CHAPTER V
A FLOWER ON A MOUNTAIN TOP
Prosperous days came to the Lodge. Hospitable John Morrison had found acalling suited to his gifts when he came across the mountain and builtthe big log tavern at the foot of McIntyre. With July, guestsmultiplied, and for those whose duty it was to provide entertainment theproblem became definite and practical. Edith Morrison found her dutieseach day heavier and Robin Farnham was seldom unemployed. Usually he wasaway with his party by daybreak and did not return until afternightfall. Wherever might lie his inclination there would seem to belittle time for love making in such a season.
By the middle of the month the Deanes had taken possession of their campon the west branch of the Au Sable, having made it habitable with aconsignment of summer furnishings from New York, and through the unitedefforts of some half dozen mountain carpenters, urged in theirdeliberate labors by the owner, Israel Deane, an energetic New Englanderwho had begun life a penniless orphan and had become chief stockholderin no less than three commercial enterprises on lower Broadway.
With the removal of the Deanes Mr. Weatherby also became less inevidence at the Lodge. The walk between the Lodge and the camp was tohim a way of enchantment. He had been always a poet at heart, and thiswonderful forest reawakened old dreams and hopes and fancies which hehad put away for the immediate and gayer things of life, hardly moresubstantial and far less real. To him this was a veritable magicwood--the habitation of necromancy--where robber bands of old mightlurk; where knights in silver armor might do battle; where huntsmen ingold and green might ride, the vanished court of some forgotten king.
And at the end of the way there was always the princess--a princess thatlived and moved, and yet, he thought, was not wholly awake--at least notto the reality of his devotion to her, or, being so, did not care, saveto test it at unseemly times and in unusual ways. Frank was quite surethat he loved Constance. He was certain that he had never cared so muchfor anything in the world before, and that if there was a real need hewould make any sacrifice at her command. Only he did not quitecomprehend why she was not willing to put by all stress and effort tobecome simply a part of this luminous summer time, when to him it was sogood to rest by the brook and listen to her voice following some oldtale, or to drift in a boat about the lake shore, finding a quaintinterest in odd nooks and romantic corners or in dreaming idle dreams.
Indeed, the Lodge saw him little. Most days he did not appear betweenbreakfast and dinner time. Often he did not return even for thatfunction. Yet sometimes it happened that with Constance he brought upthere about mail time, and on these occasions they were likely to remainfor luncheon. Constance had by no means given up her nature study, andthese visits usually resulted from the discovery of some especialdelicacy of the woods which, out of consideration for her mother'snervous views on the subject, was brought to the Lodge for preparation.Edith Morrison generally superintended in person this particularcookery, Constance often assisting--or "hindering," as she calledit--and in this way the two had become much better acquainted. Of lateEdith had well-nigh banished--indeed, she had almost forgotten--herheart uneasiness of those earlier days. She had quite convinced herselfthat she had been mistaken, after all. Frank and Constance were togetheralmost continually, while Robin, during the brief stay between eachcoming and going, had been just as in the old time--natural, kind andfull of plans for the future. Only once had he referred more thancasually to Constance Deane.
"I wish you two could see more of each other," he had said. "Some day wemay be in New York, you and I, and I am sure she would be friendly tous."
And Edith, forgetting all her uneasiness, had replied:
"I wish we might"; and added, "of course, I do see her a good deal--oneway and another. She comes quite often with Mr. Weatherby, but then Ihave the household and she has Mr. Weatherby. Do you think, Robin, sheis going to marry him?"
Robin paused a little before replying.
"I don't know. I think he tries her a good deal. He is rich and ratherspoiled, you know. Perhaps he has become indifferent to a good many ofthe things she thinks necessary."
Edith did not reflect at the moment that this knowledge on Robin's partimplied confidential relations with one of the two principals. Robin'sknowledge was so wide and varied it was never her habit to question itssource.
"She would rather have him poor and ambitious, I suppose," shespeculated thoughtfully. Then her hand crept over into his broad palm,and, looking up, she added: "Do you know, Robin, that for a fewdays--the first few days after she came--when you were with her a gooddeal--I almost imagined--of course, I was very foolish--but she is sobeautiful and--superior, like you--and somehow you seemed differenttoward her, too--I imagined, just a little, that you might care for her,and I don't know--perhaps I was just the least bit jealous. I never wasjealous before--maybe I wasn't then--but I felt a heavy, hopelessfeeling coming around my heart. Is that jealousy?"
