A CHANGE OF ENVIRONMENT
On the evening after his arrival in Vancouver, Vane paid a visit to one
of his directors; and, in accordance with the invitation, he and Carroll
reached the latter's dwelling some little time before the arrival of
several other guests, whose acquaintance it was considered advisable he
should make. In the business parts of most western cities iron and stone
have now replaced the native lumber, but on their outskirts wood is still
employed with admirable effect as a building material, and Nairn's house
was an example of the judicious use of the latter. It stood on a rise
above the inlet; picturesque in outline, with its artistic scroll-work,
Its wooden pillars, its lattice shutters and its balustraded verandas.
Virgin forest crept up close about it, and there was no fence to the
sweep of garden which divided it from the road.
Vane and his companion were ushered into a small room, with an uncovered
floor and simple, hardwood furniture. It was obviously a working room,
for, as a rule, the work of the western business man goes on continuously
except when he is asleep; but a somewhat portly lady with a good-humored
face reclined in a rocking chair. A gaunt, elderly man of rugged
appearance rose from his seat at a writing-table as his guests entered.
"So ye have come at last," he said. "I had ye shown in here, because this
room is mine, and I can smoke when I like. The rest of the house is Mrs.
Nairn's, and it seems that her friends do not appreciate the smell of my
cigars. I'm no sure that I can blame them."
Mrs. Nairn smiled placidly.
"Alic," she explained, "leaves them lying everywhere, and I do not
like the stubs of them on the stairs. But sit ye down and he will
give ye one."
Vane felt at home with both of them. He had met people of their kind
before, and, allowing for certain idiosyncrasies, considered them the
salt of the Dominion. Nairn had done good service to his adopted country,
developing her industries--with some profit to himself, for he was of
Scottish extraction; but, while close at a bargain, he could be generous
afterward. In the beginning, he had fought sternly for his own hand, and
it was supposed that Mrs. Nairn had helped him, not only by sound advice,
but by such practical economies as the making of his working clothes.
Those he wore on the evening in question did not fit him well, though
they were no longer the work of her capable fingers. When his guests were
seated he laid two cigar boxes on the table.
"Those," he said, pointing to one of them, "are mine. I think ye had
better try the others; they're for visitors."
Vane had already noticed the aroma of the cigar that was smoldering on a
tray and he decided that Nairn was right; so he dipped his hand into the
second box, which he passed to Carroll.
"Now," declared Nairn, "we can talk comfortably. Clara will listen.
Afterwards, it's possible she will favor me with her opinion."
Mrs. Nairn smiled at them encouragingly, and her husband proceeded.
"One or two of my colleagues were no pleased at ye for putting off
the meeting."
"The sloop was small, and it was blowing rather hard," Vane explained.
"Maybe. For all that, the tone of your message was no altogether what one
would call conciliatory. It informed us that ye would arrange for the
postponed meeting at your earliest convenience. Ye did not mention ours."
"I pointed that out to him, and he said it didn't matter," Carroll
interrupted with a laugh.
Nairn spread out his hands in expostulation, but there was dry
appreciation in his eyes.
"Young blood must have its way." He paused and looked thoughtful. "Ye
will no have said anything definite to Horsfield yet about the smelter?"
"No. So far, I'm not sure that it would pay us to put up the plant; and
the other man's terms are lower."
"Maybe," Nairn answered, and he made the single word very expressive. "Ye
have had the handling of the thing; but henceforward it will be necessary
to get the sanction of the board. However, ye will meet Horsfield
to-night. We expect him and his sister."
Vane thought he had been favored with a hint, but he fancied also that
his host was not inimical and was merely reserving his judgment with
Caledonian caution. Nairn changed the subject.
"So ye're going to England for a holiday. Ye will have friends who'll be
glad to see ye yonder?"
"I've one sister, but no other near relatives. But I expect to spend some
time with people you know. The Chisholms are old family friends, and, as
you will remember, it was through them that I first approached you."
Then, obeying one of the impulses which occasionally swayed him, he
turned to Mrs. Nairn.
"I'm grateful to them for sending me the letter of introduction to your
husband, because in many ways I'm in his debt. He didn't treat me as the
others did when I first went round this city with a few mineral
specimens."
