The Pines of Lory Part 8

"Don't be afraid," he said. "There is no danger."

"But I am not going ash.o.r.e, sir."

He looked toward Miss Marshall, who explained: "Louise is not coming with us. She goes on to Quebec, where I am to meet her in a fortnight."

So they pushed away and rowed off into the fog, waving adieus to the little group that watched them from the _Maid of the North_. Both kept their eyes upon the steamer until a veil of gauze, ethereal but opaque, closed in between them. The sun, still near the horizon, lit up the mist with a golden light, and Pats with the haughty lady seemed floating away into enchanted s.p.a.ce.

Nearing the sh.o.r.e they made out more clearly the coast ahead. This fragment of primeval forest, its rocky sides rising fifty feet or thereabouts above the water, was crowned with gigantic pines, their tops, above the mist, all glowing in the morning light. The two pa.s.sengers regarded this scene in silence, impressed by its savage beauty. The little pier at which they landed, neglected and unsubstantial, seemed barely strong enough to bear their weight.

"Is this the only landing-place?" Pats demanded of the boatswain.

"No, sir. There's another one farther in, but the tide isn't right for it."

Just off the pier stood their trunks, and beside them two boxes and a barrel. Of the three pa.s.sengers, the gladdest to get ash.o.r.e, if one could judge by outward manifestations, was Solomon. He ran and barked and wheeled about, jumping against his master as if to impart some of his own enthusiasm. His joy, while less contagious than he himself desired, produced one good result in causing the lady to unbend a little. At first she merely watched him with amus.e.m.e.nt, then talked and played with him, but not freely and with abandon, only so far as was proper with a dog whose master had become a suspicious character. As the life-boat disappeared toward the invisible steamer, Pats turned to his companion.

"Welcome to this island, Miss Marshall. I am now the host--and your humble and obedient va.s.sal. Shall I hurry on ahead and send down for the baggage? Or shall we go on together and surprise the family?"

Her lips parted to say: "Let us go on together," but she remembered Father Burke and his warning. So she answered, with a glance at the trunks, "Perhaps you should go first. The sooner the baggage is removed the better."

With a little bow of acquiescence Pats turned and climbed the rocky path. She followed, but at a distance, and slowly, that there might be no confusion in his mind as to her desire to walk alone. To make doubly sure she paused about half-way up and listened for a moment to the tumbling of the waves upon the little beach below.

Reaching the top of this path she found herself at the edge of a forest.

It was more like a grove,--a vast grove of primeval pines. Into the shadow of this wood she entered, then stopped, and gazed about. Such trees she had never seen,--an endless vista of gigantic trunks, like the columns of a mighty cathedral, all towering to a vault of green, far above her head. And this effect of an interior--of some boundless temple--was augmented by the smooth, brown floor,--a carpet of pine-needles. With upturned face and half-closed eyes the girl drew a long deep breath. The fragrance of the pines, the sighing of the wind through the canopy above, all were soothing to the senses; and yet, in a dreamy way, they stirred the imagination. This was fairy land--the enchanted forest--the land of poetry and peace--of calm content, far away from common things. And that unending lullaby from above! What music could be sweeter?

From this revery--of longer duration than she realized--she was awakened by a distant voice of a person shouting. She could see Pats off at the end of the point waving his handkerchief and trying to attract the attention of somebody on the water. Perhaps the gardener, or some fisherman.

Walking farther on, into the wood, she became more and more impressed by the solemn beauty of this paradise. And the carpet of pine-needles seemed placed there with kind intent as if to insure a deeper silence.

She resolved to spend much of her time in these woods, and, even now, she found herself almost regretting the proximity of her friends.

In the distance, between the trunks of the trees, came glimpses, first of Solomon, then of his master, moving hastily about as if on urgent business. She smiled, a superior, tolerant smile at the inconsistency--and the sacrilege--of haste or of any kind of business in the sacred twilight of this grove, this realm of peace. And so, she strolled about, resting at intervals, inhaling the odors of the pines, and dreaming dreams.

In these reveries came no thoughts of time until she saw the enemy--Pats--approaching. His silent footsteps on the smooth, brown carpet made him seem but a spirit of the wood,--some unsubstantial denizen of this enchanted region. But in his face and manner there was something that dispelled all dreams. He stopped before her, out of breath. "There is no house here!"

