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Later, she composed the following, which she gave to Gabrielle: "Dear Eugene If you love me, come and get me. I have told mama that if she did not keep her word to return with me to New York by the fifteenth, I would write to you and she is still obstinate. I am at the Cathcart Lodge, While-a-Way, eighteen miles north of Three Rivers, here in Canada. Anyone can show you.
Jacques, four miles from While-a-Way, where the driver told him he could get a horse, if he wanted one. The owner of this hack line had a stable there. This was gratifying to him, and he decided to make arrangements for two horses at St. Jacques, which he would take to within a reasonable distance of the lodge and tie in some spot where they would not be seen.
When they reached While-a-Way, the caretaker, Pierre, an old habitant of musty log-hut origin, who spoke broken English and was dressed in earth-brown khaki over Heaven knows what combination of clothes beneath, had lighted the fires and was bestirring himself about warming the house generally with the furnaces.
I can't tell, but that is a long way off, and meanwhile, there is only this, and I don't know what else your mother may do to my reputation. She appears to be in a very savage frame of mind. You heard what she said at While-a-Way. She has evidently gone back on that completely. "Flower Face, I lay this all before you so that you may see how things are.
If she could only keep her there two weeks quietly, perhaps that would help. Suzanne could think here under different conditions. New York was so exciting. Out at this lodge all would be still. There was more argument, and, finally, Suzanne agreed to enter the hack, and they drove over toward Mont Cecile and the Cathcarts' Lodge, now vacant and lonely, which was known as "While-a-Way."
It is true that at times, after a long continued period of dry weather, the roads were passable for automobiles, at least as far as While-a-Way, but the weather had not recently been entirely dry. There had been a short period of cold rain and the roads were practically impassable, save for horses and carryalls. There was a carryall which went as far as St.
Word had been telephoned by her faithful representative, the station agent at Three Rivers, that a man of Eugene's description had arrived and departed for While-a-Way. Before this a telegram had come from New York from Kinroy to the effect that Eugene had gone somewhere. His daily habits since Mrs. Dale had gone away had been under observation.
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