L I B RARY OF THE U N IVER.SITY Of ILLINOIS 823) 5h592i Y.I Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2010 with funding from University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign http://www.archive.org/details/ifmenwerewise01shew /k.^t'^ Ac^'O /^-^Z Ac, A'-iSi^ IF MEN WERE WISE. IF MEN WERE WISE. CHAPTER I, WANNECK, or Swan-neck— so called from a fancied resemblance in the i'' bend of the lake at this point to the curve of J a swan's neck — was a settlement consisting ^ of less than a dozen log-houses, all built '-7 ;^retty closely together, as if for companlon- ^ ship in that wild and lonely region. ^ The settlers were all men of small capital, ^^ho had embraced the Government offer of , land, at almost nominal price, to those whose ^courage was equal to the task of clearing § VOL. I. T IF MEN WERE WISE. the primeval forest, and whose means were sufficient to await the result. The first party of emigrants who arrived naturally regarded themselves as pioneers. They were, consequently, not a little surprised to find one solitary man settled down there already, with all the evidences of long residence around him. This man had only cleared his *' lot " sufficiently to allow of a house being built. A strong, compact little log-house it was, and ''beautiful for situation." Illimitable forest enclosed It behind and on either side. The front was open to the lovely lake, with its wooded islands and rocky inlets, surrounded by the ''intermingled pomp of vale and hill ; " the whole being engirt and over- shadowed by the mountains, their bleak scarped summits and rugged pine - clad slopes forming an august background to the fair scene. His boat and canoe were drawn up upon IF MEN WERE WISE. the shingly margin. A large dog ran to and fro. Birds were hung about in wicker cages. Above the doorway, painted in red and black old English characters, ran the legend, ^' Le chateau d'un pauvre Diable!' Thus was he found, and there any day he might be seen, this pauvre diable who exercised the minds and stirred the curiosity of the newly arrived '* homesteaders." A strong sinewy man of thirty or so was he. Pleasant to look upon, and friendly in speech, he had the manner and bearing of a gentle- man, the flavour of the Old World still clinging to him amid his wild surroundings. All that jocundi spring and bounteous summer the axe and hammer were never silent in Swanneck. Men wrought from sun- o rise until twilight ushered in swift darkness, all shaping and perfecting the habitations henceforth to become home, and wrestling with nature in her most savage form. From one mighty overthrow she should arise, re- IF MEN WERE WISE. cast in a softer mould, to be wooed and won for themselves, to their souls' peace and bodies' comfort The pativi^e diable, who delved not and toiled not, but lived as the lilies of the field, looked on, his sympathetic interest tempered by a fond regret. His own lot was secure to him. They could not touch the broad belt of sighing pine trees which encircled his dwelling. But they could hack and hew until daylight flooded those dim forest aisles where not a footfall could be heard on the soft springy earth. They could level those fair '' upland lawns," and grow the corn of commerce thereon. Above all, they could utilize and vulgarize those lovely islands in the lake, where — in a stillness that penetrated to the very soul, with the moonlight silvering the mossy crag above his head, and throwing a pearly splendour across the scintillating water — he had lain with his gun beside him, unable to use it, to IF MEN WERE WISE. disturb that holy serenity by its report and echo, or to deal death among- the wild shy creatures of the wilderness, secure in their tranquil solitudes. He came and went, watching the work go forward without remark, advice, or criticism. He had not w^anted these neighbours to disturb his seclusion, but since they had come and must stay, he opened his heart to receive them, and philosophically made the best of a bad bargain ; while the more they saw of him and his manner of life, the more they regarded him with suspicion. Among half a dozen men there is always one man who forges ahead to assume the place of leader, keeping it by his dominant will, whether such arrangement is agreeable to his fellows or not. Such a man in Swanneck was McFarlane, a raw-boned Scotchman, whose hair and freckled face were the colour of hay, and whose eyes were