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Tous laa autras axamplairas originaux sont filmAs an commandant par la pr«midra paga qui comporta una amprainta d'imprassion ou d'illustration at Bn tarminant per la darniAra paga qui comporta una talla amprainta. Un das aymbolaa suivants apparattra sur la darnlAra imaga da chaqua microficha, salon la cas: la symbola — »-signifia "A SUIVRE ", la symbols ▼ signifia "FIN". Las cartaa, planchas, tablaaux. ate. pauvant Atra filmte A daa taux da rMuction diffArants. Lorsqua la documant aat trop grand pour Atra raproduit an un saul clichA, 11 aat film* A partir da I'angla supAriaur gaucha. da gaucha h droita, at da haut an baa, an pranant la nombra d'imagiM nAcaaaaira. Las diagrammas suivants illustrant la mithoda. 1 2 3 1 2 3 4 5 6 WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN j^otaeW. HEPHZIBAH GUINNESS. IN WAR TIME. ROLAND BLAKE. FAR IN THE FOREST. CHARACTERISTICS. «r^ T WHEN ALL THE WOODS AliE GREEN " take care ; tliere is my arm, dear. How deliglitful to see tlie old river! " The night was so dark that Lyiidsay liesitated as he stood on the verge. " Wliat is ic ? " said his wife. " T d<; not quite like to go up to-night in this depth of darkness. Do you think it quite safe, Polyearp '? Can you see ? " *' Not very w(dl," said tlu^ guide, " but soon brt^ak and have heap nuxni." "I think we must risk it, my dear. You will go with me." Then he said a word of (tuition to the guides, and called to the boys, "Come, Dicky, and you, Jackunis." They ran down the slope in haste and stood a little, made (piiet for once in their noisy lives, but inreresled, alert, ami peering through the darkness. " Is that you, Tom and Ambrose 'i How are you all? and Pierre — have you kept nu^ a big salmon ?" lie shook hands Avith each of the guides, having a gay word of kindly remembrance for all in turn, ^[eanwhile the sister of the boys came down to the cauoes, nuule silent, like the children, l)v the night, the pervasive stillness, and the novelty of the situation. " Baggage gone up, Pierre ? " " Yes, Mr. Lyndsay ; everything is right, — and the salmon thick as pine-needles. Thci small traps are all in. We might be getting away." " Shall the women need their waterproofs, Tom ? " — this to a huge form which loomed large as it moved among the other men, who were busy adjusting the small freight of hand baggage. The voice, when it ■■'>: 'A ^i WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN 3 broke out in reply, was, even for a fellow of six feet two, of unproportioned loudness. " They won't want none ; it 's a-g-oin' to bust out clear." Miss Anne Lyndsay, the maiden aunt of the ehil- dren, came down the bank as Thunder Tom replied Her steps, too feeble for health, were thoughtfully aided by Edward, the youngest boy. To her turned iu)se, the niece, a woman of twenty years. " Did you ever hear the like ? " She felt the queer improprieiy of this terrible voire m the solemn stillness which, somehow, adequately suggested tiie tribute of the bated breath "Won't need no wraps. Miss Lyndsav. Rain 's done. There fell a power of water." "What a voice, Aunt Anne!" said Rose ''It 's like the boom of the sea." "He explodes,- he does n't speak j a conversa- tional cannonade." "Hush," said Mrs. Lyndsay, the mother; - he is quite sensitive about it. He was with us last year and a very good man, too, as I know." ' " Canoe is ready, sir." " It is like a parting salute," said Rose. " W(>11, my dear," whispered Miss Anne, "it will be a fine reminder for a certain person; all things have ttieir uses." " Thanks, Aunt Anne. A certain person has a not micertain consciousness that she does n't need it }^ oiks complain that we women speak too loud I ani sure our men have lost their voices. As for the Enjr- hsh women you admire so much, I could hardly un- T WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN *ii (lerstand them at all, with theii" timid, thin voices, and fat a's,-' '' Stuff ! " said Miss Anne. " That is Enj^lish." *' I prefer Shakspere's Englisli," said Rose. " I ad- vise them to read ' Love's Labor 's Lost.' " " That is our old battle-field, Rose. But you would have to be consistent, and I do assure you, if you talked as Shakspere talked, you would make a sen- sation." "Come, adjourn that skirmish," said Archi])ald Lyndsay, who had been rearranj^inj? the (^anoeloads. Then the voice, to which others were as whispers, roared : " Who 's for where, Mr. Lvndsav ? " " All right. Tom, your v()i(^e is really g'etting* broken. Come, Margaret, — this way dear." " It 's so,'' said Tom. '' I kin speak bigger if I try," — this to Miss Lyndsay, apologetically, as he aided her into the boat. " Fact is, Miss, I was twins, like them boys, and Bill he died. He had n't no voice to count on. It 's main useful when you 're drivin' h)gs." "What a baby he must have been in a quiet family ! " whispered Anne to Rose and Ned. " Imag- ine it ! " " I did n't understand what he said, Aunt Anne," remarked the boy. * " I do not think he quite understood liimself. Per- haps he had a vague notion that he had to talk so as to represent the dead l>rother, ' who had n't no voice to count on.' " " I like it," remarked Rose. " Yes, papa." 4 II voices, sh." , "lad- ou would II, if you ko a seu- \.vcliil)!il(l noeloads. wliispeivs, y gettiuj]'- V." V if I try," , lie aided :\viiis, like lo voice to 're driviii' u a quiet i. " Iniag- lut Anne," iself. Pev- ) talk so as I't no voice i \ ■i : i I '3 WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN '^This way," said Lyndsay; ^'here, Margaret, in my canoe." " Could I have Ned witli nie, brother ? " asked Miss Anne. "Certainly. Here, in this canoe, not tlie birch. This one,— now, so, with your face up the river, and you, Ned,— yes, on the cusliion on tlie bottom." "How comfortable!" said Anne, as she leaned back ou a board set at a slope against the seat. "And now, Margaret,— you and I, together with Pierre and — Halloa there, Gemini! Oh, you are in the birch already. No nonsense, now! No larking! These birches turn over like tumbler-pigeons." " You, dear,"— to Rose,— '' you are to go with Poly- !arp and Ambrose. By yourself, my child ? Yes." There was a special note of tenderness in his voice as he spoke. " How is that, Rosy Posy ? " "Delightful! How well you know! And I did want to be alone,— just to-night,— for a little while.' "Yes." As he released her hand he kissed her " Now, away with you." In a few moments the little fleet was off, and the paddles were splashing jets of white out of the deep blackness of the stream Bv degrees the canoes fell apart. Despite the parentid warning, the tAvins had secured paddles, and were more or less competently aiding their men, so that soon tliev were far ahead. Lyndsay chatted with his guides of the salmon, and of his luggage and stores, sent up the day before. Aunt Anne and her favorite Ned were silent for a time ;^but the boy's glance roamed restlessly from sky 1 It WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN to sti'oam, and up over the great dim hills. At lust he said : *' Hark, Aunt Anne ; liow lond things sound at niglit!" " Them 's the rapids," said Tom, in tones that made Miss Lyndsay start. " Them 's a mile away.'' '' I suppose, Ned, that when all one's other senses are more or less unused, the ear may hear more dis- tinetly ; at all events, what you say is true, I think. If I want to hear veiy plaiidy, I am apt to shut my eyes — good musie always makes mo do that.'' "That 's so," said John. He eonsidered himself (piite free to have his share in the talk. ''When I 'm callin' moose, 1 most alius shuts my eyes to listen, to them trumpetin' baek. Dory ?[ayl»rook Avas a-sayin' that same thing las' Toosday a week. We was a-settin' out by her wood-pile. An' slio sat there a-thinkin'. An' says she, 'It 's (*ui''(ms how you ean hear things at night.' Jus' like you said. Hiram he was a-ehoppin'." " Who is Dorv Mavhrook ? " said Ned. '' Well, she 's Dorv Mavbrook ; she 's Hiram's wife. Hiram 's her husband," and he laughed, — laughed as he talked, so that the noise of it boomed across tlu^ wide waters. Again for a while they were silent, asking no more (piesti'.)ns. The aunt was wondering what could have given big Tom his overpowering voice, and how it would affe(!t one to live Avith such an organ. She turned it over in her mind in all its droller aspeear she had wandered with Anne Lyndsay. Tliree weeks be- fore the evening on which begins my tale, she Avas in London, and now she was greeted Avith a sudden sense t f emancipation fnun the world of convention- alities. Neither father nor mother was exclusivclv • represented in this happily fashioned womanhood. And thus it was that her inherited (jualities so modi- tied one another that people missed the resemblances, and said only that she was like none of her people. Nevertheless, she had her father's taste and capacity for seeing accurately and enjoying the simple uses of observation, with also, in a measure, what he some- what lacked — the aunt's unending joy in all humor; sharing with her the privilege of finding a smile or a laugh where others, who lack this magic, can only conjure sadness. She saAV with mental directness, and, Avliere her affections were not coiuicrned, acted without the hesitations wiiich perplex the inadecpiate thinker. Her aniit, to whom she bore some resemblance in face, had learned much in a life of nearly constant T 8 WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN sickness, l)ut never the power to restrain her fatal in- cisiveness of speecfli. She eoukl liurt herself with it as well as annoy others, as she well