When they had surveyed the city, the river, and the country on the opposite shore, they prepared to ascend to the highest part of the mountain, where the observatory stands, imbedded in trees. Here they sat down for a time to rest, and partake of some light refreshment which they had brought with them; they then proceeded to descend on the other side, passing through the Protestant and Catholic cemeteries, both elaborately laid out, and looking like beautiful flower gardens, rather than burial grounds. As they neared Côte des Neiges Miss Cuthbert commenced to scamper along like a child, and at one short declivity, she started off at a run, calling on the others to follow. Clarkson took his companion’s hand and invited her to descend in like manner, but, almost at the first step, his sister-in-law uttered a sharp scream and fell forward on the grass, informing them that her foot had turned under her, and that she had sprained her ankle.
William was almost beside himself. He felt that he had foolishly induced her to forget herself so far as to indulge in a wild romp and thus injure her ankle. He wished Miss Cuthbert at the bottom of the sea, and wondered how they were to get the beautiful cripple home, as they were removed from residences or conveyances of any kind, and Mrs. Clarkson was no small weight. There being nothing else for it, however, the sturdy farmer lifted her in his arms and carried her to the house of the caretaker of the cemetery; then, leaving her gently on a sofa, he started for the inn at Côte des Neiges, thinking he might obtain the means of conveyance to Montreal.
On his arrival at the inn he was informed that there was no livery stable of any kind for miles around, and that the private buggy of the proprietor was at the moment in Montreal, whither the landlady had driven for provisions. Just then a team was driven at a rapid speed from the direction of St. Laurent; it contained two young gentlemen from Montreal, who had driven round the mountain attended by a groom. On hearing the particulars of the accident they at once, with great gallantry, gave up their vehicle, a mail phaeton, for the use of the disabled lady, cheerfully undertaking to walk the remainder of the way (about four miles), and enjoining Mr. Clarkson to bring the carriage to their stable so soon as he had deposited his fair companions in a place of safety.
On reaching the cemetery, William found the widow looking wretched, indeed, and apparently suffering great pain. Her face brightened, however, as she saw the carriage and was convinced that they would be able to get to Montreal in time for the night train for Sherbrooke. William assisted Miss Cuthbert into the trap, and placed Mrs. Clarkson carefully beside her; then, mounting the box, he thanked the caretaker for his kind offices and drove, via Côte des Neiges hill, to Montreal. He suggested to Mrs. Clarkson that it would be better for her to take a room at the St. Lawrence Hall for a few days, and enjoy perfect rest till her ankle got better, but she, remembering her past experiences, preferred to travel at once to her home, and so avoid all scandal.
William drove straight to the Grand Trunk terminus in St. Bonaventure street; and, placing the ladies in a Pullman car, drove up to Sherbrooke street with the team, which he left, as directed, at the young gentleman’s residence. He proceeded along to St. Lawrence Main street, where he hailed a cab, and drove back to the terminus. Shortly after his return to the depot the train started, and in a few hours they reached Sherbrooke.
It was considerably past midnight when they got to Mrs. Clarkson’s residence, so Miss Cuthbert remained with her till morning, doing all she could to alleviate her pain. Shortly after breakfast William called; and as his sister-in-law was confined to her room, he considerately kept her company till Miss Cuthbert had gone home and obtained permission to remain a while longer with the disabled lady. There is nothing that tries a man’s heart so much as to see a woman (particularly a beautiful woman) in pain. The widow was aware of this, and so, although the sprain was purely accidental, and was not included in her programme, turned it to such good account that the poor bachelor was fairly hooked, and began to think seriously that he had got into an awkward fix.
Marriage with a deceased brother’s wife was illegal, and no clergyman could perform the marriage ceremony without violating the laws of both Church and State; even if one could be prevailed on to follow the dictates of his conscience, and to stretch a point in their favor (as was sometimes done) society would not recognize their union, and would shun them as open adulterers. In vain did his sister-in-law urge on him that the law was absurd, and that, as there was no blood-relationship between them, there could be nothing criminal in their living together; he had not the moral courage to face the cold criticism of a narrow-minded and bigoted community, and, though mad with passionate love, he hesitated to take the fatal plunge.
Mrs. Clarkson, however, having carried the outposts and principal barriers successfully, was not to be thwarted by a mere matter of sentiment. She expressed her intention of departing forthwith for Detroit, assuring him that she would no longer remain in a country where such intolerant bigotry existed, and instructed him, if he loved her as he pretended, to sell his property in Canada and follow her thither.
Clarkson was loth to leave his relations and the home of his childhood, but the temptress lured him gradually on, refusing at times even to see a man who valued his narrow-minded friends’ opinion rather than her love, and at length he consented to sell his farm for whatever it would bring, and to rejoin her in Detroit. This was another piece of generalship on the part of the widow, as, did they remain in Canada, she could not, in the event of her husband’s death hold the property which would revert to her hated sister-in-law; but that being now converted into cash she was at liberty to squander it during her husband’s life-time, retaining the fortune left by her first husband for the future use of herself and children.
For a time Mr. Clarkson lived with his sister-in-law in a princely style in Detroit. They entertained largely and handsomely, and most of their guests neither cared nor enquired who they were, or whence they came. They had not been there more than six weeks when Mrs. Clarkson made the acquaintance of Count Von Alba, who for some time had been the lion of fashionable circles in Detroit. Von Alba was a Russian, who (for political reasons said his friends, for criminal reasons said his enemies) had emigrated to America and lived on his fortune (his friends insisted)—his wits, said his enemies again.