the colour of his freckles. IF MEN WERE WISE. He wore a fringe of beard, but shaved around his mouth, as if to show that chiselled feature, which looked like a line cut in wood. He had a keen eye to the main chance ; a hatred of waste, want of method, or levity. A methodical, sober-minded, careful body was he, who could not bear that his own soul should go to waste, and was religious accord- ingly, digging about and fertilizing the roots of his spiritual life, that in due season it might bring forth fruits having marketable value when the profitable chafferings of this life were ended with him. In the second year of his settlement at Swanneck, it was borne in upon him that the rising generation of young Swanneckers were like to be a sad race of runagates, and he began to talk impressively of some way of educating them. Long before this his soul had been vexed within him by want of what he called the " Lord s ordinances," and every one's soul had been grieved IF MEN WERE WISE, who had been compelled to listen. His proposal was that a minister should be brought from some of the towns eastward, his stipend to be made up among them, partly in money and partly in kind. But when he came to canvass the settlers, he encountered much opposition. He was a Presbyterian himself, and firmly believed all other sects were more or less contaminated by impure doctrine. His neighbour Fanshawe, a staunch churchman, utterly disdained to nail his flag to the Westminster Confession. In an access of Episcopalian fury, he even declared his willingness to see himself damned rather than bring another Presbyterian prater into the place — an evidence of his want of sympathy with " that stream of tendency, not our own, which makes for righteousness." The Morgans and Penrhyns were Metho- dists. Morgan, indeed, had done a little exhortation of the itinerant sort at home in IF MEN WERE WISE. Wales ; and, albeit a modest man in private life, in public could '' engage in prayer " with astonishing power. Perhaps it was the presence of such gifts in himself that made him look coldly upon McFarlane's proposal. Brennan and Duffy, two young Ulstermen who farmed their lot between them, were both Presbyterians and hot Orangemen ; but, their religion being political rather than spiritual, they were useless as supporters. Eugene Bord, who '' ran the store," was a French Canadian and a Catholic. A good-humoured man was he, and heard attentively all McFarlane had to say, but applied the thumb and outstretched fingers of his hand to his nose when he was gone. So the minister never came. Still McFar- lane was a man whom opposition merely stimulated. His first failure only made him more determined to carry his point in the second undertaking. Like most of his countrymen, he had a great belief in the IF MEN WERE WISE. necessity for education — a belief which may contribute in no small degree to their success in life. Accordingly, by keeping the subject to the front, a one-roomed log-hut was built and dignified by the name of ''school-house." Then in the spring, having occasion to go down to New Westminster on business of his own, McFarlane was deputed to bring back with him the new '' schoolmarm." Greatly to his satisfaction, he found the very thing he wanted. A newly arrived young Englishwoman was sojourning with friends of his own — the Reverend David Mclntyre and his wife — good solid Scotch folks, who could warrant their yoMxvg protdgde as thoroughly steady, competent, and reliable. '' We know her history, and shall be only too glad if we can help her," they said ; and an agreement was quickly concluded. The day on which McFarlane arrived with the new teacher — or rather the day lO IF. MEN WERE WISE. following — was a red-letter day in the annals of Swanneck. It was the first Sunday in April, and all nature seemed to have put on its brightest smile to welcome Mary Ford. For some time past the little school-house had been used as a place of worship. Hymns were sung and prayers offered ; but every- thing in the way of homily or exhortation was by common consent excluded. The only one who had held aloof from these services was Lawrence Wrayburn, the soli- tary man in the chateau by the lake. He was consequently reputed to be a "■ free- thinker;" as the settlement now prided itself on its piety, and approved not such laxity. On this calm day of cloudless skies and vernal breezes, all Swanneck, prinked in its very