knew. But in her niece, keenness of perception and lar^e sense of the ridiculons were pnt to no critical nses. The sim- ple kindliness of her mother was also hers. At times in life permanent qualities of mind vary in tlie importance of the nse we make of them. Rose was now in the day of (piestions. Everythinj** inter- ested her : an immense curiosity sharpened her natu- rally acute mental vision ; an eloquently imaginative nature ki'pt lu'r supplied Avitli endh'ss (pieries. Tlic hour of re(H)gni7.ed limitations had not yet stru(!k for her. Now she set the broad sails of a willing" mood, and gave herself up to the influen(;es of the time and l)lac<'. Deej) darkness was about her. The sky seenu'd tc> be h>w above her. The dusky hills ap- pear^'d to l)e close at hand on each side. The watei" looked, as it rose to left and right, as though the sky, the Avaves, the hills were crowding in upon her, and she, sped by rhythmic paddles, was flitting througli a lane of narrowing gloom. The impression I descril)e, of being walled in at night by water, hill, and sky, is familiar to the more sensitive of those who are wise enough to find their holiday by wood and stream. The newness of the sensation charmed the girl. Tlieu in turn came to her the noise of the greater rapids, as, after two hours, the river became more swift. Twice she had spoken ; but twice the dark guidcf had made clear to her that ho needed all his wits about him, and once he had altogether failed to an- swer her or, perhaps, to hear at all. But now the '! WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN 9 ,al in- ith it kit ill ise of e siiii- iiry iu Rost^ iuter- • natii- iiijitive . Tlu' u'.k for ; mood, 1110 and le sky ills ap- e water gli tlio oil lior, liroujuli d in at le more id tlu'ir of the ame to ) hours, k guide lis wits 1 to aii- low the I .; clouds began to break, and the night bectame clear, so that all objects were more easily discernible. " Is your name Polycarj) ? " she said, at last, turning as she sat to look back at the iini)assive figure in the .stern. " I 'm Polycarp," said the Indian. " What is that I hear ? Of course I hear tlu^ rapids, 1 )ut — it is like ^ >i(?es and — and — laughter. Is it only the rapids? How strange! Could you — just stop paddling a moment?" The paddles were silent, and slit! listened. The sounds came and went, mysteriously rising, falling, or changing, despite* the absence of wind, as they drifted downward when the paddles no longer moved. Mr. Lvudsay's canoe overtook them. "What is it?" he called. " Anything wn mg ! " " No, no ! I wanted to hear the rapids. They seem lik(! voices." ''Ask me about that to-morrow," said her father, " but push on now. We shall be late enough." Again the paddles fell, and her canoe slid away into the ever-deepening night. Of a sudden her traiufe of thought was broken, and over the waters from the twins came snatches of song, bits of Scotch ballads, familiar in this household. At last she smiled and murmured, " The scamps ! " They were caroling the song with which they had been fond of mocking her in her girlhood. "There are seven fair flowers in yon green wood, In a bush in the woods o' Lyndsaye ; There are seven braw flowers an' ae bonny bud, Oh I the bonniest flower in Lyndsaye. An' weel love I the bonny, bonny rose — The bonny, bonny Rose-a-Lyndsaye ; T ■\i 10 WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GEEEN ii All' I '11 big ray bowor o' tho forest boughs, All' I Ml tleo in tlio groeu woods o' Lyndsaye. '• Her face is like tho evoiiiii' lake, That tho birk or the willow fringes, Whose peane the wild wind canna break, Or but its beauty changes. An' she is aye my bonny, bonny rose. She 'is the bonny young Roso-a-Lyndsayc ; An' ae blink of her e'o wad bo dearer to me Than the wale o' the lands o' Lyndsaye." The voices i'iiii«? dear ii inoment, and then were lost, and lieard anew, without seeniinj»: cause for the break. Then came a fresh snatch of song : " Come o'er the stream, Charlie, Braw Charlie, brave Charlie; Come o'or the stream, Charlie, And dine with McClain." As she listened and caug'ht the wilder notes of Bur- nieboozle, they fell into the orchestral opjiositions of the rapids, and died to tlu; ear amid the cry and crash and hoarse noises of the broken waters. Rose saw the men rise and take their poles, and felt amidst the beautiful dim vision of white waVe-crests how tho frail canoe quivered as it was driven up the watery way. Then they kept to the shore under the trees, the poles monotonously ringing, with ever around her, coming and going, that delicious odor of the spruce, richest after rain, which to smell in the winter, amid the roar of the city, brings to the wood-farer the homesickness of the distant forest. Her dreamy mood on(^e broken was again disturbed by that rare speaker, the silent Polycarp. WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN 11 re. cere lost, le break. is of Buv- sitions of iiid crash s, and folt aVe-crosts n\ up tlio trees, tlio mud lier, u' spruce, iter, amid -farer the r dreamy that rare " I snu'U camp." " What ! " she said. '< Yes — very ^ood smell — when bacon fry — smell liim lonj^ away — t\v() mile." " 1 smell it," she .said. " How stranji:e ! " "Smell fry long way — .smell baccy not .so far. Smell Mr. Lyndsay pipe little whihf back." And now f:ir ahead she saw li<'hts, and started as tlu^ Indian smote the wat'n* with the flat ^^t his paddle, makinji' ahmd sound, which came back in altered notes from the hills abont them. " Make 'em hepr at (!amp." Presently she was at tin; foot of a little cliflp, where th(^ twins were already noisily busy. " Halloa, Rose ! Can you sec ? " " Yes, Jack." " Is n't it jolly ? Give me a hand." " No, me." " This beats Columbus," said the elder lad. " Take (tare, Spices" — this to the young'cr twin, who, by reason of many frcc^kles, was known in the houseludd, to his distrust, as the Cinnamon Bear, Cinnamon, Spices, or Bruin, as caju'ice dictated. " I '11 punch your red head, Ruf us," cried the lad. " You just wait. Ruby." " Boys ! boys ! " said Rose. '* Now each of j'ou give me a hand. Don't l)egin with a (piarrel." *' It is n't a quarrel; it 's a row," said Jack. " Adistinction not withoutadiflf erence,"laughed Rose. " Oh, here is everybody." And with jest and laughter they climbed the steps cut in the cliff, and gaily entered the cabin which was to be their home for some weeks. T 12 WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GUEEN ''i^t 'ill!).' Thoro was ft liirj^o, l(»w-nift('r('(l room, covered with bircfh-bark ot iiumy tints. On eaeli sidci were two eluunbers, for the ehh'rs. Tlu^ hoys, to their joy, were to sh'ep in tents on the l)hitl', near to wliere the tents of the guides were pitehed, a Ht'h( away from tiic^ (^ahin, and back of a roarinj:^ eamp-ilre. liehind the house u smaller cabin snfhced for a kitclien, and in Hie h)y;-liouse, wliere also a fb'e l)lazed in ruddy wel- (Mune, not iingratefid after the coolness of the river, the supper-table was already set. As Hose jj^ot up from table, after the meal, she missed hei* niothei- and, takinj"' a shawl, went out onto the porch whicli sur- rounded the house on all sides. For a monu'iit, she saw only the upward flare of the northern lights, and then, presently, Mrs. Lyndsaiy, standing silent on the bluff, with a hand on Ned's shoulder, looking across the river. Rose quietly laid the shawl over her mother's shoulders, and caught her hand. Mrs. Lyndsay said, " Thank you, dear Rose, but I want to bo alone a little. I shall come in verv soon." They went without a word, meeting theii* father just within the door. *' Mother sent us in," said Rose, " I understand," and he also turned back. " It is Harry! It is about Harry." ''Yes, it is Harry," repeated Rose; for the year biv fore Mrs. Lyndsay had left a little Aveakly fellow, her youngest, in the rude burial-ground of the snnUl Methodist church, some miles away, up the stream. She had been alone with Mr. Lyndsay and the child, and it had been her first summer on the river. When, the next spring, she had proposed to take thither the whole family, her husband had gladly consented. I with e two ', wore i tentH in the \n\ tlio and i" [\y wt'l- t» river, p.t up cr iiiul, icli sur- i-e of tlie jyiidsay, )ii Ned's otly liiid uj^'iit her Kose, hut i-y soon." thev just Rose. " It is year he- lit )W, her le siiudl e streiiiu. the chihl, When, lither the ntcd. CHAPTER II ~ni""i"^r JRS. LYNDS AY — comely, rosy, in M\ the vifjfor of younji; niiddle-lif(! — i was the first to welcome the sun, as ''"' it came over tlie hills heyond the river. In tlie camps was stir of breakfast, and silent, inverted cones of smoke from the fires. Soon Rose, on the edge of the cliflf, cried "Good morniny;!" and the mother saw the 8tron i WHEN ALL THE WOODS AKE GREEN a rare s, and lervant epublie tliat a i mut'li iuice of the (lef- ion. Ill •adeslnp 1111 afft'«'- tual dit'- coutests ncy, mid L the vest o-s whieh >us Aveve hipses, )y Eose. it l)eau- ,-n l)eh)\v kl water ! ()W hhielv that was Some- I mean ipid." ^' No, — oh, no ! " She was struck with the oddness of some aspects of his mind. " Was that what trou- bled you yesterday, Avhcn we were all lookinjjf at that great Jiare of red sunset lii^ht, — you would n't si)eakr' " It was beautiful, but — you won't tell, Rose 'i — the Bear and Rufus would laug'h at mc, — it was terrible!" She h)<)ked aside at him, curious and interested. "I think I understand, and I shall never, never laug'h at you, Ned. You must tell me everything'." "Souietiines I can't,"' he siiid. "It is queer, but sometimes I don't want to." Tie was truthful to a