal she corresponded regularly with Lydia Busby for some time. She wrote of the gaiety of that town, the
soirées
, the balls. She filled Lydia with a mad desire
to do something of the sort. At last came the news of Daisy’s engagement to a South American artist who had been painting in the Laurentians; and finally invitations to her wedding. She and her husband were to leave at once for Paris where they would for some years make their home.

But though these letters caused much disturbance in the breasts of the young Busbys, so that their father was put to it to keep them in order, they made little impression at Jalna. There, with the harvest to be garnered, the winter quarters for the growing number of livestock to be got ready, the house to be prepared for an impending visit from Adeline’s parents, the building of the church to be sufficiently completed for consecration and the christening of Ernest, little interest was left over for the doings of the outer world. Adeline and Philip consigned Daisy to the past.

In truth, Philip could have very well done without this visit from his parents-in-law. He was somewhat tired of the three Courts who were still at Jalna. However it had been arranged that they were to return to Ireland with the older members of the family. Otherwise, Philip feared they might have remained throughout the winter, for they had already expressed a desire to indulge in skating and snow-shoeing.

Philip’s face, in those days, expressed a serenity that might well have roused the envy of men of a later day. He was up almost at dawn. At night he was no more than healthily tired and was still so full of interest in all he had to do that he could scarcely bear to go to his bed. When he saw his heavy wagons, drawn by his ponderous farm horses, roll into the barn with their weight of barley, wheat or oats, his heart swelled with pride. It was not that he had much land under cultivation as yet but that what was cultivated had borne so well. Then there were his cattle, his pigs and his sheep, all flourishing and with good shelter and plenty of fodder for the coming winter. Above all, there was Adeline, the picture of glowing health and so happy in the new life! There were his children growing each day in strength and intelligence. Gussie already knew her letters, was learning to sew
and could say by heart and without a mistake several poems suitable to her age. Nicholas, not yet two, might have passed for three, so upright, so full-chested, so stirring was he. His mop of curls now touched his shoulders and the combing out of their tangles caused him to fill the house with his cries of rage and pain. Ernest was an angel with his downy fair head, his forget-me-not blue eyes, and his smile that was even sweeter because it was toothless.

Nero worshiped all three children with a dark, stubborn, masterful worship. He would endure all three sprawling on his back at once but, if Nicholas went too near the edge of the ravine, he would draw him back by his dress, for somewhere in Nero’s mind there remained a picture of Nicholas shooting downward to the river in the perambulator.

One morning in September, when goldenrod and Michaelmas daisies blazed in bloom about the new church, Adeline and Philip were standing together inside its doors, admiring the effect of the long strip of crimson carpet that extended from where they stood, up the chancel steps to the altar. Every day they came to the church. They had followed each step in its progress. They had a peculiar sense of achievement in it quite different from their feeling about Jalna. Jalna had beauty and some elegance. But here was a plain building with shiny, varnished pews, grey plaster walls and no stained-glass windows to mellow its light. Yet here was to be their spiritual home. Here was the link between them and the unknown forces of creation. Here their children would be baptized, their children married. Here, when their time came, would be read their own burial service. But this last was so distant, so misty in the mysterious future, that the thought of it gave them no pain.

The crimson carpet had put the final touch to the building, as a church. It was of excellent quality and had been expensive. But both felt that it was well worth the cost. The fact was, it made the church look holy. It was a glowing pathway from entrance to altar. When the foot touched it, calmness and peace stole upward into
the soul. The money for it had been sent by Philip’s sister, Augusta. This evening Adeline would sit down at her writing bureau and tell them just how imposing it looked.

The Dean had put his hand into his pocket and paid for the organ. It was not a pipe organ. No one would have expected that, but it was of a reliable make and guaranteed to have a sweet tone. It stood to one side of the chancel, the pulpit towering above it. Wilmott had agreed to be organist and was expected that very morning to try it. As for the pulpit, Adeline had paid for that. From the first she had wanted a substantial pulpit. “I don’t like to see the preacher popping up like a jack-in-the-box out of a little pulpit,” she had declared. “What he says will go down better if he mounts three steps to say it and is surrounded by massive carving. The same man who carved our newel post can do it and I’ll foot the bill.” There were a few who thought the pulpit was a little too ornate for the church but on the whole it was much admired.

Adeline took Philip by the hand. “Let us go,” she said, “and sit in our own pew and see what it feels like.”

She led him to the pew they had chosen, directly in front of the pulpit, and they seated themselves decorously but smilingly. The pulpit rose portentously before them, as though already overflowing with sabbatical wisdom.

“Confess now,” said Adeline, “I could not have done better in the way of a pulpit.”

“My one objection to it is that I am afraid Pink will feel himself so impressive in it that he will preach too long. He is already inclined that way.”

“Then I shall go to sleep and snore.”

They heard a step behind them and turning saw Wilmott coming down the aisle. He was carrying a large music book.

“Here I am!” he said. “Have you waited long?”

They had forgotten he was coming but agreed they had been waiting for some time.

