CHAPTER 30
LESLIE DECIDES
A sudden outbreak of a virulent type of influenza at
the Glen and down at the fishing village kept Gilbert
so busy for the next fortnight that he had no time to
pay the promised visit to Captain Jim. Anne hoped
against hope that he had abandoned the idea about Dick
Moore, and, resolving to let sleeping dogs lie, she
said no more about the subject. But she thought of it
incessantly.
"I wonder if it would be right for me to tell him that
Leslie cares for Owen," she thought. "He would never
let her suspect that he knew, so her pride would not
suffer, and it MIGHT convince him that he should let
Dick Moore alone. Shall I--shall I? No, after all, I
cannot. A promise is sacred, and I've no right to
betray Leslie's secret. But oh, I never felt so
worried over anything in my life as I do over this.
It's spoiling the spring--it's spoiling everything."
One evening Gilbert abruptly proposed that they go down
and see Captain Jim. With a sinking heart Anne agreed,
and they set forth. Two weeks of kind sunshine had
wrought a miracle in the bleak landscape over which
Gilbert's crow had flown. The hills and fields were
dry and brown and warm, ready to break into bud and
blossom; the harbor was laughter-shaken again; the long
harbor road was like a gleaming red ribbon; down on the
dunes a crowd of boys, who were out smelt fishing, were
burning the thick, dry sandhill grass of the preceding
summer. The flames swept over the dunes rosily,
flinging their cardinal banners against the dark gulf
beyond, and illuminating the channel and the fishing
village. It was a picturesque scene which would at
other times have delighted Anne's eyes; but she was not
enjoying this walk. Neither was Gilbert. Their usual
good-comradeship and Josephian community of taste and
viewpoint were sadly lacking. Anne's disapproval of
the whole project showed itself in the haughty uplift
of her head and the studied politeness of her remarks.
Gilbert's mouth was set in all the Blythe obstinacy,
but his eyes were troubled. He meant to do what he
believed to be his duty; but to be at outs with Anne
was a high price to pay. Altogether, both were glad
when they reached the light--and remorseful that they
should be glad.
Captain Jim put away the fishing net upon which he was
working, and welcomed them joyfully. In the searching
light of the spring evening he looked older than Anne
had ever seen him. His hair had grown much grayer, and
the strong old hand shook a little. But his blue eyes
were clear and steady, and the staunch soul looked out
through them gallant and unafraid.
Captain Jim listened in amazed silence while Gilbert
said what he had come to say. Anne, who knew how the
old man worshipped Leslie, felt quite sure that he
would side with her, although she had not much hope
that this would influence Gilbert. She was therefore
surprised beyond measure when Captain Jim, slowly and
sorrowfully, but unhesitatingly, gave it as his opinion
that Leslie should be told.
"Oh, Captain Jim, I didn't think you'd say that," she
exclaimed reproachfully. "I thought you wouldn't want
to make more trouble for her."
Captain Jim shook his head.
"I don't want to. I know how you feel about it,
Mistress Blythe-- just as I feel meself. But it ain't
our feelings we have to steer by through life--no, no,
we'd make shipwreck mighty often if we did that.
There's only the one safe compass and we've got to set
our course by that--what it's right to do. I agree
with the doctor. If there's a chance for Dick, Leslie
should be told of it. There's no two sides to that, in
my opinion."
"Well," said Anne, giving up in despair, "wait until
Miss Cornelia gets after you two men."
"Cornelia'll rake us fore and aft, no doubt," assented
Captain Jim. "You women are lovely critters, Mistress
Blythe, but you're just a mite illogical. You're a
highly eddicated lady and Cornelia isn't, but you're
like as two peas when it comes to that. I dunno's
you're any the worse for it. Logic is a sort of hard,
merciless thing, I reckon. Now, I'll brew a cup of tea
and we'll drink it and talk of pleasant things, jest to
calm our minds a bit."
At least, Captain Jim's tea and conversation calmed
Anne's mind to such an extent that she did not make
Gilbert suffer so acutely on the way home as she had
deliberately intended to do. She did not refer to the
burning question at all, but she chatted amiably of
other matters, and Gilbert understood that he was
forgiven under protest.
"Captain Jim seems very frail and bent this spring.
The winter has aged him," said Anne sadly. "I am
afraid that he will soon be going to seek lost
Margaret. I can't bear to think of it."
"Four Winds won't be the same place when Captain Jim
`sets out to sea,'" agreed Gilbert.
The following evening he went to the house up the
brook. Anne wandered dismally around until his
return.
"Well, what did Leslie say?" she demanded when he came
in.
"Very little. I think she felt rather dazed."
"And is she going to have the operation?"
"She is going to think it over and decide very soon."
Gilbert flung himself wearily into the easy chair
before the fire. He looked tired. It had not been an
easy thing for him to tell Leslie. And the terror that
had sprung into her eyes when the meaning of what he
told her came home to her was not a pleasant thing to
remember. Now, when the die was cast, he was beset
with doubts of his own wisdom.
