He pressed her against his side. "You did indeed, Gran!"
"Too bad they made Vera return the ring! But I have it safe for you. Whenever you want it - you'll know where to find it." She gave him an arch look.
"You were a brick about that, Gran."
"Walk me up and down a little. It's cold standing here. Capes are cold things. I've always said so."
They took a turn up and down the drive, a striking pair, she in her cap and mink cape, he in his cadet's uniform. Hodge had the luggage in the trap. The bays were pawing the gravel.
"Goodbye, Gran." He bent to kiss her.
She laid her hand on his chest. "Don't be in such a hurry. I want to say this.... You must not set your heart too strongly on that girl. You never know how things will end in these first love affairs. I've had 'em. They die a natural death. But when a great love comes you'll know it. Let me tell you that!"
He looked unbelieving, sure of the endurance of his love. She kissed him on each cheek and he got into the trap beside Hodge.
"Goodbye, Gran, goodbye!" He waved his hand to her and to Mary and Eden, whose faces were at the window. He heard Eden's shrill voice calling to him. He saw Peep's bright form flashing to and fro. The trap bowled along the drive, its wheels and the well-groomed flanks of the bays glimmering behind the evergreens.
Adeline stood looking after them, leaning on her stick. A fine boy, bone of her bone, a perfect Court! Strange it would be now, women alone in the house together, no man about. Strange to think winter was coming on ... no man about ... strange how quickly the summer had passed ... like a dream ... now the cold weather was coming on ... a long, long spell of it.
A chill sunlight flickered out between the indigo clouds and fell on her, on the frozen grass and bare trees. "Those clouds mean snow," she said aloud, looking up at them. A poem of Moore's she had used to like, but had not thought of for years, came into her mind. She stood, leaning on her stick, looking straight ahead of her, and began to repeat it: -
She trudged along the drive to the small wooden gate and laid her hand on it almost caressingly. She had always liked this gate. Her husband and she had often stood at it together. But how cold the wood was to her hand! Still, it was more sheltered here. With an almost rapt look in her eyes she repeated the next verse: -
"And such is the fate of our life's early promise,
So passing the spring-tide of joy we have known; Each wave, that we dance on at morning, ebbs from us,
And leaves us, at eve, on the bleak shore alone."
"A good poem," she thought. "My Philip used to like to hear me say it. Queer how I can remember every word of it this morning. I feel very clear-headed and strong this morning." She turned, facing the wind, and marched back toward the porch.
The cloud had indeed held snow. Now it came, hard and white, dancing on the wind, stinging her cheeks. The air was full of it. Its falling did not ease the bite of the wind as it sometimes does, but made it all the more bitter. She had to put her head down and struggle against it. It filled her cape, so that her body looked huge, and smote her sides. She was out of breath when she gained the porch. But she was proud of herself. She said, aloud: -
"Not many women care to be out on a morning like this - let alone a woman of my age!"
She stood in the shelter of the porch gazing out at the snowstorm. Some flakes hung in her shaggy eyebrows, her shoulders were white with them. She smiled a little, a smile in which there was poignant regret, but no bitterness. Still out of breath, and in a much lower tone, she continued the poem: -
Her memory failed her. She groped in her mind for the next words, while the wind, veering vindictively as though in quest of her, rushed in on her where she stood, scattering the dead leaves and carrying its weight of whiteness. She faced it, as though at bay, and the next lines returned to her. But she said them haltingly: -
A gleam of sunlight flickered into the porch. She gave a triumphant nod of her head, but she realized that she was bitterly cold. She put her hand on the door knob and turned it. The wind, as though coming to her aid, pressed its savage weight upon the door and threw it open, pressed her into the hall.
Try as she would she could not shut the door behind her. The terrier came snuffling from the hot stove and stood beside her. She rapped peremptorily with her stick.
"Eliza! Eliza!" she called. "Come and shut the door!"
Eliza hastened to her aid, crisp in her clean print dress. Her strong bony arms mastered the wind. The door shut with a bang.
The warmth in the hall felt delicious. Adeline gave a proud grin at Eliza.
"I've had a walk, Eliza," she said. "A walk in that wind. Not many women - of my age - would do that, eh?"
"No, indeed, ma'am! It hardly seems safe."
Adeline took off her lace cap and shook the snow from it. "Don't worry, Eliza," she said. "I'm not going to do it again. I'm stuck here in the warmth - for the winter - ha!"
THE END
In Order of Year of Publication
In Order of Year Story Begins
From Mazo de la Roche: Rich and Famous Writer by Heather Kirk
BACK IN PRINT!
Jalna WH ITEOAKS Whiteoaks ofJalna 978-1-894852-23-4 OF JALNA 978-1-894852-24-1 $24.95 V $24.95
The Building of Jalna 978-1-55002-878-2 $24.99
Whiteoak Heritage 978-1-55488-411-7 $24.99
Mary Wakefield 978-1-55002-877-5 $24.99
Available at your favourite bookseller.
MAZO DE LA ROCHE was once
Canada's best-known writer, loved by millions of readers around the world. She created unforgettable characters who come to life for her readers, but she was secretive about her own life. When she died in 1961, her cousin and lifelong companion, Caroline Clement, burned her diaries, adding to the aura of mystery that already surrounded Mazo.
DUNDURN PRESS w w w. d u n d u r n. c o m
Tell us your story! What did you think of this book? Join the conversation at www.definingcanada.ca/tell-your-story by telling us what you think.
Table of Contents
I The Rehearsal
II In the Ravine
III Elvira
IV Sir Edwin and Lady Buckley and Malahide Court
V The Visitor
VI The Child
VII Messenger of Fate
VIII The Whiteoaks Ride Out
IX Meg
X Retirement
XI Slighted Love and Light o' Love
XII The Return
XIII Family Pleasures
XIV Peace in Thy Palaces
XV Maurice and Renny
XVI An Exchange of Presents
XVII Recitation
XVIII Garden Party
XIX A Variety of Scenes
XX An Old Coat and an Old Mare
XXI A Horse to Ride
XXII Rivals
XXIII Woodland Quartette
XXIV The Same Day
XXV Boney
XXVI Tenting Tonight
XXVII The Horse Show
XXVIII Designs of Youth
XXIX Swan Song
XXX The Engagement Ring
XXXI The Last of Malahide
XXXII Winter Comes
04 Young Renny Page 28