The suspicion dawned on her. Was the dove possibly a lady? Such a thought had never before entered her mind. Half-dressed she flew downstairs to her parents’ room. She tapped on the door, which was opened by Adeline wearing a new pink and white dressing gown. Philip was putting lather on his face.
“Mamma,” began Augusta, “do you think …”
“Gussie,” began Adeline, “do you think …” but she had the stronger voice, and continued — “do you think I should wear pink? Answer me.”
“No,” Gussie replied truthfully.
Adeline began at once to take off the dressing gown. “I knew it!” she cried. “Yet the man in the shop persuaded me! With my hair, he said, ’twould look elegant!”
“And so it does,” said Philip. “Gussie is only envious. Isn’t that so, Gussie?”
“Yes, Papa.” And she went on, “I really came to ask an important question.”
“Out with it,” said Philip, applying the razor to his chin.
“Do you think it possible,” Gussie went on, “that my dove may be a lady?” She swallowed and then got out, “It has a caller. He is most persistent.”
“Nothing is more probable,” said Philip. “Don’t let the fellow in.”
“Do you think he is what Mrs. Coveyduck calls a follower?” asked Gussie.
“I do,” said Philip.
“You are the silliest girl I’ve ever known,” said Adeline. “And the only thing for you to do is to turn your dove outdoors to join the wild birds. That’s what she wants.”
Augusta went slowly along the hall. Before she reached the stairs Adeline called, “Come back here, Gussie!” And when Augusta reached her mother’s bedroom, Adeline exclaimed, “Kiss me! Kiss me quick!”
The embrace took but a moment. Augusta was left with the feel of that warm vibrant body clasping her. There was little tenderness in the kiss. Rather it was the expression of a physical desire to dominate or, possibly, if Augusta had understood, a yearning to be protected from the world by the arms of her children.
That day the bargain was struck with Tite. It was to be kept secret for all time. Augusta’s ring, Nicholas’s watch, were handed over to Tite. The children now were owners of a good little sailing boat. Tite, during the next week, gave them lessons on how to sail it. Every afternoon they were late for tea. Wilmott had an attack of lumbago and was glad when Tite offered to go with the children to the summerhouse at Jalna and there give them lessons in mathematics. But the time was spent on the lake sailing the boat. In the solitary boathouse were stored the provisions for the voyage. Secretly these things had been carried there and hidden. So dense was the undergrowth of the woodland, so secret were the paths made by Tite and the children, that they were able to carry on their plans without hindrance or detection. Like members of forgotten tribes, they stole through the forest paths, carrying their booty.
“Shall we ever see home again?” Ernest asked one evening, when their preparations were completed.
“When we have made our fortunes,” said Nicholas grandly, “we’ll come home and bring presents for everybody.”
XXII
VOYAGE
“We should,” said Augusta, “eat a hearty breakfast to start us off well on our journey.”
The boys agreed, but when they sat down to table they had little appetite. Philip was just finishing his ham and eggs. He held up a sunburnt cheek to be kissed. It was extraordinary that he seemed to notice nothing odd about the children. Adeline was not yet out of bed.
“Well,” Philip said cheerfully, as the three seated themselves, “glad to be off to school, as usual?”
“Rather gladder than usual,” Augusta answered cryptically.
Philip seldom went to the trouble, the mental effort of analyzing the remarks made by his offspring, but this struck him as odd, worth looking into.
“Why?” he demanded.
Ernest took it on himself to answer. “Because,” he said, “we are to begin the study of Euclid.”
Philip stared. Then, “You little horrors!” he said.
This set Nicholas laughing. Philip was in great good humour and laughed with them. He now remarked to Ernest: “I see that your cold is better.”
“Yes,” Ernest answered proudly. “But I’m taking my red flannel neckband and my bottle of eucalyptus with me, in case I feel a cold coming on.”
Nicholas kicked him sharply under the table.
“Ouch!” exclaimed Ernest.
Philip said to Nicholas, “You may leave the table.”
