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

by de la Roche, Mazo

  “I declare,” she said, “I have not had a decent meal since I left Quebec. I’m starving!”

  “You have come to a land of plenty,” said David Vaughan. He turned to Philip. “Do you like shooting?”

  “Nothing better.”

  “Well, you need scarcely leave your door to pick up a brace of these.” He indicated the pigeon pie which he now began to serve.

  “And the fishing?”

  David Vaughan laid down the fork and stared at him. “Believe it or not,” he said, “the sea salmon come right up through the lake and into our river. I caught a whopper right here on my own property less than a month ago.”

  “Well, well, do you hear that, Adeline?”

  “I do; we shall not starve, at any rate. How delicious this pie is!”

  “Will you have some of the lettuce?” asked Mrs. Vaughan. “We pride ourselves on it. We are the only people who grow it. We supply the neighborhood.”

  “What about the neighborhood?” asked Philip. “Pretty congenial, from what you wrote, Vaughan.”

  “A very respectable community. You’ll like them and they’ll like you. I can tell you everyone is excited by your coming and will be still more so after meeting you.” His eyes rested admiringly on Adeline.

  “I left good friends in Quebec,” she said.

  “Too damn French!” said Philip.

  “That’s what I felt,” said David Vaughan. “My aim is to keep this little settlement purely British. Indeed if I had my way, only the English, Scottish, and Welsh should be allowed to settle in any part of Canada.”

  “No Irish?” asked Adeline.

  Before he could reply, Philip broke in — “I warn you, my wife is straight from the Ould Sod.”

  “I should welcome just one Irish lady,” said Vaughan, “to be Queen of us all.”

  “How flowery the old boy is,” thought Robert. “I could not have said that. But she liked it.” He fixed his shy, impersonal gaze on Adeline, who was smiling at his father.

  David Vaughan was giving the history of the principal families of the neighbourhood. He would forget to eat till his wife reminded him. When, after the meal, they retired to the verandah, he brought out a map of the district which he had himself made, showing the course of the small rivers, the residences of the families he had described, the roads and forest. A thousand acres of richly timbered land, adjacent to his own property, was for sale and this he counselled Philip to buy. Nowhere would he find a better opportunity for establishing himself in a superior position in the Province. Nowhere would he find better land, better sport, within such easy reach of railway and town. Nowhere would he find more hospitable, kinder-hearted or better bred people. Nowhere would he and his family be more welcome.

  As he and Philip bent over the map spread on the table before them, the red light of the setting sun illumined their features. Adeline, in her bright tartan mantle, sat on one side with Mrs. Vaughan. Young Robert, perched on the verandah railing, only half-heard what the men were saying but strained his ears to hear Adeline’s voice, to him so exotic in its inflections. His shy, cool gaze studied the lines of her shoulder as she leant on the arm of her chair, the beauty of her sleek auburn head. He wondered if she was conscious of his presence. She seemed not to be, yet, when the cry of a whippoorwill broke with melancholy strangeness on the air, she turned quickly to him.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “A whippoorwill. There are hundreds about here.”

  “I’ve never before heard one! It’s lovely but it’s sad.”

  “This one is just the right distance away. They can be too noisy.”

  Again and again and again came the bird’s cry. Then after a moment’s silence it flew nearer and, in mournful haste, repeated the three notes as though it were a tragic message. Sunset had faded and a sombre dusk emanated as though palpably from the massive trees. The house stood in a grassy hollow.

  In their room, Philip remarked to Adeline: —

  “I shall not make the mistake of building our house in a hollow. Fifty years from now this place will be buried in greenery. If I cannot find a rise to build on I shall at least be out in the open.”

  “Is there an ‘out in the open,’” she wondered, peering through the window. “Trees — trees — there are trees everywhere. How man varieties did Colonel Vaughan say there are?”

  “I forget. But what I mean is, I shall make a large clearing for our house and it must be on the highest point on our land.”

  “I don’t like the thought of a large clearing. I like trees about. I like a park.”

  “You shall have a park with deer in it.”

  “How lovely! Where does this land lie? Am I looking out toward it?”

  “Yes. I think so.”

  She drew a deep breath. “Just fancy! I am breathing the air from our land! Over there is our land — the very spot our foundations will rise from! Will the house be stone?”

  “That depends on what material is to be had. For myself, I like a nice mellow brick. It looks warm-coloured among the trees. It has a cozy, hospitable look.”

  “I rather like the white wooden houses they have in Quebec villages.”

  “Too flimsy.”

  “They say not.”

  “I don’t like the looks of them. Don’t you want a nice mellow brick?”

  “If there is nothing better.”

  “What could be better?” he asked severely.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Then why raise objections?”

  “I wasn’t.”

  “You said you wanted wood.”

  “I said I like wood.”

  “But you don’t object to brick?”

  “Not in the least.… Philip” — she came and sat on his knee — “I have not seen you alone all day. I can’t believe we are actually here.”

  He pressed her close to his broad chest. “What a time we shall have, my sweet! We’re going to be happier than we’ve ever been and that’s saying a good deal, isn’t it? You look pale, Adeline.”

