Everything combined to urge him on. Even his college mate and one time
football comrade of the old Edinburgh days, the wise, cool-headed Dr.
Martin, now in charge of the Canadian Pacific Railway Hospital, as
also the little nurse who, through those momentous months of Mandy's
transforming, had been to her guide, philosopher and friend, both had
agreed that there was no good reason for delay. True, Cameron had no
means of getting inside the doctor's mind and therefore had no knowledge
of the vision that came nightly to torment him in his dreams and the
memory that came daily to haunt his waking hours; a vision and a memory
of a trim little figure in a blue serge gown, of eyes brown, now sunny
with laughing light, now soft with unshed tears, of hair that got itself
into a most bewildering perplexity of waves and curls, of lips curving
deliciously, of a voice with a wonderfully soft Highland accent; the
vision and memory of Moira, Cameron's sister, as she had appeared to him
in the Glen Cuagh Oir at her father's door. Had Cameron known of this
tormenting vision and this haunting memory he might have questioned
the perfect sincerity of his friend's counsel. But Dr. Martin kept his
secret well and none shared with him his visions and his dreams.

So there had been only the Superintendent to oppose.

Hence, because no really valid objection could be offered, the marriage
was made. And with much shrieking of engines--it seemed as if all the
engines with their crews within a hundred miles had gathered to the
celebration--with loud thunder of exploding torpedoes, with tumultuous
cheering of the construction gangs hauled thither on gravel trains,
with congratulations of railroad officials and of the doctor, with the
tearful smiles of the little nurse, and with grudging but finally hearty
good wishes of the Superintendent, they had ridden off down the Kootenay
Trail for their honeymoon, on their way to the Big Horn Ranch some