My Brave and Gallant Gentleman Part 51

CHAPTER XXIII

The Fight in the Woods

I did not engage any one to fill Jake's place, for I felt that no man really could fill it. In any case, with the approach of the wet, wintry weather, the work at Golden Crescent diminished. I did not have the continuous supplies to make ready for the Camps, such as they demanded in the summer months. When they called, they generally took away enough to last them over several weeks. Again, Jake had cut, sawn and stacked all my winter supply of firewood long before he took sick.

Taking all these things into consideration, I decided I would go through the winter, at least, without fresh help.

Mary Grant and Mrs. Malmsbury still remained at the cottage over the way.

Often I asked Mary,--almost in dread,--if she were going away during the stormier months, but she always said she had not made any arrangements so far.

Not once, but many times, I tried to break through the reserve which she had hedged round herself ever since our evening in the lagoon after our first fis.h.i.+ng experience when we had drawn so near in sympathy to each other. I felt afraid lest I should forget myself some time and tell her all that was in my heart craving to be told, for something kept whispering to me that, if I did, I might lose her altogether.

Rita's lessons went on apace. Twice a week she came over in the evenings for instruction. She was quickly nearing the point where I would be of no further service, for I had imparted to her almost all I was capable of imparting in the way of actual grammar.

I hoped to be able to complete her course before Christmas came round.

Then it would be merely a question of selection of reading matter.

Rita's manner of speaking had undergone a wonderful change. There were no slangy expressions now; no "ain'ts" or "I guess"; no plural nouns with singular verbs; no past participles for the past tense; no split infinitives. To all intents and purposes, Rita Clark had taken a course of instruction at a good grammar school.

And what a difference it made in her, generally! Even her dress and her deportment seemed to have changed with her new manner of speaking.

It is always so. The forward progress in any one direction means forward progress in almost every other.

Rita was a sweet, though still impetuous, little maiden that any cultured man might have been proud to have for a wife.

One rainy night, she and I were sitting by the stove in my front room.

I was in an easy chair, with a book in my hand, while Rita was sitting in front of me on a small, carpet-covered stool, leaning sideways against my legs and supposedly doing some paraphrasing. A movement on her part caused me to glance at her.

She had turned and was staring toward the window and her eyes were growing larger and larger every moment. Her face grew pale, while her lips parted and an expression, akin to fear, began to creep into her eyes.

I turned my head hurriedly to the window, but all was dark over there and the rain was pattering and splas.h.i.+ng against the gla.s.s.

Still, Rita sat staring, although the look of fear had gone.

I laid my hand on her shoulder.

"Rita, Rita!--what in the world is wrong?"

"Oh, George,--I,--I saw Joe's face at the window. I never saw him look so angry before," she whispered nervously.

I laughed.

"Why!--you foolish little woman, I looked over there almost as soon as you did, but I saw no one."

"But he was there, I tell you," she repeated.

I rose to go to the door.

"No, no!" she cried. "Don't go."

But I went, nevertheless, throwing the door wide open and getting a gust of wind and rain in my face as I peered out into the night.

I closed the door again and came back to Rita.

"Why! silly little girl, you must have dreamed it. There is no one there."

I tapped her on the cheek.

"I did not know Rita Clark was nervous," I bandied.

She looked dreamily into the fire for a while, then she turned round to me and laid her cheek against my knee.

"George!--Joe's been coming home more and more of late. He's been lots nicer to me than he used to be. He brought me a gold brooch with pearls in it, from Vancouver, to-day."

"Good for him!" I remarked.

"It was a lovely brooch," she went on. "I put it in my dress, it looked so pretty. Then Joe asked me to go with him along the beach.

Said he wanted to talk to me. I went with him, and he asked me if I would marry him.

"Marry him, mind you!--and I have known him all my life.

"He said he didn't know he loved me till just a little while ago. Said it was all a yarn about the other girls he met.

"He was quiet, and soft as could be. I never saw Joe just the way he was to-day. But I don't feel to Joe as I used to. He has sort of killed the liking I once had for him.

"I got angry about the brooch then. I took it off and handed it back to him.

"'Here's your brooch, Joe,' I said. 'I didn't know you gave it to me just to make me marry you. I don't love you, Joe, and I won't marry a man I don't love. You mustn't ask me again. You get somebody else.'

"Big Joe was just like a baby. His face turned white.

"'You're in love with Bremner,' he said, catching me by the wrist. I drew myself away.

"'I'm not,' I said. 'I like him better than I like any other man,--you included,--but I don't love him any more than he loves me.'"

Rita looked up at me and her eyes filled with tears.

"'Ain't Bremner in love with you?' Joe asked.

"'No!' I said.

"Then Joe got terribly mad.

"'By G.o.d in Heaven!' he cried, 'I'll kill that son-of-a-gun, if I hang for it!'

"He meant you, George. He went off into the wood, leaving me standing like a silly.