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Updated: August 29, 2024
But as she moved along the river-bank among the trees, she met the little niece of the priest, who lived in his house, singing as though she was born but to sing, a song which Finden had written and Father Bourassa had set to music. Did not the distant West know Father Bourassa's gift, and did not Protestants attend Mass to hear him play the organ afterwards?
When all was told, he turned his horse toward the wide waste of the prairie, and galloped away. Finden watched him till he was lost to view beyond the bluff. "Now, a man like that, you can't guess what he'll do," he said, reflectively. "He's a high-stepper, and there's no telling what foolishness will get hold of him. It'd be safer if he got lost on the prairie for twenty-four hours.
What a place to live in, this London, in winter! It would be a little better down at Finden. 'A good deal better, I should think. If the weather were bad, it would be bad in a natural way; but this is artificial misery. 'I don't let it affect me much, said Milvain. 'Just of late I have been in remarkably good spirits. I'm doing a lot of work. No end of work more than I've ever done.
Among the most beautiful of these are Cupid and Psyche, painted by J. Wood, and engraved by Finden; Campbell Castle, by E. Goodall, after G. Arnald; the Parting, from Haydon's picture now exhibiting with his Mock Election, "Chairing;" Hours of Innocence, from Landseer; La Frescura, by Le Petit, from a painting by Bone; and the Cove of Muscat, a spirited engraving by Jeavons, from the painting of Witherington.
As Finden had said, "She was for ever acting, and never doin' any harm by it." Certainly she was doing no harm by it now; nevertheless, it was acting. Could it be otherwise, with what was behind her life a husband who had ruined her youth, had committed homicide, had escaped capture, but who had not subsequently died, as the world believed he had done, so circumstantial was the evidence.
"Der Blick des Forscher's fand Nicht selten mehr als er zu finden wuenschte." Here, better than anywhere, we may cite something which he wrote of himself to a friend of Klotz. Lessing, it will be remembered, had literally "suppressed" Klotz. "What do you apprehend, then, from me?
Varley was white. He had been leading his horse and talking to Finden. He mounted quickly now, and was about to ride away, but stopped short again. "Who knows who knows the truth?" he asked. "Father Bourassa and me no others," he answered. "I knew Meydon thirty years ago." There was a moment's hesitation, then Varley said, hoarsely, "Tell me tell me all."
Bedad, father, I rose betimes and did it, before anny man should say he set me the lead. Before the carpet in the parlour was down, and with the bare boards soundin' to my words, I offered her the name of Finden." "And so the first of the long line! Bien, it is an honour."
"'Tis the light heart she has, and slippin' in and out of things like a humming-bird, no easier to ketch, and no longer to stay," said Finden, the rich Irish landbroker, suggestively to Father Bourassa, the huge French-Canadian priest who had worked with her through all the dark weeks of the smallpox epidemic, and who knew what lay beneath the outer gaiety.
Marian had fallen back again, but she still followed at a very little distance. His walk was slow, and she might easily have passed him in quite a natural way; in that case he could not help seeing her. But there was an uneasy suspicion in her mind that he really must have noticed her in the Reading-room. This was the first time she had seen him since their parting at Finden.
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