Bindloss Harold
The Protector

CHAPTER XI – VANE WITHDRAWS

Dusk was drawing on when Vane strolled along the terrace in front of the Dene.

He was preoccupied and eager, but fully aware of the need for coolness, because it was very possible that he might fail in the task he had in hand. By and by he saw Evelyn, whom he had been waiting for, cross the opposite end of the terrace, and moving forward he joined her at the entrance to a shrubbery walk. A big, clipped yew with a recess in which a seat had been placed stood close by.

“I’ve been sitting with Mopsy,” said Evelyn. “She seems very little the worse for her adventure – thanks to you.” She hesitated, and her voice grew softer. “I owe you a heavy debt – I am very fond of Mopsy.”

“It’s a great pity she fell in,” Vane declared.

Evelyn looked at him with surprise. She scarcely thought he could regret the efforts he had made on her sister’s behalf, but that was what his words implied.

“The trouble is that the thing might seem to give me some claim on you, and I don’t want that,” he explained. “It cost me no more than a wetting; I hadn’t the least difficulty in getting her out.”

His companion was still puzzled. She could find no fault with him for being modest about his exploit, but that he should make it clear that he did not require her gratitude seemed to her unnecessary.

“For all that, you did bring her out,” she persisted.

“I don’t seem to be beginning very fortunately,” Vane replied. “What I mean is, that I don’t want to urge my claim, if I have one. I’d sooner be taken on my merits.” He paused a moment with a smile. “That’s not much better, is it? But it partly expresses what I feel. Leaving Mopsy out altogether, let me try to explain – I don’t wish you to be influenced by anything except your own idea of me. I’m saying this because one or two points that seem in my favour may have a contrary effect.”

Evelyn made no answer, and he indicated the seat. “Won’t you sit down, I have something more to say.”

The girl did as he suggested, and his smile faded. “Now,” he went on, “you won’t be astonished if I ask if you will marry me?”

He stood looking down on her with an impressive steadiness of gaze. She could imagine him facing the city men, from whom he had extorted the full value of his mine, in the same fashion, and in a later instance, so surveying the eddies beneath the osiers when he had gone to Mabel’s rescue. She felt that they had better understand one another.

“No,” she said; “if I must be candid, I am not astonished.” Then the colour crept into her cheeks, is she met his gaze. “I suppose it is an honour and it is undoubtedly a – temptation.”

“A temptation?”

“Yes,” said Evelyn, mustering her courage to face a crisis she had dreaded. “It is only due to you that you should hear the truth – though I think you suspect it. I have some liking for you.”

“That is what I wanted you to own,” Vane broke in.

She checked him with a gesture. Her manner was cold, and yet there was something in it that stirred him more than her beauty.

“After all,” she answered, “It does not go very far, and you must try to understand. I want to be quite honest, and what I have to say is – difficult. In the first place, things are far from pleasant for me here; I was expected to make a good marriage, and I had my chance in London; I refused to profit by it, and now I’m a failure. I wonder if you can realise what a temptation it is to get away.”

“Yes,” he said; “it makes me savage to think of it. I can, at least, take you out of all this. If you hadn’t had a very fine courage, you wouldn’t have told me.”

Evelyn smiled a curious wry smile.

“It has only prompted me to behave, as most people would consider, shamelessly; but there are times when one must get above that point of view. Besides, there’s a reason for my candour. Had you been a man of different stamp, it’s possible that I might have been driven into taking the risk. We should both have suffered for a time, but through open variance we might have reached an understanding – not to intrude on one another. As it is, I could not do you that injustice, and I should shrink from marrying you with only a little cold liking.”

The man held himself firmly in hand. Her calmness had infected him, and he felt that this was not an occasion for romantic protestations, even had he felt capable of making them, which was not the case. As a matter of fact, such things were singularly foreign to his nature.

