ALTON IS SILENT
There is a ridge of rising ground on the outskirts of Vancouver City
where a few years ago a pretty wooden house stood beneath the pines.
They rose sombrely behind it, but the axe had let in the sunlight
between the rise and the water, and one could look out from the trim
garden across the blue inlet towards the ranges' snow. To-day one
would in all probability look for that dwelling in vain, and find only
stores or great stone buildings, for as the silent men with the axes
push the lonely clearings farther back into the forest the Western
cities grow, and those who dwell in them increase in riches, which is
not usually the case with the axeman who goes on farther into the bush
again.
Still, one moonlight evening, when Alton waited upon its verandah,
cigar in hand, the house stood upon the hillside, picturesque with its
painted scroll-work, green shutters, colonnades of cedar pillars, and
broad verandahs. Its owner was an Englishman who had prospered in the
Dominion, and combined the kindliness he still retained for his
countrymen with the lavish hospitality of the West. He knew Alton by
reputation, and having business with him had made him free of his house
when he inquired for Deringham, who was his guest, during the former's
absence in the State of Washington. That was how Alton came to be
waiting for dinner in company with a young naval officer. Deringham
and his daughter had returned during the day, but they had driven
somewhere with their hostess and not come back as yet.
Alton had seen Commander Thorne for the first time that day, but some
friendships are made rapidly and without an effort, and he was already
sensible of a regard for his companion. He was a quiet and unobtrusive
Englishman, with the steadiness of gaze and decisiveness of speech
which characterized those who command at sea, and had discovered that
he had, notwithstanding the difference in their vocations, much in
common with rancher Alton.
"Yes," he said. "It is very good of you, and if we stay at Esquimault
I will come up and spend a day or two among the deer. Atkinson told us
what a good time he had with you, but we were a trifle astonished to
see the fine wapiti head he brought back with him."
There was a faint twinkle in the speaker's eyes which Alton understood,
for Atkinson, who was not an adept at trailing deer, had shot more than
a wapiti. Still, he was not the man to allude to the misadventures of
his guest.
"He killed it neatly--a good hundred yards, and in the fern," he said.
"Well," said Thorne with a little laugh, "you were with him, and know
best. You had, however, a tolerably mixed bag on that occasion?"
Alton checked a smile. "A wapiti, a wood deer--and sundries."
Thorne laughed again. "I wonder if you have forgotten the hog? You
see, Atkinson told us one night at mess, and I was inclined to fancy he
came near including you in the bag."
Alton's face was suspiciously grave, but his answer strengthened the
incipient friendship between the men.
"It is a little difficult for a stranger to distinguish things in the
bush."
Thorne nodded. "You had Deringham and Miss Deringham staying with you?"
"Yes," said Alton. "They are connections of mine, and Miss Deringham
did a good deal for me when I was sick a little while ago. You knew
them in the old country?"
There was, though he strove to suppress it, something in his voice
which caused the naval officer to glance at him sharply. "Oh, yes," he
said. "I knew them--rather well."
The men's eyes met, and both were conscious that the words might have
been amplified, while it was with a slight abruptness they returned to
the previous topic and discussed it until there was a rattle of wheels
in the drive. Then Forel, their host, came out upon the verandah, and
there was a hum of voices as several people descended from the vehicle
beneath.
Mrs. Forel came up the stairway first with Alice Deringham, and when a
blaze of light shone into the verandah from the open door Alton saw the
girl draw back for a second as her eyes rested upon his companion.
She, however, smiled next moment, and Alton did not miss the slight
flush of pleasure in the face of Commander Thorne. He was also to meet
with another astonishment, for Deringham and Seaforth came up the
stairway next together, and Thorne dropped his cigar when he and the
latter stood face to face.
"Charley! Is it you?" he said.
Seaforth stood quite still a moment looking at him, and then, being
possibly sensible that other eyes were upon him, shook hands.
"Yes," he said. "I heard the gunboat was at Esquimault, but did not
expect to see you."
Then there was a somewhat awkward silence, and Alton fancied that both
men were relieved when Mrs. Forel's voice broke in, "Jack, you will
look after the men, but don't keep them talking too long. We picked up
Mr. Seaforth, and there are one or two more of our friends coming."