best, turned out to the afternoon service, full of curiosity to see the brand-new harmonium, and the educational exotic the IF MEN WERE WISE. II indomitable McFarlane had transplanted to the wilderness. Miss Ford, who had given her age as twenty-five, was a slim young woman of middle height, with rather more than the average share of good looks. Her features were regular ; she had expressive eyes, and an abundance of fair hair. But all these advantages were more than neutralized by the extreme paleness and undue gravity of her face. Ill health or sorrow had faded her prematurely. She was pensive and interesting, but not beautiful. Not a sug- gestion of nervousness ruffled her quiet dignity, or disturbed her rather cold serenity. She bore with perfect composure the raking gaze of the small congregation. When the hymn was given out, she rose quietly from her place beside Mrs. McFarlane, and seated herself at the new harmonium. The hymn was the well-known '' Hark, my soul ! it is the Lord." When the rough 12 IF MEN WERE WISE. voices of the men joined the shrill, attenuated notes of the women, and both chimed in halt- ingly with the humming drone of the har- m.onium, Mary thought she had never heard so unmelodious a performance. It was use- less to try and pull them together. Accus- tomed to lead themselves, they could not follow her lead, and the results were perfectly excruciating. Yet, to any one taking a less superficial view, there w^as a touch of pathos, and even of sublimity, in the unpretentious ritual of this humble band, who had sunk their paltry sectarian differences to unite in acknowledg- ing the God who made them, and offer their simple worship. This was the view taken by one who stood at the end of the room, and who presently struck in with a clear and powerful baritone, its tutored and harmonious tones guiding and compelling the other waverino: voices. One or two, lookinof round, saw that it was the free-thinker Wrayburn, IF MEN WERE WISE. Standing without a book, and evidently sing- ing from memory. As the music ended, ]\Iary Ford turned her sedate glance in his direction. After twelve hours' residence, she, believing she had come to the end of all Swanneck had to offer, took fresh courage as her weary eyes noted the small oasis of superiority his appearance presented in this desert of laborious industry. After service came the grand ceremony of presentation, when every man, woman, and child came forward to be introduced to Miss Ford. The idle spirit of scornful curiosity had led Lawrence Wrayburn thither to take a satirical survey of McFarlane's latest fad. Having surveyed her and seen what manner of woman she was, he felt conscious of a certain shame and disinclination to wait for an introduction. But, as he turned to pass out, it occurred to him that it would look 14 IF MEN WERE WISE. uncourteous to shirk making her acquaint- ance, and be the only one in Swanneck who failed to give her a respectful greeting. So he, in his turn, was presented, shaking hands as the others did, and offering a few conven- tional words of welcome. CHAPTER II. 1^1 RAD U ALLY the little congregation ' melted away. Only McFarlane re- mained to put away books, shut windows, and lock the door. Wrayburn, who had lingered to examine the new harmonium, at length sat down and began to play '' I know that my Redeemer liveth " with an accurate memory, but with hands that, from want of practice, had lost some of their precision. McFarlane drew near, key in hand. " Aw did not knaw ye wor a museesican, Mr. Wrayburn," he said. *' Nor am I, when I've nothing to play 1 6 IF MEN WERE WISE. upon," the other answered. '' Don't let me detain you. Leave the key, and I'll lock up when I've done amusing myself. I suppose there's no objection ? " ** Surely not — surely not! But are ye no' comin' to th' tea-drinkin' ? " ''What tea-drinking?" " Th' whole kit o' them's comin' to oor hoose th' nicht to tak' tea in honour o' Miss Ford." " I should not have thought a Sabbatarian like you would countenance such festivities." " There's no festeevity, Mr. Wrayburn," McFarlane answered solemnly ; *' nor should Aw consent to sech. But folks maun git their supper somewhaur, and we a tho't we might as weel git it thegither for once, jest be w^ay o' welcome to yon lassie." " I see ; very sociable idea." *' Weel, are ye comin' or no ? For if not, Aw'll leave ye the key." Now, a harmonium is a wretched substitute IF MEN