VI
NATALIE TELLS ABOUT HERSELF
The little stern-wheeler lay with her nose tucked comfortably in themud of the river bank; and a hawser taut between her capstan and atree. Every soul on board, except the three passengers, slept. Garth andNatalie were sitting in the corner of the upper deck astern, on the seatwhich encircles the rail. The third passenger, a mysterious person, whoall unknown to the other two had been making it her business to watchthem, observing where they sat, had softly entered the end stateroom;and with her head at the window, stretched her ears to hear their talk.
The _Aurora Borealis_, after the loss of three precious days, duringwhich Captain Jack endlessly backed and filled, and the water in theriver steadily fell, had finally cast off that afternoon; and afterascending twenty miles or so, tied up to the bank to await the dawn.It was now about ten; overcast above; velvety dark below; and stillas death. For the first time Garth and Natalie missed, with a catch inthe breath, the faint, domestic murmur that rises on the quietest nightfrom an inhabited land. It was so still they could occasionally hear thestealthy fall of tiny, furry feet among the leaves on shore. The treeskept watch on the bank like a regiment of shades at attention. Themoment provided Natalie's opportunity to fulfil her promise.
"I will try to be very frank," she began by saying, "I am so anxious youshould not misunderstand. You have been so good to me!"
"Please don't," said Garth uncomfortably. "Take me for granted as a manwould. I shall never be at ease with you, if you're going to be thankingme at every opportunity!"
"I'll try not to," she said meekly. The darkness swallowed the smile andthe shine her eyes bent on him.
If Garth expected a sad beginning he was immediately undeceived.Natalie's invincible spirits launched her gaily on her tale.
"I've lived all my days in a Canadian city back East," she began;"too big a place to be simple; and too small to be finished. I neverappreciated the funny side of it until I travelled. You have no ideaof the complacency of such a place, the beautiful self-sufficiency ofthe people; you should hear what a patronizing tone they take towardthe outside world! But they have their good points; they're kind andfriendly with each other; and not nearly so snobbish as the people oflittle places are generally pictured. Everybody that is anybody knowsall the other somebodies so well, it's like one great family. My peoplehave lived there for ages; and so everybody knows me; and half of themare my cousins.
"We've always been as poor as church mice," she continued in a tone ofcheerful frankness. "We live in a huge house that is gradually comingdown about our ears; the drawing-room carpet is full of holes; the oldsilver is shockingly dented and the Royal Worcester all chipped. Thereare other household secrets I need not go into. People are kind enoughto make believe not to notice--even when they get a chunk of plaster onthe head.
"Everybody says it's my father's fault; they say he's a ne'er-do-weel;and even unkinder things. But he's such a dear boy"--Natalie's voicesoftened--"as young, oh! years younger than you! And everythinginvariably goes wrong with his affairs," she continued briskly; "but heis always good-tempered, and never neglects to be polite to the ladies.My mother has been an invalid for ten years. We do all we can for her;but, poor dear! she isn't much interested in us! Can you blame her? AndI have half a dozen dear, bad little brothers and sisters. We're allexactly alike; we fight all the time and love one another to distraction.
"You see it's not a picture of a well-ordered household I'm drawing you.Indeed it's a mystery how we ever get along at all; but we do, somehow;and no one the worse. Fortunately there seems to be something about usthat people like. They just wag their heads and laugh and exclaim, 'Oh,the Blands!' and don't expect anything better of us. Conversations arestarted when some one comes in saying: 'Have you heard the latest aboutthe Blands?' I'm sure they would be disappointed if we ever reformed.People have always been so kind to me"--Natalie's voice deepenedagain--"Ah! so _very_ kind, it makes my heart swell and my eyelidsprickle when I think of it. I've been carried everywhere in luxurylike an heiress," she briskened, "and there is no doubt I have beenthoroughly spoiled."
Natalie paused awhile here; and Garth apprehended that, the prologuefinished, the story was about to commence.
"A man, the first, fell in love with me when I was eighteen--six yearsago," she presently resumed. "Of course I do not count all the dear,foolish boys before that--they say in Millerton that the boys attachthemselves to me to finish their education--but that's all foolishness.I'm so very fond of boys! I could laugh and hug them all! They're so--sotheatrical! But the man was different; he was fifteen years olderthan I; and alas! another ne'er-do-weel! He had been a football and acricketing hero; he was very good-looking in a worn-out, dissipated kindof a way. He had gone to the bad in all the usual ways I believe--evendishonesty; though I didn't learn that until long afterward." The funhad died out of Natalie's voice now. "It's a miserable, ordinary kindof a story, isn't it?" she said deprecatingly. "Most girls go throughwith it safely; but I--well I was the simple sprat that was caught!
"He was returning to Millerton after a long absence," she went on; "hispeople were well known there. He appeared to be perfectly mad about me;and my poor little head was quite turned. His wickedness was vague andromantic; for no one ever explained anything to me of course; and theidea of leading him back into the paths of righteousness was quitedistractingly attractive. I had no one to put me right, you see--butperhaps I wouldn't have listened if I had had.
