CHAPTER XXII
STARGARDE’S MOTHER
A strong north wind raged like a wild beast over the peninsula on which the city of Halifax is built, driving before it a blinding snow storm. Up and down, backward and forward, the wind whipped the white flakes, till it was a difficult matter to tell whether they came from earth or sky.
Out on the harbor the wind screamed madly and flung the snowy crystals into the teeth of perplexed mariners who were trying to make their wharves, causing them to shake their heads impatiently, for the snow is a blanket for them, while fog is but a curtain.
Not many people were about the streets. A few pedestrians whose business forced them to go abroad, went with bent heads and umbrellas under their arms. The unfortunates who were driving, had somewhat the appearance of distressed birds trying to tuck their heads under their wings.
The wind shrieked and howled about square-roofed Pinewood, but none of the inmates of the house came out to be tortured by it. It hurled sheets of snow against the double windows, but the stanch glass would not yield, and the dry and powdery particles would not cling to the smooth surface, so the wind had not even the poor satisfaction of shutting out the light of day from the house.
With a sob of rage it tried to shake the sober pines. But they had stood the shock of countless winter storms and only slightly bending their stiff bodies and nodding their green heads, with loud sighs and murmurs warned the wild wind that he would find no sport with them.
Roaring wrathfully, the wind swept over the wood and under the trees of the avenue and up the long, bare road leading to the town. Here at least he would find a victim in the solitary occupant of a sleigh jogging slowly out to the Arm.
Sweeping up snow from the road, pouring down flakes from above, curling, twisting, and howling about the head of the patient quadruped, the malicious wind went; but horse and driver, though blinded, smothered, and half covered with the snowy atoms, stood the onset firmly. The driver did not even pull up his horse, but kept moving on slowly as before.
The wind in a last burst of fury swept out to sea. There at least he could do some damage.
The man in the sleigh laughed to himself and put up his head a little way from his high, fur collar to look about him. One glance was enough. He drew back his head and said quietly, “Get on, Polypharmacy; you know where we’re going. Sun or rain, wind or calm, it’s all one to us.”