He had expected nothing when he spoke, but there was a responsive look in
the lady's face which hinted that he had made a friend. As a matter of
fact, he owed a good deal to his host. There is a vein of human kindness
in the Scot, and he is often endowed with a keen, half-instinctive
judgment of his fellows which renders him less likely to be impressed by
outward appearances and the accidental advantages of polished speech or
tasteful dress than his southern neighbors. Vane would have had even more
trouble in floating his company had not Nairn been satisfied with him.
"So ye are meaning to stay with Chisholm!" the latter exclaimed. "We
had Evelyn here two years ago, and Clara said something about her
coming out again."
"It's nine years since I saw Evelyn."
"Then there's a surprise in store for ye. I believe they've a bonny
place--and there's no doubt Chisholm will make ye welcome."
The slight pause was expressive. It implied that Nairn, who had a
somewhat biting humor, could furnish a reason for Chisholm's hospitality
if he desired, and Vane was confirmed in this supposition when he saw the
warning look which his hostess cast at her husband.
"It's likely that we'll have Evelyn again in the fall," she said hastily.
"It's a very small world, Mr. Vane."
"It's a far cry from Vancouver to England," Vane replied. "How did you
first come to know Chisholm?"
Nairn answered him.
"Our acquaintance began with business. A concern that he was chairman of
had invested in British Columbian mining stock; and he's some kind of
connection of Colquhoun's."
Colquhoun was a man of some importance, who held a Crown appointment, and
Vane felt inclined to wonder why Chisholm had not sent him a letter to
him. Afterward, he guessed at the reason, which was not flattering to
himself or his host. Nairn and he chatted a while on business topics,
until there was a sound of voices below, and going down in company with
Mrs. Nairn they found two or three new arrivals in the entrance hall.
More came in; and when they sat down to supper, Vane was given a place
beside a young lady whom he had already met.
Jessy Horsfield was about his own age; tall and slight in figure, with
regular features, a rather colorless face, and eyes of a cold, light
blue. There was, however, something striking in her appearance, and Vane
was gratified by her graciousness to him. Her brother sat almost opposite
them: a tall, spare man, with a somewhat expressionless countenance,
except for the aggressive hardness in his eyes. Vane had noticed this
look, and it had aroused his dislike, but he had not observed it in the
eyes of Miss Horsfield, though it was present now and then. Nor did he
realize that while she chatted she was unobtrusively studying him. She
had not favored him with much notice when she was in his company on a
previous occasion; he had been a man of no importance then.
He was now dressed in ordinary attire, and the well-cut garments
displayed his lean, athletic figure. His face, Miss Horsfield decided,
was a good one: not exactly handsome, but attractive in its frankness;
and she liked the way he had of looking steadily at the person he
addressed. Though he had been, as she knew, a wandering chopper, a survey
packer, and, for a time, an unsuccessful prospector, there was no
coarsening stamp of toil on him. Indeed, the latter is not common in the
West, where as yet the division of employments is not practised to the
extent it is in older countries. Specialization has its advantages; but
it brands a man's profession upon him and renders it difficult for him to
change it. Except for the clear bronze of his skin, Vane might just have
left a Government office, or have come out from London or Montreal. He
was, moreover, a man whose acquaintance might be worth cultivating.
"I suppose you are glad you have finished your work in the bush," she
remarked presently. "It must be nice to get back to civilization."
Vane smiled as he glanced round the room. It ran right across the house,
and through the open windows came the clank of a locomotive bell down by
the wharf and the rattle of a steamer's winch. The sounds appealed to
him. They suggested organized activity, the stir of busy life; and it was
pleasant to hear them after the silence of the bush. The gleam of snowy
linen, dainty glass and silver caught his eye; and the hum of careless
voices and the light laughter were soothing.
"Yes; it's remarkably nice after living for nine years in the wilderness,
with only an occasional visit to some little wooden town."
A fresh dish was laid before him, and his companion smiled.
"You didn't get things of this kind among the pines."
"No," laughed Vane. "In fact, cookery is one of the bushman's trials;
anyway, when he's working for himself. You come back dead tired, and
often very wet, to your lonely tent, and then there's a fire to make and
supper to get before you can rest. It happens now and then that you're
too played out to trouble, and you go to sleep instead."
"Dreadful!" sympathized the girl. "But you have been in Vancouver
before?"
"Except on the last occasion, I stayed down near the water-front. We were
not provided with luxurious quarters or with suppers of this kind there."
