Four Winds Page #5

"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

								

shore, which rapidly grew steep and high. Half a mile down the cliffs
were rocky and precipitous, while the beach beneath them was heaped
with huge boulders. Alan followed the dog along one of the narrow
paths with which the barrens abounded until nearly a mile from Four
Winds. Then the animal halted, ran to the edge of the cliff and
barked.

It was an ugly-looking place where a portion of the soil had evidently
broken away recently, and Alan stepped cautiously out to the brink and
looked down. He could not repress an exclamation of dismay and alarm.

A few feet below him Lynde Oliver was lying on a mass of mossy soil
which was apparently on the verge of slipping over a sloping shelf of
rock, below which was a sheer drop of thirty feet to the cruel
boulders below. The extreme danger of her position was manifest at a
glance; the soil on which she lay was stationary, yet it seemed as if
the slightest motion on her part would send it over the brink.

Lynde lay movelessly; her face was white, and both fear and appeal
were visible in her large dilated eyes. Yet she was quite calm and a
faint smile crossed her pale lips as she saw the man and the dog.

"Good faithful Pat, so you did bring help," she said.

"But how can I help you, Miss Oliver?" said Alan hoarsely. "I cannot
reach you--and it looks as if the slightest touch or jar would send
that broken earth over the brink."

"I fear it would. You must go back to Four Winds and get a rope."

"And leave you here alone--in such danger?"

"Pat will stay with me. Besides, there is nothing else to do. You will
find a rope in that little house where you put the water for Emily.
Father and Emily are away. I think I am quite safe here if I don't
move at all."

Alan's own common sense told him that, as she said, there was nothing
else to do and, much as he hated to leave her alone thus, he realized
that he must lose no time in doing it.

"I'll be back as quickly as possible," he said hurriedly.

Alan had been a noted runner at college and his muscles had not
forgotten their old training. Yet it seemed to him an age ere he
reached Four Winds, secured the rope, and returned. At every flying
step he was haunted by the thought of the girl lying on the brink of
the precipice and the fear that she might slip over it before he could
rescue her. When he reached the scene of the accident he dreaded to
look over the broken edge, but she was lying there safely and she
smiled when she saw him--a brave smile that softened her tense white
face into the likeness of a frightened child's.

"If I drop the rope down to you, are you strong enough to hold to it
while the earth goes and then draw yourself up the slope hand over
hand?" asked Alan anxiously.

"Yes," she answered fearlessly.

Alan passed down one end of the rope and then braced himself firmly to
hold it, for there was no tree near enough to be of any assistance.
The next moment the full weight of her body swung from it, for at her
first movement the soil beneath her slipped away. Alan's heart
sickened; what if she went with it? Could she cling to the rope while
he drew her up?

Then he saw she was still safe on the sloping shelf. Carefully and
painfully she drew herself to her knees and, dinging to the rope,
crept up the rock hand over hand. When she came within his reach he
grasped her arms and lifted her up into safety beside him.

"Thank God," he said, with whiter lips than her own.

For a few moments Lynde sat silent on the sod, exhausted with fright
and exertion, while her dog fawned on her in an ecstasy of joy.
Finally she looked up into Alan's anxious face and their eyes met. It
was something more than the physical reaction that suddenly flushed
the girl's cheeks. She sprang lithely to her feet.

"Can you walk back home?" Alan asked.

"Oh, yes, I am all right now. It was very foolish of me to get into
such a predicament. Father and Emily went down the lake in the yacht
this afternoon and I started out for a ramble. When I came here I saw
some junebells growing right out on the ledge and I crept out to
gather them. I should have known better. It broke away under me and
the more I tried to scramble back the faster it slid down, carrying me
with it. I thought it would go right over the brink"--she gave a
little involuntary shudder--"but just at the very edge it stopped. I
knew I must lie very still or it would go right over. It seemed like
days. Pat was with me and I told him to go for help, but I knew there
was no one at home--and I was horribly afraid," she concluded with
another shiver. "I never was afraid in my life before--at least not
with that kind of fear."

"You have had a terrible experience and a narrow escape," said Alan
lamely. He could think of nothing more to say; his usual readiness of
utterance seemed to have failed him.

"You saved my life," she said, "you and Pat--for doggie must have his
share of credit."

"A much larger share than mine," said Alan, smiling. "If Pat had not
come for me, I would not have known of your danger. What a magnificent
fellow he is!"

"Isn't he?" she agreed proudly. "And so is Laddie, my other dog. He
went with Father today. I love my dogs more than people." She looked
at him with a little defiance in her eyes. "I suppose you think that
terrible."

"I think many dogs are much more lovable--and worthy of love--than
many people," said Alan, laughing.

How childlike she was in some ways! That trace of defiance--it was so
like a child who expected to be scolded for some wrong attitude of
mind. And yet there were moments when she looked the tall proud queen.
Sometimes, when the path grew narrow, she walked before him, her hand
on the dog's head. Alan liked this, since it left him free to watch
admiringly the swinging grace of her step and the white curves of her
neck beneath the thick braid of hair, which today was wound about her
head. When she dropped back beside him in the wider spaces, he could
only have stolen glances at her profile, delicately, strongly cut,
virginal in its soft curves, childlike in its purity. Once she looked
around and caught his glance; again she flushed, and something strange
and exultant stirred in Alan's heart. It was as if that maiden blush
were the involuntary, unconscious admission of some power he had over
her--a power which her hitherto unfettered spirit had never before
felt. The cold indifference he had seen in her face at their first
meeting was gone, and something told him it was gone forever.

When they came in sight of Four Winds they saw two people walking up
the road from the harbour and a few further steps brought them face to
face with Captain Anthony Oliver and his old housekeeper.

The Captain's appearance was a fresh surprise to Alan. He had expected
to meet a rough, burly sailor, loud of voice and forbidding of manner.
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