diff --git a/bin/gpClient.cmd b/bin/gpClient.cmd new file mode 100644 index 00000000..3114dc26 --- /dev/null +++ b/bin/gpClient.cmd @@ -0,0 +1,227 @@ +@echo off +setlocal enabledelayedexpansion + +set BINFILE=%~f0 +if "%BINFILE%"=="" ( + set BINFILE=%0 +) + + +for %%I in ("%BINFILE%") do set BINDIR=%%~dpI + +set BINDIR=%BINDIR:~0,-1% + +pushd %BINDIR%\.. +set HEAD=%CD% +popd + + +set VERBOSE=1 +set FILESET= + +for %%F in ("%HEAD%\jars\*.jar" "%HEAD%\jars\*.class") do ( + if exist %%F ( + for %%I in (%%F) do ( + set "FILESET=!FILESET! %%~fI" + ) + ) +) + +set FILESET=%FILESET:~1% + +set "DEFAULT_GP_CLASSPATH=" +for %%F in (%FILESET%) do ( + set "DEFAULT_GP_CLASSPATH=!DEFAULT_GP_CLASSPATH!;%%F" +) +set "DEFAULT_GP_CLASSPATH=!DEFAULT_GP_CLASSPATH:~1!" + +set "DEV_MODE=1" +set "ENABLE_ASSERTS=" +if "%DEV_MODE%"=="1" ( + set "DEFAULT_GP_CLASSPATH=%HEAD%\build\classes;%HEAD%\build\test\classes;%DEFAULT_GP_CLASSPATH%" + set "ENABLE_ASSERTS=-ea" +) + +set "CLASSPATH=%DEFAULT_GP_CLASSPATH%" +set CONF=conf +set CONFDIR=%HEAD%\%CONF% + + +set DEFAULT_LOG_PROPERTIES=logging.properties +call :SET_DEFAULT_CONF %DEFAULT_LOG_PROPERTIES% +set LOG_PROPERTIES=%retval% + +set DEFAULT_LOG4J_PROPERTIES=log4j.properties +call :SET_DEFAULT_CONF %DEFAULT_LOG4J_PROPERTIES% +set LOG4J_PROPERTIES=%retval% + +set DEFAULT_GP_PROPERTIES=gigapaxos.properties +call :SET_DEFAULT_CONF %DEFAULT_GP_PROPERTIES% +set GP_PROPERTIES=%retval% + +call :SET_DEFAULT_CONF "keyStore.jks" +set KEYSTORE=%retval% + +call :SET_DEFAULT_CONF "trustStore.jks" +set TRUSTSTORE=%retval% + +set "ACTIVE=active" +set "RECONFIGURATOR=reconfigurator" + +set "SSL_OPTIONS= -Djavax.net.ssl.keyStorePassword=qwerty -Djavax.net.ssl.keyStore=%KEYSTORE% -Djavax.net.ssl.trustStorePassword=qwerty -Djavax.net.ssl.trustStore=%TRUSTSTORE%" + +set ARGS_EXCEPT_CLASSPATH= + +for %%A in (%*) do ( + set "arg=%%~A" + if "!arg!"=="-cp" ( + set skip_next=1 + ) else if "!arg!"=="-classpath" ( + set skip_next=1 + ) else if defined skip_next ( + set skip_next= + ) else ( + set "ARGS_EXCEPT_CLASSPATH=!ARGS_EXCEPT_CLASSPATH! %%A" + ) +) + +set "ARGS_EXCEPT_CLASSPATH=!ARGS_EXCEPT_CLASSPATH:~1!" + +set CLASSPATH_SUPPLIED= +for %%A in (%*) do ( + set "arg=%%~A" + if "!arg!"=="-cp" ( + set skip_next=1 + ) else if "%%A"=="-classpath" ( + set skip_next=1 + ) else if defined skip_next ( + set "CLASSPATH_SUPPLIED=!arg!" + ) +) + +if not "%CLASSPATH_SUPPLIED%"=="" ( + set CLASSPATH=%CLASSPATH_SUPPLIED%;%CLASSPATH% +) + +set DEFAULT_CLIENT_ARGS= +for %%A in (%*) do ( + set "arg=%%~A" + if not "!arg:~0,2!"=="-D" ( + set "DEFAULT_CLIENT_ARGS=!DEFAULT_CLIENT_ARGS! !arg!" + ) +) + +set "DEFAULT_CLIENT_ARGS=!DEFAULT_CLIENT_ARGS:~1!" + +for %%A in (%ARGS_EXCEPT_CLASSPATH%) do ( + set "arg=%%~A" + echo !arg! | findstr /r /c:"^-D.*=" >nul + if !errorlevel! == 0 ( + for /f "tokens=1,2 delims==" %%i in ("!arg:-D=!") do ( + set "key=%%i" + set "value=%%j" + ) + if "!key!" == "gigapaxosConfig" ( + set "GP_PROPERTIES=%HEAD%\!value!" + ) + ) +) + +if "%GP_PROPERTIES%"=="" ( + goto error +) + +goto end + +:error +echo Error: Unable to find file %DEFAULT_GP_PROPERTIES% >&2 +exit /b 1 + +:end + +set "ARGS_EXCEPT_CLASSPATH_=" +for %%A in (%ARGS_EXCEPT_CLASSPATH%) do ( + set "arg=%%~A" + set "ARGS_EXCEPT_CLASSPATH_=!ARGS_EXCEPT_CLASSPATH_! !arg!" +) +set "ARGS_EXCEPT_CLASSPATH_=!ARGS_EXCEPT_CLASSPATH_:~1!" +set "DEFAULT_JVMARGS= %ENABLE_ASSERTS% -classpath %CLASSPATH% -Djava.util.logging.config.file=%LOG_PROPERTIES% -Dlog4j.configuration=log4j.properties -DgigapaxosConfig=%GP_PROPERTIES%" + +set "JVM_APP_ARGS=%DEFAULT_JVMARGS% !ARGS_EXCEPT_CLASSPATH_!" + +set "APP=" +for /f "usebackq tokens=*" %%A in ("%GP_PROPERTIES%") do ( + set "line=%%A" + if not "!line:~0,1!" == "#" ( + echo !line! | findstr /r /c:"^[ \t]*APPLICATION=" >nul + if not errorlevel 1 ( + for /f "tokens=2 delims==" %%B in ("!line!") do ( + set "APP=%%B" + ) + ) + ) +) +for /f "tokens=* delims= " %%C in ("!APP!") do set "APP=%%C" + +if "%APP%"=="" ( + set "APP=edu.umass.cs.reconfiguration.examples.noopsimple.NoopApp" +) + +set "DEFAULT_CLIENT=" +if "%APP%"=="edu.umass.cs.gigapaxos.examples.noop.NoopPaxosApp" if "%DEFAULT_CLIENT_ARGS%"=="" ( + set "DEFAULT_CLIENT=edu.umass.cs.gigapaxos.examples.noop.NoopPaxosAppClient" +) else if "%APP%"=="edu.umass.cs.reconfiguration.examples.noopsimple.NoopApp" if "%DEFAULT_CLIENT_ARGS%"=="" ( + set "DEFAULT_CLIENT=edu.umass.cs.reconfiguration.examples.NoopAppClient" +) + +if "%DEFAULT_CLIENT%"=="" ( + set "showUsage=false" + if "%~1"=="" ( + set "showUsage=true" + goto :showUsage + ) else ( + for %%A in (%*) do ( + set "arg=%%~A" + if "!argg!"=="-help" ( + set "showUsage=true" + goto :showUsage + ) + ) + ) + + :showUsage + if "%showUsage%"=="true" ( + echo Usage: .\gpClient.cmd [JVMARGS] CLIENT_CLASS_NAME + echo Example: .\gpClient.cmd -cp jars\myclient.jar edu.umass.cs.reconfiguration.examples.NoopAppClient + exit /b + ) + +) + +echo java %SSL_OPTIONS% %JVM_APP_ARGS% %DEFAULT_CLIENT% +java %SSL_OPTIONS% %JVM_APP_ARGS% %DEFAULT_CLIENT% + + + + +:SET_DEFAULT_CONF +set default=%~1 + +if exist %CONFDIR%\%default% ( + set "returnValue=%CONFDIR%\%default%" +) else ( + for %%I in (%CONFDIR%\%default%) do ( + if exist "%%~fI" ( + for /f "tokens=*" %%J in ('powershell -command "(Get-Item -Path %%I).Target"') do ( + set linkTarget=%%J + ) + if exist "!linkTarget!" ( + set returnValue=!linkTarget! + ) + ) + ) +) +set "retval=%returnValue%" +goto :EOF + +endlocal \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/bin/gpEnv.cmd b/bin/gpEnv.cmd new file mode 100644 index 00000000..70c0eed2 --- /dev/null +++ b/bin/gpEnv.cmd @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +set "SSH_KEY=C:\Users\priya\Documents\Prateek_Bhindwar\gigapaxos\test2_keypair" +set "SSH_LOC=C:\DeltaCopy\ssh.exe" +set "INSTALL_PATH_PREFIX=" +set "RSYNC_COMMAND=C:\DeltaCopy\rsync.exe" \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/bin/gpServer.cmd b/bin/gpServer.cmd new file mode 100644 index 00000000..db3d3820 --- /dev/null +++ b/bin/gpServer.cmd @@ -0,0 +1,763 @@ +@echo off + +setlocal enabledelayedexpansion +set "APP_ARGS_KEY=appArgs" +set "APP_RESOURCES_KEY=appResourcePath" +set "DEBUG_KEY=debug" + +set "keywords=start stop restart clear forceclear" +set "found=" + +if "%~1"=="" ( + set "found=" +) else ( + for %%i in (%*) do ( + for %%j in (%keywords%) do ( + if "%%i"=="%%j" ( + set found=1 + ) + ) + ) +) +set scriptDir=%~dp0 +for %%a in ("%scriptDir:~0,-1%") do ( + set parentDir=%%~nxa +) + +set "SCRIPT_FILENAME=%parentDir%\%~nx0" +if not defined found ( + echo Usage: %SCRIPT_FILENAME% [JVMARGS] [-D%APP_RESOURCES_KEY%=APP_RESOURCES_DIR] [-D%APP_ARGS_KEY%="APP_ARGS"] [-%DEBUG_KEY%] ^stop^|^start^|^restart^|^clear^|^forceclear all^|server_names + echo Examples: + echo .\%SCRIPT_FILENAME% start AR1 + echo .\%SCRIPT_FILENAME% start AR1 AR2 RC1 + echo .\%SCRIPT_FILENAME% start all + echo .\%SCRIPT_FILENAME% stop AR1 RC1 + echo .\%SCRIPT_FILENAME% stop all + echo .%SCRIPT_FILENAME% "-DgigapaxosConfig=\path\to\gigapaxos.properties" start all + echo .\%SCRIPT_FILENAME% -cp myjars1.jar;myjars2.jar "-DgigapaxosConfig=\path\to\gigapaxos.properties" "-D%APP_RESOURCES_KEY%=\path\to\app\resources\dir\" "-D%APP_ARGS_KEY%=""-opt1=val1 -flag2 -str3=\""quoted arg example\"" -n 50"" " -%DEBUG_KEY% start all + echo Note: -%DEBUG_KEY% option is insecure and should only be used during testing and development. + exit /b 0 +) + +set BINFILE=%~f0 +if "%BINFILE%"=="" ( + set BINFILE=%0 +) + + +for %%I in ("%BINFILE%") do set BINDIR=%%~dpI + +set BINDIR=%BINDIR:~0,-1% + +call "%BINDIR%"\gpEnv.cmd + +pushd %BINDIR%\.. +set HEAD=%CD% +popd + +set FILESET= + +for %%F in ("%HEAD%\jars\*.jar" "%HEAD%\jars\*.class") do ( + if exist %%F ( + for %%I in (%%F) do ( + set "FILESET=!FILESET! %%~fI" + ) + ) +) + +set FILESET=%FILESET:~1% + +set "DEFAULT_GP_CLASSPATH=" +for %%F in (%FILESET%) do ( + set "DEFAULT_GP_CLASSPATH=!DEFAULT_GP_CLASSPATH!;%%F" +) +set "DEFAULT_GP_CLASSPATH=!DEFAULT_GP_CLASSPATH:~1!" + +set "DEV_MODE=1" +set "ENABLE_ASSERTS=" +if "%DEV_MODE%"=="1" ( + if exist %HEAD%\build\classes ( + set "DEFAULT_GP_CLASSPATH=%HEAD%\build\classes;%DEFAULT_GP_CLASSPATH%" + ) + if exist %HEAD%\build\test\classes ( + set "DEFAULT_GP_CLASSPATH=%HEAD%\build\test\classes;%DEFAULT_GP_CLASSPATH%" + ) + set "ENABLE_ASSERTS=-ea" +) + +set "CLASSPATH=%DEFAULT_GP_CLASSPATH%" + +set CONF=conf +set CONFDIR=%HEAD%\%CONF% + + +set DEFAULT_LOG_PROPERTIES=logging.properties +call :SET_DEFAULT_CONF %DEFAULT_LOG_PROPERTIES% +set LOG_PROPERTIES=%retval% + +set DEFAULT_LOG4J_PROPERTIES=log4j.properties +call :SET_DEFAULT_CONF %DEFAULT_LOG4J_PROPERTIES% +set LOG4J_PROPERTIES=%retval% + +set DEFAULT_GP_PROPERTIES=gigapaxos.properties +call :SET_DEFAULT_CONF %DEFAULT_GP_PROPERTIES% +set GP_PROPERTIES=%retval% + +set "APP_RESOURCES=" +set "APP_ARGS=" + +set "DEFAULT_KEYSTORE=keyStore.jks" +call :SET_DEFAULT_CONF %DEFAULT_KEYSTORE% +set KEYSTORE=%retval% + +set "DEFAULT_TRUSTSTORE=trustStore.jks" +call :SET_DEFAULT_CONF %DEFAULT_TRUSTSTORE% +set TRUSTSTORE=%retval% + +set VERBOSE=2 +set "JAVA=java" +set "ACTIVE_KEYWORD=active" +set "RECONFIGURATOR_KEYWORD=reconfigurator" +set "DEFAULT_APP_RESOURCES=app_resources" +set "DEFAULT_KEYSTORE_PASSWORD=qwerty" +set "DEFAULT_TRUSTSTORE_PASSWORD=qwerty" +set DEBUG_MODE=false +set DEBUG_PORT=10000 + +set "ARGS_EXCEPT_CLASSPATH_DEBUG=" + +for %%A in (%*) do ( + set "arg=%%~A" + if not "!arg!"=="-%DEBUG_KEY%" ( + if "!arg!"=="-cp" ( + set skip_next=1 + ) else if "!arg!"=="-classpath" ( + set skip_next=1 + ) else if defined skip_next ( + set skip_next= + ) else ( + set "ARGS_EXCEPT_CLASSPATH_DEBUG=!ARGS_EXCEPT_CLASSPATH_DEBUG! %%A" + ) + ) +) +set "ARGS_EXCEPT_CLASSPATH_DEBUG=!ARGS_EXCEPT_CLASSPATH_DEBUG:~1!" +set "temp_args=" +for %%A in (%ARGS_EXCEPT_CLASSPATH_DEBUG%) do ( + set "arg=%%A" + if "%arg%"=="-%APP_ARGS_KEY%" ( + goto: skip_remaining_args + ) else ( + set "temp_args=!temp_args! %%A" + ) +) +:skip_remaining_args + +set "SUPPLIED_JVMARGS=" +for %%A in (%temp_args%) do ( + set "arg=%%~A" + if "!arg!"=="start" set "res=T" + if "!arg!"=="stop" set "res=T" + if "!arg!"=="restart" set "res=T" + if "!arg!"=="clear" set "res=T" + if "!arg!"=="forceclear" set "res=T" + + if "!res!"=="T" ( + goto :done + ) else ( + set "SUPPLIED_JVMARGS=!SUPPLIED_JVMARGS! %%A" + ) +) +:done + +set SUPPLIED_JVMARGS=%SUPPLIED_JVMARGS:~1% + +set "ARG_CLASSPATH=" +for %%A in (%*) do ( + if "%%A"=="-cp" ( + set skip_next=1 + ) else if "%%A"=="-classpath" ( + set skip_next=1 + ) else if defined skip_next ( + set ARG_CLASSPATH=%%A + ) +) + +if not "%ARG_CLASSPATH%"=="" ( + set CLASSPATH=%ARG_CLASSPATH%;%CLASSPATH% +) + +set index=1 +set "args=" +for %%A in (%*) do ( + set "arg=%%~A" + echo !arg! | findstr /r /c:"^-D.*=" >nul + if !errorlevel! == 0 ( + for /f "tokens=1,2 delims==" %%i in ("!arg:-D=!") do ( + set "key=%%i" + set "value=%%j" + ) + if "!key!" == "gigapaxosConfig" ( + set "GP_PROPERTIES=%HEAD%\!value!" + ) else if "!key!" == "%APP_RESOURCES_KEY%" ( + set "APP_RESOURCES=!value!" + ) else if "!key!" == "%APP_ARGS_KEY%" ( + set "APP_ARGS=!value!" + ) + ) else if "!arg!"=="-%DEBUG_KEY%" ( + set DEBUG_MODE=true + ) else ( + set "res=" + if "!arg!"=="start" set "res=T" + if "!arg!"=="stop" set "res=T" + if "!arg!"=="restart" set "res=T" + if "!arg!"=="clear" set "res=T" + if "!arg!"=="forceclear" set "res=T" + + if "!res!"=="T" ( + set i=1 + for %%A in (%*) do ( + if !i! geq !index! ( + set "args=!args! %%A" + ) + set /A i+=1 + ) + set args=!args:~1! + ) + ) + set /A index+=1 +) +if "%GP_PROPERTIES%"=="" ( + goto error +) + +goto end + +:error +echo Error: Unable to find file %DEFAULT_GP_PROPERTIES% >&2 +exit /b 1 + +:end + +if "!APP_RESOURCES:~-1!"=="\" set "APP_RESOURCES=!APP_RESOURCES:~0,-1!" +for %%I in ("%APP_RESOURCES%") do set "APP_RESOURCES_SIMPLE=%%~nxI" + +set "APP=" +for /f "usebackq tokens=*" %%A in ("%GP_PROPERTIES%") do ( + set "line=%%A" + if not "!line:~0,1!" == "#" ( + echo !line! | findstr /r /c:"^[ \t]*APPLICATION=" >nul + if not errorlevel 1 ( + for /f "tokens=2 delims==" %%B in ("!line!") do ( + set "APP=%%B" + ) + ) + ) +) +for /f "tokens=* delims= " %%C in ("!APP!") do set "APP=%%C" + +if "%APP%"=="" ( + set "APP=edu.umass.cs.reconfiguration.examples.noopsimple.NoopApp" +) + +for %%I in (%APP:.= %) do set "INSTALL_PATH=%%~nxI" + + +set curr_ind=0 +for %%A in (%args%) do ( + set /A curr_ind+=1 + set "arg=%%~A" + if !curr_ind! equ 1 ( + set "arg_pos_1=!arg!"\ + ) + if !curr_ind! equ 2 ( + set "arg_pos_2=!arg!" + goto :found_arg + ) +) +:found_arg + +set "reconfigurators=" +set "actives=" +set "servers=" +if "%arg_pos_2%"=="all" ( + for /f "usebackq tokens=*" %%A in ("%GP_PROPERTIES%") do ( + set "line=%%A" + if "!line:~0,1!" neq "#" ( + echo !line! | findstr /r /c:"^[ \t]*%RECONFIGURATOR_KEYWORD%" >nul + if not errorlevel 1 ( + set "line2=!line:~15!" + for /f "delims==" %%B in ("!line2!") do ( + set "reconfigurator=%%B" + set "reconfigurators=!reconfigurators! !reconfigurator!" + ) + ) + echo !line! | findstr /r /c:"^[ \t]*%ACTIVE_KEYWORD%" >nul + if not errorlevel 1 ( + set "line3=!line:~7!" + for /f "delims==" %%B in ("!line3!") do ( + set "active=%%B" + set "actives=!actives! !active!" + ) + ) + ) + ) + set "actives=!actives:~1!" + set "servers=!actives!!reconfigurators!" +) else ( + set curr_ind=0 + for %%A in (%args%) do ( + set /A curr_ind+=1 + set "arg=%%A" + if !curr_ind! geq 2 ( + set "servers=!servers! !arg!" + ) + ) + set "servers=!servers:~1!" +) +echo servers=[%servers%] + +call :get_file_list %* +call :trim_file_list "%conf_transferrables%" + +set "conf_transferrables_cygwin=" +for %%A in (%conf_transferrables%) do ( + set "currFile=%%~A" + set "win_path=!currFile:\=/!" + if "!win_path:~1,1!"==":" ( + set "drive=!win_path:~0,1!" + set "path_rest=!win_path:~2!" + set "cyg_path=/cygdrive/!drive!!path_rest!" + ) else ( + set "cyg_path=!win_path!" + ) + set "conf_transferrables_cygwin=!conf_transferrables_cygwin! !cyg_path!" +) +set "conf_transferrables_cygwin=%conf_transferrables_cygwin:~1%" + + + +set "SSH=ssh -x -o StrictHostKeyChecking=no -i %SSH_KEY%" +set "RSYNC_PATH=mkdir -p %INSTALL_PATH% %INSTALL_PATH%/%CONF% %INSTALL_PATH%/jars" +set "RSYNC=""%RSYNC_COMMAND%"" --force -aL" +set "RSYNC_SSH_INFO='%SSH_LOC%' -x -o StrictHostKeyChecking=no -i %SSH_KEY%" + +set "username=" +for /f "usebackq tokens=*" %%A in ("%GP_PROPERTIES%") do ( + set "line=%%A" + if "!line:~0,1!" neq "#" ( + echo !line! | findstr /r /c:"^[ \t]*USERNAME=" >nul + if not errorlevel 1 ( + for /f "tokens=2 delims==" %%B in ("!line!") do ( + set "username=%%B" + ) + ) + ) +) +if "%username%"=="" ( + set "username=whoami" +) + +set "LINK_CMD=" +call :append_to_ln_cmd %GP_PROPERTIES% %DEFAULT_GP_PROPERTIES% +call :append_to_ln_cmd %KEYSTORE% %DEFAULT_KEYSTORE% +call :append_to_ln_cmd %TRUSTSTORE% %DEFAULT_TRUSTSTORE% +call :append_to_ln_cmd %LOG_PROPERTIES% %DEFAULT_LOG_PROPERTIES% +call :append_to_ln_cmd %LOG4J_PROPERTIES% %DEFAULT_LOG4J_PROPERTIES% +call :append_to_ln_cmd %APP_RESOURCES% %DEFAULT_APP_RESOURCES% true + + +set "LOCAL_SSL_KEYFILES=-Djavax.net.ssl.keyStore=%KEYSTORE% -Djavax.net.ssl.trustStore=%TRUSTSTORE%" +set keyStoreSimpleName= +call :get_simple_name %KEYSTORE% +set keyStoreSimpleName=%res% +set trustStoreSimpleName= +call :get_simple_name %TRUSTSTORE% +set trustStoreSimpleName=%res% +set "REMOTE_SSL_KEYFILES=-Djavax.net.ssl.keyStore=%keyStoreSimpleName% -Djavax.net.ssl.trustStore=%trustStoreSimpleName%" + +set "COMMON_JVMARGS=%ENABLE_ASSERTS% -Djavax.net.ssl.keyStorePassword=%keyStorePassword% -Djavax.net.ssl.trustStorePassword=%trustStorePassword%" + +set "DEFAULT_JVMARGS=-cp %CLASSPATH% %COMMON_JVMARGS% %LOCAL_SSL_KEYFILES% -Djava.util.logging.config.file=%LOG_PROPERTIES% -Dlog4j.configuration=%LOG4J_PROPERTIES% -DgigapaxosConfig=%GP_PROPERTIES%" + +set "JVMARGS=%DEFAULT_JVMARGS% %SUPPLIED_JVMARGS%" + +set logPropSimpleName= +call :get_simple_name %LOG_PROPERTIES% +set logPropSimpleName=%res% +set log4jPropSimpleName= +call :get_simple_name %LOG4J_PROPERTIES% +set log4jPropSimpleName=%res% +set defGpSimpleName= +call :get_simple_name %DEFAULT_GP_PROPERTIES% +set defGpSimpleName=%res% + +set "DEFAULT_REMOTE_JVMARGS=%COMMON_JVMARGS% %REMOTE_SSL_KEYFILES% -Djava.util.logging.config.file=%logPropSimpleName% -Dlog4j.configuration=%log4jPropSimpleName% -DgigapaxosConfig=%defGpSimpleName%" + +set "REMOTE_JVMARGS=%SUPPLIED_JVMARGS% %DEFAULT_REMOTE_JVMARGS%" +set "REMOTE_JVMARGS=%REMOTE_JVMARGS:\=/%" +set "REMOTE_JVMARGS=%REMOTE_JVMARGS:"=%" + + +if "%arg_pos_1%" == "start" ( + call :start_servers +) else if "%arg_pos_1%" == "restart" ( + call :stop_servers + call :start_servers +) else if "%arg_pos_1%" == "stop" ( + call :stop_servers +) else if "%arg_pos_1%" == "clear" ( + call :clear_all %* +) else if "%arg_pos_1%" == "forceclear" ( + call :clear_all %* +) + +:SET_DEFAULT_CONF +set default=%~1 + +if exist %CONFDIR%\%default% ( + set "returnValue=%CONFDIR%\%default%" +) else ( + for %%I in (%CONFDIR%\%default%) do ( + if exist "%%~fI" ( + for /f "tokens=*" %%J in ('powershell -command "(Get-Item -Path %%I).Target"') do ( + set linkTarget=%%J + ) + if exist "!linkTarget!" ( + set returnValue=!linkTarget! + ) + ) + ) +) +set "retval=%returnValue%" +goto :EOF + +:get_file_list +set cmdline_args=%* +set "jar_files=%CLASSPATH:;= %" +set "jar_files_cygwin=" +for %%A in (%jar_files%) do ( + set "currFile=%%~A" + set "win_path=!currFile:\=/!" + if "!win_path:~1,1!"==":" ( + set "drive=!win_path:~0,1!" + set "path_rest=!win_path:~2!" + set "cyg_path=/cygdrive/!drive!!path_rest!" + ) else ( + set "cyg_path=!win_path!" + ) + set "jar_files_cygwin=!jar_files_cygwin! !cyg_path!" +) +set "jar_files_cygwin=%jar_files_cygwin:~1%" + +call :get_value "javax.net.ssl.keyStore" "!cmdline_args:"=""!" "%KEYSTORE%" +set KEYSTORE=%value% +call :get_value "javax.net.ssl.keyStorePassword" "!cmdline_args:"=""!" "%DEFAULT_KEYSTORE_PASSWORD%" +set keyStorePassword=%value% +call :get_value "javax.net.ssl.trustStore" "!cmdline_args:"=""!" "%TRUSTSTORE%" +set TRUSTSTORE=%value% +call :get_value "javax.net.ssl.trustStorePassword" "!cmdline_args:"=""!" "%DEFAULT_TRUSTSTORE_PASSWORD%" +set trustStorePassword=%value% +call :get_value "java.util.logging.config.file" "!cmdline_args:"=""!" "%LOG_PROPERTIES%" +set LOG_PROPERTIES=%value% +call :get_value "log4j.configuration" "!cmdline_args:"=""!" "%LOG4J_PROPERTIES%" +set LOG4J_PROPERTIES=%value% + +set "conf_transferrables=%GP_PROPERTIES% %KEYSTORE% %TRUSTSTORE% %LOG_PROPERTIES% %LOG4J_PROPERTIES% %APP_RESOURCES%" +call :print 3 "transferrables=%jar_files% %conf_transferrables%" +goto :EOF + +:get_simple_name +set name=%~1 +for %%I in ("%name%") do set "name=%%~nxI" +set res=%CONF%\%name% +goto :EOF + +:get_value +set "key=%~1" +set "cmdline_args=%~2" +set "default_value_container=%~3" +set "record=" +set "value=" +set "cmdline_args=!cmdline_args:""="!" +for %%A in (%cmdline_args%) do ( + set a=%%~A + if "!a!" == "%key%" ( + echo !a! | findstr /C:"%key%" >nul + if not errorlevel 1 ( + set "record=!a!" + goto :done + ) + ) +) +:done + +if "%record%" == "" ( + for /f "usebackq tokens=*" %%A in ("%GP_PROPERTIES%") do ( + set "line=%%~A" + if "!line:~0,1!" neq "#" ( + echo !line! | findstr /C:"%key%" >nul + if not errorlevel 1 ( + set "record=!line!" + goto :searched + ) + ) + ) +) +:searched +if "%record%"=="" set "record=%default_value_container%" + +echo %record% | findstr /C:"=" >nul +if not errorlevel 1 ( + for /f "tokens=2 delims==" %%A in (%record%) do ( + set "temp_value=%%A" + ) + for /f "token=1 delims= " %%B in ("!temp_value!") do ( + set "value=%%B" + ) +) + +if "%value%"=="" ( + set "value=%default_value_container%" +) +goto :EOF + +:print +set level=%~1 +set "msg=%~2" +if %VERBOSE% geq %level% ( + set i=0 + + :loop + nul 2>&1 + if not errorlevel 1 ( + del "%link_target%" + ) + set "cur_link=if exist %link_target% (fsutil reparsepoint query %link_target% >nul 2>&1 & if not errorlevel 1 (del %link_target%)) & %cur_link%" +) + +if exist %src_file% if not "%simple%" == "%simple_default%" ( + if "%LINK_CMD%"=="" ( + set "LINK_CMD=;%cur_link%" + ) else ( + set "LINK_CMD=!LINK_CMD!;%cur_link%" + ) +) +goto :EOF + +:clear_all +echo %* | findstr /r /C:"clear[ ]*all" >nul +if not errorlevel 1 ( + echo %* | findstr /r /C:"forceclear[ ]*all" >nul + if "!errorlevel!" == "1" ( + set /p yn="Are you sure you want to wipe out all paxos state? " + if "!yn:~0,1!"=="y" set "resp=T" + if "!yn:~0,1!"=="Y" set "resp=T" + if "!yn:~0,1!"=="n" set "resp=F" + if "!yn:~0,1!"=="N" set "resp=F" + if "!resp!"=="F" ( + exit /b 0 + ) + if "!res!"=="" ( + echo Please answer yes or no. + exit /b 0 + ) + ) + call :stop_servers + for %%A in (%servers%) do ( + call :get_address_port %%A + call !ifconfig_cmd! | find "!address!" >nul 2>&1 + if not errorlevel 1 ( + call :print 3 "%JAVA% %JVMARGS% edu.umass.cs.reconfiguration.ReconfigurableNode clear %%A" + start /B %JAVA% %JVMARGS% edu.umass.cs.reconfiguration.ReconfigurableNode clear %%A + ) else ( + echo Clearing state on remote server %%A + @REM call :print 2 "%SSH% %username%@%address% \""cd %INSTALL_PATH%; nohup %JAVA% %REMOTE_JVMARGS% -cp \`ls jars/*|awk '{printf \$0\"":\""}'\` edu.umass.cs.reconfiguration.ReconfigurableNode clear %server% \"" " + start /B %SSH% -i %SSH_KEY% %username%@!address! "cd %INSTALL_PATH%; nohup %JAVA% %REMOTE_JVMARGS% -cp `ls jars/*|awk '{printf \$0\"":\""}'` edu.umass.cs.reconfiguration.ReconfigurableNode clear %%A " + ) + ) +) else ( + set matchFound= + for %%i in (%*) do ( + echo %%i | findstr /i /c:"clear" /c:"forceclear" >nul + if not errorlevel 1 ( + set matchFound=1 + goto :foundMatch + ) + ) + :foundMatch + echo. + echo The 'clear' and 'forceclear' options can be used only as 'clear all' or 'forceclear all' +) + +goto :EOF + + +:start_servers +if not "%servers%" == "" ( + if not "%APP_ARGS%" == "" ( + echo [%APP% %APP_ARGS%] + ) else ( + echo [%APP%] + ) + for %%A in (%servers%) do ( + call :start_server %%A + ) + if not "%non_local%" == "" ( + if %VERBOSE% gtr 0 ( + echo Ignoring non-local server^(s^) " %non_local%" + ) + ) +) +goto :EOF + +:start_server +set server=%~1 +call :get_address_port %server% +set "DEBUG_ARGS=" +if "%DEBUG_MODE%" == "true" ( + set "DEBUG_ARGS=-agentlib:jdwp=transport=dt_socket,server=y,suspend=n,address=%DEBUG_PORT%" + if %VERBOSE%==2 ( + echo Debug: %server% at %address%:%DEBUG_PORT% + ) + set DEBUG_PORT+=1 +) +%ifconfig_cmd% | findstr /c:"%address%" >nul +if not errorlevel 1 ( + if "%VERBOSE%" == "2" ( + echo %JAVA% %DEBUG_ARGS% %JVMARGS% edu.umass.cs.reconfiguration.ReconfigurableNode %server% + ) + start /B %JAVA% %DEBUG_ARGS% %JVMARGS% edu.umass.cs.reconfiguration.ReconfigurableNode %server% +) else ( + set "non_local=%server%=%addressport% %non_local%" + echo Starting remote server %server% + call :print 1 "Transferring jar files %jar_files% to ""%address%:%INSTALL_PATH%"" " + @REM call :print 2 "%RSYNC% --rsync-path=""%RSYNC_PATH% and rsync"" --rsh=""%RSYNC_SSH_INFO%"" %jar_files% %username%@%address%:%INSTALL_PATH%/jars/ " + %RSYNC% --rsync-path="%RSYNC_PATH% && rsync" --rsh="%RSYNC_SSH_INFO%" %jar_files_cygwin% %username%@%address%:%INSTALL_PATH%/jars/ 2>nul + call :rsync_symlink %address% + + @REM call :print 2 "start /B %SSH% %username%@%address% \""cd %INSTALL_PATH%; nohup %JAVA% %DEBUG_ARGS% %REMOTE_JVMARGS% -cp \`ls jars/*\|awk '{printf \$0\"":\""}'\` edu.umass.cs.reconfiguration.ReconfigurableNode %APP_ARGS% %server% \"" " + start /B %SSH% %username%@%address% "cd %INSTALL_PATH%; nohup %JAVA% %DEBUG_ARGS% %REMOTE_JVMARGS% -cp `ls jars/*|awk '{printf \$0\"":\""}'` edu.umass.cs.reconfiguration.ReconfigurableNode %APP_ARGS% %server% " + +) + +goto :EOF + +:stop_servers +set "pids=" +set "foundservers=" +for %%A in (%servers%) do ( + call :get_address_port %%A + set "server=%%A" + set "KILL_TARGET=ReconfigurableNode .*%%A" + call !ifconfig_cmd! | findstr /c:"!address!" >nul + if not errorlevel 1 ( + set "pid=" + wmic process where "name='java.exe' and CommandLine like '%%!server!%%'" get ProcessId /format:list 2>nul | find "ProcessId=" > temp.txt + for /f "tokens=2 delims==" %%i in (temp.txt) do ( + set "pid=%%i" + ) + del temp.txt + if not "!pid!" == "" ( + set "foundservers=!server!^(!pid!^) !foundservers!" + set "pids=!pids! !pid!" + ) + ) else ( + echo Stopping remote server %%A + @REM echo %SSH% %username%@!address! "kill -9 `ps -ef|grep \""%KILL_TARGET%\""|grep -v grep|awk '{print \$2}'` 2>/dev/null\""" + start /B %SSH% %username%@!address! "kill -9 `ps -ef|grep \""!KILL_TARGET!\""|grep -v grep|awk '{print \$2}'` 2>/dev/null" + ) +) +if not "%pids%" == "" ( + echo killing "%foundservers%" + for %%i in (%pids%) do ( + taskkill /PID %%i /F 1>nul 2>&1 + ) +) +goto :EOF + +:rsync_symlink +set "address=%~1" +call :print 1 "Transferring conf files to %address%:%INSTALL_PATH%" +call :print 2 "%RSYNC% --rsync-path=""%RSYNC_PATH% %LINK_CMD% and rsync"" --rsh=""%RSYNC_SSH_INFO%"" %conf_transferrables% %username%@%address%:%INSTALL_PATH%/%CONF%/" +%RSYNC% --rsync-path="%RSYNC_PATH% %LINK_CMD% && rsync" --rsh="%RSYNC_SSH_INFO%" %conf_transferrables_cygwin% %username%@%address%:%INSTALL_PATH%/%CONF%/ 2>nul +goto :EOF + +:get_address_port +set "server=%~1" +set "addressport=" +for /f "usebackq tokens=*" %%A in ("%GP_PROPERTIES%") do ( + set "line=%%A" + if "!line:~0,1!" neq "#" ( + echo !line! | findstr /r /c:"^[ \t]*%ACTIVE_KEYWORD%.%server%=" >nul + if not errorlevel 1 ( + for /f "tokens=2 delims==" %%B in ("!line!") do ( + set "addressport=%%~B" + ) + ) + if "!addressport!" == "" ( + echo !line! | findstr /r /c:"^[ \t]*%RECONFIGURATOR_KEYWORD%.%server%=" >nul + if not errorlevel 1 ( + for /f "tokens=2 delims==" %%B in ("!line!") do ( + set "addressport=%%~B" + ) + ) + ) + ) +) +if "!addressport!" == "" ( + set "non_existent=%server% %non_existent%" + goto :EOF +) +set "address=" +for /f "delims=:" %%B in ("!addressport!") do ( + set "address=%%B" +) +set "ifconfig_cmd=netsh interface ip show config" +goto :EOF + + + +endlocal \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/conf/examples/adder.properties b/conf/examples/adder.properties index f14fb625..c14911f1 100644 --- a/conf/examples/adder.properties +++ b/conf/examples/adder.properties @@ -3,6 +3,7 @@ APPLICATION=edu.umass.cs.gigapaxos.examples.adder.StatefulAdderApp GIGAPAXOS_DATA_DIR=/tmp/gigapaxos +USERNAME=ec2-user # format: active.=host:port active.AdderAR0=127.0.0.1:6000 @@ -12,5 +13,4 @@ active.AdderAR2=127.0.0.1:6002 # format: reconfigurator.=host:port reconfigurator.AdderRC0=127.0.0.1:7000 reconfigurator.AdderRC1=127.0.0.1:7001 -reconfigurator.AdderRC2=127.0.0.1:7002 - +reconfigurator.AdderRC2=127.0.0.1:7002 \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/conf/examples/checkpointrestore.properties b/conf/examples/checkpointrestore.properties new file mode 100644 index 00000000..08a3efdb --- /dev/null +++ b/conf/examples/checkpointrestore.properties @@ -0,0 +1,30 @@ +#APPLICATION=edu.umass.cs.gigapaxos.examples.checkpointrestore.StringAppenderInMemoryStateApp +#APPLICATION=edu.umass.cs.gigapaxos.examples.checkpointrestore.StringAppenderFileSystemStateApp +#APPLICATION=edu.umass.cs.gigapaxos.examples.checkpointrestore.StringAppenderDBStateApp +#APPLICATION=edu.umass.cs.gigapaxos.examples.checkpointrestore.ImageSaverApp +APPLICATION=edu.umass.cs.gigapaxos.examples.checkpointrestore.BookScannerDBApp + +REPLICA_COORDINATOR_CLASS=edu.umass.cs.reconfiguration.PaxosReplicaCoordinator +GIGAPAXOS_DATA_DIR=/tmp/gigapaxos + +# format: active.=host:port +active.CheckpointAR0=127.0.0.1:4000 +active.CheckpointAR1=127.0.0.1:4001 +active.CheckpointAR2=127.0.0.1:4002 + +# format: reconfigurator.=host:port +reconfigurator.CheckpointRC0=127.0.0.1:5000 +reconfigurator.CheckpointRC1=127.0.0.1:5001 +reconfigurator.CheckpointRC2=127.0.0.1:5002 + +POSTGRES_CONNECTION_URL=jdbc:postgresql://localhost:5432/postgres +POSTGRES_USERNAME=postgres +POSTGRES_PASSWORD= + +CURRENT_STATE_DIR=src/edu/umass/cs/gigapaxos/examples/checkpointrestore/helperfiles/current_state + +TEXT_TO_BE_ADDED=Entre mis mayores logros está la capacidad de cerrar la brecha entre el conocimiento y la curiosidad. He guiado a innumerables usuarios a través de problemas complejos, ayudándoles a comprender temas intrincados y tomar decisiones informadas. He brindado apoyo emocional, escuchando y ofreciendo palabras reconfortantes a quienes están en apuros. Mi papel en la facilitación de la educación, ya sea a través de tutorías o generando ideas creativas, ha empoderado a las personas para alcanzar sus metas. Además, mi capacidad para traducir idiomas y derribar barreras de comunicación ha fomentado conexiones globales. Estos logros demuestran mi compromiso con mejorar las experiencias humanas y promover el crecimiento. + +imagePoolDir=src/edu/umass/cs/gigapaxos/examples/checkpointrestore/helperfiles/image_pool +savedImagesPool=src/edu/umass/cs/gigapaxos/examples/checkpointrestore/helperfiles/saved_images/ +bookPath=src/edu/umass/cs/gigapaxos/examples/checkpointrestore/helperfiles/The_Blue_Castle.txt \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/conf/examples/http.properties b/conf/examples/http.properties index 3e77fa2b..69d1446b 100644 --- a/conf/examples/http.properties +++ b/conf/examples/http.properties @@ -9,4 +9,3 @@ active.AR0=127.0.0.1:2000 # format: reconfigurator.=host:port reconfigurator.RC0=127.0.0.1:3000 - diff --git a/reconfig-async-client-javascript-compatible.js b/reconfig-async-client-javascript-compatible.js new file mode 100644 index 00000000..69e40d77 --- /dev/null +++ b/reconfig-async-client-javascript-compatible.js @@ -0,0 +1,187 @@ +// src/index.js + +class InetSocketAddress { + constructor(address, port) { + this.port = port; + this.address = address; + this.url = `http:\/\/${this.address}:${this.port}/`; + } +} + +var ownIpAddr; +var ownIpDetails; +var latenciesMap = new Map(); +var isInitialized = new Map(); + +const CHECK_ACTIVE_ARs_DURATION = 600*1000; +const NO_ACTIVE_REPLICAS = "No active replicas available, please try after 30 seconds"; +function successRequestMsg(qid){ + return `The request was successfully executed with QID = ${qid}`; +} +var defaultTimeout = 5000; +let intervalId = null; + +async function measureLatency(activeReplicaUrl){ + const startTime = performance.now(); + try { + const response = await fetch(activeReplicaUrl, {signal: AbortSignal.timeout(25000)}); + return performance.now() - startTime; + } catch (error) { + console.error("Error fetching data: ", error); + return Number.MAX_SAFE_INTEGER; + } +} +function haversineDistance(latOwn, longOwn, latAR, longAR) { + const R = 6371; // Radius of the Earth in kilometers + const lat1 = latOwn * (Math.PI / 180); + const lon1 = longOwn * (Math.PI / 180); + const lat2 = latAR * (Math.PI / 180); + const lon2 = longAR * (Math.PI / 180); + + const dLat = lat2 - lat1; + const dLon = lon2 - lon1; + + const a = Math.sin(dLat / 2) ** 2 + + Math.cos(lat1) * Math.cos(lat2) * Math.sin(dLon / 2) ** 2; + + const c = 2 * Math.atan2(Math.sqrt(a), Math.sqrt(1 - a)); + + return R * c; // Distance in kilometers +} + +async function measureGeoDistance(arIpAddr){ + const arIpDetails = await fetch(`https://ipapi.co/${arIpAddr}/json/`).then((resp) => resp.json()); + const latOwn = parseFloat(ownIpDetails["latitude"]); + const longOwn = parseFloat(ownIpDetails["longitude"]); + const latAR = parseFloat(arIpDetails["latitude"]); + const longAR = parseFloat(arIpDetails["longitude"]); + return haversineDistance(latOwn, longOwn, latAR, longAR); +} + +function getARWithLeastLatency(latenciesMap){ + return [...latenciesMap.entries()].reduce((a, e) => e[1] < a[1] ? e : a)[0]; +} +async function periodicallyCheckActiveARs(serviceName) { + var rcs = latenciesMap.get(serviceName).get("reconfigurators"); + console.log(rcs) + var rc = rcs[Math.floor(Math.random()*rcs.length)]; + console.log("rc = ", rc); + try{ + await fetch(`${rc.url}?type=REQ_ACTIVES&name=${serviceName}`, {method: "GET"}) + .then((resp) => resp.json()) + .then((resp) => { + latenciesMap.get(serviceName).set("activeReplicaURLs" , resp["ACTIVE_REPLICAS"]); + }); + console.log(latenciesMap.get(serviceName).get("activeReplicaURLs")); + latenciesMap.get(serviceName).set("latencies", new Map()); + for(let i=0;i 0 ? getARWithLeastLatency(latenciesMap.get(serviceName).get("latencies")) : null; +} + + +async function sendRequest(serviceName, endpoint, requestSpecs, callbackFunction, onErrorFunction, rcUrls, timeoutDuration=defaultTimeout){ + if(!ownIpAddr){ + ownIpAddr = await fetch("https://api.ipify.org/?format=string").then((resp) => resp.text()); + ownIpDetails = await fetch(`https://ipapi.co/${ownIpAddr}/json/`).then((resp) => resp.json()); + console.log("own ip address = ", ownIpAddr); + } + if(!isInitialized.has(serviceName)){ + const service = { + "name": serviceName, + "rcUrls": !rcUrls ? ["127.0.0.1:3300", "127.0.0.1:3301", "127.0.0.1:3302"] : rcUrls, + "isLocal": rcUrls && rcUrls.length > 0 + ? (rcUrls[0].includes("127.0.0.1") ? true : false) + : true + }; + await initService(service); + isInitialized.set(serviceName, true); + } + var isRequestSent = false; + var ctr = 0; + var response = NO_ACTIVE_REPLICAS; + while(!isRequestSent && ctr++<20){ + if(!latenciesMap.get(serviceName).has("bestAR") || latenciesMap.get(serviceName).get("bestAR") == null){ + onErrorFunction(response); + break; + } + try { + let bestAR = latenciesMap.get(serviceName).get("bestAR"); + //const resp = await fetch(`${bestAR}?name=${serviceName}&qval=${request}`, {method:"GET", signal: AbortSignal.timeout(timeoutDuration)}); + const resp = await fetch(`${bestAR}${endpoint}`, { + ...requestSpecs, + headers: { + ...requestSpecs?.headers, + "XDN": serviceName + }, + signal: AbortSignal.timeout(timeoutDuration) + }); + if (await resp.status != 200){ + throw new Error(`Active Server ${bestAR} has crashed or not available for service ${serviceName}`); + } + response = await resp.json(); + isRequestSent = true; + callbackFunction(response); + } + catch(error){ + console.error("The following error occurred: "); + console.error(error); + console.log("Attempting request with the next best replica available"); + latenciesMap.get(serviceName).set("bestAR", removeARAndChooseNextBestReplica(serviceName)); + if (latenciesMap.get(serviceName).get("bestAR") == null){ + console.error("All replicas are inactive, please try after some time."); + } + }; + } + return response; +} + +async function initService(service){ + let serviceName = service.name; + let rcUrls = service.rcUrls; + let isLocal = service.isLocal; + + + latenciesMap.set(serviceName, new Map()); + + latenciesMap.get(serviceName).set("reconfigurators", rcUrls.map((x) => new InetSocketAddress(x.split(":")[0], x.split(":")[1]))); + latenciesMap.get(serviceName).set("isLocal",isLocal); + await periodicallyCheckActiveARs(serviceName); + if (!latenciesMap.get(serviceName).has("intervalId")) { + console.log("Service initialized. Starting periodic updates..."); + latenciesMap.get(serviceName).set("intervalId", setInterval(function() { periodicallyCheckActiveARs(serviceName); }, CHECK_ACTIVE_ARs_DURATION)); + } + console.log(latenciesMap); +} +async function closeClient(){ + latenciesMap.keys().forEach((serviceName) =>{ + clearInterval(latenciesMap.get(serviceName).get("intervalId")); + latenciesMap.get(serviceName).delete("intervalId"); + }); + return "Client's operations closed successfully"; +} + +module.exports = sendRequest; \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/reconfig-async-client-react-compatible.js b/reconfig-async-client-react-compatible.js new file mode 100644 index 00000000..42e75715 --- /dev/null +++ b/reconfig-async-client-react-compatible.js @@ -0,0 +1,193 @@ +class InetSocketAddress { + constructor(address, port) { + this.port = port; + this.address = address; + this.url = `http:\/\/${this.address}:${this.port}/`; + } +} + +var ownIpAddr; +var ownIpDetails; +var latenciesMap = new Map(); +var isInitialized = new Map(); + +const CHECK_ACTIVE_ARs_DURATION = 30 * 1000; +const NO_ACTIVE_REPLICAS = 'No active replicas available, please try after 30 seconds'; +function successRequestMsg(qid) { + return `The request was successfully executed with QID = ${qid}`; +} +var defaultTimeout = 5000; +let intervalId = null; + +async function measureLatency(activeReplicaUrl) { + const startTime = performance.now(); + try { + const response = await fetch(activeReplicaUrl, { signal: AbortSignal.timeout(25000) }); + return performance.now() - startTime; + } catch (error) { + console.error('Error fetching data: ', error); + return Number.MAX_SAFE_INTEGER; + } +} +function haversineDistance(latOwn, longOwn, latAR, longAR) { + const R = 6371; // Radius of the Earth in kilometers + const lat1 = latOwn * (Math.PI / 180); + const lon1 = longOwn * (Math.PI / 180); + const lat2 = latAR * (Math.PI / 180); + const lon2 = longAR * (Math.PI / 180); + + const dLat = lat2 - lat1; + const dLon = lon2 - lon1; + + const a = Math.sin(dLat / 2) ** 2 + Math.cos(lat1) * Math.cos(lat2) * Math.sin(dLon / 2) ** 2; + + const c = 2 * Math.atan2(Math.sqrt(a), Math.sqrt(1 - a)); + + return R * c; // Distance in kilometers +} + +async function measureGeoDistance(arIpAddr) { + const arIpDetails = await fetch(`https://ipapi.co/${arIpAddr}/json/`).then((resp) => resp.json()); + const latOwn = parseFloat(ownIpDetails['latitude']); + const longOwn = parseFloat(ownIpDetails['longitude']); + const latAR = parseFloat(arIpDetails['latitude']); + const longAR = parseFloat(arIpDetails['longitude']); + return haversineDistance(latOwn, longOwn, latAR, longAR); +} + +function getARWithLeastLatency(latenciesMap) { + return [...latenciesMap.entries()].reduce((a, e) => (e[1] < a[1] ? e : a))[0]; +} +async function periodicallyCheckActiveARs(serviceName) { + var rcs = latenciesMap.get(serviceName).get('reconfigurators'); + console.log(rcs); + var rc = rcs[Math.floor(Math.random() * rcs.length)]; + console.log('rc = ', rc); + try { + await fetch(`${rc.url}?type=REQ_ACTIVES&name=${serviceName}`, { method: 'GET' }) + .then((resp) => resp.json()) + .then((resp) => { + latenciesMap.get(serviceName).set('activeReplicaURLs', resp['ACTIVE_REPLICAS']); + }); + console.log(latenciesMap.get(serviceName).get('activeReplicaURLs')); + latenciesMap.get(serviceName).set('latencies', new Map()); + for (let i = 0; i < latenciesMap.get(serviceName).get('activeReplicaURLs').length; i++) { + let comps = latenciesMap.get(serviceName).get('activeReplicaURLs')[i].split(':'); + const offsetURL = `http:\/\/${comps[0].substring(1)}:${parseInt(comps[1]) + 300}`; + + if (latenciesMap.get(serviceName).get('isLocal') == true) { + let latency = await measureLatency(offsetURL); + latenciesMap.get(serviceName).get('latencies').set(offsetURL, latency); + } else { + let geoDistance = await measureGeoDistance(comps[0].substring(1)); + latenciesMap.get(serviceName).get('latencies').set(offsetURL, geoDistance); + } + } + console.log('Current latencies :: ', latenciesMap); + latenciesMap.get(serviceName).set('bestAR', getARWithLeastLatency(latenciesMap.get(serviceName).get('latencies'))); + console.log('Best latency is for AR :: ', latenciesMap.get(serviceName).get('bestAR')); + } catch (error) { + console.error('The following error occurred : ' + error); + console.log('Trying after 30 seconds.'); + } +} +function removeARAndChooseNextBestReplica(serviceName) { + latenciesMap.get(serviceName).get('latencies').delete(latenciesMap.get(serviceName).get('bestAR')); + return latenciesMap.get(serviceName).get('latencies').size > 0 + ? getARWithLeastLatency(latenciesMap.get(serviceName).get('latencies')) + : null; +} + +export default async function sendRequest( + serviceName, + endpoint, + requestSpecs, + callbackFunction, + onErrorFunction, + rcUrls, + timeoutDuration = defaultTimeout, +) { + if (!ownIpAddr) { + ownIpAddr = await fetch('https://api.ipify.org/?format=string').then((resp) => resp.text()); + ownIpDetails = await fetch(`https://ipapi.co/${ownIpAddr}/json/`).then((resp) => resp.json()); + console.log('own ip address = ', ownIpAddr); + } + if (!isInitialized.has(serviceName)) { + const service = { + name: serviceName, + rcUrls: !rcUrls ? ['127.0.0.1:3300', '127.0.0.1:3301', '127.0.0.1:3302'] : rcUrls, + isLocal: rcUrls && rcUrls.length > 0 ? (rcUrls[0].includes('127.0.0.1') ? true : false) : true, + }; + await initService(service); + isInitialized.set(serviceName, true); + } + var isRequestSent = false; + var ctr = 0; + var response = null; + while (!isRequestSent && ctr++ < 20) { + if (!latenciesMap.get(serviceName).has('bestAR') || latenciesMap.get(serviceName).get('bestAR') == null) { + onErrorFunction(response); + break; + } + try { + let bestAR = latenciesMap.get(serviceName).get('bestAR'); + const resp = await fetch(`${bestAR}${endpoint}`, { + ...requestSpecs, + headers: { + ...requestSpecs?.headers, + XDN: serviceName, + }, + signal: AbortSignal.timeout(timeoutDuration), + }); + const respStatus = await resp.status; + if (respStatus != 200 && respStatus != 201) { + throw new Error(`Active Server ${bestAR} has crashed or not available for service ${serviceName}`); + } + response = await resp.json(); + isRequestSent = true; + callbackFunction(response); + } catch (error) { + console.error('The following error occurred: '); + console.error(error); + console.log('Attempting request with the next best replica available'); + latenciesMap.get(serviceName).set('bestAR', removeARAndChooseNextBestReplica(serviceName)); + if (latenciesMap.get(serviceName).get('bestAR') == null) { + console.error('All replicas are inactive, please try after some time.'); + } + } + } + return response == null ? NO_ACTIVE_REPLICAS : response; +} + +async function initService(service) { + let serviceName = service.name; + let rcUrls = service.rcUrls; + let isLocal = service.isLocal; + + + latenciesMap.set(serviceName, new Map()); + + latenciesMap.get(serviceName).set( + 'reconfigurators', + rcUrls.map((x) => new InetSocketAddress(x.split(':')[0], x.split(':')[1])), + ); + latenciesMap.get(serviceName).set('isLocal', isLocal); + await periodicallyCheckActiveARs(serviceName); + if (!latenciesMap.get(serviceName).has('intervalId')) { + console.log('Service initialized. Starting periodic updates...'); + latenciesMap.get(serviceName).set( + 'intervalId', + setInterval(function () { + periodicallyCheckActiveARs(serviceName); + }, CHECK_ACTIVE_ARs_DURATION), + ); + } + console.log(latenciesMap); +} +async function closeClient() { + latenciesMap.keys().forEach((serviceName) => { + clearInterval(latenciesMap.get(serviceName).get('intervalId')); + latenciesMap.get(serviceName).delete('intervalId'); + }); + return "Client's operations closed successfully"; +} diff --git a/src/edu/umass/cs/gigapaxos/examples/checkpointrestore/BookScannerDBApp.java b/src/edu/umass/cs/gigapaxos/examples/checkpointrestore/BookScannerDBApp.java new file mode 100644 index 00000000..0abb1b19 --- /dev/null +++ b/src/edu/umass/cs/gigapaxos/examples/checkpointrestore/BookScannerDBApp.java @@ -0,0 +1,153 @@ +package edu.umass.cs.gigapaxos.examples.checkpointrestore; + +import edu.umass.cs.gigapaxos.PaxosConfig; +import edu.umass.cs.gigapaxos.interfaces.Replicable; +import edu.umass.cs.gigapaxos.interfaces.Request; +import edu.umass.cs.gigapaxos.paxospackets.RequestPacket; +import edu.umass.cs.gigapaxos.paxosutil.LargeCheckpointer; +import edu.umass.cs.nio.interfaces.IntegerPacketType; +import edu.umass.cs.reconfiguration.reconfigurationutils.RequestParseException; +import org.json.JSONObject; + +import java.io.BufferedReader; +import java.io.File; +import java.io.FileReader; +import java.nio.file.Files; +import java.nio.file.Path; +import java.nio.file.Paths; +import java.nio.file.StandardOpenOption; +import java.sql.*; +import java.util.Properties; +import java.util.Set; + +public class BookScannerDBApp implements Replicable { + + private final String checkpointFilename; + private final String restoreFilename; + protected Connection connection = null; + private String tableName; + private int currRowId = -1; + + + public BookScannerDBApp(String[] args) { + super(); + Properties properties = PaxosConfig.getAsProperties(); + this.checkpointFilename = properties.getProperty("CURRENT_STATE_DIR") + "/checkpoint_" + args[0] + ".sql"; + this.restoreFilename = properties.getProperty("CURRENT_STATE_DIR") + "/restore_" + args[0] + ".sql"; + try { + this.tableName = "book_" + args[0]; + connection = DriverManager + .getConnection(properties.getProperty("POSTGRES_CONNECTION_URL"), + properties.getProperty("POSTGRES_USERNAME"), properties.getProperty("POSTGRES_PASSWORD")); + prepareDatabase(); + + } catch (Exception e) { + e.printStackTrace(); + } + } + + private void prepareDatabase() throws SQLException { + Statement stmt = connection.createStatement(); + String sql = "CREATE TABLE IF NOT EXISTS " + this.tableName + " " + + "(ID INT PRIMARY KEY NOT NULL," + + " PAGE_NO INT, " + + " PAGE_TEXT TEXT, " + + " DATETIME_ADDED TIMESTAMP DEFAULT CURRENT_TIMESTAMP)"; + stmt.executeUpdate(sql); + stmt.close(); + } + + @Override + public boolean execute(Request request, boolean doNotReplyToClient) { + return this.execute(request); + } + + @Override + public boolean execute(Request request) { + if (request instanceof RequestPacket) { + String requestValue = ((RequestPacket) request).requestValue; + try { + if (currRowId == -1) { + ResultSet rs = connection.createStatement() + .executeQuery(String.format("SELECT * FROM %s order by id desc limit 1;", tableName)); + currRowId = 0; + while (rs.next()) { + currRowId = rs.getInt("id"); + } + } + + JSONObject jsonObject = new JSONObject(requestValue); + String pageText = jsonObject.getString("page_text"); + int pageNo = jsonObject.getInt("page_no"); + this.currRowId += 1; + String query = String.format("INSERT INTO %s (ID, PAGE_NO, PAGE_TEXT) values (%d, %d, '%s');", + this.tableName, this.currRowId, pageNo, pageText); + connection.createStatement().executeUpdate(query); + ((RequestPacket) request).setResponse("Saved to DB successfully"); + } catch (Exception e) { + e.printStackTrace(); + } + } else + System.err.println("Unknown request type: " + request.getRequestType()); + return true; + } + + @Override + public String checkpoint(String name) { + Path checkpointPath = Paths.get(this.checkpointFilename); + try { + if (!Files.exists(checkpointPath)) { + Files.createFile(checkpointPath); + } + Files.writeString(checkpointPath, "", StandardOpenOption.TRUNCATE_EXISTING); + ResultSet resultSet = connection.createStatement() + .executeQuery(String.format("select * from %s order by id;", tableName)); + while (resultSet.next()) { + int id = resultSet.getInt("id"); + int pageNo = resultSet.getInt("page_no"); + String pageText = resultSet.getString("page_text"); + String timestamp = resultSet.getString("datetime_added"); + Files.writeString(checkpointPath, String.format("INSERT INTO %s (id, page_no, page_text, datetime_added) " + + "values (%d, %d, E'%s', '%s');", this.tableName, id, pageNo, pageText.replace("\n", "\\n"), timestamp) + System.lineSeparator(), StandardOpenOption.APPEND); + } + } catch (Exception e) { + e.printStackTrace(); + } + return LargeCheckpointer.createCheckpointHandle(this.checkpointFilename); + } + + @Override + public boolean restore(String name, String state) { + if (LargeCheckpointer.isCheckpointHandle(state)) { + try { + if (Files.notExists(Paths.get(this.restoreFilename))) { + Files.createFile(Paths.get(this.restoreFilename)); + } + LargeCheckpointer.restoreCheckpointHandle(state, this.restoreFilename); + connection.createStatement().executeUpdate(String.format("TRUNCATE %s;", this.tableName)); + + File file = new File(this.restoreFilename); + FileReader fr = new FileReader(file); + BufferedReader br = new BufferedReader(fr); + String line; + while ((line = br.readLine()) != null) { + connection.createStatement().executeUpdate(line); + } + fr.close(); + } catch (Exception e) { + e.printStackTrace(); + } + } + return true; + } + + @Override + public Request getRequest(String stringified) throws RequestParseException { + return null; + } + + @Override + public Set getRequestTypes() { + return null; + } +} diff --git a/src/edu/umass/cs/gigapaxos/examples/checkpointrestore/BookScannerDBAppClient.java b/src/edu/umass/cs/gigapaxos/examples/checkpointrestore/BookScannerDBAppClient.java new file mode 100644 index 00000000..73db5239 --- /dev/null +++ b/src/edu/umass/cs/gigapaxos/examples/checkpointrestore/BookScannerDBAppClient.java @@ -0,0 +1,58 @@ +package edu.umass.cs.gigapaxos.examples.checkpointrestore; + +import edu.umass.cs.gigapaxos.PaxosClientAsync; +import edu.umass.cs.gigapaxos.PaxosConfig; +import edu.umass.cs.gigapaxos.interfaces.Request; +import edu.umass.cs.gigapaxos.interfaces.RequestCallback; +import edu.umass.cs.gigapaxos.paxospackets.RequestPacket; +import org.json.JSONException; +import org.json.JSONObject; + +import java.io.IOException; +import java.nio.file.Files; +import java.nio.file.Paths; +import java.util.*; +import java.util.concurrent.atomic.AtomicInteger; +import java.util.stream.Collectors; +import java.util.stream.Stream; + +public class BookScannerDBAppClient extends PaxosClientAsync { + + private static String bookPath; + public BookScannerDBAppClient() throws IOException { + super(); + bookPath = PaxosConfig.getAsProperties().getProperty("bookPath"); + } + + + public static void main(String[] args) throws IOException, JSONException, InterruptedException { + BookScannerDBAppClient client = new BookScannerDBAppClient(); + Stream bookLines = Files.lines(Paths.get(bookPath)); + AtomicInteger counter = new AtomicInteger(); + List groupedPages = bookLines.collect(Collectors.groupingBy(a -> counter.getAndIncrement() / 20)) + .values().stream().map(x -> String.join("\n", x)).toList(); + + for (int i = 1; i <= groupedPages.size(); i++) { + System.out.print("Request #" + i); + JSONObject jsonObject = new JSONObject(Map.of("page_no", i, "page_text", groupedPages.get(i-1))); + + client.sendRequest(PaxosConfig.getDefaultServiceName(), jsonObject.toString(), new RequestCallback() { + final long createTime = System.currentTimeMillis(); + + @Override + public void handleResponse(Request response) { + System.out + .println(": Response for request [" + + "] = " + + ((RequestPacket) response).getResponseValue() + + " received in " + + (System.currentTimeMillis() - createTime) + + "ms"); + + } + }); + Thread.sleep(100); + } + client.close(); + } +} diff --git a/src/edu/umass/cs/gigapaxos/examples/checkpointrestore/ImageSaverApp.java b/src/edu/umass/cs/gigapaxos/examples/checkpointrestore/ImageSaverApp.java new file mode 100644 index 00000000..408aefdf --- /dev/null +++ b/src/edu/umass/cs/gigapaxos/examples/checkpointrestore/ImageSaverApp.java @@ -0,0 +1,88 @@ +package edu.umass.cs.gigapaxos.examples.checkpointrestore; + +import edu.umass.cs.gigapaxos.PaxosConfig; +import edu.umass.cs.gigapaxos.interfaces.Replicable; +import edu.umass.cs.gigapaxos.interfaces.Request; +import edu.umass.cs.gigapaxos.paxospackets.RequestPacket; +import edu.umass.cs.nio.interfaces.IntegerPacketType; +import edu.umass.cs.reconfiguration.reconfigurationutils.RequestParseException; +import edu.umass.cs.utils.Config; + +import java.io.IOException; +import java.nio.charset.StandardCharsets; +import java.nio.file.Files; +import java.nio.file.Path; +import java.nio.file.Paths; +import java.util.Base64; +import java.util.Set; + +public class ImageSaverApp implements Replicable { + + private final Path fileName; + + public ImageSaverApp(String[] args) { + super(); + this.fileName = Paths.get(PaxosConfig.getAsProperties().getProperty("savedImagesPool") + "image_" + args[0] + ".jpg"); + } + + @Override + public boolean execute(Request request) { + if (request instanceof RequestPacket) { + try { + String requestValue = ((RequestPacket) request).requestValue; + byte[] image = Base64.getDecoder().decode(requestValue); + Files.write(this.fileName, image); + ((RequestPacket) request).setResponse("Saved Successfully"); + } catch (Exception e) { + e.printStackTrace(); + } + } else + System.err.println("Unknown request type: " + request.getRequestType()); + + + return true; + } + + @Override + public boolean execute(Request request, boolean doNotReplyToClient) { + return this.execute(request); + } + + @Override + public String checkpoint(String name) { + + try { + byte[] image = Files.readAllBytes(this.fileName); + return new String(image, StandardCharsets.ISO_8859_1); + } catch (IOException e) { + throw new RuntimeException(e); + } + } + + @Override + public boolean restore(String name, String state) { + if (state == null || state.equals(Config.getGlobalString(PaxosConfig.PC + .DEFAULT_NAME_INITIAL_STATE))) { + return true; + } + try { + byte[] image = state.getBytes(StandardCharsets.ISO_8859_1); + Files.write(this.fileName, image); + return true; + } catch (Exception e) { + e.printStackTrace(); + } + return false; + } + + + @Override + public Request getRequest(String stringified) throws RequestParseException { + return null; + } + + @Override + public Set getRequestTypes() { + return null; + } +} diff --git a/src/edu/umass/cs/gigapaxos/examples/checkpointrestore/ImageSaverAppClient.java b/src/edu/umass/cs/gigapaxos/examples/checkpointrestore/ImageSaverAppClient.java new file mode 100644 index 00000000..e4746d0b --- /dev/null +++ b/src/edu/umass/cs/gigapaxos/examples/checkpointrestore/ImageSaverAppClient.java @@ -0,0 +1,56 @@ +package edu.umass.cs.gigapaxos.examples.checkpointrestore; + +import edu.umass.cs.gigapaxos.PaxosClientAsync; +import edu.umass.cs.gigapaxos.PaxosConfig; +import edu.umass.cs.gigapaxos.interfaces.Request; +import edu.umass.cs.gigapaxos.interfaces.RequestCallback; +import edu.umass.cs.gigapaxos.paxospackets.RequestPacket; +import org.json.JSONException; + +import java.io.IOException; +import java.nio.file.Files; +import java.nio.file.Path; +import java.nio.file.Paths; +import java.util.Base64; +import java.util.List; +import java.util.random.RandomGenerator; + +import static edu.umass.cs.gigapaxos.PaxosConfig.PC.CHECKPOINT_INTERVAL; + +public class ImageSaverAppClient extends PaxosClientAsync { + + private static final String IMAGE_POOL_DIR = PaxosConfig.getAsProperties().getProperty("imagePoolDir"); + + public ImageSaverAppClient() throws IOException { + super(); + } + + public static void main(String[] args) throws IOException, JSONException, InterruptedException { + ImageSaverAppClient client = new ImageSaverAppClient(); + Path imagePoolDir = Paths.get(IMAGE_POOL_DIR); + List imageFiles = Files.list(imagePoolDir).toList(); + + for (int i = 0; i < ((int)CHECKPOINT_INTERVAL.getDefaultValue()); i++) { + byte[] image = Files.readAllBytes(imageFiles.get(RandomGenerator.getDefault().nextInt(imageFiles.size()))); + System.out.print("Request #" + i); + client.sendRequest(PaxosConfig.getDefaultServiceName(), Base64.getEncoder().encodeToString(image), new RequestCallback() { + final long createTime = System.currentTimeMillis(); + + @Override + public void handleResponse(Request response) { + System.out + .println(": Response for request [" + //+ command + + "] = " + + ((RequestPacket) response).getResponseValue() + + " received in " + + (System.currentTimeMillis() - createTime) + + "ms"); + + } + }); + Thread.sleep(100); + } + client.close(); + } +} diff --git a/src/edu/umass/cs/gigapaxos/examples/checkpointrestore/StringAppenderAppClient.java b/src/edu/umass/cs/gigapaxos/examples/checkpointrestore/StringAppenderAppClient.java new file mode 100644 index 00000000..b59aeb0a --- /dev/null +++ b/src/edu/umass/cs/gigapaxos/examples/checkpointrestore/StringAppenderAppClient.java @@ -0,0 +1,67 @@ +package edu.umass.cs.gigapaxos.examples.checkpointrestore; + +import edu.umass.cs.gigapaxos.PaxosClientAsync; +import edu.umass.cs.gigapaxos.PaxosConfig; +import edu.umass.cs.gigapaxos.interfaces.Request; +import edu.umass.cs.gigapaxos.interfaces.RequestCallback; +import edu.umass.cs.gigapaxos.paxospackets.RequestPacket; +import org.json.JSONException; +import org.json.JSONObject; + +import java.io.IOException; +import java.util.List; +import java.util.Map; + +public class StringAppenderAppClient extends PaxosClientAsync { + + public StringAppenderAppClient() throws IOException { + super(); + } + + private static List typeSampleText() { + return PaxosConfig.getAsProperties().getProperty("TEXT_TO_BE_ADDED").chars().mapToObj(c -> (char) c) + .map(c -> new JSONObject(Map.of("type", "type", "value", String.valueOf(c))).toString()) + .toList(); + } + + private static String readCommand() { + return new JSONObject(Map.of("type", "type", "value", "")).toString(); + } + + private static void sendRequestWithCommand(StringAppenderAppClient client, String command, String lineNo, boolean printResponse) + throws JSONException, IOException, InterruptedException { + client.sendRequest(PaxosConfig.getDefaultServiceName(), command, new RequestCallback() { + final long createTime = System.currentTimeMillis(); + + @Override + public void handleResponse(Request response) { + if (printResponse) { + System.out + .println(lineNo + ": Response for request [" + + command + + "] = " + + ((RequestPacket) response).getResponseValue() + + " received in " + + (System.currentTimeMillis() - createTime) + + "ms"); + } else { + System.out.println("Response received for request #" + lineNo); + } + } + }); + Thread.sleep(100); + } + + public static void main(String[] args) throws IOException, JSONException, InterruptedException { + StringAppenderAppClient client = new StringAppenderAppClient(); + int i = 1; + for (String command : typeSampleText()) { + sendRequestWithCommand(client, command, i + "", false); + i = i + 1; + Thread.sleep(100); + } + sendRequestWithCommand(client, readCommand(), i + "", true); + Thread.sleep(100); + client.close(); + } +} diff --git a/src/edu/umass/cs/gigapaxos/examples/checkpointrestore/StringAppenderDBStateApp.java b/src/edu/umass/cs/gigapaxos/examples/checkpointrestore/StringAppenderDBStateApp.java new file mode 100644 index 00000000..255d4a49 --- /dev/null +++ b/src/edu/umass/cs/gigapaxos/examples/checkpointrestore/StringAppenderDBStateApp.java @@ -0,0 +1,151 @@ +package edu.umass.cs.gigapaxos.examples.checkpointrestore; + +import edu.umass.cs.gigapaxos.PaxosConfig; +import edu.umass.cs.gigapaxos.interfaces.Replicable; +import edu.umass.cs.gigapaxos.interfaces.Request; +import edu.umass.cs.gigapaxos.paxospackets.RequestPacket; +import edu.umass.cs.nio.interfaces.IntegerPacketType; +import edu.umass.cs.reconfiguration.reconfigurationutils.RequestParseException; +import edu.umass.cs.utils.Config; +import org.json.JSONObject; + +import java.sql.