Part 10 (1/2)
”And why not?” said Elizabeth indignantly. ”If he didn't love the country and believe in it he wouldn't be going into its public life. You can feel that he is Canadian through and through.”
”A farmer's son, I think, from Manitoba?”
”Yes.” Elizabeth's tone was a little defensive.
”Will you not sometimes--if you watch his career--regret that, with his ability, he has not the environment--and the audience--of the Old World?”
”No, never! He will be one of the shapers of the new.”
Delaine looked at her with a certain pa.s.sion.
”All very well, but _you_ don't belong to it. We can't spare you from the old.”
”Oh, as for me, I'm full of vicious and corrupt habits!” put in Elizabeth hurriedly. ”I am not nearly good enough for the new!”
”Thank goodness for that!” said Delaine fervently, and, bending forward, he tried to see her face. But Elizabeth did not allow it. She could not help flus.h.i.+ng; but as she bent over the side of the platform looking ahead, she announced in her gayest voice that there was a town to be seen, and it was probably Regina.
The station at Regina, when they steamed into it, was crowded with folk, and gay with flags. Anderson, after a conversation with the station-master, came to the car to say that the Governor-General, Lord Wrekin, who had been addressing a meeting at Regina, was expected immediately, to take the East-bound train; which was indeed already lying, with its steam up, on the further side of the station, the Viceregal car in its rear.
”But there are complications. Look there!”
He pointed to a procession coming along the platform. Six men bore a coffin covered with white flowers. Behind it came persons in black, a group of men, and one woman; then others, mostly young men, also in mourning, and bare-headed.
As the procession pa.s.sed the car, Anderson and Delaine uncovered.
Elizabeth turned a questioning look on Anderson.
”A young man from Ontario,” he explained, ”quite a lad. He had come here out West to a farm--to work his way--a good, harmless little fellow--the son of a widow. A week ago a vicious horse kicked him in the stable. He died yesterday morning. They are taking him back to Ontario to be buried. The friends of his chapel subscribed to do it, and they brought his mother here to nurse him. She arrived just in time. That is she.”
He pointed to the bowed figure, hidden in a long c.r.a.pe veil. Elizabeth's eyes filled.
”But it comes awkwardly,” Anderson went on, looking back along the platform--”for the Governor-General is expected this very moment. The funeral ought to have been here half an hour ago. They seem to have been delayed. Ah! here he is!”
”Elizabeth!--his Excellency!” cried Philip, emerging from the car.
”Hus.h.!.+” Elizabeth put her finger to her lip. The young man looked at the funeral procession in astonishment, which was just reaching the side of the empty van on the East-bound train which was waiting, with wide-open doors, to receive the body. The bearers let down the coffin gently to the ground, and stood waiting in hesitation. But there were no railway employes to help them. A flurried station-master and his staff were receiving the official party. Suddenly someone started the revival hymn, ”Shall We Gather at the River?” It was taken up vigorously by the thirty or forty young men who had followed the coffin, and their voices, rising and falling in a familiar lilting melody, filled the station:
Yes, we'll gather at the river, The beautiful, beautiful river-- Gather with the saints at the river, That flows by the throne of G.o.d!
Elizabeth looked towards the entrance of the station. A tall and slender man had just stepped on to the platform. It was the Governor-General, with a small staff behind him. The staff and the station officials stood hat in hand. A few English tourists from the West-bound train hurried up; the men uncovered, the ladies curtsied. A group of settlers' wives newly arrived from Minnesota, who were standing near the entrance, watched the arrival with curiosity. Lord Wrekin, seeing women in his path, saluted them; and they replied with a friendly and democratic nod.
Then suddenly the Governor-General heard the singing, and perceived the black distant crowd. He inquired of the persons near him, and then pa.s.sed on through the groups which had begun to gather round himself, raising his hand for silence. The pa.s.sengers of the West-bound train had by now mostly descended, and pressed after him. Bare-headed, he stood behind the mourners while the hymn proceeded, and the coffin was lifted and placed in the car with the wreaths round it. The mother clung a moment to the side of the door, unconsciously resisting those who tried to lead her away. The kind grey eyes of the Governor-General rested upon her, but he made no effort to approach or speak to her. Only his stillness kept the crowd still.
Elizabeth at her window watched the scene--the tall figure of his Excellency--the bowed woman--the throng of officials and of mourners.
Over the head of the Governor-General a couple of flags swelled in a light breeze--the Union Jack and the Maple Leaf; beyond the heads of the crowd there was a distant glimpse of the barracks of the Mounted Police; and then boundless prairie and floating cloud.
At last the mother yielded, and was led to the carriage behind the coffin. Gently, with bent head, Lord Wrekin made his way to her. But no one heard what pa.s.sed between them. Then, silently, the funeral crowd dispersed, and another crowd--of officials and business men--claimed the Governor-General. Standing in its midst, he turned for a moment to scan the West-bound train.
”Ah, Lady Merton!” He had perceived the car and Elizabeth's face at the window, and he hastened across to speak to her. They were old friends in England, and they had already met in Ottawa.
”So I find you on your travels! Well?”