The Indians had remained there all the winter, so they said, because there was such an abundance of fish for food. Their winter quarters consisted of holes, about four feet deep, dug in the earth, roofed over with spruce branches heaped with snow. Fires were kindled in these lairs, and the people rarely came out save when driven to it by the necessity to catch fish for food.

The day Katherine and Miles went to the encampment it was gloriously fine, and for the first time that year the sun had real warmth in it. This had induced some of the miserable creatures to crawl out to the daylight, who perhaps had not been outside the holes for weeks. There was quite a crowd of children visible, and Katherine, whose heart always warmed to the pitiable little objects, with their mournful black eyes, produced a packet of sweets, which speedily brought a swarm of youngsters round her,

Doling the sweets out with strict impartiality, she noticed that one child had a fragment of paper in its skinny hand. This was puzzling, for the Indians were not given to education or culture in any shape or form, and the paper looked like a fragment from a letter, for she could plainly see writing upon it.

With a sign to Miles to keep the elders busy, Katherine proceeded to bribe the child to give up his dirty fragment of paper in exchange for the bag, which still had some sweets in it.

When this was done, she told Miles to cut the business short, and then they started for home. She had thrust the fragment of paper in her glove, and did not venture to look at it until they were miles away from the lake, because she did not wish the Indians to know that her curiosity had been aroused. But when the dogs had dropped into a walk, and were coming slowly up the hill at some distance behind, she pulled off her glove and proceeded to examine the dirty fragment.

It was part of a letter, and directly she saw it she recognized the handwriting as that of Mrs. Ferrars, the mother of Jervis. He had shown her some of his mother's letters, and there was no mistaking the regular, delicate handwriting. The paper was only written on on one side, and only two lines of the writing were legible:

"-is very ill; you may be sent for now at any time."

Katherine pondered over the dirty fragment with a very puzzled expression. There were three ways of explaining the presence of that bit of paper at the encampment on Ochre Lake: it might have been stolen from Jervis by the Indians, when they came down to the Cove; or the Indians coming up from Maxohama might have been robbed of the mails they were bringing by other Indians; or they might have perished in one of the winter storms, and the bags might have been found afterwards, and appropriated as justifiable treasure trove.

Katherine said nothing of all this to Miles; she wanted to speak to Jervis about it first, for, of course, it might be only part of an old letter that he had lost, and of no importance at all to anyone else. If this were proved to be the case she would be greatly relieved. A whole host of misgivings had arisen in her heart on reading the words: "You may be sent for now at any time". If Jervis were to go away, what a blank it would make in her life! Of course he would come back again, but the dreary months of his absence would be very hard to live through.

She did not see Jervis that day until evening. He came in as usual when night school was over. Then all the family were gathered in the one sitting-room the house contained, which left little chance for private conversation of any kind; the boys went away to bed after a time, taking their father with them, and then Mrs. Burton went to put her little girls to bed, and the lovers were alone for the brief half-hour which was all the time they could get for uninterrupted talk on most days. Then Katherine produced the fragment, stated how she had discovered it, and asked a little shyly if it were part of an old letter, or a bit of one he had never received.

"I have never had it, of that I am quite certain," he said, with a very grave look on his face.

"Then who is ill? Is it one of your brothers?" she asked, with a painful throb at her heart; for something in his looks and his expression made her certain that if the summons came he would have to go.

"No, George and Fred are hard as nails; nothing is likely to ail them, nor would their illness necessitate my going home. I expect it is Cousin Samuel who is ill," Jervis answered, with a curious hesitancy of manner and a sort of constraint which made Katherine's heart heavy as lead, although she held her head high and looked prouder than ever.

"What will you do?" she asked, and her tone was breathless, despite her efforts to make her voice have merely a casual sound.

"If Cousin Samuel dies I shall have to go to England, I suppose. He is the well-to-do member of our family, and his death would mean business affairs to look after," Jervis answered, as he surveyed the sc.r.a.p of paper, turning it over and over, as if to see if there were anything on it that might have been missed.

"Is he your cousin or your father's?" she asked. "Neither; he is my grandfather's first cousin, a hard, cruel old man, with not an ounce of charity, nor even ordinary kind-heartedness, in his whole composition," Jervis answered in a hard tone. "I asked his help for my mother when she was left a widow, but he turned a deaf ear to the plea, and left her to struggle on, to sink or swim as best she could."

"I see," said Katherine, and now it was her voice which was constrained. Then she asked timidly: "If you go to England, when will you have to start?"

"That will depend upon you; for of course I am not going to England to leave you behind, that goes without saying," he answered, in a masterful tone that set her heart throbbing wildly, only now it was joy, and not sorrow, that caused the emotion. "I must see what I can do about getting a minister up here to marry us," he went on; "then we should be ready to start directly the waters are open, if need should arise."

"Wouldn't it be wiser to put off our wedding until you come back? It will cost you such a fearful lot to take me too," she said, feeling that she must take a common-sense, prudent view of the situation, although the prospect of going with him set her nerves tingling with delight.

"No, no, sweetheart, I am not going to leave you behind," he said, holding her hand in a pressure that hurt her. "If I go to England I will take my wife along with me; if that can't be managed I will stay where I am."

Katherine laughed. "It is all very well to be so positive, but I don't see how it is to be managed. It is one thing for me to marry and just go over the river to live, because then I can always come to help when I am wanted," she said, the mirth dying out of her face, and leaving it with a troubled look; "but it is quite another matter to marry and go straight away to England."