Alton followed his host, wondering at what he had seen. It was evident
that Miss Deringham had not noticed him, and he fancied she had been
for a moment almost embarrassed by the encounter with Thorne. That and
what the man had told him had its meaning. He had also noticed that
when the latter greeted his comrade there had been a constraint upon
both of them, but decided that what it betokened did not concern him.
Returning he found Mrs. Forel waiting for him, and having been born in
a Western city her conversation was not marked by English reticence or
the restraint which is at least as common in the Canadian bush.
"Dinner is ready, and you will have to talk to me and the railroad man
during it," she said. "I had thought of making you over to Miss
Deringham until Commander Thorne turned up. Jack and he are great
friends, but he didn't seem able to get over here, until he heard Miss
Deringham was staying with us."
Alton laughed a little. "Now what am I to answer to that? Miss
Deringham was very good to me."
The lady fancied that his merriment was a trifle forced. "You will
just sit down, and eat your dinner like a sensible man," she said.
"You are a Canadian and not expected to say nice things like those
others from the old country. They don't always do it very well, and,
though Jack is fond of them, they make me tired now and then."
Alton took his place beside her, and speedily found himself at home.
Save for the naval officer and two English financiers the men present
had a stake in the future of that country, and as usual neither they
nor their womenkind considered it out of place to talk of their
affairs. They were also men of mark, though several of them who now
held large issues in very capable hands had commenced life as wielders
of the axe. Most of them had heard of Alton of the Somasco
Consolidated, and those who had not listened with attention when he
spoke, for it was evident that they and the rancher had the same cause
at heart. Alice Deringham noticed this, and, though he was not
conscious of it, little Alton did that night escaped her attention.
She saw that while he rarely asserted himself, these men, whom she knew
were regarded with respect as leaders of great industries, accepted him
as an equal when they had heard him speak, but that caused her less
surprise than the fashion in which he adapted himself to his
surroundings. She had already discovered that he was a man with
abilities and ambitions, but she had only seen him amidst the grim
simplicity of the Somasco ranch, and now there was no trifling lapse or
momentary embarrassments to show that he found the changed conditions
incongruous. His dress was also different, but he wore his city
garments as though he had worn nothing else, and there was, she
fancied, an indefinite stamp of something which almost amounted to
distinction upon him that set him apart from the rest. Even Seaforth
wondered a little at his comrade, but both he and Alice Deringham
overlooked the fact that Alton had not spent his whole life at Somasco
ranch.
He, on his part, as the girl was quite aware, glanced often at her.
She did not, however, meet his gaze, for once Alton was on the way to
recovery, she had left the ranch somewhat hastily, and there had been
as yet no defining of the relations between them, while neither she nor
her father were cognizant of the actual cause of his wound. In the
meanwhile she made the most of Thorne, and by degrees Alton lost his
grip of the conversation. He had never seen Alice Deringham attired as
she was then, and, for his hostess had made the bravest display
possible, the profusion of flowers, glass, and glittering silver which
it seemed appropriate that she should be placed amidst, in a curious
fashion troubled the man. This, he knew, was a part of the environment
she had been used to, and he sighed as he thought of the sordid
simplicity at Somasco. There was also Commander Thorne beside her, and
the naval officer was one upon whom the stamp of birth and polish was
very visible. This man, he surmised, would understand the thoughts and
fancies which were incomprehensible to him, and was acquainted with all
the petty trifles which are of vast importance to a woman in the
aggregate.
Alton's heart grew heavy as he watched them, noticing the passing smile
of comprehension that came so easily and expressed so much, and heard
through the hum of voices the soft English accentuation which by
contrast with his own speech seemed musical. He knew his value in the
busy world, but he also knew his failings, and the knowledge was bitter
to him then. There were so many little things he did not know, and he
saw himself, as he thought the girl must see him--uncouth, which it was
impossible for him to be, crude of thought, over-vehement or taciturn
in speech, a barbarian. The misgivings had troubled him before, but
they were very forceful now, and at last he was glad when Mrs. Forel
smiled at him.
"You have been watching Miss Deringham, and neglecting me," she said.
For a moment Alton looked almost confused, and the lady laughed as she
continued. "Very pretty and stylish, isn't she? Now we have pretty
girls right here in Vancouver, but I fancy they can still give us
points in one respect in the old country. You think that is foolish of
me? Well, I wouldn't worry to tell me so; I think Commander Thorne
could do it more neatly."
"He is apparently too busy," said Alton. "Still, I fancy if you asked
him he would support me."