fault, aud was of no mind to make unconditional treaties. *'I iniderstand that, too"; and then they fell into lighter chat of friends and cousins, until Mr. Lynd- say called ''breakfast," from the cabin-door, and they went in. The twins were scarcely more than wide-awake enough to settle down to serious work at bread and butter and porridge. The canned milk they pro- nounced abominable, but soon learned that ]Mrs. May- brook's cows wcndd furnish a fair supply of theii* essential diet. Miss Anne came in a little wearily, glad as she nu)ved of the stay of a chair-back and the boys' help, for they all rose at once. " Did you sleep well ? " said Lyndsay. " Xo ; worse than nsuol." " I thought by your smiling ycm woidd have had a good night, but your dear old face is a, dreadful pur- vevor of libs. Are von feeling badlv to-dav l " *' Sh — sh — !" sh(i cried, ''don't dose me w'ith my- self, Archy ; as that di'lightful Mrs. Maybrook said to IT j ( n 16 WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN Margaret, * I do luite to be babied.' Is that your teiitli eoriicake, Jack ? " ** Ninth, aiiiity, — I have fo eat for you and me. I 'in like Thunder Tom's voiue." "Tliat 's the good of being- twins, — you eau eat for two!" eried Ned. " It 's my seventh," said Dick, eomphieently. " I wouhl n't be such a (1. I. P. as Jack." " Sudden deatli is Avhat he will get," returned Dick. " Your seventh," said Anne. '* But how can one die better than facing fearful odds?" And then there M'as a little moment of hiughtcr, and the gay chatter went on. At last Mr. Lyndsay said: "• When you are through, boys, with this astounding breakfast, we will talk of our plans. Your mother wants to go up the river. She shall have the two Gas[)e men. Rose, you will go with me for a first lesson in salmon-fishing, and you three boys shall go with Polycarp after trout. Luiu'h at one; and re- nuMuber, boys, no nonsense in the canoe, mind. This water is too cold aiul to(» swift to trifle with. You are a pretty bad lot, but I should not like to have to choose which I woidd part with. As jMarcus Aurelius said, ' Girls make existence difficult, but boys make it impossible.' " " Who ? What ? " cried Rose. " That was be(»ause of Master Commodus," said Ned. " I 'd like to have licked him," remarked Jack, whose remedial measures were always combativo. " He was not a nice boy, like me," said Dick with a grin. WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN 17 " Like who ? I liope he spoke Latin with doeciit coiTectiies.s. Out witli you ! " " I had ahno.st forgotten about Marc. Aurelius, aunt," said liose, aside. " I was really taken in for a moment!" It was a family fiction, and still a half belief, that Archibald livndsay would some day publish a great conunentary on the famous emperor's philosophy; mcMuwhile it served a variety of humorous purposes! '• / shall provide myself with a book and sunshine," said Miss Anne, "and then with a good field-glass, I shall own the world,— mental and physical." " But are the books nnpaciked t " said Rose. " No, but I have all I want. I nnist go and see." Hose set out a lounging-chair on the porch, put be- side it a foot-stool and a rude little table, made by a guide, and following her aunt to her room, came back laughing with an arm-load of books. Archibald Lynd- say smiled. '^ Xo wonder that man at St. Lambert's groaned over Anne's trunk." ''That delightful mail! " cried Rose, "who checked baggage, switched the trains off and on, sold tickets, answei-ed questions, and did the work of three and laughed for six. He told papa 'he guessed he was n't no Canadian. Xot much ! Had to go down to York State once a year to eat pumpkin-pie and get sot ud — kind of.' " " ^ " He was of the ])est type of our people," said Lynd- say. " (\)me, Rose ; Anne appears to be reasonablv sup]ilied." "I sh(mld think so, papa. But I must see,— wait a l)it." 3 Pr^ 1 :'f ; il i i r,n I il , 1 18 WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN " Oh ! " he exclaimed, picking the hooks up in turn, " ' Massilh^n,' ' Feuchtersleben,' what a name ! ^ Di- etetics of the Soul,' what a droll l)usin<'ss ! The Mys- tery of Pain, my poor Anne ! ' History of the Council of Trent,' good gracious ! " At this moment liis sister reappeared. *' Are you supplied for the morning, Anne ? Past risk t)f famine, eh ! " " Not too heavily," slie said. " You know Avhat Mar- cus Aurelius says about books. 'There is nothing as eco- nomical as a bad memorv, because then there ariseth no need to buy many books.' That is my case." " Then this is all," laughed Lyndsay, pointing with his pipe-stem to the table. ''Hum! Well, >vell! Come, Rose." " Yes, go ! " cried Anne, seating herself, " and take with you Epictetus. ' If that which is of another's life perplex thy judgment, go a-fishing, — for tlieri^ thou shall find more innocent uncertainties, and will capture the wha^'^ wisdom, if thou takest nothing else.' You may recall the i)assnge. Carp might have been the fish. Eh, Archie I " "Stuff and nonsense!" o'ied her brother, as they turned away. " Anne gets worse day by day, Rose. Come. Marcus Aurelius, E])ictetus, indeed!" As they went down the steps to tlie bluff, Anne Lyndsay, her thin white hands in her lap, looked after them. Her fa<;e was rarely without a smile; but, as Rose said truly, ''Aunt Anne wesirs her smiles with a difference." Just now lier smile was delic^ately flavored with a look of satisfied affection. As she looked over river and sun-lit hills, a sharp twinge of pain crossed 1 I WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN 19 in turn, e! 'Di- 'he Mys- I Council Arc you i: famine, hat Mav- ig-asceo- •0 aiiseth se." Ang with 11, well! and take another's for tlieri^ and will ling else.' lave been •, as they lay. Rose. I!" ulf, Anne )ked after e ; hut, as les with a y flavored oked over in crossed I f her Haw, and her hands shut tiglit a moment, while the sweat of a brief but overpowering pang wrung from lier lips an exclamation. Her life had been physically narrowing for years. As slie became less and less able to go liere and there, to do this or that, she more and more resolutely broadened the liorizon of her mental activities, but, no matter what happened, she (H)ntinued to smile at or with everything, herself in- cluded. Now she wiped her forehead, and fell to smiling again, h)oking sharply about her, for this woman immensely disliked to be seen in the rare mo- ments when pain was too emphatic for absolute sU lenc ' "^ "■ ' ' ' !e. I wonder why I hate to be seen," she said aloud, being unusually given to soliloquizing; for, as she liked to explain, *' I have more respect for my own opniion if I say it out. It is easier to disregard tho unspoken. I like to tliink I have the good manners to listen to myself. It does so trouble Archie, and that gn-1, for a day when I break up. I wonder if that small Spartan liad liad the perpetual company of his fox, liow long li(i would have gone on without squeal- mg. I know he wriggled," she said, and so feU to laughnig, after wliicli she lay back in her chair, waved lier handkerchief to Rose, and began to read. Wliile the Gaspe canoe went away up the stream urged by skilful arms, Archibald Lyndsay and Rose talked merrily. 'M told those boys to keep their eyes open, and not to come back and tell me they had seen nothing in partKMilar. As for Ned, lie is sure to see certain things and not others. He is a dreamer,- oh, worse than ever, my dear,— it grows on him.'- 3;l 20 WHEN ALL THE WOODS AKE GRE3N 1,1 ii " But his dreams — " " Yes, I know. Tliero is always sometliinp^ in thoni. He soeins to nie, Rose, too absent-minded for tliis world's uj-es. At times lie puzzles me. He is the duek in my henbrood." *' Ho is pure gold." "Yes, but when he comes to be put into current coin, — really, I don't know. As to Kufus, — Dick,! mean, I hate iiicknames, and this family has enough for a directory; you will have six a week, — as to Red-head—" Rose laughed. " I get no more respect in this household than — ^" " Oh, was that a salmon ? " A fish, some three feet h)ng, leaped high in air, dripping silver in the sun, and fell with a mighty swash into the glowing waters. " Yes ; there 's another ! As to Dick, he sees every- thing, and for (pu\stions — you are nothing to him. I wanted to talk to you about them, Rose." "And Jack?'' " Oh, Ja(?k ! Jack will do. He hates books, but he also hates defeat, — 'i first-rate quality, Rose. He is one of the three peoi)le I have seen in my life who lionestlj'' enjoy peril. That comes from his Uncle Robert. My poor Robin used to laugh when he rode into the hotfest fight ! " Rose, remembering how the major died at Antietam, was silent. Her father was also quiet for a few nu)- ments. " That boy must always be fighting somebody. Just now, he and Ned have a standing difficulty about the IN WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN 21 f in tlioiu. [ for this i the du(;k CllVVCMlt. — Di(;k, I IS eiiou^'h ?k, — Jis to than—" three feet I the sun, ng' waters. sees every- to him. I Dks, but he ise. He is y life who liis Uneh^ en he rode b Antietani, • a few nio- body. Just V Jibont the " Roundheads and Jacobites. I believe it has cost two black eyes already." " How funny ! What do you do about it ? " " I ? Nothing'. Ned is like a cat for activity, small as he is, and as to an occasional black eye,— well I don't ask too many questions." " But does n't it distress mother ? " '' Yes, yes, of (iourse ; but so long- as they love one another, I find it wise to say little. By ancl by, dear, wluMi you are married, and have a lot ()f boys of your own, you will understand the wisdom of knowing- when not to see,— when not to ask questions." This astounding improbability, of a sudden, struc^k ]{ose dumb. Then she said, abruptly, '• Who is that away up the riv(^r ?" " Two young- Boston men. Are they frojn the island (!amp, Tom ? " "Yes, sir," said Tom, in his g-reat voice. "Mr. Ellett, and Mr.