“Even that would go a long way with me, if I could get nothing better,” he declared. “Besides, you might change. I could surround you with some comfort; I think I could promise not to force my company upon you; I believe I could be kind.”

“Yes,” assented Evelyn; “I shouldn’t be afraid of harshness from you; but it seems impossible that I should change. You must see that you started handicapped from the beginning. Had I been free to choose, it might have been different; but I have lived for some time in shame and fear, hating the thought that some one would be forced on me.”

He said nothing, and she went on. “Must I tell you? You are the man.”

His face grew hard and for a moment he set his lips tight. It would have been a relief to express his feelings concerning his host just then.

“If you don’t hate me for it now, I’m willing to take the risk,” he said at length. “It will be my fault if you hate me in the future; I’ll try not to deserve it.”

He imagined she was yielding, but she roused herself with an effort.

“No,” she said. “Love on one side may go a long way, if it is strong enough – but it must be strong to overcome the many clashes of thought and will. Yours” – she looked at him steadily – “would not stand the strain.”

Vane started. “You are the only woman I ever wished to marry.” He paused with a forcible gesture. “What can I say to convince you?”

She smiled softly. “I’m afraid it’s impossible. If you had wanted me greatly, you would have pressed the claim you had in saving Mopsy, and I would have forgiven you that; you would have urged any and every claim. As it is, I suppose I am pretty” – her lips curled scornfully – “and you find some of your ideas and mine agree. It isn’t half enough. Shall I tell you that you are scarcely moved as yet?”

It flashed upon Vane that he was confronted with the reality. Her beauty had appealed to him, but without rousing passion, for there was little of the sensual in this man. Her other qualities, her reserved graciousness, which had a tinge of dignity in it; her insight and comprehension, had also had their effect; but they had only awakened admiration and respect. He desired her as one desires an object for its rarity and preciousness; but this, as she had told him, was not enough. Behind her physical and mental attributes, and half revealed by them, there was something deeper: the real personality of the girl. It was elusive, mystic, with a spark of immaterial radiance which might brighten human love with its transcendent glow; but, as he dimly realised, if he won her by force, it might recede and vanish altogether. He could not, with strong ardour, compel its clearer manifestation.

“I think I am as moved as it is possible for me to be,” he said.

Evelyn shook her head. “No; you will discover the difference some day, and then you will thank me for leaving you your liberty. Now I beg you to leave me mine and let me go.”

Vane stood silent a minute or two, for the last appeal had stirred him to chivalrous pity. He was shrewd enough to realise that if he persisted he could force her to come to him. Her father and mother were with him; she had nothing – no common-place usefulness or trained abilities – to fall back upon if she defied them. But it was unthinkable that he should brutally compel her.

“Well,” he said at length, “I must try to face the situation; I want to assure you that it is not a pleasant one to me. But there’s another point. I’m afraid I’ve made things worse for you. Your people will probably blame you for sending me away.”

Evelyn did not answer this, and he broke into a little grim smile. “Now,” he added, “I think I can save you any trouble on that score – though the course I’m going to take isn’t flattering, if you look at it in one way. I want you to leave me to deal with your father.”

He took her consent for granted, and leaning down laid a hand lightly on her shoulder. “You will try to forgive me for the anxiety I have caused you. The time I’ve spent here has been very pleasant, but I’m going back to Canada in a few days. Perhaps you’ll think of me without bitterness now and then.”

He turned away, and Evelyn sat still, glad that the strain was over, and thinking earnestly. The man was gentle and considerate as well as forceful, and she liked him. Indeed, she admitted that she had not met any man she liked as much, but that was not going very far. Then she began to wonder at her candour, and to consider if it had been necessary. It was curious that this was the only man she had ever taken into her confidence; and her next suitor would probably be a much less promising specimen. On the other hand, it was consoling to remember that eligible suitors for the daughter of an impoverished gentleman were likely to be scarce.

It had grown dark when she rose and, entering the house, went up to Mabel’s room. The girl looked at her sharply as she came in.