Nicholas left and ran down the basement stairs to the kitchen where the smallest member of the family, seated in his high chair, was eating his porridge. Nicholas patted him on the back. “Goodbye,” he said. “I may not see you again till you’re grown-up.”
“Bye-bye!” Little Philip waved his spoon, then threw it on the floor.
Mrs. Coveyduck turned Nicholas out of the kitchen. “Do let your little brother be,” she said. “He was as good as gold till you came. You always bring trouble.”
The three adventurers gathered in the hall. They could hear the sewing machine humming briskly in the sitting room where the seamstress was already at work. Under cover of this they slipped out through the side door, ran along the path towards Wilmott’s cottage, but soon turned off into the secret path that led to the boathouse. The wood was lively with the music of singing birds.
As they ran through the mossy greenness Ernest saw that there were tears on Augusta’s cheeks.
“Why are you crying, Gussie?” he asked.
“Life is so sad.” Her eyes looked large and mournful.
The little boy was puzzled. “What do you mean, life is so sad, Gussie? You make me feel sad too.”
She could not answer.
“Perhaps we’d better stay at home a bit longer.”
Nicholas, in the forefront, said, “If you’re going to start whining, Ernest, you may go back.”
That had the desired effect. Ernest strode out manfully. When he cast a sidelong glance at Gussie tears were no longer to be seen. He slipped his hand into hers.
Tite was waiting. Their supplies were already stowed in the boat as it lay beside the little wharf.
“All is ready,” said Tite. “And it is high time you left because the boss is himself again. He expects to teach you this morning and has the books laid out in preparation. The next thing to happen will be that I shall be sent out to look for you. Ah, here is Annabelle. You had better be off before a search party is sent to look for you.”
“Shall you be one of the search party, Tite?” asked Augusta.
“I shall be the leader,” said Tite. A smile played over his thin lips.
“And where shall you lead them?” asked Nicholas.
“I shall lead them astray,” answered Tite.
“What fun!” said Ernest.
“It is evil.” Belle spoke up suddenly. “May de Lawd forgive us for what we are doin’. It’s evil we’re doin’.”
“Evil, my eye!” said Ernest, jumping up and down in his excitement.
These children were used to being waited on. They stood passive while Tite carefully arranged their supplies already in the sailing boat which lightly danced on the sun-bright wavelets, as though eager to be off. Each little wave hastened to the shore, eager to find something to play with, were it only a tiny shell or a blade of grass. A throng of silvery minnows which had been spawned that morning darted with newborn assurance in a sunny pool.
Now Tite gave a deferential hand to Augusta to assist her into the boat. On her wrist she carried the dove, tethered by a ribbon tied to its leg. For the first time Belle saw the dove. She cried loudly in her distress. “Oh, Missy, don’ take dat poor li’l bird. He don’ want to go out in a boat! It will sho’ly kill him.”
“He must not be allowed to mourn for me,” said Augusta.
“Leave him with me! I promise to care for him!” Annabelle burst into tears.
“You would advertise the fact,” said Tite,
“that you knew of the voyage. Don’t be a fool.” He gave a push to the boat. He said to Annabelle, “Come, make yourself useful and dry your tears.”
The two, side by side, pushed the boat. They ran out into the lake pushing with all their might. The dove sat quietly on Augusta’s wrist, staring out of its round jewel-like eyes. Ernest sat at the rudder. Nicholas controlled the sail. The boat lay lifeless except as it was pushed. Nicholas’s eyes were raised to the sail. Ernest’s hands gripped the tiller. Gussie and the dove sat motionless as though dreaming.
Presently a shudder passed through the boat. The sail gave a gentle sound as though speaking. Then all was alive. The boat began its dance on the wavelets. The sail tugged at the boy’s hand.
“They’re off! They’re off!” shouted Annabelle as though in jubilation, but soon she was in tears again, wringing her hands and wailing, “What will become of them!”
She was not the only one to regard the departure with concern. Nero now appeared, crashing through the underbrush, his eyes rolling. Bubbles from his shiny black nostrils showed how hard he breathed. He pawed his way to the boat’s side.
