Settlers of the Marsh (33 page)
“Ellen,” he says again and presses her small, shapely, calloused hand in his own large one â¦
“I know,” she says. “Don't speak. I have more to say. I have been to blame ⦠I should not have said at the time, what you wish can never be. I should have said, what you wish cannot be so long as I live under the shadow of my mother's life. But if you can wait ⦠For, Niels, I knew then as I know now that it is my destiny and my greatest need to have children, children ⦠And I knew then as I know now that there is no man living on earth from whom I could accept them if not you ⦠I thought I could live my life as a protest against the life my mother had lived. I had loved her and she was dead ⦠I should have known ⦠Had she been living, the mistake would never have been made ⦔
Again the man by her side presses her hand. Their shoulders touch. Not with the fleeting touch as in the bush. They are leaning against each other, quietly, trustingly, in peace with the world.
The man speaks, slowly, softly, his head bent low. “Do you think we can live down what lies in between?”
“Niels,” she says, “I've had more than six years time to think that over. I believe we can. And whether we can or not, we must try ⦔
An hour or so later they rise and walk home through the dusk. They do not kiss. Their lips have not touched. But their arms rest in each other; their fingers are intertwined â¦
As they go, a vision arises between them, shared by both.
All Canadian.
All Classics.
The Backwoods of Canada
by Catharine Parr Traill
Klee Wyck
by Emily Carr
Roughing It in the Bush
by Susanna Moodie
Settlers of the Marsh
by Frederick Philip Grove
Sunshine Sketches of a Little Town
by Stephen Leacock
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