Authors: Mazo de la Roche
Tags: #FIC045000 – FICTION / Sagas
Philip looked at him dubiously. He was afraid Wilmott had made a bad bargain. He liked him but was not quite sure that he wanted him for a neighbor. There was an uncertain quality in Wilmott. Also he had a way of assuming an intellectual intimacy with Adeline, as though they two looked on things from the same angle. But Philip liked him and his frank face lighted. He gave Wilmott a slap on the shoulder.
“Good man!” he said. “But I must bring Vaughan to see the log house before you pay the cash. He will know if it is worth it.”
“Nothing shall dissuade me,” said Wilmott. “It’s the sort of place I’ve been dreaming of.”
“What about the swamp?”
“The owner says it will grow onions.”
“Onions! What would you do with them?”
“Sell them.”
“My dear fellow, you’re in for a tumble if you bank on making money from onions.”
“The swamp is a haven for wild fowl. All varieties make their home there. Just come and see. “
“You had better help us choose a site for our house. I have the axemen engaged but haven’t decided where to put it.”
“Are you sure you aren’t lost?”
“Positive.” Philip once again consulted his compass. They moved on through the wood.
“I wish D’Arcy and Brent could see us,” said Wilmott. “I had a letter from D’Arcy the other day. They are in New York. It’s very amusing they say. Strange fashions — spittoons everywhere. Negroes in unbelievable clothes! They saw Fanny Kemble and think she overacts.” He turned to Adeline. “Have you seen Fanny Kemble?”
“No. What I enjoyed most in London was
The Bohemian Girl
. I declare I shall never forget that evening. It was heavenly.”
Philip shouted — “Here is the spot!”
He had pushed ahead and now awaited them in an open space. Perhaps in an earlier time some settler had chosen it as his dwelling, for great stumps showed where forest trees had been felled. But these were buried in the luxuriant foliage of the wild grape, or clothed in moss. The clearing had a friendly air. The sun poured into it and the trees which had been spared spread into extraordinary beauty. A tall young silver birch fluttered its satin leaves and its satin bark was flawless. As they drew near to it a flock of bluebirds rose from its midst, not in fright but rather in play, and flew skyward where their blueness soon was merged.
Adeline never had heard of the sentimental belief in the bluebird for happiness but she liked their looks, and cried: —
“Oh, the pretty things! They know the spot! We shall build here! I am so happy I could die!”
It was the day of fainting. She tried to faint to demonstrate her emotion but could not. She staggered a little.
“What’s the matter?” asked Philip.
“Can’t you see I’m fainting?”
“Nonsense,” he said, but he looked at her a little anxiously.
“Sit down here,” begged Wilmott. He led her to a low moss-grown stump.
She sat down, closing her eyes. Wilmott snatched off his hat and began fanning her.
“She’s not fainting,” said Philip. “Look at the colour in her lips.” She put her fingers over her lips and sighed. She felt a stirring beneath her. She sprang up. A large adder glided across the stump and into the grass. Adeline’s shriek might have been heard to Vaughanlands. The two men stared in horror.
“A snake!” she screamed. “A poisonous snake! There — in the grass!”
They found sticks and ran after it, beating the grass.
She was composed on their return.
“Did you kill it?” she asked.
“Yes,” answered Philip. “Want to see it?”
“I’d rather not.”
“It was a yard long,” said Wilmott, “and as thick as my arm.”
“How horrible!”
“Never mind,” said Philip. “We shall soon be rid of them. Vaughan told me there were a few about this place. When we have the undergrowth cleared there will be an end to them.”
“This is a superb site for your house,” said Wilmott. “That little rise is the perfect place. It should face south.” He seemed to have forgotten Adeline’s fright and paced up and down marking the size of the foundation.
Philip had gone off to the spring. Now he returned carrying a tin mug of water. He looked anxiously at Adeline, as he gave her the drink.
“I’m surprised at your making such a fuss,” he said, “after the snakes you’ve seen in India. The snakes here are harmless.”
She meekly drank the icy spring water.
“I had never sat on one before.” She shuddered.
Wilmott called out — “You need not worry about excavating. The soil is just right and the site well-drained. I should advise a basement for the kitchen and usual offices. It will be warm in winter and cool in summer. You must have a square hall, with drawing-room on one side and library and dining room on the other. A deep porch would look well.”
