Lucy Montgomery - The Blue Castle

"Don't blame him," she said hurriedly. "It - it wasn't his fault. It - was all my doing."

"You didn't ask him to marry you, I suppose," twinkled Dr. Redfern. "He might have let me know. I'd have got acquainted with my daughter-in-law before this if he had. But I'm glad to meet you now, my dear - very glad. You look like a sensible young woman. I used to sorter fear Barney'd pick out some pretty bit of fluff just because she was good-looking. They were all after him, of course. Wanted his money? Eh? Didn't like the pills and the bitters but liked the dollars. Eh? Wanted to dip their pretty little fingers in old Doc's millions. Eh?"

"Millions!" said Valancy faintly. She wished she could sit down somewhere - she wished she could have a chance to think - she wished she and the Blue Castle could sink to the bottom of Mistawis and vanish from human sight forevermore.

"Millions," said Dr. Redfern complacently. "And Bernie chucks them for - that." Again he shook the diamond contemptuously at the Blue Castle, "Wouldn't you think he'd have more sense? And all on account of a white bit of a girl. He must have got over THAT feeling, anyhow, since he's married. You must persuade him to come back to civilisation. All nonsense wasting his life like this. Ain't you going to take me over to your house, my dear? I suppose you've some way of getting there."

"Of course," said Valancy stupidly. She led the way down to the little cove where the disappearing propeller boat was snuggled.

"Does your - your man want to come, too?"

"Who? Henry. Not he. Look at him sitting there disapproving. Disapproves of the whole expedition. The trail up from the road nearly gave him a conniption. Well, it WAS a devilish road to put a car on. Whose old bus is that up there?"

"Barney's."

"Good Lord! Does Bernie Redfern ride in a thing like that? It looks like the great-great-grandmother of all the Fords."

"It isn't a Ford. It's a Grey Slosson," said Valancy spiritedly. For some occult reason, Dr. Redfern's good-humoured ridicule of dear old Lady Jane stung her to life. A life that was all pain but still LIFE. Better than the horrible half-dead-and-half-aliveness of the past few minutes - or years. She waved Dr. Redfern curtly into the boat and took him over to the Blue Castle. The key was still in the old pine - the house still silent and deserted. Valancy took the doctor through the living-room to the western verandah. She must at least be out where there was air. It was still sunny, but in the southwest a great thundercloud, with white crests and gorges of purple shadow, was slowly rising over Mistawis. The doctor dropped with a gasp on a rustic chair and mopped his brow again.

"Warm, eh? Lord, what a view! Wonder if it would soften Henry if he could see it."

"Have you had dinner?" asked Valancy.

"Yes, my dear - had it before we left Port Lawrence. Didn't know what sort of wild hermit's hollow we were coming to, you see. Hadn't any idea I was going to find a nice little daughter-in-law here all ready to toss me up a meal. Cats, eh? Puss, puss! See that. Cats love me. Bernie was always fond of cats! It's about the only thing he took from me. He's his poor mother's boy."

Valancy had been thinking idly that Barney must resemble his mother. She had remained standing by the steps, but Dr. Redfern waved her to the swing seat.

"Sit down, dear. Never stand when you can sit. I want to get a good look at Barney's wife. Well, well, I like your face. No beauty - you don't mind my saying that - you've sense enough to know it, I reckon. Sit down."

Valancy sat down. To be obliged to sit still when mental agony urges us to stride up and down is the refinement of torture. Every nerve in her being was crying out to be alone - to be hidden. But she had to sit and listen to Dr. Redfern, who didn't mind talking at all.

"When do you think Bernie will be back?"

"I don't know - not before night probably."

"Where did he go?"

"I don't know that either. Likely to the woods - up back."

"So he doesn't tell you his comings and goings, either? Bernie was always a secretive young devil. Never understood him. Just like his poor mother. But I thought a lot of him. It hurts me when he disappeared as he did. Eleven years ago. I haven't seen my boy for eleven years."

"Eleven years." Valancy was surprised. "It's only six since he came here."

"Oh, he was in the Klondike before that - and all over the world. He used to drop me a line now and then - never give any clue to where he was but just a line to say he was all right. I s'pose he's told you all about it."

"No. I know nothing of his past life," said Valancy with sudden eagerness. She wanted to know - she must know now. It hadn't mattered before. Now she must know all. And she could never hear it from Barney. She might never even see him again. If she did, it would not be to talk of his past.

"What happened? Why did he leave his home? Tell me. Tell me."

"Well, it ain't much of a story. Just a young fool gone mad because of a quarrel with his girl. Only Bernie was a stubborn fool. Always stubborn. You never could make that boy do anything he didn't want to do. From the day he was born. Yet he was always a quiet, gentle little chap, too. Good as gold. His poor mother died when he was only two years old. I'd just begun to make money with my Hair Vigor. I'd dreamed the formula for it, you see. Some dream that. The cash rolled in. Bernie had everything he wanted. I sent him to the best schools - private schools. I meant to make a gentleman of him. Never had any chance myself. Meant he should have every chance. He went through McGill. Got honours and all that. I wanted him to go in for law. He hankered after journalism and stuff like that. Wanted me to buy a paper for him - or back him in publishing what he called a 'real, worthwhile, honest-to- goodness Canadian Magazine.' I s'pose I'd have done it - I always did what he wanted me to do. Wasn't he all I had to live for? I wanted him to be happy. And he never was happy. Can you believe it? Not that he said so. But I'd always a feeling that he wasn't happy. Everything he wanted - all the money he could spend - his own bank account - travel - seeing the world - but he wasn't happy. Not till he fell in love with Ethel Traverse. Then he was happy for a little while."

The cloud had reached the sun and a great, chill, purple shadow came swiftly over Mistawis. It touched the Blue Castle - rolled over it. Valancy shivered.

"Yes," she said, with painful eagerness, though every word was cutting her to the heart. "What - was - she - like?"

"Prettiest girl in Montreal," said Dr. Redfern. "Oh, she was a looker, all right. Eh? Gold hair - shiny as silk - great, big, soft, black eyes - skin like milk and roses. Don't wonder Bernie fell for her. And brains as well. SHE wasn't a bit of fluff. B.A. from McGill. A thoroughbred, too. One of the best families. But a bit lean in the purse. Eh! Bernie was mad about her. Happiest young fool you ever saw. Then - the bust-up."

"What happened?" Valancy had taken off her hat and was absently thrusting a pin in and out of it. Good Luck was purring beside her. Banjo was regarding Dr. Redfern with suspicion. Nip and Tuck were lazily cawing in the pines. Mistawis was beckoning. Everything was the same. Nothing was the same. It was a hundred years since yesterday. Yesterday, at this time, she and Barney had been eating a belated dinner here with laughter. Laughter? Valancy felt that she had done with laughter forever. And with tears, for that matter. She had no further use for either of them.

"Blest if I know, my dear. Some fool quarrel, I suppose. Bernie just lit out - disappeared. He wrote me from the Yukon. Said his engagement was broken and he wasn't coming back. And not to try to hunt him up because he was never coming back. I didn't. What was the use? I knew Bernie. I went on piling up money because there wasn't anything else to do. But I was mighty lonely. All I lived for was them little notes now and then from Bernie - Klondike - England - South Africa - China - everywhere. I thought maybe he'd come back some day to his lonesome old dad. Then six years ago even the letters stopped. I didn't hear a word of or from him till last Christmas."