— I don't rig-litly mind me of the other man's name. Thiidv it 's Caring-ton." " Rather a pretty name," said Rose,— '' Caring-ton." " Not a New Eng^land name, I suspect. Proliably Southern. How easily one tells where most of m reel to flv. There are men who can cast one hundred feet and more, but here it is needless. I could not do it if it were needed." Rose began to think all this a little slow, for a i)as- tirae. At last Lyndsay, saying, " Drop, Tom," reeled up his line Avithin a few feet from the long silk leader. As he gave the word, the lump of l"ad used as an an- chor was lightly lifted and held well in hand, the sternman used his paddle, and the boat dropped some forty feet farther down tlu^ i)ool, and Avas gently anchored. The stream at this place was more broken, and was what Tom called " strong Avater." vr TT^as I'f; ■' ' I' 1 . ii 24 WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN 'I V Tlie cjistinpf business began again, witli no better result, so tliat Hose, to wlioni it all looked easy enough, began to find it more pleasant to watifli the shadows of the hills and the heavy elouds moving overhead. Mr. Lyndsay was now (uisting some fifty feet of line, and, as Rose turned, trying to analyze for her own use the suceession of movements, she was struek with the graee and easi^ with which the line was recovered at the end of the east, — sent ai)i)arently Avithout effoi't direc'tly behind the fisherman, and then with- out eraek or snap impelled in a straight line to right or left at an angle from the boat, so that the easting- line and fly dropped or settltHl lightly on the water; the fly always maintaining its place at the end of the east. Then she heard, ** You riz him ! " " We have; ti(?kled his fancy, Rose, or tempted his curiosity. Now we have a little game to play. Sonu'times we wait a few minutes. I rarely do so unless the fish are scarc^e. Look sharp. Did you see hii:^ rise ? " '' No." '' That fish lies in a line with yonder dead i)ine. In this (piick water the fly buries itself, but as I follow it with the rod, you can guess its place. Most commonly a salmon remains in one spot, with his nose up-stream, and — ' '' Oh ! '' (!ried Rose, as the fly reached the indicated spot and a swirl in the Avater and a broad back caught her eye. "Oh! oh!" *' It has all the charm of gambling," said Mr. Lynd- say, " without the badness." " Will he rise again ? " " Perhaps. Ah, not this time " ; and after a couple of casts, he said, " Put on a black dose." M WHEN ALL THE WOODS AliE GREEN 2r> "A what?" " Our flies luivo nil mjiniicr of qnvov iiaincs. This is a ' iliirk fly,' quitfi uiiliku tlu^ ln*ij,'ht (hxitor. It inny tempt him." And at th(f first oust, with tho same li!iij»;th of line, the peaceful s(H'iie was turned into one of intense excitement. " There ! " cried Hose. *' Oh ! " for as the; new fly rea(^hed the fated spot, there was a suddi'U flash of white a dozen yards away. The; reel ran out a few feiit, the rod was lifted and turned over to hrin^; the winch to the rijiht hand, and the pressure on tho en- tire length of the bendinj^ rod. The anghir sat down. Tom meanwhile had called to the bownnin as the fisii struck, and the anchor was instantly drawn up. For this brief interval of time the jj^reat salmon stayed, pausing-. *' Thinking wliat 's wrong," said Lynd- say. TIk* next instant tlu^ reel sang, and some two hundred feet of line ran out with in(rredible swiftness. Far away across the stream a great white thing leaped high out of the water, as Lyndsay dropped the tip of his rod to relax the tension of the line. " How exciting it is ! " cried Rose, as the fish leaped again. '^ I don't sympathize with the salmon at all ; I am intent on murdering him." " Fresh run and clean," said Tom, — " a beauty ! " The canoe, urged by deft paddles, moved across the river. The tension relaxing, Lindsay reeled up line. Then again there was a wild rush up river. " Tom, quick ! After him ! " The next moment the line came back, slack. " Oh ! " cried Rose, " he is gone ! " "No! no!" shouted Tom. "Reel! reel, sir!" ar"" presently the long, loose line grew tight, for the sal- 20 WHEN ALL TIIH WOODS AUK OUERN li'.' moil had tunicd and mado strai^lit tor the l)oat. Now, oiHH> more, he bi'okt' watci', thirty fci't away. "Them loii^ runs tuvs Vm," said Tom, "and thu jumps tires 'cm morc^ Showed his lu'lly. sir." Lyndsay now slowly lifted liis rod-tip, throwinj^; it baek of him, and t-hen lowei'in^- it as lu> iveovered the line. '* Take enre, sir!" cried Tom, for once more there was a tierce, sh(M't dash across, an: wliih' in i\\v rivers; l»nt trout aro i)i^s for jj^rccdinoss. When I loiiketl this liun^ry trout (»ver, he was still bleeding' from a Ush- hawk's <'laws, and his intestines and liver were han^;- inj? in the water. Sueh pain, or injtiry if you like, as this, does in nuiu utterly destroy appetite and (Miuse inaction. The infereiu'e is plain enouj^di : fish cannot ]w said to sutfer what we call pain. I on<'e took a striped bass which had been terribly torn by a ^aff. On the whole, Hose, I concludt^ that, as we j^o down the scale of life, tlu're is h'ss and less of what we call pain, and at last, probably, only somcthinji' nearer to discomfort or inconvenien«*e." "Is that so i Then we hold our higher jdnce at the cost of sulferinj»', which must increase as we ^o on rising? throujfh \\w aj»'es to come?" "Yes," said Lyndsay, looking aside with freshened <'uriosity at this youn«»' lojjiician. " Yes, the rule must work l)(>th ways. But man alone has the power to limit, lessen, even annihilate pain. Tlu^ amount of pain in the civilized world must have been vastly diminished witiiin forty years, sinc(> we j^'ot ether and the like." " And will not that in time lessen our power to en- dure'? lint then," she added (puckly, '4hat mi^ht be of less moment if we are alwavs increasini>lv able to diminish or stop i)ain." Lyndsay smiled. This alert jxrasp of a subject was a novel acquisition. As he was adjustinjj: a tly, and the boat was dropi)in ■ I I' f W'^t 34 WHEX ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN " It is so pleasant to drift ! " " Yes ; that is the charm of the life. Nobody el- bows you here ; no rude world jostles your moods. You may entertain the gentle melancholy of Pense- roso or the entire idk'ness of Adam before the apple tempted him. You may be gay and noisy, — no one is shocked ; and then, the noble freedom of a flannel shirt and knickerbockers ! Why do we ever go back ?" *' There is a queer indefiniteness about it all to me," said Rose. ''I cannot get into any full — T mean interested — relation with the life and all there is in it. I don't say just what I mean." ''I see, Rose: from Rome to this is a long way, — 'a far cry,' we say in Scotland. Let yourself go. Drift, as you said." "Ah," said Rose, " "T is pleiisant drifting, drifting, Where tlie shores are shifting, sliiftiug, And the Dream God has the tiller, Aud Fancy plies the oar.' .'; '!i' It is not always easy to drift, and I ai "ot yet enough at ease to drift. I fiiul, Pardy, that the changes at home are very great. I am getting slowly used to them. The boys seem new creatures. You are just the same. But mama! I am so sorry for her." " That will come right, dear. The mother-wounds heal slowly. As for me, I own to no discontent about my boy's death. Most people hold foolish notions as to death. In my third chapter on Marcus Aurelius, I have given a history of opinion about death. It has i •I WPIEN ALL TFIE WOODS ARE GREEN 33 had strange variations. Really, we are very stupid as to the matter. The old heathen is fine about it: ' Thou hast embarked. Thou hast made the voyage. Thou art come to shore ; leave the ship. There is no want of Gods even there.' " " Yes, but— I did not embark," said Rose. " I was put on as freight. I — "' '' How horribly exact you are for a summer day ! I won't argue with you ; you love it. How quiet it is ! Not a leaf stirs. How completely peaceful! The drowsiness of noon." " Yes, it is like 'tlie peace that is past understand- ing.' I never think of that phrase," she added, after a ] '.use, " without a little puzzle of mind about it. Aunt Anne says it is so altogether nice after a mourn- ful length of sermon ; but Aunt Anne is terrible at times. I often wonder what people who do not know her well must think of her. What I mean is — Well, it is hard to state, Pardy. Is the peace so great that we have no earthly possibility of apprehending its re- lief from the unrest of this life f — or that — Don't you dislike to stumble in thinking? I — it does not seem to me as if I wanted peace. Is that dreadful ? " " No, dear. But some day you may, and there are many kinds. I sometimes crave relief from mere in- tellectual turmoil. Another yearns after the day when his endless battle with the sensual shall cease. One could go on. Perhaps for you, .and for all, the indefiniteness of the promise is part of the value of its mystery. That is widely true. You may one day come to love some man, and to entirely believe in his promise of love. Yet you will not fully know what ill li. . f i:: lii 36 WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN that means, — j'ou cannot ; and yet you trust it, for the inner life after all rests on a system of credits, as business does. Do you follow nief" " Yes," she