Anne looked at him remorsefully; then she slipped down
on the rug beside him and laid her glossy red head on
his arm.
"Gilbert, I've been rather hateful over this. I won't
be any more. Please just call me red-headed and
forgive me."
By which Gilbert understood that, no matter what came
of it, there would be no I-told-you-so's. But he was
not wholly comforted. Duty in the abstract is one
thing; duty in the concrete is quite another,
especially when the doer is confronted by a woman's
stricken eyes.
Some instinct made Anne keep away from Leslie for the
next three days. On the third evening Leslie came down
to the little house and told Gilbert that she had made
up her mind; she would take Dick to Montreal and have
the operation.
She was very pale and seemed to have wrapped herself in
her old mantle of aloofness. But her eyes had lost the
look which had haunted Gilbert; they were cold and
bright; and she proceeded to discuss details with him
in a crisp, business-like way. There were plans to be
made and many things to be thought over. When Leslie
had got the information she wanted she went home. Anne
wanted to walk part of the way with her.
"Better not," said Leslie curtly. "Today's rain has
made the ground damp. Good-night."
"Have I lost my friend?" said Anne with a sigh. "If
the operation is successful and Dick Moore finds
himself again Leslie will retreat into some remote
fastness of her soul where none of us can ever find
her."
"Perhaps she will leave him," said Gilbert.
"Leslie would never do that, Gilbert. Her sense of
duty is very strong. She told me once that her
Grandmother West always impressed upon her the fact
that when she assumed any responsibility she must never
shirk it, no matter what the consequences might be.
That is one of her cardinal rules. I suppose it's very
old-fashioned ."
"Don't be bitter, Anne-girl. You know you don't think
it old- fashioned--you know you have the very same idea
of sacredness of assumed responsibilities yourself.
And you are right. Shirking responsibilities is the
curse of our modern life--the secret of all the unrest
and discontent that is seething in the world."
"Thus saith the preacher," mocked Anne. But under the
mockery she felt that he was right; and she was very
sick at heart for Leslie.
A week later Miss Cornelia descended like an avalanche
upon the little house. Gilbert was away and Anne was
compelled to bear the shock of the impact alone.
Miss Cornelia hardly waited to get her hat off before
she began.
"Anne, do you mean to tell me it's true what I've
heard--that Dr. Blythe has told Leslie Dick can be
cured, and that she is going to take him to Montreal to
have him operated on?"
"Yes, it is quite true, Miss Cornelia," said Anne
bravely.
"Well, it's inhuman cruelty, that's what it is," said
Miss Cornelia, violently agitated. "I did think Dr.
Blythe was a decent man. I didn't think he could have
been guilty of this."
"Dr. Blythe thought it was his duty to tell Leslie that
there was a chance for Dick," said Anne with spirit,
"and," she added, loyalty to Gilbert getting the
better of her, "I agree with him."
"Oh, no, you don't, dearie," said Miss Cornelia. "No
person with any bowels of compassion could."
"Captain Jim does."
"Don't quote that old ninny to me," cried Miss
Cornelia. "And I don't care who agrees with him.
Think--THINK what it means to that poor hunted, harried
girl."
"We DO think of it. But Gilbert believes that a doctor
should put the welfare of a patient's mind and body
before all other considerations."
"That's just like a man. But I expected better things
of you, Anne," said Miss Cornelia, more in sorrow than
in wrath; then she proceeded to bombard Anne with
precisely the same arguments with which the latter had
attacked Gilbert; and Anne valiantly defended her
husband with the weapons he had used for his own
protection. Long was the fray, but Miss Cornelia made
an end at last.
"It's an iniquitous shame," she declared, almost in
tears. "That's just what it is--an iniquitous shame.
Poor, poor Leslie!"
"Don't you think Dick should be considered a little
too?" pleaded Anne.
"Dick! Dick Moore! HE'S happy enough. He's a better
behaved and more reputable member of society now than
he ever was before.
Why, he was a drunkard and perhaps worse. Are you
going to set him loose again to roar and to devour?"
"He may reform," said poor Anne, beset by foe without
and traitor within.
"Reform your grandmother!" retorted Miss Cornelia.
"Dick Moore got the injuries that left him as he is in
a drunken brawl. He DESERVES his fate. It was sent on
him for a punishment. I don't believe the doctor has
any business to tamper with the visitations of God."
"Nobody knows how Dick was hurt, Miss Cornelia. It may
not have been in a drunken brawl at all. He may have
been waylaid and robbed."
"Pigs MAY whistle, but they've poor mouths for it,"
said Miss Cornelia. "Well, the gist of what you tell
me is that the thing is settled and there's no use in
talking. If that's so I'll hold my tongue. I don't
propose to wear MY teeth out gnawing files. When a
thing has to be I give in to it. But I like to make
mighty sure first that it HAS to be. Now, I'll devote
MY energies to comforting and sustaining Leslie. And
after all," added Miss Cornelia, brightening up
hopefully, "perhaps nothing can be done for Dick."
