Mrs. Murray met them at the dock. "You are back, Dr. Brown," she cried. "Did you forget something? We are glad to see you at any rate." Then noticing the men's faces, she said, "What is the matter, James? Is there anything wrong?""We bring terrible news, Mother," he said. "We are at war."Mrs. Murray's' mind, like her husband's, moved swiftly. She was a life partner in the fullest sense. In business as in the home she shared his plans and purposes. "What about the block, James?" she asked.
"I wired Eastwood," he replied, "to stop that.""What is it, Mother?" inquired Isabel, who stood upon the dock clinging to her mother's dress, and who saw in the grave, faces about her signs of disaster.
"Hush, dear," said her mother. "Nothing that you can understand."She would keep from her children this horror as long as she could.
At lunch in the midst of the most animated conversation the talk would die out, and all would be busy fitting their lives to war.
Like waves ever deepening in volume and increasing in force, the appalling thought of war beat upon their minds. After lunch they sat together in the screened veranda talking quietly together of the issues, the consequences to them and to their community, to their country, and to the world at large, of this thing that had befallen them. They made the amazing discovery that they were almost entirely ignorant of everything that had to do with war, even the relative military strength of the belligerent nations.
One thing like a solid back wall of rock gave them a sense of security--the British Navy was still supreme.
"Let's see, did they cut down the Navy estimates during the last Parliament? I know they were always talking of reduction,"inquired Mr. Murray.
"I am afraid I know nothing about it," said Dr. Brown. "Last week I would have told you 'I hope so'; to-day I profoundly hope not.
Jane, you ought to know about this. Jane is the war champion in our family," he added with a smile.
"No, there has been no reduction; Winston Churchill has carried on his programme. He wanted to halt the building programme, you remember, but the Germans would not agree. So I think the Navy is quite up to the mark. But, of course," she added, "the German Navy is very strong too.""Ah, I believe you are right, Jane," said Dr. Brown. "How completely we were all hoodwinked. I cannot believe that we are actually at war. Our friend Romayne was right. By the way, what about Romayne, Jane?""Who is he?" inquired Mr. Murray.
"Romayne?" said Dr. Brown. "Oh, he's a great friend of ours in the West. He married a sister of young Gwynne, you know. He was an attache of the British Embassy in Berlin, and was, as we thought, quite mad on the subject of preparation for war. He and Jane hit it off tremendously last autumn when we were visiting the Gwynnes.
Was he not an officer in the Guards or something, Jane?""Yes," replied Jane, fear leaping into her eyes. "Oh, Papa, do you think he will have to go? Surely he would not.""What? Go back to England?" said Dr. Brown. "I hardly think so.
I do not know, but perhaps he may."
"Oh, Papa!" exclaimed Jane, the quick tears in her eyes. "Think of his wife and little baby!""My God!" exclaimed Dr. Brown. "It is war that is upon us."A fresh wave of horror deeper than any before swept their souls.
"Surely he won't need to go," he said after a pause.
"But his regiment will be going," said Jane, whose face had become very pale and whose eyes were wide with horror. "His regiment will be going and," she added, "he will go too." The tears were quietly running down her face. She knew Jack Romayne and she had the courage to accept the truth which as yet her father put from his mind.
Dumb they sat, unschooled in language fitted to deal with the tides of emotion that surged round this new and overwhelming fact of war.
Where next would this dread thing strike?
"Canada will doubtless send some troops," said Dr. Brown. "We sent to South Africa, let me see, was it five thousand?""More, I think, Papa," said Jane.
"We will send twice or three times that number this time," said Mr. Murray.
And again silence fell upon them. They were each busy with the question who would go. Swiftly their minds ran over the homes of their friends and acquaintances.
"Well, Doctor," said Mr. Murray, with a great effort at a laugh, "you can't send your boy at any rate.""No," said Dr. Brown. "But if my girl had been a boy, I fear Icould not hold her. Eh, Jane?" But Jane only smiled a very doubtful smile in answer.
"We may all have to go, Doctor," said Mr. Murray. "If the war lasts long enough.""Nonsense, James," said his wife with a quick glance at her two little girls. Her boy was fifteen. Thank God, she would not have to face the question of his duty in regard to war. "They would not be taking old men like you, James," she added.
Mr. Murray laughed at her. "Well, hardly, I suppose, my dear," he replied. "I rather guess we won't be allowed to share the glory this time, Doctor."Dr. Brown sat silent for a few moments, then said quietly, "The young fellows, of course, will get the first chance.""Oh, let's not talk about it," said Ethel. "Come, Jane, let's go exploring."Jane rose.
"And me, too," cried Isabel.
"And me," cried Helen.
Ethel hesitated. "Let them come, Ethel," said Jane. "We shall go slowly."An exploration of the island was always a thing of unmixed and varied delight. There were something over twenty-five acres of wooded hills running up to bare rocks, ravines deep in shrub and ferns, and lower levels thick with underbrush and heavy timber.
Every step of the way new treasures disclosed themselves, ferns and grasses, shrubs and vines, and everywhere the wood flowers, shy and sweet. Everywhere, too, on fallen logs, on the grey rocks, and on the lower ground where the aromatic balsams and pines stood silent and thick, were mosses, mosses of all hues and depths. In the sunlit open spaces gorgeous butterflies and gleaming dragon flies fluttered and darted, bees hummed, and birds sang and twittered.
