Kilmeny of the Orchard

  Produced by Elizabeth Morton, Mary Mark Ockerbloom, and Ben Crowder

  KILMENY OF THE ORCHARD

  By L. M. MONTGOMERY

  Author of "Anne's House of Dreams," "Rainbow Valley," "Rilla ofIngleside," etc.

  ______________________________________________________________________Transcriber's Note:

  This book has been put on-line as part of the BUILD-A-BOOK Initiative atthe Celebration of Women Writers through the combined work of ElizabethMorton and Mary Mark Ockerbloom.

  https://digital.library.upenn.edu/women/

  Reformatted by Ben Crowder______________________________________________________________________

  TO MY COUSIN

  Beatrice A. McIntyre

  THIS BOOK

  IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED

  "Kilmeny looked up with a lovely grace, But nae smile was seen on Kilmeny's face; As still was her look, and as still was her ee, As the stillness that lay on the emerant lea, Or the mist that sleeps on a waveless sea. . . . . . . . . . . . . . Such beauty bard may never declare, For there was no pride nor passion there; . . . . . . . . . . . . . Her seymar was the lily flower, And her cheek the moss-rose in the shower; And her voice like the distant melodye That floats along the twilight sea."

  -- _The Queen's Wake_ JAMES HOGG

  CONTENTS

  I. The Thoughts of Youth II. A Letter of Destiny III. The Master of Lindsay School IV. A Tea Table Conversation V. A Phantom of Delight VI. The Story of Kilmeny VII. A Rose of Womanhood VIII. At the Gate of Eden IX. The Straight Simplicity of Eve X. A Troubling of the Waters XI. A Lover and His Lass XII. A Prisoner of Love XIII. A Sweeter Woman Ne'er Drew Breath XIV. In Her Selfless Mood XV. An Old, Unhappy, Far-off Thing XVI. David Baker's Opinion XVII. A Broken Fetter XVIII. Neil Gordon Solves His Own Problem XIX. Victor from Vanquished Issues

  KILMENY OF THE ORCHARD

  CHAPTER I. THE THOUGHTS OF YOUTH

  The sunshine of a day in early spring, honey pale and honey sweet, wasshowering over the red brick buildings of Queenslea College and thegrounds about them, throwing through the bare, budding maples and elms,delicate, evasive etchings of gold and brown on the paths, and coaxinginto life the daffodils that were peering greenly and perkily up underthe windows of the co-eds' dressing-room.

  A young April wind, as fresh and sweet as if it had been blowing overthe fields of memory instead of through dingy streets, was purring inthe tree-tops and whipping the loose tendrils of the ivy network whichcovered the front of the main building. It was a wind that sang of manythings, but what it sang to each listener was only what was in thatlistener's heart. To the college students who had just been capped anddiplomad by "Old Charlie," the grave president of Queenslea, in thepresence of an admiring throng of parents and sisters, sweethearts andfriends, it sang, perchance, of glad hope and shining success and highachievement. It sang of the dreams of youth that may never be quitefulfilled, but are well worth the dreaming for all that. God help theman who has never known such dreams--who, as he leaves his alma mater,is not already rich in aerial castles, the proprietor of many a spaciousestate in Spain. He has missed his birthright.

  The crowd streamed out of the entrance hall and scattered over thecampus, fraying off into the many streets beyond. Eric Marshall andDavid Baker walked away together. The former had graduated in Arts thatday at the head of his class; the latter had come to see the graduation,nearly bursting with pride in Eric's success.

  Between these two was an old and tried and enduring friendship, althoughDavid was ten years older than Eric, as the mere tale of years goes, anda hundred years older in knowledge of the struggles and difficulties oflife which age a man far more quickly and effectually than the passingof time.

  Physically the two men bore no resemblance to one another, althoughthey were second cousins. Eric Marshall, tall, broad-shouldered, sinewy,walking with a free, easy stride, which was somehow suggestive ofreserve strength and power, was one of those men regarding whomless-favoured mortals are tempted seriously to wonder why all the giftsof fortune should be showered on one individual. He was not only cleverand good to look upon, but he possessed that indefinable charm ofpersonality which is quite independent of physical beauty or mentalability. He had steady, grayish-blue eyes, dark chestnut hair with aglint of gold in its waves when the sunlight struck it, and a chin thatgave the world assurance of a chin. He was a rich man's son, with aclean young manhood behind him and splendid prospects before him. Hewas considered a practical sort of fellow, utterly guiltless of romanticdreams and visions of any sort.

  "I am afraid Eric Marshall will never do one quixotic thing," saida Queenslea professor, who had a habit of uttering rather mysteriousepigrams, "but if he ever does it will supply the one thing lacking inhim."