WERE WISE. 1 7 for a piano ; yet, being fond of music, Wray- burn would willingly have idled away an hour playing over such fragments as he could recall to memory. But Miss Ford presented a counter-attraction. She was the first woman with any marked degree of refinement whom he had met for over five years, and the temptation to see more of her was too strong to resist. ** I'll come most certainly, with pleasure," he said ; ''but I suppose I had better get a knife and fork, and a plate or two, first ? " '' Ay ; an' any ither craukery ye hauve too," McFarlane bawled after him ; ** it 'ill all be handy." McFarlane's house was the best and lareest in Swanneck, but when the whole juvenile and adult population poured into it, they found it a tight fit. They filled the down- stairs rooms, and overflowed into the kitchen, where the tea-tables were set out. Every household had brought all its avail- VOL. I. 2 IF MEN WERE WISE. able plates, cups, cutlery, and seats, and had contributed somethinor substantial towards the repast. The tables looked as if prepara- tions had been made to feed five thousand in the wilderness, with as little miraculous aid as possible. Mary Ford was installed in the post of honour at Mrs. McFarlane's right hand. All the children being seated, the rest skirmished about and found seats as best they could. " Now, when ye've done settlin yerselves, Aw'll thank ye fur a moment's silence while we have grace," McFarlane said, standing up with his horny hands clasped before him. A partial silence ensuing, he repeated a lengthy grace, while Fanshawe, sitting opposite, held an immense knife ready poised to begin operations. '' Amen," said he, with great fervour. " It's very nice to hear you elocute, Mr. McFarlane, but I believe in gettin' to victuals while they're warm. And if this pie before IF MEN WERE WISE. 1 9 me's of Jane's making, it'll not improve with lettin' grow cold. A good solid crust Jane makes, but a thought heavy." Mrs. Fanshawe received her husband's rather doubtful compliment with perfect good humour. She was a buxom, pleasant-tem- pered woman, w^ho had led a knock-about life in the States and Canada, and was roughened, but not hardened, by her sur- roundings, being naturally kind and good- hearted. The meal was eaten with an amount of talk and lausfhter that eave it a festive air after all, in spite of McFarlane's efforts to preserve a sabbath-day quietude. Mrs. Bord's two dusky Indian handmaids, carrying her twin babies, hung about the door, looking on with stolid interest. " Johnnie," Fan- shawe's Chinaman, ran about at every one's beck and call, his yellow face and twinkling black eyes turning up in every corner of the room. 20 IF MEN WERE WISE. '* This is a novel experience for you." Turning her head at the words, Mary found the owner of the baritone voice sitting on the end of a bench runnlncr at rlo^ht angles with her chair, across the back of which his arm was laid. ** Yes, indeed," she replied ; '' I can scarcely realize that I am myself. It's all so different from home." " Have you come straight from England ? You have not lived in the colony before ? " , *' Oh no. I came out to San Francisco with friends from Eno^land. There I met the Mclntyres, and came on with them to New Westminster ; and there I found my first situation awaiting me." "■ Well, I hope you will like the country. Did you not think the scenery remarkably fine as you came along '^ " *' Yes ; no doubt it's very fine, very wild and savage. But really, what impressed me most was the immense distance we seemed IF MEN WERE WISE. 2 1 to be coming. I began to despair of ever reaching Swanneck, and more despairing about ever getting out of it once it was reached." " You won't want to leave it once you get settled down," " I don't know," said Mary, rather de- jectedly. " I have the strongest desire to remain, and I know one must not expect too much ; but still " She broke off, and two large tears glittered in her eyes. " I have no wish to leave it, and I have been here many years," said Wrayburn, cheerfully ; " I like it better every year." " I understood the settlement had only been some three years in existence," she said, looking up. *' That is so. But I was here a couple of years before any one else." " What ! all alone ? '* '^ Yes." " How could you ? " she exclaimed. 