Leonard Harling was active, honest, and hard-working, but he had no initiative, push, or self-assertion, and he had never risen beyond the grade of manual labour, until he came across Lizzie Aitken. Within twenty miles of where he worked, a flourishing town was holding a week’s festivities. There were to be dances, cricket, and sports, and for this Leonard and two young men, his mates, took a whole holiday. As an accomplished athlete, the handsome, well-knit young Englishman carried off the most coveted prizes—the one-mile race, hurdle race, and high jump—all fell to Leonard Harling! He wore his school colours, and made an attractive figure in his jersey, shorts, and shoes—relics of old Harrow days, which he had clung to, whatever his difficulties. This graceful, dark-eyed stranger was watched with unusual interest by all the young women present.
Among these was Lizzie Aitken—the beauty and heiress of Tolputt. Her father, the son of a Scotch shepherd, had come out to Canada, a canny hard-bitten laddie, and steadily worked his way up rung by rung; he was now rich, and the mayor of the town, and his only child Lizzie, a pretty red-haired lassie, was the apple of his eye. She had received a fair education, could dance, embroider, play the piano, and cook; and it was his intention that, with her fine dowry, Lizzie should make a really splendid match—aye, and keep her carriage and servants, and live in style.
Lizzie became acquainted with young Harling at a ball. He wore, beside his recent laurels, an air of distinction—a romantic glamour surrounded this good-looking English visitor.
In comparison to the local swains, he had an assured ease, a charming manner—he might be a prince in disguise. Lizzie invited him to her home, where, appearances being in his favour, he was well received by her parent, and a week passed like a summer day. The love affair blazed up between the young people, but was ruthlessly quenched by old Aitken when he discovered that “the Prince,” as he was nicknamed, was only the hired help of Job Mackay, the blacksmith over by Lomax.
In spite of enormous difficulties, the couple corresponded, met, and finally eloped. They went out West, and for the first year their lines were laid in thorny places; but by dint of courage and industry they managed to hold out and make a living.
Lizzie, who was practical, clever, and energetic, remembered words of wisdom which had fallen from her father’s lips, respecting their retreat.
“A great future awaits Saint Largo in a few years time, though it’s a miserable hole now. It will be a golden city; it has a lake, and wonderful possibilities for trade; when it gets the railway it is made!”
With this prophecy ever in her mind, Lizzie Harling took hold. She started a sort of cheap restaurant in her rough and draughty shack, and as she was a born cook, and a thrifty manager, the “hotel” paid. Besides the hotel, she undertook the post-office, and the business of newsagent to the community. Everyone agreed that “Missis Harling” was “real smart,” and Leonard, her husband, realised that if he had no fortune with his Lizzie, she represented a priceless treasure. For his part he set up a smithy, and kept a good team of horses, which he hired out for freight and farm work—and presently the Harlings began to prosper. The one cloud on their happiness was the loss of two small children—an empty cradle represented their tragedy.
As time advanced, all the hard-earned numerous dollars were invested in land in and around Saint Largo, and when at last the railway came, it brought them fortune. The Harlings no longer occupied a shack; Leonard had built his wife a fine solid brick house; the furniture hailed from Toronto, and included a piano and cheval glass. He urged her to spend money, to buy smart clothes and jewellery, and enjoy life “like other women.” But she laughed, and protested at his extravagance, and said:
“I’ve got out of the way of shopping. The greatest pleasure I really enjoy is sitting hand-idle in my rocker, listening to the hired girl washing up the dishes and saucepans, which was my own job for twelve years.”