Read Online Journey to Bliss (Saskatchewan Saga Book #3) by Ruth Glover - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Ruth Glover
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“You see me before you. I’ve lived through all seasons there and have survived in rather fine fashion, wouldn’t you say?”
The doubt on several faces may have persuaded Ishbel Mountjoy to bridle a bit and add, “Your own highland weatherwould cause many a delicate female to cringe, and we’re not expecting women of delicate sensibilities to respond to the challenge of the Canadian West. This is for the woman with the heart of an adventurer. The woman of courage, strength, determination, and even humor. For every woman who quits, a thousand stand ready to take her place. And her man.”
Again that reference to marriage. And it may have had the desired effect, for several women brightened. Well, marriage was the least of Tierney’s thoughts! In fact, she had determined, when Robbie Dunbar sailed away, that she would never consider marriage again.
But a pioneer, a woman of adventure! As a lone star braves the night’s overwhelming darkness and endures, so Tierney responded to the challenge of the tremendous odds presented by the speaker. Was challenged and, in her heart, cried out a silent but vigorous “Aye!”
Glancing at Anne to see what her reaction might be to all of this, it was to see Anne’s lips parted slightly; she was breathing quickly as though having run through a troop, her color was high as though she had walked through a gale, and in Anne’s eyes something flickered that Tierney recognized as a glimmer of that same star that had risen on her own dark horizon.
Anne’s eyes were the exalted eyes of one who explores untraversed regions to mark out a new route—a true pioneer, a dedicated adventurer.
Were Tierney’s eyes any less expressive? Surely Anne saw her own commitment mirrored there as the girls looked searchingly at one another. If what Ishbel Mountjoy had set out to do was instill in her hearers a sense of well-being, power, and importance, of being in charge of their own future, she had wonderfully succeeded where Tierney Caulder and Anne Fraser were concerned.
“Be on this spot at noon three days from now,” Ishbel Mountjoy said, striking while the iron was hot, “with whatever you wish to take with you—no more than two bags each, please. Now, who wants to be first to sign up?”
A ll right, girls—time to ascend.”
Tierney and Anne looked at each other, stifling grins. Through the gloom of the ship’s hold where they were quartered, amid the scuffle and scurry of preparing to go up on deck, in spite of the heavy odor of too many bodies in one space—the girls found occasion to laugh. Ascend, indeed!
No matter the moment’s disarray, no matter the occasion’s emergency, no matter the situation’s aggravation, Ishbel Mountjoy kept her poise, kept her standards. Her good English schooling and training never forsook her. Canadian she may have become, but English she would remain until the day she died. Where Ishbel Mountjoy went, there went a little bit of England. And there went propriety.
“I can imagine,” Tierney had said one time to Anne, shaking her head in unbelief at the woman’s magnificent aplomb in the face of some emergency, “the ship goin’ doon and the billows risin’ over our heads, and Mrs. Mountjoy strictly insistin’, ‘One at a time, girls, one at a time.’”
Ishbel Mountjoy was the perfect choice to represent the British Women’s Emigration Society. Not only could she give a lucid explanation about why a move to Canada was advantageous, painting an attractive picture of all it had to offer the downtrodden, abused, discouraged, and neglected females of the British Isles, but her very appearance and demeanor spoke of solid Victorian virtues. Wherever the name of the good queen was invoked, there went morality, excellence of character, modesty, decency. And there went Ishbel Mountjoy.
The group Mrs. Mountjoy had managed to assemble—with the help of others who had spread themselves over England, Ireland, and Scotland—was a motley crew,
The doubt on several faces may have persuaded Ishbel Mountjoy to bridle a bit and add, “Your own highland weatherwould cause many a delicate female to cringe, and we’re not expecting women of delicate sensibilities to respond to the challenge of the Canadian West. This is for the woman with the heart of an adventurer. The woman of courage, strength, determination, and even humor. For every woman who quits, a thousand stand ready to take her place. And her man.”
Again that reference to marriage. And it may have had the desired effect, for several women brightened. Well, marriage was the least of Tierney’s thoughts! In fact, she had determined, when Robbie Dunbar sailed away, that she would never consider marriage again.
But a pioneer, a woman of adventure! As a lone star braves the night’s overwhelming darkness and endures, so Tierney responded to the challenge of the tremendous odds presented by the speaker. Was challenged and, in her heart, cried out a silent but vigorous “Aye!”
Glancing at Anne to see what her reaction might be to all of this, it was to see Anne’s lips parted slightly; she was breathing quickly as though having run through a troop, her color was high as though she had walked through a gale, and in Anne’s eyes something flickered that Tierney recognized as a glimmer of that same star that had risen on her own dark horizon.
Anne’s eyes were the exalted eyes of one who explores untraversed regions to mark out a new route—a true pioneer, a dedicated adventurer.
Were Tierney’s eyes any less expressive? Surely Anne saw her own commitment mirrored there as the girls looked searchingly at one another. If what Ishbel Mountjoy had set out to do was instill in her hearers a sense of well-being, power, and importance, of being in charge of their own future, she had wonderfully succeeded where Tierney Caulder and Anne Fraser were concerned.
“Be on this spot at noon three days from now,” Ishbel Mountjoy said, striking while the iron was hot, “with whatever you wish to take with you—no more than two bags each, please. Now, who wants to be first to sign up?”
A ll right, girls—time to ascend.”
Tierney and Anne looked at each other, stifling grins. Through the gloom of the ship’s hold where they were quartered, amid the scuffle and scurry of preparing to go up on deck, in spite of the heavy odor of too many bodies in one space—the girls found occasion to laugh. Ascend, indeed!
No matter the moment’s disarray, no matter the occasion’s emergency, no matter the situation’s aggravation, Ishbel Mountjoy kept her poise, kept her standards. Her good English schooling and training never forsook her. Canadian she may have become, but English she would remain until the day she died. Where Ishbel Mountjoy went, there went a little bit of England. And there went propriety.
“I can imagine,” Tierney had said one time to Anne, shaking her head in unbelief at the woman’s magnificent aplomb in the face of some emergency, “the ship goin’ doon and the billows risin’ over our heads, and Mrs. Mountjoy strictly insistin’, ‘One at a time, girls, one at a time.’”
Ishbel Mountjoy was the perfect choice to represent the British Women’s Emigration Society. Not only could she give a lucid explanation about why a move to Canada was advantageous, painting an attractive picture of all it had to offer the downtrodden, abused, discouraged, and neglected females of the British Isles, but her very appearance and demeanor spoke of solid Victorian virtues. Wherever the name of the good queen was invoked, there went morality, excellence of character, modesty, decency. And there went Ishbel Mountjoy.
The group Mrs. Mountjoy had managed to assemble—with the help of others who had spread themselves over England, Ireland, and Scotland—was a motley crew,
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