"How I love the prairie!" she exclaimed, looking out over the vast plain that stretched away to a sky all rose and purple and gold.
A tired smile crept into her mother"s face.
"It has its charm," she said; "but, after all, you have been away at school, and have not seen much of it. One has to do without so much here, and when you have gone through an unvarying round of duties day after day for years, seeing only the same few people and hearing the same opinions, you find it dreary. One longs to meet clever strangers and feel the stir and bustle of life now and then; but instead there comes another care or a fresh responsibility. You don"t realize yet what a bad harvest or a fall in the wheat market means; for, while the men have their troubles, in a settlement like Allenwood, the heaviest burden falls upon the women."
"You must have had to give up a good deal to come here," Beatrice said.
"I loved your father, and I knew that he could not be happy in England,"
was the simple answer.
Beatrice was silent for a few moments. It was the first time she had understood the sacrifice her mother had made, and she was moved to sympathy. Then, in the flighty manner of youth, she changed the subject.
"Oh, I must tell you about dear Mr. Morel!" Catching an alert look in her mother"s eyes, Beatrice laughed. Then, with a quick, impulsive movement, she crossed the floor, took her mother"s face between both her hands, and kissed it. "No," she answered the question that had not been spoken; "Mr. Morel is a lovely old man who lives all alone, with just his servants, at Ash Garth, in a fine old house full of art treasures that seem to have been collected from all over the world. And there"s a rose garden between the lawn and the river, and a big woods all round.
Mr. Morel is charming, and he was particularly kind to me, because he and Uncle Gordon are such great friends."
"Did you see much of him?"
"Oh, yes; and I like him. But, Mother," Beatrice lowered her voice dramatically, "there"s a mystery in his life. I"m sure of it! I asked Uncle Gordon; but if he knew he wouldn"t tell. Then I tried to question Mr. Morel----"
"Why, Beatrice!"
The girl laughed at her mother"s shocked tone.
"Don"t worry, Mother dear. He didn"t know I was questioning him. And I do love a mystery! All I learned was that it has something to do with Canada. Whenever I talked about the prairie he looked so sad, and once I even thought I saw tears in his eyes."
Beatrice"s brows came together in a perplexed frown; then she laughed gently.
"Mysteries have a fascination for me," she said; "I like to puzzle them out. But I must leave you now; for I promised to go see Evelyn this afternoon. I may not get home until late."
Half an hour later Beatrice was in the saddle riding across the bare sweep of prairie to one of the distant homesteads. When she reached the river, the stream was turbid and running fast, but a narrow trail through the poplars on its bank led to the ford, and she urged her horse into it fearlessly. On the other side the trail was very faint, and a stake upon a rise indicated where the crossing was safe. A large gra.s.s fire was burning some miles away, for a tawny cloud of smoke trailed across the plain.
Beatrice spent a pleasant hour with her friend and started home alone as dusk was falling. The sky was clear, and the moon hung some distance above the horizon. A cold breeze had sprung up, and the gra.s.s fire had grown fiercer. Beatrice could see it stretching toward the river in a long red line; and after a while she rode into the smoke. It grew thicker and more acrid; she could not see her way; and her horse was getting frightened. When an orange glare leaped up not far away, the animal broke into a gallop, pulling hard, and after some trouble in stopping it Beatrice changed her direction. She was not afraid of prairie fires, which, as a rule, can be avoided easily, but this one would necessitate her making a round.
She found it difficult to get out of the smoke, and when she reached the river it was at some distance above the stake. She could not ride back, because the fire was moving up from that direction, cutting her off. She glanced dubiously at the water. It ran fast between steep, timber-covered banks. She did not think she could get down to it, and she knew there was only one safe ford. Still, she could not spend the night upon the wrong bank, and the fire was drawing closer all the time.
Worse still, her horse was becoming unmanageable. She rode upstream for a mile; but the river looked deep, and the eddies swirled in a forbidding way; the bank was abrupt and rotten, and Beatrice dared not attempt it. In front, the moon, which was getting higher, threw a clear light upon the water; behind, the smoke rolled up thickly to meet her.
The fire was closing in upon the stream. With his nostrils filled with the sting of the smoke, the horse reared and threatened to dash over the crumbling bank. Beatrice, realizing her danger, turned him back downstream and gave him the rein.
She did not hope to reach the ford--there was a wall of impenetrable fire and smoke between her and the stake; she could not attempt the river where the bank was so steep and the current so swift.
With her own eyes smarting, and her breathing difficult, Beatrice suddenly leaned forward and patted the trembling horse. He had not been able to run far with his lungs full of smoke, and he had now stopped in a moment of indecision.
"Good boy!" she coaxed, in a voice that was not quite steady. "Go a little farther, and then we"ll try the river."
"_h.e.l.lo!_" came out of the darkness; and through the acrid haze she saw a man running toward her.
She hailed him eagerly; but when he reached her she was somewhat disconcerted to notice that he was not, as she had expected, one of the Allenwood settlers.
She saw that he was waiting for her to speak.
"I want to get across, and the fire has driven me from the ford," she said.
"Where are you going?"
"To the Grange."
"By your leave!"
He took the bridle and moved along the bank, though he had some trouble with the frightened horse. When they had gone a few yards he turned toward an awkward slope.
"Is this crossing safe?" Beatrice asked in alarm.
"It"s not good," he answered quietly. "I can take you through."
Beatrice did not know what gave her confidence, because the ford looked dangerous, but she let him lead the stumbling horse down to the water.
The next moment the man was wading knee-deep, and the stream frothed about the horse"s legs. The current was swift and the smoke was thick and biting, but the man went steadily on, and they were some distance from the bank when he turned to her.
"Pick up your skirt," he said bluntly; "it gets steeper."
Beatrice laughed in spite of her danger. The man certainly did not waste words.
When they were nearly across, the moon was suddenly hidden behind a dark cloud, and at that moment the horse lost its footing and made a frantic plunge. Beatrice gasped. But her fright was needless, for her companion had firm control of the animal, and in another few moments they were struggling up the bank.
As they left the timber and came out of the smoke, into the broad moonlight, she told him to stop, for the saddle had slipped in climbing the bank. Then, for the first time, they saw each other clearly.
He was a big man, with a quiet brown face, and Beatrice noticed his start of swift, half-conscious admiration as he looked up at her. It caused her no embarra.s.sment, because she had seen that look on the faces of other men, and knew that she was pretty; but she failed to estimate the effect of her beauty on a man unaccustomed to her type. Sitting with easy grace upon the splendid horse, she had a curiously patrician air.
He noticed her fine calm, the steadiness of her deep-blue eyes, and the delicate chiseling of her features; indeed, he never forgot the picture she made, with the poplars for a background and the moonlight on her face.
"Thank you; I"m afraid you got very wet," she said. "I know my way now."
"You can"t ride on," he answered. "The cinch buckle"s drawn."
"Oh!"
"You"d better come on to my place. My sister will look after you while I fix it." He smiled as he added: "Miss Mowbray, I presume? You may have heard of me--Craig Harding, from the section just outside your line."
"Oh!" Beatrice repeated. "I didn"t know we had neighbors; I have been away. Have you met any of the Allenwood people?"
"A sallow-faced man with dark eyes."
"Kenwyne," said Beatrice. "He"s worth knowing. Anybody else?"
"There was a lad with him; about eighteen, riding a gray horse."
"Yes; my brother Lance."
Harding laughed softly.
"That"s all," he said; "and our acquaintance didn"t go very far."