Canada -- Fiction; World War, 1914-1918 -- Canada -- Fiction
At the top of the long, gently rising hill the motor pulled up, purring
softly. They all stood up and gazed around about them. “Look back,”
commanded Nora. “It is fifty miles to that prairie rim there.” From
their feet the prairie spread itself in long softly undulating billows
to the eastern horizon, the hollows in shadow, the crests tipped with
the silver of the rising moon. Here and there wreaths of mist lay just
above the shadow lines, giving a ghostly appearance to the hills. “Now
look this way,” said Nora, and they turned about. Away to the west in
a flood of silvery light the prairie climbed by abrupt steps, mounting
ever higher over broken rocky points and rocky ledges, over bluffs of
poplar and dark masses of pine and spruce, up to the grey, bare sides
of the mighty mountains, up to their snow peaks gleaming elusive,
translucent, faintly discernible against the blue of the sky. In the
valley immediately at their feet the waters of the little lake gleamed
like a polished shield set in a frame of ebony. “That's our lake,” said
Nora, “with our house just behind it in the woods. And nearer in that
little bluff is Mrs. Waring-Gaunts home.”
“Papa,” said Jane softly, “we must not keep Mrs. Waring-Gaunt.”
“Thank you, Jane,” said Mrs. Waring-Gaunt. “I fear I must go on.”
“Don't you love it?” inquired Larry enthusiastically and with a touch of
impatience in his voice.
“Oh, yes, it is lovely,” said Jane.
“But, Jane, you will not get wild over it,” said Larry.
“Get wild? I love it, really I do. But why should I get wild over it.
Oh, I know you think, and Papa thinks, that I am awful. He says I have
no poetry in me, and perhaps he is right.”
In a few minutes the car stopped at the door of Mrs. Waring-Gaunt's
house. “I shall just run in for a moment,” said Mrs. Waring-Gaunt.
“Kathleen will want to see you, and perhaps will go home with you. I
shall send her out.”
Out from the vine-shadowed porch into the white light came Kathleen,
stood a moment searching the faces of the party, then moved toward Dr.
Brown with her hands eagerly stretched out. “Oh, Dr. Brown,” she cried,
“it is so good to see you here.”
“But my dear girl, my dear girl, how wonderful you look! Why, you have
actually grown more beautiful than when we saw you last!”
“Oh, thank you, Dr. Brown. And there is Jane,” cried Kathleen, running
around to the other side of the car. “It is so lovely to see you and so
good of you to come to us,” she continued, putting her arms around Jane
and kissing her.
“I wanted to come, you know,” said Jane.
“Yes, it is Jane's fault entirely,” said Dr. Brown. “I confess I
hesitated to impose two people upon you this way, willy-nilly. But Jane
would have it that you would be glad to have us.”
“And as usual Jane was right,” said Larry with emphasis.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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