’Duke Radford’s New Friend

Mr. Selincourt suffered but little ill effects from his accident.  He stayed in bed two days to ward off any danger of swamp fever, but on the third morning got up at his usual hour, and after breakfast had himself rowed across the river, and paid a visit to the store.  Early as it was, Katherine and Phil had already started for an Indian encampment on Ochre Lake, so Mr. Selincourt found only Miles in the store, and he was busy sweeping dead flies from the molasses traps, and spreading fresh molasses for the catching of another batch.

“Hullo, young man! is it you who pulled me out of the mud the other day?” he asked.

“No, sir,” replied Miles promptly; “I’m as heavy as Katherine, so not adapted for walking on soft spots.  It was Phil who put the rope round you, but Katherine pulled you out.”

“A plucky pair they were too, for it must have been difficult work.  Are they at home?” Mr. Selincourt asked, as he gazed round the store, and thought what a bare-looking place it was.

“No, they started for Ochre Lake a good time ago.  Where there is portage work it is easiest to get it done in the morning this hot weather.  Can I have the pleasure of showing you anything this morning, sir?” Miles asked, with his very best business manner, which always had its due effect on the Seal Cove people.

Mr. Selincourt laughed.  “I am afraid my wants would have to be moderate, there is so little left to buy,” he said, wondering if it were poverty on the part of the Radfords which kept the stock so low.

“We are not so nearly cleared out as you would think,” Miles answered, in a confidential tone.  “We always like the shelves to look thin at this time of the year; then when the first shipment comes to hand we bring all our surplus stock out of the cellar, and it sells nearly as fast as we can serve it out.”

“Well, that is one way of doing business; a shrewd way too,” remarked Mr. Selincourt, nodding his head.  “I shouldn’t wonder if you make a pile some day of your own; you look wideawake enough.  What are you going to be when you grow up?”

“A storekeeper; this store keeper, if Katherine can keep the business going until I’m old enough to take the work over,” Miles answered, with the same promptness as had arrested Mr. Selincourt’s attention at the first.

“It is a hard life for a girl, I should think,” he said, as he sat down on a sugar barrel and watched Miles finishing with the traps.

“Yes, it is very hard.  You see, there is so much tramping over portages, rowing up and down river, and all that sort of thing.  I could manage most of it with Phil’s help, only there is pricing the skins, the feathers, and the fish which we take in barter from the Indians.  They wouldn’t accept my prices, but would declare they were being cheated by the papoose;” and the boy threw so much scorn into his tone that Mr. Selincourt laughed aloud.

“How do you manage when the Indians come here to buy and your sister is away?” he asked.

“Oh, I just call Nellie, that is Mrs. Burton, you know!  She doesn’t know a thing about business, and is ignorant as a baby about the value of skins, but she is grown-up, so they believe what she says, only I have to tell her first.”

“Your father can’t attend to anything, then?” Mr. Selincourt enquired pitifully.  He had heard a little of ’Duke Radford’s affliction, and sympathized keenly with the children who had such a heavy weight of responsibility to carry.

Miles shook his head.  “Since his stroke, Father has not been able to do anything at all.  His memory is entirely gone, yet he is so pleased to see people, and he always seems happy and content.  Have you time to go and talk to him for a little while, sir?  He would like to see you, I know.”

Mr. Selincourt rose from his barrel with alacrity.  “Oh, yes!  I will pay him a little visit; in fact, I have nothing else to do for the next hour, for I promised Mary that I would not go wandering round in soft spots to-day.”

Miles opened the door of the kitchen and ushered the visitor in.  Mrs. Burton was making a batch of bread, and had to limit her welcome to cheery words and smiles; but the twins immediately claimed him as an old friend, rushing upon him with a freedom from shyness which was surprising, until one knew that they were never troubled with that complaint at home.

“Father, Mr. Selincourt has come to see you.  He is the new owner of the fleet, you know,” Mrs. Burton said, speaking in raised tones to a tall, worn man who sat in the sunshine by the open door, and smiled serenely at the pleasant world outside.

’Duke Radford was not deaf, but they always raised their voices when speaking to him, in order to attract his attention.  He seemed to live in a world apart, and it was only by touching him or shouting that he could be brought back to the realities of life.  At the sound of his daughter’s voice he looked round, and, seeing a stranger in the room, at once rose and came forward with outstretched hand.  “I am very glad to see you, sir,” he said, in courteous greeting.

Mr. Selincourt was so surprised that he could not hide it.  He had expected to see a miserable-looking invalid, with imbecile writ large all over him; instead of whom he was confronted by a dignified, courteous gentleman, whose infirmity was only hinted at by a certain languor of movement and wistfulness of expression.

“I am glad to see you looking so much better than I expected to find you,” Mr. Selincourt said, taking the proffered hand and shaking it warmly.