Mrs. Forel smiled mischievously, "Well, though one could scarcely blame
you, jealousy wouldn't do you any good. Those two were great friends
in the old country."
"That," said Alton, "is a little indefinite."
"Of course, but I don't know anything more," said his companion.
"Lieutenant Atkinson, who knew them both, told me. Thorne wasn't rich,
you see, but he comes of good people, and not long ago somebody left
him all their money. Quite romantic, isn't it? Still, don't you think
Miss Deringham would be thrown away upon anybody less than a baronet."
Alton did not answer, but his face grew somewhat grim as once more he
glanced across at Thorne. This, he thought, was a good man, and he had
all that Alton felt himself so horribly deficient in. In the meanwhile
Mrs. Forel was looking at Seaforth, who was talking to the wife of an
English financier.
"I like your partner, and he is from the old country, too," she said.
"Of course you know what he was over there?"
It was put artlessly, but Alton's eyes twinkled. "I'm afraid I don't,
though I've no doubt Charley would have told me if I'd asked him," he
said. "He is a tolerably useful man in this country, anyway, and that
kind of contented me."
The lady shook her head at him reproachfully. "And I thought you were
slow in the bush," said she. "Still, Thorne will know."
Alton fancied his hostess intended to be kind to him, but he was glad
when the dinner was over and he gravitated with the other men towards
Forel's smoking-room. There, as it happened, the talk turned upon
shooting and fishing, and when one or two of the guests had narrated
their adventures in the ranges, one who was bent and grizzled told in
turn several grim stories of the early days when the treasure-seekers
went up into the snows of Caribou. There was a brief silence when he
had finished, until one of the Englishmen said:
"I presume things of that kind seldom happen now?"
"I don't know," said Seaforth, who spoke in the Western idiom. "We
have still a few of the good old-fashioned villains right here in this
country, and that reminds me of a thing which happened to a man I know.
He was a quiet man, and quite harmless so long as nobody worried him,
but generally held on with a tight grip to his own, and he once got his
hands into something another man wanted. That was how the fuss began."
There was a little pause, during which Alton glanced bewilderedly at
his comrade, and Deringham glanced round as he poured himself out a
whisky and seltzer.
"It's not an uncommon beginning," said Forel. "What was the end?"
"There isn't any," said Seaforth, "but I can tell you the middle. One
day the quiet man, who was living by himself way up in the bush, went
out hunting, and as he had eaten very little for a week he was
tolerably hungry. Well, when he had been out all day be got a deer,
and was packing it home at night when he struck a belt of thick timber.
The man was played out from want of food, the deer was heavy, but he
dragged himself along thinking of his supper, until something twinkled
beneath a fir. He jumped when he saw it, but he wasn't quick enough,
and went down with a bullet in him. His rifle fell away from him where
he couldn't get it without the other man seeing him, and he was
bleeding fast, but still sensible enough to know that nobody would
start out on a contract of that kind without his magazine full. It was
a tolerably tight place for him--the man was worn out, and almost
famishing, and he lay there in the snow, getting fainter every minute,
with one leg no use to him."
Seaforth looked round as though to see what impression he had made, and
though all the faces were turned towards him it was one among them his
eyes rested on. Deringham was leaning forward in his chair with
fingers closed more tightly about the glass he held than there seemed
any necessity for. His eyes were slightly dilated, and Seaforth
fancied he read in them a growing horror.
"He crawled away into the bush?" said somebody.
"No, sir," said Seaforth, "he just wriggled into the undergrowth and
waited for the other man."
"Waited for him?" said Forel.
"Yes," said Seaforth. "That is what he did, and when the other man
came along peering into the bushes, just reached out and grabbed him by
the leg. Then they both rolled over, and I think that must have been a
tolerably grim struggle. There they were, alone, far up in the bush,
and probably not a living soul within forty miles of them."
Seaforth stopped again and reached out for his glass, while he noticed
that Deringham emptied his at a gulp and refilled it with fingers that
seemed to shake a trifle.
"And your friend got away?" said somebody.
"No, sir," said Seaforth. "It was the other man. The one I knew had
his hand on the other's throat and his knife feeling for a soft place
when his adversary broke away from him. He did it just a moment too
soon, for while he was getting out through the bush the other one
dropped his knife and rolled over in the snow. He lay there a day or
two until somebody found him."
