Through canals, along shores where orchards flourished, past wild rapids and peaceful slopes, now by barge, now by stage-coach, the party leisurely made their pleasant way. The sky arched high and turquoise blue, the land smiled its promise. There seemed no limit to the possibilities of this country. From the stage-coach they alighted at taverns with painted floors and French cooking. On they journeyed till they came to taverns with unpainted floors and a flow of hard spirits. Philip, Adeline, Gussie, Nicholas, Matilda, his nurse, Patsy O’Flynn, Nero, the Newfoundland dog, Maggie, the little goat, Wilmott, who studied maps and deplored the way Philip scattered money about, all moved westward to their new home. Only Wilmott did not go as far as the Vaughans’ but remained in the nearest village to enquire about the possibility of buying a small place for himself.
VII. Vaughanlands
David Vaughan had acquired from the government, at a very moderate cost, several hundred acres of beautifully wooded fertile land. He had built a comfortable but unpretentious house with a wide verandah across the front, on which he and his family spent much of their time in the fine weather. He had now lived there for three years and he regarded them as his happiest years. He was one of those fortunate men who can look back on the greatest undertaking of their lives and say it was well done, who can look forward to the future secure in the thought that they are settled exactly where they want to be and that no further change is to be considered. He loved and admired his wife. He was proud of his son. It was his most cherished wish to draw congenial people to the corner of the province where he had settled, and, with their help, establish the customs and traditions of England, to be enjoyed and cherished by their descendants. To these he wished to add the breadth and freedom of the New Land. He believed the combination to be the ideal one for comfort, tolerance and content. He remembered Philip Whiteoak as a man who would fit admirably into this pattern of living. He had not met Philip’s wife but he had heard that she was distinguished-looking and animated in her conversation. To him it seemed worth a real effort to persuade such desirable people to settle beside him.
As the trouble of a prolonged visit from the Whiteoaks would fall on Mrs. Vaughan, she was less enthusiastic than he. She earnestly hoped they would not stay as long as he had suggested. However, she prepared two bedrooms, one for the nurse and two infants, the other for their parents-Philip had forgotten to mention Patsy O’Flynn, the Newfoundland dog and the goat-with a sense of cheerful anticipation. There was such an abundance of game and fish, almost at their own door, that the question of food was not too exacting. Later in the season, wild strawberries, raspberries and blackberries would provide fruit. There was no better bread or butter than was made in her own house. She defied anyone to make as good cheese as she herself could. No, it was not the meals that hung over her, it was the thought of outsiders always denying their privacy, and she felt hurt that her husband seemed not to mind that. As for her son, Robert, he was delighted. But what else could you expect of a boy of nineteen who sometimes found life a little too quiet in the country?
It was a lovely evening in the first week of June when Adeline and Philip first saw the scene where the rest of their lives would be spent. David Vaughan had sent a carriage and a pair of strong grey horses to meet the stage-coach. Also a light farm wagon for their luggage. The horses had spent the preceding night in the stable of an inn. They were fresh and well-groomed when they started out on the return journey. The Whiteoaks also had spent the night in the town and rose refreshed. But the unpaved road was rough. It was well for them that the floods of the spring were past, for at that time parts of the road had been washed away. Now it was rough but passable. The air was exquisite, the scenery charming. Between the trees they had glimpses of the lake which to them looked like a sea, sparkling at morning in endless bright ripples; still and of a hazy blue, in the afternoon; flaming beneath fiery clouds at sunset. Partridge and grouse were caring for their nestlings in the deep woods, small birds darted through the bright air. Above the thud of the horses’ hooves and the jingle of harness their song was heard.
The Vaughans came out to the verandah to greet them. David Vaughan and Philip had not met since Philip’s marriage. They shook hands warmly, then each presented the other to his wife, the ladies to each other. Mrs. Vaughan and Adeline looked with a good deal of curiosity into each other’s eyes. Mrs. Vaughan was determined to like Adeline but she had a misgiving when she looked into her eyes, even though Adeline’s smile was sweet with blandishment. "I don’t believe I shall like her", Alice Vaughan thought, "but what beautiful teeth and skin she has!"
Adeline saw a wife in Alice Vaughan, a woman whose thoughts never ranged beyond husband and children. She was handsome, in the early forties. Her prematurely grey hair framed a square face with even features and large grey eyes. Her complexion was clear and she had a good colour in her cheeks. She wore a black silk dress but no crinoline. Her only ornament was a large cameo brooch. On her smoothly arranged hair was a small white lace cap. After a moment’s hesitant scrutiny she took both Adeline’s hands in hers and kissed her.
"Welcome to your new home", she said.
"How sweet of you to say that!" cried Adeline, and the fervour of her kiss was disconcerting.
"It is to be your home, you know", put in Colonel Vaughan, "till you have built a house for yourselves".
Colonel Vaughan turned with tender eagerness to the children. Gussie looked tired out, even though her little face was sunburned to an unnatural rosiness, but Nicholas, sitting on his nurse’s arm, was superb. From under his white bonnet a dark curl hung above his fine brown eyes. His face expressed complete well-being.
"What dear, dear children!" said Mrs. Vaughan. "What a lovely baby! Do you think he will come to me?"
"He is a most gregarious rascal", said Philip. "He has made friends all the way from Quebec".
Young Robert Vaughan had stood by quietly watching the interchange of greetings. He resembled his father who looked the man of letters rather than the soldier. Robert was slenderly made. He had reflective blue eyes and a mass of fine fair hair which he wore rather long. He had spent the first ten years of his life in India, then had been sent to school in England. He had not joined his parents in Canada till the summer before. He was to enter the University in Montreal in the autumn. He had not yet settled down to life in Canada. He felt scarcely acquainted with his parents. Two such extreme transplantings in his short life had had the effect of throwing his spirit back upon itself. He was defensive; he loved no one; the look in his eyes was so impersonal as to repel any intimacy. Yet he was gentle and made haste to help his mother with the guests. After these had freshened themselves in their room they joined the Vaughans in the cool vine-shaded dining-room for supper. Above the table hung a branch of cedar, the scent of which was supposed to repel the house-flies which were so difficult to keep out. Pigeon-pie and a fine ham were on the table and a bowl of large lettuce leaves. There was a cottage cheese and later came jam, made from wild strawberries, and a caraway-seed cake.
It was hard to believe that Philip and Adeline were at the end of a long journey. He looked as well-groomed as when he had promenaded the terrace at Quebec. She, finding her dress crumpled, had retained a long silk cape of tartan. She also wore black silk mittens which accented the whiteness of her fingers, ringless except for her wedding-ring. Her jewels were safe in a travelling-case upstairs. Her hair was brushed to Chinese sleekness on her shapely head. As the black mittens accented the whiteness of her fingers, her fine black brows and lashes increased the brightness of her eyes. She looked hungrily over the table.