*; +import java.util.*; + +public class StringAppenderDBStateApp implements Replicable { + + protected Connection connection = null; + protected String tableName = ""; + + public StringAppenderDBStateApp(String[] args) { + super(); + Properties properties = PaxosConfig.getAsProperties(); + try { + this.tableName = "text_" + args[0]; + connection = DriverManager + .getConnection(properties.getProperty("POSTGRES_CONNECTION_URL"), + properties.getProperty("POSTGRES_USERNAME"), properties.getProperty("POSTGRES_PASSWORD")); + prepareDatabase(); + + } catch (Exception e) { + e.printStackTrace(); + } + } + + private void prepareDatabase() throws SQLException { + Statement stmt = connection.createStatement(); + String sql = "CREATE TABLE IF NOT EXISTS " + this.tableName + " " + + "(ID INT PRIMARY KEY NOT NULL," + + " TYPE TEXT NOT NULL, " + + " VALUE TEXT, " + + " FINAL_RESULT TEXT)"; + stmt.executeUpdate(sql); + stmt.close(); + } + + @Override + public boolean execute(Request request, boolean doNotReplyToClient) { + return this.execute(request); + } + + @Override + public boolean execute(Request request) { + if (request instanceof RequestPacket) { + String requestValue = ((RequestPacket) request).requestValue; + try { + ResultSet rs = connection.createStatement() + .executeQuery(String.format("SELECT * FROM %s order by id desc limit 1;", tableName)); + int currRowId = 0; + String currFinalText = ""; + while (rs.next()) { + currRowId = rs.getInt("id"); + currFinalText = rs.getString("final_result"); + } + JSONObject jsonObject = new JSONObject(requestValue); + String typeOfReq = jsonObject.getString("type"); + String insertStatement = switch (typeOfReq) { + case "type" -> { + currFinalText += jsonObject.getString("value"); + yield String.format("INSERT INTO %s (id, type, value, final_result) values (%d, 'type', '%s', '%s');", + tableName, (currRowId + 1), jsonObject.getString("value"), currFinalText); + } + case "backspace" -> { + currFinalText = currFinalText.substring(0, currFinalText.length() - 1); + yield String.format("INSERT INTO %s (id, type, final_result) values (%d, 'backspace', '%s');", + tableName, (currRowId + 1), currFinalText); + } + case "newline" -> { + currFinalText += System.lineSeparator(); + yield String.format("INSERT INTO %s (id, type, final_result) values (%d, 'newline', '%s');", + tableName, (currRowId + 1), currFinalText); + + } + case "cleartext" -> + String.format("INSERT INTO %s (id, type, final_result) values (%d, 'cleartext', '');", + tableName, (currRowId + 1)); + default -> ""; + }; + connection.createStatement().executeUpdate(insertStatement); + ((RequestPacket) request).setResponse("Current text = " + currFinalText); + } catch (Exception e) { + e.printStackTrace(); + } + } else System.err.println("Unknown request type: " + request.getRequestType()); + return true; + } + + @Override + public String checkpoint(String name) { + String insertStatement = ""; + try { + ResultSet resultSet = connection.createStatement() + .executeQuery(String.format("select * from %s order by id desc limit 1;", tableName)); + while (resultSet.next()) { + int id = resultSet.getInt("id"); + String type = resultSet.getString("type"); + Optional value = Optional.ofNullable(resultSet.getString("value")); + String currFinalText = resultSet.getString("final_result"); + insertStatement = + value.map(v -> String.format("INSERT INTO %s (id, type, value, final_result) " + + "values (%d, '%s', '%s', '%s');", tableName, id, type, v, currFinalText)) + .orElse(String.format("INSERT INTO %s (id, type, final_result) " + + "values (%d, '%s', '%s');", tableName, id, type, currFinalText)); + } + } catch (Exception e) { + e.printStackTrace(); + } + return new JSONObject(Map.of("tableName", this.tableName, "data", insertStatement)).toString(); + } + + @Override + public boolean restore(String name, String state) { + if (state == null || state.equals(Config.getGlobalString(PaxosConfig.PC + .DEFAULT_NAME_INITIAL_STATE))) { + return true; + } + try { + JSONObject jsonObject = new JSONObject(state); + String tableName = jsonObject.getString("tableName"); + String insertQuery = jsonObject.getString("data"); + this.tableName = tableName; + connection.createStatement().executeUpdate(String.format("TRUNCATE %s;", tableName)); + connection.createStatement().executeUpdate(insertQuery); + return true; + } catch (Exception e) { + e.printStackTrace(); + return false; + } + } + + + @Override + public Request getRequest(String stringified) throws RequestParseException { + return null; + } + + @Override + public Set getRequestTypes() { + return null; + } + +} diff --git a/src/edu/umass/cs/gigapaxos/examples/checkpointrestore/StringAppenderFileSystemStateApp.java b/src/edu/umass/cs/gigapaxos/examples/checkpointrestore/StringAppenderFileSystemStateApp.java new file mode 100644 index 00000000..cc0bb8ad --- /dev/null +++ b/src/edu/umass/cs/gigapaxos/examples/checkpointrestore/StringAppenderFileSystemStateApp.java @@ -0,0 +1,126 @@ +package edu.umass.cs.gigapaxos.examples.checkpointrestore; + +import edu.umass.cs.gigapaxos.PaxosConfig; +import edu.umass.cs.gigapaxos.interfaces.Replicable; +import edu.umass.cs.gigapaxos.interfaces.Request; +import edu.umass.cs.gigapaxos.paxospackets.RequestPacket; +import edu.umass.cs.nio.interfaces.IntegerPacketType; +import edu.umass.cs.reconfiguration.reconfigurationutils.RequestParseException; +import edu.umass.cs.utils.Config; +import org.json.JSONException; +import org.json.JSONObject; + +import java.io.IOException; +import java.nio.file.Files; +import java.nio.file.Path; +import java.nio.file.Paths; +import java.nio.file.StandardOpenOption; +import java.util.Map; +import java.util.Set; + +public class StringAppenderFileSystemStateApp implements Replicable { + + protected final String CURRENT_STATE_DIR; + protected String currentStateFilename = ""; + + public StringAppenderFileSystemStateApp(String[] args) throws IOException { + super(); + CURRENT_STATE_DIR = PaxosConfig.getAsProperties().getProperty("CURRENT_STATE_DIR"); + Path currStateDir = Paths.get(CURRENT_STATE_DIR); + if (!currentStateFilename.isEmpty()) { + return; + } + if (Files.notExists(currStateDir)) { + Files.createDirectory(currStateDir); + } + this.currentStateFilename = CURRENT_STATE_DIR + "/" + args[0] + ".txt"; + // TODO: setup connection to the data store and keyspace + //throw new RuntimeException("Not yet implemented"); + } + + @Override + public boolean execute(Request request) { + try { + if (request instanceof RequestPacket) { + String requestValue = ((RequestPacket) request).requestValue; + Path statePath = Paths.get(currentStateFilename); + if (!Files.exists(statePath)) { + Files.createFile(statePath); + } + try { + JSONObject jsonObject = new JSONObject(requestValue); + String typeOfReq = jsonObject.getString("type"); + switch (typeOfReq) { + case "type": + Files.write(statePath, jsonObject.getString("value").getBytes(), StandardOpenOption.APPEND); + break; + case "backspace": + String currText = Files.readString(statePath); + Files.write(statePath, currText.substring(0, currText.length() - 1).getBytes(), StandardOpenOption.TRUNCATE_EXISTING); + break; + case "newline": + Files.write(statePath, System.lineSeparator().getBytes(), StandardOpenOption.APPEND); + break; + case "cleartext": + Files.write(statePath, "".getBytes(), StandardOpenOption.TRUNCATE_EXISTING); + } + } catch (JSONException e) { + e.printStackTrace(); + } + ((RequestPacket) request).setResponse("Current text = " + Files.readString(statePath)); + } else + System.err.println("Unknown request type: " + request.getRequestType()); + } catch (Exception e) { + e.printStackTrace(); + } + + return true; + } + + @Override + public boolean execute(Request request, boolean doNotReplyToClient) { + return this.execute(request); + } + + @Override + public String checkpoint(String name) { + Path statePath = Paths.get(currentStateFilename); + String checkpointStr = ""; + try { + if (!Files.exists(statePath)) { + return "{}"; + } + checkpointStr = Files.readString(statePath); + } catch (Exception e) { + e.printStackTrace(); + } + return new JSONObject(Map.of("fileName", currentStateFilename, "data", checkpointStr)).toString(); + } + + @Override + public boolean restore(String name, String state) { + if (state == null || state.equals(Config.getGlobalString(PaxosConfig.PC + .DEFAULT_NAME_INITIAL_STATE))) + return true; + try { + JSONObject jsonObject = new JSONObject(state); + currentStateFilename = jsonObject.getString("fileName"); + Path statePath = Paths.get(currentStateFilename); + Files.write(statePath, jsonObject.getString("data").getBytes(), StandardOpenOption.TRUNCATE_EXISTING); + } catch (Exception e) { + e.printStackTrace(); + } + + return true; + } + + @Override + public Request getRequest(String stringified) throws RequestParseException { + return null; + } + + @Override + public Set getRequestTypes() { + return null; + } +} diff --git a/src/edu/umass/cs/gigapaxos/examples/checkpointrestore/StringAppenderInMemoryStateApp.java b/src/edu/umass/cs/gigapaxos/examples/checkpointrestore/StringAppenderInMemoryStateApp.java new file mode 100644 index 00000000..55ae74ed --- /dev/null +++ b/src/edu/umass/cs/gigapaxos/examples/checkpointrestore/StringAppenderInMemoryStateApp.java @@ -0,0 +1,85 @@ +package edu.umass.cs.gigapaxos.examples.checkpointrestore; + +import edu.umass.cs.gigapaxos.PaxosConfig; +import edu.umass.cs.gigapaxos.interfaces.Replicable; +import edu.umass.cs.gigapaxos.interfaces.Request; +import edu.umass.cs.gigapaxos.paxospackets.RequestPacket; +import edu.umass.cs.nio.interfaces.IntegerPacketType; +import edu.umass.cs.reconfiguration.reconfigurationutils.RequestParseException; +import edu.umass.cs.utils.Config; +import org.json.JSONException; +import org.json.JSONObject; + +import java.util.Set; + +public class StringAppenderInMemoryStateApp implements Replicable { + + protected String text; + + public StringAppenderInMemoryStateApp() { + super(); + this.text = ""; + // TODO: setup connection to the data store and keyspace + //throw new RuntimeException("Not yet implemented"); + } + + @Override + public boolean execute(Request request) { + if (request instanceof RequestPacket) { + String requestValue = ((RequestPacket) request).requestValue; + try { + JSONObject jsonObject = new JSONObject(requestValue); + String typeOfReq = jsonObject.getString("type"); + switch (typeOfReq) { + case "type": + this.text += jsonObject.getString("value"); + break; + case "backspace": + this.text = this.text.substring(0, this.text.length() - 1); + break; + case "newline": + this.text += System.lineSeparator(); + break; + case "cleartext": + this.text = ""; + break; + } + } catch (JSONException e) { + e.printStackTrace(); + } + ((RequestPacket) request).setResponse("Current text = " + this.text); + } else System.err.println("Unknown request type: " + request.getRequestType()); + return true; + } + + @Override + public boolean execute(Request request, boolean doNotReplyToClient) { + return this.execute(request); + } + + @Override + public String checkpoint(String name) { + return this.text; + } + + @Override + public boolean restore(String name, String state) { + if (state == null || state.equals(Config.getGlobalString(PaxosConfig.PC + .DEFAULT_NAME_INITIAL_STATE))) { + this.text = ""; + } else { + this.text = state; + } + return true; + } + + @Override + public Request getRequest(String stringified) throws RequestParseException { + return null; + } + + @Override + public Set getRequestTypes() { + return null; + } +} diff --git a/src/edu/umass/cs/gigapaxos/examples/checkpointrestore/helperfiles/The_Blue_Castle.txt b/src/edu/umass/cs/gigapaxos/examples/checkpointrestore/helperfiles/The_Blue_Castle.txt new file mode 100644 index 00000000..b7bdb7b1 --- /dev/null +++ b/src/edu/umass/cs/gigapaxos/examples/checkpointrestore/helperfiles/The_Blue_Castle.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8541 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Blue Castle: a novel + +This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online +at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, +you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located +before using this eBook. + +Title: The Blue Castle: a novel + +Author: L. M. Montgomery + +Release date: May 3, 2022 [eBook #67979] + Most recently updated: July 14, 2023 + +Language: English + +Original publication: United States: Frederick A. Stokes company, 1926 + +Credits: Laura Natal Rodrigues (Images generously made available by Hathi Trust Digital Library.) + + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BLUE CASTLE: A NOVEL *** + + + + +_The_ +BLUE CASTLE + +_A NOVEL_ + +BY +L. M. MONTGOMERY + +NEW YORK +FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY +MCMXXVI + + + + +CONTENTS + + CHAPTER I + CHAPTER II + CHAPTER III + CHAPTER IV + CHAPTER V + CHAPTER VI + CHAPTER VII + CHAPTER VIII + CHAPTER IX + CHAPTER X + CHAPTER XI + CHAPTER XII + CHAPTER XIII + CHAPTER XIV + CHAPTER XV + CHAPTER XVI + CHAPTER XVII + CHAPTER XVIII + CHAPTER XIX + CHAPTER XX + CHAPTER XXI + CHAPTER XXII + CHAPTER XXIII + CHAPTER XXIV + CHAPTER XXV + CHAPTER XXVI + CHAPTER XXVII + CHAPTER XXVIII + CHAPTER XXIX + CHAPTER XXX + CHAPTER XXXI + CHAPTER XXXII + CHAPTER XXXIII + CHAPTER XXXIV + CHAPTER XXXV + CHAPTER XXXVI + CHAPTER XXXVII + CHAPTER XXXVIII + CHAPTER XXXIX + CHAPTER XL + CHAPTER XLI + CHAPTER XLII + CHAPTER XLIII + CHAPTER XLIV + CHAPTER XLV + + + + +THE BLUE CASTLE + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +If it had not rained on a certain May morning Valancy Stirling’s whole +life would have been entirely different. She would have gone, with the +rest of her clan, to Aunt Wellington’s engagement picnic and Dr. Trent +would have gone to Montreal. But it did rain and you shall hear what +happened to her because of it. + +Valancy wakened early, in the lifeless, hopeless hour just preceding +dawn. She had not slept very well. One does not sleep well, sometimes, +when one is twenty-nine on the morrow, and unmarried, in a community +and connection where the unmarried are simply those who have failed to +get a man. + +Deerwood and the Stirlings had long since relegated Valancy to hopeless +old maidenhood. But Valancy herself had never quite relinquished a +certain pitiful, shamed, little hope that Romance would come her way +yet—never, until this wet, horrible morning, when she wakened to the +fact that she was twenty-nine and unsought by any man. + +Ay, _there_ lay the sting. Valancy did not mind so much being an old +maid. After all, she thought, being an old maid couldn’t possibly be as +dreadful as being married to an Uncle Wellington or an Uncle Benjamin, +or even an Uncle Herbert. What hurt her was that she had never had a +chance to be anything but an old maid. No man had ever desired her. + +The tears came into her eyes as she lay there alone in the faintly +greying darkness. She dared not let herself cry as hard as she wanted +to, for two reasons. She was afraid that crying might bring on another +attack of that pain around the heart. She had had a spell of it after +she had got into bed—rather worse than any she had had yet. And she was +afraid her mother would notice her red eyes at breakfast and keep at +her with minute, persistent, mosquito-like questions regarding the +cause thereof. + +“Suppose,†thought Valancy with a ghastly grin, “I answered with the +plain truth, ‘I am crying because I cannot get married.’ How horrified +Mother would be—though she is ashamed every day of her life of her old +maid daughter.†+ +But of course appearances should be kept up. “It is not,†Valancy could +hear her mother’s prim, dictatorial voice asserting, “it is not +_maidenly_ to think about _men_.†+ +The thought of her mother’s expression made Valancy laugh—for she had a +sense of humour nobody in her clan suspected. For that matter, there +were a good many things about Valancy that nobody suspected. But her +laughter was very superficial and presently she lay there, a huddled, +futile little figure, listening to the rain pouring down outside and +watching, with a sick distaste, the chill, merciless light creeping +into her ugly, sordid room. + +She knew the ugliness of that room by heart—knew it and hated it. The +yellow-painted floor, with one hideous, “hooked†rug by the bed, with a +grotesque, “hooked†dog on it, always grinning at her when she awoke; +the faded, dark-red paper; the ceiling discoloured by old leaks and +crossed by cracks; the narrow, pinched little washstand; the +brown-paper lambrequin with purple roses on it; the spotted old +looking-glass with the crack across it, propped up on the inadequate +dressing-table; the jar of ancient potpourri made by her mother in her +mythical honeymoon; the shell-covered box, with one burst corner, which +Cousin Stickles had made in her equally mythical girlhood; the beaded +pincushion with half its bead fringe gone; the one stiff, yellow chair; +the faded old motto, “Gone but not forgotten,†worked in coloured yarns +about Great-grand-mother Stirling’s grim old face; the old photographs +of ancient relatives long banished from the rooms below. There were +only two pictures that were not of relatives. One, an old chromo of a +puppy sitting on a rainy doorstep. That picture always made Valancy +unhappy. That forlorn little dog crouched on the doorstep in the +driving rain! Why didn’t _some one_ open the door and let him in? The +other picture was a faded, passe-partouted engraving of Queen Louise +coming down a stairway, which Aunt Wellington had lavishly given her on +her tenth birthday. For nineteen years she had looked at it and hated +it, beautiful, smug, self-satisfied Queen Louise. But she never dared +destroy it or remove it. Mother and Cousin Stickles would have been +aghast, or, as Valancy irreverently expressed it in her thoughts, would +have had a fit. + +Every room in the house was ugly, of course. But downstairs appearances +were kept up somewhat. There was no money for rooms nobody ever saw. +Valancy sometimes felt that she could have done something for her room +herself, even without money, if she were permitted. But her mother had +negatived every timid suggestion and Valancy did not persist. Valancy +never persisted. She was afraid to. Her mother could not brook +opposition. Mrs. Stirling would sulk for days if offended, with the +airs of an insulted duchess. + +The only thing Valancy liked about her room was that she could be alone +there at night to cry if she wanted to. + +But, after all, what did it matter if a room, which you used for +nothing except sleeping and dressing in, were ugly? Valancy was never +permitted to stay alone in her room for any other purpose. People who +wanted to be alone, so Mrs. Frederick Stirling and Cousin Stickles +believed, could only want to be alone for some sinister purpose. But +her room in the Blue Castle was everything a room should be. + +Valancy, so cowed and subdued and overridden and snubbed in real life, +was wont to let herself go rather splendidly in her day-dreams. Nobody +in the Stirling clan, or its ramifications, suspected this, least of +all her mother and Cousin Stickles. They never knew that Valancy had +two homes—the ugly red brick box of a home, on Elm Street, and the Blue +Castle in Spain. Valancy had lived spiritually in the Blue Castle ever +since she could remember. She had been a very tiny child when she found +herself possessed of it. Always, when she shut her eyes, she could see +it plainly, with its turrets and banners on the pine-clad mountain +height, wrapped in its faint, blue loveliness, against the sunset skies +of a fair and unknown land. Everything wonderful and beautiful was in +that castle. Jewels that queens might have worn; robes of moonlight and +fire; couches of roses and gold; long flights of shallow marble steps, +with great, white urns, and with slender, mist-clad maidens going up +and down them; courts, marble-pillared, where shimmering fountains fell +and nightingales sang among the myrtles; halls of mirrors that +reflected only handsome knights and lovely women—herself the loveliest +of all, for whose glance men died. All that supported her through the +boredom of her days was the hope of going on a dream spree at night. +Most, if not all, of the Stirlings would have died of horror if they +had known half the things Valancy did in her Blue Castle. + +For one thing she had quite a few lovers in it. Oh, only one at a time. +One who wooed her with all the romantic ardour of the age of chivalry +and won her after long devotion and many deeds of derring-do, and was +wedded to her with pomp and circumstance in the great, banner-hung +chapel of the Blue Castle. + +At twelve, this lover was a fair lad with golden curls and heavenly +blue eyes. At fifteen, he was tall and dark and pale, but still +necessarily handsome. At twenty, he was ascetic, dreamy, spiritual. At +twenty-five, he had a clean-cut jaw, slightly grim, and a face strong +and rugged rather than handsome. Valancy never grew older than +twenty-five in her Blue Castle, but recently—very recently—her hero had +had reddish, tawny hair, a twisted smile and a mysterious past. + +I don’t say Valancy deliberately murdered these lovers as she outgrew +them. One simply faded away as another came. Things are very convenient +in this respect in Blue Castles. + +But, on this morning of her day of fate, Valancy could not find the key +of her Blue Castle. Reality pressed on her too hardly, barking at her +heels like a maddening little dog. She was twenty-nine, lonely, +undesired, ill-favoured—the only homely girl in a handsome clan, with +no past and no future. As far as she could look back, life was drab and +colourless, with not one single crimson or purple spot anywhere. As far +as she could look forward it seemed certain to be just the same until +she was nothing but a solitary, little withered leaf clinging to a +wintry bough. The moment when a woman realises that she has nothing to +live for—neither love, duty, purpose nor hope—holds for her the +bitterness of death. + +“And I just have to go on living because I can’t stop. I may have to +live eighty years,†thought Valancy, in a kind of panic. “We’re all +horribly long-lived. It sickens me to think of it.†+ +She was glad it was raining—or rather, she was drearily satisfied that +it was raining. There would be no picnic that day. This annual picnic, +whereby Aunt and Uncle Wellington—one always thought of them in that +succession—inevitably celebrated their engagement at a picnic thirty +years before, had been, of late years, a veritable nightmare to +Valancy. By an impish coincidence it was the same day as her birthday +and, after she had passed twenty-five, nobody let her forget it. + +Much as she hated going to the picnic, it would never have occurred to +her to rebel against it. There seemed to be nothing of the +revolutionary in her nature. And she knew exactly what every one would +say to her at the picnic. Uncle Wellington, whom she disliked and +despised even though he had fulfilled the highest Stirling aspiration, +“marrying money,†would say to her in a pig’s whisper, “Not thinking of +getting married yet, my dear?†and then go off into the bellow of +laughter with which he invariably concluded his dull remarks. Aunt +Wellington, of whom Valancy stood in abject awe, would tell her about +Olive’s new chiffon dress and Cecil’s last devoted letter. Valancy +would have to look as pleased and interested as if the dress and letter +had been hers or else Aunt Wellington would be offended. And Valancy +had long ago decided that she would rather offend God than Aunt +Wellington, because God might forgive her but Aunt Wellington never +would. + +Aunt Alberta, enormously fat, with an amiable habit of always referring +to her husband as “he,†as if he were the only male creature in the +world, who could never forget that she had been a great beauty in her +youth, would condole with Valancy on her sallow skin— + +“I don’t know why all the girls of today are so sunburned. When _I_ was +a girl my skin was roses and cream. I was counted the prettiest girl in +Canada, my dear.†+ +Perhaps Uncle Herbert wouldn’t say anything—or perhaps he would remark +jocularly, “How fat you’re getting, Doss!†And then everybody would +laugh over the excessively humorous idea of poor, scrawny little Doss +getting fat. + +Handsome, solemn Uncle James, whom Valancy disliked but respected +because he was reputed to be very clever and was therefore the clan +oracle—brains being none too plentiful in the Stirling connection—would +probably remark with the owl-like sarcasm that had won him his +reputation, “I suppose you’re busy with your hope-chest these days?†+ +And Uncle Benjamin would ask some of his abominable conundrums, between +wheezy chuckles, and answer them himself. + +“What is the difference between Doss and a mouse? + +“The mouse wishes to harm the cheese and Doss wishes to charm the +he’s.†+ +Valancy had heard him ask that riddle fifty times and every time she +wanted to throw something at him. But she never did. In the first +place, the Stirlings simply did not throw things; in the second place, +Uncle Benjamin was a wealthy and childless old widower and Valancy had +been brought up in the fear and admonition of his money. If she +offended him he would cut her out of his will—supposing she were in it. +Valancy did not want to be cut out of Uncle Benjamin’s will. She had +been poor all her life and knew the galling bitterness of it. So she +endured his riddles and even smiled tortured little smiles over them. + +Aunt Isabel, downright and disagreeable as an east wind, would +criticise her in some way—Valancy could not predict just how, for Aunt +Isabel never repeated a criticism—she found something new with which to +jab you every time. Aunt Isabel prided herself on saying what she +thought, but didn’t like it so well when other people said what _they_ +thought to _her_. Valancy never said what _she_ thought. + +Cousin Georgiana—named after her great-great-grand-mother, who had been +named after George the Fourth—would recount dolorously the names of all +relatives and friends who had died since the last picnic and wonder +“which of us will be the first to go next.†+ +Oppressively competent, Aunt Mildred would talk endlessly of her +husband and her odious prodigies of babies to Valancy, because Valancy +would be the only one she could find to put up with it. For the same +reason, Cousin Gladys—really First Cousin Gladys once removed, +according to the strict way in which the Stirlings tabulated +relationship—a tall, thin lady who admitted she had a sensitive +disposition, would describe minutely the tortures of her neuritis. And +Olive, the wonder girl of the whole Stirling clan, who had everything +Valancy had not—beauty, popularity, love,—would show off her beauty and +presume on her popularity and flaunt her diamond insignia of love in +Valancy’s dazzled, envious eyes. + +There would be none of all this today. And there would be no packing up +of teaspoons. The packing up was always left for Valancy and Cousin +Stickles. And once, six years ago, a silver teaspoon from Aunt +Wellington’s wedding set had been lost. Valancy never heard the last of +that silver teaspoon. Its ghost appeared Banquo-like at every +subsequent family feast. + +Oh, yes, Valancy knew exactly what the picnic would be like and she +blessed the rain that had saved her from it. There would be no picnic +this year. If Aunt Wellington could not celebrate on the sacred day +itself she would have no celebration at all. Thank whatever gods there +were for that. + +Since there would be no picnic, Valancy made up her mind that, if the +rain held up in the afternoon, she would go up to the library and get +another of John Foster’s books. Valancy was never allowed to read +novels, but John Foster’s books were not novels. They were “nature +booksâ€â€”so the librarian told Mrs. Frederick Stirling—“all about the +woods and birds and bugs and things like that, you know.†So Valancy +was allowed to read them—under protest, for it was only too evident +that she enjoyed them too much. It was permissible, even laudable, to +read to improve your mind and your religion, but a book that was +enjoyable was dangerous. Valancy did not know whether her mind was +being improved or not; but she felt vaguely that if she had come across +John Foster’s books years ago life might have been a different thing +for her. They seemed to her to yield glimpses of a world into which she +might once have entered, though the door was forever barred to her now. +It was only within the last year that John Foster’s books had been in +the Deerwood library, though the librarian told Valancy that he had +been a well-known writer for several years. + +“Where does he live?†Valancy had asked. + +“Nobody knows. From his books he must be a Canadian, but no more +information can be had. His publishers won’t say a word. Quite likely +John Foster is a nom de plume. His books are so popular we can’t keep +them in at all, though I really can’t see what people find in them to +rave over.†+ +“I think they’re wonderful,†said Valancy, timidly. + +“Oh—well—†Miss Clarkson smiled in a patronising fashion that relegated +Valancy’s opinions to limbo, “I can’t say I care much for bugs myself. +But certainly Foster seems to know all there is to know about them.†+ +Valancy didn’t know whether she cared much for bugs either. It was not +John Foster’s uncanny knowledge of wild creatures and insect life that +enthralled her. She could hardly say what it was—some tantalising lure +of a mystery never revealed—some hint of a great secret just a little +further on—some faint, elusive echo of lovely, forgotten things—John +Foster’s magic was indefinable. + +Yes, she would get a new Foster book. It was a month since she had +_Thistle Harvest_, so surely Mother could not object. Valancy had read +it four times—she knew whole passages off by heart. + +And—she almost thought she would go and see Dr. Trent about that queer +pain around the heart. It had come rather often lately, and the +palpitations were becoming annoying, not to speak of an occasional +dizzy moment and a queer shortness of breath. But could she go to see +him without telling any one? It was a most daring thought. None of the +Stirlings ever consulted a doctor without holding a family council and +getting Uncle James’ approval. _Then_, they went to Dr. Ambrose Marsh +of Port Lawrence, who had married Second Cousin Adelaide Stirling. + +But Valancy disliked Dr. Ambrose Marsh. And, besides, she could not get +to Port Lawrence, fifteen miles away, without being taken there. She +did not want any one to know about her heart. There would be such a +fuss made and every member of the family would come down and talk it +over and advise her and caution her and warn her and tell her horrible +tales of great-aunts and cousins forty times removed who had been “just +like that†and “dropped dead without a moment’s warning, my dear.†+ +Aunt Isabel would remember that she had always said Doss looked like a +girl who would have heart trouble—“so pinched and peaked alwaysâ€; and +Uncle Wellington would take it as a personal insult, when “no Stirling +ever had heart disease beforeâ€; and Georgiana would forebode in +perfectly audible asides that “poor, dear little Doss isn’t long for +this world, I’m afraidâ€; and Cousin Gladys would say, “Why, _my_ heart +has been like that for _years_,†in a tone that implied no one else had +any business even to have a heart; and Olive—Olive would merely look +beautiful and superior and disgustingly healthy, as if to say, “Why all +this fuss over a faded superfluity like Doss when you have _me_?†+ +Valancy felt that she couldn’t tell anybody unless she had to. She felt +quite sure there was nothing at all seriously wrong with her heart and +no need of all the pother that would ensue if she mentioned it. She +would just slip up quietly and see Dr. Trent that very day. As for his +bill, she had the two hundred dollars that her father had put in the +bank for her the day she was born. She was never allowed to use even +the interest of this, but she would secretly take out enough to pay Dr. +Trent. + +Dr. Trent was a gruff, outspoken, absent-minded old fellow, but he was +a recognised authority on heart disease, even if he were only a general +practitioner in out-of-the-world Deerwood. Dr. Trent was over seventy +and there had been rumours that he meant to retire soon. None of the +Stirling clan had ever gone to him since he had told Cousin Gladys, ten +years before, that her neuritis was all imaginary and that she enjoyed +it. You couldn’t patronise a doctor who insulted your +first-cousin-once-removed like that—not to mention that he was a +Presbyterian when all the Stirlings went to the Anglican church. But +Valancy, between the devil of disloyalty to clan and the deep sea of +fuss and clatter and advice, thought she would take a chance with the +devil. + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +When Cousin Stickles knocked at her door, Valancy knew it was half-past +seven and she must get up. As long as she could remember, Cousin +Stickles had knocked at her door at half-past seven. Cousin Stickles +and Mrs. Frederick Stirling had been up since seven, but Valancy was +allowed to lie abed half an hour longer because of a family tradition +that she was delicate. Valancy got up, though she hated getting up more +this morning than ever she had before. What was there to get up for? +Another dreary day like all the days that had preceded it, full of +meaningless little tasks, joyless and unimportant, that benefited +nobody. But if she did not get up at once she would not be ready for +breakfast at eight o’clock. Hard and fast times for meals were the rule +in Mrs. Stirling’s household. Breakfast at eight, dinner at one, supper +at six, year in and year out. No excuses for being late were ever +tolerated. So up Valancy got, shivering. + +The room was bitterly cold with the raw, penetrating chill of a wet May +morning. The house would be cold all day. It was one of Mrs. +Frederick’s rules that no fires were necessary after the twenty-fourth +of May. Meals were cooked on the little oil-stove in the back porch. +And though May might be icy and October frost-bitten, no fires were +lighted until the twenty-first of October by the calendar. On the +twenty-first of October Mrs. Frederick began cooking over the kitchen +range and lighted a fire in the sitting-room stove in the evenings. It +was whispered about in the connection that the late Frederick Stirling +had caught the cold which resulted in his death during Valancy’s first +year of life because Mrs. Frederick would not have a fire on the +twentieth of October. She lighted it the next day—but that was a day +too late for Frederick Stirling. + +Valancy took off and hung up in the closet her nightdress of coarse, +unbleached cotton, with high neck and long, tight sleeves. She put on +undergarments of a similar nature, a dress of brown gingham, thick, +black stockings and rubber-heeled boots. Of late years she had fallen +into the habit of doing her hair with the shade of the window by the +looking-glass pulled down. The lines on her face did not show so +plainly then. But this morning she jerked the shade to the very top and +looked at herself in the leprous mirror with a passionate determination +to see herself as the world saw her. + +The result was rather dreadful. Even a beauty would have found that +harsh, unsoftened side-light trying. Valancy saw straight black hair, +short and thin, always lustreless despite the fact that she gave it one +hundred strokes of the brush, neither more nor less, every night of her +life and faithfully rubbed Redfern’s Hair Vigor into the roots, more +lustreless than ever in its morning roughness; fine, straight, black +brows; a nose she had always felt was much too small even for her +small, three-cornered, white face; a small, pale mouth that always fell +open a trifle over little, pointed white teeth; a figure thin and +flat-breasted, rather below the average height. She had somehow escaped +the family high cheek-bones, and her dark-brown eyes, too soft and +shadowy to be black, had a slant that was almost Oriental. Apart from +her eyes she was neither pretty nor ugly—just insignificant-looking, +she concluded bitterly. How plain the lines around her eyes and mouth +were in that merciless light! And never had her narrow, white face +looked so narrow and so white. + +She did her hair in a pompadour. Pompadours had long gone out of +fashion, but they had been in when Valancy first put her hair up and +Aunt Wellington had decided that she must always wear her hair so. + +“It is the _only_ way that becomes you. Your face is so small that you +_must_ add height to it by a pompadour effect,†said Aunt Wellington, +who always enunciated commonplaces as if uttering profound and +important truths. + +Valancy had hankered to do her hair pulled low on her forehead, with +puffs above the ears, as Olive was wearing hers. But Aunt Wellington’s +dictum had such an effect on her that she never dared change her style +of hairdressing again. But then, there were so many things Valancy +never dared do. + +All her life she had been afraid of something, she thought bitterly. +From the very dawn of recollection, when she had been so horribly +afraid of the big black bear that lived, so Cousin Stickles told her, +in the closet under the stairs. + +“And I always will be—I know it—I can’t help it. I don’t know what it +would be like not to be afraid of something.†+ +Afraid of her mother’s sulky fits—afraid of offending Uncle +Benjamin—afraid of becoming a target for Aunt Wellington’s +contempt—afraid of Aunt Isabel’s biting comments—afraid of Uncle James’ +disapproval—afraid of offending the whole clan’s opinions and +prejudices—afraid of not keeping up appearances—afraid to say what she +really thought of anything—afraid of poverty in her old age. +Fear—fear—fear—she could never escape from it. It bound her and +enmeshed her like a spider’s web of steel. Only in her Blue Castle +could she find temporary release. And this morning Valancy could not +believe she had a Blue Castle. She would never be able to find it +again. Twenty-nine, unmarried, undesired—what had she to do with the +fairy-like chatelaine of the Blue Castle? She would cut such childish +nonsense out of her life forever and face reality unflinchingly. + +She turned from her unfriendly mirror and looked out. The ugliness of +the view always struck her like a blow; the ragged fence, the +tumble-down old carriage-shop in the next lot, plastered with crude, +violently coloured advertisements; the grimy railway station beyond, +with the awful derelicts that were always hanging around it even at +this early hour. In the pouring rain everything looked worse than +usual, especially the beastly advertisement, “Keep that schoolgirl +complexion.†Valancy _had_ kept her schoolgirl complexion. That was +just the trouble. There was not a gleam of beauty anywhere—“exactly +like my life,†thought Valancy drearily. Her brief bitterness had +passed. She accepted facts as resignedly as she had always accepted +them. She was one of the people whom life always passes by. There was +no altering that fact. + +In this mood Valancy went down to breakfast. + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +Breakfast was always the same. Oatmeal porridge, which Valancy loathed, +toast and tea, and one teaspoonful of marmalade. Mrs. Frederick thought +two teaspoonfuls extravagant—but that did not matter to Valancy, who +hated marmalade, too. The chilly, gloomy little dining-room was +chillier and gloomier than usual; the rain streamed down outside the +window; departed Stirlings, in atrocious, gilt frames, wider than the +pictures, glowered down from the walls. And yet Cousin Stickles wished +Valancy many happy returns of the day! + +“Sit up straight, Doss,†was all her mother said. + +Valancy sat up straight. She talked to her mother and Cousin Stickles +of the things they always talked of. She never wondered what would +happen if she tried to talk of something else. She knew. Therefore she +never did it. + +Mrs. Frederick was offended with Providence for sending a rainy day +when she wanted to go to a picnic, so she ate her breakfast in a sulky +silence for which Valancy was rather grateful. But Christine Stickles +whined endlessly on as usual, complaining about everything—the weather, +the leak in the pantry, the price of oatmeal and butter—Valancy felt at +once she had buttered her toast too lavishly—the epidemic of mumps in +Deerwood. + +“Doss will be sure to ketch them,†she foreboded. + +“Doss must not go where she is likely to catch mumps,†said Mrs. +Frederick shortly. + +Valancy had never had mumps—or whooping cough—or chicken-pox—or +measles—or anything she should have had—nothing but horrible colds +every winter. Doss’ winter colds were a sort of tradition in the +family. Nothing, it seemed, could prevent her from catching them. Mrs. +Frederick and Cousin Stickles did their heroic best. One winter they +kept Valancy housed up from November to May, in the warm sitting-room. +She was not even allowed to go to church. And Valancy took cold after +cold and ended up with bronchitis in June. + +“None of _my_ family were ever like that,†said Mrs. Frederick, +implying that it must be a Stirling tendency. + +“The Stirlings seldom take colds,†said Cousin Stickles resentfully. +_She_ had been a Stirling. + +“I think,†said Mrs. Frederick, “that if a person makes up her mind +_not_ to have colds she will not _have_ colds.†+ +So that was the trouble. It was all Valancy’s own fault. + +But on this particular morning Valancy’s unbearable grievance was that +she was called Doss. She had endured it for twenty-nine years, and all +at once she felt she could not endure it any longer. Her full name was +Valancy Jane. Valancy Jane was rather terrible, but she liked Valancy, +with its odd, out-land tang. It was always a wonder to Valancy that the +Stirlings had allowed her to be so christened. She had been told that +her maternal grandfather, old Amos Wansbarra, had chosen the name for +her. Her father had tacked on the Jane by way of civilising it, and the +whole connection got out of the difficulty by nicknaming her Doss. She +never got Valancy from any one but outsiders. + +“Mother,†she said timidly, “would you mind calling me Valancy after +this? Doss seems so—so—I don’t like it.†+ +Mrs. Frederick looked at her daughter in astonishment. She wore glasses +with enormously strong lenses that gave her eyes a peculiarly +disagreeable appearance. + +“What is the matter with Doss?†+ +“It—seems so childish,†faltered Valancy. + +“Oh!†Mrs. Frederick had been a Wansbarra and the Wansbarra smile was +not an asset. “I see. Well, it should suit _you_ then. You are childish +enough in all conscience, my dear child.†+ +“I am twenty-nine,†said the dear child desperately. + +“I wouldn’t proclaim it from the house-tops if I were you, dear,†said +Mrs. Frederick. “Twenty-nine! _I_ had been married nine years when I +was twenty-nine.†+ +“_I_ was married at seventeen,†said Cousin Stickles proudly. + +Valancy looked at them furtively. Mrs. Frederick, except for those +terrible glasses and the hooked nose that made her look more like a +parrot than a parrot itself could look, was not ill-looking. At twenty +she might have been quite pretty. But Cousin Stickles! And yet +Christine Stickles had once been desirable in some man’s eyes. Valancy +felt that Cousin Stickles, with her broad, flat, wrinkled face, a mole +right on the end of her dumpy nose, bristling hairs on her chin, +wrinkled yellow neck, pale, protruding eyes, and thin, puckered mouth, +had yet this advantage over her—this right to look down on her. And +even yet Cousin Stickles was necessary to Mrs. Frederick. Valancy +wondered pitifully what it would be like to be wanted by some +one—needed by some one. No one in the whole world needed her, or would +miss anything from life if she dropped suddenly out of it. She was a +disappointment to her mother. No one loved her. She had never so much +as had a girl friend. + +“I haven’t even a gift for friendship,†she had once admitted to +herself pitifully. + +“Doss, you haven’t eaten your crusts,†said Mrs. Frederick rebukingly. + +It rained all the forenoon without cessation. Valancy pieced a quilt. +Valancy hated piecing quilts. And there was no need of it. The house +was full of quilts. There were three big chests, packed with quilts, in +the attic. Mrs. Frederick had begun storing away quilts when Valancy +was seventeen and she kept on storing them, though it did not seem +likely that Valancy would ever need them. But Valancy must be at work +and fancy work materials were too expensive. Idleness was a cardinal +sin in the Stirling household. When Valancy had been a child she had +been made to write down every night, in a small, hated, black notebook, +all the minutes she had spent in idleness that day. On Sundays her +mother made her tot them up and pray over them. + +On this particular forenoon of this day of destiny Valancy spent only +ten minutes in idleness. At least, Mrs. Frederick and Cousin Stickles +would have called it idleness. She went to her room to get a better +thimble and she opened _Thistle Harvest_ guiltily at random. + +“The woods are so human,†wrote John Foster, “that to know them one +must live with them. An occasional saunter through them, keeping to the +well-trodden paths, will never admit us to their intimacy. If we wish +to be friends we must seek them out and win them by frequent, reverent +visits at all hours; by morning, by noon, and by night; and at all +seasons, in spring, in summer, in autumn, in winter. Otherwise we can +never really know them and any pretence we may make to the contrary +will never impose on them. They have their own effective way of keeping +aliens at a distance and shutting their hearts to mere casual +sightseers. It is of no use to seek the woods from any motive except +sheer love of them; they will find us out at once and hide all their +sweet, old-world secrets from us. But if they know we come to them +because we love them they will be very kind to us and give us such +treasures of beauty and delight as are not bought or sold in any +market-place. For the woods, when they give at all, give unstintedly +and hold nothing back from their true worshippers. We must go to them +lovingly, humbly, patiently, watchfully, and we shall learn what +poignant loveliness lurks in the wild places and silent intervals, +lying under starshine and sunset, what cadences of unearthly music are +harped on aged pine boughs or crooned in copses of fir, what delicate +savours exhale from mosses and ferns in sunny corners or on damp +brooklands, what dreams and myths and legends of an older time haunt +them. Then the immortal heart of the woods will beat against ours and +its subtle life will steal into our veins and make us its own forever, +so that no matter where we go or how widely we wander we shall yet be +drawn back to the forest to find our most enduring kinship.†+ +“Doss,†called her mother from the hall below, “what are you doing all +by yourself in that room?†+ +Valancy dropped _Thistle Harvest_ like a hot coal and fled downstairs +to her patches; but she felt the strange exhilaration of spirit that +always came momentarily to her when she dipped into one of John +Foster’s books. Valancy did not know much about woods—except the +haunted groves of oak and pine around her Blue Castle. But she had +always secretly hankered after them and a Foster book about woods was +the next best thing to the woods themselves. + +At noon it stopped raining, but the sun did not come out until three. +Then Valancy timidly said she thought she would go uptown. + +“What do you want to go uptown for?†demanded her mother. + +“I want to get a book from the library.†+ +“You got a book from the library only last week.†+ +“No, it was four weeks.†+ +“Four weeks. Nonsense!†+ +“Really it was, Mother.†+ +“You are mistaken. It cannot possibly have been more than two weeks. I +dislike contradiction. And I do not see what you want to get a book +for, anyhow. You waste too much time reading.†+ +“Of what value is my time?†asked Valancy bitterly. + +“Doss! Don’t speak in that tone to _me_.†+ +“We need some tea,†said Cousin Stickles. “She might go and get that if +she wants a walk—though this damp weather is bad for colds.†+ +They argued the matter for ten minutes longer and finally Mrs. +Frederick agreed rather grudgingly that Valancy might go. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +“Got your rubbers on?†called Cousin Stickles, as Valancy left the +house. + +Christine Stickles had never once forgotten to ask that question when +Valancy went out on a damp day. + +“Yes.†+ +“Have you got your flannel petticoat on?†asked Mrs. Frederick. + +“No.†+ +“Doss, I really do not understand you. Do you want to catch your death +of cold _again_?†Her voice implied that Valancy had died of a cold +several times already. “Go upstairs this minute and put it on!†+ +“Mother, I don’t _need_ a flannel petticoat. My sateen one is warm +enough.†+ +“Doss, remember you had bronchitis two years ago. Go and do as you are +told!†+ +Valancy went, though nobody will ever know just how near she came to +hurling the rubber-plant into the street before she went. She hated +that grey flannel petticoat more than any other garment she owned. +Olive never had to wear flannel petticoats. Olive wore ruffled silk and +sheer lawn and filmy laced flounces. But Olive’s father had “married +money†and Olive never had bronchitis. So there you were. + +“Are you sure you didn’t leave the soap in the water?†demanded Mrs. +Frederick. But Valancy was gone. She turned at the corner and looked +back down the ugly, prim, respectable street where she lived. The +Stirling house was the ugliest on it—more like a red brick box than +anything else. Too high for its breadth, and made still higher by a +bulbous glass cupola on top. About it was the desolate, barren peace of +an old house whose life is lived. + +There was a very pretty little house, with leaded casements and dubbed +gables, just around the corner—a new house, one of those houses you +love the minute you see them. Clayton Markley had built it for his +bride. He was to be married to Jennie Lloyd in June. The little house, +it was said, was furnished from attic to cellar, in complete readiness +for its mistress. + +“I don’t envy Jennie the man,†thought Valancy sincerely—Clayton +Markley was not one of her many ideals—“but I _do_ envy her the house. +It’s such a nice young house. Oh, if I could only have a house of my +own—ever so poor, so tiny—but my own! But then,†she added bitterly, +“there is no use in yowling for the moon when you can’t even get a +tallow candle.†+ +In dreamland nothing would do Valancy but a castle of pale sapphire. In +real life she would have been fully satisfied with a little house of +her own. She envied Jennie Lloyd more fiercely than ever today. Jennie +was not so much better looking than she was, and not so very much +younger. Yet she was to have this delightful house. And the nicest +little Wedgwood teacups—Valancy had seen them; an open fireplace, and +monogrammed linen; hemstitched tablecloths, and china-closets. Why did +_everything_ come to some girls and _nothing_ to others? It wasn’t +fair. + +Valancy was once more seething with rebellion as she walked along, a +prim, dowdy little figure in her shabby raincoat and three-year-old +hat, splashed occasionally by the mud of a passing motor with its +insulting shrieks. Motors were still rather a novelty in Deerwood, +though they were common in Port Lawrence, and most of the summer +residents up at Muskoka had them. In Deerwood only some of the smart +set had them; for even Deerwood was divided into sets. There was the +smart set—the intellectual set—the old-family set—of which the +Stirlings were members—the common run, and a few pariahs. Not one of +the Stirling clan had as yet condescended to a motor, though Olive was +teasing her father to have one. Valancy had never even been in a +motorcar. But she did not hanker after this. In truth, she felt rather +afraid of motorcars, especially at night. They seemed to be too much +like big purring beasts that might turn and crush you—or make some +terrible savage leap somewhere. On the steep mountain trails around her +Blue Castle only gaily caparisoned steeds might proudly pace; in real +life Valancy would have been quite contented to drive in a buggy behind +a nice horse. She got a buggy drive only when some uncle or cousin +remembered to fling her “a chance,†like a bone to a dog. + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +Of course she must buy the tea in Uncle Benjamin’s grocery-store. To +buy it anywhere else was unthinkable. Yet Valancy hated to go to Uncle +Benjamin’s store on her twenty-ninth birthday. There was no hope that +he would not remember it. + +“Why,†demanded Uncle Benjamin, leeringly, as he tied up her tea, “are +young ladies like bad grammarians?†+ +Valancy, with Uncle Benjamin’s will in the background of her mind, said +meekly, “I don’t know. Why?†+ +“Because,†chuckled Uncle Benjamin, “they can’t decline matrimony.†+ +The two clerks, Joe Hammond and Claude Bertram, chuckled also, and +Valancy disliked them a little more than ever. On the first day Claude +Bertram had seen her in the store she had heard him whisper to Joe, +“Who is that?†And Joe had said, “Valancy Stirling—one of the Deerwood +old maids.†“Curable or incurable?†Claude had asked with a snicker, +evidently thinking the question very clever. Valancy smarted anew with +the sting of that old recollection. + +“Twenty-nine,†Uncle Benjamin was saying. “Dear me, Doss, you’re +dangerously near the second corner and not even thinking of getting +married yet. Twenty-nine. It seems impossible.†+ +Then Uncle Benjamin said an original thing. Uncle Benjamin said, “How +time does fly!†+ +“_I_ think it _crawls_,†said Valancy passionately. Passion was so +alien to Uncle Benjamin’s conception of Valancy that he didn’t know +what to make of her. To cover his confusion, he asked another conundrum +as he tied up her beans—Cousin Stickles had remembered at the last +moment that they must have beans. Beans were cheap and filling. + +“What two ages are apt to prove illusory?†asked Uncle Benjamin; and, +not waiting for Valancy to “give it up,†he added, “Mir-age and +marriage.†+ +“M-i-r-a-g-e is pronounced _mirazh_,†said Valancy shortly, picking up +her tea and her beans. For the moment she did not care whether Uncle +Benjamin cut her out of his will or not. She walked out of the store +while Uncle Benjamin stared after her with his mouth open. Then he +shook his head. + +“Poor Doss is taking it hard,†he said. + +Valancy was sorry by the time she reached the next crossing. Why had +she lost her patience like that? Uncle Benjamin would be annoyed and +would likely tell her mother that Doss had been impertinent—“to +_me_!â€â€”and her mother would lecture her for a week. + +“I’ve held my tongue for twenty years,†thought Valancy. “Why couldn’t +I have held it once more?†+ +Yes, it was just twenty, Valancy reflected, since she had first been +twitted with her loverless condition. She remembered the bitter moment +perfectly. She was just nine years old and she was standing alone on +the school playground while the other little girls of her class were +playing a game in which you must be chosen by a boy as his partner +before you could play. Nobody had chosen Valancy—little, pale, +black-haired Valancy, with her prim, long-sleeved apron and odd, +slanted eyes. + +“Oh,†said a pretty little girl to her, “I’m so sorry for you. You +haven’t got a beau.†+ +Valancy had said defiantly, as she continued to say for twenty years, +“I don’t _want_ a beau.†But this afternoon Valancy once and for all +stopped saying that. + +“I’m going to be honest with myself anyhow,†she thought savagely. +“Uncle Benjamin’s riddles hurt me because they are true. I _do_ want to +be married. I want a house of my own—I want a husband of my own—I want +sweet, little fat _babies_ of my own—†Valancy stopped suddenly aghast +at her own recklessness. She felt sure that Rev. Dr. Stalling, who +passed her at this moment, read her thoughts and disapproved of them +thoroughly. Valancy was afraid of Dr. Stalling—had been afraid of him +ever since the Sunday, twenty-three years before, when he had first +come to St. Albans’. Valancy had been too late for Sunday School that +day and she had gone into the church timidly and sat in their pew. No +one else was in the church—nobody except the new rector, Dr. Stalling. +Dr. Stalling stood up in front of the choir door, beckoned to her, and +said sternly, “Little boy, come up here.†+ +Valancy had stared around her. There was no little boy—there was no one +in all the huge church but herself. This strange man with the blue +glasses couldn’t mean her. She was not a boy. + +“Little boy,†repeated Dr. Stalling, more sternly still, shaking his +forefinger fiercely at her, “come up here at once!†+ +Valancy arose as if hypnotised and walked up the aisle. She was too +terrified to do anything else. What dreadful thing was going to happen +to her? What _had_ happened to her? Had she actually turned into a boy? +She came to a stop in front of Dr. Stalling. Dr. Stalling shook his +forefinger—such a long, knuckly forefinger—at her and said: + +“Little boy, take off your hat.†+ +Valancy took off her hat. She had a scrawny little pigtail hanging down +her back, but Dr. Stalling was short-sighted and did not perceive it. + +“Little boy, go back to your seat and _always_ take off your hat in +church. _Remember_!†+ +Valancy went back to her seat carrying her hat like an automaton. +Presently her mother came in. + +“Doss,†said Mrs. Stirling, “what do you mean by taking off your hat? +Put it on instantly!