He recaptured his walking from Harper’s to the bridge when he first arrived. Flowers dotted the prairie, the sun was hot, and although he knew himself a stranger, his hopes were high. The trail, like a dark riband, curved in front and he steered joyously for the horizon.
Now the sky was dark, the day was bleak, and he did not know where he went. He ought to marry Evelyn, but he loved Alison. Moreover, Alison knew he loved her and since she knew about Evelyn she had cause to think him a philandering wastrel. Anyhow, if Alison did not, Evelyn was entitled to do so.
Well, he must take one of two lines, and he frankly hesitated. For him to pay for his folly was just, but it looked as if another must pay. Evelyn’s letters were cold and carried a hint of resentment. If she knew he had gone to the workshops sooner than take his friend’s post, she would be annoyed; Alison knew and approved. Yet although he wanted Alison, his duty was to marry Evelyn. In the meantime he must see Alison; it was all he really knew.
At length the roofs at Harper’s broke the snowy plain, and Kit saw freight-cars on the side-track. The locomotive faced west and he knew the rail train had gone, but he hoped Mrs. Austin would wait for the passenger-cars and her party was yet at the hotel. When he inquired at the office the landlord said they had started east soon after the plow arrived, and gave Kit a note.
Kit knew Alison’s hand, and he went to the stove in the dining-room, but when he tore open the envelope his hand shook. Then he set his mouth, for Alison firmly pointed the proper line.
“There is no use in pretending, Kit,” she wrote. “At the shack I was willing for you to know I loved you. You see, my dear, I did not believe help would reach us; I thought we soon would freeze. In the numbing cold, when hope was gone, all I wanted was to have you near me.
“Well, it’s done with, and when Florence said you were coming to Harper’s I saw I must steal away. You must not cheat, Kit; and if, for my sake, you broke your word I would be ashamed. I would hate to feel I’d stolen another’s lover. You must do all you engaged to do, and I will wish you luck. Perhaps my letter’s cold, but I must use control and you will not get another. When you arrive I shall be at Winnipeg and soon afterwards on board the ship. Good-bye, Kit. Go straight—the way you like to go—and look in front. By and by the road will get easy.”
Kit put the letter in the stove. All was done with, for Alison was proud and firm, but when the paper flared and blackened he clenched his fist.
For a time he was very quiet; and then he heard a locomotive whistle and he went to the track. The freight train was pulling out, the men had put the trolley on a flat car, and Kit jumped for the caboose. He dared not think about Alison and he tried to look in front. To begin with he must build the tank, and then, if all went well, he would claim Evelyn. In the meantime he would say nothing; until his work was tested he must not boast.
The blizzard was winter’s last belated fury. The snow melted in the hot sun and the bleached grass got green. Sandhill cranes trailed across the sky, and ducks and geese steering north stopped to rest by the prairie sloos. Kit moodily concentrated on his building. To be occupied was some relief and the tank grew fast.