“I have been to the Rectory,” said Wilmott, “and Mrs. Pink has given me a hymnbook. I’m rather sorry I promised to play this
organ. I don’t feel capable of playing church music properly. But I seem to be the only one willing to attempt it.”

“Kate Brent could have,” said Adeline, “but she is now a Catholic. Anyhow I like to see a man at the organ.”

“Play the Wedding March,” said Philip. “Let’s hear something lively.”

“I have not the music.” Wilmott seated himself at the organ, opened it and placed the hymnbook on the rack. He remarked — “I admire the red satin behind the fretwork. It’s a pretty organ.”

“Yes,” agreed Philip. “My brother-in-law donated it and my sister the carpet.”

“I know,” said Wilmott. “You are a generous family. Even if I had the money, the community would go churchless a long while before I should build one.”

“That’s not stinginess, James,” said Adeline. “It’s prejudice.”

“Yes. I’m not sure religion is good for people.”

“What could take its place?” asked Philip. “I’ll wager you have nothing to offer.”

“Life itself is good.”

“Come now, Wilmott, be sensible. A man can’t live by material things alone.”

“Then let him gaze at the stars.”

“The stars aren’t comfortable on a stormy night. Religion is.”

“You had better not let Mr. Pink hear you say such things,” put in Adeline, “or he’ll not allow you to play the organ.”

“He has heard me on many occasions.”

“And doesn’t mind?”

“Not a whit. He is a bland, dyed-in-the-wool Christian and he is convinced that everyone will eventually come round to his way of thinking.

“And so will you,” said Philip. “So will you.”

“Perhaps.” Wilmott pressed the pedals, touched the keys. He began to play a new hymn that only recently had been translated from the Latin. But Philip and Adeline knew the first verse and sang it through.

“O come, O come, Emmanuel
And ransom captive Israel.
That mourns in lonely exile here,
Until the Son of God appear.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, O Israel,”

Neither Philip nor Adeline considered how extraordinary were these words coming from the green heart of a Canadian woods. They sang them with gusto and at the end Philip exclaimed: —

“It is a capital organ,”

“I don’t see how you can tell,” said Wilmott drily, “singing as you were at the top of your voices.”

“Oh, James, you are a cross old thing!” cried Adeline, going to his side.

“Well, you seem to have a service in full swing,” came a voice from the door.

It was Dr. Ramsey. He entered and, after inspecting the new acquisitions, said — “Congratulate me. Lydia Busby and I are to be married.”

Adeline clapped her hands. “Splendid! I’ve seen it coming. Oh, I am glad!”

“A delightful girl,” said Philip. “I congratulate you most sincerely.”

Wilmott came forward and added his more guarded felicitations.

“It will be the first ceremony in the church,” said the doctor. “We want to be married without delay.”

“No,” said Philip. “My son’s christening is to be the first.”

“And we cannot have him christened,” added Adeline, “till my parents arrive from Ireland.”

Dr. Ramsey regarded the Whiteoaks truculently. “Do you mean to say that my marriage must be postponed to give way to your child’s christening?”

“I am sorry,” said Philip. “But I am afraid that is so.”

“Then you consider that you own this church?” exclaimed Dr. Ramsey, his colour mounting.

“Well, not exactly,” said Philip.

“I suppose,” said the doctor, “that Lydia and I can be married somewhere else. There is a church at Stead.”

“No need to get huffy,” said Philip.

“I’m not huffy. I’m simply astonished that I should be asked to postpone my wedding ceremony for the baptism of an infant.”

Adeline folded her arms across her breast and faced the doctor.

“I should think,” she said, “that as you brought the infant into the world, you would show a little consideration for him.”

Dr. Ramsey had nothing to say in reply to this.

Adeline continued — “And, if I know Lydia Busby, she will want time for her preparations and not to be rushed to the altar as though there were need for urgency.”

Again Dr. Ramsey could think of nothing to say.

As they stood staring at each other they little thought that her unborn son was to marry his unborn daughter and that these two were to become the parents of a future master of Jalna.

The embarrassing situation was pushed aside by the entrance of Conway, Sholto, and Mary, from the vestry. Sholto at once mounted the pulpit and, with a sanctimonious expression, intoned: —

“In the beginning God created the Courts.”

“Come down out of that, you young rascal,” said Philip.

But Sholto continued — “And God saw that the Courts were good. And later on God created the Whiteoaks. And the son of the Whiteoaks looked on the daughter of the Courts and he perceived that, though ill-favoured, she was lusty, and he took her to wed.”

Now Mr. Pink also entered from the vestry. He came up behind Sholto and lifted him bodily from the pulpit and deposited him on the floor.

“It is well for you, my boy,” he said, “that the church is not yet consecrated but, as it is, I must severely censure you for making light of the Holy Scriptures.”

“I was just telling him to stop it,” said Philip.

Adeline exclaimed, to cover her brother’s delinquency: —

“Oh, Mr. Pink, you should have come sooner and heard Philip and me singing a hymn!”

Coming to her aid Wilmott added — “The organ has an excellent tone, sir. Should you like to hear me play on it?”

In the vestry a carpenter began loudly to saw and, in the vestibule, another to hammer. Peace was restored.