II
THE UNKNOWN LADY
Garth Pevensey was a reporter on the _New York Leader_. His choice ofan occupation had been made more at the dictate of circumstances thanof his free will; and in the round hole of modern journalism he wassomething of a square and stubborn peg. He had become a reporter becausehe had no taste for business; and a newspaper office is the naturalrefuge for clever young men with a modicum of education, and the needof providing an income. He was not considered a "star" on the force;and his city editor had been known to tear his hair at the missedopportunities in Pevensey's copy, and hand it to one of the more glowingstylists for the injection of "ginger." But Garth had his revenge in theresult; the gingerized phrases in his quiet narrative cried aloud, likemodern gingerbread work on a goodly old dwelling.
It was agreed in the office that Pevensey was too quiet ever to make acrack reporter. On a big story full of human interest he was no good. Itwas not that he failed to realize the possibilities of such stories; hehad as sure an eye for the picturesque and affecting as Dicky Chatworthhimself, the city editor's especial favourite; but he had an unconquerablerepugnance to "letting himself go." Moreover his stuff was suspected ofhaving a literary quality, something that is respected but not desiredin a newspaper office. Howbeit, there were some things Garth could doto the entire satisfaction of the powers; he might be depended on for aneffective description of any big show, when the readers' tear-ducts werenot to be laid under contribution; he had an undeniable way with himof impressing the great and the near-great; and had occasionally beensurprisingly successful in extracting information from the supposedlyuninterviewable.
Though his brilliancy might be discounted, Pevensey was one of the mostlooked-up-to, and certainly the best-liked man on the staff. He wasentirely unassuming for one thing; and though he had the reputation ofleading rather a saintly life himself, he was as tolerant as Jove; andthe giddy youngsters who came and went on the staff of the _Leader_ withsuch frequency liked to confide their escapades to him, sure of beingreceived with an interest which might pass very well for sympathy.It was with the very young ones that he was most popular; he took onhimself no irritating airs of superiority; he was a good listener; andhe never flew off the handle. Such a man has the effect of a refreshingsedative on the febrile nerves of an up-to-date newspaper office.
Outside the office Garth led an uneventful life. He lived withhis mother and a younger brother and sister, and ever since hisknickerbocker days he had been the best head the little family couldboast of. New York is full of young men like Garth who, deprived ofthe kind of society their parents were accustomed to, do not assimilatereadily with that which is open to all; and so do without any.Young, presentable and clever, Garth had yet never had a woman fora friend. Those he met in the course of a reporter's rounds made himover-fastidious. He had erected a sky-scraping ideal of fine breedingin women, of delicacy, reserve and finish; and his life hitherto had notafforded him a single opportunity of meeting a woman who could anywherenear measure up to it. That was his little private grievance with Fate.
Garth came of a family of sporting and military traditions, which he hadinherited in full force. These, in the young bread-winner of the city,had had to be largely repressed; but he had found a certain outlet injoining a militia regiment, in which he had at length been elected anofficer. He had a passion for firearms; and was the prize sharpshooterof his regiment. Wonderful tales were related of his prowess.
When the _Leader_ was invited to send a representative on the excursionof press correspondents, which an enterprising immigration agencypurposed conducting through the Canadian Northwest, Garth was chosento go--most unexpectedly to himself, and to the higher-paid men on thestaff. This trip put an entirely new colour on Garth's existence. He hadalways felt a secret longing to travel, to wander under strange skies,and observe new sides of life. From the very start of the journey hefound himself in a state of pleasant exhilaration which was reflected inthe copy he sent back to his paper. Pevensey's articles on the West madea distinct hit. The editors of the _Leader_ did not tell him so; but inthe very silence from New York that followed him, he knew he had foundfavour in their eyes; and he felt the delicious gratification of onewho has been unappreciated.
When the excursion, lapped in the luxury of a private car (nothingcan be too good for those who are going to publish their opinions ofyou), reached Prince George, the outermost point of their wide swingaround the country, the good people of the town outdid themselves inentertaining the correspondents. Among the festivities, a large publicreception gave the correspondents and the leading men of the countrythe opportunity to become acquainted. To Garth the most interesting manpresent was the Bishop of Miwasa. His Lordship was a retiring man investments a thought shabby; and the other correspondents overlooked him.But Garth had heard by accident that the Bishop's annual tour of hisdiocese included a trip of fifteen hundred miles by canoe and pack-trainthrough the wilderness; and he scented a story. The Bishop was one ofthose incorrigibly modest men who are the despair of interviewers; butGarth stuck to him, and got the story in the end. It was the best sentout of Prince George on that trip.
