A Cry in the WildernessWaller, Mary E. (Mary Ella)
General
A Cry in the Wilderness
Waller, Mary E. (Mary Ella)
New York (N.Y.) -- Fiction; Québec (Province) -- Fiction
"Poor girl, you 've had little chance to hear anything explicit from me
as yet." Mrs. Macleod smiled, rather sadly I thought. "But you shall
know before you go to bed. I could n't be so thoughtless as to keep
you in suspense over night."
"Oh, I can wait," I said; "but what I want to know, Mr. Macleod--"
"Please call me Jamie," he said, imitating my voice and intonation.
"May I?" I replied, mimicking his own. Then we both fell to laughing
like two children, and it seemed to me that I felt what it is to be
young, for the first time in my life. The four dogs wagged their
tails, threshing the floor with them like flails and keeping time to
our hilarity; Mrs. Macleod smiled, almost happily, and Marie came in to
see what it was all about.
"What do you want to know?" he said at last, mopping the tears from his
eyes with his napkin.
"Why you advertised your mother as 'an elderly Scotchwoman'?"
"Because that sounded safe."
Again we laughed, it seemed at almost nothing. The dogs whined as if
wanting to join in what fun there was; the fire snapped merrily on the
hearth, and the large coal-oil lamp, at the farther end of the long
table, sent forth a cheerful light from under its white porcelain
shade, and showed me the old room in all its simple beauty.
Overhead, the great beams and the ceiling were a rich mahogany color
with age. The sides were panelled to the ceiling with the same wood.
Between the two doors opening into the passageway, was a huge but
beautifully proportioned marble chimney-piece that reached to the beams
of the ceiling. The marble was of the highest polish, white, pale
yellow, and brown in tone. Above the mantel, it formed the frame of a
large canvas that showed a time-darkened landscape with mounted
hunters. The whole piece was exquisitely carved with the wild grape
vine--its leaves and fruit.
On each side were old iron sconces. Above the two doors were the
antlers of stags. The room was lighted by four windows; these were
hung with some faded chintz, identical in pattern and color with that
in my bedroom; they were drawn. I wondered, as I looked at this beauty
of simplicity, what the other rooms in the house would show. I noticed
there was no sideboard, no dresser; only the table, and heavy chairs
with wooden seats, furnished the room.
The food was wholesome and abundant. I found myself wondering that I
could eat each mouthful without counting the cost.
"I 'll stay here with the dogs and smoke," Jamie said, as we left the
table.
We crossed the passageway, which I noticed was laid with flagging and
unheated, to the room opposite the dining-room.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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