The Touch of Fate

by Lucy Maud Montgomery is a poignant exploration of love, destiny, and the intertwining of human lives. Set against the backdrop of the picturesque landscapes of Prince Edward Island, the story follows the protagonist as she navigates the complexities of relationships and the choices that shape her fate. With Montgomery's characteristic warmth and insight into human emotions, the narrative delves into themes of longing, serendipity, and the power of hope, ultimately revealing how fate can lead individuals to unexpected and transformative paths.

• Short story

								
Mrs. Major Hill was in her element. This did not often happen, for in
the remote prairie town of the Canadian Northwest, where her husband
was stationed, there were few opportunities for match-making. And Mrs.
Hill was--or believed herself to be--a born matchmaker.

Major Hill was in command of the detachment of Northwest Mounted
Police at Dufferin Bluff. Mrs. Hill was wont to declare that it was
the most forsaken place to be found in Canada or out of it; but she
did her very best to brighten it up, and it is only fair to say that
the N.W.M.P., officers and men, seconded her efforts.

When Violet Thayer came west to pay a long-promised visit to her old
schoolfellow, Mrs. Hill's cup of happiness bubbled over. In her secret
soul she vowed that Violet should never go back east unless it were
post-haste to prepare a wedding trousseau. There were at least half a
dozen eligibles among the M.P.s, and Mrs. Hill, after some reflection,
settled on Ned Madison as the flower of the flock.

"He and Violet are simply made for each other," she told Major Hill
the evening before Miss Thayer's arrival. "He has enough money and he
is handsome and fascinating. And Violet is a beauty and a clever woman
into the bargain. They can't help falling in love, I'm sure; it's
fate!"

"Perhaps Miss Thayer may be booked elsewhere already," suggested Major
Hill. He had seen more than one of his wife's card castles fall into
heartbreaking ruin.

"Oh, no; Violet would have told me if that were the case. It's really
quite time for her to think of settling down. She is twenty-five, you
know. The men all go crazy over her, but she's dreadfully hard to
please. However, she can't help liking Ned. He hasn't a single fault.
I firmly believe it is foreordained."

And in this belief Mrs. Hill rested securely, but nevertheless did not
fail to concoct several feminine artifices for the helping on of
foreordination. It was a working belief with her that it was always
well to have the gods in your debt.

Violet Thayer came, saw, and conquered. Within thirty-six hours of her
arrival at Dufferin Bluff she had every one of the half-dozen
eligibles at her feet, not to mention a score or more ineligibles. She
would have been surprised indeed had it been otherwise. Miss Thayer
knew her power, and was somewhat unduly fond of exercising it. But she
was a very nice girl into the bargain, and so thought one and all of
the young men who frequented Mrs. Hill's drawing-room and counted it
richly worth while merely to look at Miss Thayer after having seen
nothing for weeks except flabby half-breed girls and blue-haired
squaws.

Madison was foremost in the field, of course. Madison was really a
nice fellow, and quite deserved all Mrs. Hill's encomiums. He was
good-looking and well groomed--could sing and dance divinely and play
the violin to perfection. The other M.P.s were all jealous of him, and
more so than ever when Violet Thayer came. They did not consider that
any one of them had the ghost of a chance if Madison entered the lists
against them.

Violet liked Madison, and was very chummy with him after her own
fashion. She thought all the M.P.s were nice boys, and they amused
her, for which she was grateful. She had expected Dufferin Bluff to be
very dull, and doubtless it would pall after a time, but for a change
it was delightful.

The sixth evening after her arrival found Mrs. Hill's room crowded, as
usual, with M.P.s. Violet was looking her best in a distracting new
gown--Sergeant Fox afterwards described it to a brother officer as a
"stunning sort of rig between a cream and a blue and a brown"; she
flirted impartially with all the members of her circle at first, but
gradually narrowed down to Ned Madison, much to the delight of Mrs.
Hill, who was hovering around like a small, brilliant butterfly.

Violet was talking to Madison and watching John Spencer out of the
tail of her eye. Spencer was not an M.P. He had some government post
at Dufferin Bluff, and this was his first call at Lone Poplar Villa
since Miss Thayer's arrival. He did not seem to be dazzled by her at
all, and after his introduction had promptly retired to a corner with
Major Hill, where they talked the whole evening about the trouble on
the Indian reservation at Loon Lake.

Possibly this indifference piqued Miss Thayer. Possibly she considered
it refreshing after the servile adulation of the M.P.s. At any rate,
when all the latter were gathered about the piano singing a chorus
with gusto, she shook Madison off and went over to the corner where
Spencer, deserted by the Major, whose bass was wanted, was sitting in
solitary state.

He looked up indifferently as Violet shimmered down on the divan
beside him. Sergeant Robinson, who was watching them jealously from
the corner beyond the palms, and would have given his eyes, or at
least one of them, for such a favour, mentally vowed that Spencer was
the dullest fellow he had ever put those useful members on.

"Don't you sing, Mr. Spencer?" asked Violet by way of beginning a
conversation, as she turned her splendid eyes full upon him. Robinson
would have lost his head under them, but Spencer kept his heroically.

"No," was his calmly brief reply, given without any bluntness, but
with no evident intention of saying anything more.

In spite of her social experience Violet felt disconcerted.

"If he doesn't want to talk to me I won't try to make him," she
thought crossly. No man had ever snubbed her so before.

Spencer listened immovably to the music for a time. Then he turned to
his companion with a palpable effort to be civilly sociable.

"How do you like the west, Miss Thayer?" he said.

Violet smiled--the smile most men found dangerous.

"Very much, so far as I have seen it. There is a flavour about the
life here that I like, but I dare say it would soon pall. It must be
horribly lonesome here most of the time, especially in winter."

"The M.P.s are always growling that it is," returned Spencer with a
slight smile. "For my own part I never find it so."

Violet decided that his smile was very becoming to him and that she
liked the way his dark hair grew over his forehead.

"I don't think I've seen you at Lone Poplar Villa before?" she said.

"No. I haven't been here for some time. I came up tonight to see the
Major about the Loon Lake trouble."

"Otherwise you wouldn't have come," thought Violet.
"Flattering--very!" Aloud she said, "Is it serious?"

"Oh, no. A mere squabble among the Indians. Have you ever visited the
Reservation, Miss Thayer? No? Well, you should get some of your M.P.
friends to take you out. It would be worth while."

"Why don't you ask me to go yourself?" said Violet audaciously.

Spencer smiled again. "Have I failed in politeness by not doing so? I
fear you would find me an insufferably dull companion."

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