During the five days the correspondents spent there, the quiet Garthand the quiet Bishop became fast friends over innumerable pipes at theAthabasca Club. They discovered a common liking for the same brandof tobacco, which created a strong bond. Garth was entranced by theBishop's matter-of-fact stories of his long journeys through thewilderness during the delightful summers, and in the rigorous winters;and the upshot was, the Bishop asked him to join him in his forthcomingtour of the diocese, which was to start from Miwasa Landing on thefirst of August.
Garth jumped at the opportunity; and telegraphing lengthily to hispaper to set forth the rich copy that was pining to be gathered in theNorth, prayed for permission to go. He received a brief answer, allowinghim two months' leave of absence for the journey at his own risk andexpense; and promising to purchase what of his stuff might be suitable,at space rates. This was precisely what he wanted; it meant two months'liberty. By the time he received it, the excursion had left PrinceGeorge behind; and was turned homeward. Garth dropped off at a waystation and made his way back, this time without any fetes to greethis arrival. He caught the Bishop as he was starting for the Landing;and it was arranged Garth should follow him by stage, three days later.Meantime he was to purchase an outfit.
* * * * *
On the evening of the day following his luncheon at Papps's, Garth, inhis room at the hotel, was packing in a characteristically masculinefashion, preparatory to his start for the North woods next day.
It would have been patent to an infant that he had something on hismind. He was not thinking of the romantic journey that lay before him;that prospect, so exhilarating the past few days, had, upon the eve ofrealization, lost its savour. He would actually have welcomed an excuseto postpone it for a few days--so that he might spend a little moremoney at Papps's. It was a pair of flashing blue eyes--for blue eyes doflash, though they be not customarily chosen to illustrate that capacityof the human orb--which had disturbed his peace. He was very muchdissatisfied with the part he had played at luncheon the day before.What he ought to have said and done was now distressingly clear to him;and he craved an opportunity to put it into practice. He had spent thewhole middle part of this day at Papps's, loitering in the entrance tomake sure the blue eyes should not be swallowed in one of the cabinswithout his knowledge; but they had not illumined the place; nor hadhis cautious inquiries elicited a single clue to the identity of thepossessor. He felt sure if he had three days more in Prince George hecould discover her: but unfortunately the weekly stage for the Northleft the following morning; and the Bishop was waiting for him atthe Landing; likewise the _Leader_ back in New York was waiting forstories--and not about blue eyes. It was at this point in his circulartrain of reflections that he would resume packing with a gusty sigh.
He was interrupted by a knock on the door, and, upon op
ening it, wasnot a little astonished to receive a note from the hands of a boy, whosignified his intention of waiting for an answer. It was contained in athick, square envelope with a crest on the flap; and was addressed in atall, angular, feminine hand. Garth, his mind ever running in the samecourse, tore it open with a crazy hope in his heart; but the firstwords brought him sharply back to earth.
"Will Mr. Garth Pevensey," thus it ran, "be good enough to oblige an old lady by calling at the Bristol Hotel this evening? Mrs. Mabyn will be awaiting him in the parlour; and as it concerns a matter of supreme importance to her, she trusts he will not fail her; no matter how late the hour at which he may be able to come."
Garth dismissed the boy with a message to the effect that he wouldanswer the note in person. As he leisurely put his appearance in order,he thought: "Verily one's adventures begin upon leaving home." He washuman, consequently his curiosity was pleasantly stimulated to discoverwhat lay before him: but the little adjective in the first sentence ofhis appellant's letter was fatal to the idea of any violent enthusiasmon her behalf.
The parlour of the Bristol Hotel was on the first floor above the streetlevel. Garth paused at the door; and cast a glance about the room. Itwas empty except for two figures at the further end. The one he couldsee more plainly was an old lady sitting in an easy-chair; she wasdressed in black, with a white cap and white wristbands; a spare, erectlittle lady. Garth judged her to be the writer of the note. The otherfigure, also a woman, was partly hidden in a window embrasure. Shewas standing by the window holding the curtain back with one hand, andlooking into the street. She turned her head to speak to the old lady;whereupon Garth's heart leapt in his bosom, the room rocked, and thechandeliers burst into song; that clear profile, that slender figurecould belong to none in Prince George but _Her_! He was overcome withdelight and amazement; he could scarcely credit his eyes. He wished inthe same instant he had spent more care on his appearance, and that hehad not kept them waiting so long.
The younger lady perceived him standing in the shadowy doorway, and cametoward him.
"Mr. Pevensey?" she began in a voice of cool inquiry. Then she stoppedaghast; and the colour flamed into her face. "_You!_" she exclaimed ina voice too low to reach the older woman's ears. "Oh, I didn't know--Inever suspected it might be you!"
Garth was conscious of a complicated feeling of irritation, a kind ofjealousy of himself. "Why did they send for me, if they didn't know itwas me?" was his thought.