said, with a little doubt. "Yes, I think I do ; and yet it is not pea e I want, if that means just merely rest." " Oh, no ; surely not finality of action. Remember that with that promise of peace is to come increase of knowledge of God, which means all knowledge. We see and hear now the beautiful in nature, and are troubled by its apparent discords. There the true harmonies of it all shall be ours to know. It is like learning the reasons for the music we hear now with only joy and wonder." ''That may be so. To like or love a person, a friend, is pleasant ; but to love and also fully to un- derstand a friend is better. Then one is at ease, one has true peace, because we have then knowledge with love." " That was nicely put, my child, but c .ic can't talk out in full such subjects as this. One can only sow seed and trust to the fertilization of time. Where did you get your quotation about drifting ? " " I do not know ; Aunt Anne would." '' Oh, that, of course," said Lyndsay ; " she told us once that not to know the name of the man you (^uote is a form of ingratitude : to take the gift and forget the giver." " That is so like her: to label want of memory as intellectual ingratitude." " When we laughed," said Lyndsay, '' she added that quotations were mean admissions of our own incapa- \ i WHEN ALL THE WOODS AKE GREEN ;J7 y as. that Capa- city of statement, (luiborne was dining with us, — you shoukl have heard his coniiiients. You know how perplexiiijj^ly droll she is at times, and wlien she is in what the boys eall a 'gale' of merry mind-play." "It sounds familiar. Aunt Anne is not above re- peating her jests. I recall it now. She insisted gaily tliat it is bad manners to call up the spirit of a man, and accept his contribution to your needs, and then to say, 'Sorry I forgot your name,' and just show him to the door of your mind. She is great fun, sometimes." "Yes, sometimes. The fun is not always lioneyed. or — if it looks so — of a sudden the hees crawl out of it and sting folks; but who can wonder? If it helps Anne to clap an occasional mustard-i)laster on me, dear lady, she is welcome." " Once, Pardy, in Venice, she was in dreadful pain, and some women got in by mistake. She was per- fectly delightful to those people. When they went away, I said, 'Aunty, how much better you are ! ' And what do you think she replied ? ' You will never know, dear, whether you have good manners or not until you have pain for one of your visitors,' and then she fainted. I never know her to faint, and I was dreadfully scared." " She ought to have excused herself," said Lyndsay. " It was heroic foolishness." " I suppose it was." " You need not suppose, — it was ! I hate to think of how she suffers. Look at yonder lot of firs and spruce with the gray, green, drooping mosses on them. After a rain that hillside looks like a great cascade, 3* !i ^ pi I -I,' (I ■' f ! !l 38 WHEN ALL THE WOODS AKE GREEN Yuu see the moss hangs in arrow-hotid shapes, like those of falling water. It is so hard to set these simple things in words — you can describe them with half a dozen pencil-marks. I envy you the power. I have to sti 3k to my old habit of word-sketches, about which our friend, tluj doctor, once wrote, as you know. On Sunday we will have a run up-stream, and a big wood-and-water chat." As he spoke the canoe slipped around a little head- laud, and was at once close to the cliff camp. " That does u't h)ok very peaceful," cried Rose. " Oh, they will be killed ! " and she started up. " Keep still," said her father ; " you will upset us." What she saw looked grim enough : a tangle of three boys, rolling down some fifteen feet of graveled slope; then the three afoot; two or three savage blows, fierce cries, and a sudden pause, as Lyndsay called out : '' Hullo there I — quit that. Jack ! Stop, Ned ! " Their faces were very red, their clothes covered with dirt. There was silence and instant obedience. Mrs. Lyndsay stood imploring at the top of the cliff, and Anne was standing by with a queer smile on her face, and her fingers in a book. " Who began it, boys ? What is it all about?" Jack spoke first : " Dick hit Ned, and he 's too small for him, and so I hit Dick." "He might have let us alone. I 'm as good as Dick any time," said the slightest of the lads, with no show of gratitude. "He said I was a fool," explained Dick. "Ned 's quite a match, but Jack can't keep out of a row." (. T HEN ALL THE WOODS AKE GREEN HO "And so it was two to one, was it? I can't stand that: no more flshinj? to-day or to-morrow, Master Jack." " Yes, sir." " And now, wliat was tliis war abont ? " " Well, Ned he said Claverhouse was a bloody vil- lain, and I said he was a gallant gentleman, and Ned said I was a fool." " That was a difference of sentiment which has cost blood before," laughed Anne, frori the bluff. Ned grinned as he wiped a bloody nose. " Oh, do keep quiet, Anne," said her brother; " this is my affair. How is it, Ned, and you, Dick ? Is it settled? If not, there is room back of the hous?. This fighting before women is not to my taste. But is all this just as Dick says, Ned ? " "Why, father, I — I said it." And Dick's face flushed. "You are right, sir; I beg pardon. As you seem indisposed to have it out, shake hands ; but an honest shake. It must be peace or war ; no sullenness." "All right, sir. I 'm soriy, Dick." "I 'm not— very," said Dick; but he put his hand on Ned's shoulder, and kindly offered a second hand- kerchief. "Now, you mad Indians, go and make yourselves decent. It is time for luncheon." Rose went up the chff to where Miss Anne still stood. "I think it is dreadful, most dreadful." " I used to, my dear, but on the whole it clears the air, and the boys seem none the worse for it. Jack is usually the ferment; Dick is hot of temper; and !p 40 WHKN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN Nod, my doaiv N(h1, would die on the rack for a sentiment." When tlie funiily sat down to the luncheon, a stranjjfer would have detected no evidijnce of the re- cent warfare. The mother, once or twice, cast an anxious look at the slij^ht enlargement of Ned's nose, hut, to the surju'lse of Rose, what had seemed to her an ani^rv contest nuide no kind of alteration in the good humor of the lads. Ned was as usual silent ; but Dick and Ja(!k were busily discussing the color of the trout they had taken : some were dark, some brighter in tint. It was the good habit of this old-fashioned house- hold to invite the talk an3 came upon a nulo cleariiifif and a rough-looking log- cabin, surrounded with fire-scarred and decaying stumps. The huge wood-pile, as high as the eaves, struck Rose. "How that makes one think of the terrible cold and the loneliness of winter here, — no books, no corn- pan; what can they do ? " " It recalls to me," said Lyudsay, " the curious use of the word * stove ' in Labrador, where, even more than here, it is important. You ask how many people there are, say, at Mingan ? The reply is sure to be, ' Oh, there are twenty-seven stoves.' But how many people ? * T don't know; there are twenty-seven stovcM.'" At the open door Lyndsay knocked, and in a moment came through the gloom within a tail, sallow woman. A soiled and much-mended brown gingham gown hung down from broad but lean shoulders over hips as lean and large. As she came to the door, she hastily Inittoned her dress awry across the fleshless meagerness of her figure. " How do you do, Mrs. Colkett ? " said Lyndsay. '* Now, ain't it Mr. Lyndsay ? I 'm that wore out I did n't know you. Set down"; and she wiped a chair and a rickety stool with the skirt of her gown. '* I did n't know you, sir, till you came to speak. Was you wantin' Joe ? " ''No; we came over because Dorothy Maybrook left word your boy was sick. This is my daughter Rose. We brought some lemons and other trifles. The little man might like them." As she turned, Rose took note of the unkempt hair, the slight stoop of the woman's unusually tall figure, f54 WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN r and tho slioclcsa, uncovered, and distoi't(!d feet. Not loss tho dosoluto, oomfortloss cabin cau^lit her eye, — the rude wooden furniture, and the bed, whence came the Iioarse breathing of tho sick child. To her sur- prise, Mrs. Colkett said : "Dory 3Iaybrook 's always a-fussin' over other folks' concerns, 'stead of niindin' her own p^ Irs." Lyndsay, who was standing beside Rose, looked up at the woman. '' I think," he said, " Dorothy is incapable oi want- ing to be other than kind." " S'pose so. She might of let on she was goin' a-beggin' " '^Oh, ii was not that," cried Rose, bewildered by the woman's mode of receiving a kindness. " Dare say : maybe not. All tho same, me and Joe ain't never asked no favors. Set down, miss." '*Xo, t^puk you," returned Rose, and began to empty her basket of fniii and other luxuries. "We cn'jio oveiy' said Lyiulsay, "because my wife tiioug]».t you might need help." " It nin'l nu use. It was n't never no use. That boy 's a-gom' like the rest." " I trust not so bad as that." " Yes ; he 's a-goin' like them others." " You have lost other children ? " said Rose, gently, looking up as she cleared the basket. "Yes; two, and he 's the last. They had n't no great timti while they was ,'ilive, and now they 're lyiu' out in the wood, and no more mark over 'em than if they was dead drit;,s. Vliere won't no one care. ?j WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE (JUEEN 5D "Yes, I shall (lare; I do fijirc, Mrs. Colkett. Oh, is n't it hard to say why siu^h thiii«,'s do hiippcirr' '* Happen ! " said the woman. " Dorothy, she says Uod took them ehihlren. I 'd like to know why ^ Preachin' 's easy business. God! What do I know about God, ex(!ept that ho 's done nothin' for mef And I 'ni to be thankful, — what for?" As she spoke a hoarse sound eame from the bed. " For that poor little man a-eroakin' there, I suppose ! " As Rose was about to reply, her father touched lier arm, and, understandin<>' that argument was thus hinted to be unwise, she said: " Let me see the little fellow? " " You nuiy, if you 've a mind. 