Seaforth rose and moved towards the cigar-box on the table. "And
that's all," he said.
"Dramatic, but it's a little incomplete, isn't it?" said the Englishman.
Seaforth smiled somewhat dryly, and once more glanced casually towards
Deringham. "It may be finished by and by, and I fancy the wind-up will
be more dramatic still," he said. "You see the man who would wait for
his enemy with only a knife in his hand while his life drained away
from him, is scarcely likely to forget an injury."
There was silence for several moments which was broken by a rattle, and
a stream of whisky and seltzer dripped from the table.
"Hallo!" said Forel. "Has anything upset you, Deringham?"
Deringham stood up with a little harsh laugh, dabbing It the breast of
his shirt with his handkerchief.
"I think the question should apply to my glass, but the room is a
trifle hot, and my heart has been troubling me lately," he said.
Forel flung one of the windows open. "I fancy my wife is waiting for
us, gentlemen, and I will be with you in a few minutes," he said.
Alton and Seaforth were almost the last to file out of the
smoking-room, and when they reached the corridor the former turned upon
his comrade with a glint in his half-closed eyes.
"You show a curious taste for a man raised as you have been in the old
country," he said. "Now what in the name of thunder made you tell that
story?"
Seaforth smiled somewhat inanely. "I don't know; I just felt I had to.
All of us are subject to little weaknesses occasionally."
Alton stopped and looked at him steadily. "Then there will be trouble
if you give way to them again. And you put in a good deal more than I
ever told anybody. Now you haven't brains enough to figure out all
that."
Seaforth laughed good-humouredly. "It is possibly fortunate that Tom
has," he said.
"Tom--be condemned," said Alton viciously, and Seaforth, seeing that he
was about to revert to the previous question, apparently answered a
summons from his host and slipped back into the smoking-room.
Alton waited a moment, and then moved somewhat stiffly towards a low
stairway which led to a broad landing that was draped and furnished as
an annex to an upper room. One or two of the company were seated
there, and he hoped they would not notice him, for while he could walk
tolerably well upon the level a stairway presented a difficulty. He
had all his life been a vigorous man, and because of it was painfully
sensitive about his affliction. Just then Mrs. Forel came out upon the
landing, and when the girl she spoke to turned. Alton saw that Alice
Deringham was looking down on him. For a moment there was a brightness
in his eyes, but it faded suddenly, and while his knee bent under him
he set his lips as with pain. Then he stumbled, and clung to the
balustrade. For a moment he dare not look up, and when he did so there
was a flush on his forehead which slowly died away as he saw the face
of the girl.
She had also laid her hand as if for support upon the balustrade, for
it was unfortunate she had not been told that one effect of Alton's
injury would be permanent. At the commencement of their friendship she
had been painfully aware of what she considered his shortcomings, but
these had gradually become less evident, and something in the man's
forceful personality had carried her away. Possibly, though she may
not have realized it, his splendid animal vigour had its part in
this--and now dismay and a great pity struggled within her. It was
especially unfortunate that when Alton looked up the consternation had
risen uppermost, for the man's perceptions were not of the clearest
then, and he saw nothing of the compassion, but only the shrinking in
her eyes.
His face grew a trifle grey as he straightened himself with a visible
effort and limped forward, for he was one who could make a quick
decision, while to complete his bitterness Thorne came up behind him
and slipped an arm beneath his shoulder.
"You seem a little shaky, I'll help you up," he said. "An axe-cut?
The effect will probably soon wear off."
Alton understood that Thorne was talking to cover any embarrassment he
may have felt, but was not especially grateful just then. "No," he
said; "a rifle-shot."
He fancied that Thorne was a trifle astonished, and remembered
Seaforth's story, but they had gained the head of the stairway now, and
he looked at Alice Deringham as he added, "And the effect will not wear
off."
Thorne passed through with the others into the lighted room, and Alton
stood silent before the girl. She was a trifle pale, and though the
pity for him was there, it is possible that she had understood him, and
she was very proud. Thus the silence that was perilous lasted too
long, and her voice was a trifle strained in place of gentle as she
said, "I am so sorry."
Alton, who dared not look at her, now bent his head. "You are very
kind--still, it can't be helped," he said. "I think Mrs. Forel is
coming back for you. Somebody is going to sing."
Their hostess approached the doorway, and Alice Deringham found words
fail her as she watched the man, though she knew that the silence was
horribly eloquent. It was Alton who broke it.
