Four Winds Page #12

"Four Winds" by Lucy Maud Montgomery is a touching collection of stories that explore themes of love, nature, and the human experience. Set against the backdrop of the Canadian landscape, Montgomery's prose beautifully captures the joys and struggles of her characters, often reflecting on the passage of time and the impact of the seasons. With her signature lyrical style, the author weaves tales that evoke emotion and contemplation, inviting readers to appreciate the nuances of life’s journey. Each story highlights the connection between individuals and the world around them, making it a poignant read for fans of Montgomery's evocative storytelling.

• Short story

								

rescued. The latter was unconscious and, as Alan bent over him, he
heard Lynde give a choking little cry.

"He is living still," said Alan. "We must get him up to the house as
soon as possible. How shall we manage it?"

"Lynde and I can go and bring the Captain's mattress down," said
Emily. Now that Alan was safe she was eager to do all she could. "Then
you and I can carry him up to the house."

"That will be best," said Alan. "Go quickly."

He did not look at Lynde or he would have been shocked by the agony on
her face. She cast one glance at the prostrate man and followed Emily.
In a short time they returned with the mattress, and Alan and Emily
carried the sailor on it to Four Winds. Lynde walked behind them,
seemingly unconscious of both. She watched the stranger's face as one
fascinated.

At Four Winds they carried the man to a room where Emily and Alan
worked over him, while Lynde heated water and hunted out stimulants in
a mechanical fashion. When Alan came down she asked no questions but
looked at him with the same strained horror on her face which it had
borne ever since Alan had dropped his burden at her feet.

"Is he--conscious?" asked Lynde, as if she forced herself to ask the
question.

"Yes, he has come back to life. But he is delirious and doesn't
realize his surroundings at all. He thinks he is still on board the
vessel. He'll probably come round all right. Emily is going to watch
him and I'll go up to Rexton and send Dr. Ames down."

"Do you know who that man you have saved is?" asked Lynde.

"No. I asked him his name but could not get any sensible answer."

"I can tell you who he is--he is Frank Harmon."

Alan stared at her. "Frank Harmon. Your--your--the man you married?
Impossible!"

"It is he. Do you think I could be mistaken?"

       *       *       *       *       *

Dr. Ames came to Four Winds that night and again the next day. He
found Harmon delirious in a high fever.

"It will be several days before he comes to his senses," he said.
"Shall I send you help to nurse him?"

"It isn't necessary," said Emily stiffly. "I can look after him--and
the Captain ought to be back tomorrow."

"You've no idea who he is, I suppose?" asked the doctor.

"No." Emily was quite sincere. Lynde had not told her, and Emily did
not recognize him.

"Well, Mr. Douglas did a brave thing in rescuing him," said Dr. Ames.
"I'll be back tomorrow."

Harmon remained delirious for a week. Alan went every day to Four
Winds, his interest in a man he had rescued explaining his visits to
the Rexton people. The Captain had returned and, though not absolutely
uncivil, was taciturn and moody. Alan reflected grimly that Captain
Anthony probably owed him a grudge for saving Harmon's life. He never
saw Lynde alone, but her strained, tortured face made his heart ache.
Old Emily only seemed her natural self. She waited on Harmon and Dr.
Ames considered her a paragon of a nurse. Alan thought it was well
that Emily knew nothing more of Harmon than that he was an old friend
of Captain Anthony's. He felt sure that she would have walked out of
the sick room and never reentered it had she guessed that the patient
was the man whom, above all others, Lynde dreaded and feared.

One afternoon when Alan went to Four Winds Emily met him at the door.

"He's better," she announced. "He had a good sleep this afternoon and
when he woke he was quite himself. You'd better go up and see him. I
told him all I could but he wants to see you. Anthony and Lynde are
away to Crosse Harbour. Go up and talk to him."

Harmon turned his head as the minister approached and held out his
hand with a smile.

"You're the preacher, I reckon. They tell me you were the man who
pulled me out of that hurly-burly. I wasn't hardly worth saving but
I'm as grateful to you as if I was."

"I only--did--what any man would have done," said Alan, taking the
offered hand.

"I don't know about that. Anyhow, it's not every man could have done
it. I'd been hanging in that rigging all day and most of the night
before. There were five more of us but they dropped off. I knew it was
no use to try to swim ashore alone--the backwater would be too much
for me. I must have been a lot of trouble. That old woman says I've
been raving for a week. And, by the way I feel, I fancy I'll be
stretched out here another week before I'll be able to use my pins.
Who are these Olivers anyhow? The old woman wouldn't talk about the
family."

"Don't you know them?" asked Alan in astonishment. "Isn't your name
Harmon?"

"That's right--Harmon--Alfred Harmon, first mate of the schooner,
Annie M."

"Alfred! I thought your name was Frank!"

"Frank was my twin brother. We were so much alike our own mammy
couldn't tell us apart. Did you know Frank?"

"No. This family did. Miss Oliver thought you were Frank when she saw
you."

"I don't feel much like myself but I'm not Frank anyway. He's dead,
poor chap--got shot in a spat with Chinese pirates three years ago."

"Dead! Man, are you speaking the truth? Are you certain?"

"Pop sure. His mate told me the whole story. Say, preacher, what's the
matter? You look as if you were going to keel over."

Alan hastily drank a glass of water.

"I--I am all right now. I haven't been feeling well of late."

"Guess you didn't do yourself any good going out into that freezing
water and dragging me in."

"I shall thank God every day of my life that I did do it," said Alan
gravely, new light in his eyes, as Emily entered the room. "Miss
Oliver, when will the Captain and Lynde be back?"

"They said they would be home by four."

She looked at Alan curiously.

"I will go and meet her," he said quickly.

He came upon Lynde, sitting on a grey boulder under the shadow of an
overhanging fir coppice, with her dogs beside her.

She turned her head indifferently as Alan's footsteps sounded on the
pebbles, and then stood slowly up.

"Are you looking for me?" she asked.

"I have some news for you, Lynde," Alan said.

"Has he--has he come to himself?" she whispered.

"Yes, he has come to himself. Lynde, he is not Frank Harmon--he is his
twin brother. He says Frank Harmon was killed three years ago in the
China seas."

For a moment Lynde's great grey eyes stared into Alan's, questioning.
Then, as the truth seized on her comprehension, she sat down on the
boulder and put her hands over her face without a word. Alan walked
down to the water's edge to give her time to recover herself. When he
came back he took her hands and said quietly, "Lynde, do you realize
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