"What must you think of me?" she said in obvious distress.
"I am in the dark," said Garth helplessly.
She recovered her forces. "I am not in the habit of going to restaurantsalone," she said. "But the hotel here is so bad! I am afraid you mustthink me a frivolous person, and I am anxious you should not think so."
"I don't," said Garth bluntly.
She smiled. "Very well," she said; "then there's no harm done."
"Natalie!" called the old lady, with a hint of irritation.
"Come and meet Mrs. Mabyn," she said quickly; and led the way.
"This is Mr. Pevensey, Mrs. Mabyn," she said.
The old lady regarded Garth with a sharp scrutiny; and Garth looked withinterest at her. She was a fragile, elegant, plaintive little personof the old "lady-like" regime; but for all her gentleness, Garth wassomehow conscious that he faced a woman of an iron will. She had theimpatient, inattentive manner of one possessed by a single idea. Withthe result of her examination she appeared but half satisfied; sheheld out a delicate, wrinkled hand, dubiously.
"How do you do?" she said. "Please sit down."
"I am Natalie Bland," further explained the girl, who had againretreated to the window embrasure. "Mrs. Mabyn and I are travellingtogether."
"Dear Natalie is a daughter to me," murmured Mrs. Mabyn with commendablefeeling.
The two women exchanged a glance which Garth was at a loss to interpret.He was looking at Natalie and he thought he saw patience, realaffection, and perhaps a little kindly amusement--but there wassomething beyond; something grimmer and more determined, a hintof rebellion.
"My husband, Canon Mabyn, was the rector of Christ's Church Cathedralin Millerton, Ontario, up to the time of his death," murmured Mrs.Mabyn in her dulcet tones, with the air of one delivering all-sufficientcredentials.
Garth murmured to show that he was suitably impressed.
"You are from New York, I believe," said Mrs. Mabyn.
Garth acknowledged the fact.
"So the newspaper said," she remarked. "Of course, I know very fewAmericans, still it is possible we may have common friends. You--er--"She paused invitingly.
"Hadn't we better explain why we asked Mr. Pevensey to call?" put inNatalie quietly.
"My dear, Mr. Pevensey was just about to tell me of his people," Mrs.Mabyn said in tones of gentle reproof.
Garth saw what the old lady would be after. "My father, LieutenantRaymond Pevensey, was in the Navy," he said. "He was killed by a powderexplosion on the gunboat _Arkadelphia_, twelve years ago."
"Dear me, how unfortunate!" murmured Mrs. Mabyn sympathetically; butit rang chillingly, and her abstracted eyes dwelt throughout upon thatrelentless thought of hers, whatever it was.
"I am related distantly to the Buhannons of Richmond, and theMainwarings of Philadelphia," continued Garth, willing to humour her.
"There was a Mainwaring at Chelsea with my husband as a boy," remarkedMrs. Mabyn.
"Probably my great-uncle," he said. "In this part of the world," he wenton, "there is no one who knows me beyond mere acquaintanceship, exceptthe Bishop of Miwasa--"
"Pray say no more, Mr. Pevensey," interrupted Mrs. Mabyn. "The mere factthat the Bishop invited you to accompany him is, after all, sufficient."She turned to the girl. "You may continue, dear Natalie."
"We read in this evening's paper," began that young lady with a directnessrefreshing after Mrs. Mabyn's circumlocutions; "that you were starting forMiwasa Landing to-morrow morning, to join the Bishop on his annual tour.We wished particularly to see you before you started; and that is whyI--why Mrs. Mabyn wrote."
"We thank you for coming so promptly," put in Mrs. Mabyn with hergracious air.
Garth murmured truthfully that the pleasure was his. He felt himself onthe breathless verge of a discovery. Intuition warned him of what wascoming; but he could not believe it yet.
"Mr. Pevensey," resumed the young lady as if with an effort; she had thehumility of a proud soul who stoops to ask a favour; "we are going tomake a very strange request, as from total strangers."
Mrs. Mabyn raised an agitated hand. "Wait, wait, my dear Natalie," sheobjected. "Perhaps after all, we had better go no further. I--I think wehad better give the plan up," she said in apparently the deepestdistress.
The girl turned a patient shoulder, and looked into the street again,abstractedly playing with the cord of the blind.
"It is really too much to ask of you," continued Mrs. Mabyn distressfully;"and I am so afraid for Natalie! Natalie is so very dear to me. Thesituation is _so_ unusual!" she wailed.
Poor Garth was sadly perplexed and exasperated by all this. The discoveryhe anticipated was now apparently in retreat.
"We are glad, anyway, to have had the pleasure of making youracquaintance," said Mrs. Mabyn with an air of finality.