'T ain't no good. When it is n't any good, it is n't any good, and that 's all there is to it." Rose went up to the bed. A sickening odor filled the close air. She saw beneath her a stout little boy of ten, hot and dusky red with fever, his lips purple, two small hands tightly locked, with the thumbs in the palms, the head, soaked with the death-sweat, rolling rhyth- micallv from side to side. The woman followed her. " Has he had any one to see him ?" said Lyndsay. "Yes. We had a doctor from down river. He came twice. He was n't no use. He took 'most all the money we had left." " We shall be glad to help you." " Much obliged, sir. It 's only to bury him now. There 's one mercy anyways, — it don't cost much for funerals up here. It 's just get a preacher and dig a hole and my man to make a box. Thank you, all the same.'' 56 WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN I I Here was poverty so brutal in its results that even the pretense of sentiment was absent. Rose was troubled. Before her was death, and it was new to her. She turned to her father. " Oh, can't some- thing be done?" He tried a moment with unprofessional awkward- ness to find the pulse. There was none he could feel. "What did the doctor say ? What is the matter with the boy, Mrs. Colkett?" " He left some medicine stuff ; but laws ! the child could n't take it. The doctor he says it 's diphthery, or something like that. I don't rightly know. It don't matter none." All this was said in a slow monotone, as if, Rose thought, — almost as if the woman, the mother, had been an uninterested spectator. After a pause she added, in the same slow voice : "If he 's goin' he '11 go, and that 's all there is of it." At the word diphtheria, Lyndsay recoiled, pushing- Rose back from the bed. "Harry!" he exclaimed. " It was that ! Go out. Rose ! Go at once ! " " Lord, is it ketchin' ? " said the woman, shrinkin;? back from the bed. "That fool never said so. If I 'm to git it, I guess the mischief 's done. If Joe he gits it, Hiram '11 have to make the box." " Come away. Rose." The girl was divided between horror and pity. At the door she turned. " I ara not afraid. Let me stay, father, - 1 must stay ! " "No; it is useless, and might be worse than use- less." As she obeyed him, a short, squat figure of a WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN 57 man coming into the doorway darkened the dimly lit room. He moved aside as Rose went ont into the Sim Lyndsay went by him also, and the man, turn- ing back, said, - It 's about all over, I guess. We We end of troubles." '' Co^^ie this way," returned Lyndsay. -And you, Kose, wait by the fence." He saw but too clearly that the stout, ruddy little man had been taking whisky. Joe Colkett followed him. "Good Lord, my man, that child is dying,- will be dead, I am sure, before night; and here you are in liquor just when that poor woman most wants help " I ain't that drunk I can't do chores. Fact is Mr Lyndsay, I went down to ask Dory Maybrook jus' to lend me a little money. That doctor he took most all my wood wage." 1 "Well?" " She would n't do it " "Well?" " She said she 'd come up and help, an' if my old woman wanted any she might have it. That ain't no way to treat a man." "No," said Lyndsay, with such emphasis as satis- hed his own conscience, and also the duller sense of the lumberman. "No,- that is not the way to treat a man. Listen to me, Joe : Don't drink any more." ^ "I ain't any," said Joe. "Really?" 1 Money earned by lumbering in the winter woods. 58 WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN I i m li'i '' Not a drop. It was just a bit I had left." " Come to me when it is all over, and I will pay the doctor's bill, and you can help clear oif the brush back of my cabin." " Thank you, sir." " You don't drink often, I think. Why should you now ? "Was it trouble — about your child ? " " He was n't my child." " What ! " exclaimed Lyndsay, puzzled ; " how is that ? " *^ My wife was a widder, you see, and them Avas all her first man's ; I never had no child. 'T ain't like it Avas my own child. He was awful spiled, that boy. I licked him two weeks this Sunday comin' for makin' fire by the wood-pile. Gosh, what a row Susie did make ! " " My God ! " exclaimed Lyndsay. The man understood him well enough. "Oh, I don't go to say I did n't like him none. Lord, I 'd done most anything to git that boy well. I wanted that money to help put him undergi-ound. It don't cost much burjdn' up here, but it ain't to be done for nothin', and you 've got to look ahead. There 's the minister 's got to be fetched, and — and—" Here the man sat down on a stump, and putting a palm on each temple and an elbow on each knee, looked silently down at his mother earth. Respect for the moods of men is one of the deli- cacies of the best manners. Lyndsay was still a minute. Then he put a hand on Joe's shouldet*. "How else can we help you?" WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN 59 "It 's my woman I 'm a-thinkin' of." He spoke without looking up. " This thing 's the last and the wust,-it 's goin' to down her awful. And there ain't nothin I can do,-nothin'!" Here he passed his sleeve across his eyes, and then glanced at the unac- eustonied moisture, and had a dulled remembrance ot having cried long years before; he failed to recall why or just when. " You 're a-thinkin' I 'm a mean man to be a-drinkin' and that child a-dyin' in yon ; and that woman ! That's where it gits a man. I ain't been a bad man to her • I vo took care of them children right along, Mr' Lyndsay, and I never beat her none, and I don't mind me I ever used no bad words to her, not when I was wore out, and -and -had n't a shillin', and was busted up with blaekleg.i I don't git it clear, sir- 1 dont cjire most none for that child, but she might kdl me If It would git it well. I don't see nothiiAo do but drink, and that 's the fact." Lyndsay stood silent in thought. He had seen enough of life not to wonder that drink could be dis tmctly regarded as, under stress of circumstances, an available resource. Ho had also seen men or women cjT.able of a single affection, and of only one. What there was to know of this man's relations to his wife and her offspring had been uncovered with frank bru tc.lity. He had said there was nothing for him except to drink. ^ I' But if you love your wife, my man, you want to help her, and if you drink you are useless,- and in fact, you add to her troubles." ' 1 The scurvy of the lumberman,- more rare nowadays. 60 WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GEEEN Vi- "It ain't that, sir. Fact is, she don't care a'most none for and there 's the truth. You id n't WOUi think, sir, what a pretty woman she was. She took me to get them children a home and feed. Dory, she knows. I ain't given to tellin' it round, but you 're different. Somehow it helps a man to say things out." Here was the strange hurt of a limited tenderness, with all this rudeness of self-disclosure, and, too, some of the stupid, careless immodesty of drink. " I take it kindly," said Lyudsay, " that you have told me the whole of your troubles. Come over and see me. I left some tobacco on the table for you." "Much obliged, sir," and, rising, Joe took Mr. Lyndsay's offered hand. "I '11 come," he said, and walked back toward the cabin, while Lyndsay, beck- oning to Rose, turned into the ox-road which led to the shore. For a while they were silent. Then he said, " This child is dying of a fever ; no word of the diphtheria to your mother or even to Anne." " One can escape mama easily, but Aunt Anne is a relentless questioner." " I will speak to her." " That would be better, I think. How horrible it all was ! And that woman ! Do you think she really did not care ! " " No, no, dear. Imagine a life of constant poverty, utter want of means, — to-day's wages meaning to- morrow's bread ; a cruel soil ; a mortgaged farm at that ; then one child after another dying ; the help- lessness of want of money ; the utter lack of all re- r k WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN (51 sources; the lonely, meager life. This woman has the moral disease of one long, unchanging monotony of despair." "I see — I see — you know more, and that makes you forgive more." "Some one has said, Rose, that to be able to explain all is to be able to forgive all, and that only One can truly explain all." "It seems to me, Pardy, that poverty has more temptations in it than wealth, and more explanations of sin, too. Is n't the man a brute, Pardy ? He had been drinking, and to drink at such a time ! " "No; he is coarse, but not a bad fellow. You or T would have much we could turn to if trouble came upon us. This man has nothing. It does not sur- prise me that he drank. It is not his habit. But let us drop it all now. I am sorry I took you." He was not unwise enough to speak of the anguish of dread which had possessed him as he stood by the bedside, and now made haste to add, "And yet the lesson was a good one. You won't want to fish, I fear?" He had in some ways appreciative touch of his kind, and knew the daughter well. " No, no ; not to-day. Let us go home." "As you please, dear"; and they slid away swiftly