The Jalna Saga – Deluxe Edition: All Sixteen Books of the Enduring Classic Series & The Biography of Mazo de la Roche (504 page)

She cried till exhaustion calmed her. She lay quietly gazing at the sky between the gently moving leaves. It was all over for her, she thought. It had never begun and now it was over. As though from the window of a prison she looked down into sunny meadows at her sisters, walking with their lovers beside a swift flowing river. She wanted to cry out to them to come and rescue her, to spare her some part of their joy.

She saw Althea coming and lay smiling up at her.

“You’ll never guess,” she said, “who has been talking to me.”

“You’ve been crying,” said Althea sternly. “what made you cry?”

“Just the sheer joy of being alive. Don’t you ever feel that way?”

“Yes. To cry a little but not that way. Your eyes are all red and swollen. And your lips — oh, Gem, you shouldn’t go on like that!”

“It was partly what I found out from him that made me cry.”

“From whom?”

“Finch Whiteoak.”

“Was he here?”

“Yes … oh, Althea —” she raised her wet eyes to her sister’s — “he loves you! I’m sure he does! when he says your name his whole face changes. When I told him you had made a sketch of his head, you should have seen how his eyes lighted. You know those long dreamy eyes of his.”

“You told him I made a sketch of him! Very well, Gem, it’s the last drawing of mine you’ll ever see!”

“Nonsense. Why not let him see that you care for him? You know you do.”

“I wish I could make you understand that I care for no one — in that way — and never shall.”

“But why? You’re so beautiful.”

“The whole idea is repulsive to me … I am my own and I can belong to no one.”

“But you belong to Molly and Garda and me. I don’t know anyone who belongs more to those they love.”

“Gem, you’re being just stupid. You know what I mean. Finch Whiteoak is no more to me than Mr. Clapperton. Do you know he has just brought us some strawberries, and practically asked himself to tea this afternoon? You and Garda can entertain him. I’ll not be there.”

“Of all the impossible people I have ever known, you are the most. Now here’s a rich man and not old, coming with an offering of strawberries and to drink tea, and you say you won’t see him!”

“I dislike him.”

“But why? He’s so kind.”

“He wants to change everything. He can’t let things alone. He calls himself an idealist but he’s just stupid.”

When Eugene Clapperton came to the fox farm that afternoon, Althea did remain hidden in her room. Free from her restraining presence, the two younger girls reached an undreamed of state of intimacy with the new neighbour. He made wide gestures with his hands as he told them of his plans for a perfect village — a village surrounded by trees, with no ugliness anywhere. It would be impossible to get more than four or five small houses built before the end of the war. Two were already well on the way to completion. Eugene Clapperton invited the sisters to come to inspect it and they accepted the invitation.

His attitude toward Gemmel had a gentle fatherliness in it that made her free and bold with him, like a spoilt child. It was well for her that Althea was not present to see her.

Althea refused to go to see the proposed village of Clappertown, as he already called it, but he came in his own car and carried off Gemmel and Garda.

“Oh, Gem,” Garda had exclaimed, “are you going to stop tittivating? One would think you were going to a party.”

With one of her swift movements, Gemmel turned from her survey of herself in the looking glass.

“Do I look pretty?” she asked.

“Oh, pretty enough. But what does it matter! Going off to visit a middle-aged man!”

“It’s a party to me and I will make the most of it. I wonder if Sidney will be there.”

Garda’s rosy cheeks became rosier.

“I don’t expect so. He is awfully bored when Mr. Clapperton gets on the subject of his village. He says there is nothing idealistic about it — that it’s just a money-making scheme.”

“Then he ought to be pleased with it, for he’s always talking about money.”

“He hates cant.”

Mr. Clapperton took the girls to that part of the estate where the two cottages were nearing completion. They were indeed pretty, though rather too close together and rather too much alike. Sidney Swift appeared out of one of them and led Garda inside to inspect it. The older man who had got out of the car, now returned to it and sat down in the seat beside Gemmel.

“May I call you Gem?” he asked. “I must say I like this new fashion of familiarity. Of course, I’m very much older than you.”

Gemmel thought wildly, “He is in love with me! Oh, help, help — what shall I do?”

But she said composedly, “I should like to be called Gem, by you.”