2 2 IF MEN WERE WISE. " What could induce you to begin such a mode of Hfe ? " *' I had been knocking about various parts of America, and strayed into British Columbia without any fixed purpose. But I liked it so well that I camped down." " I don't know how you could bear to live alone among those dreadful mountains." "It was lonely, of course ; but I did not feel it at first. I brought over a couple of experienced men from Quentin ; they built my house, and cleared a bit, and set me going. We lived in a tent, and it was very jolly. They stayed with me the better part of the summer. But when they had gone, and the novelty of the thing was worn off, I did feel most awfully lonely. And then I made absurd mistakes, as a ' tenderfoot ' will. The men told me to lay in all my stores before the winter ; and I laid in — as I thought — enough to feed an army. But either I miscalculated the length of the IF MEN WERE WISE. 23 winter or my own powers of consumption, for first one thine eave out, and then another, until I was Hving on weak tea and slap- jacks." " Whatever are those ? " ]\Iary asked. ''A choice delicacy made of flour, grease, and water," Wrayburn answered laughingly. " Probably you'll make their acquaintance before long." " I think I must be very hungry before I eat those ; they don't sound nice," ?^Iary said, shaking her head. " But what did you do ? How long did your famine last ? " " Until I went into Quentin for fresh stores. It's fifteen miles to Quentin by road, and longer by the lake ; but that is the way we bring nearly everything. So I skated over and borrowed a sledge there, put all I possibly could upon it, and hauled it home. They say it's easier to haul a sledge ten miles over ice than three over land. I don't know ; but when I got home I thought I 24 IF MEN WERE WISE. had hauled myself inadvertently into the other world — ' clean over Jordan,' as Morgan there would say." *' You thought you had killed yourself? " *' Something like it. And then I did feel it was rather a miserable thing to die alone here. And I disliked the idea of dying in the house, yet had not strength to get off my cot." " What difference could it make, dying in the house or in the open air ? " said Mary, regarding somewhat curiously this fanciful man. "Well, you see," he replied, "it would not be such an unheard-of thino- to stumble upon the dead body of a man in wild regions like these. And the sort of men most likely to find such things would be almost sure to try some attempt at decent burial. But the very same men, if, in prowling about, they found a dead man in a house, would fly in nine cases out of ten, filled with superstitious IF MEN WERE WISE. 25 horror, feeling the place too eerie to remain. So I should never eet buried." *' Horrid ! " said Mary, ^vith a litde shiver, seeing in fancy the skeleton of the man before her lying in the forsaken house, muffled by the winter snows, parched by the summer suns. " Do not let us talk about such thino^s. Tell me some more of your adventures." '* Really I have had no adventures ; I never sought them." " Then, the sport here was not the great attraction to you ? " " No ; I'm not a great sportsman," he said slowly. " I have shot from necessity — for food, and do still, of course. But the mere killing of creatures for the sake of killing was never any great sport to me. They may as well live, if there's no reason why they should die." " Really, after five years' residence in these wilds, I should have thought you would 26 IF MEN WERE WISE, have any number of encounters with grizzly- bears and other fierce animals to relate." " You must go to the threepenny thrillers for such encounters ; they don't occur here," he said, smiling. " I have a magnificent bear-skin at home which I use as a rug, but it was given to me by some Indians who favoured me with their company for a few days uninvited, and made me a present of it Avhen they were going." "Well, Indians; have you had no Indian adventures ? " " No ; I generally give them a wide berth when I come across them. Their ways are not ' ways of pleasantness,' 1 assure you. Once, when I got lost among the mountains in the passes above Auburn, I fell in with a Vv^ retched lot of scarecrows, and was glad to accept their hospitality for the nonce, and their squaws were very kind to me. But my record is still blank with regard to Indian adventures too." CHAPTER III T Is not what people say, but their manner of saying it, which disposes us favourably or unfavourably towards them ; and there was in Wrayburn's