“So you have got rid of him,” she said. “I think you’re very silly.”

“How did you know?” Evelyn asked with a start.

“I heard him walking up and down the terrace, and I heard you go out. You can’t walk over raked gravel without making a noise. He went along to join you, and it was a good while before you came back at different times. I’ve been waiting for this the last day or two.”

Evelyn sat down with a strained smile. “Well,” she said, “I have sent him away.”

Mabel regarded her indignantly. “Then you’ll never get another chance like this one. If you had only taken him I could have worn decent frocks. Nobody could call the last one that.”

This was a favourite grievance and Evelyn ignored it; but Mabel had more to say. “I suppose,” she went on, “you don’t know that Wallace has been getting Gerald out of trouble?”

“Are you sure of that?” Evelyn asked sharply.

“Yes,” said Mabel; “I’ll tell you what I know. Wallace saw Gerald in London – he told us that – and we all know that Gerald couldn’t pay his debts a little while since. You remember he came down to Kendal and went on and stayed the next night with the Claytons. It isn’t astonishing that he didn’t come here after the row there was on the last occasion.”

“Go on,” said Evelyn. “What has his visit to the Claytons to do with it?”

“Well,” said Mabel, “you don’t know that I saw Gerald in the afternoon. After all, he’s the only brother I’ve got; and as Jim was going to the station with the trap I made him take me. The Claytons were in the garden; we were scattered about, and I heard Frank and Gerald, who had strolled off from the others, talking. Gerald was telling him about some things he’d bought; they must have been expensive, because Frank asked him where he got the money. Gerald laughed, and said he’d had an unexpected stroke of luck that had set him straight again. Now, of course, Gerald got no money from home, and if he’d won it he would have told Frank how he did so. Gerald always would tell a thing like that.”

Evelyn was filled with confusion and hot indignation. She had little doubt that Mabel’s surmise was correct.

“I wonder if he has told anybody, though it’s scarcely likely,” she said.

“Of course he hasn’t. We all know what Gerald is. Wallace ought to get his money back, now you have sent him away,” Mabel, who had waited a moment or two, went on. “But, of course, that’s most unlikely. It wouldn’t take Gerald long to waste it.”

Evelyn rose, and, making some excuse, left the room. A suspicion which had troubled her more than Gerald’s conduct had lately crept into her mind, and it now thrust itself upon her attention – several things pointed to the fact that her father had taken a similar course to that which her brother had taken. She felt that had she heard Mabel’s information before the interview with Vane, she might have yielded to him in an agony of humiliation. Mabel had summed up the situation with stinging candour and crudity – Vane, who had been defrauded, was entitled to recover the money he had parted with. For a few moments Evelyn was furiously angry with him, and then, growing calmer, she recognised that this was unreasonable. She could not imagine any idea of a compact originating with the man, and he had quietly acquiesced in her decision.

Soon after she left her sister, Vane walked into the room which Chisholm reserved for his own use. Chisholm was sitting at the table with some papers in front of him and a cigar in his hand, and Vane drew out a chair and lighted his pipe before he addressed him.

“I’ve made up my mind to sail on Saturday, instead of next week,” he said.

“You have decided rather suddenly, haven’t you?”

Vane knew that what his host wished to inquire about was the cause of his decision, and he meant to come to the point. He was troubled by no consideration for the man.

“The last news I had indicated that I was wanted,” he replied. “After all, there was only one reason why I have abused Mrs. Chisholm’s hospitality so long.”

“Well?” said Chisholm, with an abruptness which hinted at anxiety.

“You will remember what I asked you some time ago. I had better say that I abandon the idea.”

Chisholm started, and his florid face grew redder while Vane, in place of embarrassment, was conscious of a somewhat grim amusement. It seemed strange that a man of Chisholm’s stamp should have any pride, but he evidently possessed it.

“What am I to understand by that?” he asked with some asperity.

