The Golden Road | Page 6

poetical touches, I guess."
"There were cultivated fields between the grove and the dark blue gulf;
but far behind and on each side were woods, for Prince Edward Island a
hundred years ago was not what it is today. The settlements were few
and scattered, and the population so scanty that old Hugh Townley
boasted that he knew every man, woman and child in it.
"Old Hugh was quite a noted man in his day. He was noted for several
things--he was rich, he was hospitable, he was proud, he was
masterful--and he had for daughter the handsomest young woman in
Prince Edward Island.
"Of course, the young men were not blind to her good looks, and she
had so many lovers that all the other girls hated her--"
"You bet!" said Dan, aside--
"But the only one who found favour in her eyes was the very last man
she should have pitched her fancy on, at least if old Hugh were the
judge. Kenneth MacNair was a dark-eyed young sea-captain of the next
settlement, and it was to meet him that Ursula stole to the beechwood
on that autumn day of crisp wind and ripe sunshine. Old Hugh had
forbidden his house to the young man, making such a scene of fury
about it that even Ursula's high spirit quailed. Old Hugh had really
nothing against Kenneth himself; but years before either Kenneth or
Ursula was born, Kenneth's father had beaten Hugh Townley in a hotly
contested election. Political feeling ran high in those days, and old
Hugh had never forgiven the MacNair his victory. The feud between
the families dated from that tempest in the provincial teapot, and the
surplus of votes on the wrong side was the reason why, thirty years
after, Ursula had to meet her lover by stealth if she met him at all."
"Was the MacNair a Conservative or a Grit?" asked Felicity.
"It doesn't make any difference what he was," said the Story Girl
impatiently. "Even a Tory would be romantic a hundred years ago.

Well, Ursula couldn't see Kenneth very often, for Kenneth lived fifteen
miles away and was often absent from home in his vessel. On this
particular day it was nearly three months since they had met.
"The Sunday before, young Sandy MacNair had been in Carlyle church.
He had risen at dawn that morning, walked bare-footed for eight miles
along the shore, carrying his shoes, hired a harbour fisherman to row
him over the channel, and then walked eight miles more to the church
at Carlyle, less, it is to be feared, from a zeal for holy things than that
he might do an errand for his adored brother, Kenneth. He carried a
letter which he contrived to pass into Ursula's hand in the crowd as the
people came out. This letter asked Ursula to meet Kenneth in the
beechwood the next afternoon, and so she stole away there when
suspicious father and watchful stepmother thought she was spinning in
the granary loft."
"It was very wrong of her to deceive her parents," said Felicity primly.
The Story Girl couldn't deny this, so she evaded the ethical side of the
question skilfully.
"I am not telling you what Ursula Townley ought to have done," she
said loftily. "I am only telling you what she DID do. If you don't want
to hear it you needn't listen, of course. There wouldn't be many stories
to tell if nobody ever did anything she shouldn't do.
"Well, when Kenneth came, the meeting was just what might have been
expected between two lovers who had taken their last kiss three months
before. So it was a good half-hour before Ursula said,
"'Oh, Kenneth, I cannot stay long--I shall be missed. You said in your
letter that you had something important to talk of. What is it?'
"'My news is this, Ursula. Next Saturday morning my vessel, The Fair
Lady, with her captain on board, sails at dawn from Charlottetown
harbour, bound for Buenos Ayres. At this season this means a safe and
sure return--next May.'

"'Kenneth!' cried Ursula. She turned pale and burst into tears. 'How can
you think of leaving me? Oh, you are cruel!'
"'Why, no, sweetheart,' laughed Kenneth. 'The captain of The Fair Lady
will take his bride with him. We'll spend our honeymoon on the high
seas, Ursula, and the cold Canadian winter under southern palms.'
"'You want me to run away with you, Kenneth?' exclaimed Ursula.
"'Indeed, dear girl, there's nothing else to do!'
"'Oh, I cannot!' she protested. 'My father would--'
"'We'll not consult him--until afterward. Come, Ursula, you know
there's no other way. We've always known it must come to this. YOUR
father will never forgive me for MY father. You won't fail me now.
Think of the