manner much that Mary found acceptable. '' Is it not stranofe," she said to the McFarlanes, "that a man like Mr. Wrayburn can pass his life in such an out-of-the-way place ? " " No doot he has his aun good reasons to be content wi' it," ^Ivs. McFarlane replied, with a certain significance. "Of course," Mary went on innocently; " many gentlemen have a taste for farming, IF MEN WERE WISE. but are afraid to try experiments where land is dear. It is free here, is it not ? " " Not sae free as ye might think," Mrs. McFarlane said, with a touch of tartness in her tone. " There aren't a many things in the world that are jest altogether free. Miss Mary. An' yon mon didna get his free. He paid good money for't : and he's not boun' to live on't, and improve it, as we are." " And what does he live on, then ? " " On his money," McFarlane chimed in. "Twice a year he tak's a wee jaunt a' the way to Victoria for't. Aw've often tauld him he staunds a gude risk o' bein' robbed some day. But it doesna seem to trouble him. He's a vaira detairmined chap, Aw'll say that fur him ; and there'd be some hard strokes fur them that attacked him." "■ It's a strange life," said Mary, musingly. '' But no doubt people who wish to see the world don't mind discomforts." *' Aw've seen a gude bit o' th' warld mesel', IF MEN WERE WISE, 29 an' Aw've met a gude few who war seein' th' warld till they war gettin' reg'larly fit fur doin' nothin' else," McFarlane said, slowly nodding his head. '' But Aw've never met waun that settled himsel' at th' back o' th' mountains, be way o' seein' th' warld." " You think he has some hidden reason for being here .^ " Mary said, with a troubled expression. ** There's a' sorts o' people in th' colonies, Miss Mary," said Mrs. McFarlane, ''an' ye canna tell who's who. There's vera respect- able '^people, an' college-bred gentlemen ; an' there's men fleein' fram justice that's em- bezzled money, or stolen, or done murder, or want to keep awa' from a wife they don't like, or have maur wives than one ; and the3^'re just vera glaud to be a long way off, and quiet." " Mr. Wrayburn scarcely looks like a man flying from justice," Mary said, slightly smiling. 30 IF MEN WERE WISE. *'Ye caunna tell," observed McFarlane ; " men dunot carry the stamp o' their sins on their forehead like th' braund o' Cain. Yon man interferes wi' no waun, and we're boun' to respec them that mind their aun business. But he doesna farm. There's not a bit cleared but jest what th' bit hoose staunds on. He lives irreg'lar, keepin' no fixed hours ; and he'll disappear fur weeks togither. IMind, Awm not sayin' he's not a prauper sort o' man ; but Aw do say Aw'd advise ye to form no great acquaintance wi' him. He's weel-favoured an' weel-mannered, Aw knaw ; but Aw'd not have ye encourage him." " I shall always meet civility with civility," Mary said composedly. " But if you think I am one o^iven to formino^ sudden friend- ships, or indulging in small flirtations, you are mistaken. My life has been sorrowful, and kindness — coming from whom it may — will always be grateful to me." IF MEN WERE WISE. 3 1 She could not say kindness was wanting in Swanneck. Yet she felt very unhappy, lonely, anxious, dispirited, and homesick. There were many small surface worries, too, that tried her patience. The prying im- pertinent curiosity of the under-bred women who were her sole companions ; the rough conversation of the men ; the ignorant vulgarity of the children ; — these all vexed and depressed her. The absence of the comforts and conveniences to which she had been accustomed, and the constant moving about — boarding a week at a time with each married couple in rotation — were incessant worries in themselves. " I don't know where anything is belong- ing to me," she remarked to Mrs. Fanshawe. " ]\Iy things are all in chaos. I've no sooner unpacked them in one house than I have to cram them all in again and depart." '' It's because you've a deal too much luggage, as all new chums have," replied 32 IF MEN WERE WISE. her hostess. " I could get all I have into that portmanteau ; and you've a great box as well." '' I thought I had very little," sighed Mary. *' They told me to bring all I could in the way of clothing, as there was nothing to be had here." " Bless your heart, they'll tell you all sorts of stuff if you'll listen to 'em. When I lived down at 'Frisco Td heaps of good clothes, silks and stuffs, and jew'lry too. But when we