CHAPTER XXXVIII

rcouldmakethatboydoanythinghedidn’twanttodo.Fromthedayhewasborn.Yethewasalwaysaquiet,gentlelittlechap,too.Goodasgold.Hispoormotherdiedwhenhewasonlytwoyearsold.I’djustbeguntomakemoneywithmyHairVigor.I’ddreamedtheformulaforit,yousee.Somedreamthat.Thecashrolledin.Berniehadeverythinghewanted.Isenthimtothebestschools—privateschools.Imeanttomakeagentlemanofhim.Neverhadanychancemyself.Meantheshouldhaveeverychance.HewentthroughMcGill.Gothonoursandallthat.Iwantedhimtogoinforlaw.Hehankeredafterjournalismandstufflikethat.Wantedmetobuyapaperforhim—orbackhiminpublishingwhathecalleda‘real,worthwhile,honest-to-goodnessCanadianMagazine.’Is’poseI’dhavedoneit—Ialwaysdidwhathewantedmetodo.Wasn’theallIhadtolivefor?Iwantedhimtobehappy.Andheneverwashappy.Canyoubelieveit?Notthathesaidso.ButI’dalwaysafeelingthathewasn’thappy.Everythinghewanted—allthemoneyhecouldspend—hisownbankaccount—travel—seeingtheworld—buthewasn’thappy.NottillhefellinlovewithEthelTraverse.Thenhewashappyforalittlewhile.” Thecloudhadreachedthesunandagreat,chill,purpleshadowcameswiftlyoverMistawis.IttouchedtheBlueCastle—rolledoverit.Valancyshivered. “Yes,”shesaid,withpainfuleagerness,thougheverywordwascuttinghertotheheart.“What—was—she—like?” “PrettiestgirlinMontreal,”saidDr.Redfern.“Oh,shewasalooker,allright.Eh?Goldhair—shinyassilk—great,big,soft,blackeyes—skinlikemilkandroses.Don’twonderBerniefellforher.Andbrainsaswell.Shewasn’tabitoffluff.B.A.fromMcGill.Athoroughbred,too.Oneofthebestfamilies.Butabitleaninthepurse.Eh!Berniewasmadabouther.Happiestyoungfoolyoueversaw.Then—thebust-up.” “Whathappened?”Valancyhadtakenoffherhatandwasabsentlythrustingapininandoutofit.GoodLuckwaspurringbesideher.BanjowasregardingDr.Redfernwithsuspicion.NipandTuckwerelazilycawinginthepines.Mistawiswasbeckoning.Everythingwasthesame.Nothingwasthesame.Itwasahundredyearssinceyesterday.Yesterday,atthistime,sheandBarneyhadbeeneatingabelateddinnerherewithlaughter.Laughter?Valancyfeltthatshehaddonewithlaughterforever.Andwithtears,forthatmatter.Shehadnofurtheruseforeitherofthem. “BlestifIknow,mydear.Somefoolquarrel,Isuppose.Berniejustlitout—disappeared.HewrotemefromtheYukon.Saidhisengagementwasbrokenandhewasn’tcomingback.Andnottotrytohunthimupbecausehewasnevercomingback.Ididn’t.Whatwastheuse?IknewBernie.Iwentonpiling,upmoneybecausetherewasn’tanythingelsetodo.ButIwasmightylonely.AllIlivedforwasthemlittlenotesnowandthenfromBernie—Klondike—England—SouthAfrica—China—everywhere.Ithoughtmaybehe’dcomebacksomedaytohislonesomeolddad.Thensixyearsagoeventhelettersstopped.Ididn’thearawordoforfromhimtilllastChristmas.” “Didhewrite?” “No.Buthedrewacheckforfifteenthousanddollarsonhisbankaccount.Thebankmanagerisafriendofmine—oneofmybiggestshareholders.He’dalwayspromisedmehe’dletmeknowifBerniedrewanychecks.Berniehadfiftythousandthere.Andhe’dnevertouchedacentofittilllastChristmas.ThecheckwasmadeouttoAynsley’s,Toronto——” “Aynsley’s?”ValancyheardherselfsayingAynsley’s!Shehadaboxonherdressing-tablewiththeAynsleytrademark. “Yes.Thebigjewelleryhousether