Agatha turned to him.
"I understand that Gregory is recovering rapidly?" she said.
Wyllard a.s.sured her that Hawtrey was convalescing, and Agatha said quietly, "He wants me to go out to him."
Wyllard felt that if a girl of that sort had promised to marry him he would not have sent for her, but would have come in person, if he had been compelled to pledge his last possessions, or crawl to the tideway on his hands and knees. For all that he was ready to defend his friend.
"I"m afraid it"s necessary," he said. "Gregory was quite unfit for such a journey when I left, and he must be ready to commence the season"s campaign with the first of the spring. Our summer is short, you see, and with our one-crop farming it"s indispensable to get the seed in early.
In fact, he will be badly behind as it is."
This was not particularly tactful, since, without intending it, he made it evident that he felt his comrade had been to some extent remiss; but Agatha smiled.
"Oh," she replied, "I understand! You needn"t labor with excuses. But doesn"t the same thing apply to you?"
"It certainly did. Now, however, things have become a little easier. My holding is larger than Gregory"s, and I have a foreman who can look after it for me."
"Gregory said that you were a great friend of his."
Wyllard seized this opportunity. "He was a great friend of mine and I like to think it means the same thing. In fact it"s reasonably certain that he saved my life for me."
"Ah!" exclaimed Agatha; "that is a thing he didn"t mention. How did it come about?"
Wyllard was glad to tell the story. He was anxious to say all he honestly could in Hawtrey"s favor.
"We were at work on a railroad trestle--a towering wooden bridge, in British Columbia. It stretched across a deep ravine with great boulders and there was a stream in the bottom of it. He stood high up on a staging close beneath the rails. A fast freight, a huge general produce train came down the track, with one of the new big locomotives hauling it, and when the cars went banging by above us we could hardly hold on to the bridge. The construction foreman was a hustler, and we had to get the spikes in. I was swinging the hammer when I felt the plank beneath me slip. The train, it seems, had jarred loose the bolt around which we had our lashings. For a moment I felt that I was going down into the gorge, and then Gregory leaned out and grabbed me. He had only one free hand to do it with, and when he felt my weight one foot swung out from the stringer he had sprung to. It seemed certain that I would pull him with me, too. We hung like that for a s.p.a.ce--I don"t quite know how long."
He paused for a moment, apparently feeling the stress of it again, and there was a faint thrill in his voice when he went on.
"It was then," he said, "I knew just what kind of man Gregory Hawtrey was. Anybody else would have let me go; but he held on. I got my hand on some of the framing, and he swung me on to the stringer."
He saw the gleam in Agatha"s eyes. "Oh!" she cried, "that is just what he must have done. He was like that always--impulsive, splendidly generous."
Wyllard felt that he had succeeded, though he knew that there were men on the prairie who called his comrade slackly careless, instead of impulsive. Agatha spoke again.
"But Gregory wasn"t a carpenter," she said.
"In those days when money was scarce we had to be whatever we could.
There wasn"t much specialization of handicrafts out there then. The farmer whose crop was ruined took up the railroad shovel, or borrowed a saw from somebody and set about building houses, or anything else that was wanted."
"Of course!" replied Agatha. "Besides, he was always wonderfully quick.
He could learn any game by just watching it a while. He did all he undertook brilliantly."
It occurred to Wyllard that Gregory had, at least, made no great success of farming; but that occupation, as practiced on the prairie, demands a great deal more than quickness and what some call brilliancy from the man who undertakes it. He must, as they say out there, possess the capacity for staying with it--the grim courage to hold fast the tighter under each crushing blow, when the grain shrivels under the harvest frost, or when the ragged ice hurtling before a roaring blast does the reaping. It was, however, evident that this girl had an unquestioning faith in Gregory Hawtrey, and once more Wyllard felt compa.s.sionate towards her. He wondered if she would have retained her confidence had Hawtrey spent those four years in England instead of Canada, for it was clear from the contrast between her and her picture that she had grown in many ways since she had given her promise to her lover. He had said what he could in Hawtrey"s favor, but now he felt that something was due to the girl.
"Gregory told me to explain what things are like out there," he said. "I think it is because they are so different from what you are accustomed to that he has waited so long. He wanted to make them as easy as possible for you, and now he would like you to realize what is before you."