were coming here, says I to myself, * What manner o' use'll all this stuff be to me in the backwoods?' SofI just turned all I could into money again — that's always useful — and the rest I gave away. And if I'm short of a gown I can always get a bit of plain stuff over at Quentin." " Oh, certainly it does not matter much what one wears here," said Mary. *' Why, what a poor, chicken-hearted, doleful little creature you are ! " exclaimed IF MEN WERE WISE, 33 the cheerful woman. '' It don't much matter what old married women, up to their eyes in work, wear. But a young girl like you — it's quite different. If I was you, with a good figure, and all that nice hair, I'd set my cap at some of the young chaps here, and not stick so close to work, but have a bit of fun. There's George Penrhyn, a fine strapping fellow, I'm sure. He's better looking than either Duffy or Brennan ; but they're the better bargain. They're right well off, and a steady pair too ; and Duffy's a gay, pleasant lad. He'd be only too glad to take you out for a drive or a row. You mustn't be too particular. If they were only labouring men once, they all own their bit of land now, and have a tidy bit of money saved too, I'll bet." Mary did not resent Mrs. Fanshawe's match-making proposals. They were sd good-naturedly made, that she could only smile. VOL. r. 3 34 IF MEN WERE WISE, ** Matrimony is the last thought in my head at present," she said, ''and I've no intention of setting my cap at any one." " Oh, I know you think they're not good enough, or suitable. But if you wait until you find a gentleman you'll wait here for ever — unless you take the 'poor devil,' as they call him ; and I'd be afraid he wouldn't be a safe venture." Mary maintained a discreet silence, sus- pecting the remark was made merely as a feeler. In her solitary walks she occasionally encountered Wrayburn, and held trivial conversation with him in spite of McFarlane's warning. She bad come to the conclusion that the prejudice against him arose simply from unsatisfied ignorant curiosity. Wrayburn had not explained who and what he was, the why and wherefore of his solitary life, or the raison detre of the odd inscription over his door. He was friendly, obliging, and pleasant with IF MEN WERE WISE. 35 the settlers ; would do a good turn for any- one, would lend anything, money included. But he never asked any favours in return ; never went in and out of their homes, as they did with each other ; and never joined their services. Consequently they believed he was keeping up the traditions of a superior social status, and they choose to feel affronted. Mary had been about a month in Swan- neck, when she received her first letter from her grandfather, her only relative, and one dearly loved by her. It had been forwarded from New Westminster, and brouorht on from the post-office at the store in Quentin by one oi the men. She seized it with avidity^ and hurried away to the woods where she could be safe from interruptions. She read it over twice : first with eager, devouring eyes, then with rising tears. At last, dropping the paper, she threw herself face downward on the mossy earth, and IF MEN WERE WISE. burst into a flood of passionate tears. All the long-suppressed trouble of former years, joined to the fresher troubles of recent date, culminated and found a bitter relief in this storm, which was all the more violent because of her habitual self-restraint. Her very soul was sick within her with the sense of loneliness and bereavement. Old wounds began to bleed afresh, while the weight of vain longing for home oppressed her. The tragic tempests of sad humanity pass as do the fiercer tempests of elemental strife, leaving a clearer atmosphere behind. Gradually she grew calm again, and, sitting up, wiped away her tears. Then, resting her flushed cheek on her hand, she looked out over the lake with weary, lack-lustre eyes. The old-fashioned sunny streets of a prosaic little English town rose up before her like a vision. The small house, and quaint old garden, where the apple-trees in this May month would be a mass of rosy IF MEN WERE WISE. 37 blossom ; the sitting-room, with its dingy family portraits and treasured heirlooms, all were there ; and the old man would sit alone now. Tears crushed forth aorain with each tender recollection, though she brushed them away as they rose. A commonplace picture I so very commonplace, and yet so dear that the