  David Baker was a short, stocky fellow with an ugly, irregular, charmingface; his eyes were brown and keen and secretive; his mouth had acomical twist which became sarcastic, or teasing, or winning, as hewilled. His voice was generally as soft and musical as a woman's; butsome few who had seen David Baker righteously angry and heard the toneswhich then issued from his lips were in no hurry to have the experiencerepeated.

  He was a doctor--a specialist in troubles of the throat and voice--andhe was beginning to have a national reputation. He was on the staff ofthe Queenslea Medical College and it was whispered that before long hewould be called to fill an important vacancy at McGill.

  He had won his way to success through difficulties and drawbacks whichwould have daunted most men. In the year Eric was born David Bakerwas an errand boy in the big department store of Marshall & Company.Thirteen years later he graduated with high honors from QueensleaMedical College. Mr. Marshall had given him all the help which David'ssturdy pride could be induced to accept, and now he insisted on sendingthe young man abroad for a post-graduate course in London and Germany.David Baker had eventually repaid every cent Mr. Marshall had expendedon him; but he never ceased to cherish a passionate gratitude tothe kind and generous man; and he loved that man's son with a lovesurpassing that of brothers.

  He had followed Eric's college course with keen, watchful interest. Itwas his wish that Eric should take up the study of law or medicine nowthat he was through Arts; and he was greatly disappointed that Ericshould have finally made up his mind to go into business with hisfather.

  "It's a clean waste of your talents," he grumbled, as they walked homefrom the college. "You'd win fame and distinction in law--that glibtongue of yours was meant for a lawyer and it is sheer flying in theface of Providence to devote it to commercial uses--a flat crossing ofthe purposes of destiny. Where is your ambition, man?"

  "In the right place," answered Eric, with his ready laugh. "It is notyour kind, perhaps, but there is room and need for all kinds in thislusty young country of ours. Yes, I am going into the business. In thefirst place, it has been father's cherished desire ever since I wasborn, and it would hurt him pretty badly if I backed out now. He wishedme to take an Arts course because he believed that every man should haveas liberal an education as he can afford to get, but now that I have hadit he wants me in the firm."

  "He wouldn't oppose you if he thought you really wanted to go in forsomething else."

  "Not he. But I don't really want to--that's the point, David, man. Youhate a business life so much yourself that you can't get it into yourblessed noddle that another man might like it. There are many lawyers inthe world--too many, perhaps--but there are never too many good honestmen of business, ready to do clean big thin
gs for the betterment ofhumanity and the upbuilding of their country, to plan great enterprisesand carry them through with brain and courage, to manage and control, toaim high and strike one's aim. There, I'm waxing eloquent, so I'd betterstop. But ambition, man! Why, I'm full of it--it's bubbling in everypore of me. I mean to make the department store of Marshall & Companyfamous from ocean to ocean. Father started in life as a poor boy froma Nova Scotian farm. He has built up a business that has a provincialreputation. I mean to carry it on. In five years it shall have amaritime reputation, in ten, a Canadian. I want to make the firm ofMarshall & Company stand for something big in the commercial interestsof Canada. Isn't that as honourable an ambition as trying to make blackseem white in a court of law, or discovering some new disease witha harrowing name to torment poor creatures who might otherwise diepeacefully in blissful ignorance of what ailed them?"

  "When you begin to make poor jokes it is time to stop arguing with you,"said David, with a shrug of his fat shoulders. "Go your own gait anddree your own weird. I'd as soon expect success in trying to storm thecitadel single-handed as in trying to turn you from any course aboutwhich you had once made up your mind. Whew, this street takes it out ofa fellow! What could have possessed our ancestors to run a town up theside of a hill? I'm not so slim and active as I was on MY graduationday ten years ago. By the way, what a lot of co-eds were in yourclass--twenty, if I counted right. When I graduated there were onlytwo ladies in our class and they were the pioneers of their sex atQueenslea. They were well past their first youth, very grim and angularand serious; and they could never have been on speaking terms witha mirror in their best days. But mark you, they were excellentfemales--oh, very excellent. Times have changed with a vengeance,judging from the line-up of co-eds to-day. There was one girl there whocan't be a day over eighteen--and she looked as if she were made out ofgold and roseleaves and dewdrops."

  "The oracle speaks in poetry," laughed Eric. "That was FlorencePercival, who led the class in mathematics, as I'm a living man. By manyshe is considered the beauty of her class. I can't say that such ismy opinion. I don't greatly care for that blonde, babyish style ofloveliness--I prefer Agnes Campion. Did you notice her--the tall, darkgirl with the ropes of hair and a sort of crimson, velvety bloom on herface, who took honours in philosophy?"

  "I DID notice her," said David emphatically, darting a keen side glanceat his friend. "I noticed her most particularly and critically--forsomeone whispered her name behind me and coupled it with the exceedinglyinteresting information that Miss Campion was supposed to be the futureMrs. Eric Marshall. Whereupon I stared at her with all my eyes."