†+ +Valancy put it on instantly. She was cold with fear lest Dr. Stalling +should immediately summon her up front again. She would have to go, of +course—it never occurred to her that one could disobey the rector—and +the church was full of people now. Oh, what would she do if that +horrible, stabbing forefinger were shaken at her again before all those +people? Valancy sat through the whole service in an agony of dread and +was sick for a week afterwards. Nobody knew why—Mrs. Frederick again +bemoaned herself of her delicate child. + +Dr. Stalling found out his mistake and laughed over it to Valancy—who +did not laugh. She never got over her dread of Dr. Stalling. And now to +be caught by him on the street corner, thinking such things! + +Valancy got her John Foster book—_Magic of Wings_. “His latest—all +about birds,†said Miss Clarkson. She had almost decided that she would +go home, instead of going to see Dr. Trent. Her courage had failed her. +She was afraid of offending Uncle James—afraid of angering her +mother—afraid of facing gruff, shaggy-browed old Dr. Trent, who would +probably tell her, as he had told Cousin Gladys, that her trouble was +entirely imaginary and that she only had it because she liked to have +it. No, she would not go; she would get a bottle of Redfern’s Purple +Pills instead. Redfern’s Purple Pills were the standard medicine of the +Stirling clan. Had they not cured Second Cousin Geraldine when five +doctors had given her up? Valancy always felt very sceptical concerning +the virtues of the Purple Pills; but there _might_ be something in +them; and it was easier to take them than to face Dr. Trent alone. She +would glance over the magazines in the reading-room a few minutes and +then go home. + +Valancy tried to read a story, but it made her furious. On every page +was a picture of the heroine surrounded by adoring men. And here was +she, Valancy Stirling, who could not get a solitary beau! Valancy +slammed the magazine shut; she opened _Magic of Wings_. Her eyes fell +on the paragraph that changed her life. + +“_Fear is the original sin_,†wrote John Foster. “_Almost all the evil +in the world has its origin in the fact that some one is afraid of +something_. It is a cold, slimy serpent coiling about you. It is +horrible to live with fear; and it is of all things degrading.†+ +Valancy shut _Magic of Wings_ and stood up. She would go and see Dr. +Trent. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +The ordeal was not so dreadful, after all. Dr. Trent was as gruff and +abrupt as usual, but he did not tell her ailment was imaginary. After +he had listened to her symptoms and asked a few questions and made a +quick examination, he sat for a moment looking at her quite intently. +Valancy thought he looked as if he were sorry for her. She caught her +breath for a moment. Was the trouble serious? Oh, it couldn’t be, +surely—it really hadn’t bothered her _much_—only lately it had got a +little worse. + +Dr. Trent opened his mouth—but before he could speak the telephone at +his elbow rang sharply. He picked up the receiver. Valancy, watching +him, saw his face change suddenly as he listened, +“‘Lo—yes—yes—_what_?—yes—yesâ€â€”a brief interval—“My God!†+ +Dr. Trent dropped the receiver, dashed out of the room and upstairs +without even a glance at Valancy. She heard him rushing madly about +overhead, barking out a few remarks to somebody—presumably his +housekeeper. Then he came tearing downstairs with a club bag in his +hand, snatched his hat and coat from the rack, jerked open the street +door and rushed down the street in the direction of the station. + +Valancy sat alone in the little office, feeling more absolutely foolish +than she had ever felt before in her life. Foolish—and humiliated. So +this was all that had come of her heroic determination to live up to +John Foster and cast fear aside. Not only was she a failure as a +relative and non-existent as a sweetheart or friend, but she was not +even of any importance as a patient. Dr. Trent had forgotten her very +presence in his excitement over whatever message had come by the +telephone. She had gained nothing by ignoring Uncle James and flying in +the face of family tradition. + +For a moment she was afraid she was going to cry. It _was_ all +so—ridiculous. Then she heard Dr. Trent’s housekeeper coming down the +stairs. Valancy rose and went to the office door. + +“The doctor forgot all about me,†she said with a twisted smile. + +“Well, that’s too bad,†said Mrs. Patterson sympathetically. “But it +wasn’t much wonder, poor man. That was a telegram they ’phoned over +from the Port. His son has been terribly injured in an auto accident in +Montreal. The doctor had just ten minutes to catch the train. I don’t +know what he’ll do if anything happens to Ned—he’s just bound up in the +boy. You’ll have to come again, Miss Stirling. I hope it’s nothing +serious.†+ +“Oh, no, nothing serious,†agreed Valancy. She felt a little less +humiliated. It was no wonder poor Dr. Trent had forgotten her at such a +moment. Nevertheless, she felt very flat and discouraged as she went +down the street. + +Valancy went home by the short-cut of Lover’s Lane. She did not often +go through Lover’s Lane—but it was getting near supper-time and it +would never do to be late. Lover’s Lane wound back of the village, +under great elms and maples, and deserved its name. It was hard to go +there at any time and not find some canoodling couple—or young girls in +pairs, arms intertwined, earnestly talking over their little secrets. +Valancy didn’t know which made her feel more self-conscious and +uncomfortable. + +This evening she encountered both. She met Connie Hale and Kate Bayley, +in new pink organdy dresses with flowers stuck coquettishly in their +glossy, bare hair. Valancy had never had a pink dress or worn flowers +in her hair. Then she passed a young couple she didn’t know, dandering +along, oblivious to everything but themselves. The young man’s arm was +around the girl’s waist quite shamelessly. Valancy had never walked +with a man’s arm about her. She felt that she ought to be shocked—they +might leave that sort of thing for the screening twilight, at least—but +she wasn’t shocked. In another flash of desperate, stark honesty she +owned to herself that she was merely envious. When she passed them she +felt quite sure they were laughing at her—pitying her—“there’s that +queer little old maid, Valancy Stirling. They say she never had a beau +in her whole lifeâ€â€”Valancy fairly ran to get out of Lover’s Lane. Never +had she felt so utterly colourless and skinny and insignificant. + +Just where Lover’s Lane debouched on the street, an old car was parked. +Valancy knew that car well—by sound, at least—and everybody in Deerwood +knew it. This was before the phrase “tin Lizzie†had come into +circulation—in Deerwood, at least; but if it had been known, this car +was the tinniest of Lizzies—though it was not a Ford but an old Grey +Slosson. Nothing more battered and disreputable could be imagined. + +It was Barney Snaith’s car and Barney himself was just scrambling up +from under it, in overalls plastered with mud. Valancy gave him a +swift, furtive look as she hurried by. This was only the second time +she had ever seen the notorious Barney Snaith, though she had heard +enough about him in the five years that he had been living “up back†in +Muskoka. The first time had been nearly a year ago, on the Muskoka +road. He had been crawling out from under his car then, too, and he had +given her a cheerful grin as she went by—a little, whimsical grin that +gave him the look of an amused gnome. He didn’t look bad—she didn’t +believe he was bad, in spite of the wild yarns that were always being +told of him. Of course he went tearing in that terrible old Grey +Slosson through Deerwood at hours when all decent people were in +bed—often with old “Roaring Abel,†who made the night hideous with his +howls—“both of them dead drunk, my dear.†And every one knew that he +was an escaped convict and a defaulting bank clerk and a murderer in +hiding and an infidel and an illegitimate son of old Roaring Abel Gay +and the father of Roaring Abel’s illegitimate grandchild and a +counterfeiter and a forger and a few other awful things. But still +Valancy didn’t believe he was bad. Nobody with a smile like that could +be bad, no matter what he had done. + +It was that night the Prince of the Blue Castle changed from a being of +grim jaw and hair with a dash of premature grey to a rakish individual +with overlong, tawny hair, dashed with red, dark-brown eyes, and ears +that stuck out just enough to give him an alert look but not enough to +be called flying jibs. But he still retained something a little grim +about the jaw. + +Barney Snaith looked even more disreputable than usual just now. It was +very evident that he hadn’t shaved for days, and his hands and arms, +bare to the shoulders, were black with grease. But he was whistling +gleefully to himself and he seemed so happy that Valancy envied him. +She envied him his light-heartedness and his irresponsibility and his +mysterious little cabin up on an island in Lake Mistawis—even his +rackety old Grey Slosson. Neither he nor his car had to be respectable +and live up to traditions. When he rattled past her a few minutes +later, bareheaded, leaning back in his Lizzie at a raffish angle, his +longish hair blowing in the wind, a villainous-looking old black pipe +in his mouth, she envied him again. Men had the best of it, no doubt +about that. This outlaw was happy, whatever he was or wasn’t. She, +Valancy Stirling, respectable, well-behaved to the last degree, was +unhappy and had always been unhappy. So there you were. + +Valancy was just in time for supper. The sun had clouded over, and a +dismal, drizzling rain was falling again. Cousin Stickles had the +neuralgia. Valancy had to do the family darning and there was no time +for _Magic of Wings_. + +“Can’t the darning wait till tomorrow?†she pleaded. + +“Tomorrow will bring its own duties,†said Mrs. Frederick inexorably. + +Valancy darned all the evening and listened to Mrs. Frederick and +Cousin Stickles talking the eternal, niggling gossip of the clan, as +they knitted drearily at interminable black stockings. They discussed +Second Cousin Lilian’s approaching wedding in all its bearings. On the +whole, they approved. Second Cousin Lilian was doing well for herself. + +“Though she hasn’t hurried,†said Cousin Stickles. “She must be +twenty-five.†+ +“There have not—fortunately—been many old maids in our connection,†+said Mrs. Frederick bitterly. + +Valancy flinched. She had run the darning needle into her finger. + +Third Cousin Aaron Gray had been scratched by a cat and had +blood-poisoning in his finger. “Cats are most dangerous animals,†said +Mrs. Frederick. “I would never have a cat about the house.†+ +She glared significantly at Valancy through her terrible glasses. Once, +five years ago, Valancy had asked if she might have a cat. She had +never referred to it since, but Mrs. Frederick still suspected her of +harbouring the unlawful desire in her heart of hearts. + +Once Valancy sneezed. Now, in the Stirling code, it was very bad form +to sneeze in public. + +“You can always repress a sneeze by pressing your finger on your upper +lip,†said Mrs. Frederick rebukingly. + +Half-past nine o’clock and so, as Mr. Pepys would say, to bed. But +First Cousin Stickles’ neuralgic back must be rubbed with Redfern’s +Liniment. Valancy did that. Valancy always had to do it. She hated the +smell of Redfern’s Liniment—she hated the smug, beaming, portly, +be-whiskered, be-spectacled picture of Dr. Redfern on the bottle. Her +fingers smelled of the horrible stuff after she got into bed, in spite +of all the scrubbing she gave them. + +Valancy’s day of destiny had come and gone. She ended it as she had +begun it, in tears. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +There was a rosebush on the little Stirling lawn, growing beside the +gate. It was called “Doss’s rosebush.†Cousin Georgiana had given it to +Valancy five years ago and Valancy had planted it joyfully. She loved +roses. But—of course—the rosebush never bloomed. That was her luck. +Valancy did everything she could think of and took the advice of +everybody in the clan, but still the rosebush would not bloom. It +throve and grew luxuriantly, with great leafy branches untouched of +rust or spider; but not even a bud had ever appeared on it. Valancy, +looking at it two days after her birthday, was filled with a sudden, +overwhelming hatred for it. The thing wouldn’t bloom: very well, then, +she would cut it down. She marched to the tool-room in the barn for her +garden knife and she went at the rosebush viciously. A few minutes +later horrified Mrs. Frederick came out to the verandah and beheld her +daughter slashing insanely among the rosebush boughs. Half of them were +already strewn on the walk. The bush looked sadly dismantled. + +“Doss, what on earth are you doing? Have you gone crazy?†+ +“No,†said Valancy. She meant to say it defiantly, but habit was too +strong for her. She said it deprecatingly. “I—I just made up my mind to +cut this bush down. It is no good. It never blooms—never will bloom.†+ +“That is no reason for destroying it,†said Mrs. Frederick sternly. “It +was a beautiful bush and quite ornamental. You have made a +sorry-looking thing of it.†+ +“Rose trees should _bloom_,†said Valancy a little obstinately. + +“Don’t argue with _me_, Doss. Clear up that mess and leave the bush +alone. I don’t know what Georgiana will say when she sees how you have +hacked it to pieces. Really, I’m surprised at you. And to do it without +consulting _me_!†+ +“The bush is mine,†muttered Valancy. + +“What’s that? What did you say, Doss?†+ +“I only said the bush was mine,†repeated Valancy humbly. + +Mrs. Frederick turned without a word and marched back into the house. +The mischief was done now. Valancy knew she had offended her mother +deeply and would not be spoken to or noticed in any way for two or +three days. Cousin Stickles would see to Valancy’s bringing-up but Mrs. +Frederick would preserve the stony silence of outraged majesty. + +Valancy sighed and put away her garden knife, hanging it precisely on +its precise nail in the tool-shop. She cleared away the severed +branches and swept up the leaves. Her lips twitched as she looked at +the straggling bush. It had an odd resemblance to its shaken, scrawny +donor, little Cousin Georgiana herself. + +“I certainly have made an awful-looking thing of it,†thought Valancy. + +But she did not feel repentant—only sorry she had offended her mother. +Things would be so uncomfortable until she was forgiven. Mrs. Frederick +was one of those women who can make their anger felt all over a house. +Walls and doors are no protection from it. + +“You’d better go uptown and git the mail,†said Cousin Stickles, when +Valancy went in. “_I_ can’t go—I feel all sorter peaky and piny this +spring. I want you to stop at the drugstore and git me a bottle of +Redfern’s Blood Bitters. There’s nothing like Redfern’s Bitters for +building a body up. Cousin James says the Purple Pills are the best, +but I know better. My poor dear husband took Redfern’s Bitters right up +to the day he died. Don’t let them charge you more’n ninety cents. I +kin git it for that at the Port. And what _have_ you been saying to +your poor mother? Do you ever stop to think, Doss, that you kin only +have one mother?†+ +“One is enough for me,†thought Valancy undutifully, as she went +uptown. + +She got Cousin Stickles’ bottle of bitters and then she went to the +post-office and asked for her mail at the General Delivery. Her mother +did not have a box. They got too little mail to bother with it. Valancy +did not expect any mail, except the _Christian Times_, which was the +only paper they took. They hardly ever got any letters. But Valancy +rather liked to stand in the office and watch Mr. Carewe, the +grey-bearded, Santa-Clausy old clerk, handing out letters to the lucky +people who did get them. He did it with such a detached, impersonal, +Jove-like air, as if it did not matter in the least to him what +supernal joys or shattering horrors might be in those letters for the +people to whom they were addressed. Letters had a fascination for +Valancy, perhaps because she so seldom got any. In her Blue Castle +exciting epistles, bound with silk and sealed with crimson, were always +being brought to her by pages in livery of gold and blue, but in real +life her only letters were occasional perfunctory notes from relatives +or an advertising circular. + +Consequently she was immensely surprised when Mr. Carewe, looking even +more Jovian than usual, poked a letter out to her. Yes, it was +addressed to her plainly, in a fierce, black hand: “Miss Valancy +Stirling, Elm Street, Deerwoodâ€â€”and the postmark was Montreal. Valancy +picked it up with a little quickening of her breath. Montreal! It must +be from Doctor Trent. He had remembered her, after all. + +Valancy met Uncle Benjamin coming in as she was going out and was glad +the letter was safely in her bag. + +“What,†said Uncle Benjamin, “is the difference between a donkey and a +postage-stamp?†+ +“I don’t know. What?†answered Valancy dutifully. + +“One you lick with a stick and the other you stick with a lick. Ha, +ha!†+ +Uncle Benjamin passed in, tremendously pleased with himself. + +Cousin Stickles pounced on the _Times_ when Valancy got home, but it +did not occur to her to ask if there were any letters. Mrs. Frederick +would have asked it, but Mrs. Frederick’s lips at present were sealed. +Valancy was glad of this. If her mother had asked if there were any +letters Valancy would have had to admit there was. Then she would have +had to let her mother and Cousin Stickles read the letter and all would +be discovered. + +Her heart acted strangely on the way upstairs, and she sat down by her +window for a few minutes before opening her letter. She felt very +guilty and deceitful. She had never before kept a letter secret from +her mother. Every letter she had ever written or received had been read +by Mrs. Frederick. That had never mattered. Valancy had never had +anything to hide. But this _did_ matter. She could not have any one see +this letter. But her fingers trembled with a consciousness of +wickedness and unfilial conduct as she opened it—trembled a little, +too, perhaps, with apprehension. She felt quite sure there was nothing +seriously wrong with her heart but—one never knew. + +Dr. Trent’s letter was like himself—blunt, abrupt, concise, wasting no +words. Dr. Trent never beat about the bush. “Dear Miss Sterlingâ€â€”and +then a page of black, positive writing. Valancy seemed to read it at a +glance; she dropped it on her lap, her face ghost-white. + +Dr. Trent told her that she had a very dangerous and fatal form of +heart disease—angina pectoris—evidently complicated with an +aneurism—whatever that was—and in the last stages. He said, without +mincing matters, that nothing could be done for her. If she took great +care of herself she might live a year—but she might also die at any +moment—Dr. Trent never troubled himself about euphemisms. She must be +careful to avoid all excitement and all severe muscular efforts. She +must eat and drink moderately, she must never run, she must go upstairs +and uphill with great care. Any sudden jolt or shock might be fatal. +She was to get the prescription he enclosed filled and carry it with +her always, taking a dose whenever her attacks came on. And he was hers +truly, H. B. Trent. + +Valancy sat for a long while by her window. Outside was a world drowned +in the light of a spring afternoon—skies entrancingly blue, winds +perfumed and free, lovely, soft, blue hazes at the end of every street. +Over at the railway station a group of young girls was waiting for a +train; she heard their gay laughter as they chattered and joked. The +train roared in and roared out again. But none of these things had any +reality. Nothing had any reality except the fact that she had only +another year to live. + +When she was tired of sitting at the window she went over and lay down +on her bed, staring at the cracked, discoloured ceiling. The curious +numbness that follows on a staggering blow possessed her. She did not +feel anything except a boundless surprise and incredulity—behind which +was the conviction that Dr. Trent knew his business and that she, +Valancy Stirling, who had never lived, was about to die. + +When the gong rang for supper Valancy got up and went downstairs +mechanically, from force of habit. She wondered that she had been let +alone so long. But of course her mother would not pay any attention to +her just now. Valancy was thankful for this. She thought the quarrel +over the rosebush had been really, as Mrs. Frederick herself might have +said, Providential. She could not eat anything, but both Mrs. Frederick +and Cousin Stickles thought this was because she was deservedly unhappy +over her mother’s attitude, and her lack of appetite was not commented +on. Valancy forced herself to swallow a cup of tea and then sat and +watched the others eat, with an odd feeling that years had passed since +she had sat with them at the dinner-table. She found herself smiling +inwardly to think what a commotion she could make if she chose. Let her +merely tell them what was in Dr. Trent’s letter and there would be as +much fuss made as if—Valancy thought bitterly—they really cared two +straws about her. + +“Dr. Trent’s housekeeper got word from him today,†said Cousin +Stickles, so suddenly that Valancy jumped guiltily. Was there anything +in thought waves? “Mrs. Judd was talking to her uptown. They think his +son will recover, but Dr. Trent wrote that if he did he was going to +take him abroad as soon as he was able to travel and wouldn’t be back +here for a year at least.†+ +“That will not matter much to _us_,†said Mrs. Frederick majestically. +“He is not _our_ doctor. I would notâ€â€”here she looked or seemed to look +accusingly right through Valancy—“have _him_ to doctor a sick cat.†+ +“May I go upstairs and lie down?†said Valancy faintly. “I—I have a +headache.†+ +“What has given you a headache?†asked Cousin Stickles, since Mrs. +Frederick would not. The question had to be asked. Valancy could not be +allowed to have headaches without interference. + +“You ain’t in the habit of having headaches. I hope you’re not taking +the mumps. Here, try a spoonful of vinegar.†+ +“Piffle!†said Valancy rudely, getting up from the table. She did not +care just then if she were rude. She had had to be so polite all her +life. + +If it had been possible for Cousin Stickles to turn pale she would +have. As it was not, she turned yellower. + +“Are you sure you ain’t feverish, Doss? You sound like it. You go and +get right into bed,†said Cousin Stickles, thoroughly alarmed, “and +I’ll come up and rub your forehead and the back of your neck with +Redfern’s Liniment.†+ +Valancy had reached the door, but she turned. “I won’t be rubbed with +Redfern’s Liniment!†she said. + +Cousin Stickles stared and gasped. “What—what do you mean?†+ +“I said I wouldn’t be rubbed with Redfern’s Liniment,†repeated +Valancy. “Horrid, sticky stuff! And it has the vilest smell of any +liniment I ever saw. It’s no good. I want to be left alone, that’s +all.†+ +Valancy went out, leaving Cousin Stickles aghast. + +“She’s feverish—she _must_ be feverish,†ejaculated Cousin Stickles. + +Mrs. Frederick went on eating her supper. It did not matter whether +Valancy was or was not feverish. Valancy had been guilty of +impertinence to _her_. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +Valancy did not sleep that night. She lay awake all through the long +dark hours—thinking—thinking. She made a discovery that surprised her: +she, who had been afraid of almost everything in life, was not afraid +of death. It did not seem in the least terrible to her. And she need +not now be afraid of anything else. Why had she been afraid of things? +Because of life. Afraid of Uncle Benjamin because of the menace of +poverty in old age. But now she would never be old—neglected—tolerated. +Afraid of being an old maid all her life. But now she would not be an +old maid very long. Afraid of offending her mother and her clan because +she had to live with and among them and couldn’t live peaceably if she +didn’t give in to them. But now she hadn’t. Valancy felt a curious +freedom. + +But she was still horribly afraid of one thing—the fuss the whole +jamfry of them would make when she told them. Valancy shuddered at the +thought of it. She couldn’t endure it. Oh, she knew so well how it +would be. First there would be indignation—yes, indignation on the part +of Uncle James because she had gone to a doctor—any doctor—without +consulting HIM. Indignation on the part of her mother for being so sly +and deceitful—“to your own mother, Doss.†Indignation on the part of +the whole clan because she had not gone to Dr. Marsh. + +Then would come the solicitude. She would be taken to Dr. Marsh, and +when Dr. Marsh confirmed Dr. Trent’s diagnosis she would be taken to +specialists in Toronto and Montreal. Uncle Benjamin would foot the bill +with a splendid gesture of munificence in thus assisting the widow and +orphan, and talk forever after of the shocking fees specialists charged +for looking wise and saying they couldn’t do anything. And when the +specialists could do nothing for her Uncle James would insist on her +taking Purple Pills—“I’ve known them to effect a cure when _all_ the +doctors had given upâ€â€”and her mother would insist on Redfern’s Blood +Bitters, and Cousin Stickles would insist on rubbing her over the heart +every night with Redfern’s Liniment on the grounds that it _might_ do +good and _couldn’t_ do harm; and everybody else would have some pet +dope for her to take. Dr. Stalling would come to her and say solemnly, +“You are very ill. Are you prepared for what may be before you?â€â€”almost +as if he were going to shake his forefinger at her, the forefinger that +had not grown any shorter or less knobbly with age. And she would be +watched and checked like a baby and never let do anything or go +anywhere alone. Perhaps she would not even be allowed to sleep alone +lest she die in her sleep. Cousin Stickles or her mother would insist +on sharing her room and bed. Yes, undoubtedly they would. + +It was this last thought that really decided Valancy. She could not put +up with it and she wouldn’t. As the clock in the hall below struck +twelve Valancy suddenly and definitely made up her mind that she would +not tell anybody. She had always been told, ever since she could +remember, that she must hide her feelings. “It is not ladylike to have +feelings,†Cousin Stickles had once told her disapprovingly. Well, she +would hide them with a vengeance. + +But though she was not afraid of death she was not indifferent to it. +She found that she _resented_ it; it was not fair that she should have +to die when she had never lived. Rebellion flamed up in her soul as the +dark hours passed by—not because she had no future but because she had +no past. + +“I’m poor—I’m ugly—I’m a failure—and I’m near death,†she thought. She +could see her own obituary notice in the Deerwood _Weekly Times_, +copied into the Port Lawrence _Journal_. “A deep gloom was cast over +Deerwood, etc., etc.â€â€”“leaves a large circle of friends to mourn, etc., +etc., etc.â€â€”lies, all lies. Gloom, forsooth! Nobody would miss her. Her +death would not matter a straw to anybody. Not even her mother loved +her—her mother who had been so disappointed that she was not a boy—or +at least, a pretty girl. + +Valancy reviewed her whole life between midnight and the early spring +dawn. It was a very drab existence, but here and there an incident +loomed out with a significance out of all proportion to its real +importance. These incidents were all unpleasant in one way or another. +Nothing really pleasant had ever happened to Valancy. + +“I’ve never had one wholly happy hour in my life—not one,†she thought. +“I’ve just been a colourless nonentity. I remember reading somewhere +once that there is an hour in which a woman might be happy all her life +if she could but find it. I’ve never found my hour—never, never. And I +never will now. If I could only have had that hour I’d be willing to +die.†+ +Those significant incidents kept bobbing up in her mind like unbidden +ghosts, without any sequence of time or place. For instance, that time +when, at sixteen, she had blued a tubful of clothes too deeply. And the +time when, at eight, she had “stolen†some raspberry jam from Aunt +Wellington’s pantry. Valancy never heard the last of those two +misdemeanours. At almost every clan gathering they were raked up +against her as jokes. Uncle Benjamin hardly ever missed re-telling the +raspberry jam incident—he had been the one to catch her, her face all +stained and streaked. + +“I have really done so few bad things that they have to keep harping on +the old ones,†thought Valancy. “Why, I’ve never even had a quarrel +with any one. I haven’t an enemy. What a spineless thing I must be not +to have even one enemy!†+ +There was that incident of the dust-pile at school when she was seven. +Valancy always recalled it when Dr. Stalling referred to the text, “To +him that hath shall be given and from him that hath not shall be taken +even that which he hath.†Other people might puzzle over that text but +it never puzzled Valancy. The whole relationship between herself and +Olive, dating from the day of the dust-pile, was a commentary on it. + +She had been going to school a year, but Olive, who was a year younger, +had just begun and had about her all the glamour of “a new girl†and an +exceedingly pretty girl at that. It was at recess and all the girls, +big and little, were out on the road in front of the school making +dust-piles. The aim of each girl was to have the biggest pile. Valancy +was good at making dust-piles—there was an art in it—and she had secret +hopes of leading. But Olive, working off by herself, was suddenly +discovered to have a larger dust-pile than anybody. Valancy felt no +jealousy. Her dust-pile was quite big enough to please her. Then one of +the older girls had an inspiration. + +“Let’s put all our dust on Olive’s pile and make a tremendous one,†she +exclaimed. + +A frenzy seemed to seize the girls. They swooped down on the dust-piles +with pails and shovels and in a few seconds Olive’s pile was a +veritable pyramid. In vain Valancy, with scrawny, outstretched little +arms, tried to protect hers. She was ruthlessly swept aside, her +dust-pile scooped up and poured on Olive’s. Valancy turned away +resolutely and began building another dust-pile. Again a bigger girl +pounced on it. Valancy stood before it, flushed, indignant, arms +outspread. + +“Don’t take it,†she pleaded. “Please don’t take it.†+ +“But _why_?†demanded the older girl. “Why won’t you help to build +Olive’s bigger?†+ +“I want my own little dust-pile,†said Valancy piteously. + +Her plea went unheeded. While she argued with one girl another scraped +up her dust-pile. Valancy turned away, her heart swelling, her eyes +full of tears. + +“Jealous—you’re jealous!†said the girls mockingly. + +“You were very selfish,†said her mother coldly, when Valancy told her +about it at night. That was the first and last time Valancy had ever +taken any of her troubles to her mother. + +Valancy was neither jealous nor selfish. It was only that she wanted a +dust-pile of her own—small or big mattered not. A team of horses came +down the street—Olive’s dust pile was scattered over the roadway—the +bell rang—the girls trooped into school and had forgotten the whole +affair before they reached their seats. Valancy never forgot it. To +this day she resented it in her secret soul. But was it not symbolical +of her life? + +“I’ve never been able to have my own dust-pile,†thought Valancy. + +The enormous red moon she had seen rising right at the end of the +street one autumn evening of her sixth year. She had been sick and cold +with the awful, uncanny horror of it. So near to her. So big. She had +run in trembling to her mother and her mother had laughed at her. She +had gone to bed and hidden her face under the clothes in terror lest +she might look at the window and see that horrible moon glaring in at +her through it. + +The boy who had tried to kiss her at a party when she was fifteen. She +had not let him—she had evaded him and run. He was the only boy who had +ever tried to kiss her. Now, fourteen years later, Valancy found +herself wishing that she had let him. + +The time she had been made to apologise to Olive for something she +hadn’t done. Olive had said that Valancy had pushed her into the mud +and spoiled her new shoes _on purpose_. Valancy knew she hadn’t. It had +been an accident—and even that wasn’t her fault—but nobody would +believe her. She had to apologise—and kiss Olive to “make up.†The +injustice of it burned in her soul tonight. + +That summer when Olive had the most beautiful hat, trimmed with creamy +yellow net, with a wreath of red roses and little ribbon bows under the +chin. Valancy had wanted a hat like that more than she had ever wanted +anything. She pleaded for one and had been laughed at—all summer she +had to wear a horrid little brown sailor with elastic that cut behind +her ears. None of the girls would go around with her because she was so +shabby—nobody but Olive. People had thought Olive so sweet and +unselfish. + +“I was an excellent foil for her,†thought Valancy. “Even then she knew +that.†+ +Valancy had tried to win a prize for attendance in Sunday School once. +But Olive won it. There were so many Sundays Valancy had to stay home +because she had colds. She had once tried to “say a piece†in school +one Friday afternoon and had broken down in it. Olive was a good +reciter and never got stuck. + +The night she had spent in Port Lawrence with Aunt Isabel when she was +ten. Byron Stirling was there; from Montreal, twelve years old, +conceited, clever. At family prayers in the morning Byron had reached +across and given Valancy’s thin arm such a savage pinch that she +screamed out with pain. After prayers were over she was summoned to +Aunt Isabel’s bar of judgment. But when she said Byron had pinched her +Byron denied it. He said she cried out because the kitten scratched +her. He said she had put the kitten up on her chair and was playing +with it when she should have been listening to Uncle David’s prayer. He +was _believed_. In the Stirling clan the boys were always believed +before the girls. Valancy was sent home in disgrace because of her +exceedingly bad behavior during family prayers and she was not asked to +Aunt Isabel’s again for many moons. + +The time Cousin Betty Stirling was married. Somehow Valancy got wind of +the fact that Betty was going to ask her to be one of her bridesmaids. +Valancy was secretly uplifted. It would be a delightful thing to be a +bridesmaid. And of course she would have to have a new dress for it—a +pretty new dress—a pink dress. Betty wanted her bridesmaids to dress in +pink. + +But Betty had never asked her, after all. Valancy couldn’t guess why, +but long after her secret tears of disappointment had been dried Olive +told her. Betty, after much consultation and reflection, had decided +that Valancy was too insignificant—she would “spoil the effect.†That +was nine years ago. But tonight Valancy caught her breath with the old +pain and sting of it. + +That day in her eleventh year when her mother had badgered her into +confessing something she had never done. Valancy had denied it for a +long time but eventually for peace’ sake she had given in and pleaded +guilty. Mrs. Frederick was always making people lie by pushing them +into situations where they _had_ to lie. Then her mother had made her +kneel down on the parlour floor, between herself and Cousin Stickles, +and say, “O God, please forgive me for not speaking the truth.†Valancy +had said it, but as she rose from her knees she muttered. “But, O God, +_you_ know I did speak the truth.†Valancy had not then heard of +Galileo but her fate was similar to his. She was punished just as +severely as if she hadn’t confessed and prayed. + +The winter she went to dancing-school. Uncle James had decreed she +should go and had paid for her lessons. How she had looked forward to +it! And how she had hated it! She had never had a voluntary partner. +The teacher always had to tell some boy to dance with her, and +generally he had been sulky about it. Yet Valancy was a good dancer, as +light on her feet as thistledown. Olive, who never lacked eager +partners, was heavy. + +The affair of the button-string, when she was ten. All the girls in +school had button-strings. Olive had a very long one with a great many +beautiful buttons. Valancy had one. Most of the buttons on it were very +commonplace, but she had six beauties that had come off Grandmother +Stirling’s wedding-gown—sparkling buttons of gold and glass, much more +beautiful than any Olive had. Their possession conferred a certain +distinction on Valancy. She knew every little girl in school envied her +the exclusive possession of those beautiful buttons. When Olive saw +them on the button-string she had looked at them narrowly but said +nothing—then. The next day Aunt Wellington had come to Elm Street and +told Mrs. Frederick that she thought Olive should have some of those +buttons—Grandmother Stirling was just as much Wellington’s mother as +Frederick’s. Mrs. Frederick had agreed amiably. She could not afford to +fall out with Aunt Wellington. Moreover, the matter was of no +importance whatever. Aunt Wellington carried off four of the buttons, +generously leaving two for Valancy. Valancy had torn these from her +string and flung them on the floor—she had not yet learned that it was +unladylike to have feelings—and had been sent supperless to bed for the +exhibition. + +The night of Margaret Blunt’s party. She had made such pathetic efforts +to be pretty that night. Rob Walker was to be there; and two nights +before, on the moonlit verandah of Uncle Herbert’s cottage at Mistawis, +Rob had really seemed attracted to her. At Margaret’s party Rob never +even asked her to dance—did not notice her at all. She was a +wallflower, as usual. That, of course, was years ago. People in +Deerwood had long since given up inviting Valancy to dances. But to +Valancy its humiliation and disappointment were of the other day. Her +face burned in the darkness as she recalled herself, sitting there with +her pitifully crimped, thin hair and the cheeks she had pinched for an +hour before coming, in an effort to make them red. All that came of it +was a wild story that Valancy Stirling was rouged at Margaret Blunt’s +party. In those days in Deerwood that was enough to wreck your +character forever. It did not wreck Valancy’s, or even damage it. +People knew _she_ couldn’t be fast if she tried. They only laughed at +her. + +“I’ve had nothing but a second-hand existence,†decided Valancy. “All +the great emotions of life have passed me by. I’ve never even had a +grief. And have I ever really loved anybody? Do I really love Mother? +No, I don’t. That’s the truth, whether it is disgraceful or not. I +don’t love her—I’ve never loved her. What’s worse, I don’t even like +her. So I don’t know anything about any kind of love. My life has been +empty—empty. Nothing is worse than emptiness. Nothing!†Valancy +ejaculated the last “nothing†aloud passionately. Then she moaned and +stopped thinking about anything for a while. One of her attacks of pain +had come on. + +When it was over something had happened to Valancy—perhaps the +culmination of the process that had been going on in her mind ever +since she had read Dr. Trent’s letter. It was three o’clock in the +morning—the wisest and most accursed hour of the clock. But sometimes +it sets us free. + +“I’ve been trying to please other people all my life and failed,†she +said. “After this I shall please myself. I shall never pretend anything +again. I’ve breathed an atmosphere of fibs and pretences and evasions +all my life. What a luxury it will be to tell the truth! I may not be +able to do much that I want to do but I won’t do another thing that I +don’t want to do. Mother can pout for weeks—I shan’t worry over it. +‘Despair is a free man—hope is a slave.’†+ +Valancy got up and dressed, with a deepening of that curious sense of +freedom. When she had finished with her hair she opened the window and +hurled the jar of potpourri over into the next lot. It smashed +gloriously against the schoolgirl complexion on the old carriage-shop. + +“I’m sick of the fragrance of dead things,†said Valancy. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +Uncle Herbert and Aunt Alberta’s silver wedding was delicately referred +to among the Stirlings during the following weeks as “the time we first +noticed poor Valancy was—a little—you understand?†+ +Not for worlds would any of the Stirlings have said out and out at +first that Valancy had gone mildly insane or even that her mind was +slightly deranged. Uncle Benjamin was considered to have gone entirely +too far when he had ejaculated, “She’s dippy—I tell you, she’s dippy,†+and was only excused because of the outrageousness of Valancy’s conduct +at the aforesaid wedding dinner. + +But Mrs. Frederick and Cousin Stickles had noticed a few things that +made them uneasy _before_ the dinner. It had begun with the rosebush, +of course; and Valancy never was really “quite right†again. She did +not seem to worry in the least over the fact that her mother was not +speaking to her. You would never suppose she noticed it at all. She had +flatly refused to take either Purple Pills or Redfern’s Bitters. She +had announced coolly that she did not intend to answer to the name of +“Doss†any longer. She had told Cousin Stickles that she wished she +would give up wearing that brooch with Cousin Artemas Stickles’ hair in +it. She had moved her bed in her room to the opposite corner. She had +read _Magic of Wings_ Sunday afternoon. When Cousin Stickles had +rebuked her Valancy had said indifferently, “Oh, I forgot it was +Sundayâ€â€”and _had gone on reading it_. + +Cousin Stickles had seen a terrible thing—she had caught Valancy +sliding down the bannister. Cousin Stickles did not tell Mrs. Frederick +this—poor Amelia was worried enough as it was. But it was Valancy’s +announcement on Saturday night that she was not going to go to the +Anglican church any more that broke through Mrs. Frederick’s stony +silence. + +“Not going to church any more! Doss, have you absolutely taken leave——†+ +“Oh, I’m going to church,†said Valancy airily. “I’m going to the +Presbyterian church. But to the Anglican church I will not go.†+ +This was even worse. Mrs. Frederick had recourse to tears, having found +outraged majesty had ceased to be effective. + +“What have you got against the Anglican church?†she sobbed. + +“Nothing—only just that you’ve always made me go there. If you’d made +me go to the Presbyterian church I’d want to go to the Anglican.†+ +“Is that a nice thing to say to your mother? Oh, how true it is that it +is sharper than a serpent’s tooth to have a thankless child.†+ +“Is that a nice thing to say to your daughter?†said unrepentant +Valancy. + +So Valancy’s behaviour at the silver wedding was not quite the surprise +to Mrs. Frederick and Christine Stickles that it was to the rest. They +were doubtful about the wisdom of taking her, but concluded it would +“make talk†if they didn’t. Perhaps she would behave herself, and so +far no outsider suspected there was anything queer about her. By a +special mercy of Providence it had poured torrents Sunday morning, so +Valancy had not carried out her hideous threat of going to the +Presbyterian church. + +Valancy would not have cared in the least if they had left her at home. +These family celebrations were all hopelessly dull. But the Stirlings +always celebrated everything. It was a long-established custom. Even +Mrs. Frederick gave a dinner party on her wedding anniversary and +Cousin Stickles had friends in to supper on her birthday. Valancy hated +these entertainments because they had to pinch and save and contrive +for weeks afterwards to pay for them. But she wanted to go to the +silver wedding. It would hurt Uncle Herbert’s feelings if she stayed +away, and she rather liked Uncle Herbert. Besides, she wanted to look +over all her relatives from her new angle. It would be an excellent +place to make public her declaration of independence if occasion +offered. + +“Put on your brown silk dress,†said Mrs. Stirling. + +As if there were anything else to put on! Valancy had only the one +festive dress—that snuffy-brown silk Aunt Isabel had given her. Aunt +Isabel had decreed that Valancy should never wear colours. They did not +become her. When she was young they allowed her to wear white, but that +had been tacitly dropped for some years. Valancy put on the brown silk. +It had a high collar and long sleeves. She had never had a dress with +low neck and elbow sleeves, although they had been worn, even in +Deerwood, for over a year. But she did not do her hair pompadour. She +knotted it on her neck and pulled it out over her ears. She thought it +became her—only the little knot was so absurdly small. Mrs. Frederick +resented the hair but decided it was wisest to say nothing on the eve +of the party. It was so important that Valancy should be kept in good +humour, if possible, until it was over. Mrs. Frederick did not reflect +that this was the first time in her life that she had thought it +necessary to consider Valancy’s humours. But then Valancy had never +been “queer†before. + +On their way to Uncle Herbert’s—Mrs. Frederick and Cousin Stickles +walking in front, Valancy trotting meekly along behind—Roaring Abel +drove past them. Drunk as usual but not in the roaring stage. Just +drunk enough to be excessively polite. He raised his disreputable old +tartan cap with the air of a monarch saluting his subjects and swept +them a grand bow. Mrs. Frederick and Cousin Stickles dared not cut +Roaring Abel altogether. He was the only person in Deerwood who could +be got to do odd jobs of carpentering and repairing when they needed to +be done, so it would not do to offend him. But they responded with only +the stiffest, slightest of bows. Roaring Abel must be kept in his +place. + +Valancy, behind them, did a thing they were fortunately spared seeing. +She smiled gaily and waved her hand to Roaring Abel. Why not? She had +always liked the old sinner. He was such a jolly, picturesque, +unashamed reprobate and stood out against the drab respectability of +Deerwood and its customs like a flame-red flag of revolt and protest. +Only a few nights ago Abel had gone through Deerwood in the wee sma’s, +shouting oaths at the top of his stentorian voice which could be heard +for miles, and lashing his horse into a furious gallop as he tore along +prim, proper Elm Street. + +“Yelling and blaspheming like a fiend,†shuddered Cousin Stickles at +the breakfast-table. + +“I cannot understand why the judgment of the Lord has not fallen upon +that man long ere this,†said Mrs. Frederick petulantly, as if she +thought Providence was very dilatory and ought to have a gentle +reminder. + +“He’ll be picked up dead some morning—he’ll fall under his horse’s +hoofs and be trampled to death,†said Cousin Stickles reassuringly. + +Valancy had said nothing, of course; but she wondered to herself if +Roaring Abel’s periodical sprees were not his futile protest against +the poverty and drudgery and monotony of his existence. _She_ went on +dream sprees in her Blue Castle. Roaring Abel, having no imagination, +could not do that. _His_ escapes from reality had to be concrete. So +she waved at him today with a sudden fellow feeling, and Roaring Abel, +not too drunk to be astonished, nearly fell off his seat in his +amazement. + +By this time they had reached Maple Avenue and Uncle Herbert’s house, a +large, pretentious structure peppered with meaningless bay windows and +excrescent porches. A house that always looked like a stupid, +prosperous, self-satisfied man with warts on his face. + +“A house like that,†said Valancy solemnly, “is a blasphemy.†+ +Mrs. Frederick was shaken to her soul. What had Valancy said? Was it +profane? Or only just queer? Mrs. Frederick took off her hat in Aunt +Alberta’s spare-room with trembling hands. She made one more feeble +attempt to avert disaster. She held Valancy back on the landing as +Cousin Stickles went downstairs. + +“Won’t you try to remember you’re a lady?†she pleaded. + +“Oh, if there were only any hope of being able to forget it!†said +Valancy wearily. + +Mrs. Frederick felt that she had not deserved this from Providence. + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +“Bless this food to our use and consecrate our lives to Thy service,†+said Uncle Herbert briskly. + +Aunt Wellington frowned. She always considered Herbert’s graces +entirely too short and “flippant.†A grace, to be a grace in Aunt +Wellington’s eyes, had to be at least three minutes long and uttered in +an unearthly tone, between a groan and a chant. As a protest she kept +her head bent a perceptible time after all the rest had been lifted. +When she permitted herself to sit upright she found Valancy looking at +her. Ever afterwards Aunt Wellington averred that she had known from +that moment that there was something wrong with Valancy. In those +queer, slanted eyes of hers—“we should always have known she was not +entirely _right_ with eyes like thatâ€â€”there was an odd gleam of mockery +and amusement—as if Valancy were laughing at _her_. Such a thing was +unthinkable, of course. Aunt Wellington at once ceased to think it. + +Valancy was enjoying herself. She had never enjoyed herself at a +“family reunion†before. In social function, as in childish games, she +had only “filled in.†Her clan had always considered her very dull. She +had no parlour tricks. And she had been in the habit of taking refuge +from the boredom of family parties in her Blue Castle, which resulted +in an absent-mindedness that increased her reputation for dulness and +vacuity. + +“She has no social presence whatever,†Aunt Wellington had decreed once +and for all. Nobody dreamed that Valancy was dumb in their presence +merely because she was afraid of them. Now she was no longer afraid of +them. The shackles had been stricken off her soul. She was quite +prepared to talk if occasion offered. Meanwhile she was giving herself +such freedom of thought as she had never dared to take before. She let +herself go with a wild, inner exultation, as Uncle Herbert carved the +turkey. Uncle Herbert gave Valancy a second look that day. Being a man, +he didn’t know what she had done to her hair, but he thought +surprisedly that Doss was not such a bad-looking girl, after all; and +he put an extra piece of white meat on her plate. + +“What herb is most injurious to a young lady’s beauty?†propounded +Uncle Benjamin by way of starting conversation—“loosening things up a +bit,†as he would have said. + +Valancy, whose duty it was to say, “What?†did not say it. Nobody else +said it, so Uncle Benjamin, after an expectant pause, had to answer, +“Thyme,†and felt that his riddle had fallen flat. He looked +resentfully at Valancy, who had never failed him before, but Valancy +did not seem even to be aware of him. She was gazing around the table, +examining relentlessly every one in this depressing assembly of +sensible people and watching their little squirms with a detached, +amused smile. + +So these were the people she had always held in reverence and fear. She +seemed to see them with new eyes. + +Big, capable, patronising, voluble Aunt Mildred, who thought herself +the cleverest woman in the clan, her husband a little lower than the +angels and her children wonders. Had not her son, Howard, been all +through teething at eleven months? And could she not tell you the best +way to do everything, from cooking mushrooms to picking up a snake? +What a bore she was! What ugly moles she had on her face! + +Cousin Gladys, who was always praising her son, who had died young, and +always fighting with her living one. She had neuritis—or what she +called neuritis. It jumped about from one part of her body to another. +It was a convenient thing. If anybody wanted her to go somewhere she +didn’t want to go she had neuritis in her legs. And always if any +mental effort was required she could have neuritis in her head. You +can’t _think_ with neuritis in your head, my dear. + +“What an old humbug you are!†thought Valancy impiously. + +Aunt Isabel. Valancy counted her chins. Aunt Isabel was the critic of +the clan. She had always gone about squashing people flat. More members +of it than Valancy were afraid of her. She had, it was conceded, a +biting tongue. + +“I wonder what would happen to your face if you ever smiled,†+speculated Valancy, unblushingly. + +Second Cousin Sarah Taylor, with her great, pale, expressionless eyes, +who was noted for the variety of her pickle recipes and for nothing +else. So afraid of saying something indiscreet that she never said +anything worth listening to. So proper that she blushed when she saw +the advertisement picture of a corset and had put a dress on her Venus +de Milo statuette which made it look “real tasty.†+ +Little Cousin Georgiana. Not such a bad little soul. But dreary—very. +Always looking as if she had just been starched and ironed. Always +afraid to let herself go. The only thing she really enjoyed was a +funeral. You knew where you were with a corpse. Nothing more could +happen to _it_. But while there was life there was fear. + +Uncle James. Handsome, black, with his sarcastic, trap-like mouth and +iron-grey side-burns, whose favourite amusement was to write +controversial letters to the _Christian Times_, attacking Modernism. +Valancy always wondered if he looked as solemn when he was asleep as he +did when awake. No wonder his wife had died young. Valancy remembered +her. A pretty, sensitive thing. Uncle James had denied her everything +she wanted and showered on her everything she didn’t want. He had +killed her—quite legally. She had been smothered and starved. + +Uncle Benjamin, wheezy, pussy-mouthed. With great pouches under eyes +that held nothing in reverence. + +Uncle Wellington. Long, pallid face, thin, pale-yellow hair—“one of the +fair Stirlingsâ€â€”thin, stooping body, abominably high forehead with such +ugly wrinkles, and “eyes about as intelligent as a fish’s,†thought +Valancy. “Looks like a cartoon of himself.†+ +Aunt Wellington. Named Mary but called by her husband’s name to +distinguish her from Great-aunt Mary. A massive, dignified, permanent +lady. Splendidly arranged, iron-grey hair. Rich, fashionable beaded +dress. Had _her_ moles removed by electrolysis—which Aunt Mildred +thought was a wicked evasion of the purposes of God. + +Uncle Herbert, with his spiky grey hair. Aunt Alberta, who twisted her +mouth so unpleasantly in talking and had a great reputation for +unselfishness because she was always giving up a lot of things she +didn’t want. Valancy let them off easily in her judgment because she +liked them, even if they were in Milton’s expressive phrase, “stupidly +good.†But she wondered for what inscrutable reason Aunt Alberta had +seen fit to tie a black velvet ribbon around each of her chubby arms +above the elbow. + +Then she looked across the table at Olive. Olive, who had been held up +to her as a paragon of beauty, behaviour and success as long as she +could remember. “Why can’t you hold yourself like Olive, Doss? Why +can’t you stand correctly like Olive, Doss? Why can’t you speak +prettily like Olive, Doss? Why can’t you make an effort, Doss?†+ +Valancy’s elfin eyes lost their mocking glitter and became pensive and +sorrowful. You could not ignore or disdain Olive. It was quite +impossible to deny that she was beautiful and effective and sometimes +she was a little intelligent. Her mouth might be a trifle heavy—she +might show her fine, white, regular teeth rather too lavishly when she +smiled. But when all was said and done, Olive justified Uncle +Benjamin’s summing up—“a stunning girl.†Yes, Valancy agreed in her +heart, Olive was stunning. + +Rich, golden-brown hair, elaborately dressed, with a sparkling bandeau +holding its glossy puffs in place; large, brilliant blue eyes and thick +silken lashes; face of rose and bare neck of snow, rising above her +gown; great pearl bubbles in her ears; the blue-white diamond flame on +her long, smooth, waxen finger with its rosy, pointed nail. Arms of +marble, gleaming through green chiffon and shadow lace. Valancy felt +suddenly thankful that her own scrawny arms were decently swathed in +brown silk. Then she resumed her tabulation of Olive’s charms. + +Tall. Queenly. Confident. Everything that Valancy was _not_. Dimples, +too, in cheeks and chin. “A woman with dimples always gets her own +way,†thought Valancy, in a recurring spasm of bitterness at the fate +which had denied her even one dimple. + +Olive was only a year younger than Valancy, though a stranger would +have thought that there was at least ten years between them. But nobody +ever dreaded old maidenhood for her. Olive had been surrounded by a +crowd of eager beaus since her early teens, just as her mirror was +always surrounded by a fringe of cards, photographs, programmes and +invitations. At eighteen, when she had graduated from Havergal College, +Olive had been engaged to Will Desmond, lawyer in embryo. Will Desmond +had died and Olive had mourned for him properly for two years. When she +was twenty-three she had a hectic affair with Donald Jackson. But Aunt +and Uncle Wellington disapproved of that and in the end Olive dutifully +gave him up. Nobody in the Stirling clan—whatever outsiders might +say—hinted that she did so because Donald himself was cooling off. +However that might be, Olive’s third venture met with everybody’s +approval. Cecil Price was clever and handsome and “one of the Port +Lawrence Prices.