His strong arm was about her and her face hidden on his shoulder. Thenshe thought that he was laughing--she did not quite see why--but he heldher close. She thought it must all be very absurd or he would notlaugh. Presently he said:
"I do care for her a great deal, and always have--ever since she was alittle girl. But I shall never care for her any more than I did then.Some day you will understand just why."
If this had not been altogether explicit it at least had a genuine ring,and had laid to sleep any lingering trace of disquiet. As for the Lodge,it accepted Frank and Constance as lovers and discussed themaccordingly, all save a certain small woman in black whose mission inlife was to differ with her surroundings, and who, with a sort ofrocking-chair circle of industry, crocheted at one end of the longveranda, where from time to time she gave out vague hints that things ingeneral were not what they seemed, thereby fostering a discomfort of thefuture. For the most part, however, her pessimistic views found littleacceptance, especially as they concerned the affairs of Mr. Weatherbyand Miss Deane. Miss Carroway, who for some reason--perhaps because ofthe nephew whose youthful steps she had guided from the cradle to acomfortable berth in the electric works at Haverford--had appointedherself a sort of guardian of the young man's welfare, openlypooh-poohed the small woman in black, and announced that she shouldn'twonder if there was going to be a wedding "right off." It may be addedthat Miss Carroway was usually the center of the rocking-chair circle,and an open rival of the small woman in black as its directing manager.
The latter, however, had the virtue of persistence. She habituallyelevated her nose and crochet work at Miss Carroway's opinions, avowingthat there was many a slip and that appearances were often deceitful.For her part, she didn't think Miss Deane acted much like a girl in loveunless--she lowered her voice so that the others had to lean forwardthat no syllable might escape--unless it was with _some other man_. Forher part, she thought Miss Deane had seemed happier the first few days,before Mr. Weatherby came, going about with Robin Farnham. Anyhow, sheshouldn't be surprised if something strange happened before the summerwas over, at which prediction Miss Carroway never failed to sniffindignantly, and was likely to drop a stitch in the wristlets she wasknitting for Charlie's Christmas.
It was about the mail hour, at the close of one such discussion, thatthe circle became aware of the objects of their debate approaching fromthe boat landing. They made a handsome picture as they came up the path,and even the small woman in black was obliged to confess that they werewell suited enough "so far as looks were concerned." As usual theycarried the book and basket, and waved them in greeting as they drewnear. Constance lifted the moss and ferns as she passed Miss Carroway todisplay, as she said, the inviting contents, which the old lady regardedwith evident disapproval, though without comment. Miss Deane carried thebasket into the Lodge, and when she returned brought Edith Morrison withher. The girl was rosy with the bustle going on indoors, and her brightcolor, with her black hair and her spotless white apron, made her astriking figure. Constance admired her openly.
"I brought her out to
show you how pretty she looks," she said gayly."Oh, haven't any of you a camera?"
This was unexpected to Edith, who became still rosier and started toretreat. Constance held her fast.
"Miss Morrison and I are going to do the russulas--that's what theywere, you know--ourselves," she said. "Of course, Miss Carroway, youneed not feel that you are obliged to have any of them, but you willmiss something very nice if you don't."
"Well, mebbe so," agreed the old lady. "I suppose I've missed a gooddeal in my life by not samplin' everything that came along, but mebbeI've lived just as long by not doin' it. Isn't that Robin Farnhamyonder? I haven't seen him for days."
He had come in the night before, Miss Morrison told them. He had broughta party through Indian Pass and would not go out again until morning.
Constance nodded.
"I know. They got their supper at the fall near our camp. Robin cameover to call on us. He often runs over for a little while when he comesour way."
She spoke quite unconcernedly, and Robin's name came easily from herlips. The little woman in black shot a triumphant look at Miss Carroway,who did not notice the attention or declined to acknowledge it. Of theothers only Edith Morrison gave any sign. The sudden knowledge thatRobin had called at the Deane camp the night before--that it was hishabit to do so when he passed that way--a fact which Robin himself hadnot thought it necessary to mention--and then the familiar use of hisname--almost caressing, it had sounded to her--brought back with a rushthat heavy and hopeless feeling about her heart. She wanted to be wiseand sensible and generous, but she could not help catching the verandarail a bit tighter, while the rich color faded from her cheek. Yet noone noticed, and she meant that no one, not even Robin, should know. Nodoubt she was a fool, unable to understand, but she could not looktoward Robin, nor could she move from where she stood, holding fast tothe railing, trying to be wise and as self-possessed as she felt thatother girl would be in her place.