“I think what I said explained it. Bearing in mind your and Mrs. Chisholm’s influence, I’ve an idea that Evelyn might have yielded, if I’d strongly urged my suit; but that was not by any means what I wanted. I’d naturally prefer a wife who married me because she wished to do so. That’s why, after thinking the thing over, I’ve decided to – withdraw.”

Chisholm straightened himself in his chair, in fiery indignation, which he made no attempt to conceal.

“You mean that after asking my consent and seeing more of Evelyn, you have changed your mind. Can’t you understand that it’s an unpardonable confession; one which I never fancied a man born and brought up in your station could have brought himself to make.”

Vane looked at him with an impassive face. “It strikes me as largely a question of terms – I mayn’t have used the right one. Now you know how the matter stands, you can describe it in any way that sounds nicest. In regard to your other remark, I’ve been in a good many stations, and I must admit that until lately none of them were likely to promote much delicacy of sentiment.”

“So it seems,” Chisholm was almost too hot to sneer. “But can’t you realise how your action reflects upon my daughter?”

Vane held himself in hand. He had only one object: to divert Chisholm’s wrath from Evelyn to himself and he thought he was succeeding in this. For the rest, he cherished a strong resentment against the man.

“It can’t reflect upon her, unless you talk about it, and both you and Mrs. Chisholm have sense enough to refrain from doing so,” he answered dryly. “I can’t flatter myself that Evelyn will grieve over me.” Then his manner changed. “Now we’ll get down to business. I don’t purpose to call that loan in, which will, no doubt, be a relief to you.”

He rose leisurely and, strolling out of the room, met Carroll shortly afterwards in the hall. The latter glanced at him sharply.

“What have you been doing?” he inquired. “There’s a look I seem to remember in your eye.”

“I suppose I’ve been outraging the rules of decency, but I don’t feel ashamed. I’ve been acting the uncivilised Westerner, though it’s possible that I rather strained the part. To come to the point, however, we pull out for the Dominion first thing to-morrow.”

Carroll asked no further questions. He did not think it would serve any purpose, and he contented himself with making arrangements for their departure, which they took early on the morrow. Vane had a brief interview with Mabel, who shed some tears over him, and then by her contrivance secured a word or two with Evelyn alone.

“Now,” he said, “it’s possible that you may hear some hard things of me, and I count upon your not contradicting them. After all, I think you owe me that favour. There’s just another matter – as I won’t be here to trouble you, try to think of me leniently.”

He held her hand for a moment and then turned away, and a few minutes later he and Carroll left the Dene.

CHAPTER XII – VANE GROWS RESTLESS

Vane had been back in Vancouver a fortnight when he sat one evening on the verandah of Nairn’s house in company with his host and Carroll, lazily looking down upon the inlet.

Nairn referred to one of the papers in his hand.

“Horsfield has been bringing up that smelter project again, and there’s something to be said in favour of his views,” he remarked. “We’re paying a good deal for reduction.”

“We couldn’t keep a smelter going at present,” Vane objected.

“There are two or three low-grade mineral properties in the neighbourhood of the Clermont that have only had a little development work done on them,” Nairn pointed out. “They can’t pay freight on their raw product; but I’m thinking we’d encourage their owners to open up the mines, and get their business, if we had a smelter handy.”

“It wouldn’t amount to much,” Vane replied. “Besides, there’s another objection – we haven’t the dollars to put up a thoroughly efficient plant.”

“Horsfield’s ready to find part of them and do the work.”

“I know he is,” said Vane. “He’s suspiciously eager. The arrangement would give him a pretty strong hold upon the company; there are ways in which he could squeeze us.”

“It’s possible. But, looking at it as a personal matter, there are inducements he could offer ye. Horsfield’s a man who has the handling of other folks’ dollars, as weel as a good many of his own. It might be wise to stand in with him.”

“So he hinted,” Vane answered shortly.