"It's romantic; and, though you're glad it's over, there must be some
satisfaction in feeling that you owe the change to your own efforts. I
mean it must be nice to think one has captured a fair share of the good
things of life, instead of having them accidentally thrust upon one.
Doesn't it give you a feeling that in some degree you're master of your
fate? I should like that"
It was subtle flattery, and there were reasons why it appealed to the
man. He had worked for others, sometimes for inadequate wages, and had
wandered about the Province, dusty and footsore, in search of employment,
besides being beaten down at many a small bargain by richer or more
fortunately situated men. Now, however, he had resolved that there should
be a difference; instead of begging favors, he would dictate terms.
"I should have imagined it," he laughed, in answer to her last remark;
and he was right, for Jessy Horsfield was a clever woman who loved power
and influence.
Vane dropped his napkin, and was stooping to pick it up when an attendant
handed it back to him. He noticed and responded to the glimmer of
amusement in his companion's eyes.
"We are not accustomed to being waited on in the bush," he explained. "It
takes some time to get used to the change. When we wanted anything there
we got it for ourselves."
"Is that, in its wider sense, a characteristic of most bushmen?"
"I don't quite follow."
The girl laughed.
"I suppose one could divide men into two classes: those who are able to
get the things they desire for themselves--which implies the possession
of certain eminently useful qualities--and those who have them given to
them. In Canada the former are the more numerous."
"There's a third division," Vane corrected her, with a trace of grimness.
"I mean those who want a good many things and have to learn to do
without. It strikes me they're the most numerous of all."
"It's no doubt excellent discipline," retorted his companion.
She looked at him boldly, for she was interested in the man and was not
afraid of personalities.
"In any case, you have now passed out of that division."
Vane sat silent for the next few moments. Up to the age of eighteen most
of his reasonable wishes had been gratified. Then had come a startling
change, and he had discovered in the Dominion that he must lead a life of
Spartan self-denial. He had had the strength to do so, and for nine years
he had resolutely banished most natural longings. Amusements, in some of
which he excelled, the society of women, all the small amenities of life,
were things which must be foregone, and he had forced himself to be
content with food and, as a rule, very indifferent shelter. This, as his
companion suggested, had proved a wholesome discipline, since it had not
soured him. Now, though he did not overvalue them, he rejoiced in his new
surroundings, and the girl's comeliness and quickness of comprehension
had their full effect.
"It was you who located the Clermont Mine, wasn't it?" she went on.
"I read something about it in the papers--I think they said it was
copper ore."
This vagueness was misleading, for her brother had given her a good deal
of definite information about the mine.
"Yes," replied Vane, willing to take up any subject she suggested; "it's
copper ore, but there's some silver combined with it. Of course, the
value of any ore depends upon two things--the percentage of the metal,
and the cost of extracting it."
Her interest was flattering, and he added:
"In both respects, the Clermont product is promising."
After that he did not remember what they talked about; but the time
passed rapidly and he was surprised when Mrs. Nairn rose and the company
drifted away by twos and threes toward the veranda. Left by himself a
moment, he came upon Carroll sauntering down a corridor.
"I've had a chat with Horsfield," Carroll remarked.
"Well?"
"He may merely have meant to make himself agreeable, and he may have
wished to extract information about you: If the latter was his object, he
was not successful."
"Ah! Nairn's straight, anyway, and to be relied on. I like him and
his wife."
"So do I, though they differ from some of the others. There's not much
gilding on either of them."
"It's not needed; they're sterling metal."
"That's my own idea."
Carroll moved away and Vane strolled out onto the veranda, where
Horsfield joined him a few minutes later.
"I don't know whether it's a very suitable time to mention it; but may I
ask whether you are any nearer a decision about that smelter? Candidly,
I'd like the contract."
"I am not," Vane answered. "I can't make up my mind, and I may postpone
the matter indefinitely. It might prove more profitable to ship the ore
out for reduction."
Horsfield examined his cigar.
"Of course, I can't press you; but I may, perhaps, suggest that, as we'll
have to work together in other matters, I might be able to give you a
quid pro quo."
"That occurred to me. On the other hand, I don't know how much importance
I ought to attach to the consideration."
His companion laughed with apparent good-humor.
"Oh, well; I must wait until you're ready."
He strolled away, and presently joined his sister.