down the gleaming water as the evening shadows crept across the stream. After awhile Rose said, looking up, "You must have seen, oh, so many people die, Pardy." "Yes; Death was for four years a constant com- rade. I had always a firm belief I would not be killed. Some men were always predicting their &2 WHEN ALL THE WOODS AHE CJKEEN :'. own (lojitlis; others carefully uvoided the question. I know one very givllant fellow who was always a gay comrade in camp, and almost abnormally merry in battle unless the fight took place on a day of the month which was an odd uumber. Then he was sure to think he would be killed. Men in war mv. like gamblers, and have queer notions as to luck. You knew that child was dy:ng?" "Yes." " How did you know it ? " " I cannot tell. What troubled me, Pardy, was — I think what troubled me— was the loneliness of death; that little fellow going away and away, all bv himself." " Yes, dear. ' Once, onee only, lovo imist drop tho hand of love ! ' " '• But Avhat a horrible woman ! I can't help think- ing that." " Was she ? Perhaps ; I don't know." His charity was older than hers. ''Did you notice. Rose, her sad fatalism: if the child was to die, it would die?" "Yes; it was a strange illustration of our talk." CHAPTER V K liave so far lieard little of Mrs. Lymlsay; but, in fact, slie was usually more felt than heard in the every-day life of the household. Archibald Lyndsay said, '' She had but one defect, and that was not a fault. She was so entirely good that she lacked all human opi)ortunity for the exercise of repentance." '' There is no credit to be had in this world, my dear, for monotony of virtue," said Anne Lyndsay. '' When you do some of your sweet, nice things, that cost you no end of trouble, people merely say, ' Oh, yes, Margaret Lyndsay ! but she likes to do that kind of thing.' For my part I prefer that wise mixture of vice and virtue which gives variety of flavor to life, and now and then adds the unexpected." This was said at breakfast on Sunday morning, the day after Rose had seen the dying lad, who now lay quiet in the dismal cabin where the mother sat angrily brooding over her loss. Lyndsay had spoken of some pleasant act of thoughtful kindness on the part of his wife ; and as Anne, iiughing, made her comment, Margaret had shaken a menacing finger at her kindly critic, savin"- quietly : 63 64 WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN " Oh, I think we aro very much alike, Anne " j at which there was a general outbreak of mirth, for these people were much given to laughter. Lyndsay declared that he had observed the re- semblance. " And the boys inherit our goodness," added Anne, demurely. "At least, it seemed to me I had evi- dence of it pretty early to-day ; but then the hymn says, ^ Let boys delight to bark and bite.' I disre- j'lember the rest, as Peter, our cook, says." At this Xed gave his aunt's gown a gentle pull, by way of respectfully intimating that she was getting them into difficulties. " * Let ' is permissive," she went on. " I was not really disturbed, Archie"; for her brother was now curiously regarding a rather distinct scratch on Dick's ruddy cheek. " Raspberry thorns, Dicky 1. " he said, maliciously. "No, sir." "Sleep-cats," said Anne. "That was always our nursery explanation." "What then? Another row? I thought we had had enough for a week." " And on Sunday morning, Dick ! " said the mother. " I would n't." Anne looked up, amused at this latter declaration. " Never mind, Margaret," said her husband. " What was it about, boys ? " "Oh, it was n't much of a row. It was only a scrimmage," said Dic]r. "Ned said King James cut off Raleigh's head because he would smoke tobacco. Did you ever hear such nonsense?" WHEN ALL THE WOODS AliE (HtEEN 05 "But Aunt Anne told nio King James wrote a book against smoking,— did n't you, aunt?" urged the snudler lad. " And I said it was ridiculous," cried Dick. " And Jack he up and said it was n't, because if he was a king, and people did n't do as he wanted, he would ciit off their heads, like that," said Ned, knock- ing off the end of an egg, by way of illustration. ''And so we had a nielley," remarked Jack. ''It was n't much, and that 's all there was of it. I don't see why people make such a fuss." "Suppose you let this suffice for the day, you rascals," said Mr. Lyndsay. "Yes, sir." , " And it was n't Raleigh who brought tobacco to England, was it, Aunt Anne?" said Ned. "I told Dick it was Ilnvvkins, and he would n't believe nie. I saw it in — " "Where?'' Ned hesitated. His habit of lying on his stomach on the floor in the long winter afternoons, with some monstrous quarto, was matter for unending chaff on the part of the twins. "Where was it, old Book Gobbler?" cried Dick. "Where was it?" " It was in Ilollinshead's CUironicles," returned the lad, coloring. "You are right," said Aunt Anne. "You would do better to read a little more yourself, Jack, than to laugh at Ned." " What 's the use, if I am going to West Point? " said Jack. 00 WIIExX ALl. THE WOUDS AKE (JUEEN " You will iiud out, I taney, wlieu you j^'ct there," romiirked Kose. " I am told it is dreadful." " Well, there 's time eiiou{4:li to think about it," rn- turued Jaek, with his usual philosophieal ealm. "I wish it was n't Sunday. Oh, dear ! " and he groaned in anticipation of the dullness of the day. " Jack ! ' exclaimed the mother. *' Oh, Jack ! " "Well, you <%'iii't g'o to ehun^li, and there 's no fish- ing; and, mother, you know you don't like us to rend novels on Sunday, and I 've read voyages until I know all there arc up here, — and I don't see what a fellow is to do." " T shall road the service before you all s(!atter." '' W' ', that does n't take hmg."^ As a means of passing the linu', this device of her sister-in-law enormously delighted Anne. " I confess to a certain amount of syni])arhy with the unem- ployed. It is a SabWath lockout." Margaret turned on her with abruptness; but Lyndsay said, quickly: " My dear Anne, this is Margaret's business. Keep out of other folks' small wa rs. Vou are as l)ad as Jack." "That is true, Archie. I am a conversatiomd free lance. I beg pardon, Margaret. I will never, never do it again." " Not until the next time," returned Mrs, Lyndsay, with unusual ascerbity. " It is really of no nu)inent," she added, " but I like to manage the boys myself." " You are right. I was wrong to meddle," " I propose," said Lymlsaj^, " that the two Gaspe mer shall take you fellows up the Arrapedia. You wiU find it hard work if they let you pole, and you WHEN ALL TIIK WOODS AliE UKKEN (17 (iiiii't, , Bible tlmt tlu; vvoi'ld will be destroyed, and, if tliere wan an impenetrable, that eoidd n't be at all, — I say it could tCt be." " Shade of CUnifneins ! " exclaimed Anne. " But suppose." " I eaii't." He had a sense of wrath at the «[uestion. At last he said, " You might as we^^ ask a fellow what would happen if the impossible met the incom- prehensible." " Glory ! what dictionary words ! " cried Dick. ''Pretty well, old feUow," said Lyndsay, huighiny- as they rose. '' Oh, I hate things likc^ that." " Rose, Rose, put some lunch in a basket. We shall nnike a day of it. We will take the skitt' and Tom. Put my note-book and pencils in tlie b.isket, and your sketch-book ; and don't forget m\ field-glass. Won't you come, Margaret ? '' ''No; I am going to Mrs. Maybrook's this moaning, and, Archie, I want Hiram to attend to something :it the chiu'ch where Harry is. Don't trouble about uie." " Anne, won't you come with us ? " "No; I am not good for all day. I shall go and have a talk with Mrs. Maybrook this afternoon. If I lie down until then, I may manage it. Margaret says it sweetens one for a week to see that woman. I mean to try the recipe." "I am getting very curious about her," said Rose; "and there is so much to do, and I nnist catch a salmon to-morrow." " We kill salmon," said LAudsav. I I? WIIKX AIJi TIIK WUODH AWK (iUKHN (l!) % " B«it y possessed. .'i> she lay at more than usual ease, dreamily hapi)y as he noti(H'd the sun, the shadows, and the far- K-;' cliing: curves of the river, she saw a dugout, ,• hat in the North is called a pirogue,^ put out from the farther bank. A wonum stood in the stern and urged it across the swift current with notable strength and dexterity. Presently it ran onto the beach, and Dorothy Maybrook came up the steps, a basket in her iiand. 1 Si>aiii8h, inriacjim. 