“Your argument was about the worst you could have used, Mr. Nairn,” Carroll broke in, laughing.

“Weel,” said Nairn, good-humouredly, “I’m no urging it. I would not see your partner make enemies for the want of a warning.”

“He’d probably do so, in any case; it’s a gift of his,” said Carroll. “On the other hand, it’s fortunate he has a way of making friends: the two things sometimes go together.”

Vane turned to Nairn with signs of impatience. “It might save trouble if I state that while I’m a director of the Clermont I expect to be content with a fair profit on my stock in the company.”

“He’s modest,” Carroll commented. “What he means is that he doesn’t propose to augment that profit by taking advantage of his position.”

“It’s a creditable idea, though I’m no sure it’s as common as might be desired. While I have to thank ye for it, I would not consider the explanation altogether necessary,” said Nairn, whose eyes twinkled. Then he addressed Vane: “Now we come to another point – the company’s a small one, the mine is doing satisfactorily, and the moment’s favourable for the floating of mineral properties. If we got an option on the half-developed claims near the Clermont and went into the market, it’s likely that an issue of new stock would meet with investors’ favour.”

“I suppose so,” said Vane. “I’ll support such a scheme, when I can see how an increased capital could be used to advantage and I am convinced about the need for a smelter. At present, that’s not the case.”

“I mentioned it as a duty – ye’ll hear more of it; for the rest, I’m inclined to agree with ye,” Nairn replied.

A few minutes later he went into the house with Carroll, and as they entered it he glanced at his companion. “In the present instance, Mr. Vane’s views are sound,” he said. “But I see difficulties before him.”

“So do I. When he grapples with him it will be by a frontal attack.”

“A bit of compromise is judicious now and then.”

“In a general way it’s not likely to appeal to my partner. When he can’t get through by direct means, there’ll be something wrecked. You had better understand what kind of man he is.”

“It’s no the first time I’ve been enlightened upon the point.”

Shortly after they had disappeared, Miss Horsfield came out of another door, and Vane rose when she approached him.

“Mrs. Nairn told me I would find you and the others in the verandah,” she informed him. “She said she would join you presently, and it was too fine to stay in.”

“I think she was right,” Vane replied. “As you see, I’m alone. Nairn and Carroll have just deserted me, but I can’t complain. What pleases me most about this house is that you can do what you like in it, and – within limits – the same thing applies to this city.”

Jessie laughed, and sank gracefully into the chair he drew forward.

“Yes,” she said. “I think that would please you. But how long have you been back?”

“A fortnight, since yesterday.”

There was a hint of reproach in the glance Jessie favoured him with. “Then I think Mrs. Nairn might have brought you over to see us.”

Vane wondered if she meant she was surprised he had not come of his own accord, and he was mildly flattered.

“I was away at the mine a good deal of the time,” he replied deprecatingly.

“I wonder if you are sorry to get back?”

Turning a little, Vane indicated the climbing city, rising tier on tier above its water front; and then the broad expanse of blue inlet and the faint white line of towering snow.

“Wouldn’t anything I could say in praise of Vancouver be trifle superfluous?” he asked.

Jessie recognised that he had parried her question neatly, but this did not deter her. She was anxious to learn if he had felt any regret in leaving England, or, to be more concise, if there was anybody in that country whom he had reluctantly parted from. She admitted that the man attracted her. There was a breezy freshness about him, and though she was acquainted with a number of young men whose conversation was characterised by snap and sparkle, they needed toning down. This miner was set apart from them by something which he had doubtless acquired in youth in the older land.

“That wasn’t quite what I meant,” she said. “We don’t always want to be flattered, and I’m in search of information. You told me you had been nine years in this country, and life must be rather different yonder. How did it strike you after the absence?”

“It’s difficult to explain,” Vane replied with an air of amused reflection which hinted that he meant to get away from the point. “On the whole, I think I’m more interested in the question how I struck them. It’s curious that whereas some folks insist upon considering me English here, I’ve a suspicion that they looked upon me as a typical colonial there.”