"I won't weary you with all the silly details of the affair. My cheeksare burning now at the thought of my colossal folly. He won his motherover to his side. He was an only child; and she would have chopped offher hand to serve him. She joined her persuasions to his. He swore if Imarried him he would go out West, turn over that everlasting new leaf,and make his fortune. He wanted me to marry him before he went, so thathe could feel sure of me. I did balk at that; I thought my word oughtto be sufficient; but he and his mother pleaded and pleaded with me.Together, they were too much for me; and so, at last, I gave in. Ithought I would be saving him; I thought I loved him--it is soeasy for children to fool themselves! I married him."
Natalie paused; and with the ceasing of her voice, the great silenceof the North woods seemed to leap between them, thrusting them asunder.Garth's heart for the journey was gone. He was thankful for the mercifuldarkness that hid his face.
Presently she resumed in the toneless voice of one who tells what cannotbe mended: "We were married in Toronto. His mother and the clergymanwere the only witnesses. The instant the words were spoken, the wholeextent of the hideous mistake I had made was revealed to me--why isit we see so clearly _then_? We went direct from the ceremony to thestation, where he boarded his train for the West. I have not laid eyeson him since. His name is Herbert Mabyn--and that, of course, is mylegal name, which I have never used. It was his mother you met inPrince George."
Garth drew a deep breath; and carefully schooled his voice. "Is healive?" he asked.
"Yes," she said. "My journey is to find him."
"Was it necessary for _you_ to come?" he asked.
"There was no one else," she said. "No one but Mrs. Mabyn and he and Iknow of the marriage. There were many reasons--and complicated ones. Ido wish to be frank with you; but I scarcely know how to explain. Onlyone thing is clear to me; I _had_ to come; or never know peace again.
"I have a conscience," she went on presently; "a queer, twisted thing;and with every man that became fond of me, thinking I was free, it hurtme more--though perhaps it did _them_ no real harm. And then there wasMrs. Mabyn--how can I explain to you about her?"
"I think I understand," Garth put in.
"She has been very kind to me all these years; but it was a kind oftyrannical kindness, too--it was as if she was tying me to her withone chain of kindness after another. And I wished to live my own life!And it seemed to me that the only way in which I could discharge myobligations to her, and win my freedom, was by doing this thing, whichshe so ardent
ly desires. She believes, you see, that I am the only onewho can save him."
Garth muttered something which sounded uncomplimentary to Mrs. Mabyn.
"But I am really fond of her," Natalie said quickly. "She has a mortaldisease," she added; "one must make allowances for that."
"Where is _he_?" Garth asked.
"His last letter, eight months ago, was post-marked Spirit RiverCrossing," she said. "We gathered from it that he had a place somewherenear there. We know very little. At first he wrote often and cheerfully;he seemed to be getting on: but later, he moved about a great deal; hisletters came at longer intervals; and the tone of them changed. Hismother thinks his health has broken down. I am to find out; and tosave him, if I can."
There was a long silence here. Garth could not speak for the fear ofbetraying an indignation which could only have hurt her; and Nataliewas busy with her own painful thoughts.
"There is something else," she resumed at last in a very low tone."I have not yet been quite frank with you--and I do so wish to be! Youmust not think I am undertaking this purely on his mother's account;for there is a selfish reason too. In the bottom of my heart there isa hope--perhaps it is a wicked hope--but if you knew how this collar hasgalled me!" She stopped; and then quickly resumed. "I married this manwith my eyes open; and I will do my part by him--but if--" her voicefell again--"if it has not helped him; if in spite of my honest effortsto save him, and all the letters I wrote, if he has fallen lower thanever, and has ceased to struggle--then I will consider my part done!"
There seemed to be no more to say. Garth's heart was beating fast;and he was longing to tell her that he understood, and that he lovedand admired her for what she had told him, but he could not tell hercoldly, and he would not tell her warmly. As for Natalie, she waitedbreathlessly for his first word; mightily desiring his approval, buttoo proud to ask it. Finally she could stand the suspense no longerand pride succumbed. It took her a long time to get the question out.
"Are you--are you sorry you volunteered to take me?" she faltered.
"No!" cried Garth in a great voice.
She found his hand in the darkness; and gave it a swift, gratefulsqueeze. "Good night!" she whispered; and ran to her stateroom.
Garth, with his pipe and the mighty stillness to bear him company,remained on deck until dawn. In the spirit of the North he discoveredsomething akin to his own soul; the solitude and the stillness bracedhim to deny himself manfully what was not manfully his to have. In theact of relinquishing Natalie, he felt, what he would not have supposedpossible, a great, added tenderness for her. Before he went in, hissober cheerfulness had returned; but in the morning he was somehowmore mature.
Two on the Trail: A Story of the Far Northwest Page 6