Ungava | Page 7

unable to bring
themselves to part with her, they resolved to have a choice selection of
books sent out to them. Jessie's mother was a clever, accomplished, and
lady-like woman, and decidedly pious, so that the little flower, which
was indeed born to blush unseen, grew up to be a gentle, affectionate
woman--one who was a lady in all her thoughts and actions, yet had
never seen polite society, save that of her father and mother. In process
of time Jessie became Mrs Stanley, and the mother of a little girl whose
voice was, at the time her father entered, ringing cheerfully in an
adjoining room. Mrs Stanley's nature was an earnest one, and she no
sooner observed that her husband was worried about something, than
she instantly dropped the light tone in which she at first addressed him.
"And what perplexes you now, dear George?" she said, laying down
her work and looking up in his face with that straightforward, earnest
gaze that in days of yore had set the stout backwoodsman's heart on fire,
and still kept it in a perennial blaze.

"Nothing very serious," he replied with a smile; "only these fellows
have taken it into their stupid heads that Ungava is worse than the land
beyond the Styx; and so, after the tough battle that I had with you this
morning in order to prevail on you to remain here for a winter without
me, I've had to fight another battle with them in order to get them to go
on this expedition."
"Have you been victorious?" inquired Mrs Stanley.
"No, not yet."
"Do you really mean to say they are afraid to go? Has Prince refused?
are Francois, Gaspard, and Massan cowards?" she inquired, her eye
kindling with indignation.
"Nay, my wife, not so. These men are not cowards; nevertheless they
don't feel inclined to go; and as for Dick Prince, he has been off
hunting for a week, and I don't expect him back for three weeks at least,
by which time we shall be off."
Mrs Stanley sighed, as if she felt the utter helplessness of woman in
such affairs.
"Why, Jessie, that's what you used to say to me when you were at a loss
for words in the days of our courtship," said Stanley, smiling.
"Ah, George, like you I may say that the cause is now perplexity; for
what can I do to help you in your present difficulty?"
"Truly not much. But I like to tell you of my troubles, and to make
more of them than they deserve, for the sake of drawing forth your
sympathy. Bless your heart!" he said, in a sudden burst of enthusiasm,
"I would gladly undergo any amount of trouble every day, if by so
doing I should secure that earnest, loving, anxious gaze of your sweet
blue eyes as a reward!" Stanley imprinted a hearty kiss on his wife's
cheek as he made this lover-like speech, and then rose to place his
fowling-piece on the pegs from which it usually hung over the
fireplace.

At that moment the door opened, and a little girl, with bright eyes and
flaxen hair, bounded into the room.
"O mamma, mamma!" she said, holding up a sheet of paper, while a
look of intense satisfaction beamed on her animated countenance, "see,
I have drawn Chimo's portrait. Is it like, mamma? Do you think it
like?"
"Come here, Eda, my darling, come to me," said Stanley, seating
himself on a chair and extending his arms. Edith instantly left the
portrait of the dog in her mother's possession, and, without waiting for
an opinion as to its merits, ran to her father, jumped on his knee, threw
her arms round his neck, and kissed him. Edith was by no means a
beautiful child, but miserable indeed must have been the taste of him
who would have pronounced her plain-looking. Her features were not
regular; her nose had a strong tendency to what is called snubbed, and
her mouth was large; but to counterbalance these defects she had a pair
of large, deep-blue eyes, soft, golden hair, a fair, rosy complexion, and
an expression of sweetness at the corners of her mouth that betrayed
habitual good-nature. She was quick in all her movements, combined
with a peculiar softness and grace of deportment that was exceedingly
attractive.
"Would you like to go, my pet," said her father, "to a country far, far
away in the north, where there are high mountains and deep valleys,
inhabited by beautiful reindeer, and large lakes and rivers filled with
fish; where there is very little daylight all the long winter, and where
there is scarcely any night all the long, bright summer? Would my Eda
like to go there?"
The child possessed that fascinating quality of