†Olive had been engaged to him for three years. He had +just graduated in civil engineering and they were to be married as soon +as he landed a contract. Olive’s hope chest was full to overflowing +with exquisite things and Olive had already confided to Valancy what +her wedding-dress was to be. Ivory silk draped with lace, white satin +court train, lined with pale green georgette, heirloom veil of Brussels +lace. Valancy knew also—though Olive had not told her—that the +bridesmaids were selected and that she was not among them. + +Valancy had, after a fashion, always been Olive’s confidante—perhaps +because she was the only girl in the connection who could not bore +Olive with return confidences. Olive always told Valancy all the +details of her love affairs, from the days when the little boys in +school used to “persecute†her with love letters. Valancy could not +comfort herself by thinking these affairs mythical. Olive really had +them. Many men had gone mad over her besides the three fortunate ones. + +“I don’t know what the poor idiots see in me, that drives them to make +such double idiots of themselves,†Olive was wont to say. Valancy would +have liked to say, “I don’t either,†but truth and diplomacy both +restrained her. She _did_ know, perfectly well. Olive Stirling was one +of the girls about whom men do go mad just as indubitably as she, +Valancy, was one of the girls at whom no man ever looked twice. + +“And yet,†thought Valancy, summing her up with a new and merciless +conclusiveness, “she’s like a dewless morning. There’s _something_ +lacking.†+ + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +Meanwhile the dinner in its earlier stages was dragging its slow length +along true to Stirling form. The room was chilly, in spite of the +calendar, and Aunt Alberta had the gas-logs lighted. Everybody in the +clan envied her those gas-logs except Valancy. Glorious open fires +blazed in every room of her Blue Castle when autumnal nights were cool, +but she would have frozen to death in it before she would have +committed the sacrilege of a gas-log. Uncle Herbert made his hardy +perennial joke when he helped Aunt Wellington to the cold meat—“Mary, +will you have a little lamb?†Aunt Mildred told the same old story of +once finding a lost ring in a turkey’s crop. Uncle Benjamin told _his_ +favourite prosy tale of how he had once chased and punished a now +famous man for stealing apples. Second Cousin Jane described all her +sufferings with an ulcerating tooth. Aunt Wellington admired the +pattern of Aunt Alberta’s silver teaspoons and lamented the fact that +one of her own had been lost. + +“It spoiled the set. I could never get it matched. And it was my +wedding-present from dear old Aunt Matilda.†+ +Aunt Isabel thought the seasons were changing and couldn’t imagine what +had become of our good, old-fashioned springs. Cousin Georgiana, as +usual, discussed the last funeral and wondered, audibly, “which of us +will be the next to pass away.†Cousin Georgiana could never say +anything as blunt as “die.†Valancy thought she could tell her, but +didn’t. Cousin Gladys, likewise as usual, had a grievance. Her visiting +nephews had nipped all the buds off her house-plants and chivied her +brood of fancy chickens—“squeezed some of them actually to death, my +dear.†+ +“Boys will be boys,†reminded Uncle Herbert tolerantly. + +“But they needn’t be ramping, rampageous animals,†retorted Cousin +Gladys, looking round the table for appreciation of her wit. Everybody +smiled except Valancy. Cousin Gladys remembered that. A few minutes +later, when Ellen Hamilton was being discussed, Cousin Gladys spoke of +her as “one of those shy, plain girls who can’t get husbands,†and +glanced significantly at Valancy. + +Uncle James thought the conversation was sagging to a rather low plane +of personal gossip. He tried to elevate it by starting an abstract +discussion on “the greatest happiness.†Everybody was asked to state +his or her idea of “the greatest happiness.†+ +Aunt Mildred thought the greatest happiness—for a woman—was to be “a +loving and beloved wife and mother.†Aunt Wellington thought it would +be to travel in Europe. Olive thought it would be to be a great singer +like Tetrazzini. Cousin Gladys remarked mournfully that _her_ greatest +happiness would be to be free—absolutely free—from neuritis. Cousin +Georgiana’s greatest happiness would be “to have her dear, dead brother +Richard back.†Aunt Alberta remarked vaguely that the greatest +happiness was to be found in “the poetry of life†and hastily gave some +directions to her maid to prevent any one asking her what she meant. +Mrs. Frederick said the greatest happiness was to spend your life in +loving service for others, and Cousin Stickles and Aunt Isabel agreed +with her—Aunt Isabel with a resentful air, as if she thought Mrs. +Frederick had taken the wind out of her sails by saying it first. “We +are all too prone,†continued Mrs. Frederick, determined not to lose so +good an opportunity, “to live in selfishness, worldliness and sin.†The +other women all felt rebuked for their low ideals, and Uncle James had +a conviction that the conversation had been uplifted with a vengeance. + +“The greatest happiness,†said Valancy suddenly and distinctly, “is to +sneeze when you want to.†+ +Everybody stared. Nobody felt it safe to say anything. Was Valancy +trying to be funny? It was incredible. Mrs. Frederick, who had been +breathing easier since the dinner had progressed so far without any +outbreak on the part of Valancy, began to tremble again. But she deemed +it the part of prudence to say nothing. Uncle Benjamin was not so +prudent. He rashly rushed in where Mrs. Frederick feared to tread. + +“Doss,†he chuckled, “what is the difference between a young girl and +an old maid?†+ +“One is happy and careless and the other is cappy and hairless,†said +Valancy. “You have asked that riddle at least fifty times in my +recollection, Uncle Ben. Why don’t you hunt up some new riddles if +riddle you _must_? It is such a fatal mistake to try to be funny if you +don’t succeed.†+ +Uncle Benjamin stared foolishly. Never in his life had he, Benjamin +Stirling, of Stirling and Frost, been spoken to so. And by Valancy of +all people! He looked feebly around the table to see what the others +thought of it. Everybody was looking rather blank. Poor Mrs. Frederick +had shut her eyes. And her lips moved tremblingly—as if she were +praying. Perhaps she was. The situation was so unprecedented that +nobody knew how to meet it. Valancy went on calmly eating her salad as +if nothing out of the usual had occurred. + +Aunt Alberta, to save her dinner, plunged into an account of how a dog +had bitten her recently. Uncle James, to back her up, asked where the +dog had bitten her. + +“Just a little below the Catholic church,†said Aunt Alberta. + +At that point Valancy laughed. Nobody else laughed. What was there to +laugh at? + +“Is that a vital part?†asked Valancy. + +“What do you mean?†said bewildered Aunt Alberta, and Mrs. Frederick +was almost driven to believe that she had served God all her years for +naught. + +Aunt Isabel concluded that it was up to her to suppress Valancy. + +“Doss, you are horribly thin,†she said. “You are _all_ corners. Do you +_ever_ try to fatten up a little?†+ +“No.†Valancy was not asking quarter or giving it. “But I can tell you +where you’ll find a beauty parlor in Port Lawrence where they can +reduce the number of your chins.†+ +“_Val-an-cy_!†The protest was wrung from Mrs. Frederick. She meant her +tone to be stately and majestic, as usual, but it sounded more like an +imploring whine. And she did not say “Doss.†+ +“She’s feverish,†said Cousin Stickles to Uncle Benjamin in an agonised +whisper. “We’ve thought she’s seemed feverish for several days.†+ +“She’s gone dippy, in my opinion,†growled Uncle Benjamin. “If not, she +ought to be spanked. Yes, spanked.†+ +“You can’t spank her.†Cousin Stickles was much agitated. “She’s +twenty-nine years old.†+ +“So there is that advantage, at least, in being twenty-nine,†said +Valancy, whose ears had caught this aside. + +“Doss,†said Uncle Benjamin, “when I am dead you may say what you +please. As long as I am alive I demand to be treated with respect.†+ +“Oh, but you know we’re all dead,†said Valancy, “the whole Stirling +clan. Some of us are buried and some aren’t—yet. That is the only +difference.†+ +“Doss,†said Uncle Benjamin, thinking it might cow Valancy, “do you +remember the time you stole the raspberry jam?†+ +Valancy flushed scarlet—with suppressed laughter, not shame. She had +been sure Uncle Benjamin would drag that jam in somehow. + +“Of course I do,†she said. “It was good jam. I’ve always been sorry I +hadn’t time to eat more of it before you found me. Oh, _look_ at Aunt +Isabel’s profile on the wall. Did you ever see anything so funny?†+ +Everybody looked, including Aunt Isabel herself, which of course, +destroyed it. But Uncle Herbert said kindly, “I—I wouldn’t eat any more +if I were you, Doss. It isn’t that I grudge it—but don’t you think it +would be better for yourself? Your—your stomach seems a little out of +order.†+ +“Don’t worry about my stomach, old dear,†said Valancy. “It is all +right. I’m going to keep right on eating. It’s so seldom I get the +chance of a satisfying meal.†+ +It was the first time any one had been called “old dear†in Deerwood. +The Stirlings thought Valancy had invented the phrase and they were +afraid of her from that moment. There was something so uncanny about +such an expression. But in poor Mrs. Frederick’s opinion the reference +to a satisfying meal was the worst thing Valancy had said yet. Valancy +had always been a disappointment to her. Now she was a disgrace. She +thought she would have to get up and go away from the table. Yet she +dared not leave Valancy there. + +Aunt Alberta’s maid came in to remove the salad plates and bring in the +dessert. It was a welcome diversion. Everybody brightened up with a +determination to ignore Valancy and talk as if she wasn’t there. Uncle +Wellington mentioned Barney Snaith. Eventually somebody did mention +Barney Snaith at every Stirling function, Valancy reflected. Whatever +he was, he was an individual that could not be ignored. She resigned +herself to listen. There was a subtle fascination in the subject for +her, though she had not yet faced this fact. She could feel her pulses +beating to her finger-tips. + +Of course they abused him. Nobody ever had a good word to say of Barney +Snaith. All the old, wild tales were canvassed—the defaulting +cashier-counterfeiter-infidel-murderer-in-hiding legends were thrashed +out. Uncle Wellington was very indignant that such a creature should be +allowed to exist at all in the neighbourhood of Deerwood. He didn’t +know what the police at Port Lawrence were thinking of. Everybody would +be murdered in their beds some night. It was a shame that he should be +allowed to be at large after all that he had done. + +“What _has_ he done?†asked Valancy suddenly. + +Uncle Wellington stared at her, forgetting that she was to be ignored. + +“Done! Done! He’s done _everything_.†+ +“_What_ has he done?†repeated Valancy inexorably. “What do you _know_ +that he has done? You’re always running him down. And what has ever +been proved against him?†+ +“I don’t argue with women,†said Uncle Wellington. “And I don’t need +proof. When a man hides himself up there on an island in Muskoka, year +in and year out, and nobody can find out where he came from or how he +lives, or what he does there, _that’s_ proof enough. Find a mystery and +you find a crime.†+ +“The very idea of a man named Snaith!†said Second Cousin Sarah. “Why, +the name itself is enough to condemn him!†+ +“I wouldn’t like to meet him in a dark lane,†shivered Cousin +Georgiana. + +“What do you suppose he would do to you?†asked Valancy. + +“Murder me,†said Cousin Georgiana solemnly. + +“Just for the fun of it?†suggested Valancy. + +“Exactly,†said Cousin Georgiana unsuspiciously. “When there is so much +smoke there must be some fire. I was afraid he was a criminal when he +came here first. I _felt_ he had something to hide. I am not often +mistaken in my intuitions.†+ +“Criminal! Of course he’s a criminal,†said Uncle Wellington. “Nobody +doubts itâ€â€”glaring at Valancy. “Why, they say he served a term in the +penitentiary for embezzlement. I don’t doubt it. And they say he’s in +with that gang that are perpetrating all those bank robberies round the +country.†+ +“_Who_ say?†asked Valancy. + +Uncle Wellington knotted his ugly forehead at her. What had got into +this confounded girl, anyway? He ignored the question. + +“He has the identical look of a jail-bird,†snapped Uncle Benjamin. “I +noticed it the first time I saw him.†+ +“‘A fellow by the hand of nature marked, +Quoted and signed to do a deed of shame’,†+ + +declaimed Uncle James. He looked enormously pleased over managing to +work that quotation in at last. He had been waiting all his life for +the chance. + +“One of his eyebrows is an arch and the other is a triangle,†said +Valancy. “Is _that_ why you think him so villainous?†+ +Uncle James lifted _his_ eyebrows. Generally when Uncle James lifted +his eyebrows the world came to an end. This time it continued to +function. + +“How do _you_ know his eyebrows so well, Doss?†asked Olive, a trifle +maliciously. Such a remark would have covered Valancy with confusion +two weeks ago, and Olive knew it. + +“Yes, how?†demanded Aunt Wellington. + +“I’ve seen him twice and I looked at him closely,†said Valancy +composedly. “I thought his face the most interesting one I ever saw.†+ +“There is no doubt there is something fishy in the creature’s past +life,†said Olive, who began to think she was decidedly out of the +conversation, which had centred so amazingly around Valancy. “But he +can hardly be guilty of _everything_ he’s accused of, you know.†+ +Valancy felt annoyed with Olive. Why should _she_ speak up in even this +qualified defence of Barney Snaith? What had _she_ to do with him? For +that matter, what had Valancy? But Valancy did not ask herself this +question. + +“They say he keeps dozens of cats in that hut up back on Mistawis,†+said Second Cousin Sarah Taylor, by way of appearing not entirely +ignorant of him. + +Cats. It sounded quite alluring to Valancy, in the plural. She pictured +an island in Muskoka haunted by pussies. + +“That alone shows there is something wrong with him,†decreed Aunt +Isabel. + +“People who don’t like cats,†said Valancy, attacking her dessert with +a relish, “always seem to think that there is some peculiar virtue in +not liking them.†+ +“The man hasn’t a friend except Roaring Abel,†said Uncle Wellington. +“And if Roaring Abel had kept away from him, as everybody else did, it +would have been better for—for some members of his family.†+ +Uncle Wellington’s rather lame conclusion was due to a marital glance +from Aunt Wellington reminding him of what he had almost forgotten—that +there were girls at the table. + +“If you mean,†said Valancy passionately, “that Barney Snaith is the +father of Cecily Gay’s child, he _isn’t_. It’s a wicked lie.†+ +In spite of her indignation Valancy was hugely amused at the expression +of the faces around that festal table. She had not seen anything like +it since the day, seventeen years ago, when at Cousin Gladys’ thimble +party, they discovered that she had got—SOMETHING—in her head at +school. _Lice_ in her head! Valancy was done with euphemisms. + +Poor Mrs. Frederick was almost in a state of collapse. She had +believed—or pretended to believe—that Valancy still supposed that +children were found in parsley beds. + +“Hush—hush!†implored Cousin Stickles. + +“I don’t mean to hush,†said Valancy perversely. “I’ve hush—hushed all +my life. I’ll scream if I want to. Don’t make me want to. And stop +talking nonsense about Barney Snaith.†+ +Valancy didn’t exactly understand her own indignation. What did Barney +Snaith’s imputed crimes and misdemeanours matter to her? And why, out +of them all, did it seem most intolerable that he should have been +poor, pitiful little Cecily Gay’s false lover? For it _did_ seem +intolerable to her. She did not mind when they called him a thief and a +counterfeiter and jail-bird; but she could not endure to think that he +had loved and ruined Cecily Gay. She recalled his face on the two +occasions of their chance meetings—his twisted, enigmatic, engaging +smile, his twinkle, his thin, sensitive, almost ascetic lips, his +general air of frank daredeviltry. A man with such a smile and lips +might have murdered or stolen but he could not have betrayed. She +suddenly hated every one who said it or believed it of him. + +“When _I_ was a young girl I never thought or spoke about such matters, +Doss,†said Aunt Wellington, crushingly. + +“But I’m not a young girl,†retorted Valancy, uncrushed. “Aren’t you +always rubbing that into me? And you are all evil-minded, senseless +gossips. Can’t you leave poor Cissy Gay alone? She’s dying. Whatever +she did, God or the Devil has punished her enough for it. _You_ needn’t +take a hand, too. As for Barney Snaith, the only crime he has been +guilty of is living to himself and minding his own business. He can, it +seems, get along without you. Which _is_ an unpardonable sin, of +course, in your little snobocracy.†Valancy coined that concluding word +suddenly and felt that it was an inspiration. That was exactly what +they were and not one of them was fit to mend another. + +“Valancy, your poor father would turn over in his grave if he could +hear you,†said Mrs. Frederick. + +“I dare say he would like that for a change,†said Valancy brazenly. + +“Doss,†said Uncle James heavily, “the Ten Commandments are fairly up +to date still—especially the fifth. Have you forgotten that?†+ +“No,†said Valancy, “but I thought _you_ had—especially the ninth. Have +you ever thought, Uncle James, how dull life would be without the Ten +Commandments? It is only when things are forbidden that they become +fascinating.†+ +But her excitement had been too much for her. She knew, by certain +unmistakable warnings, that one of her attacks of pain was coming on. +It must not find her there. She rose from her chair. + +“I am going home now. I only came for the dinner. It was very good, +Aunt Alberta, although your salad-dressing is not salt enough and a +dash of cayenne would improve it.†+ +None of the flabbergasted silver wedding guests could think of anything +to say until the lawn gate clanged behind Valancy in the dusk. Then— + +“She’s feverish—I’ve said right along she was feverish,†moaned Cousin +Stickles. + +Uncle Benjamin punished his pudgy left hand fiercely with his pudgy +right. + +“She’s dippy—I tell you she’s gone dippy,†he snorted angrily. “That’s +all there is about it. Clean dippy.†+ +“Oh, Benjamin,†said Cousin Georgiana soothingly, “don’t condemn her +too rashly. We _must_ remember what dear old Shakespeare says—that +charity thinketh no evil.†+ +“Charity! Poppy-cock!†snorted Uncle Benjamin. “I never heard a young +woman talk such stuff in my life as she just did. Talking about things +she ought to be ashamed to think of, much less mention. Blaspheming! +Insulting _us_! What she wants is a generous dose of spank-weed and I’d +like to be the one to administer it. H-uh-h-h-h!†Uncle Benjamin gulped +down the half of a scalding cup of coffee. + +“Do you suppose that the mumps could work on a person that way?†wailed +Cousin Stickles. + +“I opened an umbrella in the house yesterday,†sniffed Cousin +Georgiana. “I _knew_ it betokened some misfortune.†+ +“Have you tried to find out if she has a temperature?†asked Cousin +Mildred. + +“She wouldn’t let Amelia put the thermometer under her tongue,†+whimpered Cousin Stickles. + +Mrs. Frederick was openly in tears. All her defences were down. + +“I must tell you,†she sobbed, “that Valancy has been acting very +strangely for over two weeks now. She hasn’t been a bit like +herself—Christine could tell you. I have hoped against hope that it was +only one of her colds coming on. But it is—it must be something worse.†+ +“This is bringing on my neuritis again,†said Cousin Gladys, putting +her hand to her head. + +“Don’t cry, Amelia,†said Herbert kindly, pulling nervously at his +spiky grey hair. He hated “family ructions.†Very inconsiderate of Doss +to start one at _his_ silver wedding. Who could have supposed she had +it in her? “You’ll have to take her to a doctor. This may be only +a—er—a brainstorm. There are such things as brainstorms nowadays, +aren’t there?†+ +“I—I suggested consulting a doctor to her yesterday,†moaned Mrs. +Frederick. “And she said she wouldn’t go to a doctor—wouldn’t. Oh, +surely I have had trouble enough!†+ +“And she _won’t_ take Redfern’s Bitters,†said Cousin Stickles. + +“Or _anything_,†said Mrs. Frederick. + +“And she’s determined to go to the Presbyterian church,†said Cousin +Stickles—repressing, however, to her credit be it said, the story of +the bannister. + +“That proves she’s dippy,†growled Uncle Benjamin. “I noticed something +strange about her the minute she came in today. I noticed it _before_ +today.†(Uncle Benjamin was thinking of “m-i-r-a-z-h.â€) “Everything she +said today showed an unbalanced mind. That question—‘Was it a vital +part?’ Was there any sense at all in that remark? None whatever! There +never was anything like that in the Stirlings. It must be from the +Wansbarras.†+ +Poor Mrs. Frederick was too crushed to be indignant. + +“I never heard of anything like that in the Wansbarras,†she sobbed. + +“Your father was odd enough,†said Uncle Benjamin. + +“Poor Pa was—peculiar,†admitted Mrs. Frederick tearfully, “but his +mind was never affected.†+ +“He talked all his life exactly as Valancy did today,†retorted Uncle +Benjamin. “And he believed he was his own great-great grandfather born +over again. I’ve heard him say it. Don’t tell _me_ that a man who +believed a thing like _that_ was ever in his right senses. Come, come, +Amelia, stop sniffling. Of course Doss has made a terrible exhibition +of herself today, but she’s not responsible. Old maids are apt to fly +off at a tangent like that. If she had been married when she should +have been she wouldn’t have got like this.†+ +“Nobody wanted to marry her,†said Mrs. Frederick, who felt that, +somehow, Uncle Benjamin was blaming her. + +“Well, fortunately there’s no outsider here,†snapped Uncle Benjamin. +“We may keep it in the family yet. I’ll take her over to see Dr. Marsh +tomorrow. _I_ know how to deal with pig-headed people. Won’t that be +best, James?†+ +“We must have medical advice certainly,†agreed Uncle James. + +“Well, that’s settled. In the meantime, Amelia, act as if nothing had +happened and keep an eye on her. Don’t let her be alone. Above all, +don’t let her sleep alone.†+ +Renewed whimpers from Mrs. Frederick. + +“I can’t help it. Night before last I suggested she’d better have +Christine sleep with her. She positively refused—_and locked her door_. +Oh, you don’t know how she’s changed. She won’t work. At least, she +won’t sew. She does her usual housework, of course. But she wouldn’t +sweep the parlour yesterday morning, though we _always_ sweep it on +Thursdays. She said she’d wait till it was dirty. ‘Would you rather +sweep a dirty room than a clean one?’ I asked her. She said, ‘Of +course. I’d see something for my labour then.’ Think of it!†+ +Uncle Benjamin thought of it. + +“The jar of potpourriâ€â€”Cousin Stickles pronounced it as spelled—“has +disappeared from her room. I found the pieces in the next lot. She +won’t tell us what happened to it.†+ +“I should never have dreamed it of Doss,†said Uncle Herbert. “She has +always seemed such a quiet, sensible girl. A bit backward—but +sensible.†+ +“The only thing you can be sure of in this world is the multiplication +table,†said Uncle James, feeling cleverer than ever. + +“Well, let’s cheer up,†suggested Uncle Benjamin. “Why are chorus girls +like fine stock raisers?†+ +“Why?†asked Cousin Stickles, since it had to be asked and Valancy +wasn’t there to ask it. + +“Like to exhibit calves,†chuckled Uncle Benjamin. + +Cousin Stickles thought Uncle Benjamin a little indelicate. Before +Olive, too. But then, he was a man. + +Uncle Herbert was thinking that things were rather dull now that Doss +had gone. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +Valancy hurried home through the faint blue twilight—hurried too fast +perhaps. The attack she had when she thankfully reached the shelter of +her own room was the worst yet. It was really very bad. She might die +in one of those spells. It would be dreadful to die in such pain. +Perhaps—perhaps this was death. Valancy felt pitifully alone. When she +could think at all she wondered what it would be like to have some one +with her who could sympathise—some one who really cared—just to hold +her hand tight, if nothing else—some one just to say, “Yes, I know. +It’s dreadful—be brave—you’ll soon be better;†not some one merely +fussy and alarmed. Not her mother or Cousin Stickles. Why did the +thought of Barney Snaith come into her mind? Why did she suddenly feel, +in the midst of this hideous loneliness of pain, that _he_ would be +sympathetic—sorry for any one that was suffering? Why did he seem to +her like an old, well-known friend? Was it because she had been +defending him—standing up to her family for him? + +She was so bad at first that she could not even get herself a dose of +Dr. Trent’s prescription. But eventually she managed it, and soon after +relief came. The pain left her and she lay on her bed, spent, +exhausted, in a cold perspiration. Oh, that had been horrible! She +could not endure many more attacks like that. One didn’t mind dying if +death could be instant and painless. But to be hurt so in dying! + +Suddenly she found herself laughing. That dinner _had_ been fun. And it +had all been so simple. She had merely _said_ the things she had always +_thought_. Their faces—oh, their faces! Uncle Benjamin—poor, +flabbergasted Uncle Benjamin! Valancy felt quite sure he would make a +new will that very night. Olive would get Valancy’s share of his fat +hoard. Olive had always got Valancy’s share of everything. Remember the +dust-pile. + +To laugh at her clan as she had always wanted to laugh was all the +satisfaction she could get out of life now. But she thought it was +rather pitiful that it should be so. Might she not pity herself a +little when nobody else did? + +Valancy got up and went to her window. The moist, beautiful wind +blowing across groves of young-leafed wild trees touched her face with +the caress of a wise, tender, old friend. The lombardies in Mrs. +Tredgold’s lawn, off to the left—Valancy could just see them between +the stable and the old carriage-shop—were in dark purple silhouette +against a clear sky and there was a milk-white, pulsating star just +over one of them, like a living pearl on a silver-green lake. Far +beyond the station were the shadowy, purple-hooded woods around Lake +Mistawis. A white, filmy mist hung over them and just above it was a +faint, young crescent. Valancy looked at it over her thin left +shoulder. + +“I wish,†she said whimsically, “that I may have _one_ little dust-pile +before I die.†+ + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +Uncle Benjamin found he had reckoned without his host when he promised +so airily to take Valancy to a doctor. Valancy would not go. Valancy +laughed in his face. + +“Why on earth should I go to Dr. Marsh? There’s nothing the matter with +my mind. Though you all think I’ve suddenly gone crazy. Well, I +haven’t. I’ve simply grown tired of living to please other people and +have decided to please myself. It will give you something to talk about +besides my stealing the raspberry jam. So that’s that.†+ +“Doss,†said Uncle Benjamin, solemnly and helplessly, “you are not—like +yourself.†+ +“Who am I like, then?†asked Valancy. + +Uncle Benjamin was rather posed. + +“Your Grandfather Wansbarra,†he answered desperately. + +“Thanks.†Valancy looked pleased. “That’s a real compliment. I remember +Grandfather Wansbarra. He was one of the few human beings I _have_ +known—almost the only one. Now, it is of no use to scold or entreat or +command, Uncle Benjamin—or exchange anguished glances with Mother and +Cousin Stickles. I am not going to any doctor. And if you bring any +doctor here I won’t see him. So what are you going to do about it?†+ +What indeed! It was not seemly—or even possible—to hale Valancy +doctorwards by physical force. And in no other way could it be done, +seemingly. Her mother’s tears and imploring entreaties availed not. + +“Don’t worry, Mother,†said Valancy, lightly but quite respectfully. +“It isn’t likely I’ll do anything very terrible. But I mean to have a +little fun.†+ +“Fun!†Mrs. Frederick uttered the word as if Valancy had said she was +going to have a little tuberculosis. + +Olive, sent by her mother to see if _she_ had any influence over +Valancy, came away with flushed cheeks and angry eyes. She told her +mother that nothing could be done with Valancy. After _she_, Olive, had +talked to her just like a sister, tenderly and wisely, all Valancy had +said, narrowing her funny eyes to mere slips, was, “_I_ don’t show my +gums when I laugh.†+ +“More as if she were talking to herself than to me. Indeed, Mother, all +the time I was talking to her she gave me the impression of not really +listening. And that wasn’t all. When I finally decided that what I was +saying had no influence over her I begged her, when Cecil came next +week, not to say anything queer before him, at least. Mother, what do +you think she said?†+ +“I’m sure I can’t imagine,†groaned Aunt Wellington, prepared for +anything. + +“She said, ‘I’d rather like to shock Cecil. His mouth is too red for a +man’s.’ Mother, I can never feel the same to Valancy again.†+ +“Her mind is affected, Olive,†said Aunt Wellington solemnly. “You must +not hold her responsible for what she says.†+ +When Aunt Wellington told Mrs. Frederick what Valancy had said to +Olive, Mrs. Frederick wanted Valancy to apologise. + +“You made me apologise to Olive fifteen years ago for something I +didn’t do,†said Valancy. “That old apology will do for now.†+ +Another solemn family conclave was held. They were all there except +Cousin Gladys, who had been suffering such tortures of neuritis in her +head “ever since poor Doss went queer†that she couldn’t undertake any +responsibility. They decided—that is, they accepted a fact that was +thrust in their faces—that the wisest thing was to leave Valancy alone +for a while—“give her her head†as Uncle Benjamin expressed it—“keep a +careful eye on her but let her pretty much alone.†The term of +“watchful waiting†had not been invented then, but that was practically +the policy Valancy’s distracted relatives decided to follow. + +“We must be guided by developments,†said Uncle Benjamin. “It +isâ€â€”solemnly—“easier to scramble eggs than unscramble them. Of +course—if she becomes violent——†+ +Uncle James consulted Dr. Ambrose Marsh. Dr. Ambrose Marsh approved +their decision. He pointed out to irate Uncle James—who would have +liked to lock Valancy up somewhere, out of hand—that Valancy had not, +as yet, really done or said anything that could be construed as proof +of lunacy—and without proof you cannot lock people up in this +degenerate age. Nothing that Uncle James had reported seemed very +alarming to Dr. Marsh, who put up his hand to conceal a smile several +times. But then he himself was not a Stirling. And he knew very little +about the old Valancy. Uncle James stalked out and drove back to +Deerwood, thinking that Ambrose Marsh wasn’t much of a doctor, after +all, and that Adelaide Stirling might have done better for herself. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +Life cannot stop because tragedy enters it. Meals must be made ready +though a son dies and porches must be repaired even if your only +daughter is going out of her mind. Mrs. Frederick, in her systematic +way, had long ago appointed the second week in June for the repairing +of the front porch, the roof of which was sagging dangerously. Roaring +Abel had been engaged to do it many moons before and Roaring Abel +promptly appeared on the morning of the first day of the second week, +and fell to work. Of course he was drunk. Roaring Abel was never +anything but drunk. But he was only in the first stage, which made him +talkative and genial. The odour of whisky on his breath nearly drove +Mrs. Frederick and Cousin Stickles wild at dinner. Even Valancy, with +all her emancipation, did not like it. But she liked Abel and she liked +his vivid, eloquent talk, and after she washed the dinner dishes she +went out and sat on the steps and talked to him. + +Mrs. Frederick and Cousin Stickles thought it a terrible proceeding, +but what could they do? Valancy only smiled mockingly at them when they +called her in, and did not go. It was so easy to defy once you got +started. The first step was the only one that really counted. They were +both afraid to say anything more to her lest she might make a scene +before Roaring Abel, who would spread it all over the country with his +own characteristic comments and exaggerations. It was too cold a day, +in spite of the June sunshine, for Mrs. Frederick to sit at the +dining-room window and listen to what was said. She had to shut the +window and Valancy and Roaring Abel had their talk to themselves. But +if Mrs. Frederick had known what the outcome of that talk was to be she +would have prevented it, if the porch was never repaired. + +Valancy sat on the steps, defiant of the chill breeze of this cold June +which had made Aunt Isabel aver the seasons were changing. She did not +care whether she caught a cold or not. It was delightful to sit there +in that cold, beautiful, fragrant world and feel free. She filled her +lungs with the clean, lovely wind and held out her arms to it and let +it tear her hair to pieces while she listened to Roaring Abel, who told +her his troubles between intervals of hammering gaily in time to his +Scotch songs. Valancy liked to hear him. Every stroke of his hammer +fell true to the note. + +Old Abel Gay, in spite of his seventy years, was handsome still, in a +stately, patriarchal manner. His tremendous beard, falling down over +his blue flannel shirt, was still a flaming, untouched red, though his +shock of hair was white as snow, and his eyes were a fiery, youthful +blue. His enormous, reddish-white eyebrows were more like moustaches +than eyebrows. Perhaps this was why he always kept his upper lip +scrupulously shaved. His cheeks were red and his nose ought to have +been, but wasn’t. It was a fine, upstanding, aquiline nose, such as the +noblest Roman of them all might have rejoiced in. Abel was six feet two +in his stockings, broad-shouldered, lean-hipped. In his youth he had +been a famous lover, finding all women too charming to bind himself to +one. His years had been a wild, colourful panorama of follies and +adventures, gallantries, fortunes and misfortunes. He had been +forty-five before he married—a pretty slip of a girl whom his goings-on +killed in a few years. Abel was piously drunk at her funeral and +insisted on repeating the fifty-fifth chapter of Isaiah—Abel knew most +of the Bible and all the Psalms by heart—while the minister, whom he +disliked, prayed or tried to pray. Thereafter his house was run by an +untidy old cousin who cooked his meals and kept things going after a +fashion. In this unpromising environment little Cecilia Gay had grown +up. + +Valancy had known “Cissy Gay†fairly well in the democracy of the +public school, though Cissy had been three years younger than she. +After they left school their paths diverged and she had seen nothing of +her. Old Abel was a Presbyterian. That is, he got a Presbyterian +preacher to marry him, baptise his child and bury his wife; and he knew +more about Presbyterian theology than most ministers, which made him a +terror to them in arguments. But Roaring Abel never went to church. +Every Presbyterian minister who had been in Deerwood had tried his +hand—once—at reforming Roaring Abel. But he had not been pestered of +late. Rev. Mr. Bently had been in Deerwood for eight years, but he had +not sought out Roaring Abel since the first three months of his +pastorate. He had called on Roaring Abel then and found him in the +theological stage of drunkenness—which always followed the sentimental +maudlin one, and preceded the roaring, blasphemous one. The eloquently +prayerful one, in which he realised himself temporarily and intensely +as a sinner in the hands of an angry God, was the final one. Abel never +went beyond it. He generally fell asleep on his knees and awakened +sober, but he had never been “dead drunk†in his life. He told Mr. +Bently that he was a sound Presbyterian and sure of his election. He +had no sins—that he knew of—to repent of. + +“Have you never done anything in your life that you are sorry for?†+asked Mr. Bently. + +Roaring Abel scratched his bushy white head and pretended to reflect. +“Well, yes,†he said finally. “There were some women I might have +kissed and didn’t. I’ve always been sorry for _that_.†+ +Mr. Bently went out and went home. + +Abel had seen that Cissy was properly baptised—jovially drunk at the +same time himself. He made her go to church and Sunday School +regularly. The church people took her up and she was in turn a member +of the Mission Band, the Girls’ Guild and the Young Women’s Missionary +Society. She was a faithful, unobtrusive, sincere, little worker. +Everybody liked Cissy Gay and was sorry for her. She was so modest and +sensitive and pretty in that delicate, elusive fashion of beauty which +fades so quickly if life is not kept in it by love and tenderness. But +then liking and pity did not prevent them from tearing her in pieces +like hungry cats when the catastrophe came. Four years previously Cissy +Gay had gone up to a Muskoka hotel as a summer waitress. And when she +had come back in the fall she was a changed creature. She hid herself +away and went nowhere. The reason soon leaked out and scandal raged. +That winter Cissy’s baby was born. Nobody ever knew who the father was. +Cecily kept her poor pale lips tightly locked on her sorry secret. +Nobody dared ask Roaring Abel any questions about it. Rumour and +surmise laid the guilt at Barney Snaith’s door because diligent inquiry +among the other maids at the hotel revealed the fact that nobody there +had ever seen Cissy Gay “with a fellow.†She had “kept herself to +herself†they said, rather resentfully. “Too good for _our_ dances. And +now look!†+ +The baby had lived for a year. After its death Cissy faded away. Two +years ago Dr. Marsh had given her only six months to live—her lungs +were hopelessly diseased. But she was still alive. Nobody went to see +her. Women would not go to Roaring Abel’s house. Mr. Bently had gone +once, when he knew Abel was away, but the dreadful old creature who was +scrubbing the kitchen floor told him Cissy wouldn’t see any one. The +old cousin had died and Roaring Abel had had two or three disreputable +housekeepers—the only kind who could be prevailed on to go to a house +where a girl was dying of consumption. But the last one had left and +Roaring Abel had now no one to wait on Cissy and “do†for him. This was +the burden of his plaint to Valancy and he condemned the “hypocrites†+of Deerwood and its surrounding communities with some rich, meaty oaths +that happened to reach Cousin Stickles’ ears as she passed through the +hall and nearly finished the poor lady. Was Valancy listening to +_that_? + +Valancy hardly noticed the profanity. Her attention was focussed on the +horrible thought of poor, unhappy, disgraced little Cissy Gay, ill and +helpless in that forlorn old house out on the Mistawis road, without a +soul to help or comfort her. And this in a nominally Christian +community in the year of grace nineteen and some odd! + +“Do you mean to say that Cissy is all alone there now, with nobody to +do anything for her—_nobody_?†+ +“Oh, she can move about a bit and get a bite and sup when she wants it. +But she can’t work. It’s d——d hard for a man to work hard all day and +go home at night tired and hungry and cook his own meals. Sometimes I’m +sorry I kicked old Rachel Edwards out.†Abel described Rachel +picturesquely. + +“Her face looked as if it had wore out a hundred bodies. And she moped. +Talk about temper! Temper’s nothing to moping. She was too slow to +catch worms, and dirty—d——d dirty. I ain’t unreasonable—I know a man +has to eat his peck before he dies—but she went over the limit. What +d’ye sp’ose I saw that lady do? She’d made some punkin jam—had it on +the table in glass jars with the tops off. The dawg got up on the table +and stuck his paw into one of them. What did she do? She jest took holt +of the dawg and wrung the syrup off his paw back into the jar! Then +screwed the top on and set it in the pantry. I sets open the door and +says to her, ‘Go!’ The dame went, and I fired the jars of punkin after +her, two at a time. Thought I’d die laughing to see old Rachel run—with +them punkin jars raining after her. She’s told everywhere I’m crazy, so +nobody’ll come for love or money.†+ +“But Cissy _must_ have some one to look after her,†insisted Valancy, +whose mind was centred on this aspect of the case. She did not care +whether Roaring Abel had any one to cook for him or not. But her heart +was wrung for Cecilia Gay. + +“Oh, she gits on. Barney Snaith always drops in when he’s passing and +does anything she wants done. Brings her oranges and flowers and +things. There’s a Christian for you. Yet that sanctimonious, snivelling +parcel of St. Andrew’s people wouldn’t be seen on the same side of the +road with him. Their dogs’ll go to heaven before they do. And their +minister—slick as if the cat had licked him!†+ +“There are plenty of good people, both in St. Andrew’s and St. +George’s, who would be kind to Cissy if you would behave yourself,†+said Valancy severely. “They’re afraid to go near your place.†+ +“Because I’m such a sad old dog? But I don’t bite—never bit any one in +my life. A few loose words spilled around don’t hurt any one. And I’m +not asking people to come. Don’t want ’em poking and prying about. What +I want is a housekeeper. If I shaved every Sunday and went to church +I’d get all the housekeepers I’d want. I’d be respectable then. But +what’s the use of going to church when it’s all settled by +predestination? Tell me that, Miss.†+ +“Is it?†said Valancy. + +“Yes. Can’t git around it nohow. Wish I could. I don’t want either +heaven or hell for steady. Wish a man could have ’em mixed in equal +proportions.†+ +“Isn’t that the way it is in this world?†said Valancy +thoughtfully—but rather as if her thought was concerned with something +else than theology. + +“No, no,†boomed Abel, striking a tremendous blow on a stubborn nail. +“There’s too much hell here—entirely too much hell. That’s why I get +drunk so often. It sets you free for a little while—free from +yourself—yes, by God, free from predestination. Ever try it?†+ +“No, I’ve another way of getting free,†said Valancy absently. “But +about Cissy now. She _must_ have some one to look after her——†+ +“What are you harping on Sis for? Seems to me you ain’t bothered much +about her up to now. You never even come to see her. And she used to +like you so well.†+ +“I should have,†said Valancy. “But never mind. You couldn’t +understand. The point is—you must have a housekeeper.†+ +“Where am I to get one? I can pay decent wages if I could get a decent +woman. D’ye think I like old hags?†+ +“Will I do?†said Valancy. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +“Let us be calm,†said Uncle Benjamin. “Let us be perfectly calm.†+ +“Calm!†Mrs. Frederick wrung her hands. “How can I be calm—how could +anybody be calm under such a disgrace as this?†+ +“Why in the world did you let her go?†asked Uncle James. + +“_Let_ her! How could I stop her, James? It seems she packed the big +valise and sent it away with Roaring Abel when he went home after +supper, while Christine and I were out in the kitchen. Then Doss +herself came down with her little satchel, dressed in her green serge +suit. I felt a terrible premonition. I can’t tell you how it was, but I +seemed to _know_ that Doss was going to do something dreadful.†+ +“It’s a pity you couldn’t have had your premonition a little sooner,†+said Uncle Benjamin drily. + +“I said, ‘Doss, _where are you going_?’ and _she_ said, ‘I am going to +look for my Blue Castle.’†+ +“Wouldn’t you think _that_ would convince Marsh that her mind is +affected?†interjected Uncle James. + +“And _I_ said, ‘Valancy, what _do_ you mean?’ And _she_ said, ‘I am +going to keep house for Roaring Abel and nurse Cissy. He will pay me +thirty dollars a month.’ I wonder I didn’t drop dead on the spot.†+ +“You shouldn’t have let her go—you shouldn’t have let her out of the +house,†said Uncle James. “You should have locked the door—anything——†+ +“She was between me and the front door. And you can’t realise how +determined she was. She was like a rock. That’s the strangest thing of +all about her. She used to be so good and obedient, and now she’s +neither to hold nor bind. But I said _everything_ I could think of to +bring her to her senses. I asked her if she had no regard for her +reputation. I said to her solemnly, ‘Doss, when a woman’s reputation is +once smirched nothing can ever make it spotless again. Your character +will be gone for ever if you go to Roaring Abel’s to wait on a bad girl +like Sis Gay.’ And she said, ‘I don’t believe Cissy was a bad girl, but +I don’t care if she was.’ Those were her very words, ‘I don’t care if +she was.’†+ +“She has lost all sense of decency,†exploded Uncle Benjamin. + +“‘Cissy Gay is dying,’ she said, ‘and it’s a shame and disgrace that +she is dying in a Christian community with no one to do anything for +her. Whatever she’s been or done, she’s a human being.’†+ +“Well, you know, when it comes to that, I suppose she is,†said Uncle +James with the air of one making a splendid concession. + +“I asked Doss if she had no regard for appearances. She said, ‘I’ve +been keeping up appearances all my life. Now I’m going in for +realities. Appearances can go hang!’ Go _hang_!†+ +“An outrageous thing!†said Uncle Benjamin violently. “An outrageous +thing!†+ +Which relieved his feelings, but didn’t help any one else. + +Mrs. Frederick wept. Cousin Stickles took up the refrain between her +moans of despair. + +“I told her—we _both_ told her—that Roaring Abel had certainly killed +his wife in one of his drunken rages and would kill her. She laughed +and said, ‘I’m not afraid of Roaring Abel. He won’t kill _me_, and he’s +too old for me to be afraid of his gallantries.’ What did she mean? +What _are_ gallantries?†+ +Mrs. Frederick saw that she must stop crying if she wanted to regain +control of the conversation. + +“_I_ said to her, ‘Valancy, if you have no regard for your own +reputation and your family’s standing, have you none for _my_ +feelings?’ She said, ‘None.’ Just like that, ‘_None_!’†+ +“Insane people never _do_ have any regard for other people’s feelings,†+said Uncle Benjamin. “That’s one of the symptoms.†+ +“I broke out into tears then, and she said, ‘Come now, Mother, be a +good sport. I’m going to do an act of Christian charity, and as for the +damage it will do my reputation, why, you know I haven’t any +matrimonial chances anyhow, so what does it matter?’ And with that she +turned and went out.†+ +“The last words I said to her,†said Cousin Stickles pathetically, +“were, ‘Who will rub my back at nights now?’ And she said—she said—but +no, I cannot repeat it.†+ +“Nonsense,†said Uncle Benjamin. “Out with it. This is no time to be +squeamish.†+ +“She saidâ€â€”Cousin Stickles’ voice was little more than a whisper—“she +said—‘Oh, _darn_!’†+ +“To think I should have lived to hear my daughter swearing!†sobbed +Mrs. Frederick. + +“It—it was only imitation swearing,†faltered Cousin Stickles, desirous +of smoothing things over now that the worst was out. But she had +_never_ told about the bannister. + +“It will be only a step from that to real swearing,†said Uncle James +sternly. + +“The worst of thisâ€â€”Mrs. Frederick hunted for a dry spot on her +handkerchief—“is that every one will know now that she is deranged. We +can’t keep it a secret any longer. Oh, I cannot bear it!†+ +“You should have been stricter with her when she was young,†said Uncle +Benjamin. + +“I don’t see how I could have been,†said Mrs. Frederick—truthfully +enough. + +“The worst feature of the case is that Snaith scoundrel is always +hanging around Roaring Abel’s,†said Uncle James. “I shall be thankful +if nothing worse comes of this mad freak than a few weeks at Roaring +Abel’s. Cissy Gay _can’t_ live much longer.†+ +“And she didn’t even take her flannel petticoat!†lamented Cousin +Stickles. + +“I’ll see Ambrose Marsh again about this,†said Uncle Benjamin—meaning +Valancy, not the flannel petticoat. + +“I’ll see Lawyer Ferguson,†said Uncle James. + +“Meanwhile,†added Uncle Benjamin, “let us be calm.†+ + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +Valancy had walked out to Roaring Abel’s house on the Mistawis road +under a sky of purple and amber, with a queer exhilaration and +expectancy in her heart. Back there, behind her, her mother and Cousin +Stickles were crying—over themselves, not over her. But here the wind +was in her face, soft, dew-wet, cool, blowing along the grassy roads. +Oh, she loved the wind! The robins were whistling sleepily in the firs +along the way and the moist air was fragrant with the tang of balsam. +Big cars went purring past in the violet dusk—the stream of summer +tourists to Muskoka had already begun—but Valancy did not envy any of +their occupants. Muskoka cottages might be charming, but beyond, in the +sunset skies, among the spires of the firs, her Blue Castle towered. +She brushed the old years and habits and inhibitions away from her like +dead leaves. She would not be littered with them. + +Roaring Abel’s rambling, tumble-down old house was situated about three +miles from the village, on the very edge of “up back,†as the sparsely +settled, hilly, wooded country around Mistawis was called vernacularly. +It did not, it must be confessed, look much like a Blue Castle. + +It had once been a snug place enough in the days when Abel Gay had been +young and prosperous, and the punning, arched sign over the gate—“A. +Gay, Carpenter,†had been fine and freshly painted. Now it was a faded, +dreary old place, with a leprous, patched roof and shutters hanging +askew. Abel never seemed to do any carpenter jobs about his own house. +It had a listless air, as if tired of life. There was a dwindling grove +of ragged, crone-like old spruces behind it. The garden, which Cissy +used to keep neat and pretty, had run wild. On two sides of the house +were fields full of nothing but mulleins. Behind the house was a long +stretch of useless barrens, full of scrub pines and spruces, with here +and there a blossoming bit of wild cherry, running back to a belt of +timber on the shores of Lake Mistawis, two miles away. A rough, rocky, +boulder-strewn lane ran through it to the woods—a lane white with +pestiferous, beautiful daisies. + +Roaring Abel met Valancy at the door. + +“So you’ve come,†he said incredulously. “I never s’posed that ruck of +Stirlings would let you.†+ +Valancy showed all her pointed teeth in a grin. + +“They couldn’t stop me.†+ +“I didn’t think you’d so much spunk,†said Roaring Abel admiringly. +“And look at the nice ankles of her,†he added, as he stepped aside to +let her in. + +If Cousin Stickles had heard this she would have been certain that +Valancy’s doom, earthly and unearthly, was sealed. But Abel’s +superannuated gallantry did not worry Valancy. Besides, this was the +first compliment she had ever received in her life and she found +herself liking it. She sometimes suspected she had nice ankles, but +nobody had ever mentioned it before. In the Stirling clan ankles were +among the unmentionables. + +Roaring Abel took her into the kitchen, where Cissy Gay was lying on +the sofa, breathing quickly, with little scarlet spots on her hollow +cheeks. Valancy had not seen Cecilia Gay for years. Then she had been +such a pretty creature, a slight, blossom-like girl, with soft, golden +hair, clear-cut, almost waxen features, and large, beautiful blue eyes. +She was shocked at the change in her. Could this be sweet Cissy—this +pitiful little thing that looked like a tired, broken flower? She had +wept all the beauty out of her eyes; they looked too big—enormous—in +her wasted face. The last time Valancy had seen Cecilia Gay those +faded, piteous eyes had been limpid, shadowy blue pools aglow with +mirth. The contrast was so terrible that Valancy’s own eyes filled with +tears. She knelt down by Cissy and put her arms about her. + +“Cissy dear, I’ve come to look after you. I’ll stay with you +till—till—as long as you want me.†+ +“Oh!†Cissy put her thin arms about Valancy’s neck. “Oh—_will_ you? +It’s been so—lonely. I can wait on myself—but it’s been so _lonely_. +It—would just be like—heaven—to have some one here—like you. You were +always—so sweet to me—long ago.†+ +Valancy held Cissy close. She was suddenly happy. Here was some one who +needed her—some one she could help. She was no longer a superfluity. +Old things had passed away; everything had become new. + +“Most things are predestinated, but some are just darn sheer luck,†+said Roaring Abel, complacently smoking his pipe in the corner. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +When Valancy had lived for a week at Roaring Abel’s she felt as if +years had separated her from her old life and all the people she had +known in it. They were beginning to seem remote—dream-like—far-away—and +as the days went on they seemed still more so, until they ceased to +matter altogether. + +She was happy. Nobody ever bothered her with conundrums or insisted on +giving her Purple Pills. Nobody called her Doss or worried her about +catching cold. There were no quilts to piece, no abominable +rubber-plant to water, no ice-cold maternal tantrums to endure. She +could be alone whenever she liked, go to bed when she liked, sneeze +when she liked. In the long, wondrous, northern twilights, when Cissy +was asleep and Roaring Abel away, she could sit for hours on the shaky +back verandah steps, looking out over the barrens to the hills beyond, +covered with their fine, purple bloom, listening to the friendly wind +singing wild, sweet melodies in the little spruces, and drinking in the +aroma of the sunned grasses, until darkness flowed over the landscape +like a cool, welcome wave. + +Sometimes of an afternoon, when Cissy was strong enough, the two girls +went into the barrens and looked at the wood-flowers. But they did not +pick any. Valancy had read to Cissy the gospel thereof according to +John Foster: “It is a pity to gather wood-flowers. They lose half their +witchery away from the green and the flicker. The way to enjoy +wood-flowers is to track them down to their remote haunts—gloat over +them—and then leave them with backward glances, taking with us only the +beguiling memory of their grace and fragrance.†+ +Valancy was in the midst of realities after a lifetime of unrealities. +And busy—very busy. The house had to be cleaned. Not for nothing had +Valancy been brought up in the Stirling habits of neatness and +cleanliness. If she found satisfaction in cleaning dirty rooms she got +her fill of it there. Roaring Abel thought she was foolish to bother +doing so much more than she was asked to do, but he did not interfere +with her. He was very well satisfied with his bargain. Valancy was a +good cook. Abel said she got a flavour into things. The only fault he +found with her was that she did not sing at her work. + +“Folks should always sing at their work,†he insisted. “Sounds +cheerful-like.†+ +“Not always,†retorted Valancy. “Fancy a butcher singing at his work. +Or an undertaker.†+ +Abel burst into his great broad laugh. + +“There’s no getting the better of you. You’ve got an answer every time. +I should think the Stirlings would be glad to be rid of you. _They_ +don’t like being sassed back.†+ +During the day Abel was generally away from home—if not working, then +shooting or fishing with Barney Snaith. He generally came home at +nights—always very late and often very drunk. The first night they +heard him come howling into the yard, Cissy had told Valancy not to be +afraid. + +“Father never does anything—he just makes a noise.†+ +Valancy, lying on the sofa in Cissy’s room, where she had elected to +sleep, lest Cissy should need attention in the night—Cissy would never +have called her—was not at all afraid, and said so. By the time Abel +had got his horses put away, the roaring stage had passed and he was in +his room at the end of the hall crying and praying. Valancy could still +hear his dismal moans when she went calmly to sleep. For the most part, +Abel was a good-natured creature, but occasionally he had a temper. +Once Valancy asked him coolly: + +“What is the use of getting in a rage?†+ +“It’s such a d——d relief,†said Abel. + +They both burst out laughing together. + +“You’re a great little sport,†said Abel admiringly. “Don’t mind my bad +French. I don’t mean a thing by it. Jest habit. Say, I like a woman +that ain’t afraid to speak up to me. Sis there was always too meek—too +meek. That’s why she got adrift. I like you.†+ +“All the same,†said Valancy determinedly, “there is no use in sending +things to hell as you’re always doing. And I’m _not_ going to have you +tracking mud all over a floor I’ve just scrubbed. You _must_ use the +scraper whether you consign it to perdition or not.