Lords of the North Part 43

"Aye," said he.

"I wish her to hear it personally."

"Aye."

"When may I see her?"

"Ye maun bide patient, lad!"

"But the message is urgent." That was true; for had not forty-eight hours pa.s.sed since I had regained consciousness and I had heard neither her footsteps nor her voice?

"Aye," said the imperturbable father.

"Very urgent, Mr. Sutherland," I added.

"Aye."

"When may I see her, Sir?"

"All in guid time. Ye maun bide quiet, lad."

"The message cannot wait," I declared. "It must be given at once."

"Then deleever it word for word to me, young mon, and I'll trudge off to Frances."

"Your daughter is not at home?"

"What words wu'l ye have me bear to her, lad?" he asked.

That was too much for a youth in a peevish state of convalescence. What lover could send his heart's eloquence by word of mouth with a peppery, prosaic father?

"Tell Mistress Sutherland I must see her at once," I quickly responded with a flash of temper that was ever wont to flare up when put to the test.

"Aye," he answered, with an amused look in the cold, steel eyes. "I'll deleever y'r message when--when"--and he hesitated in a way suggestive of eternity--"I'll deleever y'r message when I see her."

At that I turned my face to the wall in the bitterness of spirit which only the invalid, with all the strength of a man in his whims and the weakness of an infant in his body, knows. I spent a feverish, restless night, with the hard-faced Scotchman watching from his armchair at my bedside. Once, when I suddenly awakened from sleep, or delirium, his eyes were fastened on my face with a gleam of grave kindliness.

"Mr. Sutherland," I cried, with all the impatience of a child, "please tell me, where is your daughter?"

"I sent her to a neighbor, sin' ye came to y'r senses, lad," said he.

"Ye hae kept her about ye night and day sin' ye gaed daft, and losh, mon, ye hae gabbled wild talk enough to turn the head o' ony la.s.sie clean daft. An' ye claver sic' nonsense when ye're daft, what would ye say when ye're sane? Hoots, mon, ye maun learn to haud y'r tongue----"

"Mr. Sutherland," I interrupted in a great heat, quite forgetful of his hospitality, "I'm sorry to be the means of driving your daughter from her home. I beg you to send me back to Fort Douglas----"

"Haud quiet," he ordered with a wave of his hand. "An' wa'd ye have me expose the head of a mitherless bairn to a' the clack o' the auld geese in the settlement? Temper y'r ardor wi' discretion, lad! 'Twas but the day before yesterday she left and she was sair done wi' nursing you and losing of sleep! Till ye're fair y'rsel' again and up, and she's weel and rosy wi' full sleep, bide patient!"

That speech sent my face to the wall again; but this time not in anger.

And that dogged fas.h.i.+on Mr. Sutherland had of taking his own way did me many a good turn. Often have I heard those bragging captains of the Hudson's Bay mercenaries swagger into the little cottage sitting-room, while I lay in bed on the other side of the thin board part.i.tion, and relate to Mr. Sutherland all the incidents of their day's search for me.

"So many pounds sterling for the man who captures the rascal," declares D'Orsonnens.

"Aye, 'tis a goodly price for one poor rattle-pate," says Mr.

Sutherland.

Whereupon, D'Orsonnens swears the price is more than my poor empty head is worth, and proceeds to describe me in terms which Mr. Sutherland will only tolerate when thundered from an orthodox pulpit.

"I'd have ye understand, Sir," he would declare with great dignity, "I'll have no papistical profanity under my roof."

Forthwith, he would show D'Orsonnens the door, lecturing the astonished soldier on the errors of Romanism; for whatever Mr. Sutherland deemed evil, from oaths to theological errors, he attributed directly to the pope.

"The ne'er-do-weel can hawk naething frae me," said he when relating the incident.

Once I heard a Fort Douglas man observe that, as the search had proved futile, I must have fallen into one of the air-holes of the ice.

"Nae doot the headstrong young mon is' gettin' what he deserves. I warrant he's warm in his present abode," answered Mr. Sutherland.

On another occasion D'Orsonnens asked who the man was that Mr.

Sutherland's daughter had been nursing all winter.

"A puir body driven from Fort Douglas by those bloodthirsty villains,"

answered Mr. Sutherland, giving his visitor a strong toddy; and he at once improved the occasion by taking down a volume and reading the French officer a series of selections against Romanism. After that D'Orsonnens came no more.

"I hope I did not tell Nor'-West secrets in a Hudson's Bay house when I was delirious, Mr. Sutherland," I remarked.

The Scotchman had lugged me from bed in a gentle, lumbering, well-meant fas.h.i.+on, and I was sitting up for the first time.

"Ye're no the mon wi' a leak t' y'r mouth. I dinna say, though, ye're aye as discreet wi' the thoughts o' y'r heart as y'r head! Ye need na fash y'r noodle wi' remorse aboot company secrets. I canna say ye'll no fret aboot some other things ye hae told. A' the winter lang, 'twas Frances and stars and spooks and speerits and bogies and statues and graven images--wha' are forbidden by the Holy Scriptures--till the la.s.sie thought ye gane clean daft! 'Twas a bonnie e'e, like silver stars; or a bit blush, like the pippin; or laughter, like a wimplin'

brook; or lips, like posies; or hair, like links o' gold; and mair o'

the like till the la.s.sie came rinnin' oot o' y'r room, fair red wi'

shame! Losh, mon, ye maun keep a still tongue in y'r head and not blab oot y'r thoughts o' a wife till she believes na mon can hae peace wi'out her. I wad na hae ye abate one jot o' all ye think, for her price is far above rubies; but hae a care wi' y'r grand talk! After ye gang to the kirk, lad, na mon can keep that up."

His warning I laughed to the winds, as youth the world over has ever laughed sage counsels of chilling age.

I can compare my recovery only to the swift transition of seasons in those northern lat.i.tudes. Without any lingering spring, the cold grayness of long, tense winter gives place to a radiant sun-burst of warm, yellow light. The uplands have long since been blown bare of snow by the March winds, and through the tangle of matted turf shoot myriad purple cups of the prairie anemone, while the russet gra.s.s takes on emerald tints. One day the last blizzard may be sweeping a white trail of stormy majesty across the prairie; the next a fragrance of flowers rises from the steaming earth and the snow-filled ravines have become miniature lakes reflecting the dazzle of a sunny sky and fleece clouds.

My convalescence was similar to the coming of summer. Without any weary fluctuation from well to ill, and ill to well--which sickens the heart with a deferred hope--all my old-time strength came back with the glow of that year's June sun.

"There's nae accountin' for some wilful folk, lad," was Mr. Sutherland's remark, one evening after I was able to leave my room. "Ye hae risen frae y'r bed like the crocus frae snaw. An' Frances were hangin' aboot y'r pillow, lad, I'm nae sure y'd be up sae dapper and smart."

"I thought my nurse was to return when I was able to be up," I answered, strolling to the cottage door.

"Come back frae the door, lad. Dinna show y'rsel' tae the enemy. There be more speerin' for ye than hae love for y'r health. Have y'r wits aboot ye! Dinna be frettin' y'rsel' for Frances! The la.s.sies aye rin fast enow tae the mon wi' sense to hold his ain!"

With that advice he motioned me to the only armchair in the room, and sitting down on the outer step to keep watch, began reading some theological disputation aloud.

"Odds, lad, ye should see the papist so'diers rin when I hae Calvin by me," he remarked.

"It's a pity you can't lay the theological thunderers on the doorstep to drive stray De Meurons off. Then you could come in and take this chair yourself," I answered, sitting back where no visitor could see me.