“He will upset us!” cried Gussie.
But Tite was close behind him. Up to his armpits Tite pursued Nero. He caught him by the collar. It seemed that Nero would choke to death as Tite dragged on his collar. Then out of the breezy sky a wind blew into the sail, swelling it, turning lazy movements into swift purposeful motion. Almost it took the children’s breath to see Tite and Nero left behind — two small figures struggling in the water — to see Belle wringing her hands far away.
“We’re off! We’re off!” shouted Nicholas.
“Goodbye to all!” sang out Augusta.
“I’m at the helm! I have my compass!” cried Ernest.
Even the dove flapped his wings and uttered noises of excitement.
The little boat was dancing on the blue-green waves that chattered and gurgled beneath her. Then there was the flapping noise of the sail that strained as though it would free itself from the mast. A flock of gulls hovered for a short while near them, screaming in greed as Augusta threw a piece of bread to them. But the children had not the lake to themselves. There in the distance was a large schooner. On it Augusta turned the spyglass that had been given her on her birthday by Mrs. Lacey. It had once belonged to Guy Lacey and next to the dove Augusta regarded it as her greatest treasure. Indeed, even more than the dove, it held the highest place in her affections. Now she held the spyglass to her eye, as the breeze blew back her long hair.
After a time the boathouse and the figures beside it were no more to be seen. The schooner was no more to be seen. The gulls were left behind. Ernest looked out on the vast expanse of the lake. “Do we go right across?” he asked a little fearfully.
“Right over to the American side,” answered Augusta.
Faster and faster moved the boat, as though straining to reach the very source of spring. The wind was favourable, the sun warm, the breeze cool. Augusta had emerged as the commander. There was new life, new authority in her. She had provisions for her crew. She knew where she was going. She was free. The two boys depended on her utterly. Nicholas felt that all the stories of adventure he had read had led to this greatest of all. Ernest was heart and soul with the joy of freedom — no more lessons — no more restraint.
“Gussie,” he said, with his eyes on the hamper, “I’m hungry.”
Nicholas laughed outright at the thought of the hamper packed with good things. “I’m starving,” he said.
Gussie lifted the clean white napkin from the pile of sandwiches and put one into each boy’s hand, gave each a mug of coffee.
“This is such fun,” said Ernest. “Why was Belle crying?”
XXIII
THE SEARCH
The morning was so fresh, so charged with Maytime vigour, so vibrating with the outpouring of a thousand songbirds, that Adeline could not help singing her favourite song. “‘I dreamt that I dwelt in marble halls,’” she sang in her clear, though not very tuneful soprano, “‘With vassals and serfs by my side.’”
She was dusting the contents of the cabinets of curios from India and was under the impression that she handled them with more delicacy and care than any maid could do. Yet when the dark figure of Titus Sharrow appeared in an open French window she was so startled that she dropped an exquisitely carved ivory monkey that fell with a small clatter to the floor. From appearing as a statuesque figure of dark foreboding, Tite instantly turned into one of lithe agility. He picked up the monkey and gazed at it with admiration before putting it into Adeline’s outstretched hand and giving her a profound bow. He said, in his best French style, “Your song was very beautiful, Madame. I am glad to have heard even a little of it.”
“You are a foolish boy,” she said, returning the monkey to the cabinet, but she was pleased by a compliment from this clever half-breed. There were not many to pay her compliments in this remote place.
She now gave him an enquiring glance, to which he gently replied: “I have been sent by my boss to enquire about your children.”
“My children?” She stared in astonishment.
“They have not come to us as usual for lessons this morning. My boss has recovered from his lumbago and is anxious to go on with the lessons. I too am anxious …” Tite spoke with such deliberation that Adeline was impatient.
“The young rascals,” she said, “they have loitered on the way. You will find them if you search.”
“I have searched, Madame. It is eleven o’clock. Even the dog Nero is anxious. He whines and rolls his eyes, as though he would tell something.”
