The End Of The Rainbow Part 33

Roderick looked at her in alarm. "Who told you?" he asked abruptly.

She looked straight across at him and her eyes were very steady, though her colour rose. "Doctor Wells told me. He a.s.sisted, didn't he?"

Roderick's eyes fell. He tried to answer but he sat before her dumb and dismayed. She saw his confusion, and rightly guessed the cause.

Her nature was too simple and direct to pretend, she wanted to tell him the truth and she did not know how.

"Doctor Wells was here last winter," she faltered, as a beginning, then could get no further. Roderick made a desperate effort to regain control of himself, and spoke with an attempt at nonchalance.

"Yes, he told me he was coming. He promised to come and see me too, but he didn't."

"No," she caught a twig of cedar from a branch that brushed her fragrantly as she pa.s.sed. Her fingers trembled as she held it to her lips. "He--he told you he was coming?" she asked.

"Yes," said poor Roderick briefly.

"Then--then, perhaps he told you why?" She was examining the cedar sprig carefully, and Roderick was thankful. He would not have cared for her to see his face just then. She was going to tell him of her renewed engagement he knew.

"Yes, he told me," he said. She was silent for a little, looking away over the ripples of Lake Simcoe to the green arms of the channel that showed the way to Algonquin.

"Would it--would you think it right to tell me what he said?"

"He said," repeated Roderick, wishing miserably that Wells' words did him less credit, "he said that even if a fellow played the fool once in his life that was no reason why he should take it up as a life's profession." He paused and then came out in the boldness of desperation with the rest. "And he said that he was pretty sure he would get a welcome when he came." She flushed at that, and there came a proud sparkle into her eyes.

She sat erect and looked Roderick straight in the eyes. "And now, since you have told me,--and I thank you for it,--I must give you his message. He left one for you."

"Yes?" Roderick braced himself as for a blow.

"Yes, he left a message for you. I did not intend to deliver it but since he confided in you I feel I am doing no harm. He said to tell you the reason he couldn't wait to see you was that he had played the fool once more, and that was when he thought a woman couldn't forget."

She dropped her eyes when she had finished. Her fine courage was gone.

She dipped one trembling hand into the water again and laid it against her hot cheek.

Roderick sat and looked at her for a moment uncomprehending. It took some time to grasp all that her confession meant. When finally its meaning dawned upon him, he drew in a great breath.

"Oh!" he said in a wondering whisper. "I never was so happy in my life!" It was not a very eloquent speech, it did not seem at all relevant, but she seemed to understand. She glanced up for an instant with a shy smile, and then Lawyer Ed with Mrs. Doasyouwouldbedoneby and such a load of water-babies, that they looked as if they might sink into their native caves, came shouting round the point, and bore down upon them.

The sun was sinking into the island maze of Lake Algonquin and the moon was coming up out of Lake Simcoe when the _Inverness_ sailed homeward through the Gates. The little breeze that had danced all day out on the larger lake had gone to sleep here in the shelter of the islands, and Algonquin lay as still as a golden mirror. A faint shimmer of colour was spread over it like a shining veil. It was scarcely discernible where the crystal water lay motionless, but as the _Inverness_ sailed across the delicate web it broke into waves of amber and lilac and rose. The little islands did not seem to touch the water but floated in the air like dream-islands, deep purple and bronze in the shadows. From their depths arose vesper songs. Bob White's silver whistle, clear and sweet, the White throat's long call of "Canada, Canada, Canada," as though the little patriot could never tell all his love and joy in his beautiful home, the loon's eery laugh far away down the golden channel, and the whippoorwill and the cat-bird and the veery in the tree-tops. It was a wonderful night.

As the sunset colours grew fainter, and the moon's silver brightened, the pa.s.sengers became quieter. The Piper went below and listened to the Ancient Mariner spin a yarn, and let the birds along the sh.o.r.e furnish music. The babies fell asleep in the arms of Mrs.

Doasyouwouldbedoneby, lovers drifted away in pairs to retired nooks.

In a quiet corner J. P. Thornton and Lawyer Ed sat and laid once more their final plans for a trip to the Holy Land, certain this time of their realisation. The older people sat by the wheel house and talked of their younger days. Roderick left his father the centre of the group, and went in search of Helen. He found her sitting in a sheltered nook with Gladys. The Perkins baby had fallen asleep in her arms, and as Roderick approached the younger girl lifted the baby to carry him to his mother. He slipped into her seat by Helen's side.

She smiled at him. It seemed quite natural and right that he should take that place without asking permission.

They leaned over the railing, the brightness of the sunset reflected in their faces and talked of many things, of the first time he had seen her here on the _Inverness_, of his hopes and ambitions for a career of greatness, as he had counted greatness, of his chasing the shifting rainbow gold, until a Voice had said "Thus far shalt thou go." He even hinted at the Vision that had come to him when he went down into the Valley named of the Shadow, and of how he knew now the value of that real gold at the end of life's rainbow. And she told him how she too had found her rainbow gold. Its gleam had led her through storms and lonely journeyings, but she had followed, and she had found it at last, found it in the new light of hope that had awakened in many dull eyes in Willow Lane.

They were silent then, there was no more to be said. For the story of each had been the story of the journey that ended in their meeting.

Henceforth, for them, there would be one gleam, and they would follow it together.

They had been slipping past the shadow of Wanda Island and now came out once more into the gold of the sunlight. Algonquin lay before them buried in purpling woods. Away above the little town, beyond the circling forest, and beyond the hills shone the last gleam of the day.

The _Inverness_ was going straight up the track of the Sun.