out of almost nothing. And he dared to believe he would be happy in it—a great incentive. Away from his mother’s eyes and tongue, Dudley was a different person, less gauche, more self-assured, even standing more erect and speaking with more confidence.
Yes, he could accomplish all they planned but not in Bliss, for a couple of reasons. Della was one of them. Secondly, though still considered the far-flung frontier, Bliss was, to its second generation, well established and lacking the spirit of the pioneer.
Daringly Matilda and Dudley considered their options: strike out on their own or move in with one set of parents or the other. Moving in with parents was ruled out immediately.
“I don’t want to be anybody’s man . . . or boy, if you know what I mean.” Dudley had expressed himself bravely. “I want to stand on my own two feet. Dad says, when we’ve talked about the future for me, that I have all the gumption he had and says it’ll be enough. I want to make it on my own.”
“Your mum? What does she say, you being the only child?” a cautious Matilda asked.
“Well,” he had said, more uncertainly, “I haven’t mentioned it to her. But,” he added, “if I go, I go, and that’s that. It’s not like it isn’t happening all the time—children leaving to start their own lives. Ma and Pa, in their day, came from the east coast and were among the first to settle here. Things were rough for them—”
“And for my folks as well,” Matilda said. “But I don’t know, Dudley; I’m still very uncertain about all this, and I haven’t agreed for sure, you understand.”
“Well, of course I understand. I haven’t asked for sure either, have I?” Dudley was full of bravado on the outside, very uncertain on the inside, especially where girls were concerned. It was a marvel and a miracle that Matilda had responded as she had, the very first time they talked about it. Well, he admitted, groundwork had been laid for several months, ever since he had noticed her particularly at the Sunday school picnic and dared to eat his picnic dinner with her. That Matilda would so muchas consider a poor fellow like him for a life’s partner! It was almost too much to hope for.
“ If I say yes,” she had continued primly, “and if we do get . . . married—”
“ If I ask,” Dudley had answered, surer of himself suddenly and more independent.
“Yes, all that. If we do, where would we go? What do you have in mind?”
“Oh, I dunno,” Dudley had answered airily, unsure again but determined to be a man and knowing some decisions were up to him. “Perhaps the Peace River country.”
Matilda had looked doubtful. “That’s a long ways away. And it’s terribly primitive there, isn’t it? I just don’t know—”
“But you’ll think about it, Tilda?” Dudley had asked, his thin face earnest and his eyes filled with hope and dreams.
Looking into her eyes, lost in them, drowning in them, it was then Dudley determined to be a man indeed. He leaned forward, pursed his lips, closed his eyes, and kissed her lips, already half raised to his. In accordance with her proper training regarding young men and their passions, it could not be said that Matilda fully responded. Neither did she refuse him. Nor did she back away as she surely would have done if she had truly objected. And there was no slap, the reaction that all young men feared! One brief moment and she had pulled back, looking up at Dudley with startled, surprised eyes. Startled, Dudley supposed, because she hadn’t thought him capable of such a momentous act, and surprised (he hoped) because she had found the experience to be pleasurable, as he certainly had.
After that, it was with swirling head and mind filled with plans Dudley had made his way homeward to help with the chores, evade his mother’s keen eyes at the supper table, and go to bed. Here, daydreams turned to nightmares where his mother’s scornful lashing stripped away every