"How does Vane strike you?" he asked. "You seem to get on with him."
"I've an idea that you won't find him easy to influence," answered the
girl, looking at her brother pointedly.
"I'm inclined to agree with you. In spite of that, he's a man whose
acquaintance is worth cultivating."
He passed on to speak to Nairn; and shortly afterward Vane sat down
beside Jessy in a corner of a big room. Looking out across the veranda,
he could see far-off snowy heights tower in cold silver tracery against
the green of the evening sky. Voices and laughter reached him, and now
and then some of the guests strolled through the room. It was pleasant to
lounge there and feel that Miss Horsfield had taken him under her wing,
which seemed to describe her attitude toward him. She was handsome, and
he noticed how finely the soft, neutral tinting of her attire, which was
neither blue nor altogether gray, matched the azure of her eyes and
emphasized the dead-gold coloring of her hair.
"As Mrs. Nairn tells me you are going to England, I suppose we shall not
see you in Vancouver for some months," she said presently. "This city
really isn't a bad place to live in."
Vane felt gratified. She had implied that he would be an acquisition and
had included him among the number of her acquaintances.
"I fancy that I shall find it a particularly pleasant place," he
responded. "Indeed, I'm inclined to be sorry that I've made arrangements
to leave it very shortly."
"That is pure good-nature," laughed his companion.
"No; it's what I really feel."
Jessy let this pass.
"Mrs. Nairn mentioned that you know the Chisholms."
"I'd better say that I used to do so. They have probably changed out of
my knowledge, and they can scarcely remember me except by name."
"But you are going to see them?"
"I expect to spend some time with them."
Jessy changed the subject, and Vane found her conversation entertaining.
She appealed to his artistic perceptions and his intelligence, and it
must be admitted that she laid herself out to do so. She said nothing of
any consequence, but she knew how to make a glance or a changed
inflection expressive. He was sorry when she left him, but she smiled at
him before she moved away.
"If you and Mr. Carroll care to call, I am generally at home in the
afternoon," she said.
She crossed the room, and Vane joined Nairn and remained near him until
he took his departure.
Late the next afternoon, an hour or two after an Empress liner from China
and Japan had arrived, he and Carroll reached the C.P.R. station. The
Atlantic train was waiting and an unusual number of passengers were
hurrying about the cars. They were, for the most part, prosperous people:
business men, and tourists from England going home that way; and when
Vane found Mrs. Marvin and Kitty, he once more was conscious of a
stirring of compassion. The girl's dress, which had struck him as
becoming on the afternoon they spent on the beach, now looked shabby. In
Mrs. Marvin's case, the impression was more marked, and standing amid the
bustling throng with the child clinging to her hand she looked curiously
forlorn. Kitty smiled at him diffidently.
"You have been so kind," she began, and, pausing, added with a tremor in
her voice: "But the tickets--"
"Pshaw!" interrupted Vane. "If it will ease your mind, you can send me
what they cost after the first full house you draw."
"How shall we address you?"
"Clermont Mineral Exploitation. I don't want to think I'm going to lose
sight of you."
Kitty looked away from him a moment, and then looked back.
"I'm afraid you must make up your mind to that," she said.
Vane could not remember his answer, though he afterward tried; but just
then an official strode along beside the cars, calling to the passengers,
and when a bell began tolling Vane hurried the girl and her companions
onto a platform. Mrs. Marvin entered the car, Elsie held up her face to
kiss him before she disappeared, and he and Kitty were left alone. She
held out her hand, and a liquid gleam crept into her eyes.
"We can't thank you properly," she murmured, "Good-by!"
"No," Vane protested. "You mustn't say that."
"Yes," answered Kitty firmly, but with signs of effort. "It's good-by.
You'll be carried on in a moment!"
Vane gazed down at her, and afterward wondered at what he did, but she
looked so forlorn and desolate, and the pretty face was so close to his.
Stooping swiftly, he kissed her, and had a thrilling fancy that she did
not recoil; then the cars lurched forward and he swung himself down. They
slid past him, clanking, while he stood and gazed after them. Turning
around, he was by no means pleased to see that Nairn was regarding him
with quiet amusement.
"Been seeing the train away?" the latter suggested. "It's a popular
diversion with idle folk."
"I was saying good-by to somebody I met on the west coast," Vane
explained.
"Weel," chuckled Nairn, "she has bonny een."