A happy woman
The boat was swaying up and down, the gentle lap of the water against
its sides seemed to invite to her to venture. In another moment, she
had lightly jumped in, unmoored it, and taking the oars, began to row
out with long easy strokes.
She was absolutely happy, and gave herself up to the enjoyment of
her surroundings. Exercise kept her warm, and the hills with their
wonderful lights and shadows reaching down to the water's edge
fascinated her. Time slipped away, and then suddenly she was aware of a
hoarse shout in the distance.
She pulled round and saw two men calling to her from the shore. For a
moment she felt guilty, and imagined that she had no right to be in the
boat. Then she looked up and saw a thick roll of black cloud coming
towards her from over the hills. At the same moment, a sudden wind bore
down upon the lake, and in a few minutes more the waves were tossing
her up and down in sudden fury.
She set her teeth, and turned back in the direction of the shore. She
had heard of these sudden squalls that swept across inland lakes, and
knew she would need all her wits and strength to return in safety.
Happily the wind was driving her in the direction she wished to go, but
occasionally it would veer round, and to her excited imagination seemed
like some demon determined to upset her. The boat tossed up and down as
if it were on an angry sea. Waves began to wash over the boat and into
it, and at last one broke over her.
Drenched to the skin, she shipped her oars, then felt under the seat,
and to her relief found a big can, with which she instantly began to
bale out the water. When she could, she took up her oars again. Twice
she thought she was going to be upset. Still, she laboured at her
rowing. The shore seemed to recede instead of becoming nearer. Her
hands were blistered, her breath came in great gasps. Gradually her
strength began to fail her. But Sara's will was strong, and she would
not give in to being beaten.
She saw the men watching her anxiously; one had a rope ready to fling,
and that gave her fresh courage. As she slowly approached them, she
heard a whizz and a hiss through the air, and a small coil of rope fell
neatly into the boat. She saw that one man had got hold of the other
end. Without any hesitation she made her end of it fast to the painter.
A sense of security came to her, but she did not slacken in her rowing,
and though the waves were now dashing into the boat, she did not stop
to bale out the water.
And at last, she came to shore driving her boat with a dash against the
rough stone pier. The next moment she was being helped out of it by
Graham Laird, and she sank exhausted to the ground. Another man was by
Graham's side, and it was he who spoke first—
"Now, don't have hysterics! Don't spoil your courage! I couldn't have
fought through better myself, and Graham and I are accustomed to
squalls!"
Sara looked up a little indignantly—
"I am only breathless. You must have mercy!"
Graham said nothing, he was occupied in fastening the boat to its
moorings. When his task was done, Sara was able to get upon her feet.
He looked at her.
"The quicker you get home the better, for you are drenched. It's a
mercy we caught sight of you before you had gone too far out! If you
had asked me, I would have warned you against trusting the weather
to-day. I had better introduce my friend, Colonel Fleming, to you."
Sara looked at Colonel Fleming with a little laugh.
He was a square, sturdily built man, with fair hair and blonde
moustache, his face was tanned with an outdoor life, and when Sara
laughed, his eyes twinkled.
"Have you been accustomed to hysterical women?" she asked. "I am not
one of them. I'm afraid I took out the boat on the impulse of the
moment. I did not know or care who owned it. These wilds make one do
and dare anything!"
She turned and made her way up the little lane which led to the house.
The men accompanied her, but as they reached the hall door, Graham
turned into the yard to see to something.
"I am coming in for some tea," said Colonel Fleming; "I hope you are
going to give it to us. Graham Laird and I are very old chums. I moved
up here to be near him. I'm farming my own land—about three miles off,
that's all. You haven't been here long?"
"No," said Sara with reserve, feeling that Colonel Fleming was oddly
communicative. "You will excuse me, I must change my wet things."
"Of course, of course. Hope you won't take cold. I'm quite at home.
Don't mind me."
Sara vanished upstairs. She was feeling shivery and shaken by her
experience. But when she had got into dry clothes, she felt better, and
went into Mrs. Laird's room before going down to tea. She told her of
her misadventures, for she always tried to give the invalid all details
of her walks abroad.
When Mrs. Laird heard that Colonel Fleming was downstairs, she said—
"That man is too ridiculous in his adoration for Graham. He worries him
to death by always hanging round."
"I thought they were friends."
"So they are, or were, but you can have too much of a good thing."
"Hasn't he a wife?"
"He had, but he had to divorce her. I am thankful we have no wives in
the neighborhood. I never have a visitor; and if one did come, I should
not see them. Go downstairs and give those men their tea, and then come
up to me again."
So Sara went down in her russet-brown serge gown. Her pink colour and
bright eyes made her look unusually fresh and girlish.
"You are evidently none the worse for your wetting," said Colonel
Fleming. "Do you know that several rash boatmen have been drowned in a
squall like the one we had this afternoon?"
"I will profit by my experience," said Sara, sedately, "and not venture
boating again until the weather is settled."
"Tell me when you want to use the boat," said Graham; "and then I shall
be able to tell you whether it is safe to venture. Storms sweep down
very suddenly from our hills."