70 WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN As to most things, all books, and people in general, Anne Lyndsay had a highly vitalized curiosity ; but, as to this woman, it was more eager than usual. She was mildly skeptical as to the fact that the wife of a small Quaker farmer, illy educated, and, of course, without the tact which makes sympathy acceptable, could have been what Margaret Lyndsay said this woman had been to her in the last summer's trial. Anne was apt to distrust Mrs. Lyndsay's unwonted enthusiasms. Also, this invalid lady was very demo- cratic in theor}', but by nature's decree an aristocrat, whether she would or not. Thus, Anne Lvndsav was now a little on her guard, and more curious than she would have liked to have been thought. But when, as Dorothy Maybrook advanced, a pair of large gray eyes came into the horizon of another pair almost as luminous, Anne, as she afterward ex- plained, felt something akin to fascination. She made up her mind as Mrs. Maybrook approached that her facial expression was one of strange purity of repose. The next moment Miss Anne cast a foot over the hammock's edge, and made an effort to rise, in order to greet the new-comer. But to get out of a ham- mock with ease is not given to mortals to achieve without much practice, and as all rapid movements were sure to summon at once her unrelenting enemy, pain, she fell back with a low exclamation, wrung from her by pain so extreme that she was quite un- prepared. Sudden anger stirred within her, because she had so plainly betrayed her feelings to one who had been described to her as full of sympathy and almost incredibly competent to notice the peculiari- WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE aREEN ties of men and things. If this woman should dare to pity her, in words or with looks ! "Good morning. Mrs. Maybrook, I am sure. I am Miss Lyndsay," said Miss Anne, in her most tran- quil voice, and it was capable of many tones. Said Dorothy to herself, " That woman is n't long for this world." What she said aloud was : " Yes, I 'm Dorothy Maybrook. I brought over some wild strawberries for Mrs. Lyndsay. They 're very early, but there 's a sort of little nest right back of our clearing, and the sun gets in there con- stant,— seems as if it could n't ever get out,— and it hatches the berries two weeks before they 're done blooming anywhere else." " Thank you," said Anne, who was making a diffi- cult effort to catch with the foot outside of the ham- mock a slipper lost in the foiled attempt to rise. Mrs. Maybrook set down the berries, and without a word went on her knees, took the dainty slipper, lifted the foot, bestowed a glance of swift curiosity upon it as she put on the slipper, and gently replaced the foot in the hammock. "Sakes alive ! If I was a man, I 'd just say it 's beautiful. Being a woman, I 'd like to know how you walk on them?" " Oh, I don't very much ; not nowadays," returned Anne, smiling. " Thank you." It was a neat little shot, although quite unconscious of aim. Miss Anne tried to think she disliked both the help and the outspoken admiration. 8he made a feeble eflPort to generalize the compliment, and so to get away from its personal application : 72 WHEN ALL THE WOODH AKE GREEN h ' " It 's a family failiiiu", Mrs. Maybrook. Even our iiieii have absurdly small liiiiids and feet. I should have offered you a camp-ehair. Get one, please, out of the house. I am ipiite ineapable of helping' any one, — even myself." Mrs. Maybrook did as Anne desired, and sat down. "Mj' sister-in-law was g'oing to see you to-day. Shall I eall lierf She muoL be in her room." " Oh, there 's time enough. That 's the only thing we have a plenty of up here. We ain't time-starved, I can tell you." Anne began to be interested. Quaint- ness of phrase was a thing so rare. For a few minutes she had been struggling with one of her few weaknesses. At last slu! gave way : " Excuse me, but would you be ^:o kind as to put the basket of strawberries in the house ? The sun will spoil them." " Oh, but the sun is good for them. They won't take any hurt." " But I shall. The fact is, when I was a girl I was picking strawberries in the White Hills, and a snake — oh, a rattlesnake — struck at me. I have been ever since unal)le to endure the odor of strawberries. I think it becomes worse as I grow more feeble. It is ver}' absurd." She was absolutely pleading her weakness to this simple woman, and had ceased for the time to be self-critical. Mrs. Maybrook rose, and without more words, after carrying the basket to the cook's house, returned around the cabin to her seat facing Miss Anne. The smile she wore as she came back would usually have been taken by Anne for vulgar comment on her own WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN 73 display of what might, wiih reason, have been taken for i)aro affectation. Now it struck Anne .is being like her own liabit of smiling largo, or smiling small, as she said, nt some humorous aspect of the passing hour. '' What amuses you f " she (queried pleasantly. " Oh, I was just a-thinking you might feel about those berries like Mrs. Eve might of felt when she was eomiiig on in years and one of her grandchildren fetched her a nice, red a])i)le. Giiess he got warmed for it. Sandals might have come handy in big families, those days ! " Anne looked up, laughing gaily, and noting by the exception how rarely Mrs. May brook failed in her grammar. '' Delightful ! Now I feel historically justified. Are there any snakes here ? •' " Oh, no ; none to Imrt. But, bless me, I never can hear about snakes without thinking of Sairy Kitchins." "And what was that?" said Miss Lyndsay, enjoy- ing talk with a mind as fresh and unconventional as her guest's. '* Oh, it ain't much. You see, I 've had asthma so bad that Hii-am and me, since the children are gone, we have traveled here and there, trying to find a place Avhere I would n't have it." " Have vou suffered much ? " said Anne. "Yes, — (j[uite my share. But there are worse things." " That is so." " Hiram and me get along most anywhere, yfe Imvo a bit of money, — not overmuch. We are both pretty handy, and once we tried it two years doi/]if 74 WHEN ALL THE WOODS ARE GREEN :!fi South, at Marysville, iu Alabanio. That was a right nice place for snakes." " Gracious Heaveus ! You talk as if you liked theui." " Well, they 're handsome, and brave, and don't want to hurt you ; and how many men can you say that about ? " " A fair defense," said Anne ; '' but what of Sairy Kitchins f I love a story ; I am like a child." ''Well, I'^airy she had just come that spring. She was the wife of one of them Methodist preachers that don't be let to bide long anywhere, — the kind that goes about the land seeking whom they may devour. As I came along tlie road with her there was a six- foot rattler lying right across in the sun. Down went Sairy on her knees. ' Good lands ! ' said I, ' what 's the good prayin' to that reptile? A whole camp- meeting could n't convert him.' Well, we could n't get by liim, and so I got a good, big stick of live oak, and fetclied him a crack 0:1 the head, and one or two more to make sure. Then I said, ' Come along, Sairy ; he won't sin any more; if that fool of a woman, Eve, had had any sense, and a live-oak stick handy, there would n't have been no need of you and me going to meeting this hot dav.'" " I should think not," cried Anne, laughing. " And what did Sairy say? I am quite on her side." " Oh, she told her husband, and I got prayed over a heap. It 's amazing how clear those preachers see the sins of otlier people." " I think it a delightful story. I shall tell the boys to-night. I have n't laughed as much in a month." WHEN AI.L THE WOOD;:} ARE GREEN 75 " Dear me ! tt must be ten o'clock," suK\ Ml-s. Atay- brook, looking up at the sun, *' and I must .see Mrs. Lyndsay, and go home to cook Tlirain's dinner. But I would like to see the house. You know last year they tented. When I was here yesterday no one was about, and so I did not go in to look. I was dying to see it." Anne smiled. '' Help me a little." The hand she met with hers was strong, well-mod- eled, and — if tanned by sun, and showing signs of toil in th(! broken nails — was, like the gown, scrupu- lously clean. Dorothy wore no head-cover, and her hair, which was fine and abundant, lay in fiat, old- fashioned style on her temples, and was caught back in an ample and perfectly neat coil. Agaiii, as Anne rose, the look of repose on Dorothy's face, and also the absence of lines of care, struck her no less than the regularity of features. There was none of the slouch of labor ; Dorothy sat erect, without t(niching the back of the chair ; a woman of fifty or over, and still keeping many of the gracious curves of feminine maturitv. But what interested Anne most in Mrs. Maybrook as they moved about the room — which was hall, dining-room, and sitt'ng-room — was her simple plea- sure in tlie white curtains Mrs. Lyndsay had tied up with gay ribbons, the cane seats, and the covers of light Eastern stuffs, not very remarkable or costly, but, as it seemed, pleasing to the visitor. Anne thought she would have noticed the books, but of these she made no mention, albeit the collection was odd enough, because every one had brought what 7(5 VVIIKN ALL THE WOODS AUK (SKKKN i-ir Mi(\v liked, {iiul tluv ch^vcrly built 'oook-slirlvcs I'ioiTO liiid iiiiidc were rull lo ovcrllo'.v. N'c'i'v soon Mrs, Lyndsjiy appciU'cd, j^'iivo tJio visitor ;i more lliaii iisiiiilly Wiirui vvclconu', iii»d lit hist uskcd about tho Colkc'Us and Ihc ciiild. '• It died last ni^ylit," said Mrs. Maybrook. '' [ was uj) llu'i'o pretty cai-ly to-day. Tlit>y 're au't'nl liard I'olks to help any; it 's like scttinji^ up ten-j)ins, and down tlu'v <>(), in a minute. Ilii-am says tliey have n't any ' uilalonfi'ativeness.' Thai 's a ^'reat word with Ilirnin."' " Do lliey want help .' What is there we can do?" said ^Irs. Lyndsay. " I would n't know to tell you. Oh, dear, if I was that man, T 'd drink, too." *'No! No!" "Yes, 1 'd driid< ! Ibi did, some, yesterday; l)ut I judge he 's taken none sineo Mr. Lyndsay was there. The I'aet is, Mrs. Lvndsav, Susan (\)lkett eariHl more for t1ios(> children of hers than for her tirst man or Colkett, or anybody else, except herself. She 's just savau'C now, like a bear that has had its <'ubs taken away. And the worst of it is, she has n't i^ot tlie means of wisdom in her, and n«»ver had, or else she 'd Iiave seen you can't live in a pii;'sty aiul bi'inc: lip livo children. Oh ! You were asking if they want anythinj^'?" ^'\\>s, Dorothy." "Well, ^\v. Carinc^ton lie went over yesterday afternoon. T <>'uess he took the short cut or he would have met Mr. Lyndsay cominu' out. Mr. Carinji,'ton must be a pretty nice man. There 's not many as 1^ II WFfKN AlJi TIIK WOODS Al;K (IIJKKN 77 y<)uii,n- would j^ivo up S!itiii"