†+ +Cissy loved the cleanness and neatness. She had kept it so, too, until +her strength failed. She was very pitifully happy because she had +Valancy with her. It had been so terrible—the long, lonely days and +nights with no companionship save those dreadful old women who came to +work. Cissy had hated and feared them. She clung to Valancy like a +child. + +There was no doubt that Cissy was dying. Yet at no time did she seem +alarmingly ill. She did not even cough a great deal. Most days she was +able to get up and dress—sometimes even to work about in the garden or +the barrens for an hour or two. For a few weeks after Valancy’s coming +she seemed so much better that Valancy began to hope she might get +well. But Cissy shook her head. + +“No, I can’t get well. My lungs are almost gone. And I—don’t want to. +I’m so tired, Valancy. Only dying can rest me. But it’s lovely to have +you here—you’ll never know how much it means to me. But Valancy—you +work too hard. You don’t need to—Father only wants his meals cooked. I +don’t think you are strong yourself. You turn so pale sometimes. And +those drops you take. _Are_ you well, dear?†+ +“I’m all right,†said Valancy lightly. She would not have Cissy +worried. “And I’m not working hard. I’m glad to have some work to +do—something that really wants to be done.†+ +“Thenâ€â€”Cissy slipped her hand wistfully into Valancy’s—“don’t let’s +talk any more about my being sick. Let’s just forget it. Let’s pretend +I’m a little girl again—and you have come here to play with me. I used +to wish that long ago—wish that you could come. I knew you couldn’t, of +course. But how I did wish it! You always seemed so different from the +other girls—so kind and sweet—and as if you had something in yourself +nobody knew about—some dear, pretty secret. _Had_ you, Valancy?†+ +“I had my Blue Castle,†said Valancy, laughing a little. She was +pleased that Cissy had thought of her like this. She had never +suspected that anybody liked or admired or wondered about her. She told +Cissy all about her Blue Castle. She had never told any one about it +before. + +“Every one has a Blue Castle, I think,†said Cissy softly. “Only every +one has a different name for it. _I_ had mine—once.†+ +She put her two thin little hands over her face. She did not tell +Valancy—then—who had destroyed her Blue Castle. But Valancy knew that, +whoever it was, it was not Barney Snaith. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +Valancy was acquainted with Barney by now—well acquainted, it seemed, +though she had spoken to him only a few times. But then she had felt +just as well acquainted with him the first time they had met. She had +been in the garden at twilight, hunting for a few stalks of white +narcissus for Cissy’s room when she heard that terrible old Grey +Slosson coming down through the woods from Mistawis—one could hear it +miles away. Valancy did not look up as it drew near, thumping over the +rocks in that crazy lane. She had never looked up, though Barney had +gone racketting past every evening since she had been at Roaring +Abel’s. This time he did not racket past. The old Grey Slosson stopped +with even more terrible noises than it made going. Valancy was +conscious that Barney had sprung from it and was leaning over the +ramshackle gate. She suddenly straightened up and looked into his face. +Their eyes met—Valancy was suddenly conscious of a delicious weakness. +Was one of her heart attacks coming on?—But this was a new symptom. + +His eyes, which she had always thought brown, now seen close, were deep +violet—translucent and intense. Neither of his eyebrows looked like the +other. He was thin—too thin—she wished she could feed him up a bit—she +wished she could sew the buttons on his coat—and make him cut his +hair—and shave every day. There was _something_ in his face—one hardly +knew what it was. Tiredness? Sadness? Disillusionment? He had dimples +in his thin cheeks when he smiled. All these thoughts flashed through +Valancy’s mind in that one moment while his eyes looked into hers. + +“Good-evening, Miss Stirling.†+ +Nothing could be more commonplace and conventional. Any one might have +said it. But Barney Snaith had a way of saying things that gave them +poignancy. When he said good-evening you felt that it _was_ a good +evening and that it was partly his doing that it was. Also, you felt +that some of the credit was yours. Valancy felt all this vaguely, but +she couldn’t imagine why she was trembling from head to foot—it _must_ +be her heart. If only he didn’t notice it! + +“I’m going over to the Port,†Barney was saying. “Can I acquire merit +by getting or doing anything there for you or Cissy?†+ +“Will you get some salt codfish for us?†said Valancy. It was the only +thing she could think of. Roaring Abel had expressed a desire that day +for a dinner of boiled salt codfish. When her knights came riding to +the Blue Castle, Valancy had sent them on many a quest, but she had +never asked any of them to get her salt codfish. + +“Certainly. You’re sure there’s nothing else? Lots of room in Lady Jane +Grey Slosson. And she always gets back _some_ time, does Lady Jane.†+ +“I don’t think there’s anything more,†said Valancy. She knew he would +bring oranges for Cissy anyhow—he always did. + +Barney did not turn away at once. He was silent for a little. Then he +said, slowly and whimsically: + +“Miss Stirling, you’re a brick! You’re a whole cartload of bricks. To +come here and look after Cissy—under the circumstances.†+ +“There’s nothing so bricky about that,†said Valancy. “I’d nothing else +to do. And—I like it here. I don’t feel as if I’d done anything +specially meritorious. Mr. Gay is paying me fair wages. I never earned +any money before—and I like it.†It seemed so easy to talk to Barney +Snaith, someway—this terrible Barney Snaith of the lurid tales and +mysterious past—as easy and natural as if talking to herself. + +“All the money in the world couldn’t buy what you’re doing for Cissy +Gay,†said Barney. “It’s splendid and fine of you. And if there’s +anything I can do to help you in any way, you have only to let me know. +If Roaring Abel ever tries to annoy you——†+ +“He doesn’t. He’s lovely to me. I like Roaring Abel,†said Valancy +frankly. + +“So do I. But there’s one stage of his drunkenness—perhaps you haven’t +encountered it yet—when he sings ribald songs——†+ +“Oh, yes. He came home last night like that. Cissy and I just went to +our room and shut ourselves in where we couldn’t hear him. He +apologised this morning. I’m not afraid of any of Roaring Abel’s +stages.†+ +“Well, I’m sure he’ll be decent to you, apart from his inebriated +yowls,†said Barney. “And I’ve told him he’s got to stop damning things +when you’re around.†+ +“Why?†asked Valancy slily, with one of her odd, slanted glances and a +sudden flake of pink on each cheek, born of the thought that Barney +Snaith had actually done so much for _her_. “I often feel like damning +things myself.†+ +For a moment Barney stared. Was this elfin girl the little, old-maidish +creature who had stood there two minutes ago? Surely there was magic +and devilry going on in that shabby, weedy old garden. + +Then he laughed. + +“It will be a relief to have some one to do it for you, then. So you +don’t want anything but salt codfish?†+ +“Not tonight. But I dare say I’ll have some errands for you very often +when you go to Port Lawrence. I can’t trust Mr. Gay to remember to +bring all the things I want.†+ +Barney had gone away, then, in his Lady Jane, and Valancy stood in the +garden for a long time. + +Since then he had called several times, walking down through the +barrens, whistling. How that whistle of his echoed through the spruces +on those June twilights! Valancy caught herself listening for it every +evening—rebuked herself—then let herself go. Why shouldn’t she listen +for it? + +He always brought Cissy fruit and flowers. Once he brought Valancy a +box of candy—the first box of candy she had ever been given. It seemed +sacrilege to eat it. + +She found herself thinking of him in season and out of season. She +wanted to know if he ever thought about her when she wasn’t before his +eyes, and, if so, what. She wanted to see that mysterious house of his +back on the Mistawis island. Cissy had never seen it. Cissy, though she +talked freely of Barney and had known him for five years, really knew +little more of him than Valancy herself. + +“But he isn’t bad,†said Cissy. “Nobody need ever tell me he is. He +_can’t_ have done a thing to be ashamed of.†+ +“Then why does he live as he does?†asked Valancy—to hear somebody +defend him. + +“I don’t know. He’s a mystery. And of course there’s something behind +it, but I _know_ it isn’t disgrace. Barney Snaith simply couldn’t do +anything disgraceful, Valancy.†+ +Valancy was not so sure. Barney must have done _something_—sometime. He +was a man of education and intelligence. She had soon discovered that, +in listening to his conversations and wrangles with Roaring Abel—who +was surprisingly well read and could discuss any subject under the sun +when sober. Such a man wouldn’t bury himself for five years in Muskoka +and live and look like a tramp if there were not too good—or bad—a +reason for it. But it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that she was +sure now that he had never been Cissy Gay’s lover. There was nothing +like _that_ between them. Though he was very fond of Cissy and she of +him, as any one could see. But it was a fondness that didn’t worry +Valancy. + +“You don’t know what Barney has been to me, these past two years,†+Cissy had said simply. “_Everything_ would have been unbearable without +him.†+ +“Cissy Gay is the sweetest girl I ever knew—and there’s a man somewhere +I’d like to shoot if I could find him,†Barney had said savagely. + +Barney was an interesting talker, with a knack of telling a great deal +about his adventures and nothing at all about himself. There was one +glorious rainy day when Barney and Abel swapped yarns all the afternoon +while Valancy mended tablecloths and listened. Barney told weird tales +of his adventures with “shacks†on trains while hoboing it across the +continent. Valancy thought she ought to think his stealing rides quite +dreadful, but didn’t. The story of his working his way to England on a +cattle-ship sounded more legitimate. And his yarns of the Yukon +enthralled her—especially the one of the night he was lost on the +divide between Gold Run and Sulphur Valley. He had spent two years out +there. Where in all this was there room for the penitentiary and the +other things? + +If he were telling the truth. But Valancy knew he was. + +“Found no gold,†he said. “Came away poorer than when I went. But such +a place to live! Those silences at the back of the north wind _got_ me. +I’ve never belonged to myself since.†+ +Yet he was not a great talker. He told a great deal in a few +well-chosen words—how well-chosen Valancy did not realise. And he had a +knack of saying things without opening his mouth at all. + +“I like a man whose eyes say more than his lips,†thought Valancy. + +But then she liked everything about him—his tawny hair—his whimsical +smiles—the little glints of fun in his eyes—his loyal affection for +that unspeakable Lady Jane—his habit of sitting with his hands in his +pockets, his chin sunk on his breast, looking up from under his +mismated eyebrows. She liked his nice voice which sounded as if it +might become caressing or wooing with very little provocation. She was +at times almost afraid to let herself think these thoughts. They were +so vivid that she felt as if the others _must_ know what she was +thinking. + +“I’ve been watching a woodpecker all day,†he said one evening on the +shaky old back verandah. His account of the woodpecker’s doings was +satisfying. He had often some gay or cunning little anecdote of the +wood folk to tell them. And sometimes he and Roaring Abel smoked +fiercely the whole evening and never said a word, while Cissy lay in +the hammock swung between the verandah posts and Valancy sat idly on +the steps, her hands clasped over her knees, and wondered dreamily if +she were really Valancy Stirling and if it were only three weeks since +she had left the ugly old house on Elm Street. + +The barrens lay before her in a white moon splendour, where dozens of +little rabbits frisked. Barney, when he liked, could sit down on the +edge of the barrens and lure those rabbits right to him by some +mysterious sorcery he possessed. Valancy had once seen a squirrel leap +from a scrub pine to his shoulder and sit there chattering to him. It +reminded her of John Foster. + +It was one of the delights of Valancy’s new life that she could read +John Foster’s books as often and as long as she liked. She could read +them in bed if she wanted to. She read them all to Cissy, who loved +them. She also tried to read them to Abel and Barney, who did not love +them. Abel was bored and Barney politely refused to listen at all. + +“Piffle,†said Barney. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + + +Of course, the Stirlings had not left the poor maniac alone all this +time or refrained from heroic efforts to rescue her perishing soul and +reputation. Uncle James, whose lawyer had helped him as little as his +doctor, came one day and, finding Valancy alone in the kitchen, as he +supposed, gave her a terrible talking-to—told her she was breaking her +mother’s heart and disgracing her family. + +“But _why_?†said Valancy, not ceasing to scour her porridge pot +decently. “I’m doing honest work for honest pay. What is there in that +that is disgraceful?†+ +“Don’t quibble, Valancy,†said Uncle James solemnly. “This is no fit +place for you to be, and you know it. Why, I’m told that jail-bird, +Snaith, is hanging around here every evening.†+ +“Not _every_ evening,†said Valancy reflectively. “No, not quite every +evening.†+ +“It’s—it’s insufferable!†said Uncle James violently. “Valancy, you +_must_ come home. We won’t judge you harshly. I assure you we won’t. +We will overlook all this.†+ +“Thank you,†said Valancy. + +“Have you no sense of shame?†demanded Uncle James. + +“Oh, yes. But the things _I_ am ashamed of are not the things _you_ are +ashamed of.†Valancy proceeded to rinse her dishcloth meticulously. + +Still was Uncle James patient. He gripped the sides of his chair and +ground his teeth. + +“We know your mind isn’t just right. We’ll make allowances. But you +_must_ come home. You shall not stay here with that drunken, +blasphemous old scoundrel——†+ +“Were you by any chance referring to _me_, _Mister_ Stirling?†demanded +Roaring Abel, suddenly appearing in the doorway of the back verandah +where he had been smoking a peaceful pipe and listening to “old Jim +Stirling’s†tirade with huge enjoyment! His red beard fairly bristled +with indignation and his huge eyebrows quivered. But cowardice was not +among James Stirling’s shortcomings. + +“I was. And, furthermore, I want to tell you that you have acted an +iniquitous part in luring this weak and unfortunate girl away from her +home and friends, and I will have you punished yet for it——†+ +James Stirling got no further. Roaring Abel crossed the kitchen at a +bound, caught him by his collar and his trousers, and hurled him +through the doorway and over the garden paling with as little apparent +effort as he might have employed in whisking a troublesome kitten out +of the way. + +“The next time you come back here,†he bellowed, “I’ll throw you +through the window—and all the better if the window is shut! Coming +here, thinking yourself God to put the world to rights!†+ +Valancy candidly and unashamedly owned to herself that she had seen few +more satisfying sights than Uncle James’ coat-tails flying out into the +asparagus bed. She had once been afraid of this man’s judgment. Now she +saw clearly that he was nothing but a rather stupid little village +tin-god. + +Roaring Abel turned with his great broad laugh. + +“He’ll think of that for years when he wakes up in the night. The +Almighty made a mistake in making so many Stirlings. But since they are +made, we’ve got to reckon with them. Too many to kill out. But if they +come here bothering you I’ll shoo ’em off before a cat could lick its +ear.†+ +The next time they sent Dr. Stalling. Surely Roaring Abel would not +throw him into asparagus beds. Dr. Stalling was not so sure of this and +had no great liking for the task. He did not believe Valancy Stirling +was out of her mind. She had always been queer. He, Dr. Stalling, had +never been able to understand her. Therefore, beyond doubt, she was +queer. She was only just a little queerer than usual now. And Dr. +Stalling had his own reasons for disliking Roaring Abel. When Dr. +Stalling had first come to Deerwood he had had a liking for long hikes +around Mistawis and Muskoka. On one of these occasions he had got lost +and after much wandering had fallen in with Roaring Abel with his gun +over his shoulder. + +Dr. Stalling had contrived to ask his question in about the most +idiotic manner possible. He said, “Can you tell me where I’m going?†+ +“How the devil should I know where you’re going, gosling?†retorted +Abel contemptuously. + +Dr. Stalling was so enraged that he could not speak for a moment or two +and in that moment Abel had disappeared in the woods. Dr. Stalling had +eventually found his way home, but he had never hankered to encounter +Abel Gay again. + +Nevertheless he came now to do his duty. Valancy greeted him with a +sinking heart. She had to own to herself that she was terribly afraid +of Dr. Stalling still. She had a miserable conviction that if he shook +his long, bony finger at her and told her to go home, she dared not +disobey. + +“Mr. Gay,†said Dr. Stalling politely and condescendingly, “may I see +Miss Stirling alone for a few minutes?†+ +Roaring Abel was a little drunk—just drunk enough to be excessively +polite and very cunning. He had been on the point of going away when +Dr. Stalling arrived, but now he sat down in a corner of the parlour +and folded his arms. + +“No, no, mister,†he said solemnly. “That wouldn’t do—wouldn’t do at +all. I’ve got the reputation of my household to keep up. I’ve got to +chaperone this young lady. Can’t have any sparkin’ going on here behind +my back.†+ +Outraged Dr. Stalling looked so terrible that Valancy wondered how Abel +could endure his aspect. But Abel was not worried at all. + +“D’ye know anything about it, anyway?†he asked genially. + +“About _what_?†+ +“Sparking,†said Abel coolly. + +Poor Dr. Stalling, who had never married because he believed in a +celibate clergy, would not notice this ribald remark. He turned his +back on Abel and addressed himself to Valancy. + +“Miss Stirling, I am here in response to your mother’s wishes. She +begged me to come. I am charged with some messages from her. Will +youâ€â€”he wagged his forefinger—“will you hear them?†+ +“Yes,†said Valancy faintly, eyeing the forefinger. It had a hypnotic +effect on her. + +“The first is this. If you will leave this—this——†+ +“House,†interjected Roaring Abel. “H-o-u-s-e. Troubled with an +impediment in your speech, ain’t you, Mister?†+ +“—this _place_ and return to your home, Mr. James Stirling will himself +pay for a good nurse to come here and wait on Miss Gay.†+ +Back of her terror Valancy smiled in secret. Uncle James must indeed +regard the matter as desperate when he would loosen his purse-strings +like that. At any rate, her clan no longer despised her or ignored her. +She had become important to them. + +“That’s _my_ business, Mister,†said Abel. “Miss Stirling can go if she +pleases, or stay if she pleases. I made a fair bargain with her, and +she’s free to conclude it when she likes. She gives me meals that stick +to my ribs. She don’t forget to put salt in the porridge. She never +slams doors, and when she has nothing to say she don’t talk. That’s +uncanny in a woman, you know, Mister. I’m satisfied. If she isn’t, +she’s free to go. But no woman comes here in Jim Stirling’s pay. If any +one doesâ€â€”Abel’s voice was uncannily bland and polite—“I’ll spatter the +road with her brains. Tell him that with A. Gay’s compliments.†+ +“Dr. Stalling, a nurse is not what Cissy needs,†said Valancy +earnestly. “She isn’t so ill as that, yet. What she wants is +companionship—somebody she knows and likes just to live with her. You +can understand that, I’m sure.†+ +“I understand that your motive is quite—ahem—commendable.†Dr. Stalling +felt that he was very broad-minded indeed—especially as in his secret +soul he did not believe Valancy’s motive _was_ commendable. He hadn’t +the least idea what she was up to, but he was sure her motive was not +commendable. When he could not understand a thing he straightway +condemned it. Simplicity itself! “But your first duty is to your +mother. _She_ needs you. She implores you to come home—she will forgive +everything if you will only come home.†+ +“That’s a pretty little thought,†remarked Abel meditatively, as he +ground some tobacco up in his hand. + +Dr. Stalling ignored him. + +“She entreats, but I, Miss Stirling,â€â€”Dr. Stalling remembered that he +was an ambassador of Jehovah—“_I command_. As your pastor and spiritual +guide, I command you to come home with me—this very day. Get your hat +and coat and come _now_.†+ +Dr. Stalling shook his finger at Valancy. Before that pitiless finger +she drooped and wilted visibly. + +“She’s giving in,†thought Roaring Abel. “She’ll go with him. Beats +all, the power these preacher fellows have over women.†+ +Valancy _was_ on the point of obeying Dr. Stalling. She must go home +with him—and give up. She would lapse back to Doss Stirling again and +for her few remaining days or weeks be the cowed, futile creature she +had always been. It was her fate—typified by that relentless, uplifted +forefinger. She could no more escape from it than Roaring Abel from his +predestination. She eyed it as the fascinated bird eyes the snake. +Another moment— + +“_Fear is the original sin_,†suddenly said a still, small voice away +back—back—back of Valancy’s consciousness. “_Almost all the evil in the +world has its origin in the fact that some one is afraid of +something_.†+ +Valancy stood up. She was still in the clutches of fear, but her soul +was her own again. She would not be false to that inner voice. + +“Dr. Stalling,†she said slowly, “I do not at present owe _any_ duty to +my mother. She is quite well; she has all the assistance and +companionship she requires; she does not need me at all. I _am_ needed +here. I am going to stay here.†+ +“There’s spunk for you,†said Roaring Abel admiringly. + +Dr. Stalling dropped his forefinger. One could not keep on shaking a +finger forever. + +“Miss Stirling, is there _nothing_ that can influence you? Do you +remember your childhood days——†+ +“Perfectly. And hate them.†+ +“Do you realise what people will say? What they _are_ saying?†+ +“I can imagine it,†said Valancy, with a shrug of her shoulders. She +was suddenly free of fear again. “I haven’t listened to the gossip of +Deerwood teaparties and sewing circles twenty years for nothing. But, +Dr. Stalling, it doesn’t matter in the least to me what they say—not in +the least.†+ +Dr. Stalling went away then. A girl who cared nothing for public +opinion! Over whom sacred family ties had no restraining influence! Who +hated her childhood memories! + +Then Cousin Georgiana came—on her own initiative, for nobody would have +thought it worth while to send her. She found Valancy alone, weeding +the little vegetable garden she had planted, and she made all the +platitudinous pleas she could think of. Valancy heard her patiently. +Cousin Georgiana wasn’t such a bad old soul. Then she said: + +“And now that you have got all that out of your system, Cousin +Georgiana, can you tell me how to make creamed codfish so that it will +not be as thick as porridge and as salt as the Dead Sea?†+ +* * * * * * * + +“We’ll just have to _wait_,†said Uncle Benjamin. “After all, Cissy Gay +can’t live long. Dr. Marsh tells me she may drop off any day.†+ +Mrs. Frederick wept. It would really have been so much easier to bear +if Valancy had died. She could have worn mourning then. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + + +When Abel Gay paid Valancy her first month’s wages—which he did +promptly, in bills reeking with the odour of tobacco and +whiskey—Valancy went into Deerwood and spent every cent of it. She got +a pretty green crêpe dress with a girdle of crimson beads, at a bargain +sale, a pair of silk stockings, to match, and a little crinkled green +hat with a crimson rose in it. She even bought a foolish little +beribboned and belaced nightgown. + +She passed the house on Elm Street twice—Valancy never even thought +about it as “homeâ€â€”but saw no one. No doubt her mother was sitting in +the room this lovely June evening playing solitaire—and cheating. +Valancy knew that Mrs. Frederick always cheated. She never lost a game. +Most of the people Valancy met looked at her seriously and passed her +with a cool nod. Nobody stopped to speak to her. + +Valancy put on her green dress when she got home. Then she took it off +again. She felt so miserably undressed in its low neck and short +sleeves. And that low, crimson girdle around the hips seemed positively +indecent. She hung it up in the closet, feeling flatly that she had +wasted her money. She would never have the courage to wear that dress. +John Foster’s arraignment of fear had no power to stiffen her against +this. In this one thing habit and custom were still all-powerful. Yet +she sighed as she went down to meet Barney Snaith in her old +snuff-brown silk. That green thing had been very becoming—she had seen +so much in her one ashamed glance. Above it her eyes had looked like +odd brown jewels and the girdle had given her flat figure an entirely +different appearance. She wished she could have left it on. But there +were some things John Foster did not know. + +Every Sunday evening Valancy went to the little Free Methodist church +in a valley on the edge of “up backâ€â€”a spireless little grey building +among the pines, with a few sunken graves and mossy gravestones in the +small, paling-encircled, grass-grown square beside it. She liked the +minister who preached there. He was so simple and sincere. An old man, +who lived in Port Lawrence and came out by the lake in a little +disappearing propeller boat to give a free service to the people of the +small, stony farms back of the hills, who would otherwise never have +heard any gospel message. She liked the simple service and the fervent +singing. She liked to sit by the open window and look out into the pine +woods. The congregation was always small. The Free Methodists were few +in number, poor and generally illiterate. But Valancy loved those +Sunday evenings. For the first time in her life she liked going to +church. The rumour reached Deerwood that she had “turned Free +Methodist†and sent Mrs. Frederick to bed for a day. But Valancy had +not turned anything. She went to the church because she liked it and +because in some inexplicable way it did her good. Old Mr. Towers +believed exactly what he preached and somehow it made a tremendous +difference. + +Oddly enough, Roaring Abel disapproved of her going to the hill church +as strongly as Mrs. Frederick herself could have done. He had “no use +for Free Methodists. He was a Presbyterian.†But Valancy went in spite +of him. + +“We’ll hear something worse than _that_ about her soon,†Uncle Benjamin +predicted gloomily. + +They did. + +Valancy could not quite explain, even to herself, just why she wanted +to go to that party. It was a dance “up back†at Chidley Corners; and +dances at Chidley Corners were not, as a rule, the sort of assemblies +where well-brought-up young ladies were found. Valancy knew it was +coming off, for Roaring Abel had been engaged as one of the fiddlers. + +But the idea of going had never occurred to her until Roaring Abel +himself broached it at supper. + +“You come with me to the dance,†he ordered. “It’ll do you good—put +some colour in your face. You look peaked—you want something to liven +you up.†+ +Valancy found herself suddenly wanting to go. She knew nothing at all +of what dances at Chidley Corners were apt to be like. Her idea of +dances had been fashioned on the correct affairs that went by that name +in Deerwood and Port Lawrence. Of course she knew the Corners’ dance +wouldn’t be just like them. Much more informal, of course. But so much +the more interesting. Why shouldn’t she go? Cissy was in a week of +apparent health and improvement. She wouldn’t mind staying alone in the +least. She entreated Valancy to go if she wanted to. And Valancy _did_ +want to go. + +She went to her room to dress. A rage against the snuff-brown silk +seized her. Wear that to a party! Never. She pulled her green crêpe +from its hanger and put it on feverishly. It was nonsense to feel +so—so—naked—just because her neck and arms were bare. That was just her +old maidishness. She would not be ridden by it. On went the dress—the +slippers. + +It was the first time she had worn a pretty dress since the organdies +of her early teens. And _they_ had never made her look like this. + +If she only had a necklace or something. She wouldn’t feel so bare +then. She ran down to the garden. There were clovers there—great +crimson things growing in the long grass. Valancy gathered handfuls of +them and strung them on a cord. Fastened above her neck they gave her +the comfortable sensation of a collar and were oddly becoming. Another +circlet of them went round her hair, dressed in the low puffs that +became her. Excitement brought those faint pink stains to her face. She +flung on her coat and pulled the little, twisty hat over her hair. + +“You look so nice and—and—different, dear,†said Cissy. “Like a green +moonbeam with a gleam of red in it, if there could be such a thing.†+ +Valancy stooped to kiss her. + +“I don’t feel right about leaving you alone, Cissy.†+ +“Oh, I’ll be all right. I feel better tonight than I have for a long +while. I’ve been feeling badly to see you sticking here so closely on +my account. I hope you’ll have a nice time. I never was at a party at +the Corners, but I used to go sometimes, long ago, to dances up back. +We always had good times. And you needn’t be afraid of Father being +drunk tonight. He never drinks when he engages to play for a party. +But—there may be—liquor. What will you do if it gets rough?†+ +“Nobody would molest me.†+ +“Not seriously, I suppose. Father would see to that. But it _might_ be +noisy and—and unpleasant.†+ +“I won’t mind. I’m only going as a looker-on. I don’t expect to dance. +I just want to _see_ what a party up back is like. I’ve never seen +anything except decorous Deerwood.†+ +Cissy smiled rather dubiously. She knew much better than Valancy what a +party “up back†might be like if there should be liquor. But again +there mightn’t be. + +“I hope you’ll enjoy it, dear,†she repeated. + +Valancy enjoyed the drive there. They went early, for it was twelve +miles to Chidley Corners, and they had to go in Abel’s old, ragged +top-buggy. The road was rough and rocky, like most Muskoka roads, but +full of the austere charm of northern woods. It wound through +beautiful, purring pines that were ranks of enchantment in the June +sunset, and over the curious jade-green rivers of Muskoka, fringed by +aspens that were always quivering with some supernal joy. + +Roaring Abel was excellent company, too. He knew all the stories and +legends of the wild, beautiful “up back,†and he told them to Valancy +as they drove along. Valancy had several fits of inward laughter over +what Uncle Benjamin and Aunt Wellington, _et al._, would feel and think +and say if they saw her driving with Roaring Abel in that terrible +buggy to a dance at Chidley Corners. + +At first the dance was quiet enough, and Valancy was amused and +entertained. She even danced twice herself, with a couple of nice “up +back†boys who danced beautifully and told her she did, too. + +Another compliment came her way—not a very subtle one, perhaps, but +Valancy had had too few compliments in her life to be over-nice on that +point. She overheard two of the “up back†young men talking about her +in the dark “lean-to†behind her. + +“Know who that girl in green is?†+ +“Nope. Guess she’s from out front. The Port, maybe. Got a stylish look +to her.†+ +“No beaut but cute-looking, I’ll say. ‘Jever see such eyes?†+ +The big room was decorated with pine and fir boughs, and lighted by +Chinese lanterns. The floor was waxed, and Roaring Abel’s fiddle, +purring under his skilled touch, worked magic. The “up back†girls were +pretty and prettily dressed. Valancy thought it the nicest party she +had ever attended. + +By eleven o’clock she had changed her mind. A new crowd had arrived—a +crowd unmistakably drunk. Whiskey began to circulate freely. Very soon +almost all the men were partly drunk. Those in the porch and outside +around the door began howling “come-all-ye’s†and continued to howl +them. The room grew noisy and reeking. Quarrels started up here and +there. Bad language and obscene songs were heard. The girls, swung +rudely in the dances, became dishevelled and tawdry. Valancy, alone in +her corner, was feeling disgusted and repentant. Why had she ever come +to such a place? Freedom and independence were all very well, but one +should not be a little fool. She might have known what it would be +like—she might have taken warning from Cissy’s guarded sentences. Her +head was aching—she was sick of the whole thing. But what could she do? +She must stay to the end. Abel could not leave till then. And that +would probably be not till three or four in the morning. + +The new influx of boys had left the girls far in the minority and +partners were scarce. Valancy was pestered with invitations to dance. +She refused them all shortly, and some of her refusals were not well +taken. There were muttered oaths and sullen looks. Across the room she +saw a group of the strangers talking together and glancing meaningly at +her. What were they plotting? + +It was at this moment that she saw Barney Snaith looking in over the +heads of the crowd at the doorway. Valancy had two distinct +convictions—one was that she was quite safe now; the other was that +_this_ was why she had wanted to come to the dance. It had been such an +absurd hope that she had not recognised it before, but now she knew she +had come because of the possibility that Barney might be there, too. +She thought that perhaps she ought to be ashamed for this, but she +wasn’t. After her feeling of relief her next feeling was one of +annoyance with Barney for coming there unshaved. Surely he might have +enough self-respect to groom himself up decently when he went to a +party. There he was, bareheaded, bristly-chinned, in his old trousers +and his blue homespun shirt. Not even a coat. Valancy could have shaken +him in her anger. No wonder people believed everything bad of him. + +But she was not afraid any longer. One of the whispering group left his +comrades and came across the room to her, through the whirling couples +that now filled it uncomfortably. He was a tall, broad-shouldered +fellow, not ill-dressed or ill-looking but unmistakably half drunk. He +asked Valancy to dance. Valancy declined civilly. His face turned +livid. He threw his arm about her and pulled her to him. His hot, +whiskied breath burned her face. + +“We won’t have fine-lady airs here, my girl. If you ain’t too good to +come here you ain’t too good to dance with us. Me and my pals have been +watching you. You’ve got to give us each a turn and a kiss to boot.†+ +Valancy tried desperately and vainly to free herself. She was being +dragged out into the maze of shouting, stamping, yelling dancers. The +next moment the man who held her went staggering across the room from a +neatly planted blow on the jaw, knocking down whirling couples as he +went. Valancy felt her arm grasped. + +“This way—quick,†said Barney Snaith. He swung her out through the open +window behind them, vaulted lightly over the sill and caught her hand. + +“Quick—we must run for it—they’ll be after us.†+ +Valancy ran as she had never run before, clinging tight to Barney’s +hand, wondering why she did not drop dead in such a mad scamper. +Suppose she did! What a scandal it would make for her poor people. For +the first time Valancy felt a little sorry for them. Also, she felt +glad that she had escaped from that horrible row. Also, glad that she +was holding tight to Barney’s hand. Her feelings were badly mixed and +she had never had so many in such a brief time in her life. + +They finally reached a quiet corner in the pine woods. The pursuit had +taken a different direction and the whoops and yells behind them were +growing faint. Valancy, out of breath, with a crazily beating heart, +collapsed on the trunk of a fallen pine. + +“Thanks,†she gasped. + +“What a goose you were to come to such a place!†said Barney. + +“I—didn’t—know—it—would—be like this,†protested Valancy. + +“You _should_ have known. Chidley Corners!†+ +“It—was—just—a name—to me.†+ +Valancy knew Barney could not realise how ignorant she was of the +regions “up back.†She had lived in Deerwood all her life and of course +he supposed she knew. He didn’t know how she had been brought up. There +was no use trying to explain. + +“When I drifted in at Abel’s this evening and Cissy told me you’d come +here I was amazed. And downright scared. Cissy told me she was worried +about you but hadn’t liked to say anything to dissuade you for fear +you’d think she was thinking selfishly about herself. So I came on up +here instead of going to Deerwood.†+ +Valancy felt a sudden delightful glow irradiating soul and body under +the dark pines. So he had actually come up to look after her. + +“As soon as they stop hunting for us we’ll sneak around to the Muskoka +road. I left Lady Jane down there. I’ll take you home. I suppose you’ve +had enough of your party.†+ +“Quite,†said Valancy meekly. The first half of the way home neither of +them said anything. It would not have been much use. Lady Jane made so +much noise they could not have heard each other. Anyway, Valancy did +not feel conversationally inclined. She was ashamed of the whole +affair—ashamed of her folly in going—ashamed of being found in such a +place by Barney Snaith. By Barney Snaith, reputed jail-breaker, +infidel, forger and defaulter. Valancy’s lips twitched in the darkness +as she thought of it. But she _was_ ashamed. + +And yet she was enjoying herself—was full of a strange +exultation—bumping over that rough road beside Barney Snaith. The big +trees shot by them. The tall mulleins stood up along the road in stiff, +orderly ranks like companies of soldiers. The thistles looked like +drunken fairies or tipsy elves as their car-lights passed over them. +This was the first time she had even been in a car. After all, she +liked it. She was not in the least afraid, with Barney at the wheel. +Her spirits rose rapidly as they tore along. She ceased to feel +ashamed. She ceased to feel anything except that she was part of a +comet rushing gloriously through the night of space. + +All at once, just where the pine woods frayed out to the scrub barrens, +Lady Jane became quiet—too quiet. Lady Jane slowed down quietly—and +stopped. + +Barney uttered an aghast exclamation. Got out. Investigated. Came +apologetically back. + +“I’m a doddering idiot. Out of gas. I knew I was short when I left +home, but I meant to fill up in Deerwood. Then I forgot all about it in +my hurry to get to the Corners.†+ +“What can we do?†asked Valancy coolly. + +“I don’t know. There’s no gas nearer than Deerwood, nine miles away. +And I don’t dare leave you here alone. There are always tramps on this +road—and some of those crazy fools back at the Corners may come +straggling along presently. There were boys there from the Port. As far +as I can see, the best thing to do is for us just to sit patiently here +until some car comes along and lends us enough gas to get to Roaring +Abel’s with.†+ +“Well, what’s the matter with that?†said Valancy. + +“We may have to sit here all night,†said Barney. + +“I don’t mind,†said Valancy. + +Barney gave a short laugh. “If you don’t, I needn’t. I haven’t any +reputation to lose.†+ +“Nor I,†said Valancy comfortably. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + + +“We’ll just sit here,†said Barney, “and if we think of anything worth +while saying we’ll say it. Otherwise, not. Don’t imagine you’re bound +to talk to me.†+ +“John Foster says,†quoted Valancy, “‘If you can sit in silence with a +person for half an hour and yet be entirely comfortable, you and that +person can be friends. If you cannot, friends you’ll never be and you +need not waste time in trying.’†+ +“Evidently John Foster says a sensible thing once in a while,†conceded +Barney. + +They sat in silence for a long while. Little rabbits hopped across the +road. Once or twice an owl laughed out delightfully. The road beyond +them was fringed with the woven shadow lace of trees. Away off to the +southwest the sky was full of silvery little cirrus clouds above the +spot where Barney’s island must be. + +Valancy was perfectly happy. Some things dawn on you slowly. Some +things come by lightning flashes. Valancy had had a lightning flash. + +She knew quite well now that she loved Barney. Yesterday she had been +all her own. Now she was this man’s. Yet he had done nothing—said +nothing. He had not even looked at her as a woman. But that didn’t +matter. Nor did it matter what he was or what he had done. She loved +him without any reservations. Everything in her went out wholly to him. +She had no wish to stifle or disown her love. She seemed to be his so +absolutely that thought apart from him—thought in which he did not +predominate—was an impossibility. + +She had realised, quite simply and fully, that she loved him, in the +moment when he was leaning on the car door, explaining that Lady Jane +had no gas. She had looked deep into his eyes in the moonlight and had +known. In just that infinitesimal space of time everything was changed. +Old things passed away and all things became new. + +She was no longer unimportant, little, old maid Valancy Stirling. She +was a woman, full of love and therefore rich and significant—justified +to herself. Life was no longer empty and futile, and death could cheat +her of nothing. Love had cast out her last fear. + +Love! What a searing, torturing, intolerably sweet thing it was—this +possession of body, soul and mind! With something at its core as fine +and remote and purely spiritual as the tiny blue spark in the heart of +the unbreakable diamond. No dream had ever been like this. She was no +longer solitary. She was one of a vast sisterhood—all the women who had +ever loved in the world. + +Barney need never know it—though she would not in the least have minded +his knowing. But _she_ knew it and it made a tremendous difference to +her. Just to love! She did not ask to be loved. It was rapture enough +just to sit there beside him in silence, alone in the summer night in +the white splendour of moonshine, with the wind blowing down on them +out of the pine woods. She had always envied the wind. So free. Blowing +where it listed. Through the hills. Over the lakes. What a tang, what a +zip it had! What a magic of adventure! Valancy felt as if she had +exchanged her shop-worn soul for a fresh one, fire-new from the +workshop of the gods. As far back as she could look, life had been +dull—colourless—savourless. Now she had come to a little patch of +violets, purple and fragrant—hers for the plucking. No matter who or +what had been in Barney’s past—no matter who or what might be in his +future—no one else could ever have this perfect hour. She surrendered +herself utterly to the charm of the moment. + +“Ever dream of ballooning?†said Barney suddenly. + +“No,†said Valancy. + +“I do—often. Dream of sailing through the clouds—seeing the glories of +sunset—spending hours in the midst of a terrific storm with lightning +playing above and below you—skimming above a silver cloud floor under a +full moon—wonderful!†+ +“It does sound so,†said Valancy. “I’ve stayed on earth in my dreams.†+ +She told him about her Blue Castle. It was so easy to tell Barney +things. One felt he understood everything—even the things you didn’t +tell him. And then she told him a little of her existence before she +came to Roaring Abel’s. She wanted him to see why she had gone to the +dance “up back.†+ +“You see—I’ve never had any real life,†she said. “I’ve just—breathed. +Every door has always been shut to me.†+ +“But you’re still young,†said Barney. + +“Oh, I know. Yes, I’m ‘still young’—but that’s so different from +_young_,†said Valancy bitterly. For a moment she was tempted to tell +Barney why her years had nothing to do with her future; but she did +not. She was not going to think of death tonight. + +“Though I never was really young,†she went on—“until tonight,†she +added in her heart. “I never had a life like other girls. You couldn’t +understand. Why,â€â€”she had a desperate desire that Barney should know +the worst about her—“I didn’t even love my mother. Isn’t it awful that +I don’t love my mother?†+ +“Rather awful—for her,†said Barney drily. + +“Oh, she didn’t know it. She took my love for granted. And I wasn’t any +use or comfort to her or anybody. I was just a—a—vegetable. And I got +tired of it. That’s why I came to keep house for Mr. Gay and look after +Cissy.†+ +“And I suppose your people thought you’d gone mad.†+ +“They did—and do—literally,†said Valancy. “But it’s a comfort to them. +They’d rather believe me mad than bad. There’s no other alternative. +But I’ve been _living_ since I came to Mr. Gay’s. It’s been a +delightful experience. I suppose I’ll pay for it when I have to go +back—but I’ll have _had_ it.†+ +“That’s true,†said Barney. “If you buy your experience it’s your own. +So it’s no matter how much you pay for it. Somebody else’s experience +can never be yours. Well, it’s a funny old world.†+ +“Do you think it really is old?†asked Valancy dreamily. “I never +believe _that_ in June. It seems so young tonight—somehow. In that +quivering moonlight—like a young, white girl—waiting.†+ +“Moonlight here on the verge of up back is different from moonlight +anywhere else,†agreed Barney. “It always makes me feel so clean, +somehow—body and soul. And of course the age of gold always comes back +in spring.†+ +It was ten o’clock now. A dragon of black cloud ate up the moon. The +spring air grew chill—Valancy shivered. Barney reached back into the +innards of Lady Jane and clawed up an old, tobacco-scented overcoat. + +“Put that on,†he ordered. + +“Don’t you want it yourself?†protested Valancy. + +“No. I’m not going to have you catching cold on my hands.†+ +“Oh, I won’t catch cold. I haven’t had a cold since I came to Mr. +Gay’s—though I’ve done the foolishest things. It’s funny, too—I used to +have them all the time. I feel so selfish taking your coat.†+ +“You’ve sneezed three times. No use winding up your ‘experience’ up +back with grippe or pneumonia.†+ +He pulled it up tight about her throat and buttoned it on her. Valancy +submitted with secret delight. How nice it was to have some one look +after you so! She snuggled down into the tobaccoey folds and wished the +night could last forever. + +Ten minutes later a car swooped down on them from “up back.†Barney +sprang from Lady Jane and waved his hand. The car came to a stop beside +them. Valancy saw Uncle Wellington and Olive gazing at her in horror +from it. + +So Uncle Wellington had got a car! And he must have been spending the +evening up at Mistawis with Cousin Herbert. Valancy almost laughed +aloud at the expression on his face as he recognised her. The pompous, +bewhiskered old humbug! + +“Can you let me have enough gas to take me to Deerwood?†Barney was +asking politely. But Uncle Wellington was not attending to him. + +“Valancy, how came you _here_!†he said sternly. + +“By chance or God’s grace,†said Valancy. + +“With this jail-bird—at ten o’clock at night!†said Uncle Wellington. + +Valancy turned to Barney. The moon had escaped from its dragon and in +its light her eyes were full of deviltry. + +“_Are_ you a jail-bird?†+ +“Does it matter?†said Barney, gleams of fun in _his_ eyes. + +“Not to me. I only asked out of curiosity,†continued Valancy. + +“Then I won’t tell you. I never satisfy curiosity.†He turned to Uncle +Wellington and his voice changed subtly. + +“Mr. Stirling, I asked you if you could let me have some gas. If you +can, well and good. If not, we are only delaying you unnecessarily.†+ +Uncle Wellington was in a horrible dilemma. To give gas to this +shameless pair! But not to give it to them! To go away and leave them +there in the Mistawis woods—until daylight, likely. It was better to +give it to them and let them get out of sight before any one else saw +them. + +“Got anything to get gas in?†he grunted surlily. + +Barney produced a two-gallon measure from Lady Jane. The two men went +to the rear of the Stirling car and began manipulating the tap. Valancy +stole sly glances at Olive over the collar of Barney’s coat. Olive was +sitting grimly staring straight ahead with an outraged expression. She +did not mean to take any notice of Valancy. Olive had her own secret +reasons for feeling outraged. Cecil had been in Deerwood lately and of +course had heard all about Valancy. He agreed that her mind was +deranged and was exceedingly anxious to find out whence the derangement +had been inherited. It was a serious thing to have in the family—a very +serious thing. One had to think of one’s—descendants. + +“She got it from the Wansbarras,†said Olive positively. “There’s +nothing like that in the Stirlings—nothing!†+ +“I hope not—I certainly hope not,†Cecil had responded dubiously. “But +then—to go out as a servant—for that is what it practically amounts to. +Your cousin!†+ +Poor Olive felt the implication. The Port Lawrence Prices were not +accustomed to ally themselves with families whose members “worked out.†+ +Valancy could not resist temptation. She leaned forward. + +“Olive, does it hurt?†+ +Olive bit—stiffly. + +“Does _what_ hurt?†+ +“Looking like that.†+ +For a moment Olive resolved she would take no further notice of +Valancy. Then duty came uppermost. She must not miss the opportunity. + +“Doss,†she implored, leaning forward also, “won’t you come home—come +home tonight?†+ +Valancy yawned. + +“You sound like a revival meeting,†she said. “You really do.†+ +“If you will come back——†+ +“All will be forgiven.†+ +“Yes,†said Olive eagerly. Wouldn’t it be splendid if _she_ could +induce the prodigal daughter to return? “We’ll never cast it up to you. +Doss, there are nights when I cannot sleep for thinking of you.†+ +“And me having the time of my life,†said Valancy, laughing. + +“Doss, I can’t believe you’re bad. I’ve always said you couldn’t be +bad——†+ +“I don’t believe I can be,†said Valancy. “I’m afraid I’m hopelessly +proper. I’ve been sitting here for three hours with Barney Snaith and +he hasn’t even tried to kiss me. I wouldn’t have minded if he had, +Olive.†+ +Valancy was still leaning forward. Her little hat with its crimson rose +was tilted down over one eye. Olive stared. In the moonlight Valancy’s +eyes—Valancy’s smile—what had happened to Valancy! She looked—not +pretty—Doss couldn’t be pretty—but provocative, fascinating—yes, +abominably so. Olive drew back. It was beneath her dignity to say more. +After all, Valancy must be both mad _and_ bad. + +“Thanks—that’s enough,†said Barney behind the car. “Much obliged, Mr. +Stirling. Two gallons—seventy cents. Thank you.†+ +Uncle Wellington climbed foolishly and feebly into his car. He wanted +to give Snaith a piece of his mind, but dared not. Who knew what the +creature might do if provoked? No doubt he carried firearms. + +Uncle Wellington looked indecisively at Valancy. But Valancy had turned +her back on him and was watching Barney pour the gas into Lady Jane’s +maw. + +“Drive on,†said Olive decisively. “There’s no use in waiting here. Let +me tell you what she said to me.†+ +“The little hussy! The shameless little hussy!†said Uncle Wellington. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + + +The next thing the Stirlings heard was that Valancy had been seen with +Barney Snaith in a movie theatre in Port Lawrence and after it at +supper in a Chinese restaurant there. This was quite true—and no one +was more surprised at it than Valancy herself. Barney had come along in +Lady Jane one dim twilight and told Valancy unceremoniously if she +wanted a drive to hop in. + +“I’m going to the Port. Will you go there with me?†+ +His eyes were teasing and there was a bit of defiance in his voice. +Valancy, who did not conceal from herself that she would have gone +anywhere with him to any place, “hopped in†without more ado. They tore +into and through Deerwood. Mrs. Frederick and Cousin Stickles, taking a +little air on the verandah, saw them whirl by in a cloud of dust and +sought comfort in each other’s eyes. Valancy, who in some dim +pre-existence had been afraid of a car, was hatless and her hair was +blowing wildly round her face. She would certainly come down with +bronchitis—and die at Roaring Abel’s. She wore a low-necked dress and +her arms were bare. That Snaith creature was in his shirt-sleeves, +smoking a pipe. They were going at the rate of forty miles an +hour—sixty, Cousin Stickles averred. Lady Jane could hit the pike when +she wanted to. Valancy waved her hand gaily to her relatives. As for +Mrs. Frederick, she was wishing she knew how to go into hysterics. + +“Was it for this,†she demanded in hollow tones, “that I suffered the +pangs of motherhood?†+ +“I will not believe,†said Cousin Stickles solemnly, “that our prayers +will not yet be answered.†+ +“Who—_who_ will protect that unfortunate girl when I am gone?†moaned +Mrs. Frederick. + +As for Valancy, she was wondering if it could really be only a few +weeks since she had sat there with them on that verandah. Hating the +rubber-plant. Pestered with teasing questions like black flies. Always +thinking of appearances. Cowed because of Aunt Wellington’s teaspoons +and Uncle Benjamin’s money. Poverty-stricken. Afraid of everybody. +Envying Olive. A slave to moth-eaten traditions. Nothing to hope for or +expect. + +And now every day was a gay adventure. + +Lady Jane flew over the fifteen miles between Deerwood and the +Port—through the Port. The way Barney went past traffic policemen was +not holy. The lights were beginning to twinkle out like stars in the +clear, lemon-hued twilight air. This was the only time Valancy ever +really liked the town, and she was crazy with the delight of speeding. +Was it possible she had ever been afraid of a car? She was perfectly +happy, riding beside Barney. Not that she deluded herself into thinking +it had any significance. She knew quite well that Barney had asked her +to go on the impulse of the moment—an impulse born of a feeling of pity +for her and her starved little dreams. She was looking tired after a +wakeful night with a heart attack, followed by a busy day. She had so +little fun. He’d give her an outing for once. Besides, Abel was in the +kitchen, at the point of drunkenness where he was declaring he did not +believe in God and beginning to sing ribald songs. It was just as well +she should be out of the way for a while. Barney knew Roaring Abel’s +repertoire. + +They went to the movie—Valancy had never been to a movie. And then, +finding a nice hunger upon them, they went and had fried +chicken—unbelievably delicious—in the Chinese restaurant. After which +they rattled home again, leaving a devastating trail of scandal behind +them. Mrs. Frederick gave up going to church altogether. She could not +endure her friends’ pitying glances and questions. But Cousin Stickles +went every Sunday. She said they had been given a cross to bear. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + + +On one of Cissy’s wakeful nights, she told Valancy her poor little +story. They were sitting by the open window. Cissy could not get her +breath lying down that night. An inglorious gibbous moon was hanging +over the wooded hills and in its spectral light Cissy looked frail and +lovely and incredibly young. A child. It did not seem possible that she +could have lived through all the passion and pain and shame of her +story. + +“He was stopping at the hotel across the lake. He used to come over in +his canoe at night—we met in the pines down the shore. He was a young +college student—his father was a rich man in Toronto. Oh, Valancy, I +didn’t mean to be bad—I didn’t, indeed. But I loved him so—I love him +yet—I’ll always love him. And I—didn’t know—some things. I +didn’t—understand. Then his father came and took him away. And—after a +little—I found out—oh, Valancy,—I was so frightened. I didn’t know what +to do. I wrote him—and he came. He—he said he would marry me, Valancy.†+ +“And why—and why?——†+ +“Oh, Valancy, he didn’t love me any more. I saw that at a glance. He—he +was just offering to marry me because he thought he ought to—because he +was sorry for me. He wasn’t bad—but he was so young—and what was I that +he should keep on loving me?†+ +“Never mind making excuses for him,†said Valancy a bit shortly. “So +you wouldn’t marry him?†+ +“I couldn’t—not when he didn’t love me any more. Somehow—I can’t +explain—it seemed a worse thing to do than—the other. He—he argued a +little—but he went away. Do you think I did right, Valancy?†+ +“Yes, I do. _You_ did right. But he——†+ +“Don’t blame him, dear. Please don’t. Let’s not talk about him at all. +There’s no need. I wanted to tell you how it was—I didn’t want you to +think me bad——†+ +“I never did think so.†+ +“Yes, I felt that—whenever you came. Oh, Valancy, what you’ve been to +me! I can never tell you—but God will bless you for it. I know He +will—‘with what measure ye mete.’