  "There is no truth in that report," said Eric in a tone of annoyance."Agnes and I are the best of friends and nothing more. I like and admireher more than any woman I know; but if the future Mrs. Eric Marshallexists in the flesh I haven't met her yet. I haven't even started outto look for her--and don't intend to for some years to come. I havesomething else to think of," he concluded, in a tone of contempt, forwhich anyone might have known he would be punished sometime if Cupidwere not deaf as well as blind.

  "You'll meet the lady of the future some day," said David dryly. "And inspite of your scorn I venture to predict that if fate doesn't bringher before long you'll very soon start out to look for her. A word ofadvice, oh, son of your mother. When you go courting take your commonsense with you."

  "Do you think I shall be likely to leave it behind?" asked Ericamusedly.

  "Well, I mistrust you," said David, sagely wagging his head. "TheLowland Scotch part of you is all right, but there's a Celtic streak inyou, from that little Highland grandmother of yours, and when a man hasthat there's never any knowing where it will break out, or what danceit will lead him, especially when it comes to this love-making business.You are just as likely as not to lose your head over some little fool orshrew for the sake of her outward favour and make yourself miserable forlife. When you pick you a wife please remember that I shall reserve theright to pass a candid opinion on her."

  "Pass all the opinions you like, but it is MY opinion, and mine only,which will matter in the long run," retorted Eric.

  "Confound you, yes, you stubborn offshoot of a stubborn breed," growledDavid, looking at him affectionately. "I know that, and that is why I'llnever feel at ease about you until I see you married to the right sortof a girl. She's not hard to find. Nine out of ten girls in this countryof ours are fit for kings' palaces. But the tenth always has to bereckoned with."

  "You are as bad as _Clever Alice_ in the fairy tale who worried over thefuture of her unborn children," protested Eric.

  "_Clever Alice_ has been very unjustly laughed at," said David gravely."We doctors know that. Perhaps she overdid the worrying business alittle, but she was perfectly right in principle. If people worrieda little more about their unborn children--at least, to the extent ofproviding a proper heritage, physically, mentally, and morally, forthem--and then stopped worrying about them after they ARE born, thisworld would be a very much pleasanter place to live in, and the humanrace would make more progress in a generation than it has done inrecorded history."

  "Oh, if you are going to mount your dearly beloved hobby of heredityI am not going to argue with you, David, man. But as for the matterof urging me to hasten and marry me a wife, why don't you"--It was onEric's lips to say, "Why don't you get married to a girl of the rightsort yourself and set me a good example?" But he checked himself. Heknew that there was an old sorrow in David Baker's life which was not tobe unduly jarred by the jests even of privileged friendship. He changedhis question to, "Why don't you leave this on the knees of the godswhere it properly belongs? I thought you were a firm believer inpredestination, David."

  "Well, so I am, to a certain extent," said David cautiously. "I believe,as an excellent old aunt of mine used to say, that what is to be willbe and what isn't to be happens sometimes. And it is precisely suchunchancy happenings that make the scheme of things go wrong. I dare sayyou think me an old fogy, Eric; but I know something more of the worldthan you do, and I believe, with Tennyson's _Arthur_, that 'there's nomore subtle master under heaven than is the maiden passion for a maid.'I want to see you safely anchored to the love of some good woman as soonas may be, that's all. I'm rather sorry Miss Campion isn't your lady ofthe future. I liked her looks, that I did. She is good and strong andtrue--and has the eyes of a woman who could love in a way that wouldbe worth while. Moreover, she's well-born, well-bred, andwell-educated--three very indispensable things when it comes to choosinga woman to fill your mother's place, friend of mine!"

  "I agree with you," said Eric carelessly. "I could not marry any womanwho did not fulfill those conditions. But, as I have said, I am not inlove with Agnes Campion--and it wouldn't be of any use if I were. She isas good as engaged to Larry West. You remember West?"

  "That thin, leggy fellow you chummed with so much your first two yearsin Queenslea? Yes, what has become of him?"

  "He had to drop out after his second year for financial reasons. He isworking his own way through college, you know. For the past two yearshe has been teaching school in some out-of-the-way place over in PrinceEdward Island. He isn't any too well, poor fellow--never was very strongand has studied remorselessly. I haven't heard from him since February.He said then that he was afraid he wasn't going to be able to stick itout till the end of the school year. I hope Larry won't break down. Heis a fine fellow and worthy even of Agnes Campion. Well, here we are.Coming in, David?"

  "Not this afternoon--haven't got time. I must mosey up to the North Endto see a man who has got a lovely throat. Nobody can find out what isthe matter. He has puzzled all the doctors. He has puzzled me, but I'llfind out what is wrong with him if he'll only live long enough."