Robin, meantime, had bent his steps in their direction. In his genialmanner and with his mellow voice he acknowledged the greetings of thislittle group of guests. He had just recalled, he said to Constance,having seen something, during a recent trip over McIntyre, which he hadat first taken for a very beautiful and peculiar flower. Later he haddecided it might be of special interest to her. It had a flower shape,he said, and was pink in color, but was like wax, resembling somewhatthe Indian pipe, but with more open flowers and much more beautiful. Hedid not recall having seen anything of the sort before, and would havebrought home one of the waxen blooms, only that he had been going theother way and they seemed too tender to carry. He thought it a fungusgrowth.
Constance was deeply interested in his information, and the descriptionof what seemed to her a possible discovery of importance. She made himrepeat the details as nearly as he could recollect, and with the bookattempted to classify the species. Her failure to do so only stimulatedher enthusiasm.
"I suppose you could find the place, again," she said.
"Easily. It is only a few steps from the tripod at the peak," and hedrew with his pencil a plan of the spot.
"I've heard the McIntyre trail is not difficult to keep," Constancereflected.
"No--provided, of course, one does not get into a fog. It's harder then.I lost the trail myself up there once in a thick mist."
The girl turned to Frank, who was lounging comfortably on the steps,idly smoking.
"Suppose we try it this afternoon," she said.
Mr. Weatherby lifted his eyes to where Algonquin lay--its peaks amongthe clouds.
"It looks pretty foggy up there--besides, it will be rather latestarting for a climb like that."
Miss Deane seemed a bit annoyed.
"Yes," she said, rather crossly, "it will always be too foggy, or toolate, or too early for you. Do you know," she added, to the company atlarge, "this young man hasn't offered to climb a mountain, or to gotrouting, once since he's been here. I don't believe he means to, allsummer. He said the other day that mountains and streams were made forscenery--not to climb and fish in."
The company discussed this point. Miss Carroway told of a hill nearHaverford which she used to climb, as a girl. Frank merely smiledgood-naturedly.
"I did my climbing and fishing up here when I was a boy," he said. "Ithink the fish are smaller now----"
"And the mountains taller--poor, decrepit old man!"
"Well, I confess the trails do look steeper," assented Frank, mildly;"besides, with the varied bill of fare we have been enjoying these days,I don't like to get too far from Mrs. Deane's medicine chest. I shouldnot like to be seized with the last agonies on top of a high mountain."
Miss Deane assumed a lofty and offended air.
"Never you mind," she declared; "when I want to scale a high mountain Ishall engage Mr. Robin Farnham to accompany me. Can you take me thisafternoon?" she added, addressing Robin.
The young man started to reply, reddened a little and hesitated. Edith,still lingering, holding fast to the veranda rail, suddenly spoke.
"He can go quite well," she said, and there was a queer inflection inher voice. "There is no reason----"
But Constance had suddenly arisen and turned to her.
"Oh, I beg your pardon!" she pleaded hastily. "He has an engagement withyou, of course. I did not think--I can climb McIntyre any time. Besides,Mr. Weatherby is right. It is cloudy up there, and we would be latestarting."
She went over close to Edith. The latter was pale and constrained,though she made an effort to appear cordial, repeating her assurancethat Robin was quite free to go--that she really wished him to do so.Robin himself did not find it easy to speak, and Edith a moment laterexcused herself, on the plea that she was needed within. Constancefollowed her, presently, while Frank, lingering on the steps, askedRobin a few questions concerning his trip through the Pass. Of therocking-chair circle, perhaps only the small woman in black foundcomfort in what had just taken place. A silence had fallen upon thelittle company, and it was a relief to all when the mail came and therewas a reason for a general breaking-up. As usual, Frank and Constancehad a table to themselves at luncheon and ate rather quietly, though therussulas, by a new recipe, were especially fine. When it was over atlast they set out to explore the woods back of the Lodge.
The Lucky Piece: A Tale of the North Woods Page 6