There were sconces on each side of the chimney-piece, but of gilt bronze. Each was seven-branched, and it was evident that Marie had just lighted all fourteen candles.
Mrs. Macleod drew her chair to the hearth, and I took one near her.
III
"It is a good time to speak of some matters between ourselves; Jamie will not be coming in for an hour at least." She turned and looked at me steadily.
"I don't know how much or how little you know of this place, and perhaps it will be best to begin at the beginning. Mrs. Beaseley wrote me you were born in the city of New York."
"Yes; twenty-six years ago next December."
"So Mrs. Beaseley wrote, or rather her daughter did for her. She said you were an orphan."
"Yes." I answered so. How could I answer otherwise knowing what I did? But I felt the blood mount to my temples when I stated this half truth.
"You say you do not know Doctor Rugvie?"
"No; only of him."
"I wish you did." (How could she know that my wish to see him and know him must be far stronger than hers!)
"He will be coming out here later on in the winter—are you cold?" she asked quickly, for I had shivered to cover an involuntary start.
"No, not at all; but I think it must be growing colder outside."
"It is. Cale said we might have heavy frost or snow before morning. You will find the changes in temperature very sudden and trying here in spring and autumn. About Doctor Rugvie; he is a good man, and a great one in his profession. We made his acquaintance many years ago in Scotland, in my own home, Crieff. He had lodgings with us for ten weeks, and since then he has made us proud to be counted among his friends."
She rose, stirred the fire and took a maple stick from a large wood-basket.
"Let me," I said, taking it from her.
"You really don't look strong enough."
"Oh, but I am; you 'll see."
"By the way, don't let my son do anything like this. He is often careless and over confident, and he must not strain himself—he is under strict orders." She was silent for a moment then went on:
"My son is not strong, as you must see." She looked at me appealingly, as if hoping I might dispute her statement; but I could say nothing.
"A year ago," she spoke slowly, as if with difficulty, "he was in the Edinboro' Hospital for five months; he inherits his father's constitution, and the hemorrhages were very severe. Doctor Rugvie came over to see him, and advised his coming out here to Canada to live as far as possible in the pine forests. He has been away all summer. He is to go away again next year with one of the old guides.
"I want you to remain with me as companion and assistant here in the house; the service is large and, as you will soon find," she added with a smile, "extremely personal. They are interested in us and our doings, and we are expected to reciprocate that interest. It will be a comfort to Jamie to know you are with me, and that I am not alone in this French environment." She interrupted herself to say:
"Did Mrs. Beaseley tell you anything about this place? You can speak with perfect freedom to me. We have no mysteries here." She smiled as if she read my thoughts.
"She told me she knew nothing of the place, except that Doctor Rugvie had hired a farm in Canada with some good buildings on it, and that he intended to use it for those who might need to be built up in health."
"She has stated it exactly. My son and I are the first beneficiaries—only, this is not the farm."
"Not the farm!" I exclaimed. She looked amused at my surprise. "What is it then? Do tell me."
"There is very little to tell. A friend of Doctor Rugvie's, an Englishman who was with him for a week in Scotland while he was with us, is owner of the Seigniory of Lamoral; it is his, I think, by inheritance, although I am not positive; and this is the old manor house. The estate is very large, but has been neglected; I have understood it is to be cultivated; some of it is to be reforested and the present forest conserved. He will be his own manager and will make his home here a great part of the year. Mean while, he has installed us here in his absence, through Doctor Rugvie, of course, and given over the charge of house and servants to Jamie and me."
"And what is the owner's title?"
"He has none that I know of. The real 'Seignior' and 'Seignioress' live in Richelieu-en-Bas in the new manor house—I say 'new', but that must be seventy-five years old. This is only a part of the original seigniory."
"I don't understand these seigniories, and I tried to read up about them before I came here."
"It is very perplexing—these seigniorial rights and rents and transferences. I don't make any pretence of understanding them."
"Are the farm buildings occupied now?"
"No; Doctor Rugvie wants to attend to those himself. It is his recreation to make plans for this farm, and he will be here himself to see that they are begun and carried out right. He tells me he has always loved Canada."
"And what am I to do for you? I want to begin to feel of a little use," I said half impatiently.
"You are doing for me now, my dear." (How easily Delia Beaseley's name for me came from the "elderly Scotchwoman's" lips!) "Your presence cheers Jamie; the young need the young, and belong to the young—"
"But," I protested, "I am not young; I am twenty-six."
"And Jamie is twenty-three. But when you laughed together to-night, you both might have been sixteen. It did me good to hear you; this old house needs just that—and I can't laugh easily now," she added. I heard a note of hopelessness in her voice.
How lovely she was as she sat by the fire in the soft radiance of candle light! "Elderly"!—She could not be a day over fifty-seven or eight. The fine white cap rested on heavy, smoothly parted hair; the figure was round to plumpness; the dress, not modernized, became her; her voice was still young if a little weary, and her brown eyes bright, the lids unwrinkled.
"Do you know Delia Beaseley well? Doctor Rugvie says she is a fine woman."
"She is noble," I said emphatically; "I feel that I know her well, although I have seen her only a few times."
"Is she a widow?"
The door opened before I could gather my wits to answer. I felt intuitively that I could not say to this Scotchwoman, that Delia Beaseley was neither widow nor wife. I welcomed the sudden inrush of all four dogs and Jamie behind them, with the smell of a fresh pipe about him.
"I positively must have my second short pipe here with you. I kept away in deference to the new member of the family." He flourished his pipe towards me. "I always smoke here, don't I, mother?"
"In that case, I will stay in my room after supper unless you continue to smoke your first, second, and third—"
"Only two; Doctor Rugvie won't allow me a third—"
"Doctor Rugvie is a tyrant, and I 've said the same thing before," I declared firmly.
"Now, look here, Marcia," he said solemnly, "we will call a halt right now and here." He settled his long length in the deep easy chair on the other side of the hearth, refilled and relighted his pipe. "Doctor Rugvie is my friend, my very special friend; whoever enters this house, enters it on the footing of friendship with all those who are my friends—"
"Hear,