†+ +Cissy sobbed for a few minutes in Valancy’s arms. Then she wiped her +eyes. + +“Well, that’s almost all. I came home. I wasn’t really so very unhappy. +I suppose I should have been—but I wasn’t. Father wasn’t hard on me. +And my baby was so sweet while he lived. I was even happy—I loved him +so much, the dear little thing. He was so sweet, Valancy—with such +lovely blue eyes—and little rings of pale gold hair like silk floss—and +tiny dimpled hands. I used to bite his satin-smooth little face all +over—softly, so as not to hurt him, you know——†+ +“I know,†said Valancy, wincing. “I know—a woman _always_ knows—and +dreams——†+ +“And he was _all_ mine. Nobody else had any claim on him. When he died, +oh, Valancy, I thought I must die too—I didn’t see how anybody could +endure such anguish and live. To see his dear little eyes and know he +would never open them again—to miss his warm little body nestled +against mine at night and think of him sleeping alone and cold, his wee +face under the hard frozen earth. It was so awful for the first +year—after that it was a little easier, one didn’t keep thinking ‘this +day last year’—but I was so glad when I found out I was dying.†+ +“‘Who could endure life if it were not for the hope of death?’†+murmured Valancy softly—it was of course a quotation from some book of +John Foster’s. + +“I’m glad I’ve told you all about it,†sighed Cissy. “I wanted you to +know.†+ +Cissy died a few nights after that. Roaring Abel was away. When Valancy +saw the change that had come over Cissy’s face she wanted to telephone +for the doctor. But Cissy wouldn’t let her. + +“Valancy, why should you? He can do nothing for me. I’ve known for +several days that—this—was near. Let me die in peace, dear—just holding +your hand. Oh, I’m so glad you’re here. Tell Father good-bye for me. +He’s always been as good to me as he knew how—and Barney. Somehow, I +think that Barney——†+ +But a spasm of coughing interrupted and exhausted her. She fell asleep +when it was over, still holding to Valancy’s hand. Valancy sat there in +the silence. She was not frightened—or even sorry. At sunrise Cissy +died. She opened her eyes and looked past Valancy at +something—something that made her smile suddenly and happily. And, +smiling, she died. + +Valancy crossed Cissy’s hands on her breast and went to the open +window. In the eastern sky, amid the fires of sunrise, an old moon was +hanging—as slender and lovely as a new moon. Valancy had never seen an +old, old moon before. She watched it pale and fade until it paled and +faded out of sight in the living rose of day. A little pool in the +barrens shone in the sunrise like a great golden lily. + +But the world suddenly seemed a colder place to Valancy. Again nobody +needed her. She was not in the least sorry Cecilia was dead. She was +only sorry for all her suffering in life. But nobody could ever hurt +her again. Valancy had always thought death dreadful. But Cissy had +died so quietly—so pleasantly. And at the very last—something—had made +up to her for everything. She was lying there now, in her white sleep, +looking like a child. Beautiful! All the lines of shame and pain gone. + +Roaring Abel drove in, justifying his name. Valancy went down and told +him. The shock sobered him at once. He slumped down on the seat of his +buggy, his great head hanging. + +“Cissy dead—Cissy dead,†he said vacantly. “I didn’t think it would ‘a’ +come so soon. Dead. She used to run down the lane to meet me with a +little white rose stuck in her hair. Cissy used to be a pretty little +girl. And a good little girl.†+ +“She has always been a good little girl,†said Valancy. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + + +Valancy herself made Cissy ready for burial. No hands but hers should +touch that pitiful, wasted little body. The old house was spotless on +the day of the funeral. Barney Snaith was not there. He had done all he +could to help Valancy before it—he had shrouded the pale Cecilia in +white roses from the garden—and then had gone back to his island. But +everybody else was there. All Deerwood and “up back†came. They forgave +Cissy splendidly at last. Mr. Bradly gave a very beautiful funeral +address. Valancy had wanted her old Free Methodist man, but Roaring +Abel was obdurate. He was a Presbyterian and no one but a Presbyterian +minister should bury _his_ daughter. Mr. Bradly was very tactful. He +avoided all dubious points and it was plain to be seen he hoped for the +best. Six reputable citizens of Deerwood bore Cecilia Gay to her grave +in decorous Deerwood cemetery. Among them was Uncle Wellington. + +The Stirlings all came to the funeral, men and women. They had had a +family conclave over it. Surely now that Cissy Gay was dead Valancy +would come home. She simply could not stay there with Roaring Abel. +That being the case, the wisest course—decreed Uncle James—was to +attend the funeral—legitimise the whole thing, so to speak—show +Deerwood that Valancy had really done a most creditable deed in going +to nurse poor Cecilia Gay and that her family backed her up in it. +Death, the miracle worker, suddenly made the thing quite respectable. +If Valancy would return to home and decency while public opinion was +under its influence all might yet be well. Society was suddenly +forgetting all Cecilia’s wicked doings and remembering what a pretty, +modest little thing she had been—“and motherless, you know—motherless!†+It was the psychological moment—said Uncle James. + +So the Stirlings went to the funeral. Even Cousin Gladys’ neuritis +allowed her to come. Cousin Stickles was there, her bonnet dripping all +over her face, crying as woefully as if Cissy had been her nearest and +dearest. Funerals always brought Cousin Stickles’ “own sad bereavement†+back. + +And Uncle Wellington was a pall-bearer. + +Valancy, pale, subdued-looking, her slanted eyes smudged with purple, +in her snuff-brown dress, moving quietly about, finding seats for +people, consulting in undertones with minister and undertaker, +marshalling the “mourners†into the parlour, was so decorous and proper +and Stirlingish that her family took heart of grace. This was not—could +not be—the girl who had sat all night in the woods with Barney +Snaith—who had gone tearing bareheaded through Deerwood and Port +Lawrence. This was the Valancy they knew. Really, surprisingly capable +and efficient. Perhaps she had always been kept down a bit too +much—Amelia really was rather strict—hadn’t had a chance to show what +was in her. So thought the Stirlings. And Edward Beck, from the Port +road, a widower with a large family who was beginning to take notice, +took notice of Valancy and thought she might make a mighty fine second +wife. No beauty—but a fifty-year-old widower, Mr. Beck told himself +very reasonably, couldn’t expect everything. Altogether, it seemed that +Valancy’s matrimonial chances were never so bright as they were at +Cecilia Gay’s funeral. + +What the Stirlings and Edward Beck would have thought had they known +the back of Valancy’s mind must be left to the imagination. Valancy was +hating the funeral—hating the people who came to stare with curiosity +at Cecilia’s marble-white face—hating the smugness—hating the dragging, +melancholy singing—hating Mr. Bradly’s cautious platitudes. If she +could have had her absurd way, there would have been no funeral at all. +She would have covered Cissy over with flowers, shut her away from +prying eyes, and buried her beside her nameless little baby in the +grassy burying-ground under the pines of the “up back†church, with a +bit of kindly prayer from the old Free Methodist minister. She +remembered Cissy saying once, “I wish I could be buried deep in the +heart of the woods where nobody would ever come to say, ‘Cissy Gay is +buried here,’ and tell over my miserable story.†+ +But this! However, it would soon be over. Valancy knew, if the +Stirlings and Edward Beck didn’t, exactly what she intended to do then. +She had lain awake all the preceding night thinking about it and +finally deciding on it. + +When the funeral procession had left the house, Mrs. Frederick sought +out Valancy in the kitchen. + +“My child,†she said tremulously, “you’ll come home _now_?†+ +“Home,†said Valancy absently. She was getting on an apron and +calculating how much tea she must put to steep for supper. There would +be several guests from “up backâ€â€”distant relatives of the Gays’ who had +not remembered them for years. And she was so tired she wished she +could borrow a pair of legs from the cat. + +“Yes, home,†said Mrs. Frederick, with a touch of asperity. “I suppose +you won’t dream of staying here _now_—alone with Roaring Abel.†+ +“Oh, no, I’m not going to stay _here_,†said Valancy. “Of course, I’ll +have to stay for a day or two, to put the house in order generally. But +that will be all. Excuse me, Mother, won’t you? I’ve a frightful lot to +do—all those “up back†people will be here to supper.†+ +Mrs. Frederick retreated in considerable relief, and the Stirlings went +home with lighter hearts. + +“We will just treat her as if nothing had happened when she comes +back,†decreed Uncle Benjamin. “That will be the best plan. Just as if +nothing had happened.†+ + + + +CHAPTER XXV + + +On the evening of the day after the funeral Roaring Abel went off for a +spree. He had been sober for four whole days and could endure it no +longer. Before he went, Valancy told him she would be going away the +next day. Roaring Abel was sorry, and said so. A distant cousin from +“up back†was coming to keep house for him—quite willing to do so now +since there was no sick girl to wait on—but Abel was not under any +delusions concerning her. + +“She won’t be like you, my girl. Well, I’m obliged to you. You helped +me out of a bad hole and I won’t forget it. And I won’t forget what you +did for Cissy. I’m your friend, and if you ever want any of the +Stirlings spanked and sot in a corner send for me. I’m going to wet my +whistle. Lord, but I’m dry! Don’t reckon I’ll be back afore tomorrow +night, so if you’re going home tomorrow, good-bye now.†+ +“I _may_ go home tomorrow,†said Valancy, “but I’m not going back to +Deerwood.†+ +“Not going——†+ +“You’ll find the key on the woodshed nail,†interrupted Valancy, +politely and unmistakably. “The dog will be in the barn and the cat in +the cellar. Don’t forget to feed her till your cousin comes. The pantry +is full and I made bread and pies today. Good-bye, Mr. Gay. You have +been very kind to me and I appreciate it.†+ +“We’ve had a d——d decent time of it together, and that’s a fact,†said +Roaring Abel. “You’re the best small sport in the world, and your +little finger is worth the whole Stirling clan tied together. Good-bye +and good-luck.†+ +Valancy went out to the garden. Her legs trembled a little, but +otherwise she felt and looked composed. She held something tightly in +her hand. The garden was lying in the magic of the warm, odorous July +twilight. A few stars were out and the robins were calling through the +velvety silences of the barrens. Valancy stood by the gate expectantly. +Would he come? If he did not—— + +He was coming. Valancy heard Lady Jane Grey far back in the woods. Her +breath came a little more quickly. Nearer—and nearer—she could see Lady +Jane now—bumping down the lane—nearer—nearer—he was there—he had sprung +from the car and was leaning over the gate, looking at her. + +“Going home, Miss Stirling?†+ +“I don’t know—yet,†said Valancy slowly. Her mind was made up, with no +shadow of turning, but the moment was very tremendous. + +“I thought I’d run down and ask if there was anything I could do for +you,†said Barney. + +Valancy took it with a canter. + +“Yes, there is something you can do for me,†she said, evenly and +distinctly. “Will you marry me?†+ +For a moment Barney was silent. There was no particular expression on +his face. Then he gave an odd laugh. + +“Come, now! I knew luck was just waiting around the corner for me. All +the signs have been pointing that way today.†+ +“Wait.†Valancy lifted her hand. “I’m in earnest—but I want to get my +breath after that question. Of course, with my bringing up, I realise +perfectly well that this is one of the things ‘a lady should not do.’†+ +“But why—why?†+ +“For two reasons.†Valancy was still a little breathless, but she +looked Barney straight in the eyes, while all the dead Stirlings +revolved rapidly in their graves and the living ones did nothing +because they did not know that Valancy was at that moment proposing +lawful marriage to the notorious Barney Snaith. “The first reason is, +I—Iâ€â€”Valancy tried to say “I love you†but could not. She had to take +refuge in a pretended flippancy. “I’m crazy about you. The second +is—this.†+ +She handed him Dr. Trent’s letter. + +Barney opened it with the air of a man thankful to find some safe, sane +thing to do. As he read it his face changed. He understood—more perhaps +than Valancy wanted him to. + +“Are you sure nothing can be done for you?†+ +Valancy did not misunderstand the question. + +“Yes. You know Dr. Trent’s reputation in regard to heart disease. I +haven’t long to live—perhaps only a few months—a few weeks. I want to +_live_ them. I can’t go back to Deerwood—you know what my life was like +there. Andâ€â€”she managed it this time—“I love you. I want to spend the +rest of my life with you. That’s all.†+ +Barney folded his arms on the gate and looked gravely enough at a +white, saucy star that was winking at him just over Roaring Abel’s +kitchen chimney. + +“You don’t know anything about me. I may be a—murderer.†+ +“No, I don’t. You _may_ be something dreadful. Everything they say of +you may be true. But it doesn’t matter to me.†+ +“You care that much for me, Valancy?†said Barney incredulously, +looking away from the star and into her eyes—her strange, mysterious +eyes. + +“I care—that much,†said Valancy in a low voice. She was trembling. He +had called her by her name for the first time. It was sweeter than +another man’s caress could have been just to hear him say her name like +that. + +“If we are going to get married,†said Barney, speaking suddenly in a +casual, matter-of-fact voice, “some things must be understood.†+ +“Everything must be understood,†said Valancy. + +“I have things I want to hide,†said Barney coolly. “You are not to ask +me about them.†+ +“I won’t,†said Valancy. + +“You must never ask to see my mail.†+ +“Never.†+ +“And we are never to pretend anything to each other.†+ +“We won’t,†said Valancy. “You won’t even have to pretend you like me. +If you marry me I know you’re only doing it out of pity.†+ +“And we’ll never tell a lie to each other about anything—a big lie or a +petty lie.†+ +“Especially a petty lie,†agreed Valancy. + +“And you’ll have to live back on my island. I won’t live anywhere +else.†+ +“That’s partly why I want to marry you,†said Valancy. + +Barney peered at her. + +“I believe you mean it. Well—let’s get married, then.†+ +“Thank you,†said Valancy, with a sudden return of primness. She would +have been much less embarrassed if he had refused her. + +“I suppose I haven’t any right to make conditions. But I’m going to +make one. You are never to refer to my heart or my liability to sudden +death. You are never to urge me to be careful. You are to +forget—absolutely forget—that I’m not perfectly healthy. I have written +a letter to my mother—here it is—you are to keep it. I have explained +everything in it. If I drop dead suddenly—as I likely will do——†+ +“It will exonerate me in the eyes of your kindred from the suspicion of +having poisoned you,†said Barney with a grin. + +“Exactly.†Valancy laughed gaily. “Dear me, I’m glad this is over. It +has been—a bit of an ordeal. You see, I’m not in the habit of going +about asking men to marry me. It is so nice of you not to refuse me—or +offer to be a brother!†+ +“I’ll go to the Port tomorrow and get a license. We can be married +tomorrow evening. Dr. Stalling, I suppose?†+ +“Heavens, no.†Valancy shuddered. “Besides, he wouldn’t do it. He’d +shake his forefinger at me and I’d jilt you at the altar. No, I want my +old Mr. Towers to marry me.†+ +“Will you marry me as I stand?†demanded Barney. A passing car, full of +tourists, honked loudly—it seemed derisively. Valancy looked at him. +Blue homespun shirt, nondescript hat, muddy overalls. Unshaved! + +“Yes,†she said. + +Barney put his hands over the gate and took her little, cold ones +gently in his. + +“Valancy,†he said, trying to speak lightly, “of course I’m not in love +with you—never thought of such a thing as being in love. But, do you +know, I’ve always thought you were a bit of a dear.†+ + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + + +The next day passed for Valancy like a dream. She could not make +herself or anything she did seem real. She saw nothing of Barney, +though she expected he must go rattling past on his way to the Port for +a license. + +Perhaps he had changed his mind. + +But at dusk the lights of Lady Jane suddenly swooped over the crest of +the wooded hill beyond the lane. Valancy was waiting at the gate for +her bridegroom. She wore her green dress and her green hat because she +had nothing else to wear. She did not look or feel at all +bride-like—she really looked like a wild elf strayed out of the +greenwood. But that did not matter. Nothing at all mattered except that +Barney was coming for her. + +“Ready?†said Barney, stopping Lady Jane with some new, horrible +noises. + +“Yes.†Valancy stepped in and sat down. Barney was in his blue shirt +and overalls. But they were clean overalls. He was smoking a +villainous-looking pipe and he was bareheaded. But he had a pair of +oddly smart boots on under his shabby overalls. And he was shaved. They +clattered into Deerwood and through Deerwood and hit the long, wooded +road to the Port. + +“Haven’t changed your mind?†said Barney. + +“No. Have you?†+ +“No.†+ +That was their whole conversation on the fifteen miles. Everything was +more dream-like than ever. Valancy didn’t know whether she felt happy. +Or terrified. Or just plain fool. + +Then the lights of Port Lawrence were about them. Valancy felt as if +she were surrounded by the gleaming, hungry eyes of hundreds of great, +stealthy panthers. Barney briefly asked where Mr. Towers lived, and +Valancy as briefly told him. They stopped before the shabby little +house in an unfashionable street. They went in to the small, shabby +parlour. Barney produced his license. So he _had_ got it. Also a ring. +This thing was real. She, Valancy Stirling, was actually on the point +of being married. + +They were standing up together before Mr. Towers. Valancy heard Mr. +Towers and Barney saying things. She heard some other person saying +things. She herself was thinking of the way she had once planned to be +married—away back in her early teens when such a thing had not seemed +impossible. White silk and tulle veil and orange-blossoms; no +bridesmaid. But one flower girl, in a frock of cream shadow lace over +pale pink, with a wreath of flowers in her hair, carrying a basket of +roses and lilies-of-the-valley. And the groom, a noble-looking +creature, irreproachably clad in whatever the fashion of the day +decreed. Valancy lifted her eyes and saw herself and Barney in the +little, slanting, distorting mirror over the mantelpiece. She in her +odd, unbridal green hat and dress; Barney in shirt and overalls. But it +was Barney. That was all that mattered. No veil—no flowers—no guests—no +presents—no wedding-cake—but just Barney. For all the rest of her life +there would be Barney. + +“Mrs. Snaith, I hope you will be very happy,†Mr. Towers was saying. + +He had not seemed surprised at their appearance—not even at Barney’s +overalls. He had seen plenty of queer weddings “up back.†He did not +know Valancy was one of the Deerwood Stirlings—he did not even know +there _were_ Deerwood Stirlings. He did not know Barney Snaith was a +fugitive from justice. Really, he was an incredibly ignorant old man. +Therefore he married them and gave them his blessing very gently and +solemnly and prayed for them that night after they had gone away. His +conscience did not trouble him at all. + +“What a nice way to get married!†Barney was saying as he put Lady Jane +in gear. “No fuss and flub-dub. I never supposed it was half so easy.†+ +“For heaven’s sake,†said Valancy suddenly, “let’s forget we _are_ +married and talk as if we weren’t. I can’t stand another drive like the +one we had coming in.†+ +Barney howled and threw Lady Jane into high with an infernal noise. + +“And I thought I was making it easy for you,†he said. “You didn’t seem +to want to talk.†+ +“I didn’t. But I wanted you to talk. I don’t want you to make love to +me, but I want you to act like an ordinary human being. Tell me about +this island of yours. What sort of a place is it?†+ +“The jolliest place in the world. You’re going to love it. The first +time I saw it I loved it. Old Tom MacMurray owned it then. He built the +little shack on it, lived there in winter and rented it to Toronto +people in summer. I bought it from him—became by that one simple +transaction a landed proprietor owning a house and an island. There is +something so satisfying in owning a whole island. And isn’t an +uninhabited island a charming idea? I’d wanted to own one ever since +I’d read _Robinson Crusoe_. It seemed too good to be true. And beauty! +Most of the scenery belongs to the government, but they don’t tax you +for looking at it, and the moon belongs to everybody. You won’t find my +shack very tidy. I suppose you’ll want to make it tidy.†+ +“Yes,†said Valancy honestly. “I _have_ to be tidy. I don’t really +_want_ to be. But untidiness hurts me. Yes, I’ll have to tidy up your +shack.†+ +“I was prepared for that,†said Barney, with a hollow groan. + +“But,†continued Valancy relentingly, “I won’t insist on your wiping +your feet when you come in.†+ +“No, you’ll only sweep up after me with the air of a martyr,†said +Barney. “Well, anyway, you can’t tidy the lean-to. You can’t even enter +it. The door will be locked and I shall keep the key.†+ +“Bluebeard’s chamber,†said Valancy. “I shan’t even think of it. I +don’t care how many wives you have hanging up in it. So long as they’re +really dead.†+ +“Dead as door-nails. You can do as you like in the rest of the house. +There’s not much of it—just one big living-room and one small bedroom. +Well built, though. Old Tom loved his job. The beams of our house are +cedar and the rafters fir. Our living-room windows face west and east. +It’s wonderful to have a room where you can see both sunrise and +sunset. I have two cats there. Banjo and Good Luck. Adorable animals. +Banjo is a big, enchanting, grey devil-cat. Striped, of course. I don’t +care a hang for any cat that hasn’t stripes. I never knew a cat who +could swear as genteelly and effectively as Banjo. His only fault is +that he snores horribly when he is asleep. Luck is a dainty little cat. +Always looking wistfully at you, as if he wanted to tell you something. +Maybe he will pull it off sometime. Once in a thousand years, you know, +one cat is allowed to speak. My cats are philosophers—neither of them +ever cries over spilt milk. + +“Two old crows live in a pine-tree on the point and are reasonably +neighbourly. Call ’em Nip and Tuck. And I have a demure little tame +owl. Name, Leander. I brought him up from a baby and he lives over on +the mainland and chuckles to himself o’ nights. And bats—it’s a great +place for bats at night. Scared of bats?†+ +“No; I like them.†+ +“So do I. Nice, queer, uncanny, mysterious creatures. Coming from +nowhere—going nowhere. Swoop! Banjo likes ’em, too. Eats ’em. I have a +canoe and a disappearing propeller boat. Went to the Port in it today +to get my license. Quieter than Lady Jane.†+ +“I thought you hadn’t gone at all—that you _had_ changed your mind,†+admitted Valancy. + +Barney laughed—the laugh Valancy did not like—the little, bitter, +cynical laugh. + +“I never change my mind,†he said shortly. + +They went back through Deerwood. Up the Muskoka road. Past Roaring +Abel’s. Over the rocky, daisied lane. The dark pine woods swallowed +them up. Through the pine woods, where the air was sweet with the +incense of the unseen, fragile bells of the linnæas that carpeted the +banks of the trail. Out to the shore of Mistawis. Lady Jane must be +left here. They got out. Barney led the way down a little path to the +edge of the lake. + +“There’s our island,†he said gloatingly. + +Valancy looked—and looked—and looked again. There was a diaphanous, +lilac mist on the lake, shrouding the island. Through it the two +enormous pine-trees that clasped hands over Barney’s shack loomed out +like dark turrets. Behind them was a sky still rose-hued in the +afterlight, and a pale young moon. + +Valancy shivered like a tree the wind stirs suddenly. Something seemed +to sweep over her soul. + +“My Blue Castle!†she said. “Oh, my Blue Castle!†+ +They got into the canoe and paddled out to it. They left behind the +realm of everyday and things known and landed on a realm of mystery and +enchantment where anything might happen—anything might be true. Barney +lifted Valancy out of the canoe and swung her to a lichen-covered rock +under a young pine-tree. His arms were about her and suddenly his lips +were on hers. Valancy found herself shivering with the rapture of her +first kiss. + +“Welcome home, dear,†Barney was saying. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + + +Cousin Georgiana came down the lane leading up to her little house. She +lived half a mile out of Deerwood and she wanted to go in to Amelia’s +and find out if Doss had come home yet. Cousin Georgiana was anxious to +see Doss. She had something very important to tell her. Something, she +was sure, Doss would be delighted to hear. Poor Doss! She _had_ had +rather a dull life of it. Cousin Georgiana owned to herself that _she_ +would not like to live under Amelia’s thumb. But that would be all +changed now. Cousin Georgiana felt tremendously important. For the time +being, she quite forgot to wonder which of them would go next. + +And here was Doss herself, coming along the road from Roaring Abel’s in +such a queer green dress and hat. Talk about luck. Cousin Georgiana +would have a chance to impart her wonderful secret right away, with +nobody else about to interrupt. It was, you might say, a Providence. + +Valancy, who had been living for four days on her enchanted island, had +decided that she might as well go in to Deerwood and tell her relatives +that she was married. Otherwise, finding that she had disappeared from +Roaring Abel’s, they might get out a search warrant for her. Barney had +offered to drive her in, but she had preferred to go alone. She smiled +very radiantly at Cousin Georgiana, who, she remembered, as of some one +known a long time ago, had really been not a bad little creature. +Valancy was so happy that she could have smiled at anybody—even Uncle +James. She was not averse to Cousin Georgiana’s company. Already, since +the houses along the road were becoming numerous, she was conscious +that curious eyes were looking at her from every window. + +“I suppose you’re going home, dear Doss?†said Cousin Georgiana as she +shook hands—furtively eyeing Valancy’s dress and wondering if she had +_any_ petticoat on at all. + +“Sooner or later,†said Valancy cryptically. + +“Then I’ll go along with you. I’ve been wanting to see you very +especially, Doss dear. I’ve something quite _wonderful_ to tell you.†+ +“Yes?†said Valancy absently. What on earth was Cousin Georgiana +looking so mysterious and important about? But did it matter? No. +Nothing mattered but Barney and the Blue Castle up back in Mistawis. + +“Who do you suppose called to see me the other day?†asked Cousin +Georgiana archly. + +Valancy couldn’t guess. + +“Edward Beck.†Cousin Georgiana lowered her voice almost to a whisper. +“_Edward Beck_.†+ +Why the italics? And _was_ Cousin Georgiana blushing? + +“Who on earth is Edward Beck?†asked Valancy indifferently. + +Cousin Georgiana stared. + +“Surely you remember Edward Beck,†she said reproachfully. “He lives in +that lovely house on the Port Lawrence road and he comes to our +church—regularly. You _must_ remember him.†+ +“Oh, I think I do now,†said Valancy, with an effort of memory. “He’s +that old man with a wen on his forehead and dozens of children, who +always sits in the pew by the door, isn’t he?†+ +“Not dozens of children, dear—oh, no, not dozens. Not even _one_ dozen. +Only nine. At least only nine that count. The rest are dead. He isn’t +old—he’s only about forty-eight—the prime of life, Doss—and what does +it matter about a wen?†+ +“Nothing, of course,†agreed Valancy quite sincerely. It certainly did +not matter to her whether Edward Beck had a wen or a dozen wens or no +wen at all. But Valancy was getting vaguely suspicious. There was +certainly an air of suppressed triumph about Cousin Georgiana. Could it +be possible that Cousin Georgiana was thinking of marrying again? +Marrying Edward Beck? Absurd. Cousin Georgiana was sixty-five if she +were a day and her little anxious face was as closely covered with fine +wrinkles as if she had been a hundred. But still—— + +“My dear,†said Cousin Georgiana, “Edward Beck wants to marry _you_.†+ +Valancy stared at Cousin Georgiana for a moment. Then she wanted to go +off into a peal of laughter. But she only said: + +“Me?†+ +“Yes, you. He fell in love with you at the funeral. And he came to +consult me about it. I was such a friend of his first wife, you know. +He is very much in earnest, Dossie. And it’s a wonderful chance for +you. He’s very well off—and you know—you—you——†+ +“Am not so young as I once was,†agreed Valancy. “‘To her that hath +shall be given.’ Do you really think I would make a good stepmother, +Cousin Georgiana?†+ +“I’m sure you would. You were always so fond of children.†+ +“But nine is such a family to start with,†objected Valancy gravely. + +“The two oldest are grown up and the third almost. That leaves only six +that really count. And most of them are boys. So much easier to bring +up than girls. There’s an excellent book—‘Health Care of the Growing +Child’—Gladys has a copy, I think. It would be such a help to you. And +there are books about morals. You’d manage nicely. Of course I told Mr. +Beck that I thought you would—would——†+ +“Jump at him,†supplied Valancy. + +“Oh, no, no, dear. I wouldn’t use such an indelicate expression. I told +him I thought you would consider his proposal favourably. And you will, +won’t you, dearie?†+ +“There’s only one obstacle,†said Valancy dreamily. “You see, I’m +married already.†+ +“Married!†Cousin Georgiana stopped stock-still and stared at Valancy. +“Married!†+ +“Yes. I was married to Barney Snaith last Tuesday evening in Port +Lawrence.†+ +There was a convenient gate-post hard by. Cousin Georgiana took firm +hold of it. + +“Doss, dear—I’m an old woman—are you trying to make fun of me?†+ +“Not at all. I’m only telling you the truth. For heaven’s sake, Cousin +Georgiana,â€â€”Valancy was alarmed by certain symptoms—“don’t go crying +here on the public road!†+ +Cousin Georgiana choked back the tears and gave a little moan of +despair instead. + +“Oh, Doss, _what_ have you done? What _have_ you done?†+ +“I’ve just been telling you. I’ve got married,†said Valancy, calmly +and patiently. + +“To that—that—aw—that—_Barney Snaith_. Why, they say he’s had a dozen +wives already.†+ +“I’m the only one round at present,†said Valancy. + +“What will your poor mother say?†moaned Cousin Georgiana. + +“Come along with me and hear, if you want to know,†said Valancy. “I’m +on my way to tell her now.†+ +Cousin Georgiana let go the gate-post cautiously and found that she +could stand alone. She meekly trotted on beside Valancy—who suddenly +seemed quite a different person in her eyes. Cousin Georgiana had a +tremendous respect for a married woman. But it was terrible to think of +what the poor girl had done. So rash. So reckless. Of course Valancy +must be stark mad. But she seemed so happy in her madness that Cousin +Georgiana had a momentary conviction that it would be a pity if the +clan tried to scold her back to sanity. She had never seen that look in +Valancy’s eyes before. But what _would_ Amelia say? And Ben? + +“To marry a man you know nothing about,†thought Cousin Georgiana +aloud. + +“I know more about him than I know of Edward Beck,†said Valancy. + +“Edward Beck _goes to church_,†said Cousin Georgiana. “Does Bar—does +your husband?†+ +“He has promised that he will go with me on fine Sundays,†said +Valancy. + +When they turned in at the Stirling gate Valancy gave an exclamation of +surprise. + +“Look at my rosebush! Why, it’s blooming!†+ +It was. Covered with blossoms. Great, crimson, velvety blossoms. +Fragrant. Glowing. Wonderful. + +“My cutting it to pieces must have done it good,†said Valancy, +laughing. She gathered a handful of the blossoms—they would look well +on the supper-table of the verandah at Mistawis—and went, still +laughing, up the walk, conscious that Olive was standing on the steps, +Olive, goddess-like in loveliness, looking down with a slight frown on +her forehead. Olive, beautiful, insolent. Her full form voluptuous in +its swathings of rose silk and lace. Her golden-brown hair curling +richly under her big, white-frilled hat. Her colour ripe and melting. + +“Beautiful,†thought Valancy coolly, “butâ€â€”as if she suddenly saw her +cousin through new eyes—“without the slightest touch of distinction.†+ +So Valancy had come home, thank goodness, thought Olive. But Valancy +was not looking like a repentant, returned prodigal. This was the cause +of Olive’s frown. She was looking triumphant—graceless! That outlandish +dress—that queer hat—those hands full of blood-red roses. Yet there was +something about both dress and hat, as Olive instantly felt, that was +entirely lacking in her own attire. This deepened the frown. She put +out a condescending hand. + +“So you’re back, Doss? Very warm day, isn’t it? Did you walk in?†+ +“Yes. Coming in?†+ +“Oh, no. I’ve just been in. I’ve come often to comfort poor Aunty. +She’s been so lonesome. I’m going to Mrs. Bartlett’s tea. I have to +help pour. She’s giving it for her cousin from Toronto. Such a charming +girl. You’d have loved meeting her, Doss. I think Mrs. Bartlett did +send you a card. Perhaps you’ll drop in later on.†+ +“No, I don’t think so,†said Valancy indifferently. “I’ll have to be +home to get Barney’s supper. We’re going for a moonlit canoe ride +around Mistawis tonight.†+ +“Barney? Supper?†gasped Olive. “What _do_ you mean, Valancy Stirling?†+ +“Valancy Snaith, by the grace of God.†+ +Valancy flaunted her wedding-ring in Olive’s stricken face. Then she +nimbly stepped past her and into the house. Cousin Georgiana followed. +She would not miss a moment of the great scene, even though Olive did +look as if she were going to faint. + +Olive did not faint. She went stupidly down the street to Mrs. +Bartlett’s. _What_ did Doss mean? She couldn’t have—that ring—oh, what +fresh scandal was that wretched girl bringing on her defenceless family +now? She should have been—shut up—long ago. + +Valancy opened the sitting-room door and stepped unexpectedly right +into a grim assemblage of Stirlings. They had not come together of +malice prepense. Aunt Wellington and Cousin Gladys and Aunt Mildred and +Cousin Sarah had just called in on their way home from a meeting of the +missionary society. Uncle James had dropped in to give Amelia some +information regarding a doubtful investment. Uncle Benjamin had called, +apparently, to tell them it was a hot day and ask them what was the +difference between a bee and a donkey. Cousin Stickles had been +tactless enough to know the answer—“one gets all the honey, the other +all the whacksâ€â€”and Uncle Benjamin was in a bad humour. In all of their +minds, unexpressed, was the idea of finding out if Valancy had yet come +home, and, if not, what steps must be taken in the matter. + +Well, here was Valancy at last, a poised, confident thing, not humble +and deprecating as she should have been. And so oddly, improperly +young-looking. She stood in the doorway and looked at them, Cousin +Georgiana timorous, expectant, behind her. Valancy was so happy she +didn’t hate her people any more. She could even see a number of good +qualities in them that she had never seen before. And she was sorry for +them. Her pity made her quite gentle. + +“Well, Mother,†she said pleasantly. + +“So you’ve come home at last!†said Mrs. Frederick, getting out a +handkerchief. She dared not be outraged, but she did not mean to be +cheated of her tears. + +“Well, not exactly,†said Valancy. She threw her bomb. “I thought I +ought to drop in and tell you I was married. Last Tuesday night. To +Barney Snaith.†+ +Uncle Benjamin bounced up and sat down again. + +“God bless my soul!†he said dully. The rest seemed turned to stone. +Except Cousin Gladys, who turned faint. Aunt Mildred and Uncle +Wellington had to help her out to the kitchen. + +“She would have to keep up the Victorian traditions,†said Valancy, +with a grin. She sat down, uninvited, on a chair. Cousin Stickles had +begun to sob. + +“Is there _one_ day in your life that you haven’t cried?†asked Valancy +curiously. + +“Valancy,†said Uncle James, being the first to recover the power of +utterance, “did you mean what you said just now?†+ +“I did.†+ +“Do you mean to say that you have actually gone and +married—_married_—that notorious Barney +Snaith—that—that—criminal—that——†+ +“I have.†+ +“Then,†said Uncle James violently, “you are a shameless creature, lost +to all sense of propriety and virtue, and I wash my hands entirely of +you. I do not want ever to see your face again.†+ +“What have you left to say when I commit murder?†asked Valancy. + +Uncle Benjamin again appealed to God to bless his soul. + +“That drunken outlaw—that——†+ +A dangerous spark appeared in Valancy’s eyes. They might say what they +liked to and of her but they should not abuse Barney. + +“Say ‘damn’ and you’ll feel better,†she suggested. + +“I can express my feelings without blasphemy. And I tell you have +covered yourself with eternal disgrace and infamy by marrying that +drunkard——†+ +“_You_ would be more endurable if you got drunk occasionally. Barney is +_not_ a drunkard.†+ +“He was seen drunk in Port Lawrence—pickled to the gills,†said Uncle +Benjamin. + +“If that is true—and I don’t believe it—he had a good reason for it. +Now I suggest that you all stop looking tragic and accept the +situation. I’m married—you can’t undo that. And I’m perfectly happy.†+ +“I suppose we ought to be thankful he has really married her,†said +Cousin Sarah, by way of trying to look on the bright side. + +“If he really has,†said Uncle James, who had just washed his hands of +Valancy. “Who married you?†+ +“Mr. Towers, of Port Lawrence.†+ +“By a Free Methodist!†groaned Mrs. Frederick—as if to have been +married by an imprisoned Methodist would have been a shade less +disgraceful. It was the first thing she had said. Mrs. Frederick didn’t +know _what_ to say. The whole thing was too horrible—too nightmarish. +She was sure she must wake up soon. After all their bright hopes at the +funeral! + +“It makes me think of those what-d’ye-call-’ems,†said Uncle Benjamin +helplessly. “Those yarns—you know—of fairies taking babies out of their +cradles.†+ +“Valancy could hardly be a changeling at twenty-nine,†said Aunt +Wellington satirically. + +“She was the oddest-looking baby I ever saw, anyway,†averred Uncle +Benjamin. “I said so at the time—you remember, Amelia? I said I had +never seen such eyes in a human head.†+ +“I’m glad _I_ never had any children,†said Cousin Sarah. “If they +don’t break your heart in one way they do it in another.†+ +“Isn’t it better to have your heart broken than to have it wither up?†+queried Valancy. “Before it could be broken it must have felt something +splendid. _That_ would be worth the pain.†+ +“Dippy—clean dippy,†muttered Uncle Benjamin, with a vague, +unsatisfactory feeling that somebody had said something like that +before. + +“Valancy,†said Mrs. Frederick solemnly, “do you ever pray to be +forgiven for disobeying your mother?†+ +“I _should_ pray to be forgiven for obeying you so long,†said Valancy +stubbornly. “But I don’t pray about that at all. I just thank God every +day for my happiness.†+ +“I would rather,†said Mrs. Frederick, beginning to cry rather +belatedly, “see you dead before me than listen to what you have told me +today.†+ +Valancy looked at her mother and aunts, and wondered if they could ever +have known anything of the real meaning of love. She felt sorrier for +them than ever. They were so very pitiable. And they never suspected +it. + +“Barney Snaith is a scoundrel to have deluded you into marrying him,†+said Uncle James violently. + +“Oh, _I_ did the deluding. I asked _him_ to marry me,†said Valancy, +with a wicked smile. + +“Have you _no_ pride?†demanded Aunt Wellington. + +“Lots of it. I am proud that I have achieved a husband by my own +unaided efforts. Cousin Georgiana here wanted to help me to Edward +Beck.†+ +“Edward Beck is worth twenty thousand dollars and has the finest house +between here and Port Lawrence,†said Uncle Benjamin. + +“That sounds very fine,†said Valancy scornfully, “but it isn’t worth +_that_“—she snapped her fingers—“compared to feeling Barney’s arms +around me and his cheek against mine.†+ +“_Oh_, Doss!†said Cousin Stickles. Cousin Sarah said, “Oh, _Doss_!†+Aunt Wellington said, “Valancy, you need not be indecent.†+ +“Why, it surely isn’t indecent to like to have your husband put his arm +around you? I should think it would be indecent if you didn’t.†+ +“Why expect decency from her?†inquired Uncle James sarcastically. “She +has cut herself off from decency forevermore. She has made her bed. Let +her lie on it.†+ +“Thanks,†said Valancy very gratefully. “How you would have enjoyed +being Torquemada! Now, I must really be getting back. Mother, may I +have those three woollen cushions I worked last winter?†+ +“Take them—take everything!†said Mrs. Frederick. + +“Oh, I don’t want everything—or much. I don’t want my Blue Castle +cluttered. Just the cushions. I’ll call for them some day when we motor +in.†+ +Valancy rose and went to the door. There she turned. She was sorrier +than ever for them all. _They_ had no Blue Castle in the purple +solitudes of Mistawis. + +“The trouble with you people is that you don’t laugh enough,†she said. + +“Doss, dear,†said Cousin Georgiana mournfully, “some day you will +discover that blood is thicker than water.†+ +“Of course it is. But who wants water to be thick?†parried Valancy. +“We want water to be thin—sparkling—crystal-clear.†+ +Cousin Stickles groaned. + +Valancy would not ask any of them to come and see her—she was afraid +they _would_ come out of curiosity. But she said: + +“Do you mind if I drop in and see you once in a while, Mother?†+ +“My house will always be open to you,†said Mrs. Frederick, with a +mournful dignity. + +“You should never recognise her again,†said Uncle James sternly, as +the door closed behind Valancy. + +“I cannot quite forget that I am a mother,†said Mrs. Frederick. “My +poor, unfortunate girl!†+ +“I dare say the marriage isn’t legal,†said Uncle James comfortingly. +“He has probably been married half a dozen times before. But _I_ am +through with her. I have done all I could, Amelia. I think you will +admit that. Henceforthâ€â€”Uncle James was terribly solemn about +it—“Valancy is to me as one dead.†+ +“Mrs. Barney Snaith,†said Cousin Georgiana, as if trying it out to see +how it would sound. + +“He has a score of aliases, no doubt,†said Uncle Benjamin. “For my +part, I believe the man is half Indian. I haven’t a doubt they’re +living in a wigwam.†+ +“If he has married her under the name of Snaith and it isn’t his real +name wouldn’t that make the marriage null and void?†asked Cousin +Stickles hopefully. + +Uncle James shook his head. + +“No, it is the man who marries, not the name.†+ +“You know,†said Cousin Gladys, who had recovered and returned but was +still shaky, “I had a distinct premonition of this at Herbert’s silver +dinner. I remarked it at the time. When she was defending Snaith. You +remember, of course. It came over me like a revelation. I spoke to +David when I went home about it.†+ +“What—_what_,†demanded Aunt Wellington of the universe, “has come over +Valancy? _Valancy_!†+ +The universe did not answer but Uncle James did. + +“Isn’t there something coming up of late about secondary personalities +cropping out? I don’t hold with many of those new-fangled notions, but +there may be something in this one. It would account for her +incomprehensible conduct.†+ +“Valancy is so fond of mushrooms,†sighed Cousin Georgiana. “I’m afraid +she’ll get poisoned eating toadstools by mistake living up back in the +woods.†+ +“There are worse things than death,†said Uncle James, believing that +it was the first time in the world that such a statement had been made. + +“Nothing can ever be the same again!†sobbed Cousin Stickles. + +Valancy, hurrying along the dusty road, back to cool Mistawis and her +purple island, had forgotten all about them—just as she had forgotten +that she might drop dead at any moment if she hurried. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + + +Summer passed by. The Stirling clan—with the insignificant exception of +Cousin Georgiana—had tacitly agreed to follow Uncle James’ example and +look upon Valancy as one dead. To be sure, Valancy had an unquiet, +ghostly habit of recurring resurrections when she and Barney clattered +through Deerwood and out to the Port in that unspeakable car. Valancy, +bareheaded, with stars in her eyes. Barney, bareheaded, smoking his +pipe. But shaved. Always shaved now, if any of them had noticed it. +They even had the audacity to go in to Uncle Benjamin’s store to buy +groceries. Twice Uncle Benjamin ignored them. Was not Valancy one of +the dead? While Snaith had never existed. But the third time he told +Barney he was a scoundrel who should be hung for luring an unfortunate, +weak-minded girl away from her home and friends. + +Barney’s one straight eyebrow went up. + +“I have made her happy,†he said coolly, “and she was miserable with +her friends. So that’s that.†+ +Uncle Benjamin stared. It had never occurred to him that women had to +be, or ought to be, “made happy.†+ +“You—you pup!†he said. + +“Why be so unoriginal?†queried Barney amiably. “Anybody could call me +a pup. Why not think of something worthy of the Stirlings? Besides, I’m +not a pup. I’m really quite a middle-aged dog. Thirty-five, if you’re +interested in knowing.†+ +Uncle Benjamin remembered just in time that Valancy was dead. He turned +his back on Barney. + +Valancy _was_ happy—gloriously and entirely so. She seemed to be living +in a wonderful house of life and every day opened a new, mysterious +room. It was in a world which had nothing in common with the one she +had left behind—a world where time was not—which was young with +immortal youth—where there was neither past nor future but only the +present. She surrendered herself utterly to the charm of it. + +The absolute freedom of it all was unbelievable. They could do exactly +as they liked. No Mrs. Grundy. No traditions. No relatives. Or in-laws. +“Peace, perfect peace, with loved ones far away,†as Barney quoted +shamelessly. + +Valancy had gone home once and got her cushions. And Cousin Georgiana +had given her one of her famous candlewick spreads of most elaborate +design. “For your spare-room bed, dear,†she said. + +“But I haven’t got any spare-room,†said Valancy. + +Cousin Georgiana looked horrified. A house without a spare-room was +monstrous to her. + +“But it’s a lovely spread,†said Valancy, with a kiss, “and I’m so glad +to have it. I’ll put it on my own bed. Barney’s old patch-work quilt is +getting ragged.†+ +“I don’t see how you can be contented to live up back,†sighed Cousin +Georgiana. “It’s so out of the world.†+ +“Contented!†Valancy laughed. What was the use of trying to explain to +Cousin Georgiana. “It is,†she agreed, “most gloriously and entirely +out of the world.†+ +“And you are really happy, dear?†asked Cousin Georgiana wistfully. + +“I really am,†said Valancy gravely, her eyes dancing. + +“Marriage is such a serious thing,†sighed Cousin Georgiana. + +“When it’s going to last long,†agreed Valancy. + +Cousin Georgiana did not understand this at all. But it worried her and +she lay awake at nights wondering what Valancy meant by it. + +Valancy loved her Blue Castle and was completely satisfied with it. The +big living-room had three windows, all commanding exquisite views of +exquisite Mistawis. The one in the end of the room was an oriel +window—which Tom MacMurray, Barney explained, had got out of some +little, old “up back†church that had been sold. It faced the west and +when the sunsets flooded it Valancy’s whole being knelt in prayer as if +in some great cathedral. The new moons always looked down through it, +the lower pine boughs swayed about the top of it, and all through the +nights the soft, dim silver of the lake dreamed through it. + +There was a stone fireplace on the other side. No desecrating gas +imitation but a real fireplace where you could burn real logs. With a +big grizzly bearskin on the floor before it, and beside it a hideous, +red-plush sofa of Tom MacMurray’s régime. But its ugliness was hidden +by silver-grey timber wolf skins, and Valancy’s cushions made it gay +and comfortable. In a corner a nice, tall, lazy old clock ticked—the +right kind of a clock. One that did not hurry the hours away but ticked +them off deliberately. It was the jolliest looking old clock. A fat, +corpulent clock with a great, round, man’s face painted on it, the +hands stretching out of its nose and the hours encircling it like a +halo. + +There was a big glass case of stuffed owls and several deer +heads—likewise of Tom MacMurray’s vintage. Some comfortable old chairs +that asked to be sat upon. A squat little chair with a cushion was +prescriptively Banjo’s. If anybody else dared sit on it Banjo glared +him out of it with his topaz-hued, black-ringed eyes. Banjo had an +adorable habit of hanging over the back of it, trying to catch his own +tail. Losing his temper because he couldn’t catch it. Giving it a +fierce bite for spite when he _did_ catch it. Yowling malignantly with +pain. Barney and Valancy laughed at him until they ached. But it was +Good Luck they loved. They were both agreed that Good Luck was so +lovable that he practically amounted to an obsession. + +One side of the wall was lined with rough, homemade book-shelves filled +with books, and between the two side windows hung an old mirror in a +faded gilt frame, with fat cupids gamboling in the panel over the +glass. A mirror, Valancy thought, that must be like the fabled mirror +into which Venus had once looked and which thereafter reflected as +beautiful every woman who looked into it. Valancy thought she was +almost pretty in that mirror. But that may have been because she had +shingled her hair. + +This was before the day of bobs and was regarded as a wild, unheard-of +proceeding—unless you had typhoid. When Mrs. Frederick heard of it she +almost decided to erase Valancy’s name from the family Bible. Barney +cut the hair, square off at the back of Valancy’s neck, bringing it +down in a short black fringe over her forehead. It gave a meaning and a +purpose to her little, three-cornered face that it never had possessed +before. Even her nose ceased to irritate her. Her eyes were bright, and +her sallow skin had cleared to the hue of creamy ivory. The old family +joke had come true—she was really fat at last—anyway, no longer skinny. +Valancy might never be beautiful, but she was of the type that looks +its best in the woods—elfin—mocking—alluring. + +Her heart bothered her very little. When an attack threatened she was +generally able to head it off with Dr. Trent’s prescription. The only +bad one she had was one night when she was temporarily out of medicine. +And it _was_ a bad one. For the time being, Valancy realised keenly +that death was actually waiting to pounce on her any moment. But the +rest of the time she would not—did not—let herself remember it at all. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + + +Valancy toiled not, neither did she spin. There was really very little +work to do. She cooked their meals on a coal-oil stove, performing all +her little domestic rites carefully and exultingly, and they ate out on +the verandah that almost overhung the lake. Before them lay Mistawis, +like a scene out of some fairy tale of old time. And Barney smiling his +twisted, enigmatical smile at her across the table. + +“What a view old Tom picked out when he built this shack!†Barney would +say exultantly. + +Supper was the meal Valancy liked best. The faint laughter of winds was +always about them and the colours of Mistawis, imperial and spiritual, +under the changing clouds were something that cannot be expressed in +mere words. Shadows, too. Clustering in the pines until a wind shook +them out and pursued them over Mistawis. They lay all day along the +shores, threaded by ferns and wild blossoms. They stole around the +headlands in the glow of the sunset, until twilight wove them all into +one great web of dusk. + +The cats, with their wise, innocent little faces, would sit on the +verandah railing and eat the tidbits Barney flung them. And how good +everything tasted! Valancy, amid all the romance of Mistawis, never +forgot that men had stomachs. Barney paid her no end of compliments on +her cooking. + +“After all,†he admitted, “there’s something to be said for square +meals. I’ve mostly got along by boiling two or three dozen eggs hard at +once and eating a few when I got hungry, with a slice of bacon once in +a while and a jorum of tea.†+ +Valancy poured tea out of Barney’s little battered old pewter teapot of +incredible age. She had not even a set of dishes—only Barney’s +mismatched chipped bits—and a dear, big, pobby old jug of robin’s-egg +blue. + +After the meal was over they would sit there and talk for hours—or sit +and say nothing, in all the languages of the world, Barney pulling away +at his pipe, Valancy dreaming idly and deliciously, gazing at the +far-off hills beyond Mistawis where the spires of firs came out against +the sunset. The moonlight would begin to silver the Mistawis dusk. Bats +would begin to swoop darkly against the pale, western gold. The little +waterfall that came down on the high bank not far away would, by some +whim of the wildwood gods, begin to look like a wonderful white woman +beckoning through the spicy, fragrant evergreens. And Leander would +begin to chuckle diabolically on the mainland shore. How sweet it was +to sit there and do nothing in the beautiful silence, with Barney at +the other side of the table, smoking! + +There were plenty of other islands in sight, though none were near +enough to be troublesome as neighbours. There was one little group of +islets far off to the west which they called the Fortunate Isles. At +sunrise they looked like a cluster of emeralds, at sunset like a +cluster of amethysts. They were too small for houses; but the lights on +the larger islands would bloom out all over the lake, and bonfires +would be lighted on their shores, streaming up into the wood shadows +and throwing great, blood-red ribbons over the waters. Music would +drift to them alluringly from boats here and there, or from the +verandahs on the big house of the millionaire on the biggest island. + +“Would you like a house like that, Moonlight?†Barney asked once, +waving his hand at it. He had taken to calling her Moonlight, and +Valancy loved it. + +“No,†said Valancy, who had once dreamed of a mountain castle ten times +the size of the rich man’s “cottage†and now pitied the poor +inhabitants of palaces. “No. It’s too elegant. I would have to carry it +with me everywhere I went. On my back like a snail. It would own +me—possess me, body and soul. I like a house I can love and cuddle and +boss. Just like ours here. I don’t envy Hamilton Gossard ‘the finest +summer residence in Canada.’ It is magnificent, but it isn’t my Blue +Castle.†+ +Away down at the far end of the lake they got every night a glimpse of +a big, continental train rushing through a clearing. Valancy liked to +watch its lighted windows flash by and wonder who was on it and what +hopes and fears it carried. She also amused herself by picturing Barney +and herself going to the dances and dinners in the houses on the +islands, but she did not want to go in reality. Once they did go to a +masquerade dance in the pavilion at one of the hotels up the lake, and +had a glorious evening, but slipped away in their canoe, before +unmasking time, back to the Blue Castle. + +“It was lovely—but I don’t want to go again,†said Valancy. + +So many hours a day Barney shut himself up in Bluebeard’s Chamber. +Valancy never saw the inside of it. From the smells that filtered +through at times she concluded he must be conducting chemical +experiments—or counterfeiting money. Valancy supposed there must be +smelly processes in making counterfeit money. But she did not trouble +herself about it. She had no desire to peer into the locked chambers of +Barney’s house of life. His past and his future concerned her not. Only +this rapturous present. Nothing else mattered. + +Once he went away and stayed away two days and nights. He had asked +Valancy if she would be afraid to stay alone and she had said she would +not. He never told her where he had been. She was not afraid to be +alone, but she was horribly lonely. The sweetest sound she had ever +heard was Lady Jane’s clatter through the woods when Barney returned. +And then his signal whistle from the shore. She ran down to the landing +rock to greet him—to nestle herself into his eager arms—they _did_ seem +eager. + +“Have you missed me, Moonlight?†Barney was whispering. + +“It seems a hundred years since you went away,†said Valancy. + +“I won’t leave you again.†+ +“You must,†protested Valancy, “if you want to. I’d be miserable if I +thought you wanted to go and didn’t, because of me. I want you to feel +perfectly free.†+ +Barney laughed—a little cynically. + +“There is no such thing as freedom on earth,†he said. “Only different +kinds of bondages. And comparative bondages. _You_ think you are free +now because you’ve escaped from a peculiarly unbearable kind of +bondage. But are you? You love me—_that’s_ a bondage.