Suddenly it was borne in upon Garth, partly from the girl's patientattitude, partly from the other's emphasis upon her distress, that itwas simply, in newspaper parlance, all a bluff on the part of the olderwoman. Her fanatic eyes seemed to tell him that she was still bent onher object, whatever it might be. Experience had taught him that thequickest way to find out if he were right was to seem to fall inwith her desire. So he promptly rose as if to leave. It worked.
Mrs. Mabyn's eyes snapped. She did not relish being taken up so quickly."One moment, Mr. Pevensey," she said plaintively--and hastily. "Overlookthe distraction of an old woman; I am torn two ways!"
Garth understood by this that the matter was reopene
d; and sat downagain. There was a pause, while the old lady struggled, with the air ofa martyr, to regain her composure. The girl continued to look stolidlyout of the window; and Garth simply waited for what was coming.
"You may continue, Natalie," said Mrs. Mabyn at length, faintly.
The girl resumed her explanation at the exact point where she left off."We expected--that is, we hoped you were an older man--" Garth lookedso disappointed she immediately added: "For that would make the requestseem less strange." She hesitated.
"What is it?" asked Garth.
But she parried awhile. "What sort of a man is the Bishop?" she asked.
Garth described his modesty and his manliness.
"A very proper person to be Bishop in a wild country," remarked Mrs.Mabyn, patronizingly.
"And his wife?" asked Natalie.
Garth pictured a homely, unassuming body, with a great heart.
"Of course!" said Mrs. Mabyn. A whole chapter might be devoted to theanalysis of the tone in which she said it.
"We had heard she accompanies her husband," said Natalie.
"Yes," said Garth.
"That simplifies matters!" exclaimed Mrs. Mabyn.
"Their route takes in Spirit River Crossing, I believe," pursuedNatalie.
Garth affirmed it, wondering.
Natalie paused before she went on. "Whatever you may think of what I amgoing to tell you, Mr. Pevensey," she said with the same proud appeal inher voice, "we may count on you, I am sure, not to speak of it to anyone for the present."
"Indeed you may!" he said warmly.
"I am obliged to get to Spirit River Crossing at the earliest possiblemoment," she said simply.
Through the wilderness with _her_! Garth had to wait a moment before hecould trust himself to reply with becoming coolness.
"Have you considered the kind of a journey it is?" he asked quietly.
"That is the worst of it!" complained Mrs. Mabyn. "I had expected to gowith her; but we find it is out of the question."
Garth hastened to assure her that it was.
"I have considered everything," said Natalie.
"But do you know that you will have to travel two or three weeks in anopen boat in all weathers, a mere canoe in fact; that you will have tosleep out of doors, and live on the very roughest of fare? Could youstand it?" he demanded almost sternly.
"I am perfectly well and strong," answered Natalie.
"That is quite so, happily," said Mrs. Mabyn. "Otherwise, I would nothear of it for a moment."
"If the Bishop's wife can stand it, certainly I can," said Natalie.
"But she is obliged to do it," said Garth.
"So am I!" said Natalie quickly.
There was an awkward pause. Garth said nothing, but his question wasfelt.
"Naturally you wonder what forces me to undertake such a journey," saidNatalie uncomfortably.
"Couldn't I help you more intelligently if I knew?" suggested Garth.
"But I cannot tell you," she said. "That is, not yet. Believe me, it isnothing I need be ashamed of----"
"Natalie!" exclaimed Mrs. Mabyn indignantly. "Is it not I who urge youto go?"
"Yes, I am doing what will be considered a most praiseworthy thing,"said Natalie with what sounded strangely like--bitterness.
"Yes, indeed!" urged Mrs. Mabyn, who seemed to have forgotten her lateanxiety on Natalie's account.
"But in telling you," objected Natalie gently, "I would have to trustyou to a far greater extent than you would be trusting me, in lendingme, without knowing my reasons, the assistance of one traveller toanother."
Garth was ready enough to throw himself at her feet without thisaffecting appeal. "Please count on me," he said, moved more than hewould let them see, especially the old woman. "How can I help you?"
"See me as far as Miwasa Landing," she said simply. "I will then throwmyself on the goodness of the Bishop and his wife; and trust to themto take me with them the rest of the way--that is, if I wish to go.The Bishop may be able to give me information," she added darkly.
"Natalie!" put in Mrs. Mabyn, warningly. "I--I will give her letters tothose good people," she added hastily, to divert Garth's mind from thestrangeness of Natalie's last words.
But Garth was in no temper to be deflected by a mystery. "I am thankfulfor the chance to be of service," he said fervently, having a keen senseof the poverty of words.
"Thank you," said Natalie, simply. "Let us talk of ways and means," sheadded decisively. "What should I take?"
Two on the Trail: A Story of the Far Northwest Page 2