“They are playing truant,” said Adeline.
She herself took the path to Wilmott’s cottage and was joined by Nero. With a businesslike air he led her along the path. She noticed that his curly black coat was damp. What a dog he was! In for a swim in the river at that hour — and he no longer young! But she enjoyed the walk and every now and again raised her voice and shouted the names of her children. “Gussie! Nick! Ernest!”
She found Wilmott sitting outside his door on a bench in the sun.
“Don’t get up.” She greeted him with gladness. “Oh, James, how splendid to see you well again! But you do look a bit peaky.” He was indeed a contrast to Adeline, whose health and vitality matched the spring morning. “These Canadian winters,” she said, “they leave one deflated.”
“The truth is,” said Wilmott, “that I am overfed. Since Annabelle’s coming my table has groaned beneath the richness of pastry and hot bread. I tell her she’s killing me with kindness, poor soul.”
“But you do like having her here, don’t you, James?”
“I hope I’m grateful,” he said.
“But why do you call her ‘poor soul?’”
Adeline had seated herself on the bench beside him. She had lowered her voice.
He whispered back, “I am sometimes afraid that Tite is not kind to her … I have heard her crying.”
“I will have a word with him,” said Adeline. “But now he is in search of the children. They’re playing truant.”
“Who can blame them on such a day?” sighed Wilmott.
“What are you longing to escape from?” laughed Adeline.
“Myself.”
“Ah, that’s the way people feel after lumbago. You will be quite different after another day or two.” She sprang up and went to the river’s edge. She cupped her hands about her lips and shouted, “Gussie! Nicholas! Ernest! Where are you? You’re going to catch it from your father when you come home!” Returning to Wilmott she said, “He really doesn’t know they’re playing truant.”
Strong and clear as was Adeline’s voice, no shout of hers reached the ears of the three runaways. By the time afternoon came and Philip returned from the farmlands, Adeline was very angry and not a little alarmed. Philip told her not to worry. The youngsters had gone on an exploring expedition, he said. The spring had got into their blood, he said. They would be home
before dark and by Jove he would warm the boys’ seats for them. Enquiry revealed that they had been given nothing in the way of a picnic by Mrs. Coveyduck. Surely something untoward had happened.
As evening fell Philip ordered Tite Sharrow to organize a search party. Tite knew every inch of the woodland along the river and much of the forest beyond. There was a full moon and the tranquil May evening was revealed in its mystery and enticement. Every tree wore its cloak of strangeness. The moonlight did not reveal the birds’ nests hidden in their boughs.
Philip went with the search party. It was strange to see the dark forms of the men, in seemingly grotesque attitudes, brought to life by the light of the lanterns they carried. Their talk was full of foreboding — of bears that had been seen in the neighbourhood — of the howl of wolves heard in the last winter. Philip’s great fear was the river that flowed down from distant hills, past Wilmott’s cottage, to lose itself in the lake. He told Wilmott of this fear but mentioned nothing of it to Adeline. She showed her mettle by joining the men of the neighbourhood in the search. They urged her to remain at home with other women for company, but she scorned to do this. “Me stay at home,” she cried, “while my three young ones are in danger! Not while I have a leg to stand on!” And use her two lithe legs to carry her about with the men, she did, and every now and again raised her voice and shouted her children’s names. Twice during the night the search party were given refreshments at one of the farms. When the moon had sunk there still were lights stirring in the darkness, voices calling.
The nights were short. At daybreak three men were gathered in the living room of Wilmott’s cottage making plans for the further search. These were Philip, Wilmott, and Tite Sharrow. Annabelle had brought them a tray heavy with ham sandwiches, freshly baked hot bread, and a huge pot of coffee. But the hot bread was burnt and the coffee such that Wilmott apologized for it. “The poor girl,” he said, “is at her wits’ end. She’s really ill from anxiety.”
The Jalna Saga – Deluxe Edition: All Sixteen Books of the Enduring Classic Series & The Biography of Mazo de la Roche Page 58
