Part 28 (1/2)

The man placed his hand on the boy's head in a helpless fas.h.i.+on.

”Are ye sick?” whispered Tim.

”It's nothing,” he faltered weakly. ”I--I was just feeling weak.

Come, it's time you were in bed. It is too stormy for you to go home.”

And that night John McIntyre slept with a protecting arm placed around the son of the man who had ruined his life.

CHAPTER XIV

THE HERALD OF SPRING

Pale season, watcher in unvexed suspense, Still priestess of the patient middle day, Betwixt wild March's humored petulance And the warm wooing of green-kilted May.

--ARCHIBALD LAMPMAN.

All day the rain had poured, a real March rain, descending in chill, driving torrents. Now and then bursts of wavering sunlight broke through the storm, but the next moment the patch of blue sky was shut out by rolling gray clouds, and followed by another downpour.

In one of the brief sunlit intervals, Miss Arabella threw a shawl over her head and ran down to Long's store for a pound of tea. She was still pale and wan, as she had always been since her illness last fall; but there was a light in her eyes and an expression of quiet determination about her mouth, telling that the little lilac lady's spirit was still on guard over her secret.

It was the hour when Silas Long and his son were having their early supper, and Ella Anne kept shop. As the sharp ring of the little bell announced a customer, she came from behind the pigeon-holed part.i.tion that served as a post-office. ”Oh, I say, Arabella!” she cried, turning back at the sight of the little wind-blown figure, ”mind you, there's a letter for you! Who'd ever 'a' thought o' you gettin' a letter?”

Miss Arabella's sensitive face flushed. ”I guess it's a boot advertis.e.m.e.nt again,” she ventured. ”I got one year before last.”

”No, it ain't.” Miss Long reappeared with the missive, examining it minutely. ”Them advertising things are open, and this one's sealed.

It's got writing on the inside, too, 'stead o' print; I can make that much out through the envelope, only I can't read a word of it. It's from a place called Nugget Hill. Who do you know there?”

Miss Arabella took the letter, her reticent soul shrinking from the frank inquisitiveness. ”I don't know anybody,” she said honestly. ”I never heard of the place.”

”Miss Weir was in here, a minit ago, an' I showed it to her, an' she said that was the name of a place in the Klond.y.k.e. Who on earth would be writing to you all the way from there?”

Miss Arabella suddenly crushed the letter into her pocket; her face turned white. ”I--I want a pound o' that green tea, Ella Anne, please,” she stammered hurriedly.

”Aren't you goin' to read it?” asked Miss Long, reaching for the tea-scoop.

”I ain't in any hurry,” faltered Miss Arabella, ”but I want the tea--quick!”

”Well, if you ain't a caution! Here, give it to me. I'll read it for you, if you like.”

”Oh, no, thanks, Ella Anne, I'd rather wait.” There was panic in the little woman's voice. ”I--I _always_ wait quite a _long_ while before I open my letters.”

”Well, my gracious!” grumbled Miss Long. As she measured out the tea, and bound it up, she kept an inquiring eye upon her customer, and could not help seeing that she was greatly agitated.

”Well, sakes! I could no more do that than fly. Why, mebby some one's left you a fortune.”

Miss Arabella made no reply. She hurriedly tucked the parcel under her shawl, and forgetting to pay for her purchase, made for the door.

”Likely Wes an' me'll be over to William's to-night for a sing, so you can run in an' tell us all about it then,” Miss Long called after her.

Miss Arabella paid no heed. Just now she cared not what the future might hold, she must get beyond all prying eyes immediately, and see what that letter contained. She ran along the sodden pathway, splas.h.i.+ng unheedingly through the mud and snow, and repeating to herself, over and over again, that he must be living, he must be, after all. Without waiting to take off her wet shawl, and all unheeding Polly's loud and profane complaint that times were dull, she fled to the safety of her spare bedroom. She pulled down the window-blind, till the place was all in darkness, dragged the chair against the door, sat upon it, and with shaking hand drew the letter from her pocket.