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Updated: May 29, 2025
Cummins invited our host to take a seat, with us in his carriage, and we drove across the country to Drax Hall. Drax Hall is the largest estate in the island consisting of eight hundred acres. The manager of this estate confirmed the testimony of the Barbadian planters in every important particular. From Drax Hall we returned to Bridgetown, accompanied by our friend Cummins.
"Maybe you think my life's been wasted, too?" "No, Mr. Palmer, you know I could never think that, after your kindness to Will and me." "Well, Will Cummins was more generous than I ever was," answered Palmer. "Main trouble with Will was his temper, which was no better than mine. Every bad man in these mountains knew that Will Cummins was ready to treat him to his own medicine."
Here again was that difference of viewpoint the eternity of difference between the middle and the end of the earth. Cummins was away for a month on a trap-line that went into the Barren Lands. At these times the woman fell as a heritage to those who remained, and they watched over her as a parent might guard its child. Yet the keenest eyes would not have perceived that this was so.
Six of them are the graves of children little ones who died deep in the wilderness and whose tiny bodies Meleese Cummins could not leave to the savage and pitiless loneliness of the forests, but whom she has brought together that they might have company in what she calls her, "Little Garden of God."
The word of God was in the one volume, and it needed no help from commentators to win its way and suffice the hungering and thirsting soul. "If you could lay hands upon the book of sermons written by Brother Peter Cummins, which his wife had printed, I'm thinking it would serve, next to God's own blessed word, to put you in the right way.
The White Farm. Afternoon. Meanwhile, Miss Avilda Cummins had left her window and gone into the next room for a skein of yarn. She answered the knock, however; and, opening the door, stood rooted to the threshold in speechless astonishment, very much as if she had seen the shades of her ancestors drawn up in line in the dooryard. Off went Timothy's hat.
In another instant he had turned, and, before Cummins' startled voice found words, had opened the door and run out into the night. The man saw him darting swiftly toward the forest, and called to him, but there was no response. There was a hot fire burning in Jan's brain, a blazing, writhing contortion of things that brought a low moaning from his lips.
It meant that up here, under the cold chill of the northern skies, things were as God meant them to be, and that a few of His creatures could live in a love that was neither possession nor sin. A year after Cummins brought his wife into the North, a man came to the post from Fort Churchill, on Hudson's Bay. He was an Englishman, belonging to the home office of the Hudson's Bay Company in London.
On the second day after the Frenchman's departure, Jan rose free of the fever which had threatened him for a time, and in the afternoon he harnessed Cummins' dogs. The last of the trappers had started from the post that morning, their sledges and dogs sinking heavily in the deepening slush; and Jan set off over the smooth toboggan trail made by the company's agent in his return to Fort Churchill.
Now, Miss Avilda Cummins was unmarried by every implication of her being, as Henry James would say: but Samantha Ann Ripley was a spinster purely by accident. She had seldom been exposed to the witcheries of children, or she would have known long before this that, so far as she was personally concerned, they would always prove irresistible.
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