“Splendid,” he said, and he laid his hand on her knee. He looked deeply thoughtful.

She looked at his hand, longing to shake it off. It was a forceful hand, with short sandy hairs across the back of it. His fingers pressed her knee. “You know,” he said. “I’m worried about these poor little limbs of yours.”

An electric shock went through her. How dare he! Oh, how dare he! She flung off his hand and turned a blazing face on him.

“I don’t want anybody’s pity,” she said.

His eyes filled with tears. “Don’t be annoyed with me. But I think it’s such a crying shame you can’t run about like other girls and I’m wondering if something can be done about it.”

“Done about it!” she repeated, in a tense voice. “what do you mean done about it?”

“Well, there are very fine surgeons in this country,” he said. “They do miraculous things. I’d like to know how long it is since you consulted a first-rate doctor.”

Her heart was pounding. “I can’t remember,” she stammered. “After I had the fall, when I was a baby, they took me to one of the best doctors. My spine was injured, he said, and I’d always be a cripple. My mother died when I was very young and my stepmother just accepted what my father told her. He was a dear man but he drank a good deal and he didn’t bother much about us children. He wasn’t fussy, you know.”

“Fussy!” repeated Mr. Clapperton, on a note of contempt. “
Fussy!
If you’d been
my
daughter I’d have been scouring the earth to find a cure for you.” He struck one clenched hand into the palm of the other. “And I’ll see to it that you have the opinion of the best specialist in this country — if you’ll agree. Think of the years that have passed since your accident and of the advance in science in that time! why — there may be hope for you, my dear little girl. Will you let me help you? I mean, find out who the best man is and take you to him?”

A throbbing was set free on the air, like the strong beat of a perfect heart. The movement of the trees was the weaving of banners of hope.

“Oh, I don’t know what to say,” she stammered, her nerves quivering in fear.

“Just say you’ll let me help you. That’s all I ask.”

“But it frightens me. The thought of an operation.”

“No, no, you mustn’t say that. There is nothing to be afraid of. Just think what it would be like to run about and have fun like other girls.”

“It would be heavenly.”

“Think what it would mean to your sisters. You would have a grand time together.”

“We couldn’t afford it. It would cost too much.”

“Don’t worry about expense. Leave all that to me.”

He spoke with benign indifference to cost. Again he patted her knee. She became calm. She would do what he wished. She would trust him.

“Don’t you worry about the expense,” he repeated. “I’m not the man to do things by halves. You know I’m an idealist, a dreamer. I dream of a perfect village, out here in the woods, and I’m going to build it. I dream of a perfect girl and I’m going to do what I can about that. My only fear is that I may have raised hopes that can’t be fulfilled. That would be dreadful.”

She gave a little excited laugh. “Now that you’ve roused hope in me I don’t believe I shall ever give up hoping. Oh, Mr. Clapperton, how soon can we go to see a specialist? what have I done to deserve so much from you? whatever will my sisters say!”

ADELINE AND THE ORGAN

A
DELINE SAW HER
trunk being lifted safely off the baggage car and out on the platform. She hastened along the platform toward it, her suitcase bumping against her legs, her tennis racket and a large paper parcel gripped tightly under one arm. Wright came running after her, and the station master followed in leisurely fashion. She was the only passenger to alight from the train.

Wright caught up with her and touched his cap deferentially, but his tone was jocular as he said, “It’s about time you came home.”

“Oh, Wright,” she gasped. “Am I actually here? Oh, my goodness, what heaven!” She laughed up at him, her eyes shining.

For an instant he was taken aback by her beauty. She’d been pretty, right enough, when she’d been home for the Easter holidays, but now — what had come over her? It was as though a shining veil, a radiance, had descended on her. There was a finish to her, a polish, a quivering first bloom that made Wright scratch his head and stare, that made the station master stare too when he came up.

“I was just telling this young lady,” said Wright, “that it’s high time she came home. It’s pretty tough on me running the place without her.”

“I guess you don’t like goin’ away to school,” said the station master, taking the check for her trunk and gazing down into her face.

“It’s a nice enough school,” she returned, “but when you know that you’re needed at home it makes you restless.”

Wright winked at the station master. “Her and me,” he said, “have run the stables together, since the boss went away.”