“He’ll be telling us next what to name the house,” said Philip.
Adeline rose.
“How do you feel?” he asked.
“Better. But I was almost fainting before the snake came. Why was I?”
“I forget.”
“Oh, yes — it was the bluebirds. They made me so happy.”
“You should try to restrain your emotions.”
“But they’re all so fresh and strong.”
“Bottle ’em up!”
“But they won’t keep.”
Wilmott called out — “Behind the main stairway you should have space for another good room. The house should be broad, substantial and hospitable-looking.”
“I shall see to that,” said Philip, testily.
“I recommend a third story. It makes the house seem more impressive, and if your family is large — ”
“It’s not going to be large.”
“Still I should have a third story.”
He came back to them. His thin face was alight.
“I am so hungry,” said Adeline. “Let us have our sandwiches.”
“Good,” said Philip. “Will you join us, Wilmott?”
“Are you sure you have enough for three? However you need not worry about me. One will be plenty.”
They sat down on the sun-warmed grass where one must crush tiny pink flowers, they grew so close. Philip unstrapped his lunch basket and took out sandwiches, small cakes, a leather-covered flask of wine and collapsible drinking cup.
“Do you remember our picnics in Quebec?” asked Wilmott.
“Oh, what fun we had!” exclaimed Adeline, her mouth full of chicken sandwich.
“With the Balestrier children all over the place!” said Philip. “If I can’t bring up my children to behave better I’ll eat my hat.”
“How is the charming little Augusta?” asked Wilmott.
“Being utterly spoilt by Mrs. Vaughan,” answered Philip. “However, she is forgetting French and learning to speak English.”
“Tell her I shall bring her a present. A doll — to take the place of the one stolen on board ship. Does she still miss her ayah?”
“No. She has forgotten her.”
There was a moment’s silence as their minds flew back to the funeral at sea. Then Wilmott said: —
“The mosquitoes are a pest here. I suffer tortures at night from the itching of old bites and the hideous buzzing as new bites are inflicted.”
“I am writing home,” said Philip, “for mosquito netting. We shall cover our beds with it when our house is built. The Vaughans seem quite reconciled to being eaten alive.”
“As a matter of fact,” said Adeline, “the mosquitoes pass by the Vaughans to feast on Philip.”
Philip picked up the flask of wine. “We have only one drinking cup,” he remarked. “I was going to give it to Adeline and myself drink from the flask. But she and I can use the one cup.”
“Give me the tin mug,” said Wilmott.
“Wherever did you find it, Philip?”
“By the spring. And there were footprints about. Vaughan tells me that there is a log hut on the property and that an old Scotsman, called Fiddling Jock, has taken up his abode there. Vaughan says he’s harmless.”
“How large is the hut?” asked Wilmott. “I might have lived there.”
Philip opened his eyes till they were a little prominent. “What about land?” he asked.
“True,” returned Wilmott. “I must have land.”
“Couldn’t we sell him fifty acres?” said Adeline, in a stage aside.
“Out of the heart of the property? Never.”
“Oh, I am quite satisfied with the place I have chosen. I shall live on berries and fish and wild fowl and read all the books I have been wanting to read.”
“Where will you get them?”
“I have brought them with me.”
The Whiteoaks stared. “I knew you had brought some books,” said Adeline, “for you lent me several, but I didn’t know you had enough to keep you going.”
“There is quite a respectable library in the town. Also D’Arcy is picking up some in New York. Quite rare ones but worth the price.”
For the hundredth time the Whiteoaks wondered about Wilmott’s financial status. At times he talked quite largely, at others as though he were a pauper. Now he asked: —
“What of the neighbourhood? Are there any interesting or intelligent people?”
“A good many,” said Philip. “David Vaughan to begin with. He and his wife gave a dinner party for us the other evening and we met the neighbors. A quite respectable and well-informed circle. There is a Mr. Lacey who has a son in the Navy; Mr. Pink, the clergyman; Dr. Ramsey, a rather cantankerous fellow but a man of character and, I believe, very capable; and half a dozen other families. We discussed the future of the Province. Their sincere hope is to keep it free of foreigners. They want to build up the population slowly but solidly out of sturdy British material. They want both freedom and integrity in the land. And I’ve pledged myself to this project. Vaughan contends that the United State is going to pay bitterly for opening its gates to old Europe. Well, after all, these people from Eastern and Southern Europe would as soon as not stick a knife into your back. Their religion is superstition. They’d do you in for a few pounds. Torture and cruelty are in their blood. I’ve lived a good many years in India and I’ve seen enough of treachery. Let’s go slow and sure. Let’s keep British.”