beauties of nature around could not com- pensate for its loss. Yet a glorious landscape stretched before her. The afternoon sun flooded all the hills, and penetrated even to the most sombre valleys, spangling the dark foliage there with a thousand glints of gold. A cascade, fed by melting snow in the hidden recesses of the mountains, leaped down a precipice, snow-white and foaming ; sparkling in sunlight with prismatic lustre ; darkling in the gloom of some cavernous niche in the great chasm ; throwing aloft clouds of spray as it burst asunder over projecting rocks ; but ever continuing its SS IF MEN WERE jWISE. brilliant flight downward to the dark ravine, where it was lost to sight. Very different from this gay tumult was the serene beauty of the peaceful lake, reflecting the hills, the woods, and the blue heavens in its clear depths as in a mirror. The wild fowl, gliding slowly with indolent grace, carried their images beside them painted upon the pellucid water. The faint breeze stirred an almost imperceptible mur- muring sigh in the forest. Not a bird uttered a note ; not a cloud shadowed the earth . Here surely, if anywhere, was the kingdom and abode of '* sweet peace.'' Yet this homesick heart longed for that shabby room ; for the shade of those gnarled old apple- trees. Presently a rushing, rippling sound dis- turbed the silence, and a canoe darted past. It was Wrayburn's canoe ; he was returning from an afternoon constitutional. Although he passed close in-shore, he did IF MEN WERE WISE. 39 not appear to notice Mary. She looked after him with idle interest, watching him dip his light paddle from side to side as the slight craft shot out of sight, leaving a sparkling wake behind on the ruffled surface of the crystal lake. She was mistaken in supposing Wrayburn had not seen hen Not only had he observed her, but he observed also the distress of her whole aspect, and forbore in consequence to recognize her. But as he went home- ward, filled with pity for her, he wondered whether it would look like kindness or im- pertinence to go to her and try to relieve her sorrows. He decided in favour of the former. So, when he had moored his canoe, he turned into the woods and went straight to her. Impatient of interruption, the sound of an approaching footstep irritated her, though the frown on her brow relaxed when she saw Wrayburn. 40 IF MEN WERE WISE, *' What are you doing here on my grounds, looking so melancholy this splendid day ? " he said, as he sat down near her. A shamefaced blush rose to Mary's cheek. '* I felt so lonely and miserable," she said ; " I did not know it was your ground. But I hope you won't put up ' Trespassers will be prosecuted ; ' for it's a great comfort to have a quiet corner where one can come and have a good cry. I have so little privacy." '' Is that so ? Then we must call this point ' Mary's Refuge.' But I hope you will come here to indulge pleasanter feelings by-and-by. How do you get on with the people here ? " '* Not well ; though it is most ungrateful to find fault, for they are all so kind ; but I cannot like them." *' They are rough and uncultivated, but not bad sort of people for all that ; good- hearted, and honest, and most industrious. You must try to look a little below the IF MEN WERE WISE, 4 1 uncouth surface, and find out their good qualities, for they have many." '* I know it," faltered Mary ; '' but you really must not lecture me to-day on my shortcomings. I am too weak to bear it. I have had my first letter from home to-day, and it has made me feel " '' / lecture you .^ Heaven forbid ! " Wray- burn exclaimed. '' You little know how much I sympathize with you. And I know your feeling so well. I have suffered so much that at times, long ago, I would have thrown the whole thing over — given it up and gone straight home, only I was too proud." " I'm afraid pride would not be a strong- enough motive to detain me if I had nothing but my own will to keep me here," said Mary. '' One does not expect or desire a woman to exhibit any uncommon strength of will. She is privileged to be weak and undecided. But when a man has turned his back upon 42 IF MEN WERE WISE. the world, and said as plainly as he can, ' I don't need your company,' and then cc r-cs hurrying back to prove that he does reed It, and cannot live without It, he ccks rather small." *' But we are made soc able creatures, Mr. Wrayburn. It is jj ^. ing our nature to pre- tend we can