Ranald caught the tremor in her voice and looked at her. "Yes," he said, with an effort. "He was good to me in the camp. Many's the time he made it easy for me. He was next to Macdonald Bhain with the ax, and, man, he was the grand fighter--that is," he added, adopting the phrase of the Macdonald gang, "when it was a plain necessity." Then, forgetting himself, he began to tell Maimie how Big Mack had borne himself in the great fight a few weeks before.
But he had hardly well begun when suddenly he stopped with a groan.
"But now he is dead--he is dead. I will never see him no more."He was realizing for the first time his loss. Maimie came nearer him, and laying her hand timidly on his arm, said, "I am sorry, Ranald"; and Ranald turned once more and looked at her, as if surprised that she should show such feeling.
"Yes," he said, "I believe you are sorry."
Her big blue eyes filled suddenly with tears.
"Do you wonder that I am sorry? Do you think I have no heart at all?" she burst forth, impetuously.
"Indeed, I don't know," said Ranald. "Why should you care? You do not know him.""But haven't you just told me how splendid he was, and how good he was to you, and how much you thought of him, and--" Maimie checked her rush of words with a sudden blush, and then hurried on to say, "Besides, think of his mother, and all of them."While Maimie was speaking, Ranald had been scanning her face as if trying to make up his mind about her.
"I am glad you are sorry," he said, slowly, gazing with so searching a look into her eyes that she let them fall.
At this moment Mrs. Murray entered ready for her ride.
"Is the pony come?" she asked.
"Indeed, it is the slouch I am," said Ranald, and he hurried off to the stable, returning in a very short time with the pony saddled.
"You would not care to go with your uncle, Maimie?" said Mrs.
Murray, as Lambert drove up Black in the buggy.
"No, auntie, I think not," said Maimie. "I will take care of Hughie and the baby.""Good by, then, my dear," said Mrs. Murray, kissing her.
"Good by, Ranald," said Maimie, as he turned away to get his colt.
"Good by," he said, awkwardly. He felt like lifting his cap, but hesitated to do anything so extremely unnatural. With the boys in that country such an act of courtesy was regarded as a sign of "pride," if not of weakness.
Their way lay along the concession line for a mile, and then through the woods by the bridle-path to Peter McGregor's clearing.
The green grass ran everywhere--along the roadside, round the great stump roots, over the rough pasture-fields, softening and smoothing wherever it went. The woods were flushing purple, with just a tinge of green from the bursting buds. The balsams and spruces still stood dark in the swamps, but the tamaracks were shyly decking themselves in their exquisite robes of spring, and through all the bush the air was filled with soft sounds and scents. In earth and air, in field and forest, life, the new spring life, ran riot. How strangely impertinent death appeared, and how unlovely in such a world of life!
As they left the concession road and were about to strike into the woods, Mrs. Murray checked her pony, and looking upon the loveliness about her, said, softly, "How beautiful it all is!"There was no response from Ranald, and Mrs. Murray, glancing at his gloomy face, knew that his heart was sore at the thought of the pain they were bearing with them. She hesitated a few moments, and then said, gently: "And I saw a new heaven and a new earth. And there shall be no more death."But still Ranald made no reply, and they rode on through the bush in silence till they came to the clearing beyond. As they entered the brule, Ranald checked his colt, and holding up his hand, said, "Listen!"Through the quiet evening air, sweet and clear as a silver bell, came the long, musical note of the call that brings the cows home for the milking. It was Bella's voice: "Ko--boss, ko--boss, ko--boss!"Far across the brule they could see her standing on a big pine stump near the bars, calling to her cows that were slowly ****** toward her through the fallen timber, pausing here and there to crop an especially rich mouthful, and now and then responding to her call with soft lowings. Gently Bella chid them. "Come, Blossom, come away now; you are very lazy. Come, Lily; what are you waiting for? You slow old poke!" Then again the long, musical note: "Ko--boss, ko--boss, ko--boss!"Ranald groaned aloud, "Och-hone! It will be her last glad hour,"he said; "it is a hard, hard thing."
"Poor child, poor child!" said Mrs. Murray; "the Lord help her. It will be a cruel blow.""That it is, a cruel blow," said Ranald, bitterly; so bitterly that Mrs. Murray glanced at him in surprise and saw his face set in angry pain.
"The Lord knows best, Ranald," she said, gravely, "and loves best, too.""It will break her heart, whatever," answered Ranald, shortly.
"He healeth the broken in heart," said Mrs. Murray, softly. Ranald made no reply, but let the colt take her way through the brule toward the lane into which Bella had now got her cows. How happy the girl was! Joy filled every tone of her voice. And why not?
It was the springtime, the time of life and love. Long winter was gone, and soon her brothers would be back from the shanties. "And Mack, too," she whispered to her happy heart.
"And are ye sure the news is true?
And are ye sure he's weel?
Is this a time to think o' wark?
Ye jades, fling by your wheel.
"For there's nae luck aboot the hoose, There's nae luck ava, There's little pleesure in the hoose When oor gude man's awa."So she sang, not too loud; for the boys were at the barn and she would never hear the end of it.
"Well, Bella, you are getting your cows home. How are you, my dear?"Bella turned with a scarlet face to meet the minister's wife, and her blushes only became deeper when she saw Ranald, for she felt quite certain that Ranald would understand the meaning of her song.
"I will go on with the cows," said Ranald, in a hoarse voice, and Mrs. Murray, alighting, gave him her pony to lead.