“So I’ve heard,” said the station master, and he gave Wright a look appreciative of Adeline’s beauty.

“I hope you won’t mind riding home in the wagon,” said Wright. “I had to come to the mill for feed and there’s no sense in wasting gasoline.”

“I’m glad it’s the wagon,” she returned. She went to the great dappled-grey team and patted an iron flank. Two pairs of liquid dark eyes looked at her in benign recognition.

Wright placed her belongings beside the bulging meal-dusty bags, helped her to the seat and mounted beside her. He turned the team and they jogged on to the tree-shaded country road, where the sunlight fell through the dark flutter of the leaves.

Adeline looked from side to side, from the backs of the jogging horses to Wright’s face, and she felt an extraordinary exaltation. She pulled off her hat to let the breeze cool her head and exclaimed:

“How heavenly! How’s everything been going, Wright?”

“Not too bad,” he returned. “Not too bad. I suppose you’ve heard about the boss.”

She turned a startled face on him. “Has anything happened to my father?”

“Nothing to worry about, I guess. He’s had an accident. That’s all. He was going somewheres in a jeep and it ran into a hole and he was thrown out on his head. He was in hospital but they say he’ll soon be home. Perhaps I shouldn’t have told you.”

“Are you sure he wasn’t severely hurt?”

“Yes. He sent the cable himself.”

She drew a deep sigh of relief. “Oh, Wright, won’t it be marvellous when he’s home again?”

“I’ll say it will.”

“You know, it’s over four years since I saw him.”

“Yeh. I bet you’ll hardly know him.”

She gave Wright an indignant look. “I’d know him if he was in the middle of a whole army. There’s no one a bit like him.”

“Well, I bet he won’t know you.”

“Of course he will.”

“You was a little child when he left. Now you’re — well, you’ve changed a lot.”

“I’ve grown a lot, I know — and got better-looking, I hope. My nose used to be too large for a child’s face, Uncle Ernest said.”

“It’s just right now.” Again the man studied her, saw how the quick blood moved under the delicate skin, how one movement of the lips would change the expression of the whole face, from dark to bright, from firm to gentle. Now he said, in a confidential tone:

“I’ve seen a two-year-old I’d give my eye teeth to buy. Oh, miss, I wish we could lay hands on two hundred dollars. That’s all the farmer is asking for him. He has no idea of what’s in him. I can tell you, he has the makings of one of the finest jumpers in the country, or I’m no judge of horse flesh.”

“You’re a judge of that, if anyone is,” said Adeline. “Oh, I wish I could see him!”

“You can. I’ll take you there tomorrow. He’s nothing to look at, in the ordinary way. He spent last winter outdoors and he’s grown a great rough coat. He’s so thin his back looks hollow. Unless you know a good deal about the formation of a horse, you wouldn’t see any promise in him. But if I had him home to feed up and to care for properly for the next year we’d have a winner or my name’s not Bob Wright.”

“Oh, if only Daddy were home!”

“Yes. But he ain’t, and this farmer wants to sell now. I was wondering if you could get your Uncle Finch to lend us the money.”

“I’ll try but I hear his money is gone.”

“Then there’s your two old uncles. A hundred dollars apiece wouldn’t mean much to them.”

“It hurts them terribly to part with money, I’ve heard.”

“You hear a good deal, don’t you?” he grinned.

“Well, don’t you?”

“Sure, I do ... What about young Mr. Maurice? He’s supposed to be rich.”

“He doesn’t get anything but an allowance till he’s twenty-one. Besides, he doesn’t like horses.”

“I wish you and me could go shares in the colt. But I have only a hundred dollars saved up. If only you could lay your hands on another hundred, we could buy him tomorrow and we’d never regret it, I’ll swear to that.”

“I have just sixty cents,” she said ruefully.

“Well, that won’t go far. Anyhow, you might see what you can do with them uncles of yours.”

“Have you talked to Uncle Piers about it?”

“Yes, and it’s no good. He says this is no time to go in for show horses. But I know better. War or no war this colt is worth five times what’s being asked for him.”

“Gosh, I’m dying to see him. Is the farmer an old man?”

“No. Sort of young. He got married just about a year ago. He’s fixing his place up. That’s why he is anxious for cash.”