  She relaxed against him. “Oh, how tired I am!” she exclaimed. “Yet I am too excited for sleep. My body relaxes but my brain refuses.”

  He found her eyelids with his lips. “There, close your eyes. Now I command you. Keep them closed while I kiss each ten times.”

  But, as he spoke, he raised his head and listened. There came the rumple of wagon wheels and the loud barking of dogs.

  “They have arrived!” he exclaimed.

  She started up. “Nero and Maggie!” she cried. “And I forgot to tell the Vaughans about them! Did you?”

  “By Jove, no! Still, they are expecting a wagon with our boxes. I shall explain about the dog and the goat tomorrow. I wish you had left the damn goat in Quebec. Gussie does not need her milk now.”

  “Leave Maggie behind! And she wearing the dear little bell my own mother tied to her neck! Why, ’t would bring bad luck to us! What is one small goat anyhow? Surely there is room for her in this great place!”

  The rumbling of wagon wheels ceased but now came the snarls and yells of a dog fight. Men were shouting at them.

  “Their dogs are killing Nero!” she cried. “Oh, Philip, run! Quick! Quick! Save Nero!”

  “He can take care of himself.” But Philip hurried from the room. A small lamp still burned in the hall. Downstairs he found David Vaughan with a lighted lantern. They went together to the stable.

  Adeline stood by the window listening to the dreadful noise of the fight. Then silence fell. She began to undress. The silence was too deep. She wished Philip would return but she dreaded what he might have to report.

  It was some time before he came.

  “Well,” he said, “it was more sound and fury than bloodshed. But Vaughan’s bulldog and collie gave our Nero the worst of it. He had a torn ear and a bite on his forehead.”

  “Oh, the brutes!” she cried. “And was he able to do them no harm?”

  “He had his teeth into the collie’s paw
and there was blood on the bulldog but I’m afraid it was Nero’s.”

  “I do hope Mr. Vaughan will keep his dogs tied up.”

  “We can scarcely expect that. I must say he was very decent about it. He gave me a box stall for Nero for the present.”

  “And how is Maggie?”

  “Right as a trivet. Little bell tinkling and all.”

  Adeline began to cry. “This dog fight was the last straw,” she declared. “I shall not sleep tonight. Feel my heart.”

  He laid his hand on her chemise beneath the right breast. “My God,” she cried, “it’s not there!” In exasperation she snatched his hand and put it in the right place.

  “It beats no faster than usual,” he said. “And you obviously are panting to quicken it. Come, my dear, you are quite all right.”

  “I shan’t sleep tonight!”

  But in thirty minutes by the grandfather clock in the hall she was in County Meath with her brothers, though her head was pillowed on Philip’s shoulder.

  VIII

  THE LAND

  THIS MORNING IN June was perfect. It seemed that no exquisite detail had been forgotten to ensure that perfection. The turquoise sky arched above the woods, cloudless. The trees themselves stood grand and strong, not crowded as though in struggle for existence, but free to thrust out their roots, to extend their branches in pride. Through their rich foliage the sun poured down upon the dark loam and drew from it such a carpet of moss, fern, and wild flower that where was one to step without crushing something fragile and sweet?

  There was enough breeze to sway the branches so that in turn light shade and warm sunbeam fell on this variegated growth. The wild grapevine draped the trunk of an elm which towered so tall, before it sent out a branch, that it seemed to know nothing of what clung so lovingly to its base. A stump became the throne of a pale convolvulus that tossed up a fresh bloom each hour. There were patches of daintily formed moss into which one’s feet sank as into living plush. Then wintergreen spread its glossy mat. Trailing arbutus sent down a delicate root, sent up a waxen bell and pressed on, as though in haste to claim the land for its own. Butterflies flew not by one or two but in bright throngs, sometimes hanging like flowers on a branch, then moving swiftly away, stirred by some subtle but inexorable impulse. They rose above the treetops, beat their tiny wings against the azure of the sky, then sank, drawn down by the same invisible guide till they hung on the branch of the maple. The birds at this hour were mostly unseen, living their enthralling life, from the routine of which they never deviated, among the rich green foliage. But their song was heard in every part of the wood, from the clear pipe of the wild canary, the studied cadence of the oriole, to the deep note of the wood pigeon. As they flew from bough to bough the leaves fluttered and sometimes a pointed wing or a bright breast was revealed. And in their burrows mole, ground hog, fox, and rabbit reared their young, in complete certainty that theirs was the most important mission of all.

  Philip and Adeline were standing on their own land. Philip had a small hamper containing their lunch strapped to his shoulder. Two weeks had passed since their arrival. During that time they had inspected the property, made the necessary visits to government offices, paid the sum demanded, been given the deed with impressive red seals, and now could say — “The land is ours.”

  “It is a paradise,” cried Adeline, turning her head from side to side, “a perfect paradise, and it is ours!”

