FullReads

“I wonder what Bruce will be like,” said Avery. “It is eight years since he went home to Scotland. He was sixteen then–he will be twenty-four now. He went away a boy–he will come back a man.”

“I don’t remember much about him,” said Janet. “I was only nine when he went away. He used to tease me–I do remember that.” There was a little resentment in her voice. Janet had never liked being teased. Avery laughed.

“You were so touchy, Janet. Touchy people always get teased. Bruce was very handsome–and as nice as he was handsome. Those two years he was here were the nicest, gayest time I ever had. I wish he had stayed in Canada. But of course he wouldn’t do that. His father was a rich man and Bruce was ambitious. Oh, Janet, I wish I could live in the old land. That would be life.”

Janet had heard all this before and could not understand it. She had no hankering for either Scotland or England. She loved the new land and its wild, virgin beauty. She yearned to the future, never to the past.

“I’m tired of Burnley Beach,” Avery went on passionately, shaking apples wildly off a laden bough by way of emphasis. “I know all the people–what they are–what they can be. It’s like reading a book for the twentieth time. I know where I was born and who I’ll marry–and where I’ll be buried. That’s knowing too much. All my days will be alike when I marry Randall. There will never be anything unexpected or surprising about them. I tell you Janet,” Avery seized another bough and shook it with a vengeance, “I hate the very thought of it.”

“The thought of–what?” said Janet in bewilderment.

“Of marrying Randall Burnley–or marrying anybody down here–and settling down on a farm for life.”

Then Avery sat down on the rung of her ladder and laughed at Janet’s face.

“You look stunned, Janet. Did you really think I wanted to marry Randall?”

Janet was stunned, and she did think that. How could any girl not want to marry Randall Burnley if she had the chance?

“Don’t you love him?” she asked stupidly.

Avery bit into a nut-sweet apple.

“No,” she said frankly. “Oh, I don’t hate him, of course. I like him well enough. I like him very well. But we’ll quarrel all our lives.”

“Then what are you marrying him for?” asked Janet.

“Why, I’m getting on–twenty-two–all the girls of my age are married already. I won’t be an old maid, and there’s nobody but Randall. Nobody good enough for a Sparhallow, that is. You wouldn’t want me to marry Ned Adams or John Buchanan, would you?”

“No,” said Janet, who had her full share of the Sparhallow pride.

“Well, then, of course I must marry Randall. That’s settled and there’s no use making faces over the notion. I’m not making faces, but I’m tired of hearing you talk as if you thought I adored him and must be in the seventh heaven because I was going to marry him, you romantic child.”

“Does Randall know you feel like this?” asked Janet in a low tone.

“No. Randall is like all men–vain and self-satisfied–and believes I’m crazy about him. It’s just as well to let him think so, until we’re safely married anyhow. Randall has some romantic notions too, and I’m not sure that he’d marry me if he knew, in spite of his three years’ devotion. And I have no intention of being jilted three weeks before my wedding day.”

Avery laughed again, and tossed away the core of her apple.

Janet, who had been very pale, went crimson and lovely. She could not endure hearing Randall criticized. “Vain and self-satisfied”–when there was never a man less so! She was horrified to feel that she almost hated Avery–Avery who did not love Randall.

“What a pity Randall didn’t take a fancy to you instead of me, Janet,” said Avery teasingly. “Wouldn’t you like to marry him, Janet? Wouldn’t you now?”