“One wouldn’t like to think you resented it.”

“How could I? This land sheltered me when I was an outcast, and set me on my feet.”

“Ah!” said Jessie, “you are the kind we don’t mind taking in. The rest go back and abuse us. But you haven’t given me very much information yet.”

“Then,” said Vane, “the best comparison is supplied by my first remark – that in this city you can do what you like. You’re rather fenced in yonder, which, if you’re of a placid disposition, is, no doubt, comforting, because it shuts out unpleasant things. On the other hand, if you happen to be restless and active, the fences are inconvenient, because you can’t always climb over, and it is not considered proper to break them down. Still, having admitted that, I’m proud of the old land. It’s only the fences that irritate me.”

“Fences would naturally be obnoxious to you. But we have some here.”

“They’re generally built loose, of split-rails, and not nailed. An energetic man can pull off a bar or two and stride over. If it’s necessary, he can afterwards put them up again, and there’s no harm done.”

“Would you do the latter?”

Vane’s expression changed. “No,” he said. “I think if there were anything good on the other side, I’d widen the gap so that the less agile and the needy could crawl through.” He smiled at her. “You see, I owe some of them a good deal. They were the only friends I had when I first tramped, jaded and footsore, about the province.”

Jessie was pleased with his answer. She had heard of the bush choppers’ free hospitality, and she thought it was a graceful thing that he should acknowledge his debt to them.

“Now at last you’ll be content to rest a while,” she suggested. “I dare say you deserve it.”

“It’s strange you should say that, because just before you came out of the house I was thinking that I’d sat still long enough,” Vane answered with a laugh. “It’s a thing that gets monotonous. One must keep going on.”

“Then,” said Jessie, “take care you don’t walk over a precipice some day when you have left all the fences behind. But I’ve kept you from your meditations, and I had better see if Mrs. Nairn is coming.”

She left him, and he was lighting a cigar when he noticed a girl whose appearance seemed familiar in the road below. Moving along the verandah, he recognised her as Kitty, and hastily crossed the lawn towards her. She was accompanied by a young man whom Vane had once seen in the city, but she greeted him with evident pleasure.

“Tom,” she said, when they had exchanged a few words, “this is Mr. Vane,” Then turning to Vane she added: “Mr. Drayton.”

Vane, who liked the man’s face and manner, shook hands with him, and then looked back at Kitty.

“What are you doing now, and how are little Elsie and her mother?” he inquired.

Kitty’s face clouded. “Mrs. Marvin’s dead. Elsie’s with some friends at Spokane, and I think she’s well looked after. I’ve given up the stage. Tom” – she explained shyly – “didn’t like it. Now I’m with some people at a ranch near the Fraser on the Westminster road. There are two or three children and I’m fond of them.”

Drayton smiled. “She won’t be there long. I’ve wanted to meet you for some time, Mr. Vane. They told me at the office that you were away.”

“Ah!” said Vane, “I suppose my congratulations won’t be out of place. Won’t you ask me to the wedding?”

Kitty blushed. “Will you come?”

“Try,” said Vane, and Drayton broke in:

“There’s nobody we would sooner see. I’m heavily in your debt, Mr. Vane.”

“Oh, pshaw!” rejoined Vane. “Come and see me any time: to-morrow, if you can manage it.”

Drayton said he would do so, and shortly afterwards he and Kitty moved away, but Vane, who turned back across the lawn, was not aware that Jessie had watched the meeting from the verandah and had recognised Kitty, whom she had once seen at the station. She had already ascertained that the girl had arrived at Vancouver in his company, which, in view of the opinion she had formed about him, somewhat puzzled her; but she said one must endeavour to be charitable. Besides, having closely watched the little group, she was inclined to believe from the way Vane shook hands with the man that there was no danger to be apprehended from Kitty.