“Yes, I am getting stronger.  I have been ill, you know, and it has upset me in many ways; my mind is not what it was, and I cannot remember a great many things which it is very awkward to forget.  For instance, I cannot remember, sir, whether I have heard your name or seen your face before;” and as he spoke, ’Duke Radford looked up with wistful uncertainty into the face of the man whom years ago he had wronged so heavily.

“My name you have heard, I dare say, but I do not suppose you have seen me before, because I am an Englishman, and I have only been in Canada for a year,” Mr. Selincourt answered gently.

Mrs. Burton had left the room momentarily, or she might have said that her father was an Englishman also.  ’Duke Radford had probably forgotten the fact himself, and after a moment of silence, in which he seemed to be gathering up his scattered faculties, he asked: 

“Do you think you are going to like Canada, sir?”

“I like it immensely.  I intend settling in the country permanently.  I have nothing to hold me in England, nor anything which interests me enough to make me want to stay there.  But here there is so much to be done; the country is crying out for development, and I well, I think I want to have a hand in the doing of it,” Mr. Selincourt answered.

’Duke Radford nodded his head in complete understanding; something of his old vigour seemed to have returned to him, and for the moment the clouds were swept from his brain.

“Canada is a fine country;” he said.  “Even her waste places possess untold sources of wealth.  Take this place, for instance:  there are fish enough in the rivers and the bay to feed a multitude; there is timber enough to build a dozen towns, and construct a navy as well; yet it continues almost as solitary as when I came here, I can’t remember how many years ago.”

“It is a great pity; but that may be altered with time.  We shall see,” replied Mr. Selincourt, then plunged into talk about the resources of the immediate neighbourhood, the possibilities of vast coalfields underlying the forest lands, of minerals lurking in barren hillsides, and many other things.

’Duke Radford came out of his absorption and talked as he had not done for many months, and when the visitor rose to go, after a couple of hours’ sitting in the pleasant, homely kitchen, with the appetizing smell of new-baked bread perfuming the air, the invalid begged him to come again very soon.

“Indeed I will, if Mrs. Burton will let me; but if I have tired you with such a long talk she may refuse to allow me in,” Mr. Selincourt replied.

“Nellie won’t do that.  My children are very good to me, although it is very hard on them that I should be left a log on their hands like this.  But I hope you will come soon, for you have given me a very happy morning,” the invalid said; and rising to his feet he walked slowly into the sunshine, supporting himself on a stout stick, to watch his visitor get into the waiting boat and be rowed away to the opposite bank of the river.

When Katherine and Phil came down from Ochre Lake three hours later, the invalid was still out-of-doors, only now he was seated on a bank in the shade of a spreading spruce, while the twins played round him, building houses of fir cones, and laying out gardens in patterns of pine needles.

“Why, Father, it is pleasant to see you out-of-doors again, and I am sure the air will do you good!” Katherine exclaimed in pleased surprise, as she came down the portage path, laden with a great reed basket filled with ptarmigan eggs.

“Katherine, I have had such a nice morning!” he said with childish eagerness.  “Mr. Selincourt has been to see me, and I like him so very much.”

Katherine nearly dropped her basket of eggs, being so much astonished; then, pulling herself together with an effort, she managed to say in a natural tone, although her face was rather white:  “I am glad you liked him.  Did he stay long?”

“Yes, ever so long, and he is coming again soon.  He thinks of settling here, and building a house.  I am so glad, for I think I never met a man whom I liked better,” he replied.

“Then it is lucky that I pulled him out of the mud,” put in Phil, who was very much disposed to swagger about his share in rescuing Mr. Selincourt.  “But if he’d been a disagreeable animal, I might have been sorry that I had not left him there.”

Katherine stood in a dumb amazement at the miracle which had been wrought.  All these months she had been dreading the coming of Mr. Selincourt, because of its effect upon her father, and behold, it was the one thing which had brought him happiness!

“Did you pull him out of the mud?  What mud?” asked ’Duke Radford in an interested tone, whereupon Phil promptly dropped the bundle he was carrying and launched into a detailed account of the rescue of Mr. Selincourt from the muskeg.

But Katherine went on to the store with her head in a whirl; almost she was disposed to believe that dark story from her father’s past to be only a dream, or some conjured-up vision of a diseased fancy almost, but not quite.  Only too well she knew that it was the dread of Mr. Selincourt’s coming which had induced her father’s stroke, and now well, it was just the irony of fate, that what had been so terrible in perspective should bring such pleasure in reality.

Jervis Ferrars came in quite early that evening, and suggested that Katherine should go with him to Ochre Lake, as he had some business at the Indian encampment, and wanted a companion.

“But I have been to Ochre Lake once to-day; Phil and I went this morning.  I brought home a hundred eggs in one basket, and had to carry them over both portages myself,” she said, laughing.

“Never mind; another journey in the same direction won’t hurt you, because I will do the work,” he answered.  “I want to borrow your boat, don’t you see? and of course it lessens a little my burden of indebtedness if you are there too.”