"Yes, I was ignorant and foolhardy," acknowledged Sara, "but how
delicious it was down there before the storm came on! You seem framed
in a little world all to yourself, I loved it!"
"How strange is the variety of human nature!" said Colonel Fleming. "I
should be bored to death unless I were fishing. To row aimlessly about
in a boat would be dull work to me. No object in it!"
"You are a sportsman, I suppose?"
"I suppose I am, though I pride myself on being a working man now,
don't I, Graham?"
They talked away; Graham Laird showing himself in quite a different
light as he and his friend discussed things together. He was brighter
and keener than Sara had ever seen him before. Then a message came to
him from his mother through Izzie saying that she wanted to see him at
once. He left his tea unfinished, as he promptly obeyed the summons.
Colonel Fleming gave his head a comical little shake as he looked
across at Sara.
"A man of one idea, he is. It's just his mother. Awfully good son,
isn't he?"
"Yes," assented Sara.
"So glad you're a cheerful soul. He wants cheering in this hole!
Personally I believe in cheerfulness—it's essential to body and soul.
I'm a bit of a philosopher in my way. I've knocked about in different
parts of the world, and gone under the hammer as I call it, and
I've learnt this much, that one is bound to be hammered sooner or
later—beaten gold, you know! And bad though the time may be, it passes.
It is bound to pass. The trick is to extract as much enjoyment as you
can. Get the honey out of the dead carcase, like that chap in the
Bible—Samson, wasn't his name? That's what I tell Graham.
"He's been under the hammer, Miss Darlington, for fifteen years, some
of the best years of his life, and his mother, poor soul, is likely to
give him a good many more years of it still. But he's got to clench
his teeth and be cheerful. I keep him at it! We did some game shooting
when we were out in India together. Did you know he was in the woods
and forests there? A good appointment, but he chucked it and came home
directly his mother was in trouble. And having been boss over a pretty
big district, things go hard with him now when he has to knuckle under
to one of these petty chiefs as I call them. Not that Malcolm Ferris is
a bad chap, but he has rather a swelled head, and imagines his agent a
bailiff."
He paused for breath. Sara looked thoughtful. Then he went on—
"So cheer up the old lady, Miss Darlington, and you will cheer him up.
It's his dark time, but it will pass—as I say—it will pass."
"Yes," said Sara, with shining eyes, "and if we remember Who wields the
hammer as you call it, we ought to do more than simply endure it!"
"Quite so—my old mother—bless her soul—taught me these things when I
was a boy, soaked me in them—and they've all come back. I've lived to
see them come true. Get him to church, Miss Darlington. It's only three
miles off, quite a nice walk. And the parson's a friend of mine, lives
his religion out—you know what I mean?"
They heard Graham's approaching step. Colonel Fleming nodded at her.
"Thought you were a good woman. Do your job thoroughly, and you'll have
the thanks of two people for it!"
Sara wondered what he meant. Her heart warmed to this short sturdy
little man. She felt glad she knew him. Though he was plain in
features, there was something extremely attractive in his happy eyes
and cheerful voice.
And when she went up to Mrs. Laird's room, she carried with her
an extra amount of cheeriness. She was stimulated afresh to bring
happiness to this lonely woman. But she very naturally wished to know
what was the nature of her trouble, and how it had taken such complete
and masterful possession of her spirit.
CHAPTER IV
SPRINGTIME
THE first Sunday had been so wet that there was no question of church.
The next week Sara asked at breakfast how far the church was.
"I should like to go, if I may. It doesn't seem Sunday to me without
church."
"To tell you the truth, I never like the horse out on Sunday. I give
him one day's rest a week, poor brute! I work him pretty hard the
remaining six."
"But I'm a good walker, and should enjoy it."
"You would lose your way, unless you went round by the road, and that
would be a good five miles. It's barely three across the hills."
"I suppose you wouldn't be able to come too, to show me the way?"
In another woman this might have been coquetry. But Sara was so frank
and straightforward in everything she said and did that Graham knew she
simply meant what she said.
"I might possibly," he said, "but I generally sit with my mother on
Sunday morning."
"Then never mind. Give me a few directions, and I will find my way. But
I should like to go."
An hour later Sara, wrapped in her thick tweed coat and skirt and furs,
was ready to start. Graham joined her in the hall. She saw he had
changed into a navy blue suit.
He gave a short little laugh as he met her eyes.
"I haven't done this for many a year, but my mother has spared me, and
I'll sit with her this afternoon instead. Now then, we shall have to
step out."
They skirted the grounds, then turned their back to the lake, and
before very long were treading a rough sheep-track over the hills. The
air was fresh and bracing, and the sun was shining.
Sara's firm easy tread showed that she was, as she said, a good walker.
"I have been walking-tours with my brother. I love it."
"How did you know we had a church near us?"
"Colonel Fleming mentioned it."
"I guessed as much."
There was amusement in his tone.
"Fleming is a queer fellow. He's the last man in the world whom I
should have counted on making a good farmer, but he's quite enamoured
with his farm, and isn't doing badly."
"I should think he has a happy nature," said Sara, slowly.