The Lane That Had No Turning | Page 3

however, who had plenty of fearlessness where literature
was concerned, immediately bought the series for The Chap Book, long
since dead, and they were published in that wonderful little short-lived
magazine, which contained some things of permanent value to
literature. They published four of the series, namely: 'The Golden Pipes,
The Guardian of the Fire, By that Place Called Peradventure, The
Singing of the Bees, and The Tent of the Purple Mat'. In England,
because I would not separate the first five, and publish them
individually, two or three of the editors who were taking the Pierre
series and other stories appearing in this volume would not publish

them. They, also, were frightened by the mystery and allusiveness of
the tales, and had an apprehension that they would not be popular.
Perhaps they were right. They were all fantasies, but I do not wish them
other than they are. One has to write according to the impulse that
seizes one and after the fashion of one's own mind. This at least can be
said of all my books, that not a page of them has ever been written to
order, and there is not a story published in all the pages bearing my
name which does not represent one or two other stories rejected by
myself. The art of rejection is the hardest art which an author has to
learn; but I have never had a doubt as to my being justified in
publishing these little symbolic things.
Eventually the whole series was published in England. W. E. Henley
gave 'There Was a Little City' a home in 'The New Review', and
expressed himself as happy in having it. 'The Forge in the Valley' was
published by Sir Wemyss Reid in the weekly paper called 'The Speaker',
now known as 'The Nation', in which 'Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch' made
his name and helped the fame of others. 'There Was a Little City' was
published in 'The Chap Book' in the United States, but 'The Forge in
the Valley' had (I think) no American public until it appeared within the
pages of 'The Lane That Had No Turning'. The rest of the series were
published in the 'English Illustrated Magazine', which was such a good
friend to my work at the start. As was perhaps natural, there was some
criticism, but very little, in French Canada itself, upon the stories in this
volume. It soon died away, however, and almost as I write these words
there has come to me an appreciation which I value as much as
anything that has befallen me in my career, and that is, the degree of
Doctor of Letters from the French Catholic University of Laval at
Quebec. It is the seal of French Canada upon the work which I have
tried to do for her and for the whole Dominion.

THE LANE THAT HAD NO TURNING

CHAPTER I
THE RETURN OF MADELINETTE
His Excellency the Governor--the English Governor of French

Canada--was come to Pontiac, accompanied by a goodly retinue; by
private secretary, military secretary, aide-de-camp, cabinet minister,
and all that. He was making a tour of the Province, but it was obvious
that he had gone out of his way to visit Pontiac, for there were
disquieting rumours in the air concerning the loyalty of the district.
Indeed, the Governor had arrived but twenty-four hours after a meeting
had been held under the presidency of the Seigneur, at which
resolutions easily translatable into sedition were presented. The Cure
and the Avocat, arriving in the nick of time, had both spoken against
these resolutions; with the result that the new- born ardour in the minds
of the simple habitants had died down, and the Seigneur had parted
from the Cure and the Avocat in anger.
Pontiac had been involved in an illegal demonstration once before.
Valmond, the bizarre but popular Napoleonic pretender, had raised his
standard there; the stones before the parish church had been stained
with his blood; and he lay in the churchyard of St. Saviour's forgiven
and unforgotten. How was it possible for Pontiac to forget him? Had he
not left his little fortune to the parish? and had he not also left twenty
thousand francs for the musical education of Madelinette Lajeunesse,
the daughter of the village forgeron, to learn singing of the best masters
in Paris? Pontiac's wrong-doings had brought it more profit than
penalty, more praise than punishment: for, after five years in France in
the care of the Little Chemist's widow, Madelinette Lajeunesse had
become the greatest singer of her day. But what had put the severest
strain upon the modesty of Pontiac was the fact that, on the morrow of
Madelinette's first triumph in Paris, she had married M. Louis Racine,
the new Seigneur of Pontiac.
What more