"You had better go in. I"--and he smiled bitterly--"will wait until
the music commences and they cannot notice me."
The girl could stay no longer, though at last words which would have
made a difference to both of them rose to her lips, but Alton waited
until he could slip into the room unnoticed, and heard very little of
the music. During it Mrs. Forel managed to secure a few words with
Thorne.
"You seem to have made friends with rancher Alton," she said.
Thorne smiled a little. "Yes," he said. "Of course I know little
about him, but I think that is a man one could trust."
The lady nodded, for he had given her an opportunity. "You know more
about his partner?"
Thorne's manner appeared to change a trifle, which Mrs. Forel of course
noticed. "Yes," he said.
The lady thoughtfully smoothed out a fold of her dress. "Well," she
said with Western frankness, "I want to know a little about him, too."
Thorne smiled as he saw there was no evading the issue. "So I surmised
from what your husband asked me. Seaforth was considered a young man
of promise when I knew him in England, and his family is unexceptional.
His father, however, lost a good deal of money, which presumably
accounts for Charley having turned Canadian rancher."
Mrs. Forel turned so that she could see her companion. "That is not
what I mean, and I think I had better talk quite straight to you. Now
I like Mr. Seaforth and Mr. Alton, too, and as Jack is mixed up in some
business of theirs and they are going to stay down in Vancouver we
shall probably see a good deal of them. Jack, however, is sometimes a
little hasty in making friends, and I want to know the other reason
that brought Mr. Seaforth out from the old country."
"You fancy there is one?" Thorne said quietly.
"Yes. Lieutenant Atkinson made a little blunder one night when he
spoke of him."
"Atkinson never had very much sense," Thorne said dryly. "I, however,
fancied a man took his standing among you according to what he did in
this country."
"Yes," said Mrs. Forel. "The trouble is that the man who has crossed
the line once may do so again. Well, you see who these people are, and
if he meets them here it means that I vouch for him."
Thorne sighed. "If Atkinson has blundered, I am afraid that I must
speak. Now I don't think you need be afraid of Seaforth crossing that
line again. He was not worse than foolish and somebody victimized him,
but he has had his punishment and borne it very well--while if you knew
the whole story you would scarcely blame him."
"And that is all you can tell me?"
"Yes," said Thorne, very quietly. "Still, I can add that if Charley
ever comes back to the old country I--and my mother and sisters--would
be glad to welcome him."
"That I think should be sufficient," said Mrs. Forel, who was
acquainted with Commander Thorne's status in the old country.
It was a little later when Alton glanced towards Thorne, who was
talking to Alice Deringham. "I could get on with that man," he said.
"You knew him, Charley?"
"Oh, yes," said Seaforth with a curious expression. "He is a very good
fellow, and has distinguished himself several times. Somebody left him
a good deal of money lately."
Alton seemed to sigh. "Well," he said slowly, "he is to be envied.
They wouldn't have much use for him in your navy if he was a cripple."
The party was breaking up before Alton had speech with Alice Deringham
again, and as it happened the girl had just left Commander Thorne.
Alton spoke with an effort as one going through a task. "I never
thanked you yet for what you did for me," he said.
The girl smiled, though her pulses were throbbing painfully. "It was
very little."
"No," said Alton gravely. "I think I should not have been here now if
you had not taken care of me, and I'm very grateful. Still"--and he
glanced down with a wry smile at his knee, which was bent a trifle--"it
was unfortunate you and the doctor did not get me earlier. There are
disadvantages in being--all one's life--a cripple."
As fate would have it they were interrupted before Miss Deringham could
answer, and Alton limped down the stairway very grim in face, while
Thorne appeared sympathetic when he overtook him. "That wound of yours
is troubling you?" he said.
"Yes," said Alton dryly; "I'm afraid it will. Now I was a trifle
confused when you helped me. Did I tell you how I got it?"
Thorne remembering Seaforth's story answered indifferently, "I
concluded it was an axe-cut."
He passed on, but Alton had quick perceptions, and made a little
gesture of contentment. "He is almost good enough, anyway," he said
wearily.
When all the guests had gone Deringham came upon his daughter alone.
"I noticed Mr. Alton was not effusive," he said.
"No," said the girl languidly, though there was a curious expression in
her eyes. "I do not remember that he told much beyond the fact that he
would be a cripple--all his life. He mentioned it twice."