With a frown of dismay she took a backward step. Indicating by a gesture the cottage out upon the point, she said:

"The house we saw from the boat; what is that?"

"I cannot imagine. But it is no gardener's cottage."

"Then what is it?"

"Heaven knows," he answered with a joyless smile. "It looks like a room in a museum, or a bric-a-brac shop."

"But how do you know there is no other house?"

"I have been over the whole point. I climbed that cliff, behind there, and got a view of the country all about. There is not a house in sight."

"Impossible!"

"Nor a settlement of any kind."

"Surely, somebody can give us information."

"So it would seem, but I have hunted in vain for a human being."

"The people you were calling to from the cliff, couldn't they tell you something?"

"There were no people there. I was trying to stop the steamer."

She regarded him in fresh alarm. "Do you mean they have landed us out of our way?--at the wrong place?"

He hesitated. "I am not sure. But we can always get the people of this cottage to take us along in their boat. It is still early; only nine o'clock."

As they walked toward the cottage she noticed that he was short of breath and that he seemed tired. But his manner was cheerful, even inspiriting, and while she took care to remember that he was still in disgrace, she felt her own courage reviving under the influence of his livelier spirits. Besides, as they stepped out of the woods into the open s.p.a.ce at the southern end of the point,--a s.p.a.ce about two acres in extent and covered with gra.s.s,--and saw the blue sea on three sides, she found new life in the air that came against her face. In deep breaths she inhaled this air. Turning her eyes to her left she beheld for the first time the front of the building they had sighted from the steamer.

This building, one story high, of rough stone, was nearly sixty feet long by about thirty feet in width.

"What a fascinating cottage!" she exclaimed. "It is almost covered with ivy!"

"Yes, it is picturesque, and I am curious to see the sort of family that lives in such a place."

"Is no one there now?"

"n.o.body."

"Nor anywhere near?"

"No. I have looked in every direction--and shouted in every direction.

They are probably off in their boat."

As Pats and Elinor approached the building and stood for a moment before the door, a squad of hens and chickens, most of them white, began to gather about. They seemed very trusting and not at all afraid. The guiding spirit of the party--a tall, self-conscious rooster, attired, apparently, in a scarlet cap, a light gray suit with voluminous knickerbockers, and yellow stockings--studied the new-comers, with his head to one side, expressing himself in sarcastic gutturals.

"That fellow," said Pats, "seems to be making side remarks about us, and they are not complimentary."

His companion paid no attention to this speech. She had regretted her enthusiasm over the cottage. Enthusiasm might foster a belief that she was enjoying his society. So she remarked, in a colder tone, "I think you had better knock."

He knocked. They listened in silence. He knocked again. Still no answer.

Then he opened the door and entered, she following cautiously. After one swift, comprehensive survey, she turned to him in amazement. He was watching her, expecting this effect.

The interior of the building was practically a single room. From the objects contained it might be the hall of a palace, or of an old chateau--or of a gallery in some great museum. On the walls hung splendid tapestries and rare old paintings. Beneath them stood Italian cabinets of superb design, a marriage chest, a Louis XV. sofa in gilt, upholstered with Beauvais tapestry, chairs and bergere to match.

Scattered about were vases in old Sevres, clocks in ormolu, miniatures, and the innumerable objects of ancestral and artistic value pertaining to a n.o.ble house. Over all lay the mellowness of age, those harmonies of color that bewitch the antiquary.

Dumfounding it certainly was, the sudden transition from primeval nature without to this sumptuous interior. Conspicuous in the sombre richness of these treasures were two marble busts, standing on either side of the great tapestry fronting the door. They were splendid works of art, larger than life, and represented a lofty individual who might have been a marshal of France with the Grand Conde, and an equally exalted personage, presumably his wife. These impressive ancestors rested on pedestals of Sienna marble.

Elinor Marshall found no words to express her amazement. She stood in silence, her eyes, in a sort of bewilderment, moving rapidly about the room. At last in a low, awe-struck voice she said:

"Have you no idea what it all means?"

"None whatever. But I am sure of one thing, that it has nothing to do with Boyd's Island. If such a house as this were anywhere within reach of my sisters, they surely would have mentioned it."