He was surprised at the girl"s quick comprehension, for she glanced around the luxurious room with a faint smile.
"You look on me as part of--this? I mean it seems to you that I fit in with my surroundings, and would be in harmony only with them?"
"Yes," answered Wyllard gravely, "I think you fit in with them excellently."
Agatha laughed. "Well," she said, "I was once, to a certain extent, accustomed to something similar; though, after all, one could hardly compare the Grange with Garside Scar. Still, that was some time ago, and I have earned my living for several years now. That counts for something, doesn"t it?"
She glanced down at her dress. "For instance, this is the result of a great deal of self-denial, though the cost of it was partly worked off in music lessons, and the stuff was almost the cheapest I could get. I sang at concerts--and it was part of my stock in trade. After all, why should you think me capable only of living in luxury?"
"I didn"t go quite that far."
She laughed again. "Then is Canada such a very dreadful place? I have heard of other Englishwomen going out there as farmers" wives. Do they all live unhappily?"
"No," replied Wyllard, "at least, they show no sign of it, and some of them and the city-born Canadians are, I think, the salt of this earth.
Probably it"s easy to be calm and gracious in such a place as this--though naturally I don"t know since I"ve never tried it--but when a woman who toils from sunrise to sunset most of the year keeps her sweetness and serenity, it"s a very different and much finer thing. But I"ll try to answer the other question. The prairie isn"t dreadful; it"s a land of sunshine and clear skies. Heat and cold--and we have them both--don"t worry one there. There"s optimism in the crystal air. It"s not beautiful like these valleys, but it has its beauty. It is vast and silent, and, though our homesteads are crude and new, once you pa.s.s the breaking, it"s primevally old. That gets hold of one somehow. It"s wonderful after sunset in the early spring, when the little cold wind is like wine, and it runs white to the horizon with the smoky red on the rim of it melting into transcendental green. When the wheat rolls across the foreground in ocher and burnished copper waves, it is more wonderful still. One sees the fulfillment of the promise, and takes courage."
"Then," asked Agatha, who had scarcely suspected him of such appreciation of nature, "what is there to shrink from?"
"In the case of a small farmer"s wife, the constant, never-slackening strain. There"s no hired a.s.sistance. She must clean the house, and wash, and cook, though it"s not unusual for the men to wash the plates."
The girl evidently was not much impressed, for she laughed.
"Does Gregory wash the plates?" she asked.
Wyllard"s eyes twinkled. "When Sproatly won"t," he said. "Still, in a general way they do it only once a week."
"Ah," observed Agatha, "I can imagine Gregory hating it. As a matter of fact, I like him for it."
"Then the farmer"s wife must bake, and mend her husband"s clothes.
Indeed, it"s not unusual for her to mend for the hired man, too. Besides that, there are always odds and ends of tasks, but the time when you feel the strain most is in the winter. Then you sit at night, shivering as a rule, beside the stove in an almost empty log-walled room, reading a book you have probably read three or four times before. Outside, the frost is Arctic; you can hear the roofing shingles crackle now and then; and you wake up when the fire burns low. There"s no life, no company, rarely a new face, and if you go to a dance or a supper somewhere, perhaps once a month, you ride back on a bob-sled and are frozen almost stiff beneath the robes."
"Still," interposed Agatha, "that does not last."
The man understood her. "Oh!" he said, "one makes progress--that is, if one can stand the strain--but, as the one way of doing it is to sow for a larger harvest and break fresh sod every year, there can be no slackening in the meanwhile. Every dollar must be guarded and plowed into the soil again."
He broke off, feeling that he had done all that could reasonably be expected of him, and Agatha asked one question.
"A woman who didn"t slacken could make the struggle easier for the man, couldn"t she?"
"Yes," Wyllard a.s.sured her, "in every way. Still, she would have a great deal to bear."
Agatha"s face softened. "Ah," she commented, "she would not grudge the effort in the case of one she loved."
She looked up again with a smile. "I wonder," she added, "if you really thought I should flinch."
"When I first heard of it, I thought it quite likely. Then when I read your letter my doubts vanished."
He saw that he had not been judicious, for there was, for the first time, a trace of hardness in the girl"s expression.
"He showed you that?" she asked.