A new life was now opened up to Nance. She was growing fast, not only in body, but in mind as well. The books had admitted her into a world of wonder of which she had never before dreamed. They were only a few to be sure, but she knew them almost by heart. Her music, too, gave her much delight, and Martin was astonished at the rapid progress she made. The next year more books arrived, with some sheet-music as well, and thus Nance's mind was fed upon new delights. Then, one Christmas morning, when she opened her eyes, she found at the foot of the Christmas tree a fine new violin—her very own. She did not know how much the instrument had cost, nor the effort which had been made to obtain it. Her cup of joy was now overflowing. Martin, too, was happy as he watched Nance. Her eyes sparkled with animation, and her face beamed with happiness as she drew the bow deftly across the strings.
That she was developing into a beautiful maiden he was well aware. She was growing fast, with a figure lithe and graceful. Her dark eyes reflected as in a clear spring the various moods of her nature. They twinkled with fun, and danced with delight. Often they grew sad and thoughtful, and at times they were soft with the light of love. Hers was an affectionate nature, which was revealed more and more as the years passed. To her Martin was all in all, and as her mind expanded she saw the difference between him and the Indians. The latter were very dear to her, especially Quabee. But the native women could not understand the deep longings hidden within her bosom. She knew that Martin could, and to him she talked.
Nance often wondered what the great world was like beyond the mountains, about which she had read so much in the books. Why were she and Martin living away in the wilderness among the Indians? she asked herself many a time. Martin often noticed the far-away expression in her eyes, and partly surmised the cause. It gave him considerable uneasiness. He was afraid lest Nance should become dissatisfied and wish to go to the places of which he had so often told her. He had expected this, and had even looked forward to the day when they would leave their forest home. But now when the time seemed to be drawing near he shrank more and more from the idea.
Although Nance had just entered her teens when these thoughts came to Martin, yet he realised that every year would make the life more unbearable to her. She was longing for some white girl to play with. The Indian children, notwithstanding the teaching they had received from Martin, did not suit her as companions. She seldom cared to play with them, preferring to be by herself or with Martin.
During the summer Nance lived mostly in the open. When not roaming along the river gathering wild flowers, which grew in such abundance, she was out upon the lake with Martin. What life could be more congenial than that spent in God's Great Open. Yet in the maiden's heart there was a longing for other things. She wished to know more of the world beyond the mountains, and to mingle with the people of whom she had heard so much from Martin and read about in the books. She often pictured to herself what it would be like, how she should act, and what people would think of her. At such times she always thought of Beryl, and tried to imagine what she would do and say. Such an influence was by no means without its effect, and Martin often marvelled how Nance acquired such a quiet and graceful manner, never having seen a white woman, except her mother, whom she did not even remember. He did not know that the silent daily worship of an ideal woman was working the transformation. Everything he had told her about Beryl had been thought over so continually that the very character of the woman of beauty, refinement and nobleness had become indelibly impressed upon the maiden's plastic nature.
Thus, while Nance was living in her enchanted world of fancy, Martin was brooding deeply over more serious things. Of his burden, which grew all the heavier as the years passed, he could in no way lighten it by speaking of it to Nance. He had to bear it alone, no matter how crushing it might become.
CHAPTER XII
THE EDGE OF EVENTS
It was a night of wind and storm in the Quaska valley. It had been snowing all day, and a fierce wind was driving down the river. As long as daylight lasted Nance had stood by the window, looking out towards the lake. The mountains were all hidden from view, and nothing could she see but the snow which swirled and raved around the house. It was the last of January, and all through the winter Nance had been thinking seriously of that life beyond the mountains which was drawing her with irresistible, invisible cords. She was not a child now, but a young woman of seventeen, tall and graceful.