  It was the first time they had visited the place alone. Each previous time one of the Vaughans or a government agent had come with them. Always there had been boundaries or business of some sort to discuss. But now they were alone. There was no need to talk to the Vaughans, pleasant as they were. They could stand gazing in rapt attention at each new vista that opened up. They could explore like eager children, running here and there, shouting to each other to “Look! Look!” How Adeline deplored her long skirts and remembered her girlhood in Ireland when she would tuck them up and leave the agile legs free. Once, when she was wrestling with one of her brothers, he had torn the skirt clean off her and she had risen in her pantalettes. Oh, the bliss of it! She had leaped and run, higher and faster than any of them. She had been caught and given a whipping but she now recalled the incident with a grin.

  “We might be Adam and Eve,” said Philip. “We might be the only two people on earth. Upon my soul you’d think the land knew we owned it — it’s so smiling!”

  “Philip, my angel, you are a poet!”

  “No … but I do feel … well, I can’t explain … I know it sounds ridiculous.”

  “It isn’t ridiculous. It’s true! Everything has a different air this morning.”

  “Now you’re going to laugh.”

  “At what? Not at you being poetical, I promise.”

  “What I’m thinking is — we’ve got the key to all this … not just the land, you know. But everything.”

  “Yes. I understand. It’s like being born again.”

  “I say, Adeline — we’ve come to the ravine from a different angle. Look!”

  They stood, shoulder to shoulder, looking down into the green dusk where the stream narrowed and was half-hidden in wild honeysuckle and purple iris. Spotted lilies grew there and a pair of blue herons rose, their legs stiff. But Philip and Adeline could not descend the ravine because of the undergrowth. They could only glimpse the river, palely foaming about the great stones that had once rolled down the mossy steep into it.

  “Our house must be near the ravine,” she said. “I want to be able to walk across a velvety lawn, open a gate, a low broad gate, and make a path down to the stream’s edge.”

  “We will build a rustic bridge,” he said, “across the stream. A path on the far side would lead us back to Vaughanlands, I think.”

  “You are so good at directions! Now Vaughanlands seems to me in the opposite one.”

  He took out the compass which was attached to his watch chain, and consulted it.

  “I’m right!” he exclaimed triumphantly. “The Vaughans’ house is straight over there. A bridge across the stream and we should have a short cut to it.”

  “Shall we ever get all this undergrowth cleared? Good heavens, if one of the children wanders away we shall never find him!”

  “We are fortunate in its being a good hard-bush — I believe that’s the proper expression. There’s a great deal of maple, oak, white ash, hickory and so forth. A few strong axes swinging, a few days’ work, and your forest will look like a park.”

  “How much you know!” she cried, admiringly.

  “Well, Vaughan has told me a good deal in the past fortnight.”

  She tugged at his arm, “Come, let’s choose the site for the house!”

  “I have a spot in mind. If only I can find it! Vaughan approves of it too. It must be quite near. There’s a sort of natural clearing and a spring.”

  “Oh, if there’s anything I love, it’s a spring! I shall plant watercress about it and mint and honeysuckle!”

  “It is comparatively near the road, too. We must be near the road … Hello — here’s the devil entering our Eden!”

  They could see the tall thin figure of a man but he had drawn much nearer before they recognized him as Wilmott. He had remained at a hotel in the town to make inquiries for a suitable habitation for himself. Philip had been to see him when he visited the government offices and had told him of his purchase of a thousand acres. Wilmott had promised to come out to inspect it. He had cast aside the clothes of convention and now wore brown breeches tucked into top boots, a shirt open at the throat, and a broad-brimmed hat. He was a little self-conscious and asked, after greetings had been exchanged: —

  “How do you think I look?”

  “Like the devil,” said Philip.

  Wilmott was astonished. “Well, I thought I should dress appropriately.”

  “You’re not going to be a lumberjack, are you?”

  “No. But I shall have rough work to do and I must save the clothes I bro
ught with me. It will be some time before I can afford to buy new ones.”

  “I think you look charming,” said Adeline, “except for the side whiskers. They are incongruous.”

  He gave her an intent look. “Do you really dislike them?” he asked in a low tone. Philip had moved ahead.

  She looked at him boldly. “Yes. I do.”

  “They’ll come off tonight!”

  “How did you find us?” demanded Philip over his shoulder.

  “I engaged a man to drive me out. We stopped to ask the way of a man with a horse and buggy down the road a bit. He turned out to be your Patsy O’Flynn. I don’t know what was so funny about it but seeing him as he had looked in Galway and on board ship and in Quebec, and then seeing him sitting in a buggy by a rail fence, was just too much for me. I laughed and laughed. He must have thought I was just as funny for he laughed and laughed too.”

  Philip and Adeline had never seen Wilmott like this. He seemed hilarious.

  “I love the freedom of this country!” he exclaimed. “You are not going to get rid of me, you know. On the way here I discovered a little log house. The man who lives in it wants to move farther north. He wants to get away from so much civilization! Well, the long and short of it is, I’m going to buy his property — a highly superior log cabin and fifty acres, part of which is swamp. It is on the edge of a river and a bigger, better river than yours, the man tells me.”

  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.”