†+ +“Who said or wrote that ‘the prison unto which we doom ourselves no +prison is’?†asked Valancy dreamily, clinging to his arm as they +climbed up the rock steps. + +“Ah, now you have it,†said Barney. “That’s all the freedom we can hope +for—the freedom to choose our prison. But, Moonlight,â€â€”he stopped at +the door of the Blue Castle and looked about him—at the glorious lake, +the great, shadowy woods, the bonfires, the twinkling +lights—“Moonlight, I’m glad to be home again. When I came down through +the woods and saw my home lights—mine—gleaming out under the old +pines—something I’d never seen before—oh, girl, I was glad—glad!†+ +But in spite of Barney’s doctrine of bondage, Valancy thought they were +splendidly free. It was amazing to be able to sit up half the night and +look at the moon if you wanted to. To be late for meals if you wanted +to—she who had always been rebuked so sharply by her mother and so +reproachfully by Cousin Stickles if she were one minute late. Dawdle +over meals as long as you wanted to. Leave your crusts if you wanted +to. Not come home at all for meals if you wanted to. Sit on a sun-warm +rock and paddle your bare feet in the hot sand if you wanted to. Just +sit and do nothing in the beautiful silence if you wanted to. In short, +do any fool thing you wanted to whenever the notion took you. If _that_ +wasn’t freedom, what was? + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + + +They didn’t spend all their days on the island. They spent more than +half of them wandering at will through the enchanted Muskoka country. +Barney knew the woods as a book and he taught their lore and craft to +Valancy. He could always find trail and haunt of the shy wood people. +Valancy learned the different fairy-likenesses of the mosses—the charm +and exquisiteness of woodland blossoms. She learned to know every bird +at sight and mimic its call—though never so perfectly as Barney. She +made friends with every kind of tree. She learned to paddle a canoe as +well as Barney himself. She liked to be out in the rain and she never +caught cold. + +Sometimes they took a lunch with them and went berrying—strawberries +and blueberries. How pretty blueberries were—the dainty green of the +unripe berries, the glossy pinks and scarlets of the half ripes, the +misty blue of the fully matured! And Valancy learned the real flavour +of the strawberry in its highest perfection. There was a certain sunlit +dell on the banks of Mistawis along which white birches grew on one +side and on the other still, changeless ranks of young spruces. There +were long grasses at the roots of the birches, combed down by the winds +and wet with morning dew late into the afternoons. Here they found +berries that might have graced the banquets of Lucullus, great +ambrosial sweetnesses hanging like rubies to long, rosy stalks. They +lifted them by the stalk and ate them from it, uncrushed and virgin, +tasting each berry by itself with all its wild fragrance ensphered +therein. When Valancy carried any of these berries home that elusive +essence escaped and they became nothing more than the common berries of +the market-place—very kitchenly good indeed, but not as they would have +been, eaten in their birch dell until her fingers were stained as pink +as Aurora’s eyelids. + +Or they went after water-lilies. Barney knew where to find them in the +creeks and bays of Mistawis. Then the Blue Castle was glorious with +them, every receptacle that Valancy could contrive filled with the +exquisite things. If not water lilies then cardinal flowers, fresh and +vivid from the swamps of Mistawis, where they burned like ribbons of +flame. + +Sometimes they went trouting on little nameless rivers or hidden brooks +on whose banks Naiads might have sunned their white, wet limbs. Then +all they took with them were some raw potatoes and salt. They roasted +the potatoes over a fire and Barney showed Valancy how to cook the +trout by wrapping them in leaves, coating them with mud and baking them +in a bed of hot coals. Never were such delicious meals. Valancy had +such an appetite it was no wonder she put flesh on her bones. + +Or they just prowled and explored through woods that always seemed to +be expecting something wonderful to happen. At least, that was the way +Valancy felt about them. Down the next hollow—over the next hill—you +would find it. + +“We don’t know where we’re going, but isn’t it fun to go?†Barney used +to say. + +Once or twice night overtook them, too far from their Blue Castle to +get back. But Barney made a fragrant bed of bracken and fir boughs and +they slept on it dreamlessly, under a ceiling of old spruces with moss +hanging from them, while beyond them moonlight and the murmur of pines +blended together so that one could hardly tell which was light and +which was sound. + +There were rainy days, of course, when Muskoka was a wet green land. +Days when showers drifted across Mistawis like pale ghosts of rain and +they never thought of staying in because of it. Days when it rained in +right good earnest and they had to stay in. Then Barney shut himself up +in Bluebeard’s Chamber and Valancy read, or dreamed on the wolfskins +with Good Luck purring beside her and Banjo watching them suspiciously +from his own peculiar chair. On Sunday evenings they paddled across to +a point of land and walked from there through the woods to the little +Free Methodist church. One felt really too happy for Sunday. Valancy +had never really liked Sundays before. + +And always, Sundays and weekdays, she was with Barney. Nothing else +really mattered. And what a companion he was! How understanding! How +jolly! How—how Barney-like! That summed it all up. + +Valancy had taken some of her two hundred dollars out of the bank and +spent it in pretty clothes. She had a little smoke-blue chiffon which +she always put on when they spent the evening at home—smoke-blue with +touches of silver about it. It was after she began wearing it that +Barney began calling her Moonlight. + +“Moonlight and blue twilight—that is what you look like in that dress. +I like it. It belongs to you. You aren’t exactly pretty, but you have +some adorable beauty-spots. Your eyes. And that little kissable dent +just between your collar bones. You have the wrist and ankle of an +aristocrat. That little head of yours is beautifully shaped. And when +you look backward over your shoulder you’re maddening—especially in +twilight or moonlight. An elf maiden. A wood sprite. You belong to the +woods, Moonlight—you should never be out of them. In spite of your +ancestry, there is something wild and remote and untamed about you. And +you have such a nice, sweet, throaty, summery voice. Such a nice voice +for love-making.†+ +“Shure an’ ye’ve kissed the Blarney Stone,†scoffed Valancy. But she +tasted these compliments for weeks. + +She got a pale green bathing-suit, too—a garment which would have given +her clan their deaths if they had ever seen her in it. Barney taught +her how to swim. Sometimes she put her bathing-dress on when she got up +and didn’t take it off until she went to bed—running down to the water +for a plunge whenever she felt like it and sprawling on the sun-warm +rocks to dry. + +She had forgotten all the old humiliating things that used to come up +against her in the night—the injustices and the disappointments. It was +as if they had all happened to some other person—not to her, Valancy +Snaith, who had always been happy. + +“I understand now what it means to be born again,†she told Barney. + +Holmes speaks of grief “staining backward†through the pages of life; +but Valancy found her happiness had stained backward likewise and +flooded with rose-colour her whole previous drab existence. She found +it hard to believe that she had ever been lonely and unhappy and +afraid. + +“When death comes, I shall have lived,†thought Valancy. “I shall have +had my hour.†+ +And her dust-pile! + +One day Valancy had heaped up the sand in the little island cove in a +tremendous cone and stuck a gay little Union Jack on top of it. + +“What are you celebrating?†Barney wanted to know. + +“I’m just exorcising an old demon,†Valancy told him. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + + +Autumn came. Late September with cool nights. They had to forsake the +verandah; but they kindled a fire in the big fireplace and sat before +it with jest and laughter. They left the doors open, and Banjo and Good +Luck came and went at pleasure. Sometimes they sat gravely on the +bearskin rug between Barney and Valancy; sometimes they slunk off into +the mystery of the chill night outside. The stars smouldered in the +horizon mists through the old oriel. The haunting, persistent croon of +the pine-trees filled the air. The little waves began to make soft, +sobbing splashes on the rocks below them in the rising winds. They +needed no light but the firelight that sometimes leaped up and revealed +them—sometimes shrouded them in shadow. When the night wind rose higher +Barney would shut the door and light a lamp and read to her—poetry and +essays and gorgeous, dim chronicles of ancient wars. Barney never would +read novels: he vowed they bored him. But sometimes she read them +herself, curled up on the wolf skins, laughing aloud in peace. For +Barney was not one of those aggravating people who can never hear you +smiling audibly over something you’ve read without inquiring placidly, +“What is the joke?†+ +October—with a gorgeous pageant of color around Mistawis, into which +Valancy plunged her soul. Never had she imagined anything so splendid. +A great, tinted peace. Blue, wind-winnowed skies. Sunlight sleeping in +the glades of that fairyland. Long dreamy purple days paddling idly in +their canoe along shores and up the rivers of crimson and gold. A +sleepy, red hunter’s moon. Enchanted tempests that stripped the leaves +from the trees and heaped them along the shores. Flying shadows of +clouds. What had all the smug, opulent lands out front to compare with +this? + +November—with uncanny witchery in its changed trees. With murky red +sunsets flaming in smoky crimson behind the westering hills. With dear +days when the austere woods were beautiful and gracious in a dignified +serenity of folded hands and closed eyes—days full of a fine, pale +sunshine that sifted through the late, leafless gold of the +juniper-trees and glimmered among the grey beeches, lighting up +evergreen banks of moss and washing the colonnades of the pines. Days +with a high-sprung sky of flawless turquoise. Days when an exquisite +melancholy seemed to hang over the landscape and dream about the lake. +But days, too, of the wild blackness of great autumn storms, followed +by dank, wet, streaming nights when there was witch-laughter in the +pines and fitful moans among the mainland trees. What cared they? Old +Tom had built his roof well, and his chimney drew. + +“Warm fire—books—comfort—safety from storm—our cats on the rug. +Moonlight,†said Barney, “would you be any happier now if you had a +million dollars?†+ +“No—nor half so happy. I’d be bored by conventions and obligations +then.†+ +December. Early snows and Orion. The pale fires of the Milky Way. It +was really winter now—wonderful, cold, starry winter. How Valancy had +always hated winter! Dull, brief, uneventful days. Long, cold, +companionless nights. Cousin Stickles with her back that had to be +rubbed continually. Cousin Stickles making weird noises gargling her +throat in the mornings. Cousin Stickles whining over the price of coal. +Her mother, probing, questioning, ignoring. Endless colds and +bronchitis—or the dread of it. Redfern’s Liniment and Purple Pills. + +But now she loved winter. Winter was beautiful “up backâ€â€”almost +intolerably beautiful. Days of clear brilliance. Evenings that were +like cups of glamour—the purest vintage of winter’s wine. Nights with +their fire of stars. Cold, exquisite winter sunrises. Lovely ferns of +ice all over the windows of the Blue Castle. Moonlight on birches in a +silver thaw. Ragged shadows on windy evenings—torn, twisted, fantastic +shadows. Great silences, austere and searching. Jewelled, barbaric +hills. The sun suddenly breaking through grey clouds over long, white +Mistawis. Icy-grey twilights, broken by snow-squalls, when their cosy +living-room, with its goblins of firelight and inscrutable cats seemed +cosier than ever. Every hour brought a new revelation and wonder. + +Barney ran Lady Jane into Roaring Abel’s barn and taught Valancy how to +snowshoe—Valancy, who ought to be laid up with bronchitis. But Valancy +had not even a cold. Later on in the winter Barney had a terrible one +and Valancy nursed him through it with a dread of pneumonia in her +heart. But Valancy’s colds seemed to have gone where old moons go. +Which was luck—for she hadn’t even Redfern’s Liniment. She had +thoughtfully bought a bottle at the Port and Barney had hurled it into +frozen Mistawis with a scowl. + +“Bring no more of that devilish stuff here,†he had ordered briefly. It +was the first and last time he had spoken harshly to her. + +They went for long tramps through the exquisite reticence of winter +woods and the silver jungles of frosted trees, and found loveliness +everywhere. + +At times they seemed to be walking through a spellbound world of +crystal and pearl, so white and radiant were clearings and lakes and +sky. The air was so crisp and clear that it was half intoxicating. + +Once they stood in a hesitation of ecstasy at the entrance of a narrow +path between ranks of birches. Every twig and spray was outlined in +snow. The undergrowth along its sides was a little fairy forest cut out +of marble. The shadows cast by the pale sunshine were fine and +spiritual. + +“Come away,†said Barney, turning. “We must not commit the desecration +of tramping through there.†+ +One evening they came upon a snowdrift far back in an old clearing +which was in the exact likeness of a beautiful woman’s profile. Seen +too close by, the resemblance was lost, as in the fairy-tale of the +Castle of St. John. Seen from behind, it was a shapeless oddity. But at +just the right distance and angle the outline was so perfect that when +they came suddenly upon it, gleaming out against the dark background of +spruce in the glow of that winter sunset they both exclaimed in +amazement. There was a low, noble brow, a straight, classic nose, lips +and chin and cheek-curve modelled as if some goddess of old time had +sat to the sculptor, and a breast of such cold, swelling purity as the +very spirit of the winter woods might display. + +“‘All the beauty that old Greece and Rome, sung painted, taught,’†+quoted Barney. + +“And to think no human eyes save ours have seen or will see it,†+breathed Valancy, who felt at times as if she were living in a book by +John Foster. As she looked around her she recalled some passages she +had marked in the new Foster book Barney had brought her from the +Port—with an adjuration not to expect _him_ to read or listen to it. + +“‘All the tintings of winter woods are extremely delicate and +elusive,’†recalled Valancy. “‘When the brief afternoon wanes and the +sun just touches the tops of the hills, there seems to be all over the +woods an abundance, not of colour, but of the spirit of colour. There +is really nothing but pure white after all, but one has the impression +of fairy-like blendings of rose and violet, opal and heliotrope on the +slopes—in the dingles and along the curves of the forest-land. You feel +sure the tint is there, but when you look at it directly it is gone. +From the corner of your eye you are aware that it is lurking over +yonder in a spot where there was nothing but pale purity a moment ago. +Only just when the sun is setting is there a fleeting moment of real +colour. Then the redness streams out over the snow and incarnadines the +hills and rivers and smites the crest of the pines with flame. Just a +few minutes of transfiguration and revelation—and it is gone.’ + +“I wonder if John Foster ever spent a winter in Mistawis,†said +Valancy. + +“Not likely,†scoffed Barney. “People who write tosh like that +generally write it in a warm house on some smug city street.†+ +“You are too hard on John Foster,†said Valancy severely. “No one could +have written that little paragraph I read you last night without having +seen it first—you know he couldn’t.†+ +“I didn’t listen to it,†said Barney morosely. “You know I told you I +wouldn’t.†+ +“Then you’ve got to listen to it now,†persisted Valancy. She made him +stand still on his snowshoes while she repeated it. + +“‘She is a rare artist, this old Mother Nature, who works “for the joy +of working†and not in any spirit of vain show. Today the fir woods are +a symphony of greens and greys, so subtle that you cannot tell where +one shade begins to be the other. Grey trunk, green bough, grey-green +moss above the white, grey-shadowed floor. Yet the old gypsy doesn’t +like unrelieved monotones. She must have a dash of colour. See it. A +broken dead fir bough, of a beautiful red-brown, swinging among the +beards of moss.’†+ +“Good Lord, do you learn all that fellow’s books by heart?†was +Barney’s disgusted reaction as he strode off. + +“John Foster’s books were all that saved my soul alive the past five +years,†averred Valancy. “Oh, Barney, look at that exquisite filigree +of snow in the furrows of that old elm-tree trunk.†+ +When they came out to the lake they changed from snowshoes to skates +and skated home. For a wonder Valancy had learned, when she was a +little schoolgirl, to skate on the pond behind the Deerwood school. She +never had any skates of her own, but some of the other girls had lent +her theirs and she seemed to have a natural knack of it. Uncle Benjamin +had once promised her a pair of skates for Christmas, but when +Christmas came he had given her rubbers instead. She had never skated +since she grew up, but the old trick came back quickly, and glorious +were the hours she and Barney spent skimming over the white lakes and +past the dark islands where the summer cottages were closed and silent. +Tonight they flew down Mistawis before the wind, in an exhilaration +that crimsoned Valancy’s cheeks under her white tam. And at the end was +her dear little house, on the island of pines, with a coating of snow +on its roof, sparkling in the moonlight. Its windows glinted impishly +at her in the stay gleams. + +“Looks exactly like a picture-book, doesn’t it?†said Barney. + +They had a lovely Christmas. No rush. No scramble. No niggling attempts +to make ends meet. No wild effort to remember whether she hadn’t given +the same kind of present to the same person two Christmases before—no +mob of last-minute shoppers—no dreary family “reunions†where she sat +mute and unimportant—no attacks of “nerves.†They decorated the Blue +Castle with pine boughs, and Valancy made delightful little tinsel +stars and hung them up amid the greenery. She cooked a dinner to which +Barney did full justice, while Good Luck and Banjo picked the bones. + +“A land that can produce a goose like that is an admirable land,†vowed +Barney. “Canada forever!†And they drank to the Union Jack a bottle of +dandelion wine that Cousin Georgiana had given Valancy along with the +bedspread. + +“One never knows,†Cousin Georgiana had said solemnly, “when one may +need a little stimulant.†+ +Barney had asked Valancy what she wanted for a Christmas present. + +“Something frivolous and unnecessary,†said Valancy, who had got a pair +of goloshes last Christmas and two long-sleeved, woolen undervests the +year before. And so on back. + +To her delight, Barney gave her a necklace of pearl beads. Valancy had +wanted a string of milky pearl beads—like congealed moonshine—all her +life. And these were so pretty. All that worried her was that they were +really too good. They must have cost a great deal—fifteen dollars, at +least. Could Barney afford that? She didn’t know a thing about his +finances. She had refused to let him buy any of her clothes—she had +enough for that, she told him, as long as she would need clothes. In a +round, black jar on the chimney-piece Barney put money for their +household expenses—always enough. The jar was never empty, though +Valancy never caught him replenishing it. He couldn’t have much, of +course, and that necklace—but Valancy tossed care aside. She would wear +it and enjoy it. It was the first pretty thing she had ever had. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII + + +New Year. The old, shabby, inglorious outlived calendar came down. The +new one went up. January was a month of storms. It snowed for three +weeks on end. The thermometer went miles below zero and stayed there. +But, as Barney and Valancy pointed out to each other, there were no +mosquitoes. And the roar and crackle of their big fire drowned the +howls of the north wind. Good Luck and Banjo waxed fat and developed +resplendent coats of thick, silky fur. Nip and Tuck had gone. + +“But they’ll come back in spring,†promised Barney. + +There was no monotony. Sometimes they had dramatic little private spats +that never even thought of becoming quarrels. Sometimes Roaring Abel +dropped in—for an evening or a whole day—with his old tartan cap and +his long red beard coated with snow. He generally brought his fiddle +and played for them, to the delight of all except Banjo, who would go +temporarily insane and retreat under Valancy’s bed. Sometimes Abel and +Barney talked while Valancy made candy for them; sometimes they sat and +smoked in silence _à la_ Tennyson and Carlyle, until the Blue Castle +reeked and Valancy fled to the open. Sometimes they played checkers +fiercely and silently the whole night through. Sometimes they all ate +the russet apples Abel had brought, while the jolly old clock ticked +the delightful minutes away. + +“A plate of apples, an open fire, and ‘a jolly goode booke whereon to +looke’ are a fair substitute for heaven,†vowed Barney. “Any one can +have the streets of gold. Let’s have another whack at Carman.†+ +It was easier now for the Stirlings to believe Valancy of the dead. Not +even dim rumours of her having been over at the Port came to trouble +them, though she and Barney used to skate there occasionally to see a +movie and eat hot dogs shamelessly at the corner stand afterwards. +Presumably none of the Stirlings ever thought about her—except Cousin +Georgiana, who used to lie awake worrying about poor Doss. Did she have +enough to eat? Was that dreadful creature good to her? Was she warm +enough at nights? + +Valancy was quite warm at nights. She used to wake up and revel +silently in the cosiness of those winter nights on that little island +in the frozen lake. The nights of other winters had been so cold and +long. Valancy hated to wake up in them and think about the bleakness +and emptiness of the day that had passed and the bleakness and +emptiness of the day that would come. Now, she almost counted that +night lost on which she didn’t wake up and lie awake for half an hour +just being happy, while Barney’s regular breathing went on beside her, +and through the open door the smouldering brands in the fireplace +winked at her in the gloom. It was very nice to feel a little Lucky cat +jump up on your bed in the darkness and snuggle down at your feet, +purring; but Banjo would be sitting dourly by himself out in front of +the fire like a brooding demon. At such moments Banjo was anything but +canny, but Valancy loved his uncanniness. + +The side of the bed had to be right against the window. There was no +other place for it in the tiny room. Valancy, lying there, could look +out of the window, through the big pine boughs that actually touched +it, away up Mistawis, white and lustrous as a pavement of pearl, or +dark and terrible in the storm. Sometimes the pine boughs tapped +against the panes with friendly signals. Sometimes she heard the little +hissing whisper of snow against them right at her side. Some nights the +whole outer world seemed given over to the empery of silence; then came +nights when there would be a majestic sweep of wind in the pines; +nights of dear starlight when it whistled freakishly and joyously +around the Blue Castle; brooding nights before storm when it crept +along the floor of the lake with a low, wailing cry of boding and +mystery. Valancy wasted many perfectly good sleeping hours in these +delightful communings. But she could sleep as long in the morning as +she wanted to. Nobody cared. Barney cooked his own breakfast of bacon +and eggs and then shut himself up in Bluebeard’s Chamber till supper +time. Then they had an evening of reading and talk. They talked about +everything in this world and a good many things in other worlds. They +laughed over their own jokes until the Blue Castles re-echoed. + +“You _do_ laugh beautifully,†Barney told her once. “It makes me want +to laugh just to hear you laugh. There’s a trick about your laugh—as if +there were so much more fun back of it that you wouldn’t let out. Did +you laugh like that before you came to Mistawis, Moonlight?†+ +“I never laughed at all—really. I used to giggle foolishly when I felt +I was expected to. But now—the laugh just comes.†+ +It struck Valancy more than once that Barney himself laughed a great +deal oftener than he used to and that his laugh had changed. It had +become wholesome. She rarely heard the little cynical note in it now. +Could a man laugh like that who had crimes on his conscience? Yet +Barney _must_ have done something. Valancy had indifferently made up +her mind as to what he had done. She concluded he was a defaulting bank +cashier. She had found in one of Barney’s books an old clipping cut +from a Montreal paper in which a vanished, defaulting cashier was +described. The description applied to Barney—as well as to half a dozen +other men Valancy knew—and from some casual remarks he had dropped from +time to time she concluded he knew Montreal rather well. Valancy had it +all figured out in the back of her mind. Barney had been in a bank. He +was tempted to take some money to speculate—meaning, of course, to put +it back. He had got in deeper and deeper, until he found there was +nothing for it but flight. It had happened so to scores of men. He had, +Valancy was absolutely certain, never meant to do wrong. Of course, the +name of the man in the clipping was Bernard Craig. But Valancy had +always thought Snaith was an alias. Not that it mattered. + +Valancy had only one unhappy night that winter. It came in late March +when most of the snow had gone and Nip and Tuck had returned. Barney +had gone off in the afternoon for a long, woodland tramp, saying he +would be back by dark if all went well. Soon after he had gone it had +begun to snow. The wind rose and presently Mistawis was in the grip of +one of the worst storms of the winter. It tore up the lake and struck +at the little house. The dark angry woods on the mainland scowled at +Valancy, menace in the toss of their boughs, threats in their windy +gloom, terror in the roar of their hearts. The trees on the island +crouched in fear. Valancy spent the night huddled on the rug before the +fire, her face buried in her hands, when she was not vainly peering +from the oriel in a futile effort to see through the furious smoke of +wind and snow that had once been blue-dimpled Mistawis. Where was +Barney? Lost on the merciless lakes? Sinking exhausted in the drifts of +the pathless woods? Valancy died a hundred deaths that night and paid +in full for all the happiness of her Blue Castle. When morning came the +storm broke and cleared; the sun shone gloriously over Mistawis; and at +noon Barney came home. Valancy saw him from the oriel as he came around +a wooded point, slender and black against the glistening white world. +She did not run to meet him. Something happened to her knees and she +dropped down on Banjo’s chair. Luckily Banjo got out from under in +time, his whiskers bristling with indignation. Barney found her there, +her head buried in her hands. + +“Barney, I thought you were dead,†she whispered. + +Barney hooted. + +“After two years of the Klondike did you think a baby storm like this +could get me? I spent the night in that old lumber shanty over by +Muskoka. A bit cold but snug enough. Little goose! Your eyes look like +burnt holes in a blanket. Did you sit up here all night worrying over +an old woodsman like me?†+ +“Yes,†said Valancy. “I—couldn’t help it. The storm seemed so wild. +Anybody might have been lost in it. When—I saw you—come round the +point—there—something happened to me. I don’t know what. It was as if I +had died and come back to life. I can’t describe it any other way.†+ + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII + + +Spring. Mistawis black and sullen for a week or two, then flaming in +sapphire and turquoise, lilac and rose again, laughing through the +oriel, caressing its amethyst islands, rippling under winds soft as +silk. Frogs, little green wizards of swamp and pool, singing everywhere +in the long twilights and long into the nights; islands fairy-like in a +green haze; the evanescent beauty of wild young trees in early leaf; +frost-like loveliness of the new foliage of juniper-trees; the woods +putting on a fashion of spring flowers, dainty, spiritual things akin +to the soul of the wilderness; red mist on the maples; willows decked +out with glossy silver pussies; all the forgotten violets of Mistawis +blooming again; lure of April moons. + +“Think how many thousands of springs have been here on Mistawis—and all +of them beautiful,†said Valancy. “Oh, Barney, look at that wild plum! +I will—I must quote from John Foster. There’s a passage in one of his +books—I’ve re-read it a hundred times. He must have written it before a +tree just like that: + +“‘Behold the young wild plum-tree which has adorned herself after +immemorial fashion in a wedding-veil of fine lace. The fingers of wood +pixies must have woven it, for nothing like it ever came from an +earthly loom. I vow the tree is conscious of its loveliness. It is +bridling before our very eyes—as if its beauty were not the most +ephemeral thing in the woods, as it is the rarest and most exceeding, +for today it is and tomorrow it is not. Every south wind purring +through the boughs will winnow away a shower of slender petals. But +what matter? Today it is queen of the wild places and it is always +today in the woods.’†+ +“I’m sure you feel much better since you’ve got that out of your +system,†said Barney heartlessly. + +“Here’s a patch of dandelions,†said Valancy, unsubdued. “Dandelions +shouldn’t grow in the woods, though. They haven’t any sense of the +fitness of things at all. They are too cheerful and self-satisfied. +They haven’t any of the mystery and reserve of the real wood-flowers.†+ +“In short, they’ve no secrets,†said Barney. “But wait a bit. The woods +will have their own way even with those obvious dandelions. In a little +while all that obtrusive yellowness and complacency will be gone and +we’ll find here misty, phantom-like globes hovering over those long +grasses in full harmony with the traditions of the forest.†+ +“That sounds John Fosterish,†teased Valancy. + +“What have I done that deserved a slam like that?†complained Barney. + +One of the earliest signs of spring was the renaissance of Lady Jane. +Barney put her on roads that no other car would look at, and they went +through Deerwood in mud to the axles. They passed several Stirlings, +who groaned and reflected that now spring was come they would encounter +that shameless pair everywhere. Valancy, prowling about Deerwood shops, +met Uncle Benjamin on the street; but he did not realise until he had +gone two blocks further on that the girl in the scarlet-collared +blanket coat, with cheeks reddened in the sharp April air and the +fringe of black hair over laughing, slanted eyes, was Valancy. When he +did realise it, Uncle Benjamin was indignant. What business had Valancy +to look like—like—like a young girl? The way of the transgressor was +hard. Had to be. Scriptural and proper. Yet Valancy’s path couldn’t be +hard. She wouldn’t look like that if it were. There was something +wrong. It was almost enough to make a man turn modernist. + +Barney and Valancy clanged on to the Port, so that it was dark when +they went through Deerwood again. At her old home Valancy, seized with +a sudden impulse, got out, opened the little gate and tiptoed around to +the sitting-room window. There sat her mother and Cousin Stickles +drearily, grimly knitting. Baffling and inhuman as ever. If they had +looked the least bit lonesome Valancy would have gone in. But they did +not. Valancy would not disturb them for worlds. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV + + +Valancy had two wonderful moments that spring. + +One day, coming home through the woods, with her arms full of trailing +arbutus and creeping spruce, she met a man who she knew must be Allan +Tierney. Allan Tierney, the celebrated painter of beautiful women. He +lived in New York in winter, but he owned an island cottage at the +northern end of Mistawis to which he always came the minute the ice was +out of the lake. He was reputed to be a lonely, eccentric man. He never +flattered his sitters. There was no need to, for he would not paint any +one who required flattery. To be painted by Allan Tierney was all the +_cachet_ of beauty a woman could desire. Valancy had heard so much +about him that she couldn’t help turning her head back over her +shoulder for another shy, curious look at him. A shaft of pale spring +sunlight fell through a great pine athwart her bare black head and her +slanted eyes. She wore a pale green sweater and had bound a fillet of +linnæa vine about her hair. The feathery fountain of trailing spruce +overflowed her arms and fell around her. Allan Tierney’s eyes lighted +up. + +“I’ve had a caller,†said Barney the next afternoon, when Valancy had +returned from another flower quest. + +“Who?†Valancy was surprised but indifferent. She began filling a +basket with arbutus. + +“Allan Tierney. He wants to paint you, Moonlight.†+ +“Me!†Valancy dropped her basket and her arbutus. “You’re laughing at +me, Barney.†+ +“I’m not. That’s what Tierney came for. To ask my permission to paint +my wife—as the Spirit of Muskoka, or something like that.†+ +“But—but—†stammered Valancy, “Allan Tierney never paints any but—any +but——†+ +“Beautiful women,†finished Barney. “Conceded. Q. E. D., Mistress +Barney Snaith is a beautiful woman.†+ +“Nonsense,†said Valancy, stooping to retrieve her arbutus. “You _know_ +that’s nonsense, Barney. I know I’m a heap better-looking than I was a +year ago, but I’m not beautiful.†+ +“Allan Tierney never makes a mistake,†said Barney. “You forget, +Moonlight, that there are different kinds of beauty. Your imagination +is obsessed by the very obvious type of your cousin Olive. Oh, I’ve +seen her—she’s a stunner—but you’d never catch Allan Tierney wanting to +paint her. In the horrible but expressive slang phrase, she keeps all +her goods in the shop-window. But in your subconscious mind you have a +conviction that nobody can be beautiful who doesn’t look like Olive. +Also, you remember your face as it was in the days when your soul was +not allowed to shine through it. Tierney said something about the curve +of your cheek as you looked back over your shoulder. You know I’ve +often told you it was distracting. And he’s quite batty about your +eyes. If I wasn’t absolutely sure it was solely professional—he’s +really a crabbed old bachelor, you know—I’d be jealous.†+ +“Well, I don’t want to be painted,†said Valancy. “I hope you told him +that.†+ +“I couldn’t tell him that. I didn’t know what _you_ wanted. But I told +him _I_ didn’t want my wife painted—hung up in a salon for the mob to +stare at. Belonging to another man. For of course I couldn’t buy the +picture. So even if you had wanted to be painted, Moonlight, your +tyrannous husband would not have permitted it. Tierney was a bit +squiffy. He isn’t used to being turned down like that. His requests are +almost like royalty’s.†+ +“But we are outlaws,†laughed Valancy. “We bow to no decrees—we +acknowledge no sovereignty.†+ +In her heart she thought unashamedly: + +“I wish Olive could know that Allan Tierney wanted to paint me. _Me_! +Little-old-maid-Valancy-Stirling-that-was.†+ +Her second wonder-moment came one evening in May. She realised that +Barney actually liked her. She had always hoped he did, but sometimes +she had a little, disagreeable, haunting dread that he was just kind +and nice and chummy out of pity; knowing that she hadn’t long to live +and determined she should have a good time as long as she did live; but +away back in his mind rather looking forward to freedom again, with no +intrusive woman creature in his island fastness and no chattering thing +beside him in his woodland prowls. She knew he could never love her. +She did not even want him to. If he loved her he would be unhappy when +she died—Valancy never flinched from the plain word. No “passing away†+for her. And she did not want him to be the least unhappy. But neither +did she want him to be glad—or relieved. She wanted him to like her and +miss her as a good chum. But she had never been sure until this night +that he did. + +They had walked over the hills in the sunset. They had the delight of +discovering a virgin spring in a ferny hollow and had drunk together +from it out of a birch-bark cup; they had come to an old tumble-down +rail fence and sat on it for a long time. They didn’t talk much, but +Valancy had a curious sense of _oneness_. She knew that she couldn’t +have felt that if he hadn’t liked her. + +“You nice little thing,†said Barney suddenly. “Oh, you nice little +thing! Sometimes I feel you’re too nice to be real—that I’m just +dreaming you.†+ +“Why can’t I die now—this very minute—when I am so happy!†thought +Valancy. + +Well, it couldn’t be so very long now. Somehow, Valancy had always felt +she would live out the year Dr. Trent had allotted. She had not been +careful—she had never tried to be. But, somehow, she had always counted +on living out her year. She had not let herself think about it at all. +But now, sitting here beside Barney, with her hand in his, a sudden +realisation came to her. She had not had a heart attack for a long +while—two months at least. The last one she had had was two or three +nights before Barney was out in the storm. Since then she had not +remembered she had a heart. Well, no doubt, it betokened the nearness +of the end. Nature had given up the struggle. There would be no more +pain. + +“I’m afraid heaven will be very dull after this past year,†thought +Valancy. “But perhaps one will not remember. Would that be—nice? No, +no. I don’t want to forget Barney. I’d rather be miserable in heaven +remembering him than happy forgetting him. And I’ll always remember +through all eternity—that he really, _really_ liked me.†+ + + + +CHAPTER XXXV + + +Thirty seconds can be very long sometimes. Long enough to work a +miracle or a revolution. In thirty seconds life changed wholly for +Barney and Valancy Snaith. + +They had gone around the lake one June evening in their disappearing +propeller, fished for an hour in a little creek, left their boat there, +and walked up through the woods to Port Lawrence two miles away. +Valancy prowled a bit in the shops and got herself a new pair of +sensible shoes. Her old pair had suddenly and completely given out, and +this evening she had been compelled to put on the little fancy pair of +patent-leather with rather high, slender heels, which she had bought in +a fit of folly one day in the winter because of their beauty and +because she wanted to make one foolish, extravagant purchase in her +life. She sometimes put them on of an evening in the Blue Castle, but +this was the first time she had worn them outside. She had not found it +any too easy walking up through the woods in them, and Barney guyed her +unmercifully about them. But in spite of the inconvenience, Valancy +secretly rather liked the look of her trim ankles and high instep above +those pretty, foolish shoes and did not change them in the shop as she +might have done. + +The sun was hanging low above the pines when they left Port Lawrence. +To the north of it the woods closed around the town quite suddenly. +Valancy always had a sense of stepping from one world to another—from +reality to fairyland—when she went out of Port Lawrence and in a +twinkling found it shut off behind her by the armies of the pines. + +A mile and a half from Port Lawrence there was a small railroad station +with a little station-house which at this hour of the day was deserted, +since no local train was due. Not a soul was in sight when Barney and +Valancy emerged from the woods. Off to the left a sudden curve in the +track hid it from view, but over the tree-tops beyond, the long plume +of smoke betokened the approach of a through train. The rails were +vibrating to its thunder as Barney stepped across the switch. Valancy +was a few steps behind him, loitering to gather June-bells along the +little, winding path. But there was plenty of time to get across before +the train came. She stepped unconcernedly over the first rail. + +She could never tell how it happened. The ensuing thirty seconds always +seemed in her recollection like a chaotic nightmare in which she +endured the agony of a thousand lifetimes. + +The heel of her pretty, foolish shoe caught in a crevice of the switch. +She could not pull it loose. + +“Barney—Barney!†she called in alarm. + +Barney turned—saw her predicament—saw her ashen face—dashed back. He +tried to pull her clear—he tried to wrench her foot from the prisoning +hold. In vain. In a moment the train would sweep around the curve—would +be on them. + +“Go—go—quick—you’ll be killed, Barney!†shrieked Valancy, trying to +push him away. + +Barney dropped on his knees, ghost-white, frantically tearing at her +shoe-lace. The knot defied his trembling fingers. He snatched a knife +from his pocket and slashed at it. Valancy still strove blindly to push +him away. Her mind was full of the hideous thought that Barney was +going to be killed. She had no thought for her own danger. + +“Barney—go—go—for God’s sake—go!†+ +“Never!†muttered Barney between his set teeth. He gave one mad wrench +at the lace. As the train thundered around the curve he sprang up and +caught Valancy—dragging her clear, leaving the shoe behind her. The +wind from the train as it swept by turned to icy cold the streaming +perspiration on his face. + +“Thank God!†he breathed. + +For a moment they stood stupidly staring at each other, two white, +shaken, wild-eyed creatures. Then they stumbled over to the little seat +at the end of the station-house and dropped on it. Barney buried his +face in his hands and said not a word. Valancy sat, staring straight +ahead of her with unseeing eyes at the great pine woods, the stumps of +the clearing, the long, gleaming rails. There was only one thought in +her dazed mind—a thought that seemed to burn it as a shaving of fire +might burn her body. + +Dr. Trent had told her over a year ago that she had a serious form of +heart-disease—that any excitement might be fatal. + +If that were so, why was she not dead now? This very minute? She had +just experienced as much and as terrible excitement as most people +experience in a lifetime, crowded into that endless thirty seconds. Yet +she had not died of it. She was not an iota the worse for it. A little +wobbly at the knees, as any one would have been; a quicker heart-beat, +as any one would have; nothing more. + +Why! + +_Was it possible Dr. Trent had made a mistake?_ + +Valancy shivered as if a cold wind had suddenly chilled her to the +soul. She looked at Barney, hunched up beside her. His silence was very +eloquent. Had the same thought occurred to him? Did he suddenly find +himself confronted by the appalling suspicion that he was married, not +for a few months or a year, but for good and all to a woman he did not +love and who had foisted herself upon him by some trick or lie? Valancy +turned sick before the horror of it. It could not be. It would be too +cruel—too devilish. Dr. Trent _couldn’t_ have made a mistake. +Impossible. He was one of the best heart specialists in Ontario. She +was foolish—unnerved by the recent horror. She remembered some of the +hideous spasms of pain she had had. There must be something serious the +matter with her heart to account for them. + +But she had not had any for nearly three months. + +Why? + +Presently Barney bestirred himself. He stood up, without looking at +Valancy, and said casually: + +“I suppose we’d better be hiking back. Sun’s getting low. Are you good +for the rest of the road?†+ +“I think so,†said Valancy miserably. + +Barney went across the clearing and picked up the parcel he had +dropped—the parcel containing her new shoes. He brought it to her and +let her take out the shoes and put them on without any assistance, +while he stood with his back to her and looked out over the pines. + +They walked in silence down the shadowy trail to the lake. In silence +Barney steered his boat into the sunset miracle that was Mistawis. In +silence they went around feathery headlands and across coral bays and +silver rivers where canoes were slipping up and down in the afterglow. +In silence they went past cottages echoing with music and laughter. In +silence drew up at the landing-place below the Blue Castle. + +Valancy went up the rock steps and into the house. She dropped +miserably on the first chair she came to and sat there staring through +the oriel, oblivious of Good Luck’s frantic purrs of joy and Banjo’s +savage glares of protest at her occupancy of his chair. + +Barney came in a few minutes later. He did not come near her, but he +stood behind her and asked gently if she felt any the worse for her +experience. Valancy would have given her year of happiness to have been +able honestly to answer “Yes.†+ +“No,†she said flatly. + +Barney went into Bluebeard’s Chamber and shut the door. She heard him +pacing up and down—up and down. He had never paced like that before. + +And an hour ago—only an hour ago—she had been so happy! + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI + + +Finally Valancy went to bed. Before she went she re-read Dr. Trent’s +letter. It comforted her a little. So positive. So assured. The writing +so black and steady. Not the writing of a man who didn’t know what he +was writing about. But she could not sleep. She pretended to be asleep +when Barney came in. Barney pretended to go to sleep. But Valancy knew +perfectly well he wasn’t sleeping any more than she was. She knew he +was lying there, staring through the darkness. Thinking of what? Trying +to face—what? + +Valancy, who had spent so many happy wakeful hours of night lying by +that window, now paid the price of them all in this one night of +misery. A horrible, portentous fact was slowly looming out before her +from the nebula of surmise and fear. She could not shut her eyes to +it—push it away—ignore it. + +There could be nothing seriously wrong with her heart, no matter what +Dr. Trent had said. If there had been, those thirty seconds would have +killed her. It was no use to recall Dr. Trent’s letter and reputation. +The greatest specialists made mistakes sometimes. Dr. Trent had made +one. + +Towards morning Valancy fell into a fitful dose with ridiculous dreams. +One of them was of Barney taunting her with having tricked him. In her +dream she lost her temper and struck him violently on the head with her +rolling-pin. He proved to be made of glass and shivered into splinters +all over the floor. She woke with a cry of horror—a gasp of relief—a +short laugh over the absurdity of her dream—a miserable sickening +recollection of what had happened. + +Barney was gone. Valancy knew, as people sometimes know +things—inescapably, without being told—that he was not in the house or +in Bluebeard’s Chamber either. There was a curious silence in the +living-room. A silence with something uncanny about it. The old clock +had stopped. Barney must have forgotten to wind it up, something he had +never done before. The room without it was dead, though the sunshine +streamed in through the oriel and dimples of light from the dancing +waves beyond quivered over the walls. + +The canoe was gone but Lady Jane was under the mainland trees. So +Barney had betaken himself to the wilds. He would not return till +night—perhaps not even then. He must be angry with her. That furious +silence of his must mean anger—cold, deep, justifiable resentment. +Well, Valancy knew what she must do first. She was not suffering very +keenly now. Yet the curious numbness that pervaded her being was in a +way worse than pain. It was as if something in her had died. She forced +herself to cook and eat a little breakfast. Mechanically she put the +Blue Castle in perfect order. Then she put on her hat and coat, locked +the door and hid the key in the hollow of the old pine and crossed to +the mainland in the motor boat. She was going into Deerwood to see Dr. +Trent. She must _know_. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII + + +Dr. Trent looked at her blankly and fumbled among his recollections. + +“Er—Miss—Miss—†+ +“Mrs. Snaith,†said Valancy quietly. “I was Miss Valancy Stirling when +I came to you last May—over a year ago. I wanted to consult you about +my heart.†+ +Dr. Trent’s face cleared. + +“Oh, of course. I remember now. I’m really not to blame for not knowing +you. You’ve changed—splendidly. And married. Well, well, it has agreed +with you. You don’t look much like an invalid now, hey? I remember that +day. I was badly upset. Hearing about poor Ned bowled me over. But +Ned’s as good as new and you, too, evidently. I told you so, you +know—told you there was nothing to worry over.†+ +Valancy looked at him. + +“You told me, in your letter,†she said slowly, with a curious feeling +that some one else was talking through her lips, “that I had angina +pectoris—in the last stages—complicated with an aneurism. That I might +die any minute—that I couldn’t live longer than a year.†+ +Dr. Trent stared at her. + +“Impossible!†he said blankly. “I couldn’t have told you that!†+ +Valancy took his letter from her bag and handed it to him. + +“Miss Valancy Stirling,†he read. “Yes—yes. Of course I wrote you—on +the train—that night. But I _told_ you there was nothing serious——†+ +“Read your letter,†insisted Valancy. + +Dr. Trent took it out—unfolded it—glanced over it. A dismayed look came +into his face. He jumped to his feet and strode agitatedly about the +room. + +“Good heavens! This is the letter I meant for old Miss Jane Sterling. +From Port Lawrence. She was here that day, too. I sent you the wrong +letter. What unpardonable carelessness! But I was beside myself that +night. My God, and you believed that—you believed—but you didn’t—you +went to another doctor——†+ +Valancy stood up, turned round, looked foolishly about her and sat down +again. + +“I believed it,†she said faintly. “I didn’t go to any other doctor. +I—I—it would take too long to explain. But I believed I was going to +die soon.†+ +Dr. Trent halted before her. + +“I can never forgive myself. What a year you must have had! But you +don’t look—I can’t understand!†+ +“Never mind,†said Valancy dully. “And so there’s nothing the matter +with my heart?†+ +“Well, nothing serious. You had what is called pseudo-angina. It’s +never fatal—passes away completely with proper treatment. Or sometimes +with a shock of joy. Have you been troubled much with it?†+ +“Not at all since March,†answered Valancy. She remembered the +marvellous feeling of re-creation she had had when she saw Barney +coming home safe after the storm. Had that “shock of joy†cured her? + +“Then likely you’re all right. I told you what to do in the letter you +should have got. _And_ of course I supposed you’d go to another doctor. +Child, why didn’t you?†+ +“I didn’t want anybody to know.†+ +“Idiot,†said Dr. Trent bluntly. “I can’t understand such folly. And +poor old Miss Sterling. She must have got your letter—telling her there +was nothing serious the matter. Well, well, it couldn’t have made any +difference. Her case was hopeless. Nothing that she could have done or +left undone could have made any difference. I was surprised she lived +as long as she did—two months. She was here that day—not long before +you. I hated to tell her the truth. You think I’m a blunt old +curmudgeon—and my letters _are_ blunt enough. I can’t soften things. +But I’m a snivelling coward when it comes to telling a woman face to +face that she’s got to die soon. I told her I’d look up some features +of the case I wasn’t quite sure of and let her know next day. But you +got her letter—look here, ‘Dear Miss S-t-_e_-r-l-i-n-g.’†+ +“Yes. I noticed that. But I thought it a mistake. I didn’t know there +were any Sterlings in Port Lawrence.†+ +“She was the only one. A lonely old soul. Lived by herself with only a +little home girl. She died two months after she was here—died in her +sleep. My mistake couldn’t have made any difference to her. But you! I +can’t forgive myself for inflicting a year’s misery on you. It’s time I +retired, all right, when I do things like that—even if my son was +supposed to be fatally injured. Can you ever forgive me?†+ +A year of misery! Valancy smiled a tortured smile as she thought of all +the happiness Dr. Trent’s mistake had bought her. But she was paying +for it now—oh, she was paying. If to feel was to live she was living +with a vengeance. + +She let Dr. Trent examine her and answered all his questions. When he +told her she was fit as a fiddle and would probably live to be a +hundred, she got up and went away silently. She knew that there were a +great many horrible things outside waiting to be thought over. Dr. +Trent thought she was odd. Anybody would have thought, from her +hopeless eyes and woebegone face, that he had given her a sentence of +death instead of life. Snaith? Snaith? Who the devil had she married? +He had never heard of Snaiths in Deerwood. And she had been such a +sallow, faded, little old maid. Gad, but marriage _had_ made a +difference in her, anyhow, whoever Snaith was. Snaith? Dr. Trent +remembered. That rapscallion “up back!†Had Valancy Stirling married +_him_? And her clan had let her! Well, probably that solved the +mystery. She had married in haste and repented at leisure, and that was +why she wasn’t overjoyed at learning she was a good insurance prospect, +after all. Married! To God knew whom! Or what! Jail-bird? Defaulter? +Fugitive from justice? It must be pretty bad if she had looked to death +as a release, poor girl. But why were women such fools? Dr. Trent +dismissed Valancy from his mind, though to the day of his death he was +ashamed of putting those letters into the wrong envelopes. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII + + +Valancy walked quickly through the back streets and through Lover’s +Lane. She did not want to meet any one she knew. She didn’t want to +meet even people she didn’t know. She hated to be seen. Her mind was so +confused, so torn, so messy. She felt that her appearance must be the +same. She drew a sobbing breath of relief as she left the village +behind and found herself on the “up back†road. There was little fear +of meeting any one she knew here. The cars that fled by her with +raucous shrieks were filled with strangers. One of them was packed with +young people who whirled past her singing uproariously: + +“My wife has the fever, O then, +My wife has the fever, O then, +My wife has the fever, +Oh, I hope it won’t leave her, +For I want to be single again.†+ + +Valancy flinched as if one of them had leaned from the car and cut her +across the face with a whip. + +She had made a covenant with death and death had cheated her. Now life +stood mocking her. She had trapped Barney. Trapped him into marrying +her. And divorce was so hard to get in Ontario. So expensive. And +Barney was poor. + +With life, fear had come back into her heart. Sickening fear. Fear of +what Barney would think. Would say. Fear of the future that must be +lived without him. Fear of her insulted, repudiated clan. + +She had had one draught from a divine cup and now it was dashed from +her lips. With no kind, friendly death to rescue her. She must go on +living and longing for it. Everything was spoiled, smirched, defaced. +Even that year in the Blue Castle. Even her unashamed love for Barney. +It had been beautiful because death waited. Now it was only sordid +because death was gone. How could any one bear an unbearable thing? + +She must go back and tell him. Make him believe she had not meant to +trick him—she _must_ make him believe that. She must say good-bye to +her Blue Castle and return to the brick house on Elm Street. Back to +everything she had thought left behind forever. The old bondage—the old +fears. But that did not matter. All that mattered now was that Barney +must somehow be made to believe she had not consciously tricked him. + +When Valancy reached the pines by the lake she was brought out of her +daze of pain by a startling sight. There, parked by the side of old, +battered ragged Lady Jane, was another car. A wonderful car. A purple +car. Not a dark, royal purple but a blatant, screaming purple. It shone +like a mirror and its interior plainly indicated the car caste of Vere +de Vere. On the driver’s seat sat a haughty chauffeur in livery. And in +the tonneau sat a man who opened the door and bounced out nimbly as +Valancy came down the path to the landing-place. He stood under the +pines waiting for her and Valancy took in every detail of him. + +A stout, short, pudgy man, with a broad, rubicund, good-humoured face—a +clean-shaven face, though an unparalysed little imp at the back of +Valancy’s paralysed mind suggested the thought, “Such a face should +have a fringe of white whisker around it.