The Jalna Saga – Deluxe Edition: All Sixteen Books of the Enduring Classic Series & The Biography of Mazo de la Roche (28 page)

“It is impossible,” said Philip, “for my wife to keep on the tune. But I’ll engage to make her sing, if the company demands it.”

“I demand it,” said Dr. Ramsey.

“What about it, Wilmott?” asked Philip. “Do you think you can keep Adeline to the tune?”

Wilmott rose with sudden alacrity.

“Come,” he said to Adeline, “we’ll show them what a really finished performance is.” He held out his hand to her.”

She allowed herself to be led to the piano but she gave Wilmott a look askance. She was a little mistrustful of him. However he sat down before the keyboard with an air of confidence. He knew the accompaniment by heart. He played the opening chords. But his first vocal note was a kind of discordant groan. He looked up at her in astonishment.

“Is anything wrong?” asked Colonel Vaughan.

“No, no,” said Adeline. She bent over Wilmott. “Are you going to shame us both,” she whispered, “or are you going to sing?”

“Going to sing,” he muttered.

Philip beat a tattoo with his heels. He would have liked to be a little rowdy, but was afraid of Mrs. Vaughan.

Wilmott struck the opening bars afresh. Then, abruptly he took his hands from the keys, crossed his arms on the music rack and laid his head on them. Mrs. Vaughan sprang up.

“Is Mr. Wilmott ill?” she asked.

“No,” answered Adeline, “not really ill, just a little faint.”

“I’ll get my smelling salts.” She hurried down from the room.

Philip came and looked down into that part of his friend’s face which was visible. Dr. Ramsey also bent over him.

“Are you aware what is wrong with him?” asked the doctor.

“Yes. I’ve been suspicious of him ever since dinner. We’d better get him out in the air before Mrs. Vaughan comes back.”

Philip turned to Adeline. “You and Daisy must go to Mrs. Vaughan and tell her we’ve taken Wilmott outside. Hadn’t you the wit to see that he was tipsy? You should not have attempted to sing with him.”

She stood abashed for once. Then she murmured — “He’s had such a day — the poor man!”

“You can tell me about that later.”

He and Dr. Ramsey got Wilmott to his feet and steered him across the room. The two young women went to find Mrs. Vaughan. Colonel Vaughan followed the other men. The rain was beating in on the verandah. He said: —

“You can’t take him out there.”

“It will do him good,” said the doctor.

They placed Wilmott in a rocking chair. It swayed with him so that his head rolled against his shoulder. Philip winked at the doctor.

“He looks pretty seedy, doesn’t he?”

Dr. Ramsey nodded grimly. “He’ll not go home tonight.”

Wilmott opened his eyes and looked at them. “I’m afraid I can’t sing,” he said.

“We’ll excuse you, old man,” said Philip. He went to the Colonel. “Do you think you could put him up for the night?” he asked apologetically.

Colonel Vaughan replied coldly — “Certainly. He may have Robert’s room. We must keep this from my wife. Her feelings would be outraged.”

“Upon my word,” said Philip to Adeline, as they were getting ready for bed, “I shall be glad when we are in our home. I like to be able to put a friend to bed when he needs it, without all this secrecy. Vaughan has thoroughly spoiled his wife. But why did that fool, Wilmott, choose this house, of all places, to get tight in?”

“He was so tired, poor man.”

Philip turned his full blue eyes on her. “Tired of what? Sitting in a punt fishing? Or teaching young Tite to make pothooks?”

“Ah, he has worries you will never know.”

“What worries?”

“I’m not at liberty to tell them.”

“Now, look here, Madam,” said Philip, “I don’t want you to be made the confidante for Wilmott’s past. If his past is such as to make him drink too much at the mere thought of it, let him keep it to himself or confide in another man.”

“True,” said Adeline mildly. “True.” Then with a long-drawn breath she added — “I feel ailing tonight. D’ye think I am perhaps going to have a miscarriage?” She crept into the deep feather bed.

Philip’s expression became one of concern but he said stoutly — “I think you are tired and a bit worried about Wilmott’s behaviour. What you need is a good night’s rest.” He drew the blankets snugly about her. “There now, isn’t that cozy? I’ll be beside you in a jiffy. Egad, listen to the rain! It’s coming down in a torrent

T
HE RAINS WERE
heavy in November. Often they were joined by winds, mostly from east and northeast. These swept the last of the leaves from the trees, leaving the conifers in dark possession of the woods. On the roads, wheels sank in the deep mud, carpenters were forced to wait for the material to work with but still the building of Jalna proceeded at a satisfactory speed. The workmen built themselves a log weather-proof shelter with bunks, and a stove was installed in the shed where they took their meals. They were healthy and, on the whole, jolly, for they had months of well-paid work ahead of them. Several of them played on mouth organs, one on a flute. Then there was Fiddling Jock who had more music in him than many a concert musician. There were the two French Canadians who could dance, and others had good voices for a song, so their evenings passed cheerfully and, on Saturday nights when they had had a good deal to drink, noisily. There were a few quite bloody fights among them.

The wind veered to the north, the wet weather turned to frosty brightness. There were snow flurries. Nero, the Newfoundland dog, grew a tremendously thick coat and bounded in riotous health over the estate which he considered to be his to guard. He knew
all the carpenters, masons, and bricklayers. He was hail fellow with the woodcutters but, to a stranger looking for work, he was fierce and formidable. The foreman fed him many a heaping tin plate of potatoes and pork in addition to the regular meal he had at Vaughanlands, so that he grew rather more stout than he should have been. He also devoured the bones of wild fowl which the men threw him. Some canine Providence must have had him in mind for, though he occasionally was very sick, it was only for a few minutes. Neither did splinters of bone pierce his vitals. He was robust, he was good-tempered, he was as happy as a lark. He was bounding. He was rough.

Adeline had contracted whooping cough from Augusta and coughed with frightening violence up to Christmas time. Indeed the cough never really left her till the following spring. Dr. Ramsey dosed her with flaxseed tea. Mrs. Vaughan gave her large quantities of honey and rum. Mr. Pink, the rector, brought her a bottle of Radway’s Ready Relief. Mrs. Lacey a bottle of Pine and Tar Syrup. Philip never went into town without returning with some new tablets or lozenges for her relief. These multiple remedies had little effect on her except to spoil her appetite. She consequently grew thin and, because of this, would have shown her condition of pregnancy more but for the way she laced. By means of long French stays and a wide crinoline she continued to look graceful and even elegant. It is true that Mrs. Vaughan counselled her otherwise. She would injure the health of the infant, Mrs. Vaughan said, but she sympathized with Adeline’s desire to conceal her state, especially with Robert coming home for his holidays. It would have been embarrassing indeed to have had a bulky Adeline about, with Robert and Daisy in the house. She was so kind to Adeline in these days that Adeline never forgot it.

The various cough medicines of which Gussie partook, along with her mother, had a worse effect on the little girl. She not only lost her appetite but could ill digest the little she did eat. Her eyes looked enormous with the dark rings about them, her lips had a bluish colour except after a bout of coughing when her whole
face would become almost purple. Nicholas on the other hand flourished like a weed. He weighed more than Gussie and, though he had not begun to walk, he crept everywhere with surprising strength and speed. He had a temper when things went wrong and would fill the house with his roars of rage. He slept like a top but woke at sunrise shouting and chuckling his pleasure in the new day. He was a pet with everyone and promised to be a spoilt and headstrong boy but he had great charm, and his smile could not be resisted by anyone in that house.

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.”