"Nevertheless, it may have to be done," he said; adding, with a smile: "Don't be so conceited as to think the world can't turn round without your help in pushing it. Here comes Mrs. Burton; let us ask her opinion."

"Upon what?" said Nellie, who came out from the bedroom at that moment.

"Upon our getting married at the very earliest opportunity and going to England afterwards on a honeymoon trip, if we feel so inclined," replied Jervis promptly.

Mrs. Burton looked considerably surprised, but she said quickly: "The trip would do Katherine a lot of good, if you can afford the time and the expense, and we could spare her somehow."

"Just my own opinion," he answered, with a laugh.

CHAPTER x.x.x

Preparations

The weeks slid past at a faster rate when the snow began to melt and the water came over the rapids with a roar, and a rush that threatened to sweep everything before it. Jervis went up to Ochre Lake a day or two after Katherine brought him that dirty fragment of paper, and offered to buy any more of the same kind of thing which the Indians might happen to possess, and pay for it liberally with tobacco. But no one appeared to know anything about the sc.r.a.p, and no one had any more fragments to offer in barter, so he had to go away with the mystery unsolved. Then a week later, when Katherine and Miles went to the encampment with a sledgeload of provisions it was to find that the whole lot had vanished, leaving the dug-outs, in which they had existed so long, deserted. There was no chance of tracing them, for the very next day it began to snow again, and after two days of uninterrupted snowfall it began to rain, and everyone realized that spring was coming.

There had been no trouble on the score of 'Duke Radford's health in this second winter. His mind was placid, though clouded still. He was gentle and affectionate, and easily pleased, and he played with the two little girls as if he had been one of themselves.

Katherine, watching him with anxious, loving eyes, noticed that now he clung to Nellie more than he did to her. At first this raised an acute jealousy in her heart, for she was very human, and in his days of health and mental vigour her father had always clung most to her; but a very little reflection brought her to see that this change was really a matter for thankfulness, as he would not miss her so much during her absence. It was good for Mrs. Burton, too; for the more there were to love and depend upon her the easier did she find it to rise to the occasion, and be ready to meet all the demands upon her.

The great difficulty in arranging for an early marriage lay in securing a minister to perform the ceremony. Directly the waters were open, Jervis sent men with mails to Maxohama, with instructions to bring back a clergyman with them-the bishop if they could get him; but if he were not available, that is, if his spring visitation had not begun, then some other clergyman must be secured. He also sent a letter to Mr. Selincourt, urging that gentleman's speedy return, stating as his reason the necessity there might be for his own absence when the fishing commenced.

When the men had gone there were other preparations to be set afoot, and, although five weeks might possibly elapse before the men returned with the clergyman, arrangements for the ceremony had to be set about without delay, because there was so much to be done.

A wedding in that out-of-the-way place was such an extraordinary occasion that everyone at Seal Cove and Roaring Water Portage would expect an invitation, so preparations must be made to welcome and entertain the entire population. Katherine would have much preferred to be quietly married in their sitting-room, with no one but her own people to look at her; but Mrs. Burton protested loudly at this, and even Jervis took sides with her, saying that everyone would surely be disappointed if shut out.

"But you don't mean to ask everyone?" exclaimed Katherine.

"I expect everyone will want to come," Jervis replied, with a shrug of his broad shoulders.

"Do you mean to ask Oily Dave, Bobby Poole, and all that lot?" she cried in dismay.

"If they will come I shall be delighted to see them," he answered gravely.

"But Oily Dave--" she began, then stopped as if she had no words adequate to the expression of her feelings.

"Tried to kill me once, were you going to say? I know he did. But perhaps if he had not fastened me in, to drown like a rat in a hole, you would not have come to rescue me; and as that fact so much out-balances the other, why, I feel rather in Oily Dave's debt than otherwise."

It was the Sunday after the men had started with the mail for Maxohama, and Jervis was walking with Katherine in the woods above the first portage, while the laughing chuckle of the ptarmigan sounded on all sides.

Katherine began to smile at the figure her wedding guests might be expected to cut, then cried out in alarm: "Oh dear, whatever shall we do if the bishop comes, as you have asked? What will he think of such a mixed medley of folks?"

"I have no doubt that he will think it a fine opportunity for preaching a sermon, and, as he is really a very eloquent man, he is sure to be worth listening to," Jervis said quietly.

"There is one thing Nellie and I can't agree about, and I want you to settle it for me," she said, facing round upon him with a sudden gravity which surprised him, because she had been laughing only a moment before.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Nellie wants to take French leave and borrow Mr. Selincourt's new house for the wedding; but I should hate it!" she exclaimed vehemently.

"There is no need-besides, Mr. Selincourt will probably be here. Why not use the store? Your stocks of goods are nearly at their lowest, and the people that could not get inside could stay outside," he said.

Katherine drew a long breath of relief; then she said softly: "Thank you; I thought you would not disappoint me. You never have; I do not think you ever will. But Nellie said-"

"Yes, what did she say?" he asked, his voice very gentle now, as if he understood something of the trouble and diffidence which lay behind.

"Nellie said that you would not care to be married in a country store, with cheese and bacon and all that sort of thing about. She and Ted Burton were married so, but that was different," Katherine answered jerkily.