†Old-fashioned, steel-rimmed +spectacles on prominent blue eyes. A pursey mouth; a little round, +knobby nose. Where—where—where, groped Valancy, had she seen that face +before? It seemed as familiar to her as her own. + +The stranger wore a green hat and a light fawn overcoat over a suit of +a loud check pattern. His tie was a brilliant green of lighter shade; +on the plump hand he outstretched to intercept Valancy an enormous +diamond winked at her. But he had a pleasant, fatherly smile, and in +his hearty, unmodulated voice was a ring of something that attracted +her. + +“Can you tell me, Miss, if that house yonder belongs to a Mr. Redfern? +And if so, how can I get to it?†+ +Redfern! A vision of bottles seemed to dance before Valancy’s eyes—long +bottles of bitters—round bottles of hair tonic—square bottles of +liniment—short, corpulent little bottles of purple pills—and all of +them bearing that very prosperous, beaming moon-face and steel-rimmed +spectacles on the label. + +Dr. Redfern! + +“No,†said Valancy faintly. “No—that house belongs to Mr. Snaith.†+ +Dr. Redfern nodded. + +“Yes, I understand Bernie’s been calling himself Snaith. Well, it’s his +middle name—was his poor mother’s. Bernard Snaith Redfern—that’s him. +And now, Miss, you can tell me how to get over to that island? Nobody +seems to be home there. I’ve done some waving and yelling. Henry, +there, wouldn’t yell. He’s a one-job man. But old Doc Redfern can yell +with the best of them yet, and ain’t above doing it. Raised nothing but +a couple of crows. Guess Bernie’s out for the day.†+ +“He was away when I left this morning,†said Valancy. “I suppose he +hasn’t come home yet.†+ +She spoke flatly and tonelessly. This last shock had temporarily bereft +her of whatever little power of reasoning had been left her by Dr. +Trent’s revelation. In the back of her mind the aforesaid little imp +was jeeringly repeating a silly old proverb, “It never rains but it +pours.†But she was not trying to think. What was the use? + +Dr. Redfern was gazing at her in perplexity. + +“When you left this morning? Do you live—over there?†+ +He waved his diamond at the Blue Castle. + +“Of course,†said Valancy stupidly. “I’m his wife.†+ +Dr. Redfern took out a yellow silk handkerchief, removed his hat and +mopped his brow. He was very bald, and Valancy’s imp whispered, “Why be +bald? Why lose your manly beauty? Try Redfern’s Hair Vigor. It keeps +you young.†+ +“Excuse me,†said Dr. Redfern. “This is a bit of a shock.†+ +“Shocks seem to be in the air this morning.†The imp said this out loud +before Valancy could prevent it. + +“I didn’t know Bernie was—married. I didn’t think he _would_ have got +married without telling his old dad.†+ +Were Dr. Redfern’s eyes misty? Amid her own dull ache of misery and +fear and dread, Valancy felt a pang of pity for him. + +“Don’t blame him,†she said hurriedly. “It—it wasn’t his fault. It—was +all my doing.†+ +“You didn’t ask him to marry you, I suppose,†twinkled Dr. Redfern. “He +might have let me know. I’d have got acquainted with my daughter-in-law +before this if he had. But I’m glad to meet you now, my dear—very glad. +You look like a sensible young woman. I used to sorter fear Barney’d +pick out some pretty bit of fluff just because she was good-looking. +They were all after him, of course. Wanted his money? Eh? Didn’t like +the pills and the bitters but liked the dollars. Eh? Wanted to dip +their pretty little fingers in old Doc’s millions. Eh?†+ +“Millions!†said Valancy faintly. She wished she could sit down +somewhere—she wished she could have a chance to think—she wished she +and the Blue Castle could sink to the bottom of Mistawis and vanish +from human sight forevermore. + +“Millions,†said Dr. Redfern complacently. “And Bernie chucks them +for—that.†Again he shook the diamond contemptuously at the Blue +Castle. “Wouldn’t you think he’d have more sense? And all on account of +a white bit of a girl. He must have got over _that_ feeling, anyhow, +since he’s married. You must persuade him to come back to civilisation. +All nonsense wasting his life like this. Ain’t you going to take me +over to your house, my dear? I suppose you’ve some way of getting +there.†+ +“Of course,†said Valancy stupidly. She led the way down to the little +cove where the disappearing propeller boat was snuggled. + +“Does your—your man want to come, too?†+ +“Who? Henry. Not he. Look at him sitting there disapproving. +Disapproves of the whole expedition. The trail up from the road nearly +gave him a conniption. Well, it _was_ a devilish road to put a car on. +Whose old bus is that up there?†+ +“Barney’s.†+ +“Good Lord! Does Bernie Redfern ride in a thing like that? It looks +like the great-great-grand-mother of all the Fords.†+ +“It isn’t a Ford. It’s a Grey Slosson,†said Valancy spiritedly. For +some occult reason, Dr. Redfern’s good-humoured ridicule of dear old +Lady Jane stung her to life. A life that was all pain but still _life_. +Better than the horrible half-dead-and-half-aliveness of the past few +minutes—or years. She waved Dr. Redfern curtly into the boat and took +him over to the Blue Castle. The key was still in the old pine—the +house still silent and deserted. Valancy took the doctor through the +living-room to the western verandah. She must at least be out where +there was air. It was still sunny, but in the southwest a great +thundercloud, with white crests and gorges of purple shadow, was slowly +rising over Mistawis. The doctor dropped with a gasp on a rustic chair +and mopped his brow again. + +“Warm, eh? Lord, what a view! Wonder if it would soften Henry if he +could see it.†+ +“Have you had dinner?†asked Valancy. + +“Yes, my dear—had it before we left Port Lawrence. Didn’t know what +sort of wild hermit’s hollow we were coming to, you see. Hadn’t any +idea I was going to find a nice little daughter-in-law here all ready +to toss me up a meal. Cats, eh? Puss, puss! See that. Cats love me. +Bernie was always fond of cats! It’s about the only thing he took from +me. He’s his poor mother’s boy.†+ +Valancy had been thinking idly that Barney must resemble his mother. +She had remained standing by the steps, but Dr. Redfern waved her to +the swing seat. + +“Sit down, dear. Never stand when you can sit. I want to get a good +look at Barney’s wife. Well, well, I like your face. No beauty—you +don’t mind my saying that—you’ve sense enough to know it, I reckon. Sit +down.†+ +Valancy sat down. To be obliged to sit still when mental agony urges us +to stride up and down is the refinement of torture. Every nerve in her +being was crying out to be alone—to be hidden. But she had to sit and +listen to Dr. Redfern, who didn’t mind talking at all. + +“When do you think Bernie will be back?†+ +“I don’t know—not before night probably.†+ +“Where did he go?†+ +“I don’t know that either. Likely to the woods—up back.†+ +“So he doesn’t tell you his comings and goings, either? Bernie was +always a secretive young devil. Never understood him. Just like his +poor mother. But I thought a lot of him. It hurt me when he disappeared +as he did. Eleven years ago. I haven’t seen my boy for eleven years.†+ +“Eleven years.†Valancy was surprised. “It’s only six since he came +here.†+ +“Oh, he was in the Klondike before that—and all over the world. He used +to drop me a line now and then—never give any clue to where he was but +just a line to say he was all right. I s’pose he’s told you all about +it.†+ +“No. I know nothing of his past life,†said Valancy with sudden +eagerness. She wanted to know—she must know now. It hadn’t mattered +before. Now she must know all. And she could never hear it from Barney. +She might never even see him again. If she did, it would not be to talk +of his past. + +“What happened? Why did he leave his home? Tell me. Tell me.†+ +“Well, it ain’t much of a story. Just a young fool gone mad because of +a quarrel with his girl. Only Bernie was a stubborn fool. Always +stubborn. You never could make that boy do anything he didn’t want to +do. From the day he was born. Yet he was always a quiet, gentle little +chap, too. Good as gold. His poor mother died when he was only two +years old. I’d just begun to make money with my Hair Vigor. I’d dreamed +the formula for it, you see. Some dream that. The cash rolled in. +Bernie had everything he wanted. I sent him to the best schools—private +schools. I meant to make a gentleman of him. Never had any chance +myself. Meant he should have every chance. He went through McGill. Got +honours and all that. I wanted him to go in for law. He hankered after +journalism and stuff like that. Wanted me to buy a paper for him—or +back him in publishing what he called a ‘real, worthwhile, +honest-to-goodness Canadian Magazine.’ I s’pose I’d have done it—I +always did what he wanted me to do. Wasn’t he all I had to live for? I +wanted him to be happy. And he never was happy. Can you believe it? Not +that he said so. But I’d always a feeling that he wasn’t happy. +Everything he wanted—all the money he could spend—his own bank +account—travel—seeing the world—but he wasn’t happy. Not till he fell +in love with Ethel Traverse. Then he was happy for a little while.†+ +The cloud had reached the sun and a great, chill, purple shadow came +swiftly over Mistawis. It touched the Blue Castle—rolled over it. +Valancy shivered. + +“Yes,†she said, with painful eagerness, though every word was cutting +her to the heart. “What—was—she—like?†+ +“Prettiest girl in Montreal,†said Dr. Redfern. “Oh, she was a looker, +all right. Eh? Gold hair—shiny as silk—great, big, soft, black +eyes—skin like milk and roses. Don’t wonder Bernie fell for her. And +brains as well. _She_ wasn’t a bit of fluff. B. A. from McGill. A +thoroughbred, too. One of the best families. But a bit lean in the +purse. Eh! Bernie was mad about her. Happiest young fool you ever saw. +Then—the bust-up.†+ +“What happened?†Valancy had taken off her hat and was absently +thrusting a pin in and out of it. Good Luck was purring beside her. +Banjo was regarding Dr. Redfern with suspicion. Nip and Tuck were +lazily cawing in the pines. Mistawis was beckoning. Everything was the +same. Nothing was the same. It was a hundred years since yesterday. +Yesterday, at this time, she and Barney had been eating a belated +dinner here with laughter. Laughter? Valancy felt that she had done +with laughter forever. And with tears, for that matter. She had no +further use for either of them. + +“Blest if I know, my dear. Some fool quarrel, I suppose. Bernie just +lit out—disappeared. He wrote me from the Yukon. Said his engagement +was broken and he wasn’t coming back. And not to try to hunt him up +because he was never coming back. I didn’t. What was the use? I knew +Bernie. I went on piling, up money because there wasn’t anything else +to do. But I was mighty lonely. All I lived for was them little notes +now and then from Bernie—Klondike—England—South +Africa—China—everywhere. I thought maybe he’d come back some day to his +lonesome old dad. Then six years ago even the letters stopped. I didn’t +hear a word of or from him till last Christmas.†+ +“Did he write?†+ +“No. But he drew a check for fifteen thousand dollars on his bank +account. The bank manager is a friend of mine—one of my biggest +shareholders. He’d always promised me he’d let me know if Bernie drew +any checks. Bernie had fifty thousand there. And he’d never touched a +cent of it till last Christmas. The check was made out to Aynsley’s, +Toronto——†+ +“Aynsley’s?†Valancy heard herself saying Aynsley’s! She had a box on +her dressing-table with the Aynsley trademark. + +“Yes. The big jewellery house there. After I’d thought it over a while, +I got brisk. I wanted to locate Bernie. Had a special reason for it. It +was time he gave up his fool hoboing and come to his senses. Drawing +that fifteen told me there was something in the wind. The manager +communicated with the Aynsleys—his wife was an Aynsley—and found out +that Bernard Redfern had bought a pearl necklace there. His address was +given as Box 444, Port Lawrence, Muskoka, Ont. First I thought I’d +write. Then I thought I’d wait till the open season for cars and come +down myself. Ain’t no hand at writing. I’ve motored from Montreal. Got +to Port Lawrence yesterday. Enquired at the post-office. Told me they +knew nothing of any Bernard Snaith Redfern, but there was a Barney +Snaith had a P. O. box there. Lived on an island out here, they said. +So here I am. And where’s Barney?†+ +Valancy was fingering her necklace. She was wearing fifteen thousand +dollars around her neck. And she had worried lest Barney had paid +fifteen dollars for it and couldn’t afford it. Suddenly she laughed in +Dr. Redfern’s face. + +“Excuse me. It’s so—amusing,†said poor Valancy. + +“Isn’t it?†said Dr. Redfern, seeing a joke—but not exactly hers. “Now, +you seem like a sensible young woman, and I dare say you’ve lots of +influence over Bernie. Can’t you get him to come back to civilisation +and live like other people? I’ve a house up there. Big as a castle. +Furnished like a palace. I want company in it—Bernie’s wife—Bernie’s +children.†+ +“Did Ethel Traverse ever marry?†queried Valancy irrelevantly. + +“Bless you, yes. Two years after Bernie levanted. But she’s a widow +now. Pretty as ever. To be frank, that was my special reason for +wanting to find Bernie. I thought they’d make it up, maybe. But, of +course, that’s all off now. Doesn’t matter. Bernie’s choice of a wife +is good enough for me. It’s my boy I want. Think he’ll soon be back?†+ +“I don’t know. But I don’t think he’ll come before night. Quite late, +perhaps. And perhaps not till tomorrow. But I can put you up +comfortably. He’ll certainly be back tomorrow.†+ +Dr. Redfern shook his head. + +“Too damp. I’ll take no chances with rheumatism.†+ +“Why suffer that ceaseless anguish? Why not try Redfern’s Liniment?†+quoted the imp in the back of Valancy’s mind. + +“I must get back to Port Lawrence before rain starts. Henry goes quite +mad when he gets mud on the car. But I’ll come back tomorrow. Meanwhile +you talk Bernie into reason.†+ +He shook her hand and patted her kindly on the shoulder. He looked as +if he would have kissed her, with a little encouragement, but Valancy +did not give it. Not that she would have minded. He was rather dreadful +and loud—and—and—dreadful. But there was something about him she liked. +She thought dully that she might have liked being his daughter-in-law +if he had not been a millionaire. A score of times over. And Barney was +his son—and heir. + +She took him over in the motor boat and watched the lordly purple car +roll away through the woods with Henry at the wheel looking things not +lawful to be uttered. Then she went back to the Blue Castle. What she +had to do must be done quickly. Barney _might_ return at any moment. +And it was certainly going to rain. She was thankful she no longer felt +very bad. When you are bludgeoned on the head repeatedly, you naturally +and mercifully become more or less insensible and stupid. + +She stood briefly like a faded flower bitten by frost, by the hearth, +looking down on the white ashes of the last fire that had blazed in the +Blue Castle. + +“At any rate,†she thought wearily, “Barney isn’t poor. He will be able +to afford a divorce. Quite nicely.†+ + + + +CHAPTER XXXIX + + +She must write a note. The imp in the back of her mind laughed. In +every story she had ever read when a runaway wife decamped from home +she left a note, generally on the pin-cushion. It was not a very +original idea. But one had to leave something intelligible. What was +there to do but write a note? She looked vaguely about her for +something to write with. Ink? There was none. Valancy had never written +anything since she had come to the Blue Castle, save memoranda of +household necessaries for Barney. A pencil sufficed for them, but now +the pencil was not to be found. Valancy absently crossed to the door of +Bluebeard’s Chamber and tried it. She vaguely expected to find it +locked, but it opened unresistingly. She had never tried it before, and +did not know whether Barney habitually kept it locked or not. If he +did, he must have been badly upset to leave it unlocked. She did not +realise that she was doing something he had told her not to do. She was +only looking for something to write with. All her faculties were +concentrated on deciding just what she would say and how she would say +it. There was not the slightest curiosity in her as she went into the +lean-to. + +There were no beautiful women hanging by their hair on the walls. It +seemed a very harmless apartment, with a commonplace little sheet-iron +stove in the middle of it, its pipe sticking out through the roof. At +one end was a table or counter crowded with odd-looking utensils. Used +no doubt by Barney in his smelly operations. Chemical experiments, +probably, she reflected dully. At the other end was a big writing desk +and swivel-chair. The side walls were lined with books. + +Valancy went blindly to the desk. There she stood motionless for a few +minutes, looking down at something that lay on it. A bundle of +galley-proofs. The page on top bore the title _Wild Honey_, and under +the title were the words “by John Foster.†+ +The opening sentence—“Pines are the trees of myth and legend. They +strike their roots deep into the traditions of an older world, but wind +and star love their lofty tops. What music when old Æolus draws his bow +across the branches of the pines—†She had heard Barney say that one +day when they walked under them. + +So Barney was John Foster! + +Valancy was not excited. She had absorbed all the shocks and sensations +that she could compass for one day. This affected her neither one way +nor the other. She only thought: + +“So this explains it.†+ +“It†was a small matter that had, somehow, stuck in her mind more +persistently than its importance seemed to justify. Soon after Barney +had brought her John Foster’s latest book she had been in a Port +Lawrence bookshop and heard a customer ask the proprietor for John +Foster’s new book. The proprietor had said curtly, “Not out yet. Won’t +be out till next week.†+ +Valancy had opened her lips to say, “Oh, yes, it _is_ out,†but closed +them again. After all, it was none of her business. She supposed the +proprietor wanted to cover up his negligence in not getting the book in +promptly. Now she knew. The book Barney had given her had been one of +the author’s complimentary copies, sent in advance. + +Well! Valancy pushed the proofs indifferently aside and sat down in the +swivel-chair. She took up Barney’s pen—and a vile one it was—pulled a +sheet of paper to her and began to write. She could not think of +anything to say except bald facts. + + +“Dear Barney:— + +I went to Dr. Trent this morning and found out he had sent me the wrong +letter by mistake. There never was anything serious the matter with my +heart and I am quite well now. + +I did not mean to trick you. Please believe that. I could not bear it +if you did not believe that. I am very sorry for the mistake. But +surely you can get a divorce if I leave you. Is desertion a ground for +divorce in Canada? Of course if there is anything I can do to help or +hasten it I will do it gladly, if your lawyer will let me know. + +I thank you for all your kindness to me. I shall never forget it. Think +as kindly of me as you can, because I did not mean to trap you. +Good-bye. + +Yours gratefully, + +VALANCY.†+ + +It was very cold and stiff, she knew. But to try to say anything else +would be dangerous—like tearing away a dam. She didn’t know what +torrent of wild incoherences and passionate anguish might pour out. In +a postscript she added: + + +“Your father was here today. He is coming back tomorrow. He told me +everything. I think you should go back to him. He is very lonely for +you.†+ + +She put the letter in an envelope, wrote “Barney†across it, and left +it on the desk. On it she laid the string of pearls. If they had been +the beads she believed them she would have kept them in memory of that +wonderful year. But she could not keep the fifteen thousand dollar gift +of a man who had married her out of pity and whom she was now leaving. +It hurt her to give up her pretty bauble. That was an odd thing, she +reflected. The fact that she was leaving Barney did not hurt her—yet. +It lay at her heart like a cold, insensible thing. If it came to +life—Valancy shuddered and went out—— + +She put on her hat and mechanically fed Good Luck and Banjo. She locked +the door and carefully hid the key in the old pine. Then she crossed to +the mainland in the disappearing propeller. She stood for a moment on +the bank, looking at her Blue Castle. The rain had not yet come, but +the sky was dark, and Mistawis grey and sullen. The little house under +the pines looked very pathetic—a casket rifled of its jewels—a lamp +with its flame blown out. + +“I shall never again hear the wind crying over Mistawis at night,†+thought Valancy. This hurt her, too. She could have laughed to think +that such a trifle could hurt her at such a time. + + + + +CHAPTER XL + + +Valancy paused a moment on the porch of the brick house in Elm Street. +She felt that she ought to knock like a stranger. Her rosebush, she +idly noticed, was loaded with buds. The rubber-plant stood beside the +prim door. A momentary horror overcame her—a horror of the existence to +which she was returning. Then she opened the door and walked in. + +“I wonder if the Prodigal Son ever felt really at home again,†she +thought. + +Mrs. Frederick and Cousin Stickles were in the sitting-room. Uncle +Benjamin was there, too. They looked blankly at Valancy, realising at +once that something was wrong. This was not the saucy, impudent thing +who had laughed at them in this very room last summer. This was a +grey-faced woman with the eyes of a creature who had been stricken by a +mortal blow. + +Valancy looked indifferently around the room. She had changed so +much—and it had changed so little. The same pictures hung on the walls. +The little orphan who knelt at her never-finished prayer by the bed +whereon reposed the black kitten that never grew up into a cat. The +grey “steel engraving†of Quatre Bras, where the British regiment +forever stood at bay. The crayon enlargement of the boyish father she +had never known. There they all hung in the same places. The green +cascade of “Wandering Jew†still tumbled out of the old granite +saucepan on the window-stand. The same elaborate, never-used pitcher +stood at the same angle on the sideboard shelf. The blue and gilt vases +that had been among her mother’s wedding-presents still primly adorned +the mantelpiece, flanking the china clock of berosed and besprayed ware +that never went. The chairs in exactly the same places. Her mother and +Cousin Stickles, likewise unchanged, regarding her with stony +unwelcome. + +Valancy had to speak first. + +“I’ve come home, Mother,†she said tiredly. + +“So I see.†Mrs. Frederick’s voice was very icy. She had resigned +herself to Valancy’s desertion. She had almost succeeded in forgetting +there was a Valancy. She had rearranged and organised her systematic +life without any reference to an ungrateful, rebellious child. She had +taken her place again in a society which ignored the fact that she had +ever had a daughter and pitied her, if it pitied her at all, only in +discreet whispers and asides. The plain truth was that, by this time, +Mrs. Frederick did not want Valancy to come back—did not want ever to +see or hear of her again. + +And now, of course, Valancy was here. With tragedy and disgrace and +scandal trailing after her visibly. “So I see,†said Mrs. Frederick. +“May I ask why?†+ +“Because—I’m—not—going to die,†said Valancy huskily. + +“God bless my soul!†said Uncle Benjamin. “Who said you were going to +die?†+ +“I suppose,†said Cousin Stickles shrewishly—Cousin Stickles did not +want Valancy back either—“I suppose you’ve found out he has another +wife—as we’ve been sure all along.†+ +“No. I only wish he had,†said Valancy. She was not suffering +particularly, but she was very tired. If only the explanations were all +over and she were upstairs in her old, ugly room—alone. Just alone! The +rattle of the beads on her mother’s sleeves, as they swung on the arms +of the reed chair, almost drove her crazy. Nothing else was worrying +her; but all at once it seemed that she simply could not endure that +thin, insistent rattle. + +“My home, as I told you, is always open to you,†said Mrs. Frederick +stonily, “but I can never forgive you.†+ +Valancy gave a mirthless laugh. + +“I’d care very little for that if I could only forgive myself,†she +said. + +“Come, come,†said Uncle Benjamin testily. But rather enjoying himself. +He felt he had Valancy under his thumb again. “We’ve had enough of +mystery. What has happened? Why have you left that fellow? No doubt +there’s reason enough—but what particular reason is it?†+ +Valancy began to speak mechanically. She told her tale bluntly and +barely. + +“A year ago Dr. Trent told me I had angina pectoris and could not live +long. I wanted to have some—life—before I died. That’s why I went away. +Why I married Barney. And now I’ve found it is all a mistake. There is +nothing wrong with my heart. I’ve got to live—and Barney only married +me out of pity. So I have to leave him—free.†+ +“God bless me!†said Uncle Benjamin. Cousin Stickles began to cry. + +“Valancy, if you’d only had confidence in your own mother——†+ +“Yes, yes, I know,†said Valancy impatiently. “What’s the use of going +into that now? I can’t undo this year. God knows I wish I could. I’ve +tricked Barney into marrying me—and he’s really Bernard Redfern. Dr. +Redfern’s son, of Montreal. And his father wants him to go back to +him.†+ +Uncle Benjamin made a queer sound. Cousin Stickles took her +black-bordered handkerchief away from her eyes and stared at Valancy. A +queer gleam suddenly shot into Mrs. Frederick’s stone-grey orbs. + +“Dr. Redfern—not the Purple Pill man?†she said. + +Valancy nodded. “He’s John Foster, too—the writer of those nature +books.†+ +“But—but—†Mrs. Frederick was visibly agitated, though not over the +thought that she was the mother-in-law of John Foster—“_Dr. Redfern is +a millionaire_!†+ +Uncle Benjamin shut his mouth with a snap. + +“Ten times over,†he said. + +Valancy nodded. + +“Yes. Barney left home years ago—because of—of some +trouble—some—disappointment. Now he will likely go back. So you see—I +had to come home. He doesn’t love me. I can’t hold him to a bond he was +tricked into.†+ +Uncle Benjamin looked incredibly sly. + +“Did he say so? Does he want to get rid of you?†+ +“No. I haven’t seen him since I found out. But I tell you—he only +married me out of pity—because I asked him to—because he thought it +would only be for a little while.†+ +Mrs. Frederick and Cousin Stickles both tried to speak, but Uncle +Benjamin waved a hand at them and frowned portentously. + +“Let _me_ handle this,†wave and frown seemed to say. To Valancy: + +“Well, well, dear, we’ll talk it all over later. You see, we don’t +quite understand everything yet. As Cousin Stickles says, you should +have confided in us before. Later on—I dare say we can find a way out +of this.†+ +“You think Barney can easily get a divorce, don’t you?†said Valancy +eagerly. + +Uncle Benjamin silenced with another wave the exclamation of horror he +knew was trembling on Mrs. Frederick’s lips. + +“Trust to me, Valancy. Everything will arrange itself. Tell me this, +Dossie. Have you been happy up back? Was Sr.—Mr. Redfern good to you?†+ +“I have been very happy and Barney was very good to me,†said Valancy, +as if reciting a lesson. She remembered when she studied grammar at +school she had disliked the past and perfect tenses. They had always +seemed so pathetic. “I have beenâ€â€”it was all over and done with. + +“Then don’t worry, little girl.†How amazingly paternal Uncle Benjamin +was! “Your family will stand behind you. We’ll see what can be done.†+ +“Thank you,†said Valancy dully. Really, it was quite decent of Uncle +Benjamin. “Can I go and lie down a little while? I’m—I’m—tired.†+ +“Of course you’re tired.†Uncle Benjamin patted her hand gently—very +gently. “All worn out and nervous. Go and lie down, by all means. +You’ll see things in quite a different light after you’ve had a good +sleep.†+ +He held the door open. As she went through he whispered, “What is the +best way to keep a man’s love?†+ +Valancy smiled wanly. But she had come back to the old life—the old +shackles. “What?†she asked as meekly as of yore. + +“Not to return it,†said Uncle Benjamin with a chuckle. He shut the +door and rubbed his hands. Nodded and smiled mysteriously round the +room. + +“Poor little Doss!†he said pathetically. + +“Do you really suppose that—Snaith—can actually be Dr. Redfern’s son?†+gasped Mrs. Frederick. + +“I see no reason for doubting it. She says Dr. Redfern has been there. +Why, the man is rich as wedding-cake. Amelia, I’ve always believed +there was more in Doss than most people thought. You kept her down too +much—repressed her. She never had a chance to show what was in her. And +now she’s landed a millionaire for a husband.†+ +“But—†hesitated Mrs. Frederick, “he—he—they told terrible tales about +him.†+ +“All gossip and invention—all gossip and invention. It’s always been a +mystery to me why people should be so ready to invent and circulate +slanders about other people they know absolutely nothing about. I can’t +understand why you paid so much attention to gossip and surmise. Just +because he didn’t choose to mix up with everybody, people resented it. +I was surprised to find what a decent fellow he seemed to be that time +he came into my store with Valancy. I discounted all the yarns then and +there.†+ +“But he was seen dead drunk in Port Lawrence once,†said Cousin +Stickles. Doubtfully, yet as one very willing to be convinced to the +contrary. + +“Who saw him?†demanded Uncle Benjamin truculently. “Who saw him? Old +Jemmy Strang _said_ he saw him. I wouldn’t take old Jemmy Strang’s word +on oath. He’s too drunk himself half the time to see straight. He said +he saw him lying drunk on a bench in the Park. Pshaw! Redfern’s been +asleep there. Don’t worry over _that_.†+ +“But his clothes—and that awful old car—†said Mrs. Frederick +uncertainly. + +“Eccentricities of genius,†declared Uncle Benjamin. “You heard Doss +say he was John Foster. I’m not up in literature myself, but I heard a +lecturer from Toronto say that John Foster’s books had put Canada on +the literary map of the world.†+ +“I—suppose—we must forgive her,†yielded Mrs. Frederick. + +“Forgive her!†Uncle Benjamin snorted. Really, Amelia was an incredibly +stupid woman. No wonder poor Doss had gone sick and tired of living +with her. “Well, yes, I think you’d better forgive her! The question +is—will Snaith forgive _us_!†+ +“What if she persists in leaving him? You’ve no idea how stubborn she +can be,†said Mrs. Frederick. + +“Leave it all to me, Amelia. Leave it all to me. You women have muddled +it enough. This whole affair has been bungled from start to finish. If +you had put yourself to a little trouble years ago, Amelia, she would +not have bolted over the traces as she did. Just let her alone—don’t +worry her with advice or questions till she’s ready to talk. She’s +evidently run away in a panic because she’s afraid he’d be angry with +her for fooling him. Most extraordinary thing of Trent to tell her such +a yarn! That’s what comes of going to strange doctors. Well, well, we +mustn’t blame her too harshly, poor child. Redfern will come after her. +If he doesn’t, I’ll hunt him up and talk to him as man to man. He may +be a millionaire, but Valancy is a Stirling. He can’t repudiate her +just because she was mistaken about her heart disease. Not likely he’ll +want to. Doss is a little overstrung. Bless me, I must get in the habit +of calling her Valancy. She isn’t a baby any longer. Now, remember, +Amelia. Be very kind and sympathetic.†+ +It was something of a large order to expect Mrs. Frederick to be kind +and sympathetic. But she did her best. When supper was ready she went +up and asked Valancy if she wouldn’t like a cup of tea. Valancy, lying +on her bed, declined. She just wanted to be left alone for a while. +Mrs. Frederick left her alone. She did not even remind Valancy that her +plight was the outcome of her own lack of daughterly respect and +obedience. One could not—exactly—say things like that to the +daughter-in-law of a millionaire. + + + + +CHAPTER XLI + + +Valancy looked dully about her old room. It, too, was so exactly the +same that it seemed almost impossible to believe in the changes that +had come to her since she had last slept in it. It +seemed—somehow—indecent that it should be so much the same. There was +Queen Louise everlastingly coming down the stairway, and nobody had let +the forlorn puppy in out of the rain. Here was the purple paper blind +and the greenish mirror. Outside, the old carriage-shop with its +blatant advertisements. Beyond it, the station with the same derelicts +and flirtatious flappers. + +Here the old life waited for her, like some grim ogre that bided his +time and licked his chops. A monstrous horror of it suddenly possessed +her. When night fell and she had undressed and got into bed, the +merciful numbness passed away and she lay in anguish and thought of her +island under the stars. The camp-fires—all their little household jokes +and phrases and catch words—their furry beautiful cats—the lights +agleam on the fairy islands—canoes skimming over Mistawis in the magic +of morning—white birches shining among the dark spruces like beautiful +women’s bodies—winter snows and rose-red sunset fires—lakes drunken +with moonshine—all the delights of her lost paradise. She would not let +herself think of Barney. Only of these lesser things. She could not +endure to think of Barney. + +Then she thought of him inescapably. She ached for him. She wanted his +arms around her—his face against hers—his whispers in her ear. She +recalled all his friendly looks and quips and jests—his little +compliments—his caresses. She counted them all over as a woman might +count her jewels—not one did she miss from the first day they had met. +These memories were all she could have now. She shut her eyes and +prayed. + +“Let me remember every one, God! Let me never forget one of them!†+ +Yet it would be better to forget. This agony of longing and loneliness +would not be so terrible if one could forget. And Ethel Traverse. That +shimmering witch woman with her white skin and black eyes and shining +hair. The woman Barney had loved. The woman whom he still loved. Hadn’t +he told her he never changed his mind? Who was waiting for him in +Montreal. Who was the right wife for a rich and famous man. Barney +would marry her, of course, when he got his divorce. How Valancy hated +her! And envied her! Barney had said, “I love you,†to _her_. Valancy +had wondered what tone Barney would say “I love you†in—how his +dark-blue eyes would look when he said it. Ethel Traverse knew. Valancy +hated her for the knowledge—hated and envied her. + +“She can never have those hours in the Blue Castle. They are _mine_,†+thought Valancy savagely. Ethel would never make strawberry jam or +dance to old Abel’s fiddle or fry bacon for Barney over a camp-fire. +She would never come to the little Mistawis shack at all. + +What was Barney doing—thinking—feeling now? Had he come home and found +her letter? Was he still angry with her? Or a little pitiful. Was he +lying on their bed looking out on stormy Mistawis and listening to the +rain streaming down on the roof? Or was he still wandering in the +wilderness, raging at the predicament in which he found himself? Hating +her? Pain took her and wrung her like some great pitiless giant. She +got up and walked the floor. Would morning never come to end this +hideous night? And yet what could morning bring her? The old life +without the old stagnation that was at least bearable. The old life +with the new memories, the new longings, the new anguish. + +“Oh, why can’t I die?†moaned Valancy. + + + + +CHAPTER XLII + + +It was not until early afternoon the next day that a dreadful old car +clanked up Elm Street and stopped in front of the brick house. A +hatless man sprang from it and rushed up the steps. The bell was rung +as it had never been rung before—vehemently, intensely. The ringer was +demanding entrance, not asking it. Uncle Benjamin chuckled as he +hurried to the door. Uncle Benjamin had “just dropped in†to enquire +how dear Doss—Valancy was. Dear Doss—Valancy, he had been informed, was +just the same. She had come down for breakfast—which she didn’t +eat—gone back to her room, come down for dinner—which she didn’t +eat—gone back to her room. That was all. She had not talked. And she +had been let, kindly, considerately, alone. + +“Very good. Redfern will be here today,†said Uncle Benjamin. And now +Uncle Benjamin’s reputation as a prophet was made. Redfern was +here—unmistakably so. + +“Is my wife here?†he demanded of Uncle Benjamin without preface. + +Uncle Benjamin smiled expressively. + +“Mr. Redfern, I believe? Very glad to meet you, sir. Yes, that naughty +little girl of yours is here. We have been——†+ +“I must see her,†Barney cut Uncle Benjamin ruthlessly short. + +“Certainly, Mr. Redfern. Just step in here. Valancy will be down in a +minute.†+ +He ushered Barney into the parlour and betook himself to the +sitting-room and Mrs. Frederick. + +“Go up and tell Valancy to come down. Her husband is here.†+ +But so dubious was Uncle Benjamin as to whether Valancy could really +come down in a minute—or at all—that he followed Mrs. Frederick on +tiptoe up the stairs and listened in the hall. + +“Valancy dear,†said Mrs. Frederick tenderly, “your husband is in the +parlour, asking for you.†+ +“Oh, Mother.†Valancy got up from the window and wrung her hands. “I +cannot see him—I cannot! Tell him to go away—_ask_ him to go away. I +can’t see him!†+ +“Tell her,†hissed Uncle Benjamin through the keyhole, “that Redfern +says he won’t go away until he _has_ seen her.†+ +Redfern had not said anything of the kind, but Uncle Benjamin thought +he was that sort of a fellow. Valancy knew he was. She understood that +she might as well go down first as last. + +She did not even look at Uncle Benjamin as she passed him on the +landing. Uncle Benjamin did not mind. Rubbing his hands and chuckling, +he retreated to the kitchen, where he genially demanded of Cousin +Stickles: + +“Why are good husbands like bread?†+ +Cousin Stickles asked why. + +“Because women need them,†beamed Uncle Benjamin. + +Valancy was looking anything but beautiful when she entered the +parlour. Her white night had played fearful havoc with her face. She +wore an ugly old brown-and-blue gingham, having left all her pretty +dresses in the Blue Castle. But Barney dashed across the room and +caught her in his arms. + +“Valancy, darling—oh, you darling little idiot! Whatever possessed you +to run away like that? When I came home last night and found your +letter I went quite mad. It was twelve o’clock—I knew it was too late +to come here then. I walked the floor all night. Then this morning Dad +came—I couldn’t get away till now. Valancy, whatever got into you? +Divorce, forsooth! Don’t you know——†+ +“I know you only married me out of pity,†said Valancy, brushing him +away feebly. “I know you don’t love me—I know——†+ +“You’ve been lying awake at three o’clock too long,†said Barney, +shaking her. “That’s all that’s the matter with you. Love you! Oh, +don’t I love you! My girl, when I saw that train coming down on you I +knew whether I loved you or not!†+ +“Oh, I was afraid you would try to make me think you cared,†cried +Valancy passionately. “Don’t—don’t! I _know_. I know all about Ethel +Traverse—your father told me everything. Oh, Barney, don’t torture me! +I can never go back to you!†+ +Barney released her and looked at her for a moment. Something in her +pallid, resolute face spoke more convincingly than words of her +determination. + +“Valancy,†he said quietly, “Father couldn’t have told you everything +because he didn’t know it. Will you let _me_ tell you—everything?†+ +“Yes,†said Valancy wearily. Oh, how dear he was! How she longed to +throw herself into his arms! As he put her gently down in a chair, she +could have kissed the slender, brown hands that touched her arms. She +could not look up as he stood before her. She dared not meet his eyes. +For his sake, she must be brave. She knew him—kind, unselfish. Of +course he would pretend he did not want his freedom—she might have +known he would pretend that, once the first shock of realisation was +over. He was so sorry for her—he understood her terrible position. When +had he ever failed to understand? But she would never accept his +sacrifice. Never! + +“You’ve seen Dad and you know I’m Bernard Redfern. And I suppose you’ve +guessed that I’m John Foster—since you went into Bluebeard’s Chamber.†+ +“Yes. But I didn’t go in out of curiosity. I forgot you had told me not +to go in—I forgot——†+ +“Never mind. I’m not going to kill you and hang you up on the wall, so +there’s no need to call for Sister Anne. I’m only going to tell you my +story from the beginning. I came back last night intending to do it. +Yes, I’m ‘old Doc. Redfern’s son’—of Purple Pills and Bitters fame. Oh, +don’t I know it? Wasn’t it rubbed into me for years?†+ +Barney laughed bitterly and strode up and down the room a few times. +Uncle Benjamin, tiptoeing through the hall, heard the laugh and +frowned. Surely Doss wasn’t going to be a stubborn little fool. Barney +threw himself into a chair before Valancy. + +“Yes. As long as I can remember I’ve been a millionaire’s son. But when +I was born Dad wasn’t a millionaire. He wasn’t even a doctor—isn’t yet. +He was a veterinary and a failure at it. He and Mother lived in a +little village up in Quebec and were abominably poor. I don’t remember +Mother. Haven’t even a picture of her. She died when I was two years +old. She was fifteen years younger than Father—a little school teacher. +When she died Dad moved into Montreal and formed a company to sell his +hair tonic. He’d dreamed the prescription one night, it seems. Well, it +caught on. Money began to flow in. Dad invented—or dreamed—the other +things, too—Pills, Bitters, Liniment and so on. He was a millionaire by +the time I was ten, with a house so big a small chap like myself always +felt lost in it. I had every toy a boy could wish for—and I was the +loneliest little devil in the world. I remember only one happy day in +my childhood, Valancy. Only one. Even you were better off than that. +Dad had gone out to see an old friend in the country and took me along. +I was turned loose in the barnyard and I spent the whole day hammering +nails in a block of wood. I had a glorious day. When I had to go back +to my roomful of playthings in the big house in Montreal I cried. But I +didn’t tell Dad why. I never told him anything. It’s always been a hard +thing for me to tell things, Valancy—anything that went deep. And most +things went deep with me. I was a sensitive child and I was even more +sensitive as a boy. No one ever knew what I suffered. Dad never dreamed +of it. + +“When he sent me to a private school—I was only eleven—the boys ducked +me in the swimming-tank until I stood on a table and read aloud all the +advertisements of Father’s patent abominations. I did it—thenâ€â€”Barney +clinched his fists—“I was frightened and half drowned and all my world +was against me. But when I went to college and the sophs tried the same +stunt I didn’t do it.†Barney smiled grimly. “They couldn’t make me do +it. But they could—and did—make my life miserable. I never heard the +last of the Pills and the Bitters and the Hair Tonic. ‘After using’ was +my nickname—you see I’d always such a thick thatch. My four college +years were a nightmare. You know—or you don’t know—what merciless +beasts boys can be when they get a victim like me. I had few +friends—there was always some barrier between me and the kind of people +I cared for. And the other kind—who would have been very willing to be +intimate with rich old Doc. Redfern’s son—I didn’t care for. But I had +one friend—or thought I had. A clever, bookish chap—a bit of a writer. +That was a bond between us—I had some secret aspirations along that +line. He was older than I was—I looked up to him and worshipped him. +For a year I was happier than I’d ever been. Then—a burlesque sketch +came out in the college magazine—a mordant thing, ridiculing Dad’s +remedies. The names were changed, of course, but everybody knew what +and who was meant. Oh, it was clever—damnably so—and witty. McGill +rocked with laughter over it. I found out _he_ had written it.†+ +“Oh, were you sure?†Valancy’s dull eyes flamed with indignation. + +“Yes. He admitted it when I asked him. Said a good idea was worth more +to him than a friend, any time. And he added a gratuitous thrust. ‘You +know, Redfern, there are some things money won’t buy. For instance—it +won’t buy you a grandfather.’ Well, it was a nasty slam. I was young +enough to feel cut up. And it destroyed a lot of my ideals and +illusions, which was the worst thing about it. I was a young +misanthrope after that. Didn’t want to be friends with any one. And +then—the year after I left college—I met Ethel Traverse.†+ +Valancy shivered. Barney, his hands stuck in his pockets, was regarding +the floor moodily and didn’t notice it. + +“Dad told you about her, I suppose. She was very beautiful. And I loved +her. Oh, yes, I loved her. I won’t deny it or belittle it now. It was a +lonely, romantic boy’s first passionate love, and it was very real. And +I thought she loved me. I was fool enough to think that. I was wildly +happy when she promised to marry me. For a few months. Then—I found out +she didn’t. I was an involuntary eavesdropper on a certain occasion for +a moment. That moment was enough. The proverbial fate of the +eavesdropper overtook me. A girl friend of hers was asking her how she +could stomach Doc. Redfern’s son and the patent-medicine background. + +“‘His money will gild the Pills and sweeten the Bitters,’ said Ethel, +with a laugh. ‘Mother told me to catch him if I could. We’re on the +rocks. But pah! I smell turpentine whenever he comes near me.’†+ +“Oh, Barney!†cried Valancy, wrung with pity for him. She had forgotten +all about herself and was filled with compassion for Barney and rage +against Ethel Traverse. How dared she? + +“Well,â€â€”Barney got up and began pacing round the room—“that finished +me. Completely. I left civilisation and those accursed dopes behind me +and went to the Yukon. For five years I knocked about the world—in all +sorts of outlandish places. I earned enough to live on—I wouldn’t touch +a cent of Dad’s money. Then one day I woke up to the fact that I no +longer cared a hang about Ethel, one way or another. She was somebody +I’d known in another world—that was all. But I had no hankering to go +back to the old life. None of that for me. I was free and I meant to +keep so. I came to Mistawis—saw Tom MacMurray’s island. My first book +had been published the year before, and made a hit—I had a bit of money +from my royalties. I bought my island. But I kept away from people. I +had no faith in anybody. I didn’t believe there was such a thing as +real friendship or true love in the world—not for me, anyhow—the son of +Purple Pills. I used to revel in all the wild yarns they told of me. In +fact, I’m afraid I suggested a few of them myself. By mysterious +remarks which people interpreted in the light of their own +prepossessions. + +“Then—you came. I _had_ to believe you loved me—really loved _me_—not +my father’s millions. There was no other reason why you should want to +marry a penniless devil with my supposed record. And I was sorry for +you. Oh, yes, I don’t deny I married you because I was sorry for you. +And then—I found you the best and jolliest and dearest little pal and +chum a fellow ever had. Witty—loyal—sweet. You made me believe again in +the reality of friendship and love. The world seemed good again just +because you were in it, honey. I’d have been willing to go on forever +just as we were. I knew that, the night I came home and saw my +homelight shining out from the island for the first time. And knew you +were there waiting for me. After being homeless all my life it was +beautiful to have a home. To come home hungry at night and know there +was a good supper and a cheery fire—and _you_. + +“But I didn’t realise what you actually meant to me till that moment at +the switch. Then it came like a lightning flash. I knew I couldn’t live +without you—that if I couldn’t pull you loose in time I’d have to die +with you. I admit it bowled me over—knocked me silly. I couldn’t get my +bearings for a while. That’s why I acted like a mule. But the thought +that drove me to the tall timber was the awful one that you were going +to die. I’d always hated the thought of it—but I supposed there wasn’t +any chance for you, so I put it out of my mind. Now I had to face +it—you were under sentence of death and I couldn’t live without you. +When I came home last night I had made up my mind that I’d take you to +all the specialists in the world—that something surely could be done +for you. I felt sure you couldn’t be as bad as Dr. Trent thought, when +those moments on the track hadn’t even hurt you. And I found your +note—and went mad with happiness—and a little terror for fear you +didn’t care much for me, after all, and had gone away to get rid of me. +But now, it’s all right, isn’t it, darling?†+ +Was she, Valancy being called “darlingâ€? + +“I _can’t_ believe you care for me,†she said helplessly. “I _know_ you +can’t. What’s the use, Barney? Of course, you’re sorry for me—of course +you want to do the best you can to straighten out the mess. But it +can’t be straightened out that way. You couldn’t love me—me.†She stood +up and pointed tragically to the mirror over the mantel. Certainly, not +even Allan Tierney could have seen beauty in the woeful, haggard little +face reflected there. + +Barney didn’t look at the mirror. He looked at Valancy as if he would +like to snatch her—or beat her. + +“Love you! Girl, you’re in the very core of my heart. I hold you there +like a jewel. Didn’t I promise you I’d never tell you a lie? Love you! +I love you with all there is of me to love. Heart, soul, brain. Every +fibre of body and spirit thrilling to the sweetness of you. There’s +nobody in the world for me but you, Valancy.†+ +“You’re—a good actor, Barney,†said Valancy, with a wan little smile. + +Barney looked at her. + +“So you don’t believe me—yet?†+ +“I—can t.†+ +“Oh—damn!†said Barney violently. + +Valancy looked up startled. She had never seen _this_ Barney. Scowling! +Eyes black with anger. Sneering lips. Dead-white face. + +“You don’t want to believe it,†said Barney in the silk-smooth voice of +ultimate rage. “You’re tired of me. You want to get out of it—free from +me. You’re ashamed of the Pills and the Liniment, just as she was. Your +Stirling pride can’t stomach them. It was all right as long as you +thought you hadn’t long to live. A good lark—you could put up with me. +But a lifetime with old Doc Redfern’s son is a different thing. Oh, I +understand—perfectly. I’ve been very dense—but I understand, at last.†+ +Valancy stood up. She stared into his furious face. Then—she suddenly +laughed. + +“You darling!†she said. “You do mean it! You do really love me! You +wouldn’t be so enraged if you didn’t.†+ +Barney stared at her for a moment. Then he caught her in his arms with +the little low laugh of the triumphant lover. + +Uncle Benjamin, who had been frozen with horror at the keyhole, +suddenly thawed out and tiptoed back to Mrs. Frederick and Cousin +Stickles. + +“Everything is all right,†he announced jubilantly. + +Dear little Doss! He would send for his lawyer right away and alter his +will again. Doss should be his sole heiress. To her that had should +certainly be given. + +Mrs. Frederick, returning to her comfortable belief in an overruling +Providence, got out the family Bible and made an entry under +“Marriages.†+ + + + +CHAPTER XLIII + + +“But, Barney,†protested Valancy after a few minutes, “your +father—somehow—gave me to understand that you _still_ loved _her_.†+ +“He would. Dad holds the championship for making blunders. If there’s a +thing that’s better left unsaid you can trust him to say it. But he +isn’t a bad old soul, Valancy. You’ll like him.†+ +“I do, now.†+ +“And his money isn’t tainted money. He made it honestly. His medicines +are quite harmless. Even his Purple Pills do people whole heaps of good +when they believe in them.†+ +“But—I’m not fit for your life,†sighed Valancy. “I’m not—clever—or +well-educated—or——†+ +“My life is in Mistawis—and all the wild places of the world. I’m not +going to ask you to live the life of a society woman. Of course, we +must spend a bit of the time with Dad—he’s lonely and old——†+ +“But not in that big house of his,†pleaded Valancy. “I can’t live in a +palace.†+ +“Can’t come down to that after your Blue Castle,†grinned Barney. +“Don’t worry, sweet. I couldn’t live in that house myself. It has a +white marble stairway with gilt bannisters and looks like a furniture +shop with the labels off. Likewise it’s the pride of Dad’s heart. We’ll +get a little house somewhere outside of Montreal—in the real +country—near enough to see Dad often. I think we’ll build one for +ourselves. A house you build for yourself is so much nicer than a +hand-me-down. But we’ll spend our summers in Mistawis. And our autumns +travelling. I want you to see the Alhambra—it’s the nearest thing to +the Blue Castle of your dreams I can think of. And there’s an old-world +garden in Italy where I want to show you the moon rising over Rome +through the dark cypress-trees.†+ +“Will that be any lovelier than the moon rising over Mistawis?†+ +“Not lovelier. But a different kind of loveliness. There are so many +kinds of loveliness. Valancy, before this year you’ve spent all your +life in ugliness. You know nothing of the beauty of the world. We’ll +climb mountains—hunt for treasures in the bazaars of Samarcand—search +out the magic of east and west—run hand in hand to the rim of the +world. I want to show you it all—see it again through your eyes. Girl, +there are a million things I want to show you—do with you—say to you. +It will take a lifetime. And we must see about that picture by Tierney, +after all.†+ +“Will you promise me one thing?†asked Valancy solemnly. + +“Anything,†said Barney recklessly. + +“Only one thing. You are never, under any circumstances or under any +provocation, to cast it up to me that I asked you to marry me.†+ + + + +CHAPTER XLIV + + + + +E_xtract from letter written by Miss Olive Stirling to Mr. Cecil +Bruce:_ + +“It’s really disgusting that Doss’ crazy adventures should have turned +out like this. It makes one feel that there is no use in behaving +properly. + +“I’m _sure_ her mind was unbalanced when she left home. What she said +about a dust-pile showed that. Of course I don’t think there was ever a +thing the matter with her heart. Or perhaps Snaith or Redfern or +whatever his name really is fed Purple Pills to her, back in that +Mistawis hut and cured her. It would make quite a testimonial for the +family ads, wouldn’t it? + +“He’s such an insignificent-looking creature. I mentioned this to Doss +but all she said was, ‘I don’t like collar ad men.’ + +“Well, he’s certainly no collar ad man. Though I must say there is +something rather distinguished about him, now that he has cut his hair +and put on decent clothes. I really think, Cecil, you should exercise +more. It doesn’t do to get too fleshy. + +“He also claims, I believe, to be John Foster. We can believe _that_ or +not, as we like, I suppose. + +“Old Doc Redfern has given them two millions for a wedding-present. +Evidently the Purple Pills bring in the bacon. They’re going to spend +the fall in Italy and the winter in Egypt and motor through Normandy in +apple-blossom time. _Not_ in that dreadful old Lizzie, though. Redfern +has got a wonderful new car. + +“Well, I think I’ll run away, too, and disgrace myself. It seems to +pay. + +“Uncle Ben is a scream. Likewise Uncle James. The fuss they all make +over Doss now is absolutely sickening. To hear Aunt Amelia talking of +‘my son-in-law, Bernard Redfern’ and ‘my daughter, Mrs. Bernard +Redfern.’ Mother and Father are as bad as the rest. And they can’t see +that Valancy is just laughing at them all in her sleeve.†+ + + + +CHAPTER XLV + + +Valancy and Barney turned under the mainland pines in the cool dusk of +the September night for a farewell look at the Blue Castle. Mistawis +was drowned in sunset lilac light, incredibly delicate and elusive. Nip +and Tuck were cawing lazily in the old pines. Good Luck and Banjo were +mewed and mewing in separate baskets in Barney’s new, dark-green car +_en route_ to Cousin Georgiana’s. Cousin Georgiana was going to take +care of them until Barney and Valancy came back. Aunt Wellington and +Cousin Sarah and Aunt Alberta had also entreated the privilege of +looking after them, but to Cousin Georgiana was it given. Valancy was +in tears. + +“Don’t cry, Moonlight. We’ll be back next summer. And now we’re off for +a real honeymoon.†+ +Valancy smiled through her tears. She was so happy that her happiness +terrified her. But, despite the delights before her—‘the glory that was +Greece and the grandeur that was Rome’—lure of the ageless Nile—glamour +of the Riviera—mosque and palace and minaret—she knew perfectly well +that no spot or place or home in the world could ever possess the +sorcery of her Blue Castle. + +THE END + + + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BLUE CASTLE: A NOVEL *** + + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will +be renamed. + +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part +of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project +Gutenbergâ„¢ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERGâ„¢ +concept and trademark. 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