“
And
Irish,” added Adeline.
“I’m with you,” said Wilmott. “Here’s to the building of your house and this Province!” He raised the tin mug.
When they had drunk the toast Philip produced a leather cigar case and offered a cigar to Wilmott.
“This will keep off the mosquitoes.”
“Thanks. I haven’t smoked a cigar since the last one you gave me.”
Philip and Adeline were embarrassed. Wilmott was using his poverty-stricken tone. Perhaps he was conscious of this, for he added as he took the tip of his cigar: —
“I’m no smoker.”
“Well, I am,” said Philip, “and I can tell you that it irritates me not to be allowed to smoke in the house. Mrs. Vaughan won’t have it.”
“Doesn’t he smoke?”
“He has a pipe on the verandah after breakfast and at bedtime.”
Wilmott stared about him, with a look both reflective and wondering. He said — “I suppose these forests go on and on, right to the Arctic.”
“Yes. It gives one — a feeling.”
“For the grandeur of it, you mean?”
“Yes. And the stability. There ought to be enough timber for all time.”
“Not if the people go on hacking it down and burning it — just to get rid of it.”
Adeline rose and shook out her skirt. She said — “I want to walk about.”
“I’ll stay here,” said Wilmott. “You two go. I shall smoke and conjure up a suitable name for your house.”
“He’s too damned officious,” said Philip, when they were alone. “He’s planned our house to his satisfaction. Now he’s going to name it. Whatever name he chooses I’ll not have it!”
“Oh, Phil, don’t be silly!” She gave a skip of joy. She held up her heavy skirt and petticoat and danced across the flowery grass.
“Here will be our kitchen,” she chanted. “With a big fireplace and a brick floor! Here will be the pantries and the larder! Here
the servants’ quarters! A nice wee room for Patsy O’Flynn!”
Tucking up his coat tails and placing his hands on his hips, Philip danced to meet her.
“Here, Madam, is my wine cellar,” he declared, “well stocked, maturing at leisure!”
She clasped him in her arms and laid her face against his shoulder.
“Let’s live to be old — old,” she said. “So we may enjoy it — together — for years and years and years.”
“I promise.”
“And you must promise to let me die first.”
“Very well, dear, I promise.”
“What shall we name the place? If we don’t do it soon, it’s just as you say, Wilmott will do it for us.”
“I should like a name that has associations for me at home.”
“But I don’t want an English name.”
He stared, a little truculently.
“I should like,” she said, “a name which has associations for me. What about Bally— ”
He interrupted her. “I’m dashed if I can stomach an Irish name.”
She glared at him.
Wilmott’s tall figure was approaching. He was almost on the run. “I have it!” he cried.
“Have what?” asked Philip.
“A name for your place.”
They looked at him defensively.
“The name of your military station in India,” he went on. “You met there. You were married there. You will probably never be quite as happy again as you were then. It is a pretty name. It is striking. It is easy to remember. It is —”
“Jalna,” said Adeline, musingly.
“No,” said Philip. He looked defiantly at Wilmott.
“Don’t you like the name?”
“I like it well enough.”
“Do you like it, Mrs. Whiteoak?” Wilmott looked eagerly into
Adeline’s eyes. The pupils were reflecting the green of the forest. They looked mysterious.
“You took the word out of my mouth,” she said. “I was thinking — Jalna — Jalna — as hard as I could — when you called out.”
Philip’s face lighted. “Were you really? I confess that I like it — now I hear you say it. Jalna … yes, it’s pretty good. It’s a souvenir of my regiment. A seal on the past.”
“And a good omen for the future,” she added. “I’m glad I thought of it.”
Wilmott stood irresolute.
“It’s a damned good name,” said Philip. “It’s extraordinary you should think of it just before Wilmott did.”
“It came in a flash.
Jalna
, I said to myself! Then Mr. Wilmott came running with it in his mouth. But I said it first.”