“I shall also be useful in getting the boat over the portage,” laughed Katherine, then ran away to get ready.  There was really nothing to keep her at the store this evening, and so few pleasures came her way that it would have been foolish to refuse.

“Nellie, I am going to Ochre Lake with Mr. Ferrars.  Do you mind?” she asked, as she hurriedly shed her working frock and clothed herself anew.

“No, dear, of course I don’t.  Good-bye!  I hope you will have a pleasant time,” said Mrs. Burton, then kissed her sister affectionately.

Katherine was a little surprised.  Mrs. Burton was not given to over-much demonstration of feeling, and so the kiss was out of the ordinary.  But then the evening was out of the ordinary too.  As a rule she hurried along the portage path, laden with burdens as heavy as she could carry.  To-night she sauntered at a leisurely pace with no burdens at all; even the cares of the day were thrust into the background for the moment, and she was genuinely lighthearted and happy.  It was pleasant, too, to sit at ease while Jervis pulled the boat up river with long, swinging strokes that never suggested tired arms in even the remotest connection; and if they did not talk much, it was only because the river and the sunset seemed suggestive of silence.  They had passed the second portage, and waved a greeting to Mrs. M’Kree, who was sitting at ease in her garden while Astor lounged beside her.  Then Jervis began to talk about himself, which was unusual, the subject apparently having but little interest for him in a general way.

“I have been writing to my mother to-day.  It seems strange to think we shall have a post out from here once a month all the summer,” he remarked, rowing slower now, as if he were tired of violent exercise, and desired to take things easy.

“How glad your mother will be to get the letters!” exclaimed Katherine, wondering how the poor woman had borne the weary waiting of the past weeks.

“It has been hard on her, poor little Mother!” he said softly, then went on with a hardness in his tone that grated on the ears of the listener:  “Few women have had to know greater contrasts in life than my mother.  She was brought up in the purple, a maid to brush her hair and tie her shoestrings, but for the last six years she has lived in a four-roomed cottage, and has done the family washing.”

“Oh, how hard for her!” exclaimed Katherine.

“It was hard, poor Mother!” Jervis said, and his voice grew so tender that the listener understood the previous hardness must have been meant for someone else.  He was silent for some time after that, and, pulling slowly up the river, kept his eyes fixed on the water which was gliding past.

Katherine sat with her gaze fixed on the treetops, whilst her fancies were busy with the poor lady who had fallen from the luxury of having a lady’s maid to doing the work of a washerwoman.

“I was to have been a doctor,” Jervis said abruptly, taking up the talk just where he had dropped it.  “We were very poor, so I had worked my way on scholarships and that sort of thing.  I was very keen on study, for I meant to make a name for myself.  I believe I should have done too, but

He broke off suddenly, and, after a pause, Katherine ventured gently:  “Don’t you think it is the ‘buts’ which really make us live to some purpose?”

“At least they make a mighty difference in our outlook,” he admitted with a smile.  “The particular ‘but’ which stopped my medical studies, and drove me into the first situation where I could earn money was the death of my father, and the consequent cessation of the income which had been his allowance under his grandfather’s will.  We had been poor before; after that we were destitute.”

Katherine nodded sympathetically.  Her life had been hard, and there was plenty of rough work in it, but she had never been within seeing distance of destitution, and she had plenty of pity for those whose lives had been fuller of care than her own.

“I tried keeping near home first,” went on Jervis; “but it was of no use.  There was no room for me anywhere; the only thing I could get to do was a miserable clerkship at twelve shillings a week.  Just think of it!  Twelve shillings a week, and there were four of us to live!  I bore it for six months, and then I cleared out.  My next brother, who is four years younger, got work which brought in enough to buy his food, and I have managed to send home something to help to keep my mother and the youngest boy, who is still at school.”

“Perhaps the necessity to do your utmost has been very good for you,” Katherine ventured demurely.

“I think it has,” he answered with emphasis.  “At any rate, I don’t feel disposed to quarrel now with the destiny which has knocked me about the world, and brought me eventually to an anchorage like this.”

Katherine’s face flamed scarlet, to her intense mortification.  What would this man think of her, what must he think of her, if she changed colour at every word he said?

But Jervis did not appear to notice her confusion, for which she was devoutly thankful, and in a moment he went on talking:  “It is going to make a very great difference to me if Mr. Selincourt decides to spend money in developing this place.  The fisheries, properly worked, will yield a cent-per-cent interest on the outlay, and that is going to make a big difference to me, because I am not manager merely, but I have a share in the profits also.”

“A working partner,” suggested Katherine.

“Something of the kind,” he replied.  Then turning his head he saw that they were close to the Indian encampment, for long lines of fish were stretched in all directions, drying in the sun.

“The end of our journey,” he said lightly.  “Do you sit here in the boat and I will have my business finished in about ten minutes.”

Katherine’s gaze went to the treetops again, only now it was not trees and sky that she saw, but a rose-hued future of happiness stretching out before her.